Lifetimes To Come // Loki Laufeyson

I’m FERALL THIS IS SO GOOD

knuckle velvet

synopsis. he walks you home, then lets himself in.

pairing. logan howlett x f!reader. tags. [18+] dubious consent, vaginal penetration, female receiving oral sex, spitting. honey don't feed it, it'll come back type beat.

Some deep part of Canada, where everything was white. Snowstorms that swarmed through the sky, and the only warmth you could find came from the bottom of a bottle.

The wood floor of the sticky bar you worked in was soaked from frost covered boots – haphazardly scraped across the welcome mat, owners preoccupied with getting their first drink than keeping the place tidy.

You existed there, behind the bar that patrons lent against, like a metal cage with leering onlookers. They paid in drinks, but you took the money home as tips, your warmth stoked in a fireplace.

How you’d ended up there in that forgotten part of the world, you didn’t know.

Perhaps you’d followed a narrow path, one strung out with thorns and rubbish, but the money was okay.

When it got slow, and there wasn’t much else to do, your boss let you read a bit, too, while you sipped on your endless supply of Coca-Cola.

At the end of your shift, your teeth were fuzzy from all the sugar. 

An easy existence, but some nights, the patrons got too friendly.

They were fresh off their trucks, looking for some place warm to bury for the night, but you weren’t offering.

So, you’d peer at them, watch them make a fool of themselves as they spewed putrid words in your general direction – alcohol and lack of sleep causing the floor to sway from beneath their feet.

It was always the new boys who would try it.

Risk it all for a chance between your thighs, unaware of the hound sitting at the end of the bar, nursing a whiskey and a vendetta.

The first time he fought for you, the air had changed. Gone cloudy with the chance of a brawl – that sixth sense that all bartenders have switching on.

“Lady said no, ain’t she?” he bellowed from across the bar.

The voice thick with smoke and alcohol, you recognised him as the guy who’d been drinking whiskey all night, but he was as sober as a nun. No stumble to his step, or slur to his cadence, either.

He was built like an oak tree. You noticed when you served him. Slid him his drink and gazed at the sheer bulk of him. At the weathered, handsome age to his face, to the spray of grey in his brown hair.

His thick arms were snugly buried under a button up shirt, and you didn’t see, but rather imagined, the way his muscular legs were stuffed into jeans, and the way his size 12’s rested against the hardwood.

His eyes though, were hiding something. Milky brown concealing his curiosity – easily done with the hard panes of his face.

You imagined letting him take you home, and you thought about being friendly, before a whisper in the back of your cranium told you to back off.

Perhaps safer.

You didn’t know where this man had come from, let alone where he’d been. So, you continued to serve him drinks, and tried to ignore the quiet hum of his presence, until the hum turned to a crash.

The patron was scorned. He paused, and turned to the end of the bar, where the brown eyed stranger was waiting. “What’s it to you?” he slurred.

But the man with the whiskey wasn’t looking to him. He sipped his drink, and said, “she said no. You don’t remember your manners?”

The bar adorned an eerie quiet. Nerves sat low in your belly, heart picking up speed.   “This guy serious?” he asked you.

You went to say something, but he was already throwing words at the stranger.

“She yours or something?” “It matter?” “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” The stranger scoffed, and brought his drink to his lips, “whatever bub.”

“We got a problem?” the man uttered, stalking towards him, but his friend took him by the arm and whispered something in his ear, forcing him to deflate.

You wondered what he’d uttered. Whether there were rumours about the guy – a reputation you didn’t know about.

Brown eyes didn’t bat an eye when the man and his buddy slid out the door, cold filling the room before the door slammed shut.

The bar exhaled.

People went back to their business, and you thought about it, you really did. Thought about leaving him alone. Going back to your measly existence. Your home – the pit for all of your things.

But it didn’t win over in the end.

You topped up his drink. He took it, and glanced at you, brown eyes ringed with mystery.

“That happen often?” he uttered, voice a gruff grunt.

You put the bottle down, and looked away, thinking back to last week when you nearly fought a guy for staring for too long. You glanced back to him. “Sometimes.” “Your boss is an asshole for letting you work here alone.” “That so?” you laughed, shocked at his candour. He nodded and downed his drink, eyeing you from over the rim.

Finished, he put the glass down on the bar, and shrugged his jacket on. He got up to leave, and you felt a chasm begin to open up in your chest.

You went to say something. Anything, to make him stay. But he paused and looked over his shoulder.

His jaw was clenched when he tentatively offered, “be safe.”

When you locked up, he was waiting for you. 

It didn’t scare you. Really, it should, but when you left the bar and saw him standing there, toking on a cigar in the cold, all it did was make you pause. He stood there, gazing at you, eyes clouded by smoke. 

“You waiting for me?” you uttered, making it real, even if the light drift of snow was giving the world a dream like quality. 

He shrugged. “Just waiting.” 

You nodded, and put the bar keys in your bag, ignoring the chasm get wider. If he was going to rob the place, he’d have to get through layers of receipts and tissues to get in. But you knew the bar wasn’t what he was after. Something about his posture, the luring look in his brown eyes — curious, like he was trying to figure something out. 

You began to walk past him, but when he didn’t follow, you paused. You peered over your shoulder, and he was still looking at you. 

Taking you in. “Well,” you started, hitching your bag up your arm, “you gonna walk me home, or what?” 

He followed you in comfortable silence.

Just you, the night, and the crunch of dirt under his boots. His cigar smoke drifted by, and it wafted through your subconscious, followed by pine, and crisp scent of the snow.

He sounded like the noise of the woods — ever present in these parts. A comfort, if one had adapted to its unpredictability. When you got to your familiar walkway, you opened the gate, but he didn’t follow you through.

Instead, he stood by the entrance, watching you unlock your door like he’d just dropped you off from a date. it was when you were halfway through that he spoke up. “You work every night?”

“Yeah,” you started quickly, looking to him. “Apart from Wednesday and Sunday.” He considered you, then gave you a sharp nod, and turned to leave.

That’s how you ended up with a wolf at your door.

Every night, he was the last one left, then he silently walked you home.

Some nights, you’d find him leaning against the entrance, and he’d quietly peel away from the door and follow you. At first, he simply walked closely behind, a looming shadow, until he began walking beside you.

Then one night, you let him in.

Made him a cup of coffee to fight off all the liquor he consumed, and he sat at your kitchen table, and drank every drop.

Watched you in the low, fluorescent lighting, and you did the same. Curiously studied him. He looked different in your home. In your kitchen. Looked a little softer around the edges, even if he couldn’t relax completely.

It went like that for a while. It was on one of these nights that he gave you his name, followed by a shitty cup of coffee. Sometimes two. Maybe a biscuit, or a piece of cake. Leftovers turned into home cooked meals. Sat at the kitchen table and watched him eat. Roast beef. Mashed potatoes. Lasagna. Sipped at your cup of tea as he slopped up his pasta, using the back of his hand to wipe the sauce off his mouth.

You left him finishing off his plate to get ready for bed, and it was when you were sorting your hair out, that he came into your bedroom and began taking his boots off.

You stood at your mirror and watched him place them near your door.

Then he reached up and began unbuttoning his shirt.

One by one, you watched his thick fingers reach the bottom. He took it off, revealing a white tank off and broad chest, and hung the shirt up on your door frame.

Jeans next.

Popped the button and shucked them to his feet -- threw them with his boots and dragged himself towards your bed.  

You went to say something. Anything.

But he looked so exhausted as he crashed onto your frilly bed, that all you could manage was, “You lock the door?”

Logan nodded. His eyes were already closed, and he was hugging the pillow when he uttered, “you coming to bed, or what?”

You let him stay the night.

Maybe it was raining, maybe he was too tired – it didn’t matter. All that mattered, was that he was warm, and sometimes, when you woke and felt the terrifying ache of being alive, he’d be there to quiet the pain.

Hush you with the soft swell of his lips and wandering hands.

You’d come with a hushed whisper, hot and sticky over his calloused fingers -- drowsy from how high he took you. Then he’d kiss you, fix your clothes, and go back to sleep.

Always the middle of the night. When it was dark and quiet out, and it felt as if you were the last people alive.

His skilled hands bringing you to the brink, a soft kiss, then back to bed.

You would wait for it. Watch him nurse his whiskey at the end of the bar, the night dragging with every drink you poured. Then, he watched you lock up.

Waited at the door for you, so you could walk home together, wordlessly taking the familiar trail.

He’d eat, you’d watch, then leave for your room.

Once, you woke to his head between your thighs. The night was quiet, room dark – slither of moonlight from your window cutting a line through your bodies.

You were slick with sweat, and as you flexed your taunt muscles, they fizzled and singed. Hot heat pushed low in your belly, rooted between your thighs.

Logan hummed, and you reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, whimpering his name to grab his attention.

He had palm fulls of you. Fists of your thighs, soft of your belly, leaving marks with his desire – desperation. The first thing he did was apologise. Muttered a hoarse, m’sorry, into your soaking cunt, but continued tasting you.

You used his hair as leverage, and hitched your hips up an inch, causing his nose to bump into your sensitive clit, and you hissed, as if in pain, but the sound trailed off into something similar to his name, and Logan grunted, moving your hips further up so he could twist a thick finger inside.

You took all he gave.

Moaned into the pillow beside you as you rocked your hips against his face, soaking his nose and mouth. Said shit you didn’t mean, but meant all the same, and Logan got off on it.

This mysterious man who had taken over your life, grunted your name like it belonged to him. Made you come on his thick beard and puffy lips, then made you taste yourself as he kissed you.

You hugged his sweat slick frame to you, fingers scratching his scalp, mindlessly grinding against his clothed cock. You were content to just kiss him, until he dragged his fingers between your thighs again.

You startled, gasping into his hot mouth, but Logan hummed, near smiling against your lips.

“’think there’s another in there for me,” he drawled.

When he fucked you, there was so much of him that you went blind with it. Eyes half lidded, delirious as he pushed inside, making himself fit. Stuffing you full, then pulling out, just to feel it all over again.

Again and again. You moaned his name into his soaked, scarred chest. Felt yourself leave your body, so hot, so wet, that it was all sensation. Just the slap of his hips against yours, the feel of his hands on your tits, in your mouth, telling you to open wide.

He spat, and when he missed, he smeared the mess off of your chin and rubbed it into your cunt.

Made you come, then filled you with his own. Leant back, and watched it drip out of you. You were so consumed by him, that you didn’t have enough energy to feel self-conscious.

No, when he had his wild eyes on you, you reached between your thighs and stuffed it back inside.

The next evening, and he was back at the bar, waiting for you to bring him his whiskey. When you placed it in front of him, those wild eyes were on you again.

Waiting. Always waiting.

Waiting to play out your usual routine.

masterlist | ask | reblogs appreciated endlessly

Doc Ock when he saw Tom Holland’s Spider-Man instead of Tobey

PLEAASSEE WRITE FOR LOGAN MORE U AINT EVER MISS 🗣️🗣️🗣️

𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐱

⬩ pairing(s) logan "wolverine" howlett x mutant!female!reader

⬩ warning(s) language, sparring/fighting, a little bit of plot, a super teeny tiny bit of angst, smut, dirty talking, masturbation (mentioned), competency!kink (aka logan liking someone that can beat him in a fight), penetrative sex (p in v), bodily fluids (mentioned), rough(ish) sex, no pussy eating but logan is still a munch, no protection (wrap irl pls), yearning!logan, hold the moan vibes, female anatomy/pronouns are used. minors dni/+18!

⬩ author's note imposter syndrome set in but we're posting anyway because the love for logan is real! not sure how i did with his character but it's okay because this is fiction :) dedicating this to @joannasteez @rae-gar-targaryen @heavenbarnes @kyletogaz and anyone else who needs logan howlett as badly as i do. reader's powers are sort of explained but pretty vague so you can imagine whatever you want outside of what's mentioned in the fic. more logan coming soon and i hope you enjoy <3

⬩ word count 3.9k

Six months. Six months ago you’d started as the new counselor. Six months, and Logan can’t get you out of his head. 

Extraordinary was the word the Headmaster had used. Logan thought it was just Charles being Charles when he’d introduced you as such, though he soon finds his boss was correct. Understating, even.

The realization comes on your sixth day of employment. Ororo, Logan’s usual training partner and woman who could double as Mother Nature, was a few hours east with Jean and Scott. This left Logan to skip for the day and settle for a good run instead. Well, that was his plan until he catches you on your way to the gym.

He doesn’t mean to stare but fuck. The leggings you’re sporting could bring even the strongest mutants to tears. In his haze, the man forgets that you can spot him and probably already have as he attempts to follow you. You’re hearing is as good as his, if not better, and your super acute senses are just that–super and acute. Hell, you’re ability to feel what others have to search hard for is one of the reasons Charles hired you in the first place.

Logan knows he’s caught when you’re already laughing quietly to yourself upon his entry to the gym. The room would be empty if not for the two of you and he couldn’t feel luckier.

“Just wanted to make sure you got to where you were going.” It’s a lie and a bad one, but your ass in those pants has his head too fogged to think of anything better. “Easy to get lost in this place. Lotta rooms.”

You hum at Logan’s words, already knowing that he knows you aren’t buying it. “I appreciate that. Had a couple hours free, so I thought I’d check this place out. Gotta keep up with the rest of you guys, somehow.”

Logan’s eyebrows accidentally raise, and you tilt your head at him.

“Why the face?”

Shit. Shaking his head, Logan comes to join you where you stand on the large sparring mat in the middle of the room. Soon enough, he gives in. No point in lying if he’s already fibbed once.

“...just didn’t think a school counselor would be into that kinda thing.”

“And what makes you say that?”

Logan huffs out something similar to a laugh, as your rebuttal came quicker than he was expecting. He can see the gears in your head working and the smile threatening to break out, but it can’t be for what he’s thinking, right?

“I just–”

Only the two words slip from his lips before you charge in his direction. He catches on fast enough to counter the leg you try and slip around his, but can’t catch himself when you shove him into the mat from behind.

Logan crashes to his hands and knees, stunned. He whips his head to you from his place on the ground, face reading what the fuck? The way you stand over him with a pleased look doesn’t give him a chance to be angry, however. In a matter of a few short seconds, the man’s shaking with an unexpected round of laughter. 

“Well, fuck,” he exhales, finally standing with an impressed grin. “That’s one way to prove a guy wrong.”

Your shrug is interrupted by a pouncing Logan, who carries out the move you tried to execute to near perfection, causing your back to hit the mat with a short thud. When you blink yourself back to reality, you’re met with him dangling over you. Not that you really got any chance, but it’s his turn to gloat.

“Gotta sweep both legs, not just swipe at one.”

You roll your eyes, taking the outstretched hand he offers to help you up. Logan sniffs at the flame that shoots through his hand.

That’s how the next hour goes. One of you attacks, the other counters. Never with any true malice behind any of your intentions, but that’s not to say either of you don’t try to knock the wind out of each other once or twice. All of it is in good fun, concluding with the both of you panting atop the mat with matching grins.

“You’re good… and fast,” Logan sighs after catching his breath. “Where’d you learn how to fight like that?”

“...where we all did; surviving in a world that doesn’t like us very much.”

When you don’t tell him any more than that, he leaves it alone. You’ll tell him one day. If you don’t, that’s fine, too. He’s the last person to push someone back into memories they’ve obviously tried to forget.

This world is shitty enough. He’s searched enough to know there’s no sense in dipping behind locked doors.

“Same time tomorrow? Assuming Charles doesn’t need someone to save the world.”

Another laugh twitches Logan’s upper body as he peeks over at you. Your skin is damp after all your skillful offense and better defense. His eyes snake down your entire frame and linger for who knows how long. Lower lip sucking into his mouth, he has to flick his gaze back toward the ceiling before his dick can harden any further.

“Sounds like a plan,” Logan replies, hoping you can’t hear the wobble in his voice. You leave him a few minutes later with an aching member he hides all the way back to his room.

This becomes the routine. Once a week, the two of you meet in the gym, spar, and he runs back to his shower to pump one out over your competence. If the count he’s been keeping is right, you’ve got a slight edge on the matches–a fact he’d be surprised with if he didn’t already know the reason behind it.

You’re impossibly enthralling, even more so when you fight, and it really starts fucking with him the better he gets to know you. Like he said before, you’re fast. It keeps him on his toes, on and off the mat. What move will you counter with next? What story do you have for him today? What panties do you wear to keep those leggings so smooth?

Months pass and it gets harder to hide. Logan waits a little longer to push you off when you end up on top of him. His hands linger a little more when he’s pinning you to the mat with a victorious smirk. He stands a little closer when listens to you speak, your voice becoming a siren’s song that invades his mind into the hours past sundown.

Tonight is all the same, and as usual, a soda in the kitchen at midnight does nothing to help his attempts to sleep.

What that man would do for a cold beer.

He sits by himself at the counter, rubbing his eyes in half annoyance, half worked up. You had sparred with the man five days ago, and he’s still stuck on the move that made him tap out. Something with your thighs wrapped around his neck and squeezing until he smacks the mat. That evening, he rushed through dinner to finish grading exams before fucking one of his pillows for half the night.

Logan’s thrusted out of his daydream at the distant sound of footsteps, recognizing them instantly. He leaves his stool with an embarrassing swiftness but is able to collect himself as he travels through the mansion. The sound of your calming pitters is followed by Logan with ease, and the man finds his prize in record time.

“So it’s not just the kids that don’t get enough rest around here.”

God, it takes everything within Logan not to smile smugly at the way you pause and spin. Finally, you’re the one caught off guard for a change. It’s nice, the way you hide your squirm with a clearing of your throat and a tiny grin. You had to have heard him coming, so why the nerves?

“Hard thing to do when the mind’s always on.” The words come with a shrug that causes the straps of your loose tank to slip off one of your shoulders. Logan swallows at the sight of the skin, sucking in a quiet breath to keep an embarrassing noise from slipping from his lips. What would you think if he’d told you he’d dream about kissing that very spot? Inhaling against and sucking on it after at whatever time of day you’ll allow in whatever room you wish.

“And the mind’s a hard thing to turn off for people like us.” Logan eases to you, even steps echoing in the otherwise empty hallway. With a tilted head and barely-hooded eyes, the man’s growing somewhat drunk just off the smell of you. The thought of a good drink is somewhere else. It’s long gone as he breathes in your scent as deep as he can before continuing. “What’s keeping you up tonight?”

Logan waits patiently while you think. The subtle tick of your eyes to the right as you rack your brain is almost as stunning as when you glance back at him before dragging your gaze down to the crotch of his jeans.

“You don’t really sleep in those, do you?”

You haven’t moved your eyes. Why haven’t you moved your eyes?

Logan huffs out of astonishment more than anything, cocking one of his hips to the side. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip before having to bite the same spot to keep his chuckle down.

“My, uh,” he grins a little. “My jeans are why you can’t sleep?

Logan swallows when you finally look back at his face. You stare something wrong into his soul, something he feels in the smallest divots of his otherworldly joints, in the very meaning of his existence. He doesn’t realize he’s drifted even closer until the heat of you raises the hairs on the back of his neck. The mutant stares at you, into you, a slight sway leaning his body to hang even closer to yours. 

“It’s… what’s under them that has me wandering the halls.”

Logan’s insides jump and twitch and flail as he processes your words. His mouth grows to feel extremely dry, and it seems impossible to say anything back. Somewhere deep down, he eventually finds it.

“Are we finally gonna do this?” Logan’s question hits out hard in the dimness of the hallway. Almost as powerful as the beats his heart pounds, a thudding ardor pulsing right alongside the blood pumping all the way down to his cock. He doesn’t hesitate in the gliding of a tender palm along your sides, hands settling to grip against your waist. He dips his fingertips, pressing into what he desperately wishes was your skin instead of the soft fabric of your shirt. “You finally gonna let me show you what I think about every time you walk into the fuckin’ room? Every time you knock me into that mat?”

There’s a vibration coming off your skin now, one that Logan feels rattle against his bones as your lips part in a slow grin. It doesn’t take more than a nod and soft yes from you to force a low growl from Logan’s throat. He almost sounds it again when you pull away to gather his hand into yours.

Logan studies you the entire journey to your room. It’s the furthest down the hall of all the instructors’ quarters, giving him ample time to dance lingering, heated looks at the way you move; it’s with such grace and attention, though the man knows you give it none. It’s just who you are, the slick moves and cunning ways that have him entranced.

The air inside your room is thick with want. A quiet clunk sounds when Logan shuts the door, his back resting against the wood in a slight lean.

“Nice place,” Logan comments quietly. It looks as put together as he thought it would. Tidy but lived in, and touches of you all over. You accept the compliment with a few strides to where Logan stands, and he welcomes the arms you snake around his neck with an embrace of his own.

“Can I kiss you?”

His badly stoked yearning makes the seconds it takes for you to bob your head seem like an eternity. The time it takes to kiss you, however, is second to none. Your faces sink together, tongues too impatient to wait before they meld together in a deep kiss. A moan slips from you, Logan drinking it with a groan of his own.

Logan drags his lips from yours, allowing you to breathe but only for a moment as he trails kisses down your jawline. His world glows golden when he finally makes it to your shoulder. The spot he’s wanted to feel against his lips oh so badly. He nips at and moans lowly against it, raising a round of goosebumps he can feel erupt across you. He’s doing that. He’s the one causing you to shiver like this, and it’s going to drive him crazy.

Logan snogs you the entire way to your bed, pushing you onto the mattress with a gentle flop.

“Off,” he commands, ripping off his tank in the blink of an eye before rushing to unbuckle his belt. “All of it.”

The two of you move quickly, ripping off shirts and slipping off bottoms in a single move. Your desperation forbids any kind of teasing, the two of you completely naked when Logan clambers on top of you. His cock noticeably twitches when it brushes against the skin of your stomach, but Logan’s too busy being slack-jawed as he stares down at you.

He could sob at your tits, and his hand has to tweak one of your nipples on its way down to your soaking lips. Right now, Logan doesn’t focus on taking his time, and you don’t let him. The man dives right in, incapable of waiting when such a ravishing meal like this is laid out like this before him.

A finger glides up your slit and just outside your entrance, collecting your already gathering wetness. 

“This all for me?” A gasp spills from you, right into Logan’s mouth. He breathes it down without hesitation, pressing his lips into yours as he slides the drenched pads of his fingers up and down your puffing clit. Your legs try to clench together as the sudden spark that zaps through you, but Logan easily parts them with a single swipe of his knee, keeping you pressed open for him with a little tsk.

All you can do is squeak out a small ahs, a pair of thick fingers rubbing you roughly, while Logan relishes the way your head throws back, mouth parting. Your hand finds its way to his chest, where you clutch his forearm, and squirm underneath him. Another smirk darkens Logan’s face when your writhes forge into determined grinds against his working digits, and he makes sure to burn the image of this into his very core.

“That’s it,” he breathes out. “Use me, baby. Don’t fuckin’ stop ‘til your pussy creams all over my hand.”

Logan could burst at how you do exactly what he said to; you use the fuck out of the hand he has clamped against you, whining and jerking, pussy leaking a devastating amount of your juices out to coat his fingers. He talks you through when your first orgasm ricochets through your body, jolting your limbs and wrenching ill-restrained wails from your lips. Instead of stopping, he hurries to kiss you when you release a particularly loud sound at the overwhelming sensation. Telling you how good you’re being for him. Coming for him so well. You cling to him your entire way down, kissing at his lips and chin lazily as he holds you.

He waits until you return with a heavy breath before removing his hand. You tense at the removal, your shivers quickly decaying when he returns the warmth in the form of his member nudging back against your slit. 

The head of his cock presses into you at an infuriating speed, but Logan can’t go any faster. Your center is a mess of wet and clings around Logan with a tautness that makes him pause halfway inside of you. He needs a second, or he’ll cum. Flood you before he gets a chance to feel you come around him first.

A lengthy oh draws from Logan, ending with a punched-out fuck only when his entire cock is entirely submerged inside your hole. He gives you both a moment to adjust, twining an arm under you to press a hand to your back while the other palms itself on your cheek. He clutches you close, testing a few deep strokes that he finds are the right move when you choke out a perfect whine.

Logan’s pace grows gradually, always angling his hips according to whatever makes you clench around him the most. You’re lucky your bed is bolted to the floor when Logan starts bucking with a new snap to his hips, a slick layer of cream appearing and glazing the cock that slips in and out of you.

“Fuckin’ take me,” he heaves above you, just over the slaps of his sopping thrusts. Every grind buries himself deep into your heat, Logan losing himself in the feeling. At this moment, it’s all he’s ever wanted–to rail you until neither of you can’t think straight. Logan’s already there, unable to form a single coherent thought that doesn’t revolve around you. He fucks you well, ignoring the way the muscles in his ass burn nicely every time he plunges himself into you.

Logan can see you staring back up at him, and he’s sure he looks something pitiful. He can feel his eyes trying not to roll back in his head when your body bounces back upwards to meet his thrust. The hair that usually sits perfectly on his forehead sticks to his skin now, and he’s sure that his face is stuck in an expression of pure, fucked out rapture.

“God, you’ve got a pussy on you, dont’cha? Fucking incredible,” Logan murmurs, the fat head of his dribbling cock spearing you open.

A little grin teases at your lips, taking just enough time to catch Logan off guard for you to use your legs to keep him from moving after his next sink inside of you.

“Oh, fuck,” the man shudders, eyes fluttering shut when you kiss him again. His world spins at your rolling over, head hitting the sheets at the way you stuff yourself full of him. Forcing his eyes open, Logan nearly closes them again. The sight and rush of you starting a leisurely rock is enough to inch him closer than he’s ready for.

“Shit, wait.” Even with the hand he squeezes strongly on the cheek of your ass, you keep steady in your grind. “Fucking wait.”

A low, forcing growl thunders through his voice, and he whips forward into a sitting position at a speed that has you seizing to grab at his shoulder. His grip finds the back of your neck, interrupting your gasp to yank your face just inches apart from his.

Your noses brush, eyes studying each other in a thick silence. Unable to help himself, Logan drags you into a long kiss. It steals whatever air is left in your legs, and doesn’t stop when he rolls his cock into you with a bite to your lip. It’s when you match his movements that the hand on your neck moves to the small of your back, helping you along.

“Attagirl. That’s better,” Logan praises between kisses, your hand sneaking under his arms to hook your grasp onto his wide shoulders. Your mouth slicks and pecks against Logan’s, waist easing into an intoxicating whine up and down his cock. “Fuck me, that’s it.”

Logan follows the words with a more forceful knocking of his cock into you, and he’s starting to lose it again. Before you know it, he’s flipped you onto your back once more, and your head almost hangs off the bed with the angle he’s contorted you both into.

Your bodies jerk and hump together with a new vigor. Logan can feel himself dwindling into nothing but a puddle of pitiful moans, eventually having to bury his mouth into the neck to muffle his strangled sobs. They rip from him anyway, vibrating with each flick of his hips.

All you can do is wrap your legs and take it, hanging on the man who’s got you seeing literal fucking stars.

“Fucking cream my cock, bub.”

You don’t have to tell Logan when you’re close. The harsh pulsing of your pussy around his dick alerts him well enough to rail you deeper. Pulling from your neck, Logan rises to watch as you look up at him, a mixture of lust and a hint of panic in your gaze.

“C-cover my mouth, cover my mouth,” you rush out, Logan barely sealing his hand over your lips before you’re falling apart around him. He fucks into you deep as you start to come, palm doing the bare minimum of dampening the long, loud moan that shreds your throat raw. Your hands don’t know what to do with themselves, clenching Logan then the sheets then Logan again while your body sputters under his with rough shakes.

“Such a good fucking girl,” Logan punctuates with matching thrusts, unable to stop his own wave from catching up with him. The first rope of cum spurts inside you when he bottoms out, the last of your peak squeezing him to a stomach-burning clench of his abs as he comes for you. The only thing that leaves his mouth are a slew of curses, all of them groaned with tightly shut eyes and a damp forehead pressing onto yours. 

Logan pumps and pumps, removing his hand from your face to keep him from falling as you milk him into nothing but tiny whimpers and flinching aftershocks. 

A hard, warm weight begins to sink against you, Logan’s breathing still shaky when you wrap an arm around his back. His cock remains inside you, twitching every now and again, some of his load seeping out of your still-stuffed center.

He doesn’t say anything for a while. He can’t say anything for a while, body feeling as if he’s floating. He can’t remember feeling this loose and free and adoring. He wants to sleep here. Can he sleep here?

“Can I sleep here?” Logan questions, voice hoarse with exhaustion. He smiles lazily at your answer.

“Only if you kiss me again.”

With the little energy he has left, Logan pulls his face to yours. He opts for your jaw first, kissing his way to your chin before planting a final kiss on your lips. This one is different, more careful than the rest. His eyes barely stay open when he retreats, pleased with the picture of your blissed-out expression.

Logan watches you attentively when he finally decides to pull out, his thumb reaching up to stoke at your cheek.

“Shh, shh,” he coos at your light gasp. “I know.”

“Still so big,” you groan quietly, and he shushes you with a peck to your head this time.

“I know, pretty, I know.”

He huffs when his cock falls all the way out, easing to lay next to you. His chest shines, damp, one of his arms folding behind his head while the other maneuvers you into his side. You give in to sleep fast, a cheek pressed into his built peck, and mouth open with steady puffs of warm air against his skin.

Six days, and he was yours. Six months, and you’re his–something certain when he wakes in the early morning to find you already staring back at him with those charming eyes and knowing twinkle.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

NO CAUSE THIS EAAATTSS

Dreaming of You

Summary: Plagued by graphic dreams about the Munson boy, you decided to see if he can make them come true.

Word count: 10.3k

What to expect: Virgin!Eddie Munson. Smut/Lemon. (-18 kindly dni)

A/N: This was supposed to be something short, hot, and fun, but somehow turned into a therapy session. So this is for all my girlies who have suffered bad sex, been robbed of their O's, and made to feel like pleasing them was too much work. I’m very much a long fic kind of gal, so this is a bit of a different speed for me. Let me know if you enjoyed it!

Yes, that is a Selena song title.

It started with a dream where Eddie The Freak Munson made an appearance. You knew who he was. Everyone did. But you never paid him more than a glance or two until your unconscious mind conjured up a peculiar image of his face buried between your legs on top of O’Donell’s desk. At first you couldn’t quite place who it was until he withdrew from you. Even in sleep, you were lucid enough to be shocked that the freak was the one to turn your legs to jelly. He interrupted your thoughts by commanding you to roll on your belly and stick your ass in the air so he could fuck you full right in the middle of the empty math classroom.

After waking up with a sticky situation to remedy, you started to pay more attention to him. Eddie Munson was no longer a loud extra in the backdrop of your day to day life.

Now that he was on your radar, you could spot him anywhere. He towered over almost everyone. Was he always so tall? And kind of built in a scrappy sort of way? You saw him without his jacket once and had the sudden urge to just run your hands up his shirt and feel his lithe abdomen. Maybe even lightly scrape your nails down it just to see the red marks left behind.

Your ogling led to the discovery that he had really nice hands. Even if they were covered with an excessive amount of silver rings that directed the reflection of sunlight from the window into your eyes if you looked his way too long. You wondered if the cheap faux silver turned his thick fingers green, but then forgot to care once you started to wonder what else those fingers could do--if the stretch of them would feel just as good as you dreamt.

You also noticed that he stuck his tongue out a lot. It was like he knew what you dreamt about and was intentionally tormenting you. When he was antagonizing Jason in the cafeteria, you nearly fainted at the sight—tongue so long it nearly reached the bottom of his chin. It didn’t take long for you to imagine yourself sitting on his face, writhing on the wet, flat muscle and thinking about how his nose would probably bump in just the right spot. How you’d love to thread your fingers through the hair at the crown of his head and--

A curiosity soon turned into an obsession. Morning, noon, and night your thoughts were flooded with the boy in the leather jacket. You couldn’t escape him even in your dreams.

You had to have him.

Many hours of the school day were dedicated to coming up with a plan on how to get his attention, but it was more difficult than you hoped. He was always surrounded by people and looked as if he were in the middle of a tirade, which judging by his outburst in the cafeteria—he probably was. Waiting for him to be isolated wasn’t yielding any results, but the thought of going up to him when he was in a group of boys who looked less than welcoming wasn’t what you wanted either.

There was a possibility that Eddie would laugh at you. Turn you into a spectacle and belittle you for asking him out. He was loud, opinionated, boisterous, and quite abrasive if the wrong person approached him. You hoped he wouldn’t do that to you, but you didn’t know him well enough to say for sure.

But then he appeared in another dream that caused a yearning so severe that you decided to risk it all.

He was easy to find in the parking lot after school. As usual, he had some of his friends orbiting around him, though it only seemed to be a few of the younger ones that looked less intimidating than his normal posse. Taking a deep breath to gather your wits, you approached Eddie Munson.

Or at least tried to. The Super senior paid you no mind as you stood beside him. He continued to address the small ring in front of him, not noticing that they were staring at you with open mouths and wide eyes instead of listening to him.

“--You can beg all you like, Wheeler, but the answer is no. Why don’t you ask your buddy ol pal Harrington to get it--what are you all looking at?” Eddie turned to follow their gaze. His face shifted from mild annoyance to confusion as he stared at you.

Losing a bit of your nerve at the way his brown eyes bore into you, you faltered. “H-hey, Eddie.”

His brow furrowed in further uncertainty. “Hi?”

You couldn’t blame him for being uneasy at your sudden attempt at contact, having ignored him for the years you’d been in school together. But it made you second guess yourself all the same. Perhaps the Eddie in your dreams should be the one you focused on.

The thought of Dream Eddie brought on a searing heat that warned your neck and face. If there was even a chance that Eddie in the real world could have the same effect on you that Dream Eddie did, you had to go for it.

Regaining your confidence, you put on a sly smile. “Are you busy tonight?”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you and tilted his head. “Why?”

Feigning innocence, you shrugged meekly. “Why don’t you invite me over and find out.”

After a few more beats of confusion, something seemed to click in Eddie’s brain as you visibly watched his suspicion turn to understanding. He nodded and snapped his fingers before pointing it at you like a gun. “Right. Forest Hills at nine o’clock?”

All the tension you were carrying in your shoulders melted away. Smiling brightly, you agreed.

——

Nine o’clock seemed to take forever. You spent the time at home pulling out all the stops to make sure that you were ready and presentable. Using the best smelling shampoo and body wash, taking the time to contort in the tub for optimal body hair removal—no matter how much you hated shaving—teeth and tongue scraped to gleam, perfumed body lotion, the only lacy set of bra and panties you owned, and just a small amount of makeup to keep everything smooth.

It had been a while since you had sex, giving up on high school boys completely. The few experiences you had were less than satisfactory, so you decided that getting yourself off was much less of a hassle than dealing with the idiots at school.

Like many of the girls at Hawkins high, you had given your virginity to Steve Harrington. He was sweet, gentle, and took his time opening you up with his fingers before pushing in to you. It was arguably the best night of your life. An orgasm that was provided by someone other than yourself, the giggling, nose kisses, and night full of whispers made you think you were right to choose Steve for your first time. However, as soon as the sun came up, he forgot all about you and moved on to his next conquest.

Things only went downhill from there.

You could feel bile rising in your throat from remembering the way Tommy H flopped around on top of you like he was having a seizure. With all his talk about how great he was in the sack, you were severely disappointed. You couldn’t wait for it to be over with so you could go home and take care of yourself properly. Thankfully, in less than three minutes your prayer was answered.

Then there was Billy Hargrove. He knew how to use his cock, but he was a selfish lover. He didn’t take the time to make sure you were satisfied, and once he was done, that was it. You were to shut up and leave. He made you cum on occasion, but it turned into a bizarre fight because you didn’t ask his permission to do so. You weren’t desperate enough to beg for anything, and for Billy to expect you to beg him to cum when you could achieve it without him…well. Let’s just say you didn’t go back when he brought it up again.

Steve was great but used you. Tommy was terrible and had bad breath. Billy was capable of satisfying you but chose not to. You hoped Eddie would be different.

In your dreams, his attitude varied. Sometimes it was hot and rough, other times it was slow and sensual, and sometimes it was just him worshiping you with words.

As much as you wanted that to be the truth, you were afraid that Eddie in the flesh would disappoint you. Just like the others.

But you tried not to think about it. Instead, you focused on recreating the images your imagination conjured up both in sleep and waking hours. Recalling the way his lips felt on yours. The sting of your scalp when he pulled your hair. The sweet words he’d coo after he made you see stars.

The permanent ache in your belly only intensified the longer you dwelled on your past visions. Before you were even at his place your body was scorching from the inside out, cunt drenched and throbbing, and breathing erratic.

Arousal quickly faded into nervousness as you parked your car next to the familiar van, but you tried to bully it back by taking a few calming breaths before going for gold and knocking on the door.

All that could be heard from the other side was various banging and swearing before the door launched open to reveal Eddie looking quite frazzled.

He held up a few crushed beer cans in his hand and gave a weak smile. “Sorry. Was trying to clean up a bit. Maid took the week off.”

You gave him a small smile. “That’s okay. Can I come in?”

Eddie moved out of the way and bowed low at the waist. “Of course. Castle Munson is yours.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that display as you walked past him. You’d seen him bow his head to girls at school who either ignored his existence completely or scowled at him, but to be on the receiving end of his chivalry was cute.

His castle was anything but. The trailer was small, very cluttered, and was certainly the home to chain smokers as every countertop had a full ashtray on it. Still, it was oddly comforting with the soft glow of the living room lamp, the rows and rows of mugs lining the walls and the collection of baseball caps to compliment them.

You followed him into the tiny kitchen area. “Do you live here alone?” you asked curiously, taking a closer look at the Garfield mug on the counter.

“Uh--no,” Eddie answered, stuffing his hand in the full trash can to stop the pile from overflowing. “My uncle lives here too but he works overnight at the plant.”

Your heart soared at the idea of having the place to yourself for the evening. “So no one will be home tonight?”

“Nope,” he answered, turning his attention to the fridge. “Can I get you a water? Or beer? I think I have some Kool-aid in here if you want that.”

You shook your head, forgetting he couldn’t see you with his face in the depths of the fridge. Perhaps beer would be a good idea to calm your nerves a bit, but then again, you didn’t want to have horrid breath for this.

“No. I’m okay, thanks.”

“Right,” Eddie mumbled. He withdrew from the fridge and clapped his hands together. “So. What can I get you? I’m out of shrooms, but I have a couple of tabs and some weed.”

“Huh?” you questioned, staring at him with confusion.

Eddie looked equally unsure. “That’s what you’re here for, right? Weed?”

You clenched your eyes shut when you realized what he meant. He didn’t exactly pick up what you were putting down earlier.

Maybe it would be better to accept a beer and a joint. Perhaps get to know him better before pouncing on him like a lioness in heat. But the yearning in the core of your belly wasn’t willing to wait.

“Um, no,” you answered awkwardly. You let out a sharp exhale before looking at him again. “I’m here for you.”

He raised his brows. “Me?”

Was there a way to convey this without sounding like a whore? How were you supposed to tell him you wanted to fuck when clearly the thought never crossed his mind?

You supposed you could show him. You took a few steps to close the distance between you, inhaling the scent of him. True, the smell of cigarettes and weed clung to him, but so did the aroma of Old Spice, cologne, and something you could only describe as man. And boy was it intoxicating in the most alluring way to breathe in.

You placed your hands on his leather clad biceps--which were almost heaven to finally touch after weeks of staring--and stood atop the tips of your toes to whisper in his ear. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

Grabbing you by the elbows, he gently pushed you back far enough to be able to look at you.

“Hey, if you don’t have any money, it’s fine. I can just smoke you out,” he frowned. “You don’t have to do any of that.”

No wonder it took him three tries to pass senior year. The guy was really dense. What was it going to take for him to realize you were here to get your back blown out?

Huffing with mild irritation, you leaned away from him and seized the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it carelessly elsewhere.

Eddie’s brown eyes nearly bulged out of his skull as they stared at your lace covered tits. If you weren’t so turned on, you would have laughed at the way his mouth hung open--face frozen in shock. It didn’t even look like he was blinking. Or even breathing for that matter.

“I told you. I came here for you.”

Taking his stunned silence as an opportunity, you crowded his space once again and finally got to live out one of your fantasies: pushing your hands beneath his shirt and feeling the muscles of his abdomen. There were some there, but there was also a little bit of pudge too right at his navel. Lightly gliding your hands upward towards his chest, you leaned to place a small kiss on the side of his throat.

“I’ve had dreams about you,” you said in the best seductive tone you could muster, placing another kiss just a few inches higher on his neck.

His Adam's apple bobbed beneath your lips. “Hua-uhh,” Eddie stammered. “What kind of dreams?”

You smiled to yourself at the crack in his voice. “Oh, I think you know what kind.” You pressed your body flush against his, relishing in the warmth of him and internally cheering at the stiff bulge pressed against your stomach.

Eddie chuckled nervously, his voice much higher than before. “Y-yeah I think I have an idea. Wha--” he cleared his throat in an effort to return his tone to a normal octave. “What happens in them?”

You slid your hands towards his belt loops, hooking your fingers in them and steering him the short way to the couch as you answered. “Which one do you wanna know about? There’s been quite a few. I could tell you about them or—“ you gently pushed off Eddie’s leather jacket from his shoulders, letting it fall before nudging him down onto the lumpy couch. “—I could show you.”

All the air in Eddie’s lungs came out in a huff when he collapsed onto the sofa. Wide eyed he asked, “Is this—is this really happening?”

Taking your time to settle on your knees between his legs, you outlined the tattoo on his forearm, having never noticed it there before. Eddie Munson just became ten times hotter.

“Really happening,” you smirked.

Eddie was nearly panting through his wide open mouth as he watched you undo his belt, button and zipper. The quiet gasps of “h-oh shit” that escaped him only made your confidence grow.

“Cute,” you teased, snapping the elastic waistband of his navy bullfrog boxers.

He may have said something about how they were his lucky pair, but you weren’t listening. The anatomy beneath them was what you were here for, and you couldn’t wait to see it. Wasting not another second, you instructed Eddie to lift his hips and yanked the heavy black denim and boxers to his knees.

Cock slapping against his belly, sticky drops dribbled from the head. Your mouth watered at the sight of it twitching against him in anticipation. It was all you could have hoped for. Thick, long, curved just a little to the right, and with a glistening pink tip—Eddie’s cock was gorgeous.

“Good for you, Munson,” you praised mischievously. It took no time wrapping your hand around the length of him. Heavy, silky smooth, and hot, you gave into the urge and licked a pressured stripe on the underside of his shaft, tracing the protruding vein.

The strangled chortle that emitted from the back of Eddie’s throat only fueled your desire. You could feel your own arousal pooling, more than likely already seeping through the thin fabric of your underwear with how worked up you made yourself earlier. Lifting yourself higher on your knees, you licked the slick slit and relished the salty taste of him before enveloping the entirety of the head with your lips.

Maybe it was weird to be so turned on when giving a blowjob—other girls talked about it like it was a chore and you hated having to do it to Billy. But feeling Eddie’s hairy thighs tremble under your palms, seeing his chest heave as breathy whimpers escaped him, watching his mouth hang open in disbelief with his cheeks sporting a ruddy complexion was enough to make your cunt throb.

Hollowing your cheeks, you lowered your mouth as far as you could without gagging, and pulled back up again to swirl your tongue around the mushroom tip with your fist following close behind.

Eddie huffed and puffed, trying to stutter out half syllables as he writhed in your grasp. Unsure of what to do with his hands, his fingers flexed against the cushions beneath them. He struggled to keep his eyes open—dark lashes fluttering against his pink cheeks with every stroke.

God he was beautiful like this. Why you never thought of him before was a true mystery. Lips pink and plump, strong nose, and eyelashes so long you’d kill for them. Now that you’d seen him blissed out from something you were doing for him—to him—you couldn’t imagine ever going back to ignoring him.

Drunk from the power you clearly had over him and determined to make a lasting impression so this could happen again, you bobbed your head lower and lower, relishing in the smooth glide of his cock against your tongue, opening the back of your throat to accommodate him until you were close enough to bury your nose against the thick dark curls at the base of him.

But Eddie was finally able to gasp out a single word. “S-Stop!”

All the confidence drained from you when you peered at him through your lashes. Eddie panted heavily with his brown eyes wide and glossy, looking as if her were about to cry.

Pulling off of him with a wet pop, you frowned with his dick twitching against your chin. “Is it not good—?”

He quickly shook his head. “Too good. So good I’m gonna bust in two seconds if you don’t slow down,” he answered breathlessly. “Or if you keep looking at me like that. Jesus Christ.”

Your frown deepened at his words. Too busy worrying about your pleasure from devouring him, you didn’t give much thought about what he wanted from this, thinking getting blown was reward enough in itself.

Embarrassed by your selfishness, you decided to make it right.

Ignoring the popping in your knees, you lifted yourself from the carpet to straddle Eddie’s lap, taking extra care to press your clothed core right against his aching cock.

Up close like this you were able to admire his features. Trace his bottom lip with your thumb, the curve of his scratchy jaw. Memorize the pattern of light freckles dusting the bridge of his nose. You outlined that too with the pass of your fingertips, along with the ridge of his deep set Cupid’s bow.

“Sorry,” you said softly, gently swiping the curtain of black bangs to expose his pale forehead.

Eddie blinked. “Huh?”

“For being greedy,” you answered simply.

He chuckled weakly. The corner of his lip ticked in a sideways grin, allowing for a dimple to dent his cheek as you caressed it. “Promise it’s alright, Sweetheart. Just want it to last longer than ten seconds.”

You slowly rocked your hips, letting the sopping cotton of your underwear drag against the hard length pressing so deliciously against you. A sigh rushed out of his parted lips when you moved his hands from the couch cushions and slid them up your body until they rested against the curve of your lace covered breasts.

The audible gulp emitting from his throat made you giggle, but it quickly faded into silence when he kept his hands still. No kneading, squeezing, or massaging. You ceased the roll of your hips.

“You can touch me if you want,” you offered.

Eddie stared at his unmoving hands and licked his lips before his eyes flickered up to yours. “Can I kiss you?”

It was your turn to gape at him. It hadn’t occurred to you that you hadn’t even kissed him during your lust fueled frenzy. Granting permission with a wordless nod of your head, letting him initiate just as he asked.

From your observations of Eddie over the last few weeks, timid is not the word you would use to describe him. However, as his lips gently pressed against yours, that’s all you could think of.

The kiss wasn’t bad, it was just…slow. Gentle. Timid. He made no effort to deepen it--deciding that a few chicken pecks were satisfactory. Eddie also kept his hands frozen on your chest, much to your displeasure.

Trying to relay the urgency of your desire, you took over. Crashing your lips against his, you tried to set the pace. But Eddie couldn’t keep up. He was clumsy, had a little too much spit, and nearly jumped out of his skin when you slid the tip of your tongue against his.

Frustrated, you pulled away from him.

“Are you okay?” you snapped.

Eddie nodded vigorously. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you okay?”

You didn’t want to crush his spirit and say it was disappointing, but you also wanted more. “You’re just--you’re acting like you’ve never done this before.”

His cheeks deepened into a harsh maroon. “I haven’t.”

Your hands dropped from his face as you stared at him incredulously. “Haven’t what?”

“This!” Eddie shrieked with frustration. He removed his hands from your tits to pull his boxers over his exposed dick. “I haven’t had a chick dream about me! Or storm into my house with her tits out! Or blow me! Or even--”

The realization hit you like a bag of bricks. Shocked, you blurted, “Oh, my god. You’re a virgin.”

Eddie seized his speech mid rant--mouth snapping shut like a gator’s.

This couldn’t be. Eddie? Eddie Munson? He’d been in high school forever and he never had a girlfriend? Not once? The guy who was like nineteen or twenty? Old enough to go to bars and clubs and--didn’t he play in a band? No girls hung around after the show to try and sleep with the band? Especially now that you’ve seen what he was hiding in those tight black jeans of his.

“How?” you gasped, completely by accident.

Frustrated and embarrassed, Eddie snapped. “It just never happened, okay? No one wants to fuck the freak! Except you, I guess,” he added hastily. “But I think I just ruined that.”

True, you never saw a girl hanging around Eddie at school, but you thought it was just because he was into girls outside of the high school scope. His own age, from bars, from people he knew from earlier years at Hawkins High. With how Eddie carried himself--so sure and in your face--the thought didn’t occur to you that he’d never done anything before.

Your shoulders sagged as the full weight of disappointment sank in. If Eddie was a virgin, he wouldn’t have any idea on how to give you what you wanted. Weeks of dreaming about him were just that--The opposite of reality. Fantasies. Falsehood. The type of rush and satisfaction you got from your dreams would not be received here today, and that was almost devastating. Despite his ignorance of the female body, he probably didn’t want you--someone who barely spoke to him before today--to be the one to champion his first time.

You also felt stupid. So fucking stupid for having built up this guy in your head, only to be so very wrong about him. For as big and bad as Eddie Munson tried to make himself, he was currently the epitome of one of Madonna’s greatest hits.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie grumbled bitterly. “Trust me, no one is more disappointed than I am about it.”

Swallowing harshly, you nodded and tried to smile the ache away. “It’s okay. I’m just surprised. But um--I should probably get going--”

Eddie’s face fell into panic. “No!” he shouted loudly, making you jump at the volume. “I mean--you don’t have to go. We can still do whatever you want. If you want.”

Did you still want to? There was the matter of the soreness in your belly that would only get worse the longer you were left unsatisfied, but you didn’t really have the patience for Eddie to try and figure out how to touch you.

You tried to play it off politely. “Don’t you want your first time to be with someone you care about? I wouldn’t want to take that from--”

“Take it!” Eddie interrupted. “Swear, you’ll be making both of our dreams come true.”

It was difficult to argue with that. You were already here with nothing else to do. And after the hell you went through to make yourself presentable for him? You deserved at least something. The image you curated of him was already shattered to bits. Could any further harm be done at this point?

Eddie took the silence of your deliberation as an opportunity to plead his case. Sliding his large hands up your back, he leaned forward to plant a kiss on your collarbone.

“You could teach me,” he said softly before moving his mouth to attend to the curve of your breast. “Show me what you like.”

Now there was an idea. None of the guys you had been with before were virgins, but they also weren’t very knowledgeable on what it took to please you. With Eddie not having any prior experience, it would be easier to get him to do what you needed so you could both enjoy it, instead of him getting off and you having to take care of yourself after anyway.

Twisting your arm behind your back, you unhooked your bra, letting the straps slide down your shoulders. “Only if you promise not to use what I show you on anyone else.”

Eddie licked his lips as he watched the lace drop to fully reveal your breasts. “Wouldn’t dare.” Tentatively, as if he was scared to move too fast, Eddie cupped the soft flesh and lifted.

“They’re heavy,” he said with surprise.

You chuckled. “They can be.” Placing your hands over his, you guided him where you wanted him, and told him to squeeze.

“That doesn’t hurt?” he asked curiously.

You shook your head. “You’re not gonna hurt me, Eddie. Just…do what you want, and I’ll let you know if I don’t like it.”

“What if you do like it?”

Your patience was already thinning. “You’ll know.”

There it was again. That tantalizing tongue of his poking out of the side of his mouth as he finally gave in.

Gripping his shoulders for stability, your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of him kneading your chest. Experimenting with pressure, noting that your breath hitched when he held you a little firmer—the way your head tilted back when he brushed his palms over the pebbled flesh of your nipples. His hands felt just as good as you hoped they would. Maybe even better, as they were rougher than you imagined. The harsh texture in contrast to your smooth skin fueled the fire brewing between your legs. The contented sigh that fell from your parted lips when he rolled them between his fingers. Pinching, tugging, sometimes too hard but he paid attention to your direction, never making the same mistake twice.

When his mouth enveloped the hardened nub, you felt all the breath leave your lungs in a rapid huff as you lurched forward involuntarily from the pulse of pleasure coursing through you.

No one had done that to you before. The most attention your boobs ever got was clumsy groping and a sloppy wet kiss to the tops. Never had anyone swirled their tongue over your nipples, and suddenly you felt very cheated.

“Keep doing that,” you breathed, finally living out another fantasy of threading your finger through his hair at the base of his neck to hold him close. It was softer than it looked--thicker and lush. You wondered what it would feel like tickling the inside of your thighs.

Eddie changed course, going from languid swirls to quick flicks that sent jolts of need through your body. Your hips started to rock on their own accord, gliding your sopping cunt over his cock.

Eddie groaned loudly—the vibrations making you whimper. He dropped his hands from your breasts, ignoring the meek whine of protest from you at the loss of contact, and instead focused on gripping the bare fat of your ass beneath your skirt to move you how he wanted—pulled down flush against him and faster. Your hips sped up to meet his pace, relishing in the way the head of his cock bumped your clit with each pass.

He pulled off of your breast with your nipple gently clenched between his teeth, releasing it with a primal growl. You hoped he would show the same attention to the other side, but instead he directed his mouth to the column of your throat--sucking lightly, nipping and licking his way around.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groaned. “Makin such pretty noises for me.”

“Y-you can only leave marks--” you began breathlessly, interrupted by a mouth escaping your lips at the feel of him finding that sweet spot at the juncture of your neck. “--if I can mark you.”

Eddie’s response was indecipherable between the grunt that emitted from him, the way his lips latched onto the soft skin of your neck, and whatever he was trying to mumble. The sting of the suction on your throat paired with the vibrations of his failed attempt at speech was becoming too much.

“You’re soaking me, baby,” he moaned. “Feels so fucking good.”

Grip tightening on your ass, his hips bucked into you, causing shockwaves to roll through the tendrils of your nerves. Finally, the ache you’d been suffering from for weeks was going to be cured. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to subsiding the dull burn in the pit of your stomach with each rhythmic roll of your hips against his. Abdominal muscles fluttering, hole clenching around nothing, blood like molten lava through your veins, moaning and panting with abandon--If he felt this good without even being inside you, you couldn’t wait to find out what like it felt like to be filled with him.

You could just reach down, yank your ruined underwear to the side and slide down the length of him, but you couldn’t stop your movements long enough to do so. You were climbing to your peak and fast.

But Eddie beat you to it. As soon as you opened your mouth to tell him you were on the precipice of seeing stars, Eddie gave one--two more rough thrusts as he let out an animalistic growl in the crook of your neck.

Panic set in. “No. No!” you whined to yourself, trying not to lose impending orgasm by continuing to ride him relentlessly, but it was too late. The tingle had already faded too far to get back without having to start all over.

Disappointed, you closed your eyes to prevent tears of frustration from falling and laid your head atop his in defeat.

Eddie didn’t move from your neck. “Goddamn it! I’m sorry,” he panted. “I’m so fucking sorry. You just--it felt so good and I--fuck!”

“It’s okay,” you replied flatly. If you weren’t mere seconds from cumming your brains out, it would have been hot. Getting him so worked up that he couldn’t control himself? Cumming in his frog underwear while he clutched onto for dear life? Literally the subject of your dreams. But with how sore your gut was getting, it was almost cruel to have lost your well earned orgasm so close to the finish line.

Eddie pulled away from you, looking quite dejected with bits of your hair stuck to his wet lips. “It’s not,” he said breathlessly. “Let me make it up to you. Please? I can still make you feel good. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be good to go.”

He looked so pitiful. Big brown eyes shining at you. Lips pouty. Chest heaving as he pleaded for another chance.

How could you say no to that face? To the offer, really. None of the others would have ever cared that you didn’t get yours, if they even noticed at all.

“Okay,” you answered with a nod. “But, can we go to your room?”

“Yes!” Eddie exclaimed with relief. “Yeah. Uh, let me just--give me a few minutes to clean it up a little.”

You untangled yourself from him and stood to your feet, embarrassed by the stickiness of your thighs. You’d never gotten that wet before, not even by yourself.

“Holy shit!” Eddie laughed, staring at his lap.

You were instantly mortified by the sight. Eddie wasn’t joking--you did soak him. Between your fluids and his, the navy blue boxers were saturated.

Panic fluttered in your chest. He probably thought it was gross. “Sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“Sorry?” Eddie repeated. “Sorry for what? This is--this is fucking hot. I mean, not mine so much, but holy shit.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Eddie was downright…beaming. Eyes kissing in the corners from how large his toothy grin was as he admired your joint handiwork. “You don’t think it’s gross?”

Eddie wiggled his brows. “Lucky boxers just got luckier.”

Huh. That was new too. Mostly that aspect of your body was treated as something to be ashamed of.

“Your room?” you prodded gently.

“Oh! Right.” Eddie pulled his jeans up from his thighs before standing, holding them up to his hips in lieu of buckling them. “Don’t leave!” he shouted as he sprinted down the short hallway.

You chuckled to yourself as he disappeared from sight. Who would have thought Eddie Munson was so…dorky? The image he projected at school and the one you conjured in your head weren’t him at all--Brash, tough, something to be feared or avoided, possibly demented. What a crock. He was goofy. Maybe even sweet. And certainly easier on the eyes than you gave him credit for.

You took the opportunity to find your shirt from the living room floor and try to locate your bra that you threw from the kitchen while Eddie did…whatever he was doing in there. More various banging and swearing emitted from the depths of the hallway that made it sound like he was trying to tear the place down instead of clean it up.

At a closer look of the walls within the Munson home, more than hats and mugs stood out to you. A couple of photos bleached by the sun were tacked to the sheet rock. One showed a large older woman with glasses the size of the moon atop her nose sitting at a wooden table with a handful of cards, a cigarette burning between her fingers, and an expression that you’d bet your life was caused by a winning hand at whatever game she was playing. Another with two little boys in matching coveralls outside a wired fence, both grimacing and squinting to protect themselves from the bright light of the sun. The one next to it was of a girl—who couldn't be older than seventeen—holding a baby with a head full of wild curls, bright wide eyes, grinning proudly to show the two tiny teeth cutting above his gums.

“I know that face,” you grinned, flattening the curled photo against the wall for a better look.

Eddie poked his head through the doorframe. “Did you say something?”

You tapped the picture and took great joy in watching his cheeks pinken at the realization of what you were looking at.

“So you were always cute,” you replied happily.

The color of Eddie’s face rivaled that of a tomato. Watching him become flustered was probably your new favorite thing to do to him. Mean and scary Munson blushing and curling inwards at a compliment? Interesting, indeed.

He cleared his throat and pointed his thumb towards his room. “Do you wanna—?”

Absolutely you did. You followed him with a nod into the small bedroom and took it all in. This was certainly what you expected his room to look like, though if this was the clean version you wondered what it looked like a few minutes ago. He did make the bed at least. Posters and drawings that looked like they were cataloged straight from hell lined the walls. Monsters, demons, skeletons, witches—some printed, painted, and hand drawn. The dresser and desk were covered with stuff. Tools, magazines, ashtrays, were those bullet shells? And a light blue box of condoms topped with a thin layer of dust.

You inspected the obviously unopened box and held back giggles. “Don’t Think we should use these. They expired in September of 1982.”

Horrified, Eddie snatched the package from your hand and stammered, “My uncle—when I started high school.” He gulped, comically tossing the offending material over his shoulder into the abyss. “He thinks he’s funny.”

His attention immediately went to your still bare chest, eyes boring into it like he could see the future through your tits. Suddenly feeling quite awkward and self conscious, you crossed your arms to hide yourself from him, unsure of what to do next.

“You’re pretty overdressed,” you pointed out. While you were only down to stringy lace underwear and a black skirt, Eddie wasn’t missing any clothing.

Breaking from his trance, Eddie scrambled fast as lightning to pull his shirt over his head, accidentally snagging a fistful of his hair along with it causing him to hiss. It was so difficult not to laugh, watching him scamper to free himself of his jeans, but when he stood to his full height in nothing but his ruined boxer shorts, you took a step closer to admire his body.

He was certainly taller than you—your eyes only meeting the middle of his tattooed chest. There was more ink there too. A horrible looking skull. A spider. A dagger with some sort of weird writing on it. But it was all so fitting of him. The black dye complimented his alabaster skin nicely.

As did the shadow of muscles on his abdomen. He was a lot more built than you thought he was under those layers of leather and denim. He wasn’t big enough for the football team, but he would probably do well in soccer with those long legs of his.

Toying with the guitar pick that dangled from his necklace, you looked up at him from your lashes. “You should probably kiss me.”

Eddie swallowed hard at the suggestion, making you grin a little at how nervous he still seemed to be despite being in nothing but his underwear.

But he didn’t kiss you. Not yet. The way his big brown eyes were raking over you, like he could see through your very soul, made you shrink a little under the strength of his gaze. But he had a sweet smile stretched across his lips--the kind that let his dimples dent his cheeks.

“You really are good lookin’,” you blurted.

Eddie chuckled softly, gently moving the loose strands of hair out of your face with his thumb. “You’re gorgeous.” He moved his hand to caress your cheek, the other delicately tracing up the back of your arms with only the pads of your fingertips, sending shivers down your spine at the featherlight touch.

This kind of attention was something new. Something you hadn’t experienced before except for maybe with Steve, but the betrayal you felt after he ignored you once he got what he wanted left you bitter. Other experiences weren’t as…intimate. Gentle. Soothing, even. And you felt a tad bit guilty for coming on to Eddie so strongly, knowing full well what it was like to only be used for your body.

This was his first time doing anything ever with a girl. And while yes, you were desperate to get some sort of relief from the horrible tension in your stomach, you were enjoying Eddie’s sincerity. That’s what it had to be, right? He wasn’t like Steve with an ulterior motive--Eddie knew he was going to have you. And he decided to be sweet anyway.

You took the opportunity to wrap your arms around his slim waist, holding him close in a tight hug. He was so warm. Radiating heat that you gladly absorbed, taking in a breath as you pressed your cheek against his sternum. “You’re not what I thought you’d be like,” you admitted shamelessly.

Eddie returned the gesture, pressing your bare chest into his as close as he could--scratchy palms sliding up and down your back--occasionally clutching the soft curves. “And what’s that? Mean and scary?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach that came to life when he kissed the crown of your head. “I’d thought you’d be…rough. Maybe a little mean. Domineering.”

With your face buried in his torso, you didn’t see Eddie frown or furrow his brows. “Is that what you like?”

You took some time to think before answering. “I don’t know what I like, Eddie. No one’s ever asked,” you sighed. And it was true. With your limited encounters, you didn’t have good concrete data on what did it for you. Billy was what you accused Eddie of being, and you could count on one hand the amount of times you actually enjoyed yourself, only to be reprimanded for it later.

Eddie’s grip tightened, and he peppered a few more kisses atop your head, temples, and the edge of your hairline. Each one making your heart flutter faster and the heat in your cheeks rise. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. I know what I liked in my dreams,” you added thoughtfully. “We could always give it a shot. If you want to, I mean.”

Eddie pulled away just enough to lock eyes with you--tilting your head up further with the knuckle of his index finger. “I’d sure as shit love to, but you gotta know, I’m not him. Whoever you’ve been dreaming about. I mean, I already disappointed you with being--you know.” Eddie gulped, lightly nibbling at the edge of his bottom lip.

You placed a quick peck onto the corner of his mouth, and another on the other side. “I know. You don’t have to be anyone or anything. Just you. I’m sorry if I’ve made you think otherwise.”

Eddie nodded, the edge of his lip ticking up into a fragment of a smile. “Still want me then? I’ll still die a very happy man if you change your mind.”

“Oh, I still want you, Eddie Munson,” you chuckled heartily.

“Well then,” Eddie grinned, removing your hands from behind his back and bringing your knuckles to his lips for a quick kiss. “You shall have me.”

You couldn’t stop giggling. Giggling for god’s sake. It was so cheesy. Such a bad line. If anyone else had said it, you probably would have snorted and rolled your eyes. But Eddie? Something about him made it work--the way his eyes practically sparkled or the fact that he just kissed the tops of your hands like some Victorian Royal. Why hadn’t you paid any attention to him before? You could almost kick yourself for believing what everyone else said about him instead of finding out for yourself. But you were here now, and didn’t want to waste anymore time. You wrapped your hands around his neck, bringing his face down to be able to catch him in a kiss.

This time was better. Instead of rushing him, you let him set the pace--take the lead--let him be the one to decide if and when he wanted to deepen the kiss. You followed his movements, moving with him and trying to give pointers with your own body language when things got a little…lost. The longer it went, the more his confidence grew. Languid licks into your mouth turned into more adventurous tugging at your bottom lip. And before long, you were on the bed with Eddie hovering over you--skirt and underwear cast aside somewhere in the chaos of his room.

Body practically searing, you held your breath as Eddie traced his fingertips over the soft expanse of your belly. Normally self consciousness of how you looked would cloud your mind with doubt—stretch marks, the size and shape of your abdomen—but with how Eddie gazed at you with a slack jaw and brown eyes almost pleading, you forgot to think too much about it.

“Can I touch you?” he asked carefully, rubbing his large palm against your stomach.

Though you were glad Eddie cared enough to ask permission, you were becoming increasingly impatient as lust clouded your mind. “I might kill you if you don’t,” you answered with a huff.

Eddie licked his lips and spared a glance between your legs. You let your knee drop further, inviting him to explore. He slid his palm down to slide his fingers along your sticky slit. A sigh of relief rushed from your lips at the contact, and your hips instinctively followed his fingers for more.

His eyes clenched shut as he groaned through parted lips. “Oh, fuck. You’re so wet.”

“It’s cause of you,” you praised, threading your fingers in his hair and holding his forehead to yours once again. “You did this to me.”

Eddie audibly gulped, unable to both carry on a conversation and focus on his fingers at the same time. He was being too delicate for your liking, barely able to feel the brush of his fingertips. Desperate to help, you put your hand over his, showing him how you wanted to be touched.

“Like this,” you said, adding more pressure against his middle finger as he traced the path from your entrance to your clit, breath hitching at the tingling sensation when he reached it.

“And just--” your pressed his fingers harder against you, showing him just how you liked to be rubbed. You tried to tell him he could switch it up between small circles or figure eights, but the only thing that came out of you were little squeaks of appreciation. The callus of his fingertips against the delicate flesh there was hypnotizing to say the least.

“That’s good?” he questioned with a furrowed brow.

The circular ministrations he applied to your clit kept you from doing anything other than nod dumbly. But that seemed to be acceptable to Eddie, whose lips twisted into a lopsided grin.

You moved your grasp from his hand to find purchase on his forearm instead. His half lidded eyes stayed focused on yours. “Can’t believe you’re letting me do this,” he admitted.

You wanted to tell him you were getting a hell of a lot out of it too, but again, words failed you. Instead, you settled for a breathy “Mhm” and let yourself get lost in his touch.

Within a few minutes, Eddie got more spontaneous. He moved his attention back down to your hole, keeping the heel of his palm right where you wanted. You were surprised when he teased your entrance with his finger without being prompted, but enjoyed the attention nonetheless. When you answered his raised brow with a nod, the delightful stretching around his thick finger paired with the friction on your sensitive button was nothing short of relief. You greedily took what he gave you, rocking your hips steadily to set the pace you wanted from him, and he happily obliged. Swiftly gliding his finger in and out with calculated compression against your clit.

“Yes,” you cooed with a heaving chest. “Jus-just like that.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groaned, hot breath fanning against your face. “Fucking yourself on my fingers. Jesus Christ.”

He never took his eyes away from yours. You wanted so desperately to kiss him, but somehow this was far more intimate. Noses nudging against each other, lips barely brushing to breath in every whine he coaxed out of you. He was so gorgeous like this. Brown eyes dark and hazy, pouty lips open in a silent ‘O’ as his brow furrowed in concentration. He made pretty noises too, panting and groaning along with you like it felt just as good to him.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Eddie,” you whimpered, grip tightening on his forearm. “Eddie, I need you.”

“‘M right here.”

Shaking your head, you moved your grasp from his arm to his cock. “Need you. Inside.”

All of his movements ceased. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Really? Like now?”

“Yes, now!” you whined.

“Right! Sorry! Just can’t--really can’t believe this is about to happen,” he babbled. He made quick work of getting rid of his boxers before adjusting himself properly. He was heavy, but in a way that brought you comfort as he draped his body over yours and caged your head between his forearms. Both breathing heavily from exhilaration, you took a second to revel in the moment.

“Holy shit!” he laughed.

Brushing the long waves behind his ear, you nodded and leaned up just enough to press a tender kiss to his plump lips.

Eddie couldn’t contain his excitement. He moved from your lips, you kissing all over your face before settling for sloppy opened mouth kisses dotting a path from your collarbone up to that mind numbing spot at the juncture of your neck. As soon as his teeth scraped against it, you squeezed his hips with your knees, the craving for him only intensifying. The feel of his breath on your neck, hair tickling your chin and cheek, the weight of his chest pressing against yours was all too dizzying.

“Need you,” you whimpered against his cheek. You dipped your hand between your bodies to grab his length and poise it at your entrance.

Eddie groaned at the desperation in your demand. Sliding the head of his cock between your drenched folds, the torture of him being so close was getting to be too much. Your body jolted with every bump of his cock against your swollen bud. You were getting impatient, and needed him to be inside already.

“Eddie, please,” you begged.

Breathing raggedly, Eddie obliged. He pushed himself in with you guiding him, emitting a groan of satisfaction that rumbled from the depths of his chest. Yours was just as loud as you felt him slide into you, walls stretching with that delicious bite to consume him completely.

As soon as he reached his end, a simultaneous breath of relief flowed between both of you. It was almost intoxicating being so full of him. It didn’t seem like you could feel anything else but him, both inside and out, and you were deliriously addicted to it. You tangled your fingers into the curls of hair at the nape of his neck and yanked him down to meet your lips and a hungry kiss. You wanted him to understand just how much you wanted him. Greedy, sloppy, and feverish—you put all your unbridled desire into curling your tongue around his, roughly nipping his bottom lip.

Breathing heavily, Eddie pulled away. “It’s okay?”

You nodded vigorously, almost begging him with the look in your eye to please give you what you wanted. “You can move.”

Inching back, the slow drag of his cock between your tight walls was enough to arch your back, already missing the feel of engulfing him completely. But when he snapped his hips forward in a powerful thrust, you couldn’t help the wanton moan that escaped your lips.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

You hummed in response, unable to formulate more of a reply than that. Even if he didn’t know what he was doing yet, being stuffed full of him was already a relief of its own.

He experimented with pace and tempo. It took some time for him to find a rhythm that was to your liking. You didn’t want to be too bossy or demanding, so you kept your queues limited to directing his hips with your hands—subtly maneuvering him until you found just the right motion that made your head flop back onto the pillows. It was his first time after all, and you didn’t want him to lose confidence with constant redirection.

“There!” you gasped once he found the spot you could never reach on your own. “Right there, baby.”

“Yeah?” Eddie grunted back. His hips rutted into yours in a steady, fast paced rhythm that kept you bucking into him for more. It was too good to not keep chasing the sensation of him gliding into you with each forceful pump of his cock.

Whatever he was hitting seemed to also be the off switch to your brain. All thoughts were erased from your mind in an instant, only leaving behind an instinctual need for more.

“Yeah,” you repeated, no longer in control of the words falling from your lips. “Yes. Yes!”

He dropped his chest down further, sweat slicked skin sliding against yours as he devoured your breathy moans in a heated kiss. You practically shouted at the new pressure of his pelvis grinding against your clit. You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist and locked your ankles together to keep him right where you wanted.

“So fucking perfect,” he said thrkigh gritted teeth. “Look so pretty taking my cock.”

Normally dirty talk would have been another eyeroll and possibly get rid of any sexual desire you had. But it was another thing Eddie would get away with. It could be because of how grateful he looked when he said it, or because he felt so good inside you that you couldn’t care less what came out of his mouth so long as he kept his hips moving.

You couldn’t get enough of him—wanting to feel every inch he had to offer. You held him close, letting your hands roam around the expanse of his back. Feeling every ripple his muscles that appeared with each contraction of his torso. The ridges of his ribs. The dent of the dimples on his lower back. The soft fat of his cute little ass that you pressed harder against you to get him as deep as you could.

And there it was. The perfect combination of pressure, speed, and depth.

“Eddie,” you gasped against him. “Eddie, don’t stop,” you pleaded breathlessly. “God, don’t stop.”

He drove into you harder, rewarded with the deafening sound of the headboard clashing against the wall. It was all getting to be too much for Eddie. The squealing of the old mattress springs, your cries of pleasure and death grip your hot, slick walls had on his cock, the bounce of your tits slapping against his chest all were causing his abdomen to contract in a way that could only mean one thing.

“I’m close,” he warned loudly, hips faltering a little.

Instinctively, your legs clenched tighter around him. You didn’t want to lose it. Not again. Not knowing it would just leave you frustrated and sore. “I’m almost there,” you announced. You weren’t far off, but not quite there yet. “Just a little bit more, baby, please.”

Eddie gritted his teeth and willed himself to hold it, losing both the battle and his mind with each high pitched mewl that escaped the back of your throat, each plea to not stop as you hurdled toward your release.

The hair on your arms started to stand on edge as the tingling goosebumps erupted across your naked skin. As soon as the tight coil in the pit of your belly ruptured, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body, you lost your vision. Did you black out? You couldn’t say. The only thing you could hear was the roar of blood coursing through your ears. The only sensation you could identify as you convulsed around Eddie was the tingling that radiated through every nerve you possessed. The only word you could pronounce between wails and blissful sobs was “Eddie!”

Finally. After weeks of dreaming, you had Eddie Munson. After a year or so of solo ventures, you had an orgasm that wasn’t by your own hand. After years of bad to mediocre sex, you had the best climax of your life. At fucking last.

When your body went completely boneless and released Eddie from the vice grip your legs had on him, he abandoned his post and collapsed next to you in a breathless, wheezing heap.

You found Eddie’s sweaty hand and laid yours atop it. He flipped it over and interlaced his fingers with yours, clutching tightly. A nonverbal way to say “I’m still here.”

Minutes ticked by as you tried to float back into your body. Eddie’s popcorn ceiling was all you could focus on while your heart stopped pulsing so hard against your face to where you could physically see the rapid beating. And when your lungs stopped screaming for air, you turned your head to see Eddie still struggling to breathe.

“Shit, I gotta quit smoking,” Eddie wheezed.

You giggled and watched as he placed sloppy kiss on the back of your hand. “Glad you think that’s funny,” he jested.

“Want me to get you some water?” You offered, trying to supress your giggles at his red and sweaty face.

He shook his head. “I’ll get us both some in a second.”

You pushed yourself up on your elbow, your hand still tangled with his, and placed your chin on his chest. “Did you cum?”

“Oh hell yeah!” Eddie answered eagerly. “Hard not to when there’s a hot chick screaming my name.”

You hid your face by burying it in his chest, concerned about what you said and how you sounded.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Eddie tapped the top of your head until you reluctantly looked at him. “So fucking hot. Wouldn’t change a thing. C’mere.”

You obliged, crawling up Eddie’s chest and meeting him in a smooch. A quick peck turned into two. Into three. Into one long kiss that stole what little breath you regained.

A sudden sense of dread settled in your stomach when you watched the way Eddie’s eyes raked over you. You could clearly see adoration. Appreciation. Glee. And while the look on his face should have brought you comfort and ease, anxiety took hold. Steve looked at you the same way, and that was a ruse. What if this turned out to be the same? Eddie could easily kick you to the curb now that he got what he wanted. It’s what all men did, isn’t it?

Nervously, you began to fiddle with one of the rings on his fingers. “You know, there’s one part of my dreams that I hope comes true.”

Eddie raised his brow. “Do tell.”

“You don’t forget me in the morning.”

Eddie snorted. “Sweetheart, I’m never going to forget you. Even when I’m old and in the corner of some nursing home, I’ll always remember this night.”

“That’s not what I mean, Eddie,” you said sadly. “I don’t want you to act like this never happened or ignore me.”

Eddie’s smile slid from his face, an expression of concern replacing it. “I’m not gonna do that. I’d invite you to spend the night—shit, the whole damn weekend—but I didn’t wanna scare you. Come off creepy or whatever.”

Your abdomen felt lighter. “You mean it?”

He kissed your forehead with a wet, loud smack. “I should have told you—when I said you have me, I meant it. I am your ever faithful, humble servant.”

Those damn giggles returned. “Then I suppose I’ll keep you, so long as you’ll have me.”

The rest of the night was better than you could have ever imagined. After a shower that left you covering in half a dozen hickies or more, You both talked about everything that came to mind, often getting sidetracked and falling down other rabbit holes of stories before looping back to the initial thought that started it all. Eddie let you see some of the most vulnerable parts of himself, and in turn, you showed him those parts of you. Before you knew it, the front door of the trailer slammed shut, announcing the arrival of the eldest Munson.

Eddie grabbed his alarm clock and showed you the angry red numbers.

You gasped at the time. “Six in the morning?! Eddie, we’ve been up all night!”

He tossed the clock carelessly onto his nightstand, not at all looking concerned when it crashed to the floor. “Stop being interesting for five minutes so we can go to sleep.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but snuggled closer into his chest. This is where you wanted to be. Warm, held, and adored.

Though he wasn’t at all what you dreamt of, Eddie Munson was indeed a dream come true.

————————————————————

Part 2 coming soon?

For more of my writing, I recommend my current series: Disjointed.

Tagging those who responded to the feelers post and those who have been putting up w me the entire writing process!

@eddiemunsonspantschain @pastel-pillows @stayonmars @lesservillain @2clones-1kamino @laura83stuff-blog-blog @katethetank @thruheavenandhighwater @hellfiredarling @mmunson86 @b-irock

this would be with eddie and i'll die on that hill

I was thinking the same thing!! like irl me isn't allowed to go in haunted houses for Reasons but this is fiction so...

(help idk what happened here I didn't mean for this to turn into smut 👀💦 cw: thigh riding, eddie being a perv)

---

"C'mon it'll be fun!"

You looked from Eddie's excited face to the entrance of the old barn that had been converted into a dark, looming haunted house for the season. Black curtains concealing the entryway fluttered in the cool autumn breeze, curling like hands beckoning you closer. But the muffled screams coming from inside kept your feet glued to the ground.

"Eddie, I don't know..." Your hands curled tighter around his arm, digging your nails into his leather jacket.

"I was a scarer here last season and it's the same every year. Trust me, it's not that bad."

"Not that bad" meant different things to you and Eddie. Sure it was just a bunch of teenagers in masks and makeup, but the fear was real. At the very least you knew Eddie wouldn't run off and leave you, (that had happened to you once before, it wasn't fun).

"How 'bout this?" Eddie held you in front of him, suddenly serious. "Every time we make it to the end of a section, I'll give you a kiss."

"Eddie," you roll your eyes, "if you wanna make out we can just go back to the van."

"Don't tempt me," his playful growl teased a smile from your lips. "C'mon, pretty girl. I think I make a pretty good distraction." Eddie waved his hands over his front and wiggled his eyebrows. You could help but laugh, hitting his chest and begging him to stop when he started to gyrate his hips at you. He captured you in his arms, his whole body shaking as he laughed with you.

"Okay," you took a deep breath, Eddie's leather and weed scent settling your nerves the tiniest bit. "I'm ready."

"That's my girl." Eddie smiled and pressed a kiss into your hair before leading you in.

Whatever braveness you felt before walking into the mock-house immediately disappeared when you realized how dark it was inside. You clung tighter to Eddie's arm.

"It's okay. They make the first hallway super dark to fuck with you."

Eddie didn't whisper which somehow made you feel safer. He tromped down the hallway and through the first creepy area in his shit kickers like his raucous feet would keep the monsters away.

The first area was unsettling, but not bad like Eddie said. It was even kind of cute with the fake bats hanging from the ceiling. Once you made it to the end, Eddie took your face in his hands and planted one on you. It was a wet sloppy kiss, purposely so to make you laugh and push him off you.

"Eddie!"

"There's one," he grinned. "Man, this was a great idea."

The rooms got scarier as you went of course, and you screamed more than a few times when someone jumped out from behind a corner or banged an old shovel on the floor. Your heart was hammering harder in your chest with every room.

"How big is this fucking barn?"

"Who cares?"

Eddie had you pressed up against a wall somewhere between the fifth and sixth area. His mouth was too busy kissing down your neck, hidden in the shadows, to care about whoever was going through the house behind you.

His rewards for being brave had gotten a little too "rewarding" and after the last one Eddie couldn't seem to stop. Not that you minded. You'd much rather feel Eddie's lips on your skin than go through the rest of the house.

"Fuck, Eddie, what if someone sees?" The sharp suction of his mouth on your neck was your answer. Who cares? His lips and teeth and tongue whispered, "Let them see. Let them see you're mine. My brave girl."

"Eddie," you whine and grind against where he's straining for you in his tight jeans.

"That's it, pretty girl, doing such a good job."

You didn't know if Eddie was talking about your progress through the haunted house or how you were grinding against the thigh he slotted between your legs but you didn't care.

Eddie squeezed your hips, guiding you towards your release. The rings on his fingers were cool against your heated skin as you worked faster. Eddie could tell you were close by the way your hips stuttered, how you held your breath and shook against his chest.

"That's it, that's it, baby. Show me, give it to me."

Just as you reached your peak, Eddie slammed his mouth on yours, stealing the scream from between your lips and swallowing it down. Your thighs shook around his as you came down, the fake house around you totally forgotten.

"Fuck me, that was hot."

You couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but smile at Eddie as he smiled down at you. You weren't sure if you could walk, but Eddie pulled you through the last two rooms anyway. You stumbled out of the house like you were drunk, barely able to stand and giggling like a lunatic.

Outside one of the workers running the haunted house was speaking with two security guards when they suddenly turned and shouted, pointing at you and Eddie.

"Shit! Run!"

Eddie grabbed your hand and made a dash for the parking lot and his van, hauling your ass behind him as you cackled like a goddamn witch.

Yeah, haunted houses with Eddie might be your new favorite part of Halloween.

𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary You ask your best friend Eddie to give you your first kiss. Eddie's not really in the habit of saying no to you. [4k]

warnings fem!reader, fluff, first kiss, eddie being totally sweet on his best friend, wrist kisses, sharing a bed, eddie reads to you, you hurt your arm and eddie is overprotective/doting etc, unspoken mutual pining, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

"This is way heavier than you implied," you say, words followed by a startled, pained gasp as you lose your grip on the amp and it almost pops your wrist from the socket trying to keep it up. 

"Shit," he says. 

Eddie quickly shoves the bigger amp he'd been carrying into the back of the van and makes to help you, his fingers pushing into your stomach as he lugs it up into his arms.

"I'm sorry," he says, and for once you think his apology might be genuine. "I forget how heavy they feel at the end of the night." 

Your arms ache. You definitely pulled something you didn't mean to, a sharp pinching pain climbing from your wrist to the crook of your elbow. "Eddie, I think I hurt myself." 

He shoves the last amp into the van and doesn't bother closing the door, turning back to you with a concerned grimace. "Yeah? Your wrist?" 

He holds his hand out and you extend your arm, wincing. He's tentative, taking your wrist in one hand while the other grasps your upper arm loosely. 

"What's it feel like?" 

"Like I twisted my ankle, but in my wrist." 

He laughs under his breath at your explanation, sweat-damp hair falling into his eyes as he looks you over. "The word you're looking for is 'sprained,'" he informs you jovially. 

There's no physical evidence of any injury, not that either of you had expected that, and he has no real reason to be touching you. His thumb smooths over the flat of your wrist.

"How bad is it? Amputation?" you ask, suddenly all drama. You put on a tearful frown and pinch your eyebrows together. 

Eddie – who's used to this, who encourages this – nods gravely. "You'll likely never use it again." 

"Good heavens, doc. Is there really nothing you can do?" you implore, leaning away from him with your uninjured hand thrown to your forehead. 

"Nothing… unless you're willing to undergo the most invasive, painful, gruesome operation any one girl has ever undergone." 

"Anything." 

"Close your eyes." 

You close them, always willing to play these fanciful make-believe's with him. He's charming, it's funny, but you can't say you expect the hot press of his lips against your pulse. If it had been a smacking, playful thing with too much spit you would have laughed about it, but it hadn't been. It's gentle. It's sweet. 

He pulls away. You open your eyes to find him lingering, staring at your wrist. A split-second. 

"Fixed, right?" he asks smugly. 

You take your arm back and curl it towards your chest, twinging with pain. "Definitely. Good as new." 

Eddie slams the back doors shut and stretches with a groan, cool night air kissing the shining sliver of abdomen that emerges. He's always sweaty after a gig. You know you should find it gross. 

You should. 

"Alright, get in the van, sweet thing. It's way past your bedtime." 

You laugh and climb into the passenger side, skirt riding up and tights featuring a brand new ladder thanks to some idiot who'd almost broken your leg. You point it out to Eddie as he starts the engine, "Did you see this? S'my last good pair of tights."

He tugs at the ladder and you squeal, pulling your thigh up and over the other so he can't reach it.

"There, they're punk now. Do it on purpose and you're cool," he says sagely. 

"Are you staying?" he asks, the question so familiar it doesn't need a proper end. 

"Thanks for that." 

There's lost minutes of a comfortable silence. You watch the roads change as you draw nearer and nearer to home.

"If you shower first." 

He sighs like this is very tortuous of you to ask but agrees. "Yeah, whatever. Always get what you want," he mutters, taking a rough turn that has you gripping your seat. "My bad." 

"Learn to drive!" you demand, laughing. 

"You learn to drive! Then you wouldn't need a ride every night!" 

"Baby," you say earnestly. "Rides to your shows." 

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye. You turn to him, perplexed by his uncharacteristic silence. Usually he has something quick to say, an uppity comeback, too witty for his own good and twice as fast. 

"What? Wait, don't tell me, you're having a total epiphany right now on why I'm the best friend you've ever had." You nod to yourself, leaning back in your seat with your chin held high. "It's easy. I'm extremely dedicated, I'm sharp as a whip. I'm funny, I'm confident-" 

"Humble." 

"I'm humble. And obviously very pretty."

He hums to himself. "I kind of hate when you joke about stuff like that." 

You blink and drop your chin. "What?" you ask. Weaker than you mean to, your chest feels that heavy weight of an unexpected argument, but Eddie doesn't look angry. 

"Because- 'cos I know you don't mean it." He draws his eyes from the road, a familiar stretch of black top leading into Forest Hills, and gives you a well-meaning grimace. 

"Sorry, I-" 

He clears his throat. "No, don't be. I guess I wished you actually believed that shit. Do you know how many people would come to all of my shows? Listen to the same ten songs, drink the same shitty beer and then help me pack up at the end of the night?" He sounds back to normal. Punchy, a hair's width from incensed. "Nobody but you." 

"I'm your best friend," you say firmly. "Of course I'm gonna do all that." 

"Right." He laughs and scrapes a hand through his dishevelled hair. 

You pull into the parking spot and climb out of the van. You slip like you always do, giggling to yourself as Eddie comes around to roll his eyes at you and shut the door. 

"We'll leave it for tonight," he says after he's retrieved Sweetheart, his prized guitar, traipsing up the steps to the front door. "Don't want you straining your poor wrist any further." 

You kind of agree. "Or you could do it all by yourself and I'll watch." 

"Maybe tomorrow. Are you hungry?" 

You ignore his question and waltz straight into his bedroom, throwing yourself down on his rumpled sheets with a harrumph. He puts Sweetheart back into her rightful place and presses a kiss to his fingers. You can't help thinking of the kiss he'd given you, bringing your wrist to your chest where he can't see. It feels the same as it had before, but different. It still aches. 

Eddie throws himself down next to you and climbs up over your back, a hand on your shoulder. "Is it still hurting?" 

You squeeze it. "Not really." 

"Let me see? If it's swollen I could get you some ice. Or, like, a bag of frozen peas. Not that I think we'd have anything that green in the freezer," he corrects himself.

"I don't think they have to be peas to work." 

"What if that's where you're wrong? What if we totally need the power of the peas?" 

You turn on your back so he can see your wrist. Hovering above you, all his smells and sounds are amplified. The gentle hum as he looks over your arm. The smell of sweat under deodorant, cigarette smoke and something funkier. Then, mixed in with everything, cedar. 

When his kind attention on your wrist becomes too much you wrinkle your nose and make a big show of moving away from him. "God, you stink." 

"You're fucking horrible," he says, putting your arm down carefully. "I'm gonna shower. Find your pajamas." 

"Did you wash them?" you ask as he climbs off of the bed. 

"Nope." 

You grumble about dirty clothes and search for the pajamas you'd left here last time. Eddie disappears into the cramped bathroom and you can hear every sound he makes, the clipping of bottle caps, even his footsteps moving from the cabinet under the sink and into the shower. 

Water sloughs heavily against the glass partition and you try not to listen, try not to think about him and what he's doing and where his hands are. 

When he comes in he's in a towel and nothing else. You squeak and pull his covers up past your eyes. "Christ, Eds." 

"What? It's my room. I forgot to take clothes in with me." 

"You're sullying my eyes." 

"Like you've never seen it before." 

You scowl. "I've never seen you naked." 

"Can you come out? You're being ridiculous." 

You hear him go into the bathroom and let the sheets fall from your face, blinking at the sudden brightness. Yellow lamp light bounces of the poster-covered walls, shiny as egg yolk. 

He's left the bathroom door open. You peer out into the hallway and then stop yourself, feeling guilty. You don't actually want to see him naked. You're curious. 

"Fine," he says as he trudges back in, plaid pants low on his hips. He shrugs into a t-shirt and it sticks to his damp torso, leaving his dark happy trail on show for the second time tonight. "You've never seen me naked. It's not like you've never seen any guy naked." 

You feel a tepid mixture of embarrassment and defensiveness. "Who says I've seen a guy naked?" 

His eyes are owlishly large, dark lashes not far from kissing his eyebrows as they pinch together. "What?" 

You don't repeat yourself. 

"You fucked Jerry Mandoza." 

"Did not," you say, startled. 

"I gave you condoms." 

You resist the urge to glare at him. "And you can have them back, if you like. They've been in my nightstand for a year." 

"I thought you liked him." 

"I did. I just wasn't… ready." 

He holds his hands up in surrender. "That's fine, babe. Swear. But, you never told me. Why didn't you tell me?" 

He sits heavily at the end of the bed and takes the towel from around his neck, scrubbing ruthlessly at his wet curls. 

"That's exactly why your hair gets so frizzy," you chide lightly, climbing on knees to his side. You ease the towel from his hands and are much kinder than he'd been, drying the skin before his hairline and behind his ears and then moving onto his pretty curls. 

"He didn't do anything creepy, did he?" Eddie asks. He smells like toothpaste. 

You laugh as you wring excess water from his hair as carefully as you can. "No. He was actually really sweet. Said all the right things. He was a gentleman," you drawl  dropping the towel back to his shoulders. 

"But?" 

You sit back and smile at him. "I don't know. He leaned in for a kiss and I just… I got so nervous about it. He closed his eyes and I didn't think, I turned my cheek. He didn't call me for another date. Can't say I blame him." 

You're not sure why you never told Eddie that story before. He tilts his head to one side and squints. "Why were you nervous? He was in marching band." 

You snort. "It wasn't about him. I guess I was worried my first kiss would be awful." 

He rubs the back of his neck with his towel. "First kiss, huh?" he asks. 

"Right." 

He pulls the towel away, holds it in his lap. You notice his rings are missing, likely still in the bathroom. "I mean, I think you did the right thing. If you weren't ready it can't hurt to wait. And first kisses, they can really suck. Mine, with fucking- fucking Darren Harmon, that sucked. He spit in my mouth so much I think I tasted his dinner from the night before." 

You laugh in shock and disgust. "That's gross." 

"Tell me about it." 

"Why did he spit?" 

Eddie brings his legs up onto the bed and his tone is gentle. "Well, when you kiss someone, there's like-" He raises his hands and drops them, lost for the right words. "You know, tongue." 

"Is it weird?" 

"Sure. Of course it is. But it's really fucking fun, too. Or it can be, if the spit is kept to a minimum." He purses his lips, eyebrows raised. "Actually, spit can be kinda nice if you like the person you're kissing. It's hard to explain." 

You spread your legs to fall into a W-shape, hands braced on your knees. "Sorry, I'm not trying to harass you for details." 

"You're my best friend. I'll tell you anything you want." 

You smile at your legs. 

Eddie reaches over to put his hand atop yours. He's leaning toward you, hair falling in his face as he catches your eye. "It's fine. Keep your first kiss for someone you actually like, babe. You'll like it better." 

He squeezes your fingers and leaves the room. You can hear him filling a glass of water and turning off all the lights he's left on. 

"Did you want anything else?" he asks, offering the glass. 

"No, I'm just gonna brush my teeth really quick."

"Take your time." 

You take a little bit more than you need to, staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror until your heart is pounding, thoughts coming a thousand a second. Lately, Eddie's touches – his hand around your wrist, his thigh over your thigh, even the thud of his rubber toed converse tapping yours – have become individual events in time. Even when you can't remember the conversation, you can remember his skin on yours. You look at photos from gigs and instead of thinking, Oh, that's the night we made fun of Gareth's new haircut, a truly momentous occasion, you think, That's the night Eddie tugged me by the belt loop. That's when he brushed an eyelash off of my cheek. That's when he leaned in so close I thought he was gonna kiss me. 

Even now, the conversation about kisses is fading though you desperately want to remember what he'd said. The sound of his voice slips away. The heat of his fingers curled around yours remains. 

You wash your hands twice and don't feel any better. 

As if destiny or some higher power feels the need to taunt you, you slide into bed with an amicable handful of inches between your thigh and Eddie's and he totally ignores the gap, sidling up to you with a smile. 

"You'll like this," he says, spreading the paperback in his hands open on your thigh. "'A pockmark of matter that can dissolve any light that threatens to eradicate, to nullify, to quantify. An indelible darkness, spreading from one universe to the other, the pristine pages of a tome sullied by a piercing fountain of ink,'" he reads to you, his voice smooth and unhurried. "Guess what she's talking about?" 

"Dark matter?" 

"What? Keep your astronomy to yourself, dork. She's talking about the Puppet's heart. How sick is that?" 

You grin. It is pretty sick. 

Eddie's smile grows with yours, though his lips part when he notices something on your face. "You have-" He brings his thumb to your mouth and brushes it roughly, tugging the soft pillow of your upper lip up. 

You turn your face. "Jeez. Keep your hands to yourself, Munson." 

"Sorry," he says, not sounding very sorry. 

"You wanna read some more of your book to me?" you ask. "My eyes are tired." 

You lay down flat with one of his pillows smushed under your head and Eddie reads, sitting with his back to the headboard. "'You turn the page and find the ink has eaten into the next page, and the next. The damage is expansive, Dolly says, lifting her chin. But not limitless. Eventually, a page will turn. Eventually, the page beneath remains plain.'" 

"I thought Dolly and the Puppet loved each other," you murmur, watching his finger slide up the back of the book. 

He gives you a knowing smile. "They did." 

"Not anymore?" 

"I don't know. He's not the same anymore. He really is evil," Eddie says. "'The Puppet becomes a man of flesh and bone before her, nothing like she had remembered and yet the same. His voice, slick as oil, becomes a malfeasance of sound where before it had been her most treasured melody. And if the tome were sullied to begin with? The Puppet asks. If the darkness subsisted where I only lay my hand?" 

"They speak in riddles," you complain. 

Eddie shushes you. "'Don't act as though you didn't bring about this war, Dolly says, her voice harsh as tree bark. The Puppet draws ever closer, his wicked grin softened. A puppet once more. I did it for you, he says.'" 

You gasp so loudly it makes your throat burn. "He did not!" you whisper-shout.

Eddie chuckles, hand dropping to your shoulder. "He didn't." 

"Keep reading!" 

"'Dolly refuses to acknowledge his pleading tenor. You did not, she shouts. You created this conflict to become what you wanted to become.

"'Someone you could love. The Puppet places a frozen hand over her cheek. She hits at his chest with the brunt of her palms, hands growing limp as he murmurs. Someone you could kiss.'" 

You miss the rest of his reading, eyes slamming shut as if you'd been stuck. You catch small parts. An attempted reunion, a sword tipped in biting silver from the coldest recess of the moon. A short fight, a retreat. 

"Are you sleeping?" Eddie whispers. 

You swallow. "Almost," you whisper back. 

Eddie tosses the paperback onto his desk and pulls the covers over your shoulders and curls toward you. "You should get some rest, sweetheart. It's been a long day."

You nod and turn to him, refusing to open your eyes. "Goodnight," you say, rubbing your cheek against the brushed cotton of his pillowcase. 

"Goodnight."

Long minutes of silence. You can feel his warmth beside you like a heating pad under the sheets. You know his hand lies an inch away, if that, his fingers lax. You could stroke the length of his pinky with yours. 

As if he knows, as if he can read your mind, a fingertip reaches out to tap yours. "Are you okay?" he asks. 

You open one tired eye and lift your face enough to open the other. He looks beautiful. Hair half-dried and flat to his cheek. You reach out to push it from his face slowly. If you were any braver you'd tuck it behind his ear, scratch his scalp lightly with your nails. 

"Is it your arm?" he asks. 

You drop your hand. "'M just thinking." 

"I can't help with that," he jokes, turning his gaze to the ceiling. 

You laugh under your breath but even to yourself it sounds odd. 

"Do you think you'd ever kiss me?" you utter eventually. 

He doesn't answer for a while. Your heart races fast enough that it's all you can hear, like the wind rushing in your ears. 

"Is that what you want?" 

"I want my first kiss to be a good one." 

"And you think it would be, with me?" 

"You said to keep it for someone I actually like." 

He takes your wrist into a kind hand. Calluses slide over your skin. "I meant someone you have the hots for, babe."

Dangerous territory. Wary to admit anything else, you try to take his rejection with grace. "It's okay if you don't want to. Was just… wondering," you murmur. 

He strokes your wrist. "I'll kiss you if you want me to." 

"No, I-" You laugh, all nerves and too much blood. "I don't want a pity kiss, Eddie." 

"Who said anything about pity?" he says, voice quiet as yours had been and harbouring much less panic. 

He pulls your arm like he's encouraging you toward him and you hiss. His grip slackens. "Sorry, I should've-" 

"It aches, that's all," you say.

Understanding lightens his eyes. Honey melting into a woody brown. "Shit," he mutters, lowering his head. "I'm sorry." He presses his lips to your wrist in a small kiss. "If it's hurting you should've said."

The words come out hot. 

"It…" you drift off as he gives you another kiss. Another. 

Close-lipped, Eddie dots pecks down your arm until he reaches the crook of your elbow. He slows and stays. You take the initiative and drop your hand into his hair, stroking behind his ear like you wanted to, like you've wanted to for a while, and shiver as the tip of his nose ghosts against sensitive skin. 

He draws away, pulls up, his face much closer than you can remember it ever having been before. You try to breathe normally but the look on his face prompts breathlessness, his eyes steady, bordering impassive. His lips hint a soft bemusement. 

He raises his chin. "This okay?" 

"This," you repeat, fingers curling into his hair. 

Eddie moves in, bringing a hand to your face to guide you to one side. His lips bump into yours and you let your eyes close, overwhelmed by this new feeling. There's a tenderness to how he holds you still, worse when he pulls you in, his kiss hot and soft as water. 

He slides his fingertips under your sleeve, palm hot to the breadth of your upper arm. His grip tightens incrementally and you try not to pull his hair in response, your knee hitting his thighs as your body seeks him out. 

His lips part against yours and you both suck in a breath before he's kissing again. You try your best to follow his lead, though quickly find yourself a laughing mess as he wraps his arm around your shoulder to pull you close. 

"What's funny?" he asks. 

You honestly don't know. It's a giddy feeling to be this close, more so when he smiles back and tries to start up another round of sweet kisses, his lips pressing to yours insistently. He caresses the length of your back until you sigh, your open mouth an invitation that he sinks into. 

You scrunch the hem of his shirt in your hand when he sucks on your top lip, nonplussed.

Eddie pulls away. Your eyes open in tandem. 

You're noticeably out of breath and he isn't unaffected, his chest rising and falling almost as quickly as yours. "So," he says, inhale a struggle though he tries to hide it, "how was that? A good one?" 

"I don't know. I don't have anything to compare it to." 

"No?" he asks, already leaning in for another. 

You weave your hand into his hair and he rubs his hand down your arm until your aching wrist throbs under his fingertips, callused by metal strings and somehow impossibly soft.

"I'm sorry about your arm," he murmurs. 

You hope your hum against his lips conveys your forgiveness. 

When you've been kissed to the point of dizziness you break it to hide in the space under his chin, breathing in his new smells, his skin, his hair. The remnants of soap; a sharp citrus, mandora awash in something heady.

He pushes his arm under your chest and wraps you up. You hug him back, languid in his hold as he starts to rub your back. Broad, sweeping lines. Your shirt pulls up and he smooths it back down. 

"Don't get ahead of yourself," you joke lightly, quickly chased by a big yawn. 

"If you're tired, you can sleep," he assures you. 

"It was a good kiss." 

"Tell me all about it in the morning, okay? Sleep, pretty girl." 

You're feeling more and more tired with each passing second. Fatigue hangs heavy and his wandering hands make it worse. 

"'Nother kiss in the morning?" you ask, burrowing your face into his shoulder. 

He takes a little while to answer, turning his lips down into your temple. "Y'always get what you want, don't you?" 

With Eddie? Just about. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist

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marvel explain yourself.

MINORS DNI

NOTES: I’m wine drunk. Very drunk. That’s my explanation. So unabashedly horny they need to lock me away. Anyway I want to fuck Abby

WARNINGS: fem!reader (no pronouns, but reader has a vagina), sex (oh no), strap usage(not explicitly mentioned but we assume), Abby tops, a little dirty talk, she’s folding you up (hold ur flexible), rough sex yum

It’s so painful it’s good. Abby, fucking you, hands pressed to the backs of your thighs. Your ankles dangle on each side of her face, bobbing pathetically with each sheathe of her relentless thrusts. “Fuck, baby,” she gasps, like she can fucking feel it, each push into your tight cunt, she moans pathetically. The plastic shoves in and out of you, puncturing deep against your cervix, “Gripping me so tight, god, feel how deep I am?”

Of course you fucking do, it’s all you feel. The sweet painful nudge every time she pushes in, the way her fingers pinch against your clit like a toy that she abuses relentlessly. You sound obscene, your words don’t even sound like words, just mewls and drawled fucked out sounds that drive her deeper inside, eager to push them out.

“God, such a pretty pussy, sounds so sweet for me, doesn’t she?” She asks, you can’t answer, cause every thought is pushed out of your brain with every punishing nudge of her hips, arms hooked under your knees just to get you to make those little squeaking noises. She pushes over you then, legs folded against your tits, knees pressed to your chest, lips hovering yours but never giving in to the kiss you beg for. “Yeah, I know baby, I know, just need you to hear you cum—can you do that for me?”

As if you could hold it back. It builds inside like a fucking bomb, the tension building and building. You’re clawing at her shoulders, crying into her chest, mouthing her tits as the tension snaps—aching to taste her. You lick up her throat, hands palming her broad muscles, legs shaking up by her ears, crying out with every jolt of stimulation her stalling thrusts bring.

I am a women with simple wants

BARRY KEOGHAN as DRUIG Eternals (2021) dir. Chloé Zhao

It’s becoming a beach episode situation…..will post later

MINORS DNI

NOTES: fuck me Logan PLEASE. As always, I need him, so! Very short as always

WARNINGS: car sex, nicknames, Logan knows who you are before the deed but you don’t, getting folded in half by Logan (hope ur flexible), porn (technically) no plot?

Dofp!Logan is coming to find you the second he gets to his young selfs body. Okay, maybe not the second, he does still have to get Charles and Hank, but there’s a day in between events, where nothing happens and he’s not needed for the sake of the universe and he takes it. And when Charles and Hank ask where he’s going, he just tells them he has someone he needs to see.

Honestly it’s a little too easy to find you. And it’s just as easy to get you all folded up in the back of the Buick, his cock sheathed inside you with your heels scraping the roof, head nearly hitting the car window with each thrust. He was always too good at getting you right where he wanted. You didn’t even know each other yet, no, you and Logan don’t meet for at least five more years, but you’re younger and just a bit sluttier and you’re not exactly banging your hands on his chest after he asks to take you out back after an hour of laying it on heavy at the bar you were working at.

“Look at you, baby, so fucking pretty—mmph—and all for me, isn’t that right?” You nod quickly, skin sheening with sweat, clawing at his shoulders while you’re absolutely gushing around his cock. You might have been embarrassed putting out so easily if every word coming out of his mouth didn’t send a warm tingle down to your cunt.

Your ankles bob on either side of his head where he’s got his eyes craned down to look at where he’s pushing in and out of you, like he’s mesmerized. He pulls out half way, then pushes in half way, just to fuck with you—at least that’s what you think. You have no idea how much he’s savoring the sight of your pussy wrapping around him, how twitchy and pretty she is. He laughs when you writhe and buck beaneath him, but he’s got your hips pinned down to the seat, and god this guy is fucking strong. He growls—fucking growls—when he finally bottoms out, and he looks at you like he could absolutely eat you alive, “So perfect for me, just wanna feel good don’t you, sweetheart?”

It’s hard to answer, especially since he’s sinking over you now, bringing your legs with him, ankles on his shoulders while he’s leaning over you driving even deeper than before. The tinge of pain of being nearly entirely folded in half is lost in every thrust that knock’s repeatedly into the soft spongy spot inside you. His breath fans over your face, and you think he might kiss you but he just looks at you, and then turns his head to kiss the side of your ankle, “Sorry sweetheart,” he groans, “If I kiss you—mmh—there’s no way in hell I’m leaving ya.”

You think to ask what he means, but then he’s got a thumb on your clit and his cock is shoving impossibly deeper, and every one of your thoughts is immediately leaving your pretty little head.