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ghost-proofbaby · 1 month

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

"THE FIRST DATE"

EXTRA CONTENT - "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 7k+ → a/n: the very long awaited first date. this was requested by several people. wahoo! also, fair warning for second-hand embarrassment. i think eddie munson is the only person who drag me dancing around a bowling alley and i wouldn't smite them on the spot.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

EDDIE: What about a fancy dinner date?

YOU: boring.

YOU: and too traditional. when were you even born, Munson? the 60s???

EDDIE: Ha. Ha. I don’t see you making any worthwhile suggestions, sweetheart.

YOU: i don’t have to make any suggestions, old man. YOU’RE supposed to be wooing ME

God forbid anyone walked in on you at this moment.

You were like a high schooler, lying on your stomach with your feet kicking up into the air as you stared at the screen, happily bantering with Eddie over text. All the butterflies, all the blissful jitters, all that dopamine rush that comes with school girl crushes – every single cliche was present and was in full force as you discussed the details of your first date with him. You used to scoff (albeit with hidden longing) at all the romance movies that you truly believed had overplayed all the giddiness, but now you got it. It was disgusting, the way he had you wrapped around his finger so easily, the way he had turned you into a heart-eyed shell of the woman you once were in the matter of a week.

EDDIE: So you have a thing for older men is what you’re telling me.

YOU: i NEVER said that.

EDDIE: Didn’t have to, sweetheart. I can read between the lines.

Over the last week, since the two of you had won the bet and you had won over with insistence on him properly asking you out, Eddie had been tossing around date ideas as he tried to plan this very first occasion. The only time you had even seen him was when your entire group met up, the latest outing having been for brunch on Saturday under the guise celebrating the one week anniversary of you and Eddie surviving twenty four hours together without killing each other.

Didn’t stop him from calling and texting you. And it clearly hadn’t deterred him from losing his mind over doing right by you with this entire first date ordeal.

YOU: i don’t even have the energy to explain to you how many times you have proven to not do that in the past.

EDDIE: I’ve read between the lines in the past!

YOU: you most certainly have NOT

EDDIE: I was able to read when you wanted to kiss me that night. That’s reading between the lines.

And so the giddiness rears its head, full fledged as heat swarms your body and your cheeks ache from your smile.

YOU: i hate you

EDDIE: No, you don’t

YOU: i do. i really do.

EDDIE: You’re such a shit liar

You nearly jump out of your skin when there’s a knock on your dorm’s door, annoying and persistent as it taps out some random rhythm that must be a song of some sort. But whatever song it is, you can’t recognize it as you stand, walking over to answer.

“Did you forget your key aga-” you begin, assuming it was just your roommate. You’re shocked to see Robin and Steve standing there, “What are you guys doing here?”

“We had a study date, in case you had forgotten and not seen our hundreds of texts,” Steve huffs, quickly crossing his arms.

You hadn’t seen their texts. Most of your screen time had been a bit preoccupied with a certain metalhead.

“Oh, shit,” your face falls as you open the door wider, side-stepping and motioning for them to come in.

“Yeah,” Steve snarks as he comes right in, Robin hot on his trails and seeming in a far more pleasant mood as the boy mocks you, “Oh, shit.”

Robin stops beside you as Steve helps himself to a seat in your desk chair, “Don’t mind him. He’s just cranky because he has to get A’s on all his mid-terms to keep his 3.0.”

“I am not cranky-”

“You are!”

“Am not!”

“You so are,” Robin continues to egg him on, choosing your bed as her resting place.

Your phone bounces a bit from the way she throws herself down on the sorry excuse for a mattress, and you recall how you had yet to reply to Eddie. Fuck.

“When did we even make these plans?” you ask, genuinely confused as you shut the door. You already miss the peace and quiet of being alone, free to preen at your phone and giggle to your heart’s content at the world’s worst flirt over text.

“Saturday,” Steve groans, throwing his head back.

“It was after brunch,” Robin clarifies, lifting herself up from how she was lounging amongst your blankets, “I mean, you seemed a bit distracted when you agreed, but… We did text you about it.”

You had been distracted. Eddie had managed to quietly ask the waitress to include your tab with his so he could pay for it without your knowledge, and you’d spent the entire time torn between being upset with the boy and absolutely fawning. It was a bit pathetic, looking back at it – the fact that those were the only two options your mind had presented you with. You’d scorned him over the phone later that night, and he had only laughed. You swear you can still hear it now, having heard it several times since – a low chuckle that rattled into the caverns of your chest, that bounced amongst vines of affection and willed open blooms of adoration just a little bit wider.

Part of you was still waiting for the wilting. For the other shoe to drop, for all of what had been exposed and had been planted to vanish from your grasps. That first Monday morning, you’d even woken up worried it had all been a dream.

“I’ve been busy,” you lamely try to excuse your radio silence.

“Busier than normal?” Steve’s brows quirk up, leaning back in your chair that emits a squeak of protest, “Or have you just been busy with new friends?”

Your lips twist and your nose twitches in confusion, “New friends? What the Hell are you going on about, Harrington?”

Robin fully sits up now, watching with piqued interest.

“Eddie,” Steve gets straight to the point, his previous sour mood finally melting slightly, “You can’t honestly tell me that nothing changed after that night.”

It was something neither of you had really discussed. Steve had seen you two, knew that a lot had truly changed based off of the way you’d tossed him right into the middle of the mess there at the end, but you and Eddie had never said anything about being together. Not to your friends, and not even to each other.

“Just because I don’t want to tear his head off his shoulders anymore doesn’t mean we’re spending every waking moment together,” you force your best scowl, as if that wasn’t exactly what you had yearned for all week.

Eventually, it had to wear off. That’s what you told yourself – at some point the initial rose tones would fade less vibrant, and Eddie’s intense occupation of your mind would lessen with the hues.

“I can’t believe it, but I am siding with Stevie on this one,” Robin finally contributes, “I mean, you guys won’t even tell us what happened that night.”

“Nothing exciting,” you’re quick to lie, “Just… I don’t know. Boring stuff. Getting on each other’s nerves, sitting around on his couch,” that gets a bitter scoff from Steve that almost makes you freeze up. Damn Eddie for teasing him with the truth about the couch, “Nothing worth making a big deal over. Like I said, we just learned to… to… tolerate each other.”

Tolerate was an interesting way to put spending hours on the phone together each night, sometimes falling asleep while still on the line.

Steve still looks as though he’s recalling all of Eddie’s annoying taunts from that night while Robin only grins salaciously.

“Tolerate each other?” she mimics you, leaning forward and pressing her palms into the edge of the mattress beside her knees, “Babe, have you two even said a single mean thing to each other since that night? I think he even smiled at you on Saturday. You’re practically married with two and a half kids already.”

He had smiled at you – multiple times. And each one had struck the most delicate of daggers right into your chest, lighting you aflame under his attempted clandestine attention. Every time those big, brown eyes had met yours from across the table, the ache you’d started to hold for him had only doubled in size. By the end of that morning, when the day had technically started to bleed out into the afternoon, you were nothing more than a vessel of pining for the boy that you hadn’t even gotten the chance to brush against amongst your friends.

“Whatever,” you murmur as you reach out to snatch up your phone, “I never even understood the whole half kid thing. Like, how the fuck do you have two and a half kids?”

“I’m sure Eddie would be more than happy to show you,” Steve teases despite his still half-traumatized look.

You’re quick to reach out a hand to whack the back of his head, “Shut up. Are we gonna keep sitting here while you two try to pry something that doesn’t exist out of me, or are we going to go study?”

Steve’s grumpy mood returns as he rubs the back of his head, him and Robin standing in sync to exit the room.

But before the three of you exit the dorm, you check your phone one last time, having to bite down on that girlish grin when you see two new text message notifications.

EDDIE: It’s official. I’m a genius.

EDDIE: Say, are you free tomorrow night?

—

Tomorrow night couldn’t come fast enough. A shift at your job, one too many hours spent sitting through lectures, ensuring a night of studying with Steve and Robin — all petty distractions, roadblocks on your path to the most highly anticipated first date of your life. Eddie wouldn’t even entertain you with details, only telling you to dress fairly comfortably and to put on your best game face.

And you did. To some extent, you really did.

But you’d finished getting ready hours in advance, something you blamed on nerves, and having that much time to kill with such nerves was dangerous.

Simple makeup turned a bit more extravagant, you had tried on nearly every outfit in your possession, you’d even eyed your hair curler on more than one occasion.

Comfortable. What the Hell was that even supposed to mean?

Your only solution had been to text the man of the hour himself, something to busy your thumbs instead of twiddling them or involving them in taking your date night look several steps over just comfortable.

YOU: okay, so. can you define ‘dressing comfortably’?

EDDIE: According to Google, “dressing in a way that makes you feel at ease in your body” :)

YOU: fuck off. you know that’s not what i meant.

Still no clues. He wasn’t caving so easily to your pestering. You should have known better, considering he’d been professionally dodging any questions or inquiries you had regarding the date for the last twenty four hours.

EDDIE: Don’t overthink it, sweetheart.

That certainly didn’t help. Not even in the slightest.

You don’t even reply to his text, already back to pacing your dorm before you finally cave to an impulsive decision you’d been grappling with for hours now.

There was a newish, sporty skirt in the bottom of your drawers. It was comfortable, it had built-in shorts, and it looked damn good on you. The hem fell right around mid-thigh and always flared in an overly satisfying fashion when you’d spin while wearing it. The material of the pleats was nearly impossible to wrinkle. It wasn’t overly soft against your palms as you still nervously smoothed it down once you’d shimmied it on, but you still repeated the motion in hopes of soothing some of your nerves.

You’re sure it’s the wrong option until Eddie sees you in it.

He texts when he’s on his way and you find yourself bounding outside to wait for him far too early to be reasonable. He hadn’t even arrived until after your back had nearly become one with the brick exterior of the dorm building's front wall, leaning into the scratch of the clay on your shoulder blade a welcome distraction until you heard the roar of a motorcycle engine.

You nearly grow dizzy from the sudden rush of nerves.

This is really happening. You’re about to go on a date with Eddie, the first time of what you hope will be many to come.

“Took you long enough, Munson,” you snark loud enough for him to hear as he clicks the Yamaha’s kickstand into place right by the vibrant red curb. There’s a sign not even a full foot away from where he’s standing that clearly spells out NO PARKING.

Oh.

If you hadn’t already been riddled with nerves, your knees would have gone weak at the sight of him.

Since when is that dressing casual and comfortable?

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I keep you waiting?” he shoots right back as he lifts the helmet off his head, and something inside of you clenched tightly at the sight with no plans to unwind any time soon.

Dark wash jeans plaster his legs, heavy combat boots smacking against the pavement as he walks to meet you halfway. The black shirt he’s donning isn’t extravagant, but something in the way that t-shirt material stretches across his chest has you burning from the inside out. He’s even gone so far as to tuck the shirt into the jeans, his black leather belt on show as he hugs the helmet below his bicep. And his normal leather jacket — you don’t believe you’ve ever seen it look better, ever seen it fit his shoulders so snugly. He’s dressed to perfectly match the all black bike, the image of a bad boy straight out of every cheesy movie you’d ever seen.

The only thing that breaks the illusion is the boyish grin pulling the arrival of his dimples along with it as he watches you push off the wall. His eyes are sparkling as you approach him, a constellation of hope and new beginnings twinkling right before you.

He’s not sorry that you waited on him. Not in the slightest. Especially when those starry eyes travel over your appearance.

You have to force yourself to tsk, because otherwise you might end up just another pile of ash for the poor landscapers to sweep up, “Haven't you heard it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?”

You stop in your steps just far enough to catch the way his eyes take you in. Drinking slowly. Following the trace of the just fancy enough tank top that you’d chosen to balance the skirt. Lingering on the plush of your inner thighs, barely peeking out the bottom of your chosen outfit for the night.

You almost start to feel self conscious until he lets out a little sigh, nearly a whimper as his eyes trail back up to find yours.

“I’m sure I have,” he chokes out, composure momentarily vanished as you distract him so easily, “But aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“I could say the same about you.”

You’re like a shark. If you stop swimming in the upstream flirtations, you’ll drown instantaneously in his big brown eyes.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you swear you see a hint of a blush across the highs of his cheek bones and sides of his neck as he holds out the helmet for you, “At least with me, it will.”

“Even the top secret location of this date?” you ask as you take the helmet, considering putting up a fight. You still hated him not wearing one for your expense, and you weren’t exactly eager for any sort of helmet hair, “Do I have to wear-“

He knows the end of your sentence before you even finish, “Yes. No exceptions; you have to wear it every time you ride.”

“Every time?”

“It’s for safety.”

“Isn’t it sort of unsafe for you to go without one?”

“You’re wearing the helmet,” he sighs, nose twitching with indignation as he holds staunchly onto the position, “And to answer your other question, no. I guess flattery will get you almost everywhere, but it’s a surprise.”

You fiddle with the chin straps, looking down as you feel his gaze burning the top of your head from this angle, “Fine. But we really should just get me my own helmet. You need to wear one, too. And…” you look back up, pausing before you properly put on the piece of safety equipment, “It’s a little oversized. You know, considering it was meant to fit your big head first.”

He narrows his eyes, still lit up with a sort of playfulness you haven’t grown accustomed to being on the receiving end of.

You like him quite a bit more than you bargained for. A lot more than five hundred dollars, or twenty four hours, ever would have summarized.

“We can go helmet shopping another day.”

We. Not just him, not just you. But you and him. A unit. A couple.

“It’s a date,” you whisper just before you slide on the helmet. You completely miss the wildfire that the ghost of a blush has finally become. You completely miss the way that your talk of you two together, you two as a couple with a future, affects him just as his has an effect on you.

Helmet hair is worth it, you decide, once you’ve saddled onto the bike behind him and he revs up the engine once more. You’re not as shy as you had been on that fateful night the week before, quick to wrap your arms around his middle and let your chest press hard against his back. The leather crinkles against the contact, the heat of him radiating, and you think you could spend forever like that.

You’re almost upset that you can’t smell his cologne through the helmet. That once terrible scent of boy.

Every curve and every slow stop is another excuse to cling to him tighter, every red light a reason for him to turn his head and catch a glimpse of you with a small grin that never once falters. You swear at one of the lights, when he revs his engine in a particularly rowdy fashion right as the light turns green and takes off particularly fast, you can hear his laughter over the loud wind mingling with the roaring engine. You know you can feel it, vibrating in his chest right along with your own that gets lost in the chaos of the unusually busy Tuesday night street.

When he pulls into the parking lot behind the older building, you catch sight of the neon sign out front and find yourself laughing again.

“Bowling?” you question, yanking the helmet off less than gracefully as he stands off the bike you’d just swung yourself off of, “You’re taking me bowling?”

He takes the helmet from you, suddenly looking a bit shy as he averts his gaze, “Not just any bowling. It’s… It’s the coolest bowling alley you will ever go on a first date at.”

“You say that to every girl you bring here?”

You’re just teasing him, trying to poke fun rather than succumb to all the fluttering that bruises your inner chest and stomach. But then he has to ruin your fun, strike a match and set you aflame so adroitly.

“Only the prettiest ones.”

You should continue the banter, challenge him on just who else fell into that category, but you can’t. It’s in that glimmer of his eyes and the indent of his dimples, the way he looks at you as he slowly rises and somehow softens his gaze all while keeping a threat of a bite beneath the tone. His eyes tell you that you are, without a doubt, the prettiest girl he’s referring to. That in this moment, you begin and you end his world, and not even the commotion of traffic or nip in the air that creeps up as the summer sun sets can deter his attention being set solely on you.

But his tone suggests something far more dangerous. He says it like you’re a prey, an unattainable catch that he’ll be chasing for the entire night. A wicked growl to that voice you’ve been falling asleep to over the phone far more than you care to admit in just a short week.

He says it like he’s going to ruin you. As if he hasn’t already injected himself into your veins, as if he isn’t the gasoline drowning and raging the burn within you.

But he keeps up the gentleman persona in the short walk up to the door of the establishment. Holds out his hand for yours to fit perfectly into, guides you to the inner sidewalk as cars fly past and the only thing between you and them is him.

The hunt is on from the moment he opens that door for you.

“Ever the gentleman,” you muse, voice hardly above a whisper as you brush past him and finally catch that smell of boy.

You think you’d drown in his cologne now if he gave you the chance. Bury your face in his chest, wrap your arms around him and press any inch of your own bare skin to his.

“Always,” it would have been a weak response if he’d only said it and nodded his head, but he takes it a step further. Right as you pass him, entering the brisk AC, his hand ghosts over the expanse of your lower back. Fingertips nimbly brushing right above the band of that skirt, grazing your tank top just hard enough for you to feel it and shiver.

It doesn’t stop there. The back and forth, the chase, the hunt.

The way he makes sure your knuckles brush his as he hands you your shoes, even more brushes of his palm flat against your lower back repetitively, the way he insists on a heavier ball that makes his arms strain and muscles display. Over the chatter from the bowling alley’s fairly nice bar and the music trickling out of the overhead speakers, you’re sure that your heartbeat has joined the ranks of audible noises to echo the nice haunt. You’re positive he can hear every thump, can pinpoint the exact moments that poor aching muscle inside your chest begins to race.

You go for a smaller weighted ball. You don’t think you could handle anything heavier with your current case of weak knees.

“Only an eight pounder?” Eddie tuts at you as you approach your designated lane again, “Come on, sweetheart. You can do better than that.”

No, I can’t. Your fault, really.

“I have weak arms,” you try to defend yourself as you rotate the red ball in your hands.

His favorite color. It hadn’t been intentional, but the swirling shades of stark scarlet and deep maroons is a nice touch.

“Poor baby,” he teases, leaning into you as you deposit the ball right behind his own ball on the track where it already rests.

A twelve pounder. A smoky quartz design, black base swirling with misty white and gold accents. Far prettier than yours by a landslide.

And fitting for the pretty boy you’re faced with when you turn to watch him shedding his leather jacket onto the bench a few steps away.

“Not all of us are some big, strong macho man,” you scowl insincerely, moving to sit beside him and follow his lead in switching out shoes, “I’m betting now that by halfway through the game, you’ll be caving and begging to use my ball, Munson.”

You’re looking down as you casually say it, one shoe already half off and unaware of just how close he had gotten until his hand reaches over. Not even a second later, he has your chin pinched between his fingers, gentle as it guides you and forces you to look at him, “Careful. Bets seem to be awfully dangerous when it comes to the two of us.”

Damn him. Damn him, damn him, damn him.

The graze of those fingers against your jaw leaves a trail of ash, burning that lingers and thrums beneath your skin, heart officially skipping beats rather than merely speeding up. You’re coming to realize that when it comes to keeping up with Eddie Munson in his element, in all his charm and flirtatious banter, you’re a bit hopeless.

He has you trapped under his thumb — metaphorically and literally.

“Are you always this flirtatious with all your dates?” you spit out against your better judgment.

Why do I keep bringing up his previous flames? Do I really care? Do I really want to put myself through the torture of hearing about all of the girls, or guys, he’s wooed before me?

The same glittering eyes, the same hidden smirk from earlier. “Only the prettiest ones.”

“You keep saying that,” you mumble, chin pressing into his fingertips against their hold, “Just how many pretty dates have you had?”

The pride softens in an instant. His gaze is less sharp, grin less predatory as he raises his eyebrows.

“Does it really matter?”

You can’t help it. Your mind races ahead of you before you can stop it; you’re plagued in an instant with images of how many dates, how many other people he had indulged in over the year you two had wasted hating each other. You try to recall overhearing him describe any of those dates, try to remember if Nancy ever mentioned Eddie passing up one of the hangouts for a romantic endeavor.

You come up empty handed, but it doesn’t stop the overthinking.

“I guess not,” you feebly answer, unable to tear your eyes from him.

I guess not is really code for it matters so much more than I care to admit. An impossible riddle you can’t even expect him to pick up on.

His hand falls from your chin and finds home on your bare knee, warm palm swallowing it up. He gives it a squeeze, and you wonder for a moment if maybe he can read your secretive language. Maybe he’s seeing right through your overconfident front, maybe he has felt every racing of your pulse.

Maybe, he’s as nervous as you are.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t think you can bear another moment of this new intimacy. It had been easier when the two of you were on a ticking clock, confined to his apartment and parameters of a bet that never really mattered. Vulnerability had less of an edge when you could yearn and pine to see it flourish in the real world — but now, here it was, twisting away within you both a week later and pricking away as the stakes at hand come to light.

“Are you ready for me to absolutely demolish your ass at this game?” you joke.

“Demolish me? That’s some big talk for someone using an eight pound ball, babe.”

“It’s not about how much you’re packing, pretty boy,” you scoff, “Just that you know how to use it.”

He smiles slowly, but the quick squeeze of his hand tells you the vulnerability is here to stay. He feels that cutting edge too, and he’s not shying away.

He leans right into it, just as he does your personal space, “Bring it on.”

—

“You’re cheating!”

“I’m not!”

“You are! Who the fuck gets three strikes in a row?”

Eddie strolls back towards you, self-satisfied smirk curling his lips and his hips swaying with arrogance as you continue to pout at his sudden show of sportsmanship, “I believe the answer is me, sweetheart. Wanna see me make it four?”

“I hope you just jinxed yourself,” you scowl as you hop up off the couch and Eddie swaggers right past you, hardly affected by the palm you smack into the center of his chest for good measure, “I hope you roll nothing but gutter balls the rest of the game, you prick.”

“Like you have been?”

“Burn in Hell.”

Eddie’s cackle echoes through the fairly busy alley. It wasn’t overwhelming, the lanes of either side of yours staying empty, the only other groups several ways down. So far, the date has been good. Even if Eddie was wiping the floor with your severe lack of skill.

Both of you had opted for Cokes rather than alcohol, Eddie had ordered some sort of platter with onion rings and mozzarella sticks that the two of you had easily been devouring between turns. Playful banter had been kept up easier than breathing, barking words without bite being snapped back and forth loud enough for the entire establishment to hear the two of you being exceptionally childish.

At some point, your nerves had melted. And you didn’t even need a lick of alcohol in your system for it to happen.

“Try to aim for the pins this time,” Eddie continues to taunt you from where he’s spread out on the brown faux leather bench you’d been taking turns warming the seat of.

Your fingers slide into the holes of your ball with ease, courtesy of the grease from all your snacking, “Try shutting the fuck up.”

More of his laughter sounds off, and you nearly trip on your walk up to the markings on the linoleum wood flooring. It’s a nice sound; a beautiful response to words that could easily read identical to how the two of you used to fight. But these aren’t fighting words, they’re words passed between two… two… friends?

Is that how you should continue to classify this? Were you and Eddie really still just friends?

The sound of your ball stuttering in hops across the beginnings of the lane replaces his laughter

No. Easy question – there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that the two of you were definitely not friends. Not enemies, not friends – something different and something unspoken. And for the remainder of this date, you could live with that.

Eddie sucks in an audible breath, letting the air whistle between his teeth as your ball veers at the last second and misses the pins entirely. Again.

“Th-”

“Don’t,” you interrupt him, spinning on your heel and holding up a warning finger. It’s harder to hold in your own grin when Eddie’s already smiling into his fist, leaning his elbows onto his thighs as his big eyes peer at you, clearly amused, “Don’t say a word.”

His knuckles dig further into his mouth.

“I meant to do that.”

His eyebrows shoot up, still not speaking.

“It takes real talent to avoid pins like that.”

He leans over a bit further, and you swear you hear him emit a snort from behind that damn fist.

You open your mouth to continue with the bit when the clattering of your ball returning to the ball rack comes from behind you. Eddie only shrugs cheekily as he finally drops his fist to grab for a mozzarella stick, his smile contained but those damn dimples still flashing you brilliantly.

Without taking your eyes off him, you hold up a warning finger for emphasis once more, trying to bite down any signs of your own amusement as you take a few steps back in the direction of the rack and repeat yourself, “I meant to do that.”

“Sure you did,” he muses before taking a bite of the mozzarella stick smothered in marinara sauce.

“I did.”

“I believe you.”

“I-”

It seems the Universe is in the business of interrupting you two. As if it seems all that hope and potential flourishing in the space between you two and decides that simply won’t do. As if it’s too much.

Maybe it is. But maybe, just maybe, you’re enjoying too much.

Suddenly, before you can even finish your sentence or grab for your ball, the lights of the alley have dimmed. A few spotlights over the alleys themselves light up, erratically waving patches of light over the shining floor as the music that had been playing overhead cuts out to be replaced with some poor employee’s voice.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen-” you and Eddie share a confused glance, “-The time is officially ten o’clock, meaning nineties night has officially begun! Have fun, and enjoy yourselves as we throw you back to the decade of Nirvana and Beanie Babies for the rest of the night with these straight jams.”

Your face scrunches up in a comical cringe before the buzzing static of the speaker can even cut out and the beginning lines of Say My Name by Destiny’s Child begins to play.

You aren’t entirely sure of how it happens. Maybe it’s all the playfulness in there, in all that electric teasing at the tip of Eddie’s tongue and all that hopelessness bubbling up in your chest as it dawns on you of the fact you were finally on a proper date with Eddie. Maybe it’s simply a good night for you to continue to make a fool of yourself, and Eddie sees it as a chance he’ll always be right there with you, prepared to make a scene as he follows your lead.

He stands up to approach you where you’re still rooted beside the rack, matching your own grin that blooms genuinely at the sound of the song.

It was one of your favorite’s. A small fact about yourself you don’t think you’ve ever told Eddie – that you can remember.

It’s small, at first. Just mouthing along to the first verse as he moves towards you, recognizing that excitement lighting up in you, shimmying his shoulders ever so slightly. He looks like an idiot – he’s absolutely your idiot.

“Did you know it was nineties night?” you mumble as he gets closer, shaking your head slightly.

“Stevie might have mentioned something about you enjoying nineties nostalgia,” he drawls, still taking sure steps towards you.

“Did you ask him for advice for our first date, Eddie?”

“No,” he scoffs quickly, finally close enough to grab you gently by your hips. He’s nowhere near manhandling you, but it’s still reminding you of the game, of the hunt, at play. You’re his prey and he’s officially making his move. Carelessly, nonchalantly. “He mentioned it ages ago. When they were trying to convince me you weren’t all bad.”

Your smile widens, “Was this around the time I threw a glass at your head, by chance?”

“Maybe.”

The dulcet instrumental of the song continues on overhead, beginning to pick up in beat, making you nod your head along as Eddie finally starts to tug you closer.

You’re in public, and you both should know better than to make absolute fools of yourselves, but it doesn’t seem to matter when all you can really see is him.

Your friends had also spent ages trying to convince you that Eddie wasn’t all bad, but you’d always known that much. You’d seen glimpses of the good in him from that very first night. When he’d made you feel welcome, when he’d given you a life-preserver to cling to when you’d felt most out of your element. You knew that Eddie Munson was one of those people who had a hardwired habit of trying to make people feel welcome.

Even in a room full of people, when you’d be non-stop embarrassing yourself endlessly.

All his jests had been further proof, but when he sees your rock on your heels as you enjoy the music, he takes it a step further. He grabs one of your hands with his free one, keeping a hold of your waist, encouraging all your giddiness over the song. Every single person in the establishment could be staring at the two of you – you didn’t care.

When he starts dramatically mouth along to the chorus of the song, swinging you around slightly, it takes very little provocation for you to join in with him.

You both could’ve taken a step further, and properly sang along in the most obnoxious voices possible, but you don’t. There’s still the slightest blanket of security there as Eddie keeps the antics mostly silent, reserving his dramatic reenactments of vocal runs for your eyes only. Even yanking your hand up close to his mouth, as though it was a microphone, as he swings you around again. You quickly become a giggling disarray, hardly able to keep up your own footing, eyes squinting with joy and what must be the messiest and ugliest smile possible showing off all your teeth. The type of smile and laughter you’d normally try to hide on instinct. The kind of smile you cover up.

But you can’t, because Eddie is keeping his sturdy grip on your hands with his own, and he’s drinking in every second of your joy. He’s vibrant as he watches the way he’s entertaining you. Shamelessly staring, making his antics falter.

“Baby, say my name,” he purposefully sings along dramatically, quietly but terribly off-key.

You can’t help but let out a snort, “Eddie, you’re an idiot.”

He ignores you, and continues to give you your own private concert, switching rapidly between singing the main song and the backup vocals, which only makes your stomach further ache with laughter.

This is what you’d been yearning for the last year. This silly side of him, an absolute fool who couldn’t care less about the stares of others.

The seductive side of him was enticing. The honest version of him nice. But this side of him? Carefree, rowdy, indiscreet? It may be your favorite yet.

Only the sound of a nearby teen couple mocking you two break the moment, just as you’ve begun to jokingly whisper-sing back into Eddie’s pretend microphone made of your joined fists. They make what must be vomiting noises, and you catch the tail end of one of them jokingly poking a finger towards their outstretched tongue as you finally sigh deeply.

You should probably feel embarrassed. Later on, when you find yourself in bed later tonight and attempt to find some rest, you’ll probably ruminate and burn yourself alive with all the embarrassment. But not right now; not with your boy still in front of you, smiling just as desperately wide as you were.

His dimples would probably consume him if you let him go on any longer.

“Eddie,” you choke out through residual laughter, tugging your hands free as the song starts to fade out. You make no move to remove yourself from him, though. Your arms find home around his shoulders, hands splayed just below the nape of his neck, “People are staring.”

“Good,” he snipes back, finally dropping the act but not the glee, “Probably entranced by how pretty you look right now.”

“Pretty? I probably look like a loser. They’re probably already engraving a trophy for world’s ugliest smile-”

“Oh, don’t do that,” his forehead falls against yours, rolling his eyes, “Shut up and take the compliment. I love your smile.”

There’s something unspoken there. He loves your smile, yes, but he’s also been denied of it for a very long year. It’s the first step of making it up to you, making up for lost time.

Making a fool out of himself, just to see that goddamn smile.

With your arms around his neck, his forehead pressed against yours and the tip of his nose bumping yours, the game of bowling is all but forgotten. Even the teens, still side-eyeing the two of you, can be pushed aside in your mind.

All your insecurities of the night that have crept in the shadows become insignificant. You don’t care how many dates Eddie has been on before you, you don’t care that you’ve clearly become a prey caught in his web. You don’t even care about the way you’re losing.

It’s the perfect first date. When one of his hands wander, playing with the hem of your skirt, knuckles and rings brushing against bare skin, it’s perfect.

“Hey,” you whisper, “I’ve got a question.”

“I have an answer.”

“You sound very sure there, big guy.”

“I am sure,” he pulls his face away just a bit, but his gentle touch against your thigh lings. The other hand stays warm against your lower back, keeping you pressed up against him, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

Not enemies, not friends – something different and something unspoken.

Hearing him say it out-loud will still be nice, though.

“Does this mean we’re official?” you breathe out, trying to cling to all your bravery and not let it slip away, “Like – God, I sound like a high schooler right now – does this mean we’re… you know…”

“Dating?” he’s grinning, unable to hide his giddiness.

“Yeah. Dating.”

The hand tracing circles on your exposed outer thigh rises up to your cheek, brushing along it as he tucks a bit of your hair back. You swear you see it shaking out of the corner of your eye.

“I sure would like to be,” it was shaking. You know it surely, because his voice is as well. Vulnerable and honest, just how you like him, “We don’t have to tell the others, we can take it slow, but-”

“But we’re dating.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement – an affirmation. You and Eddie Munson, the man you swore you hated just over a week ago, were dating.

He only nods, and you consider the way that his dimples might just swallow you whole instead of him.

Not enemies, not friends – lovers. It has quite the nice ring to it.

“Well, in that case,” you finally pull away, dropping your arms slowly and letting your fingers catch on the chain of the necklace he currently wears. A red guitar pick, something you’ll surely learn the story behind soon enough. “Better go and roll that fourth strike, boyfriend.”

His head rolls back, and a joking groan falls from his lips as his neck stretches and nearly distracts you momentarily, “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re making fun of me, you little shit.”

Another laugh falls from your lips as you step around him, quirking an eyebrow. Perfect first date, indeed.

“Get used to it, Munson.”

“I plan to, Sweetheart.”

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

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#ghost's stories #beyond the hours #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #their love language is just being mean to each other i'll be honest #i've been nervous about posting extra content about them for a while but save the leaves #i might revamp the masterlist #also side note but i also think reader's outfit would totally get a scolding solely because that is not safe attire for riding on a bike #eddie should have shoved her into his jacket and scowled about it but he's just easily distracted by how pretty he finds her

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spookykoolkat · 8 months

Text

kinktober | your woman - e.m.

kinktober day four - taped

pairing: eddie munson x plus size!reader

wc: 5.48k

summary: your little friends with benefits deal with eddie was more than you first intended. when eddie asks you if you'd be okay if he recorded the next time you guys hooked up, you were all in. but, you didn't think he'd end up with his phone camera recording himself asking you to be his girl. especially not in a guest room at robin's annual halloween party.

warnings: 18+ ONLY!, minors are never welcomed. jealous!reader, making a sex tape, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, raw penetration (p in v), *wrap it up fr tho.*, pet names, eddie being eddie

reblogs, comments and likes are so very much appreciated i hope everyone is enjoying this!

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EDDIE WAS ALWAYS INSATIABLE. in every way, of course. everything he wanted, he begged for. at least from you.

it wasn't like you two were a thing officially, it started in high school when the two of you were graduating. he came up to you at a party, being eddie's usual self and flirting with you. though you weren’t receptive at first, it didn’t mean you never would be.

so he kept trying, even after high school the fall after you two graduated, he found you at another party. neither of you went to college, but had mutual friends in college. so, that night you went to meet up with robin, he cornered you.

and also that night, started a year long relationship that had no title, no expectations. and even though you weren’t sleeping with anyone else, and he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else, you had a territorial problem.

so when eddie brought the subject up for the first time, you were all in. he didn’t even have to beg you, he just asked and you told him he could any time. truthfully, you’d do anything he wanted to do.

he wanted to make a tape with you, but in general wanted to record you while he fucked you.

“do you think, i don’t know, would you be okay if i recorded you during sex?” he asked, abashedly. eddie didn’t know if he even had the right to ask. he didn’t even know what the two of you really were.

“you want to record me while you fuck me?” you asked, making sure that this is what you were hearing.

“i do.” he smiled, nervously and excitedly when he noticed you didn’t immediately shut it down.

“okay.” you smiled. he just swallowed, smiling and leaned over to kiss you.

it’d been a week since then, and when eddie finally saw you again it was the night of robin’s infamous halloween party she threw every year. the concept of recording you taking him in every way had been plaguing his mine, but tried to act completely normal at the same time.

which he managed. but he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

to get into robin’s party, you had to wear a costume and of course eddie was excited about this. you on the other hand were a little dreadful.

“is this a kids party or what?” you mumbled as you adjusted your costume.

you chose to go as carrie. a long pink rose silk dress covered your body and hugged your curves softly, of course drenched in fake blood from head to toe with a prom queen crown sitting on your head. eddie had the pleasure of watching you douse yourself in said blood not even a few minutes ago, right after you pulled the pretty dress over your full figure.

of course you forgot to mention that when you weren’t wearing a bra that night and just so happened to step out just in your panties to get ready, he had to be peeled off of you just so you could get ready.

another thing about eddie, he was a little obsessed with you.

“you hate fun,” eddie tsked and adjusted his hair to be even more frizzy. of course eddie decided to go as eddie van halen, which you told him was maybe too literal.

“so what do you think of my costume?” eddie gleamed and you turned from the mirror to look at him.

“you look like you did yesterday. you literally just look like yourself.” you deadpanned and he pouted. he was wearing a jean vest with no shirt underneath, brown leather skinny jeans and a bandana around his neck. you had to help him tease his hair to get it like the picture he showed you, but over all he just looked him himself but times ten.

“okay, but do i look hot? like, would you fuck me right now?” he asked and grabbed his guitar pick just to hold.

“you’re gonna bring the guitar pick but not the actual guitar?” you said nodding to his wall, the dark red abstract guitar collecting dust.

“oh, she’s not going anywhere tonight.” he replied and you shook your head.

“but yes, eddie you look hot and i would fuck you right now. if we wouldn’t be any later than we already are, come on let's go,”

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robin greeted you at the door of her new townhouse, excited for her housewarming party to turn into a halloween party.

“i thought couples usually match costumes.” robin teased as she pulled you away from eddie.

“we’re not a couple,” you said bitterly as she pushed past people drinking, smoking and dancing together under the blacklight and into the hospital lit kitchen.

“you guys have come to every single one of my parties, together. you guys leave every single one of my parties, together. what do you call that?” she suggested over the loud music.

while she bickered you scanned over the house, the spacey living room that led into an archway to the kitchen. on the kitchen island were large bottles of alcohol pushed together in the middle of the marble, ranging from vodka to rum to tequila.

“we’re friends.”

your hand went to grab the bottle of pink whitney, grabbing a little shot glass and pouring yourself one to the rim. robin grabbed one with a scoff and you poured her one, setting the bottle down and facing each other.

“to friends,” she said smugly. you just rolled your eyes.

“to friends,”

it didn’t take long for you to lose eddie at the party, as per usual. it’s always how it went, you and he would split up and hardly look each other's way, just to text each other when the other wants to leave and meet outside.

but today you were especially needy, and after roughly three cups of mixed drinks and many many shots, you rip away from robin and nancy to find him. it was dark, smokey and you were in need for something of eddie. weed, his hands, his voice.

you found him of course, but not like you expected. part of you expected him to be sitting in a corner with his friends smoking a blunt, which he was, but instead of just his friends he was the only one with a girl on his lap.

now he told you that he wouldn’t mess around with anyone but you especially if he thought about wanting to go bare with you, but you didn’t believe him.

the music was thumping and the alcohol made you feel a little better in terms of confidence, especially being in a silk dress with no bra and skimpy panties so there wasn’t a panty line. you felt sexy, covered in blood with your hair down and as you came into his view, eddie took a drag of his blunt and looked you up and down.

his friends greeted you with enthusiasm, happy to see you again after being out of their company for so long. another thing was, regardless of who you were to eddie, his friends still loved you.

“hellooo,” you dragged but kept your eyes on eddie, and not the thin girl making her spot in eddie’s lap.

“can i have a hit?” you kindly asked eddie, and the girl looked at you with an awkward smile.

“eddie’s a little busy right now, maybe you guys can smoke later?” the girl suggested and you looked at her, then looked at eddie.

you weren’t expecting him to say anything. but a part of you wanted him to. you wanted him to feel the need to tell her that you were the one he was taking home that night, but he didn’t.

“is that right eddie?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you looked between the two.

“we were just, uh, kinda talking?”

you pinched your lips into a thin line and nodded, turning to one of his friends. his friends on the other hand were watching the interaction, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for you to curse eddie out.

you could see him gulp before you turned to one of his friends.

“can i buy any from one of you?” you asked, ignoring eddie completely and watched as one guy you really didn’t know the name of pulled out his fanny pack.

“how much?” he asked and you walked to stand in front of him where he sat on a couch, and you sat knee to knee with him on the coffee table that held empty bottles and ash trays.

“mm, just enough for a joint.” you smiled. you could feel eddie’s eyes on you, burning into the side of your figure but you didn’t acknowledge him. why would you?

you were used to being single, textbook single. single, nonetheless. you were quick to leave when things got stupid between you and eddie, not caring and not thinking twice. eddie knew that. he’d been on the shit end of the stick when he fucked up one too many times. being ignored by you, blocked and never putting up a fight because it was never worth it to you.

he wasn’t going to ruin your night. not when the day was going so well, with him or not.

you watched his friend bag up the weed, and even give you a cigar wrap to roll it with. you go to take out the money you slipped in the cup of the dress that held your heavy breasts together, but he stops you.

“pretty girls don’t need to pay, it’s on me.” he smiled, and you blushed. he was cute, not compared to eddie but definitely your type.

“well,” you said as you took the baggie and the cigar packet and stood up in front of him, looking down, “come find me later n’ maybe i can give you something to say thank you?”

at this point, eddie was non-existent. you were focused on the man with black locs that were in slight waves, and stubble on his jaw.

“actually,” you paused and sat back down. “do you think you can roll this for me?”

eddie was fuming. the girl on his lap held his interest no longer, and his eyes were bored into the natural flow of your interaction with his buddy danny. you seemed genuinely interested, serious about wanting to give him a thank you gift.

he watched as danny took the baggie and started to roll for you, grinding the weed and putting it into the wrap, all while you watched. not once looking his way. soon, danny sealed the blunt and actually had the nerve to put the blunt between your lips and spark it himself.

you inhaled, exhaled the smoke in danny’s face and leaned in close, close enough to smell the tequila on his lips, “thank you.”

you got up with the blunt between your fingers and left, walking away back to the kitchen where nancy and robin resided. they were laughing in the corner as they passed a bottle between each other, and when you got closer they got excited and hugged you.

“you got weed from eddie?” robin asked as she handed you the bottle and you handed her the blunt.

“nope.” you smiled and took a swig, having robin pass the blunt back to you. she looked at you quizzically.

“one of his friends. actually i’m going to need a ride home, eddie’s probably taking someone else home tonight.” you said nonchalantly, huffing and puffing on the blunt until the mix of tobacco and weed burned your lungs.

you didn’t even get to take another swing of the bottle before the girls’ eyes are looking up a little, and you feel a tug on your arm that yanks you back. you turn with the blunt between your lips and eyebrows pinched.

“are you fucking crazy?” eddie gritted, the grip on your arm only tightening when you breathe in the smoke and taking the blunt from between your lips with your other hand.

“can you fucking let me go?” you snarled, ripping your arm from his grasp and walking backwards.

“what’s your issue?” he asks, and you pass the blunt to robin before you step closer to him.

“go fuck her eddie. why are you bothering me when you have a really really pretty girl on your lap? weren’t you just, uh, kinda talking?” you mocked, lowering your voice to match his. no one was paying attention to you, not even robin or nancy could hear you. instead they just moved further aside.

he just grabs you again, dragging you away from the kitchen and up the stairs to the first room he sees, which just so happened to be a guest room. he yanked you inside and locked the door, letting the only light shine being from outside and the little lamp on the bedside table.

“you know i only take you home every night right? we leave every place we go to together, together. even if we don’t go together— you’re always back in my bed. you know i choose you.” he tried, but you weren’t having it.

you were already irritated, the audacity for him to make you feel the way he did when he didn’t shoo the girl off immediately.

“whatever, i don’t care. i’m not your fucking girlfriend so who cares? do whatever you want. i’m not arguing with you at a party. i’m supposed to be getting drunk, not standing here with you.” you said and tried to walk past him, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you in front of him.

“you want to be my girlfriend, baby?” he asked you as his breath fanned on your face.

you smiled sweetly. “no.” you crossed your arms over your chest and moved your head to the side.

“if i wanted a boyfriend, i’d probably choose the one who gave me free weed, not the one brushing me off for another girl.”

he just chuckled darkly, grabbing you by your hips and leading you to hit the edge of the bed with the back of your knees. “ i think you’re lying. you don’t want him, sweet girl. i know you want me. why else would you be trying to make me jealous?”

“i’m going home eddie,” you tried as he pushed you back by your shoulders so you’d land on the bed. you just propped yourself up on your elbows and watched him as he pulled his phone out and threw it beside you.

he crawled over you, lifting your dress by skimming his fingers up your leg and under the fabric to hike it up over your hip.

“if i asked you to be my girlfriend, would you say yes?” he asked, watching the dress pool around the fat of your hips, revealing the lacy red underwear you had on underneath.

you huffed, the cold air hitting your thighs when a breeze came in through the window. “no.”

he sat straight up on his knees, still straddling you but now unbuttoning the leather jeans to slide them down to his knees.

“mmm,” he hummed as his cock strained against his briefs, palming himself over while you watched him. your mouth was salivating already, forgetting how you ended up here almost bare to him, but not questioning it. “i think you’re wrong. i think you would say yes,”

he grabbed the string of your underwear and pulled it down your thighs, letting them fall as you wiggled your feet to drop them from your ankles.

“maybe we should record this for evidence, just so you can watch it back and see why i think,” he paused and smiled, “why i know, you’d say yes.” he was smug, confident, and had you wrapped around his finger.

you knew your jealousy maybe might’ve been misplaced, projecting about the fact that you two weren’t official and he’d never bothered to ask you either. you weren’t really allowed to feel this way when he wasn’t yours.

it just always felt like no matter what he did to piss you off or make you cry, you’d always be his.

he grabbed the phone, messing with the screen until the flash came on and stayed on. he never showed your face, only pointing the camera between your thick thighs when he shuffled downwards to spread your legs.

“look at you,” he hummed, getting closer to your heat when he spread your lips, the flash making your slick glisten for him. you were leaking, your arousal dripping out of your hole as he recorded every second of it.

“eddie,” you whined, moving to close your legs but he pushes them apart, his camera getting a shot of your bare bottom half with the dress at your waist.

“was my baby jealous tonight? you only want me to yourself?” he asked, inhaling the scent between your legs, “i did not know you could be so greedy,” he teased.

he let his phone record your cunt when he pushed two fingers into you and started to fuck your hole like that, purely because he wanted to feel how wet you were for him. you were soaking, your arousal leaking from your hole and around his fingers.

the phone was getting everything. the sounds of your cunt squelching around his fingers, the way your trimmed bush covered your mound, the way his fingers shone with your juices. he didn’t even know where to look, the phone or the real thing. he chose the real thing, but looking at the phone periodically to make sure you were still in view.

“fuck, eddie,” you couldn’t help but react to the stretch of his rough fingers, the ones that always wrapped around your throat when he fucked you on your back, or the ones that held your hand to help you down the stairs.

you were still aware that there was a party going on downstairs, still smelling weed smoke and the alcohol on your breath, but too focused on the fact that eddie was recording your every movement.

his fingers fucked you gently, not nearly as rough as he would, and you whined in reaction. eddie just watched you throw your head back when he stopped recording and threw the phone next to you, moving to let his tongue run over your cunt. his fingers kept you spread while he lapped at your hole, but you knew he was rushed.

eddie was too excited to finally record you, to finally have something he can watch over and over again until you’re able to satiate his craving for you again. he loved you like this, jealous and bothered by the fact that the two of you had no ties together.

eddie wanted ties. but you didn’t seem like the type to want that. at least, he thought so.

“get on your hands and knees, do that for me,” eddie said in the usual rasp he had after he smoked, and you opened your eyes at the loss of contact to look at him.

you were breathless from the sliver of pleasure he gave you, and needy for the hardness under his briefs. but you did it quick, sitting up and moving your body to get on your hands and knees except instead of holding yourself up on your hands, you grabbed a pillow and used it to rest your head on so that your ass was in the air for him.

the silk rose dress that was drenched in blood just pooled at your waist, letting you expose both holes to him, wet and needy. eddie frantically looked for the phone again, grabbing it and went back to the recording screen.

“fucking shit,” he whispered, the flash letting him see all of you. your holes were throbbing, aching for him to fill and take his spot that practically had his name branded on.

regardless of titles, you were his. even if he wasn’t yours.

“eddie,” you whined as your cheek pressed into the pillow, feeling his hand spread you open to the cool air, and to the camera of his phone.

“what is it, baby? you need me? wanna show my camera how fucking needy you are?” he taunted as he landed a spank on your ass cheek, of course eddie recorded him play with you as he liked.

as he pulled your round ass cheeks apart and spit on your puckered hole, moving the camera to show his thumb rubbing the rim of your asshole, and moved to press into it while you flinched at the touch.

“eddie, what the fuck,” you gasped as you felt his thumb slide into the tight hole with restraint, feeling an odd pressure that soon turned into the pleasure of something being filled.

you’d take what he’d give you, because the entire recording thing was for his pleasure. you knew he wanted to get every angle, every scenario, every moment of you naked and aching for him so he didn’t have to imagine your sinful activities together 一 he could just open his photos app and watch as he tore you apart.

he slid his thumb in and out of your hole as slow as possible, and you heard the mattress squeak and felt it dip, not feeling eddie’s clothed thighs behind yours anymore. they were naked, skin to skin and you felt the phone thud next to your leg, his thumb still curled inside of you when you felt his wet tip hit your cunt. you couldn’t help the gasp that left you, and you waited for the pressure to stretch you out, but it never came.

so when you tried to push your hips back onto him, he gripped your asscheek to spread it and hold you there.

“uh-uhn, you have to wait.” he said and you let out a cracked whine, and then saw the flash turn on again.

eddie had the phone in his hand above you, up to his chest to get all of your curves, the bareness up to the middle of your back where the blood-soaked dress sat, and his tumb still wet and sliding in and out of you.

“you want my dick, baby?” he asked, recording you wiggling your ass and trying to sink onto him.

“please, eddie, don’t tease me,” you whined, lifting yourself up just a tiny bit to look over your shoulder, getting a hard glimpse of eddie’s sinister smile, watching through the screen of his phone.

“tell me, tell me you want it and it’s yours,” he demanded softly. it was a simple demand with heavy baggage to it.

“i want it, please i want your dick so bad, please give it to me,” you whined beautifully, eddie realizing he’d get to hear you like this all over again whether it’d be on his phone or in person.

the sensation of being recorded while in your most vulnerable state sent shockwaves to your cunt, and he felt your hole clench around the small of his tip. it was so erotic, so exposing, and the simple act alone meant there was more trust you put into eddie than the both of you realized.

you’d trust eddie with your life, and when he finally sinks into your tight hole, you realize there wasn’t anyone else you’d rather trust with your body, your mind, your image.

“my f-” you sputtered, the single sound of trying to say fuck dragging out when eddie groans behind you.

eddie was catching everything, and for some reason watching himself stretch you out around the girth of his cock made him bite into his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“fuck baby, you look so fucking good,” he said breathlessly, “like you were fucking made to be on camera,”

he drew in and out of you, each time admiring the way you molded around him, how your skin was littered with little beauty marks and stretch marks. he could say he was in love with you, but you might reach back and try to slap him.

he bottomed out, his balls slapping against your cunt with each stroke and groaned with every clench. eddie recorded all of it, and let the camera catch the way your slick was gathering in a ring around his cock. he was high off of you, delirious from how you felt squeezing him like you did.

he felt like he was gonna go insane with how you moaned and whined for him in every way.

“eddie, eddie, eddie,” you chanted in moans, responding to the way he made you so full. so full of him.

your hand reached down blindly as you face planted into the pillow, moving your head to the side and finding where his cock slid in and out of you. eddie saw you start to position yourself to touch your clit, and moved the camera to the underside, capturing the way you rubbed your clit for him from below. he could feel the tips of your fingers brushing against the shaft of his cock, and he let out a throaty, cracked moan.

he moved his camera back to your spread cheeks and noticed how you started to bounce back on him, spreading your legs wider to be more accessible for him. by now, you completely forgot how you got here. you forgot that you were at a house party, robin’s house party with people walking up and down the stairs to go to restrooms and find their own vacant room.

it was exhilarating, and you wanted more so you started to meet the rhythm of his thrusts. you were able to feel him everywhere, deep inside to the point your legs felt like they were trembling already.

before you could move your hand anymore, eddie managed to grab your arms and place them at your back to grip them by your wrists. your hair was a mess, the prom queen crown laying on the mattress beside you, and tears forming in your eyes when you felt your cunt clench continuously around him.

eddie wasn’t missing anything. he had it all on tape, filming every moment of you squeezing around him. you consumed him completely, and the feeling of you so snug around him and realizing no one else would ever be able to have you like this — it was pushing the feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“tell me baby,” he said in a huff, “tell me you’re mine, this pussy’s mine,”

you cried at his words, feeling his pace pick up and the force of his thrusts becoming harder. it was nudging the inside of your cervix, pressing at your spot that he knew all too well. he was so much to take, too much to not feel pleasure and the prick of pain. it was everything to you.

“you know this pussy’s mine. you want me tell everyone you’re my fucking girl?” he grunted, the phone becoming hard to focus on as he remembered why he was doing this in the first place.

“yes! eddie, yes! i want it, please,” you confessed, desperate for a release. he restrained you as his hips snapped against yours, the sound of wet skin emanating in the room. loud enough for anyone outside the door to hear.

but you didn’t care.

eddie let go of your wrists and curled his body over yours for his stomach to touch your back, reached the phone around to the front of your face. he used his free hand to grab the base of your throat and pull you up just a little more so the camera got to see all of it.

“that’s right, princess, say it again for me, think i need to hear it again,” he teased breathlessly. you didn’t even know how he was able to talk so much with how heavy he was breathing over you.

the feeling of his palm on your throat with his fingers on the sides made your cunt clench again and he just chuckled, moving his hand from your throat to grab your hair. he yanked your head back softly and pulled you up to where you tried to grasp for the blanket, but instead settled to rest on his thighs that held you in place.

“i’m your girl, ‘m yours, please ‘m yours,” you whined. eddie could feel the vibration against his palm and his cock twitched at your words.

he felt his release begging, and you were holding on for as long as you could until he tells you to cum. he knew that too, and he took advantage of it.

“you sound so pretty baby, my pretty fucking girlfriend. all fucking mine, goddamn,” he said and buried his face in your neck, ignoring the burn in his arm for holding the phone far at an upper angle to get all of you.

“mine?” you choked, wanting to ask a certain question but couldn’t form the words through your moans and sobs.

you didn’t think he’d understand, but by the innocent, curious, desperate tone in the moan you choked — he did.

“i’m yours baby, of course i’m fucking yours, ‘m all yours,” eddie heaved buried in your neck, his hand twisted in your hair to rest your head on his shoulder.

you were bent in odd angles that nobody has ever put you in before, no one had even bothered to take you out of doggy style. not to mention that he was recording every minute of it, not even knowing how his phone hadn’t died yet.

but this was intoxicating. you were addicted and couldn’t get off of him, even if you tried.

you were desperate. but you were only desperate for him. and through each moan he coaxed out of you, forced out of you by the abruptness of his thrusts — he knew.

“‘m gonna cum, eddie, gonna cum for you,” you whined at the ceiling, your eyes dropping with every frantic thrust his hips provided. it was too much, everything was too much.

before eddie could even speak, he dropped the phone on the mattress and let go of your hair, wrapping both arms around your waist and making you sit on his lap practically. he was fucking up into you as your body leaned into his and shook, squirming in his grip as you cried and moaned.

the pulsing around his cock only made him grunt, letting his forehead hit your shoulder until it perked up again at your words.

“cum inside of me, please, please cum inside,” you begged as you felt his thrusts and rhythm breaking, recognizing the sound of his voice and the moans he was making that he was close.

eddie panting in the crook of your neck, and you could still feel the sensation of his balls slapping against your cunt until he stilled inside of you. his cock twitched, and you felt heat spread within your pussy, ropes of his release filling you.

the full sensation was overwhelming, so much that your legs started to tingle again as you could start to feel the tip of his cock nudging you inside.

you were full of him, all of him and he sank his teeth into the arch of your neck as if he were a vampire, biting down until his hips stopped the stutter.

“mmmmm,” you hummed, letting your body slump against his. you were still half dressed, the pink silk still at your waist and you were praying that the fake dried blood on your body didn’t get on the sheets.

your eyes fluttered closer, sulking in the warmth of his arms as the breathing between you two began to regulate. but eddie needed to get you in his bed as soon as possible. though he really loved the sex, his second favorite was having you curled into his body while he held you tight.

“mm-mm, no, you gotta get up and get dressed so we can go back to mine,” he said as he finally pulled out of you, bending you over again to have you face down and supporting yourself on your knees.

“eddie, wait,” you budged, thinking he was going in for another round. he’d have plenty of time as your boyfriend to go rounds, just not tonight.

“hold on babe, i have to get the money shot,” he said in a lighthearted tone, fully serious and grabbing the phone to quickly open the camera again and take a video up close of your hole pushing out most of what he released inside of you. you squirmed and whined as the cool air hit your wetness, but he enjoyed it even more.

“fuck me,” he said in a breath as he held your ass open, and let out a whistle,

“so are you really my girlfriend or were you just saying that?”

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rogueddie · 4 months

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Steddie Fic Recs: Masterlist

💜 Asexual / Aromantic

🧭 Canon Divergence

🖤 Creature Feature

🕓 Different Time

🦻 Disabled Steve / Eddie

💌 Established Relationship

🤞 Fake Dating

📸 Famous AU

👀 Friends With Benefits

👻 Ghosts

🐬 Mermaids / Sirens

📼 Movie AUs

🔞 NSFW P1 : Bottom / Sub Steve

💦 NSFW P2 : Bottom / Sub Eddie

🍌 Scoops Ahoy

😷 Sick Fic

🧵 Soulmates

🩰 Sports

⏳ Time Loop

🎀 Tooth-Rotting Fluff

🥀 Touch Starved

🏳️‍⚧️ Trans

🦇 Vampire Eddie

🩸 Vampire Steve

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fics #fic rec #masterlist

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pinkrelish · 7 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘺

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶After a lifetime of questionable decisions, you moved from the big city to the sleepy town of Hawkins with your best friend, and took the first job you saw: answering phones for the most boring auto shop in the dullest place on Earth. It wasn't exactly the adventure you wanted it to be.. but attempting to win over the jaded mechanic who insisted on ignoring your existence proved entertaining.✶

163k+ words | 20 chapters | slow burn, mutual pining, smut, angst

》 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20

𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎3

𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 & 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩

dad!mechanic!eddie x pregnant!mom!reader

✶A fast forward in the slow lives of the Munson family, who are about to grow a little bigger.✶

TBD | 10 chapters | smut, pregnancy, bonus mini-series set after main story

》 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10

𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎3

𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘴 / 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 / 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘴

✶Red * indicates smut. Organized in chronological order.✶

BLURBS

》 small thing, sad thing / adrie's birthday morning / first day of kindergarten

ONE SHOTS

》 jerkin' around* / valentine's day / date night / buying lingerie together* / halloween '93 / christmas '93 / an extra for good luck* / home video* / three father's days

DELETED SCENES

》 dirty hands* / driving lessons*

#eddie munson x reader #the yes policy #eddie munson #dad!eddie #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #mechanic!eddie #masterlist #masterpost #stranger things fanfic

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eddiesxangel · 2 months

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Take Me to the Lakes Master List

Camp!Counsellor Eddie x Camp!Counsellor Reader

Summery: This summer was supposed to be the summer to work at your favourite place in the world with your best friend. But things take a turn when it isn’t your best friend you end up working with.

CW: camp AU, counsellor!eddie x f!camp counsellor reader, popular!reader, 18+ content, drinking, weed consumption, angst, eventual smut, fluff, reader and Eddie are in their 20’s.

🔥~ smut

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3🔥 Part 4🔥

Part 5🔥

#eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #Eddie Munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #Take me to the lakes masterlist

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lesservillain · 5 months

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Growing up, you've always been known as a people pleaser. Ever the altruist, you take joy in helping others, even if it's at your own expense. So when you decided to pursue a degree in nursing after high school the people in your life were less than surprised. As you enter your second year of schooling, you decide to enroll in a program to assist those affected by the earthquakes in Hawkin's that happened back in the spring. But, when you volunteered to take on a case of someone who had been turned down by everyone else, you had no idea that you were signing up for your life to change forever.

content warnings: canon divergent, eddie lives, grumpy!eddie disabled!eddie, nurse!reader, medical talks, violence and all that comes with it, major character death, suicidal ideation and all that comes with it, eventual smut. each chapter will have its own warnings.

the playlist

chapter list:

i. did you get what you deserve?

ii. gotta promise not to stop when i say "when"

iii. the smoke and who's still standing when it clears

iv. someone like you and all you know and how you speak

v. i want to hold the hand inside you

vi. i run the risk of losing you, and that’s worse

vii. when you lay alone, i ache

viii. love is not a victory march

ix. i’m inside out, you’re underneath

x. in some sad way, I already know

xi. and the reason is you

misc:

moodboard

#eddie munson #eddie munson masterlist #eddie munson series masterlist #eddie munson x reader #make me better #mmb!eddie

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emeritusemeritus · 6 months

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Squirm, Hellfire Queen [Eddie Munson X Reader]

Title: Squirm, Hellfire Queen.

Pairing: Eddie Munson X Reader {Established Relationship}

Timeline: S4, No mention of Vecna.

Summary: You’re a little uncomfortable at Hellfire Club and Eddie investigates.

Warnings: Mentions of smut, creampies, cum, cumplay, secret relationships. Swearing (it’s Eddie after all). Dustin being my favourite character to write once again. I don’t think ‘Freak’ is mentioned but it’s my own HC that he’s called Richard, in case that comes up. Not beta read nor spellchecked, we die like Chrissy.

"Dude, you okay?" Dustin asks, leaning over the table towards you, earning an immediate glare from the dungeon master from interrupting the game. Dustin holds up his hands in surrender sarcastically, falling back into his seat and focusing his attention back on the game, all under the watchful eye of the seemingly omniscient dungeon master.

A few minutes pass before you move again, adjusting your hips in your seat as you wince subconsciously, earning you another confused glance from Gareth, sitting directly across from you.

"You saw it too? Right!" Dustin speaks out again, clicking his fingers mid air as he turns to you with a questioning gaze.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you feel a blush bloom over your face at the attention you were unwittingly receiving. You shake your head, trying not to meet anyone's gaze, pretending to focus all of your attention at the game, analysing your character sheet to study your hit points.

You attempt to keep yourself under control, not to draw any more attention to yourself then you have already but only a few moments later your eyes close and you suck in a silent breath, fighting every instinct you have not to squirm in your seat.

Your writhing and obvious discomfort had caught the attention of the dungeon master sat at the head of the table, his gaze focusing in on you as he watches your curious movements. You can feel his gaze blazing on you and so you finally find the courage to look up at him, meeting his gaze.

You thought initially that he would be angry with you, for drawing away attention from his, frankly brilliant, campaign but as you gazed in his eyes, it was clear that not a single ounce of anger was present. Instead, he looked upon with intense curiosity and intrigue, eyes wide and orientated upon your figure. The table blocked the majority of his view of you, but he watched with interest as you readjusted your hips in your seat, pulling down on your skirt, full lips parted in a small 'o' shape, eyes fixed on nothing in the distance.

When you met his eyes again, your blush deepened, eyes widening like a deer in headlights as you tried to avert your gaze immediately. A smirk tugged at the side of his mouth as he realised exactly what was happening. He took a brief look around at his little sheep around him, each of them blissfully ignorant of what was happening just a few seats down.

"Eddie?" Mike asks gently, trying to get his attention.

"Huh?" Eddie asks, not realising that he had zoned out, lost in his own thoughts.

"We decide to flee," Mike says slowly, gesturing with his eyes to look at the game board below, seeing that there was so way out of the trap Eddie had created.

"Oh yeah man, course," Eddie says, earning a mixture of questioning and confused glances from the boys, and girl, around the table, each of them expecting him to make a bigger deal of it.

"Tell you what, we hang it up right here, next week we begin from this point exactly and you give me your intelligent decision then," Eddie says, clasping his hands together as he sits back on his throne, eyes squinting as he smirks.

"Princess, a word?" Eddie says, using your nickname as he looks directly at you. You nod, silently, laughing gently as the rest of the boys 'ooo' at you, assuming you are in trouble.

They quickly gather their belongings, saying bye to the dungeon master and the princess as they head out the door, leaving the rest of the cleanup to Eddie as usual.

Once he is confident that everyone has dispersed, the dungeon master leaps up from his throne and strides over to the door, locking it from the inside. He turns and fixes his dangerous gaze upon you, a smug smirk pulling at his lips as he begins to saunter over to you.

"It appears you caused a scene Princess," he says threateningly, running his hands along the back of your chair. You open your mouth to apologise but think better of it, no longer feeling embarrassed by your 'issue' now you were alone with the perpetrator.

"I'm not really the one to blame here am I, master?" You snark back, your voice breathy and deep, exactly how you knew he liked it. He cursed under his breath, especially at hearing his title, something he always enjoyed hearing fall from your lips.

"Pray tell, what is causing the fair maidens troubles?" He asks dramatically, leaning down to tower over you, his lips ghosting you neck as he speaks. You were about to open your mouth with another sarcastic reply but instead, decided to show him. You scooted your chain back every so slightly, the chair grinding on the linoleum floor the only sound that could be heard in the silent room.

His gaze immediately fixes on the skin of your thighs, your skirt riding up as you took your seat.

With a dangerously flirty smirk, you open your legs wide enough for him to see exactly what has been causing your discomfort during the hellfire session, your skirt riding even further up with your movement, blocking any obstruction.

He breaths in a sharp breath, curses falling from his lips as his eyes bulge, his gaze fixated on the space between your thighs, showing him exactly what your problem was.

Between your thighs, your panties were completely soaked, melded to your puffy pussy lips, with extra wetness leaking out onto the seat below you, pooling under your butt.

He's frozen to the spot, fixated on the sight before him, unable move, unable to speak.

"Seems like it's more of an 'us' problem to me, dungeon master," you tease, lifting your hand to run one finger over your panties and into the little pool below, feeling the mixture of your arousal and his cum beneath your finger.

"Jesus Christ," is all he manages to spit out, his eyes following your finger diligently as it trails gently over your panties, still sensitive from your activities earlier.

One of the most wonderful things about Eddie is just how much he cums. It's like he's hoarding it, right up until the last second where he unleashes everything he has, flooding you and leaving no doubt to where he's been.

"No wonder you were squirming sweetheart," he says, finally breaking his gaze to look up into your eyes, seeing a smile on your lips that completely knocks him for six. The mixture of your sweet smile, deliciously used body and evidence of his defilement was enough to render him completely useless, brain turning to mush as he looks at you with all the love and adoration he can. His tone is gentle again, using the pet name he favoured for sweet moments, if that was what you would call this. "To think I was going to ask you to stand and address the class," he smirks, shaking his head slightly.

"Yeah something tells me that would have been a disaster, I could barely keep your load in sitting down!" You reply, giggling. His lips part and his eyebrows shoot up as he lets out a strangled groan at your words, your beautiful, dirty mouth always affecting him. "You think the guys noticed?" You asked suddenly, worrying that someone would have caught on to your discomfort.

No one knew what was happening, what had been happening, between you and Eddie for quite some time. You'd been best friends from your first encounter, though the friendship was laced with innuendos, teasing, flirtation and downright mutual pining right from the very beginning. Your relationship had bloomed organically, never having felt so right, but it was locked away as both of your dirty little secrets. You'd become close with all the hellfire club and the bigger friendship group around it and were concerned about the implication it could have on your friendships if you just became 'Eddie's girl'.

You'd been successfully hiding your relationship for nearly 7 months and so far, not a single person had caught on.

"Sweetheart, I say this with all the love and devotion in the world, those guys wouldn't have a single clue about this sort'a thing," he smirks, leaning in to kiss you.

"Two of them have girlfriends!" You reply, breaking away, trying to argue the point. He snorts, shaking his head, leaning in for another kiss.

"Trust me baby, they're clueless nerds," he says with a sarcastic smile.

"As opposed to you... dungeon master," you reply sarcastically. He immediately reaches out to grab you, tickling your sides but he stops when you let out a strangled gasp, thinking he'd hurt you.

"What, baby, wh-?" He panics, causing you to laugh.

"Lets just say, I'm pretty sure I'm empty now," you blush, gesturing down to the chair below you where even more of Eddie's cum has leaked out in your frantic movements. He bites back a groan again at the scene before him and immediately looks up at you with a smirk.

"Can't have that can we sweetheart? Just gonna have to fill you up aaaall over again."

"Promises, promises," you smirk, pulling him down for one last kiss, before attempting to stand up, your face twisting into a grimace as you do. Eddie offers his hand out for you and helps you up onto the seat, his eyes flicking to your now unoccupied chair and he tries to fix the image to his memory for later use.

"We really need to start using condoms," you mutter, feeling the sticky residue clinging to your lower half, frowning at the state of the chair. You were on the pill, so no risk there, but situations like this were growing ever more frequent... and uncomfortable.

"Blasphemy!" Eddie mutters, pulling you in to him arms as his ringed hand comes to play with your hair and your jaw. You laugh sweetly at his outburst and he chuckles deeply to himself as his eyes wonder over your face.

You both pull away and immediately set to packing away all the game pieces, books and sheets that litter the table, both ready to be out of this room.

You grimace as you walk over to a cabinet at the side of the room, the wet clothes becoming increasingly uncomfortable as you bend down to reach for a pack of antibacterial wipes which are stored in the little cleaning cupboard. You make quick work of cleaning up the chair you'd defiled and can't help but laugh with Eddie as he sees just how many wipes it takes to clean it up.

Throwing the used wipes in the trash, you look over to Eddie who has packed everything into his cardboard box and is waiting for you.

You pause, weighing up your options before bending down and peeling off the wet panties, feeling an immediately chill as your bare pussy hides underneath your skirt. Eddie doesn't bother to hide his groan as he sees you take off your panties, before stuffing them inside your lunch bag so that they wouldn't ruin any of your notes.

"You're telling me, I've got to walk these halls, get across the car park and drive us all the way home, knowing that there's nothing under your little skirt?" He groans, pulling you towards him as you walk closer. You immediately feel the telling bulge pressed against you as he holds you tightly to him, causing you to smirk.

"That depends," you tease, running your fingers over his neck, making his breathing deeper and shaky with arousal.

"On what, Princess?" He asks, eyes blazing.

"We could wait... tease each other slowly and let it simmer until we get back to your trailer where you can have me however and wherever you want," you tease, your mouth pressing kisses to his throat as you speak, smiling as you feel his bulge jumping and throbbing at your hip. "Or, I could offer you some relief right now..." you say, pouting your lips in such a way that he knows exactly what you mean. "Though, if you can't wait, I can't promise that I can wait till we get home to play with my little pussy myself."

"Fuck," he curses, followed by a near painful groan as he takes in your words, his entire body shaking to try and calm himself. He reaches down to adjust himself completely without subtlety and groans again at the slightest touch. "Van. Now."

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #eddie munson #Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #Hellfire club #Eddie Munson masterlist

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