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yeonban · 8 months

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SOMA'S BIRTHDAY GIFT!

@deathfavor asked: “ Soma. “ Seiroku’s voice is soft, a hand reaching out to gently brush over Soma’s cheek as he spares a glance from the corner of his eyes. Should they be sleep already? Probably. But this was worth staying up a bit later for. Seiroku sits up a bit from their futon, using the moonlight to help as he leans over Soma’s figure with a smile. “ Happy birthday. “ Never mind they haven’t yet fallen asleep to ‘start’ the next day – based on the outside it should be the next day technically. He bends down, pressing one kiss, then several to Soma’s lips, soft and gentle. “ I wanted to be the first to tell you. “ He whispers, thumb gently caressing his fiancé’s cheek. “I love you.”

It’s definitely harder to be able to celebrate Soma’s birthday than his own. It’s a day full of tradition and it’s about the band as much as it is about Soma. And he’s plenty aware of both how important those traditions are and how long they are likely to take based on rough calculations. Hours upon hours. He’ll take the time together where he can. Now, and after they’ve slept and the morning comes and Seiroku forces himself to get up early alongside him because he’s not going to miss out on parts of Soma’s day. Not even the hours of gifts and talks where he can at least be supportive in presence. ( And company alone Seiroku was content enough with. )

It does feel near impossible to steal some time, but there is time between the gifts and feast where Seiroku manages to steal the star of the day away for at least a short while. “ Next year, I’m scheduling at least a small, set time for you and me. “ Seiroku announces the moment he’s led Soma away, though there’s a smile on his face. Rather than go to their room however, Seiroku leads him to what was his old room before everything. “ I had to store my gift for you here so you wouldn’t accidentally find it. “ Seiroku explains with a small smile. He gives Soma’s hand a gentle squeeze before he lets go and turns towards the chest in the room.

“ My gift is nothing fancy- “ Well, that potentially not true, but not fancy in terms of grandiose. “ - but I hope you’ll like it all the same. “ With hundreds of gifts, it could be quite hard to think of something when Soma already could have anything. Nor was there something of the past that Seiroku could offer, when his own clan history was miserable. But there was an unexpected skill he’d been working on the last several months.

When Seiroku turns around, he offers a Soma a small kesi tapestry from high quality silk and vibrant colors. In the center were two sacred koi fish corresponding to each of their color schemes with Soma’s embroidered with the Date symbol like a crown on the head. Surrounding them and ensuring they were the center of the piece was a circular, flowy border styled to carefully replicate the pattern that adorns Soma’s outfits. In the background, in gentler and softer colors were woven stories and scenes – of the festival, of feasts with the clan, a moonlit scenery of their night talks. Woven proof of time together. Seiroku’s decades of knowledge and working with his own strings had made weaving a surprising talent for him to discover and learn quickly. It was something he could do for Soma that no one else likely would, something personal, and something that would last against even passage of time.

“ I confess I’m no expert to weaving, it was my first full piece. “ He admits with a quiet laugh. “ Took a long time. “ Moments stolen on his breaks when Soma wasn’t around or inbetween lulls of patients or the times when Soma was gone or busy, hours poured into honing the skill and learning the difficult fabric, not to mention all that was poured into creating this seamless piece. “ Although I already said it, I'll say it again. Happy birthday, Soma. “ He smiles, bright and full before standing on his toes to press another kiss to his lips. " I love you so much. " More than he could ever truly articulate.

Murmuring a soft mm?, Soma's eyes open languidly after the gentle touch succeeds in stealing him away from the tranquility of near-sleep (he hadn't been asleep just yet, merely relaxed enough to be able to doze off in the near future) and he carefully takes in the sight of Seiroku rising from underneath the sheets to drape himself above him, covering all in his line of sight other than a sole ray of moonlight that merely serves to further highlight his fiancé's beauty. The view in itself manages to bring a smile to Soma's face, from his point of view oddly reminiscent of a sun resurfacing from beneath the moon at the end of a solar eclipse, and his smile only grows fonder once the birthday wish leaves Seiroku's mouth.

❛ Looks like it's already shaping up to be a happy one. ❜ And despite what appearances might prompt one to think, this isn't something that happens frequently. It isn't that Soma dislikes his birthday (far from it), but he cannot recall any recent birthdays that could have been deemed as happy. Successful, yes; decent, yes; exorbitant, yes - but not once happy. Though the entirety of the band desires to celebrate his day of birth, offering him luxurious gifts upon luxurious gifts every time such an occasion comes around, it remains a much more formal event than Soma would rather it be. He enjoys the attention and feeling of importance it stirs within him, but it lacks the warmth he used to take for granted all those years earlier, during the times he could still spend with his parents and older brother, when he never once felt the pressure to show anything other than his bona fide reactions (glee, usually) to the presents.

Along with his family's absence and the increasingly busier schedules of the other grand generals that rarely allow for long trips unrelated to important matters (as well as their distancing from each other over the past decade), Soma's birthdays have long since lost their warmth, becoming something more akin to official business than a day personalized for him. He doesn't particularly mind the shift - it simply represents one more unspoken duty to follow through with, but this year is already far different from the ones before it. The kisses that pour down on him manage to rekindle the warmth he'd forgotten to feel on this day with such ease that he could laugh, and one of his hands reaches up to caress Seiroku's cheek in kind, guiding him down for another kiss before they finally agree to sleep and he softly whispers against Seiroku's ear. ❛ I love you too. ❜

It was certainly going to be a long day nonetheless, but perhaps this year Soma could afford to be even half as happy about his own birthday as his retainers have always been (for them, his birthday represents one more year of safety and guidance - for him, ever since the innocence of his childhood has eroded away, it merely became another sign of the unforgiving passage of time; though now he has something else to look forward to in the future besides the goal all bushi should strive towards - and he is currently sleepily snuggled against his chest).

Daybreak seems to come faster than usual, and although both his sleepiness and the comforting warmth of Seiroku's presence try to keep Soma inside the futon for a while longer, the red soul forces himself to wake up and start getting ready for what's to come. On any other day, he might have been able to do away with a few more minutes of rest, but on this particular day the schedule is strict enough that he wouldn't be surprised if his retainers were to come knocking on his door to make certain that he'll be on time; and so he mentally prepares himself for the ceremony ahead and leans down to press a kiss to Seiroku's temple, waking him gently instead of the banging that's sure to follow from their retainers if either of them aren't within sight in the next half an hour.

What ensues conforms to what Soma is used to - a quick debriefing of his schedule for the day, the meet and greet of visitors from the Date's allied bands and the seemingly never-ending line of vassals hoping to outdo each other with the grandiosity of their speeches or the beauty and rarity of their presents. The grand general's expression doesn't change through any of it, remaining just as calm after the hundredth gift as he'd been after the tenth, but halfway through the gift-giving ceremony he subtly grasps Seiroku's hand under his haori, intertwining their fingers and offering it a gentle squeeze as a sign of gratitude for enduring this with him despite not having to (his retainers might've been displeased with his absence, but either of them could've easily talked them into allowing Seiroku to do anything else), before he settles on rubbing his thumb against the back of Seiroku's hand in smooth motions. He has long since gotten used to these formalities, but this must be the first year Seiroku has had to sit still in silence, listening to person after person talk for hours on end when they weren't even directly speaking to him.

Soma's composure doesn't crack even after the gift-giving ends, remaining as spotless as though the ceremony hadn't involved hours upon hours of maintaining a stiff position and being forced to socialize from a captain's standpoint (because while it might be "Soma's" birthday, it is undoubtedly celebrated as the captain's birthday). It's only when Seiroku's mildly aggravated comment hits him that Soma's carefully crafted expression breaks into something partly apologetic and slightly amused at the display, as well as deeply fond at the thought it inspires. Seiroku is the only one capable of confidently bossing him around like this even just in jest (and he isn't jesting on this matter), but come "next year" and they'll be long married. Soma can only promise him this now, but in a mere few months' time Seiroku will be able to officially make any changes he wishes to his upcoming schedules (within reason). ❛ Next year you can have me for the entire afternoon or evening. We can schedule the feast around whichever one you choose. ❜

The grand general's attention shifts away from his yellow soul once their surroundings become different than what he'd originally expected them to be though, and he closely watches as Seiroku opens the door to his first ever house at the Date, leading him inside of it. It has been quite some time since Soma has last stepped into this room (despite everything having started here), and underneath his confusion a feeling of mild nostalgia kicks in. It hasn't been that long ago all things considered, but it certainly seems that way after everything that has transpired between the two of them lately. No sooner does Soma bemusedly contemplate Seiroku's rooms turning from one to three (from this, to their shared one, this one and the spare one he's gifted Seiroku within the castle) that his beloved's statement brings him back to the present moment and the grand general turns around to face him, glancing down at the gift resting in his hands.

Soma's eyes widen immediately upon contact with the tapestry, having expected a gift, but nothing nearly as heartfelt as the one currently bestowed upon him. He freezes for several seconds as a hand reaches to gently touch it & ultimately takes it into his own hands, surveying it much alike to a child receiving its first ever toy (a feeling of bafflement, a feeling of wonder, and to separate his reactions from a child's - a pang of the heart). Receiving gifts is nothing out of the ordinary even on other days of the year for someone of his status, nevermind on the day of his birth, but fifteen years have passed since he's last received something as Soma rather than as the captain, and he cannot recall even one instance in which he's ever been presented with something that didn't in some way relate to his future or life as a leader.

Kitetsutos and wakizashis of the finest calibers one could possibly forge or order, horses and motorbikes more refined than the next, vibrant and rare cloths and materials from far away lands, Hi no Moto's first-rate sakes - as long as it could be named, Soma was bound to have received it at least once, if not repeatedly. However, they all have one thing in common. Each gifter generally strives towards one of two goals: to prepare (or aid) him to lead and battle, or to gain his personal favor for later use. Even on the few instances his and the other grand generals' schedules have matched enough to meet and exchange gifts, they too had, without fail, fallen into one of the two categories. It's both a saddening and heartwarming realization, looking back on his past experiences, that even people who have known him for most of his (and most of their) life couldn't yet achieve what has taken Seiroku a mere few months to. He's been Soma's first on more fronts than the red soul has even bothered to count, and yet, as though dissatisfied with only just that many, his fiancé continues to go above and beyond to make him feel seen, loved... closer to a person rather than the concept of immovable power "Date Soma" has become synonymous with.

❛ ..."No expert"? If you hadn't told me you made it, I would've been convinced you commissioned it from a professional. ❜ It's his first thought on the matter, honest and true, and although he's already uttered a response, Soma's eyes remain glued to the tapestry, slowly taking in both the effort it must've taken for it to be woven this flawlessly (Seiroku admits it has taken him a long time, and while Soma can most definitely see why, the fact that Seiroku would personally spend his time weaving it rather than sparing himself the trouble by ordering one from their many tapissiers renders him speechless) as well as the details his love has carefully chosen to add to it, each more recognizable than the next. None merely there to fill potentially empty spots on the tapestry - every single one a precious memory of theirs that Soma can still vividly recall and which he's glad to see somewhere else than only in the confines of his memory. They're scenes of easier and happier times than customary to a bushi's daily life... of memories that they can both look fondly on rather than lament about (he's had more than his share of the latter, after all, as they can be found even on some of the walls in his room).

He blinks once, twice, thrice, making a serious effort to not tear up. It's never been easy to make Soma cry (a feat that has always required either great anguish or great happiness - mostly the former rather than the latter) and he won't do so now either, not when thousands of people are looking forward to seeing him again in the next few minutes; but that doesn't stop his eyes from growing slightly hazed from the tears threatening to spill before he forcibly pushes them back to where they came from.

His gaze lingers on the kesi tapestry in silence for a bit longer (still in mild disbelief) as he appreciates every aspect of it (the handiwork, the times they've spent together that remained etched into Seiroku's memory, the thoughtfulness and consideration behind it all) before he frees one of his hands to reach for his love's and squeezes it, eyes finally rising to meet his gaze. ❛ Thank you, Seiroku. It's by far the best gift I've received. And I don't mean just today, but on any of my previous birthdays too. ❜ A loving smile blooms from underneath the barely avoided threat of staining vulnerability as Soma can't help himself from not only returning the kiss, but placing more to Seiroku's lips before choosing to rest his forehead against his beloved's as they have for countless times. ❛ I love you. ❜ A whisper, low and tender, as though it could've otherwise disturbed their moment, and the red soul refuses to return to their vassals for at least a while longer, opting to instead pay attention to every microscopic detail of this moment, to engrave it into his memory as accurately as Seiroku has engraved their many others onto the tapestry.

A few more seconds pass in comfortable tranquility to allow them to enjoy the moment in its entirety before Soma exhales amusedly at something and ever so slightly increases the distance between them, though his tone leaves no room for any misunderstandings that might've ensued from the statement alone. ❛ Though "second best" might fit it better overall. ❜ There is no better gift he's ever been presented on a birthday, that much is certain, but he has received one on another occasion that could effortlessly top even this one (and it does, even if the tapestry is a close second).

Soma's gaze doesn't waver away from Seiroku's, upholding the eye contact even as he brings their intertwined hands higher up and places the palm of Seiroku's hand against where his heart lies in both a throwback to the day they have chosen to take this road together (matching Seiroku's thoughtful gift of memories) as well as a way to swear on his life that this is the truth he sees without verbally doing so. ❛ I don't think anything can really compare to the gift of meeting you. ❜ Every word the grand general utters is the unfiltered truth (red souls never feel inclined to spout lies, and neither does Soma) but he wants Seiroku to be as certain about this fact as someone can be. The grip on the kesi tapestry remains delicate even when it grows slightly firmer as to not accidentally drop it, and Soma leans in for another kiss after the statement settles, no longer capable of keeping himself away from the one who is, undoubtedly, the love of his life.

#muse: date soma.#deathfavor #* date soma. / ic.#THIS IS THE SOFTEST THING EVERRR EVEN /I'M/ TEARING UP ABOUT IT #The way Seiroku stayed up to be the first to wish Soma a happy birthday even though he must've been tired after his day at work...#The way he didn't HAVE to spend the boring (and definitely strenuous) parts of the day w Soma either but did it anyway...#THE WAY HE SPENT /MONTHS/ MAKING THIS TAPESTRY FOR HIM Soma is so blown away he genuinely feels so loved AND so in love I SOB #Also know that after they step out of the room and make their way to the feast Soma IS going to ask if Seiroku has any other talents he #should know about bc not only is he an outstanding doctor; a great swimmer & a talented cook (flashbacks to the fish dish <3) but he's ALSO #a brilliant tapissier. like what Other talents are you hiding in there. (asked by the other guy who has a myriad of talents of his own)#Soma's no longer surprised by Seiroku easily leaving him speechless but he IS always surprised by the many /ways/ he manages to #G O D I JUST CAN'T BELIEVE HOW INSANELY GOOD OF A MATCH THEY ARE!!!!!!!!!!! They're So good for each other it feels almost Surreal

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urhoneycombwitch · 4 months

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common tongue of you lovin' me

🍯 honey flavour: touchstarved loverboy smut

🐝 the bees: Eddie x reader

wc: 2.5k

content warnings: nervous Eddie, touchstarved R, smut, dry humping (is it actually dry if they’re both wet…?), cumming in pants, one (1) use of the word “daddy”, light use of the miscommunication trope

foreword: based on THIS anon everyone say THANKS anon. R and Eddie are in their early 20’s, R is on a gap year from college (so me), they’re in a new relationship with each other, I’m writing this while blasted on edibles idk what else to say 0_o

____

By nature, Eddie Munson is not a shy person.

Even though his dark reputation in Hawkins hasn’t been completely erased, he still manages to make friends wherever he goes through sheer force of personality. It’s like a magic trick, one that you never get tired of- he’ll pause in the middle of grocery stores to make faces at a baby in a stroller, getting belly laughs out of a stranger’s kid in less than ten seconds while still holding your hand down the aisle. One second he’s right behind you in the record store, looking over your shoulder as you browsed, and the next he’ll be on one knee charming a elementary school-aged kid into getting the latest Dio album.

You’ve seen him flirt his way out of speeding tickets with Hopper, for christ’s sake.

Eddie isn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, so after three months of nothing but chaste kisses and quiet hand-holding, you’re left to assume he actually wants to take things slow with you.

He’s been nothing but a gentleman, in these early days of dating- the most action you’ve gotten from him was unintentional. On your third date, a dollop of his ice cream landed on your lap when he used the cone to gesture, which led him to manically grabbing napkins out of his dashboard to wipe at your skirt while you laughed it off. The second he’d brushed against your bare thigh he snapped his hands back like he’d touched a live wire, hastily heaping on apologies, leaving you to allay his nerves while wiping at the stain yourself.

Which, whatever. It’s fine. It’s not like you’re complaining about him being respectful, per se, it’s just that it’s getting harder and harder (hah) to pretend like you don’t wanna fuck him. The feeling between your thighs only seems to increase in intensity when he gives you one of those precious little hand kisses at the end of a date, or a closed-mouth peck before he drives off into the night.

Unfortunately for you and your wet dreams, Eddie Munson has the most edible body you’ve ever seen. Biceps bulging through those form-fitting tees he likes to wear, rounded nose and strong jaw outlined by that cloud of soft black hair, those lithe hips…

Hips that you’re openly staring at from across the room as you sit quietly on Eddie’s couch. He’s reaching up to grab a mug from the cabinet, his Metallica tee pulling up out of his dark denim at the motion, flashing a stripe of his pale lower back.

You feel like a Victorian maid seeing ankle for the first time. You subtly press your thighs together under your short tartan skirt as Eddie moves around the kitchen, talking animatedly about the start of his upcoming campaign.

“I haven’t decided yet if I’m gonna go easy on the little shits or not,” he says, metal spoon clinking against ceramic as he mixes hot chocolate powder. “It’s Max’s first session as an official player, and I don’t wanna scare her off but I do have a reputation to uphold.”

“Yeah,” you agree, giving him a knowing smile as he crosses the room to pass you your mug- “You’re a DM most fearsome. Can’t let them off the hook too easily.”

Eddie blooms under your praise, wiggling his eyebrows with familiar cockiness as he settles on the cushion beside you. “Gotta keep Hawkins' finest in line. It’s a tough gig but I did swear an oath, after all.”

You smile around a sip of hot cocoa, then reach over to set your mug on the coffee table. Eddie has been sat in his usual manner (knees far enough apart to be taking up his whole seat, arm draped casually on the back of the couch) but the second your knee knocks against his, he adjusts himself stiffly, drawing his arm back with a nervous throat-clearing and a murmured “sorry”.

Normally you’d let it go, not wanting to push the issue past the point of his comfortability. But it’s been Three. Months. Of this. And you wanna test the waters, just a little.

“Sorry for what?” You ask, rotating to face him, your shoulders almost-but-not-quite touching.

He’d doing an uncanny impression of a deer caught in headlights, blinking at you with those doey brown eyes, stuttering his way through a weak explanation- “Uh… uh. Sorry for being- f-for touching you?”

There’s a lift at the end of his sentence, one that you mirror with a tilt of your own brow, a playful challenge. “You don’t have to apologize for touching me, Eddie. I’m your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, a nervous edge bleeding around the sound. The curls around his face dance with the head shake he gives. “No, of course, yeah, I know that.”

“Do you?” You scoot closer, a kick of assertiveness giving you the courage to press your leg against his.

“Uh huh.” He’s gazing openly now at the bare skin of your thigh, like he’s waiting to see if it'll burn a hole into his denim.

When you gently lift his hand and place it on the skin that he’s looking at, you hear him gulp, audibly.

So he does want to touch you. Interesting.

You know for a fact Eddie’s not a virgin. Back in high school, you’d both dated around your respective circles, gossip surrounding escapades in the Munson Van circulating back to you through mutual friends. When he’d asked you out a few months previous, you’d happily accepted, wanting to take full advantage of your interim gap year from college. For the first few weeks, you’d chalked his near-celibate behavior up to nerves.

But now, you’ve got him squirming with just a thigh touch. So maybe… he’s waiting for you to make the first move?

Fuck testing the waters- you’re gonna dive in head-first.

You swing your leg over his lap, kneeling on the outside of his hips. His hands automatically go to your waist, and he lets out a little “Oh” as you rest your arms around his shoulders.

“You gonna kiss your girlfriend?” you whisper, forehead crushing into his bangs as you wrap a hand around the back of his neck.

Eddie looks up at you like he’s seeing a full moon for the first time, eyes sparkling with want. “Yeah,” he rasps, angling his face up to kiss you.

It’s soft, at first, like it always has been. His plush lips softly move against yours, breaking for air once, twice; when he kisses you with that same softness for a third time you press your tongue to the seam between his lips.

He lets you in with a little noise, low in the back of his throat as you lick into his mouth. His hands twitch on your hips as your tongues twine, slight movements in his own hips creating a ripple effect.

When the hard seam of his jeans bumps against the warmth of your cunt, you both gasp, your hand at the back of his neck tightening.

“We should probably, um-” he’s panting against your mouth, grip flexing between hard and soft- “I mean, if you wanna stop…”

“I don’t wanna stop. Do you wanna stop?” you ask, equally out of breath.

“Fuck no,” he rasps again, in that smoke-salt voice, and this time when he kisses you it’s with one hand at the back of your head and the other pulling your hips to meet his.

The noises from the wet slide of your mouths are turning you on more than you care to admit, and you’re sure he can feel the damp patch that’s soaking through your panties as the crotch of his jeans make contact again. Which normally would make you feel really self-conscious, if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie’s hard as a rock underneath you, the bulge in his pants thickening with each roll of your hips.

You drop your kisses down, exploring where you haven’t been able to before: against his cheek, his jaw, stopping just behind his ear. Unable to help yourself, you graze your teeth against the velvet skin there, and he jolts beneath you with a small yelp.

“Sorry,” you whisper, still a touch mirthful but soothing your tongue over the mark.

Eddie brushes his thumb across the back of your neck as you continue your path down the column of his throat. “Now who’s sayin’ sorry for no reason. Baby, I’m begging you to do that again.”

So you do, this time at the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, grinning against his skin when he groans and bucks his hips up.

Around your hickey-making, he’s choking out words that you just manage to string together. “I wanna… make you feel- christ, sweetheart- good too, wanna make it good for you-”

When you sit up to see his face, he looks absolutely wrecked- rosy flush in his cheeks, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, pupils blown so big his eyes are nearly black with lust.

“You are making me feel good,” you assure him, pulling the hand he’s got on your neck down to where the end of your skirt sits, pausing before your next move. “You want me to prove it?”

He nods, and you guide him into the warmth of your thighs, letting his fingers graze the stickiness that’s been steadily soaking through the fabric.

Eddie inhales sharply, moans out, “Fuck, honey”, and when his thumb finds your clit you sink down into his touch, stomach tightening with the shock of arousal coursing through you.

He’s watching your face intently as he slowly circles your clit, gauging your reactions, pressing in a bit harder and faster when the pace change makes you cry out.

Feeling doubly exposed with his eye contact and hand against your core, you try making a joke to diffuse some of the tension as the pad of his finger moves against you in steady rhythm. “Still thinkin’ about stopping?”

“A train could crash through that wall and it wouldn’t stop me for a second,” Eddie says, resolute and getting a little braver, kissing his own path across your throat, nibbling at a spot that makes your clit pulse beneath his fingertip and your cunt clench around nothing.

Goddamn, he’s a quick learner. In less than two minutes he’s got you so close to the edge, squirming around his touch, that you have to grab his wrist and still his fingers between your thighs.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. You can feel his breath punching up down up, your breasts pushed up against his chest from the way your body was trying to coil in on itself.

“Nothing,” you assure him, and now it’s your turn to falter around your words. “I just- maybe can I… I wanna get o-off at the same time. If you want. And I’m really, really close.”

Eddie’s head falls back against the couch with a thunk, eyes scrunching shut as if in concentration, a strung-out whine leaving his throat. “Hang on. Give me a second.��

He’s still got his hand on your clothed pussy, and you can’t help but giggle once he blinks back to the present, dazed- “Christ. You can’t say shit like that, baby, I almost came in my jeans.”

You give him a condescending little pout, accented with another twist of your hips. “Well maybe that’s what I want.”

“Give you anything,” Eddie replies, unabashedly babbling now as you adjust yourself in his lap. “Anything you want, sweetheart. It’s yours. All yours.”

He helps you maneuver into a new angle: now, your drenched core can rub freely against his thigh, while your knee in the socket of his hip means he can rut his cock along the flat of your leg.

When you move experimentally in shallow circles on his thigh, the newly-gained friction lights up your throbbing clit. Soon, all pretenses melt away as you both find your rhythm again, little grunts and pants filling the air.

“Feel good, angel? That’s it,” Eddie encourages, slipping his hand under your skirt to grope at the meat of your ass, helping your movements along as he chases his own pleasure with a rocking grind against your leg. “Take what you need. Lemme get you there. Please, please…”

His whines spur you on, one of your hands shooting out to clutch at the back of the couch beside his head while the other anchors itself on his opposing bicep. “Fuck, Eddie, keep talking like that, ‘m so close…”

“Talk to you all day,” he heaves out, “you make me so fucking hard, princess. You feel how hard I am for you? God, you’re so wet, that’s so fucking hot…”

You should have expected that bravado and charm you’ve seen these last few years to naturally be carried over into his sex life, but god, not in your wettest of dreams could you have imagined the mouth on him.

The combination of his dirty talk and thigh between your legs is bringing you right up to that edge again, toes curling in anticipation, cunt starting to flutter erratically with every thrust.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come…” your head rolls back on its hinge, eyes flickering shut as Eddie fumbles to catch at your clit again, movements becoming sloppy.

“C’mon, pretty baby, let go.” He’s sucking another mark into your neck between his praises, teeth catching- “Let me see you come, honey, be a good girl for daddy…”

“Jesus FUCKING christ” is all you manage to grit out before you’re tipping over the edge into orgasm, all your muscles bearing down into the bright point of pleasure, high sob winding its way from your throat.

Eddie keeps kneading at your spasming clit as you ride it out on his thigh, even as he lets out a series of short, keening whimpers, even as his cock jerks against your leg into his own release.

You sag into his waiting arms, tittering lightly against his neck as you both work on catching your collective breaths.

“Holy shit, and I was really starting to think you actually didn’t want to fuck me.” You laugh in relief.

His hand pauses mid-stroke up the slope of your back, sounding genuinely aghast when he asks “Why the fuck would you think that?”

You straighten in his arms with an incredulous stare. “Uh, maybe because you acted like a monk that I was corrupting every time I even breathed near you?”

Eddie covers his eyes with his hands, heels to sockets, groaning- “Fuck, honey, I was tryn’a be respectful. You’re telling me we could’ve been doing this sooner?”

You reach to soothe your palms over the length of his forearms, equally fond and serious when you say “I’m telling you I absolutely would have slept with you on the first date.”

He makes a strangled, pained noise before you continue- “You described to me in detail the entire mating cycle of a bat, and then walked directly into a trash can by accident. How did you expect me to wait on jumping your bones?”

He lets you take his hands, enveloping them in your own and bringing them to your chest, pressing your lips affectionately to each ring.

He whispers, “Can I ask you something?”

When you look up at him again, he says, with sincerity, “Can I see your tits next time?”

You hide your laughter into the crook of his neck.

________

guys i cannot stress how high I am is this even any good plz perceive me

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #e.m. thots from lu #drabble #smut #mdni

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