#i wanna take care of him :(((( | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eddieschains · 2 years ago

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i love him your honor

Incarnadine - E.M

Warnings ® angst, fluff, SMUT, you suck him off<3 Established relationship, mentions of injury, scars, Eddie has nightmares and is still recovering from the Upside Down, lots of reassurance and praise, he's needy but he will never admit it, this story involves wounded Eddie, you show him how beautiful he really is, no matter what <3 good boy! Eddie

Today marks five months exactly. Chatter still moves around town like an echo of an old friend. People are still nervous when they're in crowded spaces, even more nervous when they're alone in their homes, big and ostentatious or small and quaint. They still talk about him like he's a monster, like he's not a victim.

It's excruciating. And maybe you're selfish for saying that, but knowing what you know, it's hard to hear anything negative come out of any snooty or high strung suburban residents mouth's.

The only saving grace is being able to be with him. Everyday, give or take. But this week he will be under your care entirely. After what happened to Chrissy Cunningham, and what happened after, which is regarded as 'the incident', the town of Hawkins did nothing to cover Eddie's medical bills. Despite the fact that he and your friends became faces of a bullshit cover story - to save everyone else's asses.

Wayne has been doing doubles for the past four months and twenty nine days, but his boss has given him an out of town gig that pays twice as much, and goddamn it he will make everything right again. That's his words, not yours. Wayne has taken it hard, understandably so.

You had to explain to him, and your boyfriend alike, that you love Eddie. Dearly, without judgement, with an open heart and mind. Eddie isn't a pass off, and you making sure he's alright is second nature, not obligatory in any definition of the word.

Eddie hates this feeling, admittedly. Like he's a burden, like he's got to be watched after and like everyone has to redirect their lives for him of all people. You'd kill him if he ever said that out loud. The only thing that makes it even remotely worth it, is that you're the one here by his side every day. And not just at the hospital anymore, but here, in his home.

Now, you're gonna be a permanent resident for the foreseeable future and he can't hide his excitement despite the physical pain he's in.

"Eddie, Eds, baby -" Your scolding falls on deaf ears and turns into a full blown giggle before you're able to establish any actual authority. The brunette is too worried about kissing your face like an overly excited golden retriever, elated that you're finally here. "you're not healed."

You keep your eyes from staring at the mauve and plum colored scar that decorates the side of his neck.

He groans petulantly, nipping your earlobe. His chest and back and sides are still on fire after all this time. It doesn't really go away, it just simmers down like someone has stopped on the flames. He's gotten used to it, but not enough to push it. Not enough to forego your advice and pounce you like he normally would.

"l probably won't ever be healed, what harms' a little lovin'?" He toys with the strands of your hair that are unruly, smiling down at you like he hasn't been through the literal pits of hell and back. It'll never not amaze you, his resilience. He doesn't even notice it in the creases of his smile lines or the shake of his hands.

"We have plenty of time for lovin', Munson. Just not right away. I haven't even gotten a good look at your pretty face."

His blush burns across his nose, cheeks, and brow bone. You reach up to cup his jaw, to stroke his skin. He leans into the touch like he hasn't felt your warmth in eons, sighing through his nostrils. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, and opens them when you lean in to kiss his chin.

"I really...I'm glad you're here. You don't have to -"

You flick his nose.

"Shut up, I love you, dummy. Don't you know that I practically begged Wayne to let me tend to sweet little Eddie? Hmm?" You've grabbed two thick handfuls of his hair, swinging it above his head like puppy dog ears. He chortles, scrunching his face.

"and by the way, you're right. I don't have to do anything. I want to." His cheeks are squishy and moldable between your palms, lips pouty and too kissable to bear.

He believes you. He believes it in the way you peck his mouth over and over again, little strings of your shared saliva in the middle. He believes it in the way you allow him to wrap his arms around your middle and pull you close to his still healing body. In the way you trust him enough to let him grab your hands and place them on his waist.

You tense, and then relax when he pulls away with sparkles in his eyes.

"Just didn't want anyone else to be here playin' doctor with me, did ya sweetheart?"

The nights always start the same. Eddie gets up halfway between the movie that's on, wincing and giving you an apologetic smile. Cold showers help when they burn, which seems to happen mostly at night. You're still new this, to the interdimensional eldritch horror situation - but you know enough about it through Dustin Henderson's graphic retellings to know that it is having some residual effects.

As far as when they will go away, if they go away, everyone is still in the dark about it. No one has had such awful injuries from being in the Upside Down, and survived.

Doctor Owens is only sure about a few things. It won't spread. And it won't kill him. However, the pain will stay as long as the scars do.

Eddie is still apprehensive about letting you see them. The one on his neck is the only one that's visible. Instead of waltzing out of the bathroom with just a towel around his lithe hips, he returns fully dressed, wet hair drenching the tops of his broad shoulders. It's like this for almost an entire week.

And you're not angry, you're not hurt. You're just worried. Worried about the tossing and turning in his sleep, the fearful whimpers that sometimes escape him during the midnight hours. He sometimes even clings to you so hard in his half consciousness, that you wake up with fingerprint shaped bruises.

Tonight is no different.

His hair is still damp against his pillow case, he wriggles and writhes and mutters words you can't quite interpret. Your back is facing his, warm and solid. You feel him twitch and whine, and it tears you from the half conscious state you're in.

You roll over, carefully placing your arm around the expanse of his hip, resting your nose against the nape of his neck. This usually calms him down, sometimes he even sleeps through the whole night if you hold him like this.

"Burns..." His voice is small, almost silent. Your body reacts instantly, removing itself from his proximity so you can sit up and give him a once over. He rolls over onto his back, and a tear slips from the corner of his half opened eyes.

Your heart cracks in half, and all of your love for him spills into your body, lighting you up like a bonfire.

"What can I do? Please, tell me what to do." The lump in your throat is obtuse. He reaches out, grabbing at your arm like he's offended you left him. He blinks a few times, licks his lips, and you know he's awake now.

"Ice pack - there's an ice pack in the freezer." He sounds reluctant, like the idea of you doing anything for him when he's like this, hurts. It should be the other way around. He thinks to himself. He's in too much pain to put up a fight about it.

You bound out of bed, around his long legs and over the clutter on his floor until you're booking it towards the dark kitchen. Slinging open the freezer, you search for a quick minute until you see the blue ouch sitting atop a miscellaneous selection of frozen meat and vegetables.

A Hershey's bar in the door calls for your attention, but you save that thought for a later time.

"Got it," you breathe out, returning to the quiet room. Eddie is sitting up, panting, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched. His bottom lip quivers and you feel like you're breaking in half. You sit across from him, moving his hair out from in front of his face. "baby, let me see."

He stalls for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling. He has to prepare himself for the worst, for you being so terrified of how he looks now that you may run. He isn't the same, his body isn't the same as the one you touched before. He takes a deep breath.

"I gotta...gotta get this off." He gestures to his shirt, arms stiff from the searing pain coursing through his nerves. You move slowly, gently. You grasp the hem of his shirt, Black Sabbath, and carefully lift the material past his abdomen. A strained whine leaves his lips when it's almost over his head, when he has to lift his hands in the air so you can pull it off.

The moonlight is beautiful. A pale iridescent light that serves as a reminder, I'm here you're safe, I'm bathing lovers in my essence. It's the only thing that illuminates his body, the still healing skin. They're pink and purple and form ridges and valleys across his belly, sides, chest. It takes your breath away, the thought of those things doing this to him. You gasp when a tear cascades down your bottom lip.

Wiping it away fervently, you realize you've been staring. Eddie is so still you have to look up at him just to make sure he's still here.

Big brown eyes stare back at you, glossy. He looks crestfallen, like hes waiting for the worst. Waiting for you to scream, look disgusted, call him a monster. His bottom lip is wobbling again, and you are careful to avoid the injuries when you reach over and smash your lips into his.

It takes him a moment to realize that you're kissing him. Not just kissing him, you're fucking consuming him. Now he's the one breathless, clenching fist-fulls of his bed sheets while you hold his fevering face in your soft palms. Your noses are scrunched together, neither of you can breathe, and you hold it for just a moment longer so that you can taste his tongue before you're pulling away.

"Holy fuck." He pants. For some odd reason, the pain has lessened.

"Lay back, tell me which one hurts the most okay?" You say it like you his pupils aren't blown out, like his breathing isn't eerily steady. You say it like he isn't blush and kiss bitten. He listens, leaning back. How the fuck have you made him speechless?

You crawl beside him, sitting on your heels and pretend not to be disheveled. His hand has found purchase on your hip, rubbing circles against the skin that's exposed from your shirt rising up.

"The one in the middle...s'the worst." He watches you with intensity, every move, every breath. You hover over the healed wound with the blue ice pack. His belly tenses.

You're light with your hands. So gentle, all he feels is relief instead of discomfort or pain. The doctors had been rough, probably had something to do with their own biases. But you. You're a fucking angel, your touch is heavenly and all consuming. He's melting into the mattress, sighing in relief as the coolness graces his skin.

You feel your heart piecing back together, looking over to see his eyes half lidded, his tears dry. He keeps a steady pace with his thumb against your hip.

"Better? Worse? Talk to me." Your voice isn't scolding. It isn't judgmental. It's curious. He smiles like he's drunk, staring up at you. He's never looked more beautiful.

"Better, much better." There's a mischievous lilt in his tone. You quirk your eyebrow, giggling.

"What is it, Munson? You look like the cat who got the cream. Or however that goes," you trace the blue veins that branch outwards at the corner of his inner elbow. "it's cute, but I feel like I should be worried."

"I thought you'd think I was horrendous. A real freak show." He tries to sound like he's half joking, widens his eyes comically and snarls his lip sardonically - but you cock your head, confused.

Eddie thought you wouldn't love him anymore.

"Are you fucking insane?" It's the harshest you've sounded all night, and he can't help but to chuckle. It hurts his ribs, but the giggles bellow from him like smoke.

"Eddie, you're the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. I don't say that to blow sunshine up your ass, I say it because I mean it," you stroke his face, and he seems bewildered. "you're so pretty it hurts. You always will be, to me. How could I? Why would I-?"

You sound like you're on the verge of tears again, and his bones feel heavy, stomach churning. He sits up, disregarding the burn, and places his warm palms against the sides of your neck. You look at him like he's just said something inhumane.

"Baby, hey," he presses his forehead to yours. "I love you, I'm sorry."

You shake your head, his curls tickle your face. "You don't have to be sorry Eddie, of course not. Just...I love you so fucking much."

He wants to cry again, but he doesn't. He mouths the side of your cheeks. Your eyelids. The tip of your nose. "I love you too sweetheart," he pecks your mouth. "more...more than I'll ever really be able to say." And again. And again.

You probably shouldn't be as slick between your legs as you are right now. But you can't bring yourself to feel guilty about it. Not when he's kissing you like this, the way he knows you like, in a way that you haven't felt for three entire months because of the state his body has been in.

His hair billows through your fingers, and you absentmindedly pull him closer to your mouth by the roots. He groans in your mouth, a sound that reverberates through your throat, downwards behind your ribs. It flurries through your body like a memory that's so close you can taste it; feel it.

You pull back hastily, wired from the tips of your ears to the bottom of your feet. He looks so goddamn pretty, so messy and raw. You stroke his plump bottom lip with your thumb. He resists the urge to suck it into his mouth. He doesn't know if you're ready for that type of thing yet.

"I wanna suck you off, Eddie."

Well fuck.

He looks as incredulous as you expect, eyes practically bugging out of his head. His cheeks puff outwards when he lets a breath out.

"Really? You're serious?" He knows the answer. You're looking at him like he's the reason for your starvation.

"I want to...I want to make you feel good Eds," his cock was already growing, now it's practically bursting at the seams. You grab his big hands, bringing rough knuckles to the surface of your lips. "wanna make you cum. Will you let me? Do you want that?"

He feels a little dizzy. He honestly didn't know when you two would ever be able to do anything like this again. Hell, he couldn't fathom you liking his appearance anymore, let alone asking to suck his dick with the lilt of a beg in your voice.

"Jesus Christ, yeah baby 'course I want it. Y-you're sure you want this- ohh, ohh sweetheart."

You've already brought your palm to his pants, stroking the twitching appendage underneath. He's so touch deprived he doesn't know what to do with himself, so he settles for throwing his head back, gripping at the sheets once again for dear life.

You don't want to wait. You're set a fire on the inside, between your legs aches to be filled but you're too focused on making him feel good to really want anything done about it. Him. That's what matters right now. The desperate groan that escapes him, the vein bulging at his jugular.

"Lay back baby." You kiss his throat, and he does as you ask.

You're careful when you kiss his chest. You move around the scars, teetering around the perimeters. He's stuck between wanting to close his eyes, and wanting to watch every move you make. You're careful, delicate like he's the most important thing in the world.

As you kiss the trail of hair underneath his belly button, across alabaster hip-bones, you pull his bottoms off all the while.

From your position, it nudges against your chin when it's out of the confines of his pajamas, dribbling with precum, sticky all the way down the shaft. You coo, kissing the tops of his thighs. Eddie doesn't know what to do with himself. He's never felt this vulnerable, this fucking horny. His balls are about to burst.

"Eddie...you're so hard. Baby, mm, my boy." You grip the very base, starting your mouths ascent from there. He whimpers into the cool air of his bedroom, holding on by a very thin veil of consciousness. Your elbows rest between his thighs, belly stop his mattress. You close your eyes and hum when you get to the swollen, ruby tip.

"Oh god - please," he doesn't know what he's begging for. For your mouth, your being, your soul. His fingers grasp your face as your tongue gathers the pre arousal that's made such a mess of him. You have to hold his shaft steady so that the twitching doesn't move him away from your lips. "feels so fucking good, you've no idea."

The praise is getting to your head. You feel wetness leaking from your hole, dripping into your underwear. You pull his cock forward slightly, angling it so that you can take him in your mouth.

His whole body clenches when you slide it in.

He's moaning obscenities into the wind, writhing like he's too overwhelmed to think. He is. It's been so long. Too long, since he felt you like this. Since he felt your mouth. You're feeling the same sentiment as you begin to stroke what you can't fit, from the thatch of brunette hair to the glossy head. The salty aftertaste of his pre-cum keeps you satiated.

It's intoxicating, being able to make him feel like this. Feeling him fill your mouth and throat up like this. Just knowing the sounds he's making are not only for you but because of you - that's enough to have you on the verge of an indescribably neediness yourself.

"Taste' so good Eds, missed this."

It's barely coherent, but he knows your voice too well - knows your sweet talk too well. The most excruciating part is that you mean it, you say it with so much truth he feels it in every part of his body.

You suck him off like you've missed it as much as he has. Because you have. You're not shy, not ashamed. The sounds are lewd and sticky and wet, it's driving him fucking mad. He reaches down to grasp one of.your hands that are around his cock, replacing it with the intertwinement of his fingers.

You take him further, till the head of his cock touches your uvula, and you gag. Eddie groans like he's in pain, but you know he isn't. He's thrusting up into your mouth, chasing all of your warmth, all of your spit even though most of it has leaked from your mouth and coated his balls and inner thighs.

"Ohhhh shit, m'gonna cum baby I can feel it," he looks down, fucked completely out by this point. You're a fucking goddess, messy hair and a wet mouth and fluttering lashes. "don't stop, p-please."

You wouldn't dream of it, not when he's so close. Not when you can feel the muscles in his abdomen clenching, convulsing. Not when he sounds so pretty, so unbelievably yours.

You moan around him, elated by the fact that you're able to please him like this, and Eddie is a goner.

"Cu-cumming!" He's barely able to breathe it out.

He shoved his face into the pillow beside him, biting down on the fabric. The sound that rips through him is animalistic, and you have to use a good bit of your strength to keep his thighs parted as he spurts his seed into your mouth, down your throat.

You don't let up until you've swallowed every drop, every remnant of his arousal. His chest is rising and falling with such a rapid pace, you're almost worried you've hurt him.

But then he's looking down at you, with your mouth releasing from his semi softening cock. He's got glossy eyes again, blotches of red on his neck and chest and face. His hair is sticking to him like saran wrap and this big, dopey smile is etched across his face. His tongue darts out to lick the perspiration from his upper lip.

He doesn't have to ask for you to start moving towards him. When you're in close enough proximity, where he can actually manage to move a limb, he's grabbing your face and pressing your lips to his like a man starved.

Your giggle echoes his own.

"When I'm mobile again," he suckles your tongue, tasting himself.

"I'm showing you no mercy, sweetheart"

#fic recs #i need him so bad #i wanna take care of him

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