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strangerstilinski · 2 months ago

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𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: eddie in blue jeans. eddie leaking in blue jeans. eddie cumming in blue jeans. that's it, that's the fic. [ 2.9k ]

𝗰𝘄: reader with a vagina & breasts, 1 occurrence where reader refers to themselves as a girl, overuse of italics probably, other than that we just have heaping doses of heavy petting, grinding, and kissing. oh! and a certain someone cumming in his pants ofc

𝗮/𝗻: imo the second half of this is where i reaaally shined, ok? there's just... something so *clenches fist* about eddie who's so turned on by you that he's stupid with it. anyway, thank you for reading! xx and remember to reblog to make eddie cum <3

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖𝟏𝟖+ 𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

The curls at the nape of Eddie's neck are damp where they tangle around your fingers. His breath rolls out in hot waves against your tongue, full, split-slick lips moving eagerly against your own. Eddie is kissing you like he thinks he might die without the taste of you, fervent and hungry and seemingly determined to stake some sort of claim on your mouth.

You've only been at it for five minutes but, seriously, how in the hell did normal people ever make it through an entire evening without devouring their date? Either they are far stronger than you, or it's the power of something you'd simply dubbed The Eddie Munson Effect.

Regardless, you're feeling beyond desperate.

Because you'd had to watch every single stumbling step Eddie made throughout the evening as he quite literally tripped over his own feet in a rush to open doors for you. He'd done so with all of his usual awkward charm, arm extended with gentlemanly grandeur — and on one occasion, he'd even bent at the waist into an adorably courteous little bow as he'd waited for you to step through. Each time, his hand found the small of your waist, and while he would linger a second longer than was strictly necessary, his touch always remained polite and comforting, never bleeding into the possessive brand that you'd noticed beneath the hands of men in the past.

Then again, every brush of Eddie's fingers over the course of the evening had sent sparks down your spine.

There'd been one moment, when the wind had caught the hem of your skirt and sent it billowing up — you'd felt the cool air rush all the way up to the sliver of tummy above your underwear — but Eddie's hands had been quick to find your waist, smoothing the fabric back down over your thighs and holding it there for a beat. Thick fingers and clunky silver rings had hesitated on your hips until the breeze died down, and then Eddie's face had gone red in a way that had little to do with the chill in the air, and entirely more to do with the sudden realization of how close you were, how intimate the brush of his pinky was against the warm skin at the back of your thigh.

And you absolutely had to take into account the condition in which he'd showed up on your doorstep. With a crisp white tshirt tucked neatly into the waistband of light-wash jeans. His hair shining lightly with gel, curls coiled in slightly neater than usual ringlets. With his jaw shaved smooth, and his skin smelling sharply of a rich, woodsy aftershave or cologne that gave you butterflies every time you breathed in.

Then there was the way each and every hearty chuckle that he'd let out over the course of the evening had curled in your ears and proceeded to pool pleasantly in your gut. The way every dramatic story retelling had left you fully enraptured right from the start. The way every dimpled grin had practically sucked the air straight from your lungs. And your ever-deepening feelings for him had only solidified with each of his stuttered attempts to accept your compliments.

All evening long, you'd been eager to fast-forward, to get right here. Home, on your couch, thighs splayed wide over the cradle of Eddie's lap, skin flushed with heat, with your skirt rucked up and your sweater steadily slipping down your shoulder.

And now that you're here, Eddie's hands have undertaken the impossible task of clutching at every part of you at once. Ringed fingers rake down your back only to grab ahold of your ass to drag you more heavily into his lap. Your teeth catch on his lower lip when he forces your hips to roll in a staggered rhythm, shaky thrusts driving his own hips up and slotting the bulge in his jeans just where you needed it to relieve some of the pressure between your thighs.

You both gasp into the kiss at the friction that the poorly-synchronized movements are making. The rough chafe of his zipper and denim against the cotton of your panties is only just shy of being too much. It's delicious.

"Y-your roommate-" Eddie pulls away to stutter against your cheek.

"Out." You supply in a rush before your mouths are crashing together again like magnets.

Eddie makes a small noise in the back of his throat, a satisfied sort of drawn-out groan that has your head spinning. You can still taste the lingering traces of the cigarette he'd smoked during the short walk back to his van, and the breath mint that he'd popped into his mouth immediately after. The mingling flavors are enough to give you a headrush. As if the combination of mint and nicotine were absorbing straight into your bloodstream merely from licking it from his mouth. But, maybe that has more to do with the way Eddie is kissing you-

Eddie seems to approach kissing with the same over-abundance of heart and enthusiasm that he does with literally everything else. Plush lips work against your own, smoothly encouraging your mouth open for him every time you dare to draw back for a quick breath. It's a perfect give and take, an intoxicating push and pull that you had zero qualms about getting lost in.

This has always been your favorite part of foreplay. The slow-building desperation. The shared breaths. The wandering hands. The heated teasing that you felt pulsing in your clit and all the way down to your toes. It's something you normally relish in drawing out as long as possible, until your panties are soaked through and your lips are sore, but, fuck-

You can feel how hard Eddie is growing beneath you. The warmth of his cock burns all the way through his jeans until you swear you can feel it against your cunt and inner thighs— Until you swear you can nearly distinguish the sheer heat of the blood swelling his erection from the less-oppressive warmth emanating from his legs. And when his mouth trails down the line of your jaw to kiss and nip at your throat, you can't help but attempt to sneak a peek at the arousal you've drawn out of him.

The sight doesn't disappoint.

His bulge stretches all the way from the bottom of the zip on his jeans and across the crease of his thigh. The obvious curve of his shaft straining against its tight confines stretches across his left thigh and then tapers out at the head of his cock—Jesus, he’s huge—and if you squint, you think you might even be able to make out a small spot, no more than the size of pea, where the light wash denim looks just a bit, well, wet. And, holy shit.

It's drool-worthy. It's so hot. Your mouth might genuinely be watering just looking at it-

Oh, god. You really needed to kiss him just a little longer. You were certainly not about to be the girl who drops to their knees to suck a guy's dick within ten measly minutes of getting through the front door on a first goddamn date. That would be ridiculous.

You'd make it at least twenty, surely — Maybe fifteen.

In the meantime, more kissing. And that would be all too easy with the way Eddie's hands slip lower along the curve of your ass as he finds your mouth again. His fingers burying deeper into your flesh, rings biting with a sharp pinch that makes you keen and release an encouraging moan.

There's a fire building behind your clit with every drag of your hips. You feel deranged beneath the haze of your lust, but Eddie only seems to be matching your need every step of the way.

You've never seen him quite so out of control. So desperate, and God it's a beautiful sight.

Eddie's spine arches forward from the back of the couch to push his chest to your own. Your hips stutter, driving down against the bulge in his jeans. The hard line of his cock wedges neatly at your center, fighting against the oppressive barrier of your underwear and his jeans. Dull as it is, it gives the barest hint as to what it would be like to have him actually pressing into your aching cunt, stretching you out.

Just the thought makes your hips buck, little rolls of your hips re-doubling in effort. The pressure against your entrance has you whining pitifully as Eddie's tongue strokes over yours. One of those gorgeous, wide palms of his moves up to your jaw to hold your face steady as he attempts to swallow up your sounds.

"Eddie." You pant brokenly, a plea. Because you're trying, really, but fuck. If you didn't get him inside of you — in one way or another — in the next few minutes, you very well might lose your mind.

Your fingers wind tighter into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp in that soft way that makes Eddie's cock jump in his pants.

The noises you're making..

They're better than any song Eddie has ever heard in his entire life, high and needy and so fucking hot. Every little sound has Eddie's thighs flexing beneath you in an attempt to keep his erection pressed snug to your cunt, to push the intoxicating ebb and flow that the two of you have going over into something more. Into a constant, blissful friction.

Another minute of the heavy grind of your pussy over his lap has Eddie's cock twitching again, his balls tightening up and his brain growing too foggy to hold back the needy whimpers that rise in his own throat.

“Shit-” Eddie gasps, his voice gone raspy with need.

You murmur something in response that gets muffled by Eddie's lips and tongue. Something about wanting his cock on your tongue but also possibly inside your pussy — The details are unclear. Eddie has no idea which exactly you're angling toward, but he's ready to bust already and you're both still fully-clothed, so. He's just praying to Ozzy that he'll even make it that far.

He probably needs to take a breather, and really he's going to, but then your hips stutter and you let out the sweetest little moan and Eddie kind of goes dumb with it.

He's too far gone to hear the telltale rattle of keys against your front door, or the click of the lock that has your own head snapping up toward the doorway in surprise. You stiffen above him, your ass driving down against his cock as your movements come to a halt and your weight drops heavily into his lap.

And shit, he'd already been fucking throbbing in his jeans. The new pressure on his erection is just too much.

A small noise of shock and pleasure tears from Eddie's throat, a pathetic sounding thing that makes your cunt clench around absolutely nothing and a rush of arousal soak the cotton of your panties. His lips part beneath your own unmoving ones, his jaw gone slack around the broken moan that falls into the heat of your mouth.

Eddie's hips buck up sharply, fingers biting meanly into your hips as warmth floods his briefs, cock twitching and eyes rolling back as he shakes through the quick waves of his orgasm. His brain is pure static, ears ringing with such strength that your nervous laugh and stammered greeting sound far off despite you being pressed so close to him. Everything sounded just a bit like he was underwater.

His head clears a little as you brace your hands on his shoulders and push yourself up, his eyes popping open as the distance between you grows and the warmth of your body disappears altogether. You're smiling awkwardly, laughing despite yourself, with your gaze locked somewhere over his shoulder as you attempt to smooth out the wrinkles in your skirt — and then Eddie finally processes the sound of Robin's voice in the entryway behind him.

Oh. Oh, fuck.

Eddie's heart had already been beating heavily, but suddenly he swears he can feel each and every rhythmic pump of the blood in his veins. The strength of it makes his pulse thump so violently in the hollow of his throat that his eye might've been twitching in time with each beat.

His gaze drops to his lap, where, to his horror, light blue denim is already a few shades darker. His cum is already soaking through his underwear and very, very quickly spreading into a wider, far more noticeable wet patch, and Jesus fucking Christ, this cannot be happening to him-

He tugs at his pant-leg desperately in an attempt to draw the fabric away from where the cum had pooled in the crease of his pelvis and then dripped steadily down the length of his thigh, but it's too late.

He'd come.. so hard. And so much. His pants are stretched too fucking tight because he's sitting and you'd just rung out every last fucking drop of cum from his balls with your pretty pussy rubbing over his lap again and again and-

Robin's muffled curse breaks through his inner-turmoil, followed by the loud thud of something heavy landing on the kitchen counter behind him. Eddie turns sideways in his seat to find Robin with flushed cheeks and sweat beading on her brow, her arms draped limply around a large television set. She's panting exaggeratedly, mouth running a mile a minute as she regales the story of the older couple on the first floor who had upgraded to a 35-inch and offered up their old console for, quote: “Twenty bucks! A goddamn steal, you guys-!”

The two of you are babbling excitedly back and forth, the front door to your apartment still hanging slightly ajar all the while. Eddie realizes, belatedly, that Robin must've carried the behemoth of a thing all the way upstairs by herself — How the hell had she even managed that?

“Eddie, would you mind giving her a hand with that while I clear a spot for it over here?” You delegate gleefully as you flutter back into the living room to do just that.

You rush to the console table against the far wall and quickly begin shuffling things around to make space for your new possession, stacking books and knickknacks and sliding the clunky record player as close to the edge as you can manage.

“Oh, uh..”

Eddie smacks his lips once, eyes dropping from you to the gargantuan fucking wet patch stretched across his thigh. While he's reluctant to dig his own grave, he fears he has no other choice.

“-Well.. To that 'm gonna have'ta say..”

He swallows and gives a nod to himself in resolve, a burst of air pushing past his nose as he snatches his jacket from the floor beside the couch and uses it to shield the focal point of his embarrassment, avoiding looking back toward Robin completely.

“Shit, uh.. Nope. No, sorry."

Your movements falter at his response, an amused little smile tugging at the corners of your eyes as you regard him, “No?”

You laugh, like you're waiting for Eddie to clue you in on the joke.

Of fucking course Eddie had opted to wear a pair of light wash Levis for your date tonight instead of black. Because now? There is no way in hell you and Robin won't see the evidence of his predicament the moment it's no longer hidden behind his leather jacket.

If you see the way he'd shot off in his pants like a horny teenager from nothing but a little bit of kissing, Eddie is certain he'll never get a second date — Not to mention the constant ribbing he'd be destined to get for the rest of his Goddamned life from everyone else.

There's no way that Buckley won’t tell Harrington — with the weird and questionably platonic friendship the two of them had fallen into at some point around the time they'd graduated high school. And Harrington will, of course, inevitably spill the beans to Dustin. And then Dustin's loud mouth would manage to somehow tell absolutely everybody else in Eddie's life.

He is so fucked.

“Yeah, sorry, I gotta bounce, actually-” Eddie fights back a cringe, bounce-? What the fuck is he even saying? “I, uh, I forgot I have a.. A thing.”

He can't quite hold back a wince then, at the sound of his own excuse in his ears. He's usually a lot better on his toes than this, but he's fucking floundering all of a sudden.

It's because of you — it has to be because of you. You and your pretty eyes that are slowly narrowing in confusion and maybe a little bit of hurt. You and your angelic little voice, pushing out with a soft, “Oh.”

But then you're nodding, a weak smile pasting on your lips to cover that flash of sadness he'd seen. You tell Robin you'll be back to help her in a moment and walk Eddie to the door, arms brushing as your gaze remains focussed on the scuffed floorboards.

You're being sweet, because of course you are. You thank him for a wonderful date, tell him you'll call him, even lean in to press a delicate little kiss to his cheek that Eddie definitely doesn't feel like he deserves.

When the door closes behind him, it sends a rush of air hurtling toward Eddie smelling distinctly of you. Like your perfume, and the spice of the candle sitting on your kitchen counter, and the sweetness of your shampoo. The scent makes Eddie's head swim with regret and his cock twitch weakly in his pants.

Yeah, he's definitely fucked.

#why yes i did end this in an unnecessarily ambiguous and slightly angsty way that leaves things open for a potential part two 😁#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #stranger things smut #*

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specsthesecond · 1 month ago

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°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°

The sunlight tries in vain to pierce through the cloud covered sky as you make your way under the canopy of conifer trees. Winter will only last a few more weeks but for now you must trudge through the hardened snow on the forest ground.

You clutch your new book close to your chest, peeking again to see if the piece of paper you slipped between the pages hasn't somehow fallen out despite your tight grip. You look up from your graphite stained fingers to the stone cottage in the middle of an increasingly familiar meadow. Drawing in a breath, you adjust the bow and quiver slung over your shoulder and clamber through the pasture, watching smoke rise from the old chimney.

This time, you don't panic when you reach the door, you knock before the nerves can even seep in. He opens the door for you, eyebrows scrunched in confusion just like the first time. He looks ready for the weather outside, snow boots, axe in hand, he's even wearing his big fur coat. He clearly had other plans today but he still looks pleasantly surprised by your presence and gestures you inside.

You shake your head lightly at him, feet stuck to the stone veranda. He looks more worried than confused now as he looks down at the book in your hands, you try and not let all the determination you just had flutter away. Hands shaking more than you'd like, you slip the piece of paper out of the book and hand it to him unceremoniously. You can't will yourself to watch his reaction, it's weak but you can't seem to look away from the floor.

A shame really, because if you were watching, you'd see his face grow pink in real time as he reads in your terribly scrawled Orcish -

"Hunt with me?"

He has to read it ten times before he can believe it's real. He looks down at you and then back to the poorly drawn Orcish characters, mouth agape. He turns to the shelf next to the door and gently places the piece of paper there before turning to you. You fiddle with the book in your hands, biting your chapped lip. He rests his hand on your shoulder making you look him in the eye, when you do you're taken back by the look he gives you. It's an expression you can't describe, appreciative doesn't cut it but you wouldn't dare say affectionate.

He nods his head firmly.

Now you both sit amongst the brush, target birds nest only a few meters away. Your Orc friend sits quietly, leaning on a stump next to you, waiting for you to make the shot.

Little movements in the nest have you tensing up and pulling the string back. You wait patiently for the birdie to peak its head over the weaved twigs of the nest but you wait too long and before you know it the bird's wings flutter for takeoff. You panic and shoot the arrow before the bird can fly away but the arrow shoots just a bit too high, piercing the tree trunk as the bird takes flight in a rush of feathers.

An agitated sigh leaves you and you turn towards where the Orc roars out laughter. He quickly tries to muffle his laugh when he sees your pointed, deadpan expression. You point towards where your arrow is stuck in the bark of the tree and hold out your bow for him. He goes to decline the offer but you fix him with a challenging glare that says "If it's so easy then why don't you do it?" You shove the weapon in his hands and hand him an arrow as well, then take a seat on the stump.

He breathes in and positions himself on his knees, just like you were. You sit back and watch him fumble with the bow, failing to notch the arrow against the string for a while before finally aiming the thing. He makes the bow looks so small, it's like a thin stick in his hands instead of a deadly weapon. He pulls the string back and you worry for a moment that it might snap before he lets go and the arrow whizzes through the air and into the canopy of pine needles, never to be seen again.

You burst out in laughter, slapping your knee with a hand on your chest. He huffs and hands you back your bow, grabbing his axe from the stump. He aims it carefully and chucks it into the tree. It lands exactly where your arrow landed, splintering it into pieces. You're shocked to silence for a moment before letting out an impressed "Huh". He seems very proud of himself, giving you a cheeky bow, making you click your tongue and shake your head as he walks off to pull his axe from the tree.

He slumps beside you on the frosty dirt as you hastily page through your book. It's a shame you don't see how he leans his head on his hand and stares at you, not even trying to hide the admiration. When you find the word you were looking for you slap his arm hard with the book, he flinches back playfully. You point to the word "owe" in the book and look at him sternly.

He looks back with a blank stare.

You point to him accusingly, point to the Orcish word for "owe" and then point to yourself before getting an arrow out of your quill, pointing towards it and putting up two fingers.

You think he gets it, if his bashful face says anything. He rubs the back of his neck with an apologetic look. He stands up, axe in hand and nods to you with a look of determination.

Now the sun is gone as you walk alongside him, on route to your home, belly full, carrying a basket of fresh bread. You tried telling him you were only teasing, but he insisted on taking you back home and making you a meal. You were never one to turn away a meal, especially if it was his cooking. Hours went by as you sat in his living room, comparing translations in each other's books and trying, mostly in vain, to write in the others language. You didn't even notice the sun setting until you had to light a candle to see the scribbled mix of Human Common and Orcish on the white papers scattered across the table.

He offered to walk home with you and you, once again, didn't put up much of a fight. Maybe it's just the moonlight or the after-taste of his food but you can't stop stealing glances at the orc as he walks alongside you. His dark eyes reflect the warm light of the lantern so beautifully. Little flakes of snow decorate his hair, they look like stars amongst the inky black mane. You can feel his body heat more than you can feel the heat of the lantern, he's always so warm and it makes it very frustrating to be close to him. He looks over and catches you staring, you quickly avert your gaze to the snowy ground, embarrassment bubbling up again.

You come to a break in the trees and all your thoughts are slapped away. You stare fear-stricken at the massive lake in front of you. A deep chill crawls over you as it always does when you see it now, you meant to avoid it entirely, just like you've been doing since the incident but you must have been more distracted than you thought.

Frost nips at your nerves as you stare at the deceptively thin ice covering the lake and remember the cold, dark depths just beneath. Remembering how difficult it was just to breathe after being plunged into those waters, like spikes of ice piercing your lungs with every breath. You clutch your chest as your breathing quickens, ghosts of pain nudging closer.

Your sight is cut off from the lake by a dark brown furcoat. You look up at the worried face of your friend, eyebrows scrunched and frown deep. His pretty eyes are now filled with concern and it only makes the pain in your chest worse. You turn away from him, you can't look him in the eyes like this. This has happened before, when you wake up in your bed cold and crying. At least then you're alone, now you're outside, in the dark, with who is essentially your closest friend watching you break down.

If he didn't think you were weak before, he definitely does now. You let out a choked sob as your legs crumble beneath you. The orc falls with you, he lightly holds you closer, hands just brushing your shoulders. He clearly doesn't know what to do or what the boundaries are for something like this, and neither do you really.

He's right there. You can feel how damn warm he is, you just want to give in, why won't you let yourself give in? His gloved hands gently urge you to look up at him and you struggle against it but when you eventually meet his gaze, his expression punctures right through the cold panic. You expected to see pity but what you get instead is plain tender worry. He looks ready to help but he's waiting for instruction, like he'll do anything you ask him to, even in your state.

You wipe your cold, wet cheeks and push your head into his chest hard, clutching his waist under his coat in the tightest squeeze you can manage. He squeezes you back and you finally get to feel his warmth surround you again, just like that first night. His body surrounds you, like he's trying to protect you from the cold night air itself. The hug is just tight enough that it encourages you to breathe slower, you can hear and feel his heart beating in his chest and you press your face even closer to his chest to hear it better.

Eventually, your breathing and heart beat evens out with his, only letting out the occasional hiccup. Even then, he doesn't loosen his protective hold until you shift to stand up. He helps you up and you meet his gaze, his dirt coloured eyes hold something you can't place. His hand shifts up from your arm to your cheek to warm the puffy skin. You don't think when you take his hand in yours and hold it against your cheek, even through the leather of his glove you can feel his body heat.

You close your eyes and savour his touch for a minute before turning around and pulling on his arm. You hold onto his hand for the rest of the walk home, only letting go when you reach your front door. You both try and decipher the others gaze for longer than you should've until you wrap your arms around his shoulders in another embrace. He reciprocates, hands winding around your back, breathing into your shoulder. You whisper, "Be safe" into his ear and retreat from the hug, missing his warmth the second it leaves you. If he knows what it means, he doesn't show it.

You watch him leave from the front door, basket of bread in hand. When he turns to give you a little wave goodbye, you return it with a smile. You only step inside when he's out of site, lamp light disappearing amongst the trees.

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°

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#felt like reader physically got over the whole hypothermia thing too quickly so gave her mental damage to make up for it 😁😁#this one has pacing issues but don't mind that haha #monster x human #monster x reader #monster lover #orc romance #terato #orc x reader #orc boyfriend #orc x human #monster boyfriend #monster fucker #fem reader #fem!reader

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