#virgin!eddie munson x fem!tutor!reader

[mrsjellymunson]

The Biology Tutor

Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Series masterlist

Prev parts: Lesson 1: Female anatomy Lesson 2: Male anatomy Extra Credits 01: Communication skills Extra Credits 02: French Independent Study 01: Art

Pairing: virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Series summary: Eddie’s failing Biology class, so you decide to offer two different styles of tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

Chapter summary: You reflect on your unexpected lunchtime study session.

WC: ~2.2k

C/W: 18+, SMUT, MDNI!! Lots of fantasies and intimate musings… Gracious and copious thanks to @the-unforgivenn for numerous rereads and talking me off the word soup precipice 😉

My masterlist

Thoughts of Eddie have been plaguing you all afternoon. You might as well have skipped classes for all the good your attendance did. You could barely concentrate on what any of your teachers were droning on about, your mind much preferring to conjure all kinds of salacious Eddie-related images.

Once at home you grab yourself a drink, throw your backpack down onto your bed and kick off your shoes, trying to figure out quite how to get that boy out of your head. Might journaling help?

Retrieving your notebook from your nightstand and your favourite pink pen, you flop down onto your front and begin to write.

Initially, you just want to reflect on your day and your unexpected ‘private time’ with Eddie. So you start to make some notes about how well the tutoring part went, how well he did, and yeah, okay, how goddamn cute he looked whenever he got a question right. You ponder why that felt so rewarding. Do you simply like helping people learn? Or is it more because you like being the reason that Eddie smiles?

You write a little about how sweet he was, and his obvious nerves when you first suggested you might kiss. How chaste, almost wholesome, it all started out. 

You add more detail, like how his lips felt as they connected with yours, and how it surprised you in the best possible way when he started to kiss you back. You remember how wet and messy everything was. How fucking hot. You scribble honestly about how much you enjoyed kissing him, how much you think he enjoyed kissing you, and how much you want to do it again. And you acknowledge that although it seems peculiar after everything you’ve already done, somehow, what you did today felt so much more… intimate.

You write almost an entire page about how strong but gentle his tongue was, how it felt as it slid into your mouth and around your own. How he started off slow, tentative, but then gained confidence. How, without being instructed, he started turning his head and moving his tongue experimentally, licking and sucking. And, to your delight, how he was getting it right so goddamn much of the time.

You add a little about what else you’d fantasised about Eddie doing with that tongue, but stop yourself before you go too far.

Okay, maybe just another couple of lines…

You write about how he surprised you when one one of his hands gripped the back of your neck and his other had pulled you closer. How that made you appreciate what latent strength might be stored in those wiry muscles. And how you’d wondered about whether it would feel warm if it cupped your face, and how you know the answer now. When he’d gently held the back of your head he was definitely warm, hot even, the heat of him searing into your memories and onto the page. Now, in your notebook, you muse what it would be like for him to touch you like that again, to cup your cheeks, look deep into your eyes. Would you want that? The frenzy with which you're writing suggests that yes, you might.

You mull over what else you’d thought about, like what it would be like to hold his hand. You ponder whether your palms would fit together nicely, and whether you’d be well matched, size-wise. Or would his be larger, swamping you, encompassing you. You think about his hot palm and thick fingers enveloping yours, your sensitive skin so very close. What would it be like to go out in public like this, watching everyone stare as they put the pieces together? Surprisingly, the thought doesn’t freak you out as much as it previously might have.

You note down how he’d whimpered and moaned, and how that made you think about all the ways you want to try to draw more of those beautiful sounds out of him. 

You describe how strong and defined the muscles of his back felt. And the size of the bulge in his pants that he was sporting when you pulled away. And add exactly how that made you feel, just to, you know, get it out of your head…

As you spill your innermost thoughts onto the page, you recall how you’d considered the texture of his calloused skin. But this time you allow your imagination free reign as you conjure Eddie’s strong, large hands and the rough feeling of his fingers as he runs them over your thighs, your back, your throat. You write about how much you want to feel them on your breasts, over your ass, in your cunt. How you want him to explore every inch of you, with both your guidance and his experimentation. You want to continue to teach him, of course, but you also want both of you to discover things together. 

Then, you write down that question he asked:

“So, uh, where do you want me?”

You describe the heat you’d felt, what it made you want to do, and how you’d vividly imagined taking Eddie in the study room. How much you’d wanted to perch him against the study room table and climb on top of him.

You describe how you’d pictured him, braced against the edge of the table. Shirt off, no pants, boxers discarded somewhere across the room. You wonder how he might look. Would his abs be tensed? Would his hip lines be prominent? How much detail of his tattoos would you be able to make out? 

Would he be instantly hard? Or would you be treated to the sight of his cock engorging as you watched, rising to full attention simply from your presence and the heat of your gaze? You imagine observing his pink head filling and swelling, maybe even leaking a little precum that would glisten under the fluorescent lights.

How would he look at you with those deep chocolate eyes? Would he be unsure, timid, nervous? Or would there be a hot hunger behind them, a primal lust that he wants only you to satisfy?

You’d be naked, but would you feel nervous and fold at his gaze, covering yourself and uncomfortable under his scrutiny? Or would you saunter towards him confidently, maybe with a finger at your lips, swaying your hips? Forcing him to wait as your body drifts agonisingly slowly closer and closer.

He might stutter over his words as you moved, babbling nonsense, filled with that delicious combination of fear and want that you find so alluring. Or he could be confident, beckoning you to him, spilling praises and pet names and whispers of adoration.

Would he be too scared to touch you, unsure and not knowing what to do with his hands? Or would he reach out for you and grab at your arm, your hip, your waist, any part of you he could reach, pulling you to him?

How would he smell after a day of physical activity, or even post PT? The aroma of weed, his cologne, that vanilla chapstick that you’re sure he must’ve stolen from someone? Musky, sweaty, masculine? You imagine what it would be like to lick the salt from the sensitive skin of his collarbones and neck, and humming as his heady male taste floods your senses. Would he whimper softly at this, or groan with satisfaction?

You’d definitely kiss him, feeling those soft, plump lips against yours all over again, and slide your tongue into his mouth and sigh as you feel his start to move against yours. Would his confidence soar as you make those pretty noises again, encouraging him to explore further, deeper, harder?

Would you take the lead and lay him down onto the cool tabletop, and spill soothing words as you clamber up over him, gliding your soaking folds over him, drenching him with your abundant arousal? Or would he lie back, pulling you down with him, pressing your chest to his and letting you know just how hard he’s going to fuck you?

You might grasp his thick length, make him whine as you angle his cock at your hole and sink slowly down the length of him, his hands scrabbling to find purchase on the table, whimpering as you take him fully inside you. Or he could hum with approval, telling you how good you are for him, calling you his Princess, gripping your hips with his big hands as he manoeuvres you over his swollen cock, sliding into you from beneath.

You could take it slow and steady, noticing every pull and drag of his impressive member, allowing him to feel every part of your wet heat as you move atop him. Or you could use him, quickly bouncing, his ample girth stretching you as you pivot your hips for your own pleasure, slamming his tip exactly where you need it.

His hands might be soft and loving, gently touching your face and reverently running over your hair as he mumbles sweet things about how beautiful you are, how fucking lucky he is to have you like this. Or he might grip the back of your neck, tangle his fist into your hair, perhaps even hold one thick thumb across your throat, and gruffly huff hot breaths full of obscenities into your ear as he pumps himself in and out of you.

Would he let you take what you want, be your pliant and willing fucktoy? Or would he plant his feet on the table and thrust himself up into you, chasing for your release as much as his own?

Would you angle yourself against his pelvis, feeling the friction of his glossy thatch of dark hair against your clit as you roll and circle? Or might you suck your fingers and move them between you, maybe even push them into his mouth first, before you slide them down, down, between your heaving bodies to your most sensitive bud, drawing circles and lines, your head dropping back as Eddie watches, aghast, feeling you clench around hi- h- h-

Your empty pen scratches the paper, threatening to tear through the delicate pages. Dammit! You fling it aside, and quickly grab another at random. Red this time, the colour of passion. Appropriate…

-around his throbbing length.

Working with more intent, would Eddie watch, mouth agape, practically drooling? Or would he take your lead, replacing your fingers with his own, experimentally touching, circling, pressing? Watching your face contort as his technique improves, his gorgeous dimples popping as he gets it right, both of you nearing your peaks.

Maybe he’d even grab you and lift you from him, bend you over the table and enter you roughly from behind, feral grunts emanating from his chest. And you imagine you’d love every second, even the feel of the edge of the desk digging into the flesh of your thighs.

Whichever position you were in, he’d make you cum, you’re certain of that. But would you be first, spasming around him as he groans with approval? Would he then chase his own release, pummelling your sensitive core and making galaxies erupt behind your eyelids?

Perhaps you’d cum together, Eddie pushing himself impossibly deeper, his intense thrusts repeatedly pushing his fat tip against your special spot, your rippling walls milking him as his hot spend fills you up fuller than you’d ever thought possible. Would he stay inside you, panting, holding you close as he softens and your combined breaths become steady?

You wonder how he’d behave afterwards. Would he help you dress, stroke your hair? Would he dash off to find something to clean you up with? Would he sit with you as you both recover, humming as you cuddle, murmuring sweet, romantic things to each other as his seed leaks out of you onto the hard chairs of the study room?

Would he gently lift your chin, look deep into your eyes, and tell you that he lo—

Panting, sweating and unsure where most of this, let alone that last part, came from, you discard your pen with a clatter and slam your notebook shut, not for the first time wondering whether it’s possible to retrofit a padlock to it just in case anyone you live with decides to get curious.

You’re definitely not feeling calmer. This absolutely hasn’t worked. At all. In fact, you’re more frustrated now than you were before you began writing.

Running a hand slowly over your face, your fingertips pause at your lips, skimming lightly over them. You close your eyes and remember all over again how Eddie’s plush, pink, pillowy lips felt against them just hours ago. 

Gently, you open your jaw a little, and run your index and middle fingers over your teeth and across your tongue. Enjoying the sensation, you can’t help but wonder how Eddie’s rough, talented musician’s fingers would feel doing exactly this.

Turning over and flopping back on your pillows, your other hand runs across your belly and over the top of one thigh, and you pause your thumb at the crease of your hip, just able to feel the lacy edge of your panty elastic beneath your clothes.

You glance towards your bedside table, knowing exactly what’s inside that closed drawer. And you seriously contemplate trying a very different form of reflection this evening…

Thanks so much for reading! 💗

I hope you enjoyed seeing what reader got up to whilst Eddie was in the shower 😉

Series masterlist

my masterlist

Lesson Three is in progress - let me know if you’d like to join the taglist. 

Taglist Pt 1: @airen256 @bimbotrashcan @urlbitchin @guiltyasquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @rustboxstarr @bl4ckt00thgr1n @bexreadstoomuch @cozmiccass @yujyujj @cluz1babe @thunderg @aysheashea @paleidiot @cadence73 @eddie-munsons-wifey @siriuslysmoking @neville-is-my-husband @aestheticaltcow @jjmaybankswifes-blog @lightcommastix @ungracefularchimedes @spenciesprincess @joejoequinnquinn @freshoutthewomb2 @sunshinepeachx @tlclick73 @hellfirenacht @yourdailymemedelivery @wendyxox @madaboutmunson @80s-addict @skrzydlak @eddiesxangel @bunny7232 @starksbabie @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @abellmunsonmovie @sheneedsrocknroll92 @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @wonderlanddreamer @leatherfaceologist @munson-blurbs @paradisepoisons @lokidokieokie @rcailleachcola @fckyeahlames @kurdtbean

[pullhisteeth]

classified | eddie munson x reader

summary at your wits end, you put an ad in the classifieds for a special kind of tutor. Eddie finds it and takes you up on the offer. (nsfw) [13k]

contains smut (18+ minors dni!) – p in v sex, oral (f receiving), lots of praise, virgin!reader, fem!reader, hurt/comfort. eddie's a sweetheart, fluff, first time turned something more (?).

author's notes this one's a long one! the idea made me laugh and then it took on a life of its own. I want to say this is meant to be somewhat lighthearted and is not a suggestion that anyone should be having sex if they haven't already – your body's yours, baby, do whatever you want! no one should ever make you feel rushed into anything!!! anyway Eddie is an angel and I want one. bye!

-

Eddie's not sure why he's reading the newspaper. Boredom, perhaps; he's been waiting for Wayne to get home from his shift for over an hour. He's thought about calling the plant, but the walk from the couch to the phone seems to be the perfect amount of time to convince himself that he's probably on his way home already.

It's the Hawkins Post. It gets delivered by a snot-nose boy on a bike every week, thrown far too hard at their tin front door. Wayne reads it some weeks, others it gets used to wrap his lunch. Apparently this one he'd read it, flicked through the pages half-heartedly before leaving it open on a centrefold about the local elections. Trust Wayne to get bored of small-town politics, Eddie thinks.

So he picks up where Wayne left off, slowly pulling the pages apart, skimming stories about the endemic of teen pregnancy, or columns about the rejuvenation plans for downtown Hawkins. 

Finally, he reaches the only bit of the newspaper that Eddie has ever found interesting: the classifieds (and, on the back of the classifieds, the call-girl ads).

He skims them, eyes brushing past ads for cleaners, dog walkers, nannies. Finds the ones hidden at the bottom – the letters written in code, ads for attractive female friends and women seeking younger men. He's never actually interested in them, but they provide a glimpse into the underbelly of Hawkins, a small town that is, for all intents and purposes, entirely normal. But nowhere is ever truly normal, and Eddie likes to seize the opportunity to pry into the scandalous goings-on of his boring hometown.

He's reading one about swingers when the one beside it catches his eye. It's plain – whoever paid for it kept their costs to a minimum. All it says is:

WOMAN, 23, SEEKING FIRST TIME.

He stares at the bold ink, the statement in all caps that, despite being maybe the lowest cost ad in the whole paper – it's in a box about three inches tall in the very corner of the page – jumps out at him anyway. Underneath the title, it reads: young woman looking for judgement-free first time. Min. age 22, max. age 28. Must have experience. At the very bottom, in almost imperceptible print, is a phone number.

Eddie hadn't realised how close his face was to the page until he hears the familiar sound of Wayne's car pull up outside. He throws the paper down onto his lap and sighs before scrambling around to at least try to look casual, and not like all the blood has rushed to his face. In the few seconds he has between the sound of Wayne's car door closing and him coming up the stairs, Eddie tears the page out, folding it quickly and shoving it into the back pocket of his jeans as he stands.

The door opens just as he gets to his feet, and Wayne comes trudging in with his steel lunch pail and heavy boots.

"Hey, Wayne," Eddie says, breathless, trying his best to sound level. Wayne eyes him as he closes the door, before turning to dump his stuff on the table.

"C'mon, kid, you promised me a burger."

-

The piece of newspaper stays in Eddie's pocket for three more days.

Wayne had been late getting home – something came up, but Eddie wasn't listening too hard, brain on that stupid ad instead – so their weekly trip to Benny's had run until the early hours of Friday morning.

And then Friday was work and Hellfire, which Eddie still leads despite having graduated two years ago, and this time the kids kept him going for hours. By the time he got home he hadn't even thought about the page before crashing into bed.

And then Saturday is family day, as Nancy puts it. Eddie had woken up late, rolled out of bed into the freshest clothes he could find, and into his van to act as bus driver for the morning. His little gaggle of unruly teenagers crammed into the back of it one by one, laughing and teasing and shouting. Steve's home became louder and still, Eddie relished in that feeling of peace he gets once a week with all these misfits he calls friends.

By Sunday morning, the newspaper had been long forgotten in the pocket of his jeans that he'd left in a pile on his bedroom floor. He's laid on his back on his bed, head dangling off the edge, puffing mindlessly on a spliff he'd rolled for himself two days ago that had also been forgotten. The room's a little fuzzy round the edges, just the way he likes it, the sunlight creeping warm paws up his arms. It smells funny in here, he thinks, so he turns over, pushes himself off the bed, and reaches up to open his window. On his way back to his bed, he trips on something, landing with a huff as his ribs hit the corner of the mattress.

"Fuck," he hisses, reaching down to pull the culprit off the floor. It's just an old pair of jeans, so he throws them into the corner, out of the way, and resumes his position, splayed out across the bed.

From this angle, with his head hanging upside down, he spots something by the pile of denim he'd just discarded.

His brain's ticking over slowly under the haze of being stoned, but after a second he realises what it is, and clambers all too quickly off the bed and across the room.

Maybe it's that haze, coating his brain with thick fog; maybe it's the fact that, in the year since he graduated, he's had to settle for quick fucks behind the Hideout after a gig; or maybe, just maybe, it's dangerous curiosity.

Whatever it is, something motivates him to move through his room, down the narrow corridor into the kitchen. There's something hijacking his limbs, and it reaches up to the phone on the wall. With eyes on the page in his hand he spins the dial, listening to the tone as it rings, rings, rings.

The longer he stands there, the more convinced he becomes in his intoxicated miasma that this is some kind of prank; he's going to be met with a stupid kid on the other end, laughing at him for bothering to call at all. 

When he finally decides that this is just that, a practical joke, the line clicks. There's a low buzz on the other end, so low he thinks maybe the line just went dead, but then a voice.

"Hello?"

He's taken aback by the sound of it, but not so much that he doesn't notice the sleep coating it. Despite his stupor, he can't help but apologise.

"Shit, sorry, did I wake you?"

"Who is this?" You're sharper now, coming to, and he kicks himself for fucking this up already.

"Oh, shit, uh, sorry. I called about… I got this number, uh, in the paper."

"Fuck," he hears you whisper. He's not sure if he was supposed to hear it. He feels bad.

"Sorry, I'll go, this was-"

"Look, I put that age range in the ad for a reason. I'm sick of gettin' calls from middle aged men, I-"

"I'm twenty-three."

You're silent on the other end for a moment, but he can hear your breath hitch.

"Well, shit," you finally say. "Y'don't sound it."

He laughs an awkward, stilted laugh, unsure what to say.

"Sorry, I've had so many guys – men, old men – callin' me up, tryin' to flirt with me down the phone, I just… The ad was a mistake, clearly."

He likes the way you talk. You've got a pretty voice.

"Uh, thanks," you say.

Shit.

"Fuck, sorry, did I say that out loud?" Moron.

You laugh, the sound fizzing down the telephone line, and it eases some of his insecurity.

"I'm sorry," he says, starting fresh. "I'll leave you be, have a good-"

"Wait," you bite, and he can hear you shuffling around. "Wait just a sec, I- fuck, where the fuck is it? I… Sorry, can you just wait for a second?"

"Sure, sure," he murmurs, trailing off when he realises you've set the phone down. He listens to the faint sounds of you rummaging around and swearing under your breath. He must look like an idiot, stood in his kitchen, smiling at his phone, waiting for a stranger he found in the paper.

He hears you coming back, footsteps getting louder, before you pick the phone back up.

"Y'still there?"

"Yeah," he laughs. You speak to him like he's an old friend and it keeps catching him off guard.

"Okay," you say. "Here's the thing. I put that stupid ad in the paper because I was sad, and my life has been a misery since then, because literally every guy who's called me has been, like, at least forty, which some people are into I guess but I'm not, and- Sorry."

You're rambling, stumbling over your words even though he can tell you're trying to be professional or something. He stays quiet and hopes you'll keep going.

After a beat, you say, "I guess, 'cause you called, you'd be up for it?"

"Uh, well," he stammers. "That's kinda why I called. Care to explain what it is you want, exactly?"

He's not sure where the sudden confidence has come from; maybe the weed's wearing off.

"Okay, yeah," you breathe. "So, uh, my plan, I guess, was that I'd… You'd take, uh, my virginity."

You almost whisper the last part, like it's some kind of slur, and Eddie can't help but laugh on the other end.

You start to sound exasperated, frustrated, so he tries to claw you back.

"Sorry, sorry, it's just so… frank."

"Well, bein' all coy about it hasn't really worked out for me so far."

Can't argue with that logic.

"Okay," he says, trying to ignore the excitement bubbling inside him. You're a stranger, he's a stranger, and this whole thing is kind of weird. Shit, he thinks. Am I a perv?

"How do you want to do this?"

"Well," you start, sounding like you've got this part planned out. "First I need to know you're not gonna murder me or something, so I'll give you an address near my house but not at my house, and we can meet there whenever… and, uh, what year were you born?"

"What?"

"Just… So I feel a bit more sure you're actually twenty-three."

"Hah, okay. 1965."

"Okay, sweet. You got a pen?"

"Shit, yeah, one sec."

His eyes dart around the room. With the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he moves as far as the cord will let him, to a drawer by the front door. At the back there's an old pencil and some scraps of junk mail.

"Got it!" he declares, too enthusiastic but it makes you giggle so he laughs too.

"Okay," you start, and you tell him an address he vaguely recognises, closer to the nicer side of town, halfway between here and where Steve's house is.

"It's a park, kind of. It's pretty public anyways, so if you were, y'know, planning to kill me or whatever, don't bother."

"I'll take that off the to-do list," he tells you through a smirk.

"Very funny," you say, your sentence half-formed like you can't find the words to finish it. "Wait, what's your name?"

"Eddie. Munson."

"Okay, Eddie Munson," you say before telling him yours and deciding that you'll meet him later that day. You tell him it's easier that way, that you can't bear to have to wait all week, sitting on the nerves that might make you change your mind.

That's exactly what Eddie does all afternoon. You'd decided on six that evening, when it's still light but late enough that you both have time to back out, and so he sits, stoned out of his mind on both weed and the phone call, feeling something he's rarely felt before.

It's like cola in his gut, bubbling and frothing every time he tries to move. Is this what people feel when they say they have butterflies? Because it doesn't really feel like that; it feels instead like the madness inside him is floating upwards, fizzing around his heart, prodding and poking at it at uneven rhythms. His mind is reeling, too; he hadn't really thought this through at all. What if, even after that call, you're still planning on playing some kind of trick on him? What if this is an elaborate scheme to publicly humiliate him? Maybe you get a kick out of that kind of thing.

There's another thing, creeping around at the back of his mind, lurking. It's that horrid hopefulness, the what if that feels so far from likely that if he lends too much time to thinking about it, he feels stupid.

What if you're great?

He shakes himself out, standing up off his bed. He'd been lying there for the past two hours, sobering up, dwelling on every detail of the call, lingering in particular on your voice and your laugh and the way you say sweet so often.

He doesn't know who you are. He didn't recognise your name when you told him, even though you're his age. He didn't recognise your voice either, but he likes it, and he wasn't lying when he (accidentally) told you it's pretty.

He looks at the clock beside his bed. The red numbers flicker as they change to 16:52.

One hour.

-

He's early.

It's ten to six, and he's early.

The sun's low but not gone yet, and the park you sent him to is actually kind of nice. He's in his van, waiting until it's a socially acceptable time to get out and wait for you. What is the socially acceptable time to get out and wait for the girl you've got an agreement like this with?

Before he can decide, he sees someone. They're in jeans and a jacket, red Chucks and hair lifting up in the breeze.

Without thinking about it too hard, he opens the door and hops out, slamming it a little too hard. The person looks over, catches his mop of hair over the top of the van, and stops walking.

"Eddie?"

He hears you call his name over the sound of his boots crunching on the ground as he rounds the front of the van. He looks over to find you, the person he saw walking over, looking at him with your hand at your brow, blocking the sun.

You're pretty – really pretty. He still doesn't recognise you, but he has decided that's surely for the best.

You don't recognise him, either, but he's hot. He's not what you expected; truthfully, you really had expected someone older, lying about their age to get in your pants, someone you'd have to turn down in this very public space, going back to your apartment alone and unsatisfied. This is not what you had in mind at all, but you're not mad about it.

As he comes towards you, you watch the way he walks, chest-first like he's exactly where he should be. His hair's long and a bit wild but it matches his style – ringer tee, messy black jeans, obnoxious denim jacket. He's got his hands in his pockets but when he lifts one out to wave at you awkwardly, you see the rings and know you're a goner.

You wave back, laughing lightly as he nears you. He's taller than you so you really have to squint to see him against the setting sun.

"Hey," he says softly. His voice is even nicer in person; he does sound older than he is, and he has an air of maturity about him, like he's too sure in himself to be 23, but there's also a boyishness somewhere underneath that endears you.

"Hi," you reply. "You're Eddie, right?"

He looks around himself, head whipping back and forth.

"No, doll," he says, looking at you with a blank face. "I'm Keith."

"Oh," you say, trying to hide the flush in your cheeks and the way your face drops, but then he laughs and reaches out to hold your shoulder.

"Sorry, that was a bad joke." He squeezes. "Yeah, I'm Eddie."

You choose to ignore the overly familiar touch and the way it sends your knees all funny, and instead you laugh, a little awkwardly, and hold out a hand.

"Nice to meet ya," you say, firm.

He looks down at your hand as he drops his own from your shoulder. His eyes move between it and your face, but he shakes it anyway.

"Well?" he asks, and you watch as he smirks, staring you down, his hand still in yours.

"What?"

"Do I look like a serial killer? Scared I'm gonna murder you?"

With those final words he pulls on your hand, bringing you closer to himself. His confidence is only making that funny feeling in your knees worse, but what you don't know is that he's bluffing; before you stands a terrified boy struck dumb by a pretty girl.

"Hm," you hum, dialling up the dramatics to ponder his appearance. You take the chance to scan your eyes up and down his body, taking in the scuffs on his shoes and the pretty silver chain around his neck. From here you can smell weed and cigarette smoke, pretty aftershave and something deeper. "I don't think so."

"Damn," he quips, finally releasing your hand to run his own through his wild mass of hair. "I was really tryin' to look scary."

"You didn't do a very good job," you tell him, laughing softly, and he looks at you with a smile.

"Oh well," he says. "Maybe next time."

Ignoring the way that makes you feel, you take his hand again. It's your turn to pull him, dragging him behind you. The move startles him and he drags his feet for a moment before catching up, refusing to let go of your hand when you try. He swings them between your bodies theatrically as you walk him across the park, through a line of tall oak trees and onto the street on the other side.

"So," he says, drawing out the word. "We goin' to your parents' or somethin'?"

"No," you reply, shaking your head slightly with your eyes on the ground. You drop his hand and stuff yours back in your pocket. "I have an apartment, up by Main Street. This's just a shortcut."

"Oh."

You don't say much more after that. The walk is short; you were right, this is a shortcut to Main Street, one even he didn’t know about. It takes you past Steve's house, and Eddie prays he doesn't happen to be looking out the window at this precise moment.

You live above the pharmacy. You scramble with the lock for a moment, so he stands behind you, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking around; it's quiet, the usual lull of a Sunday evening, the sun lower than before. He looks at the back of your hair and the way the light catches in it, hears the low curses under your breath as you struggle with the door. And then it's open, and you're inside in the dark, and he has to bring himself back down to Earth.

Your apartment is small. Behind the door there's a narrow staircase, and at the top another door. It brings him into your living space, which is cramped but clearly well-loved. You offer him a drink and step into the kitchen when he says yes.

He lets his eyes pass over the room. The ceiling is low, reminiscent of his own home, though the walls are more solid than the trailer. They're painted a muted, pale blue, a colour he's sure you didn't choose because you've covered as much of them as you can in things: paintings, framed photographs, postcards. The furniture is more to your taste, he assumes. It's all soft, rich greens and pinks.

You bring him a beer as he sits on the couch, sinks into the cushions, toes off his boots.

"Thanks," he says as you pass him the bottle and take a swig of your own. You take your own shoes off and leave them by the door, hanging your jacket on a hook there too.

"So," you begin, padding back over to him and sitting on the opposite end of the couch. "I don't know how this works."

"Well," he says, turning to you with one arm up on the back cushions, "I can talk you through it, but I need t'know where you're at."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, how far have you gone before? How far do you want to go today?"

"Uh-" You shuffle, squirming into the couch, clearly looking for the right words. "I've never… This is as far as I've ever got."

He breathes a gasp though he's trying to hide it, trying to stick to the agreement of judgement-free. "You've never been kissed?"

You just shake your head and the way your face creases, brows turned down, makes him ache.

"Okay."

"And I want to go all the way," you say quickly, all in one breath, finding your words. "Not too far, no extra shit, like, kinky shit, but the standard."

"O-kay," he says again, smiling this time. "So you know it's not as easy as… As in and out, right?"

"Yes," you spit. He flinches. "Sorry, it's just… It's hard not to feel a bit, like, insecure about all of this. Makes me a bit defensive, I guess."

"It's okay," he soothes, and his tone really does make you feel better. "No judgement here. I'm not new to sex, but I'm just as new to this whole… situation as you are."

"Okay," you sigh.

"Why don't we just chat for a bit? I'm not in a rush if you're not."

"Yeah," you agree. Eddie is easy, you're finding; no dancing around the point, but you feel you're being handled gently. Exactly what you want.

"So did you grow up here?"

Okay, so maybe the 'chatting' suggestion was a bit of a façade for the fact that Eddie has found himself fascinated by you, even in the short time he's known you. Sure, it's only been ten minutes if you're not counting the phone call, but there's something about you that piques his interest. And, if he's honest, he's not sure why he wouldn't recognise someone his own age in Hawkins.

"No, no," you say, leaning over to put your beer on the table. You wipe your mouth quickly with the back of your hand. "I'm from Illinois."

"Why are you here then?" He takes your que and puts his own beer down too, deciding that being intoxicated probably isn't the best idea.

"I dunno," you say, sighing again. Your shoulders go lax as you let yourself sink backwards and look up at the ceiling. "I wanted to go somewhere new, but not somewhere big. And the middle school here was hiring a tech assistant, so I applied."

"And you got the job?"

"Uh-huh. I start in September, figured I'd just move here early, try to find my feet."

"How's that going?"

"Alright, mister questions." You laugh as you say this and sit up, looking at him again with a smile. "It's going okay so far. People are friendlier here, but I haven't exactly found my people yet."

He hums, nodding, and you say, "My turn."

He looks up at you. "Do your worst."

"Did you grow up here?"

"Kind of. Somewhere near here, til I was eleven."

"Why'd you move here?"

"Hah." He goes all rigid and awkward at your question, shrugging his jacket off with his eyes on the ground. You take note of the ink you can see crawling up to his neck under the collar of his shirt. There's something else there, too; something pale and stretched, like a scar.

"It's complicated." That's the answer he settles on, keeping his cards close to his chest. "But I moved in with my uncle when I was in middle school. Been here since then."

"Is that why you're still here? Your uncle?"

"Kind of, but that's also complicated."

"Wow, okay, is everything complicated with you?"

"It doesn't have to be," he says. It throws you for a loop, the way his voice has dropped, fried and kind of… sexy?

You find him looking at you, and suddenly he feels really close. You feel this urge to climb out of yourself, away from this situation that isn't for you; it's never for you. No one has ever wanted to get this close.

"You okay?" he asks, his friendly tone back.

You're grateful he seems to be able to read you so quickly.

"Yeah, sorry."

"It's okay. If you want to, y'know, stop this at any point, just let me know, okay?"

"We haven't even-"

"Will you?" he presses.

"Yes," you promise him. He looks back at you like he's waiting, yearning for something and you don't quite know what.

"Can I ask you something?" he says.

"Mm-hmm."

"Why are you so far away right now?"

He's gone soft, leaning forward toward you, his arm still up on the back of the couch. Your eyes flicker to his fingers and the rings on them, the way they're sparkling slightly in the dipping sun coming through the window.

It fills your mouth with glue. The combination of his proximity and the question leaves you breathless.

"I just…" he continues. "You're hiding from me over there."

He's got a sticky smirk on his face, like he knows the answer and knows you don't want to tell him. He shuffles forward ever so slightly, letting you breach into his space if you want to.

You do, you really, really do – he's a kind stranger, doing a kind thing for you, even if it is a bit odd. You want nothing more than to relinquish yourself to him, and yet you can't.

There's a momentary staring contest between the two of you. The couch feels miles long and yet he's closing in. You feel suffocated.

"I'm gonna come to you," he says after a minute. "Is that okay?"

All you can do is nod at him. It's like your body's on fire, affronted at the idea of being touched by him and yet harbouring some primal urge, deep under the surface, to let him do it anyway.

He pushes his jacket onto the floor with his elbow as he moves himself down the couch toward you. Your eyes follow his arms and the way they stretch, and then the way one of them lifts. He plants his hand firmly on your knee and it burns through the denim of your jeans. You can't tear your eyes from it, staring blankly at his fingers, the way the tendons flex when he squeezes.

"We don't have to do anythin' you don't wanna do, okay?" he tells you. He's watching you, how you're watching his hand, how your hair still lights up in the sun. You're sweet, and pretty, and most of all he longs to know more.

"I'm gonna talk you through it," he continues, "kinda like a teacher, if that's what you want."

When you don't reply, he calls your name softly, and says, "Is that what you want?"

You look up at him and nod again.

"I need to hear it, sweets."

You tell him yes, that is what I want, trying desperately to keep your voice as level as possible, not letting on that it kills you every time he uses a petname like that.

His fingers dance up your thigh and back down to your knee, a repeating pattern that sends you dizzier the closer he gets to you.

"Eddie?"

His hand stills and he looks at you.

"Yeah?"

When he responds, you feel his breath on your face. He's close enough, now; you can really look at him, at the crow's feet by his eyes, the freckles across his cheek, the bend in the bridge of his nose that looks like maybe he broke it once. His eyes are really pretty, browned sugar and syrup, flitting around as he tries to read you.

"I've never been this close to anyone before."

He's watching your eyes as they move over his face, admiring the slight sense of awe in them.

"That's okay."

There's a sudden absence on your leg where his hand leaves it and it aches, like the bone is realigning. You swallow a whine and close your eyes when his hand finds your cheek.

"I'm gonna kiss you now," he whispers. "That okay?"

You nod again and he lets the pads of his fingers smooth backwards into your hair where they take root, his thumb beside your eye. You feel him pull you in and his breath on your nose and then the strange sensation of his lips.

It's new but not unwelcome. He's soft with it, light as anything and quicker even, gone before you really know it's happened. Some kind of sudden urge takes over, though, because you don't like how quick it was, so you chase him. You plant your lips back on his, firmer than he had, your nose nudging his as you get the angle right. This one's longer and it startles him; you have to pull back when he starts laughing.

"Alright, alright, slow down," he says as you sit back, deflated. "You liked that, huh?"

You nod, giddy, desperate to feel it again.

"Can I show you somethin'?" His hand is on your neck now, burning its fires once more, and you can barely concentrate on him.

"Yeah," you breathe, a sigh of relief as he comes closer again. But as you close your eyes, expecting his mouth on yours, you can't help the whine that escapes when he misses, landing beside it. You feel him chuckle, a puff of air out of his nose, before he dots more kisses along your jaw. It feels nice, gentle and slow, like he's scared to break you if he goes too fast or comes on too strong.

The whine, lingering in your throat, moulds into something like a sigh – or even a moan – when he makes it onto the column of your throat. You swear you feel his teeth graze the skin there, lips following them over your pulse. His kisses turn hotter, heavier, and you can't help the way you keen into him. Without thinking about it, you paw at his shoulders and let your back arch as you breathe thick pants into the air of your living room.

When he pulls back again, you whine his name, gripping tighter where you've pulled his shirt into your fists. He laughs at you, head tipped back, as he smooths his hands up and down your arms; the gentle touch makes you relax and your hands unfurl.

"Good, huh?" His words are viscous, thick with want, but he daren't go too fast.

"Mm-hmm," you agree, nodding, breathing quick. Now that he's stopped, you have time to consider that, actually, you might be a bit overwhelmed; without thinking about it you sit back, returning to your comfortable distance by the arm of the couch, watching as his face falls.

"Sure you're okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah, I just-"

"Yeah, take a second."

"Mm-hmm, just need a minute."

You watch him stiffen, awkward in the wake of the moment, and take the chance to admire him a bit more until you sense his eyes are back on you, and suddenly you feel very small.

"You alright?"

You nod, looking back at him, finding his face all soft and concerned, turned down so it makes you twinge.

"You're being so nice to me," you say. It comes out more as a breath, a string of words tied together with insecurity, all in the same exhale. You're not even sure you said it at all, but his face twists into something like shock.

"What do you mean?"

You sigh. "I dunno, I… You're just being very… kind. Are you always like this?"

He seems taken aback by the question. His hands are in his lap where his left fingers toy with the rings on his right. He looks away from you to stare instead at the beer on the table and the drop of condensation running a race down the neck of the bottle.

"You've really never done this before, huh?" he asks you, and now it's your turn to be taken aback.

"I'm not lying, if that's what you're getting at," you say with perhaps a bit too much venom.

"No," he responds, stern. "I'm just… Finding it hard to believe. I'm sure it's true," he says quickly when you open your mouth to fire something quick at him again, "like, I know you're not lying, but it's so surprising."

"How so?"

He sighs this time. He twists in his seat to face you, bringing one leg up under himself, the other dangling off the edge of your couch. "I'm gonna be honest with you right now, if that's okay."

"Okay."

"'Cause I feel like that's the best way to do this whole… thing, right? Nothin' in it for you, really, if we're not honest, or whatever…"

For the first time since you met him in the park, he's showing his nerves. It gets him all wound up, stumbling through sentences like the words are quicker than he can keep up with. It's endearing, really; nicer in some ways than confidence.

"When I saw that ad it obviously caught my eye, I mean, I called, but I just didn't know what to expect, obviously, and you're… Well, you're… normal? So far, anyway." He huffs the last three words out in a laugh, but you don't return it.

"What does that mean?"

"I just think I expected someone who puts an ad like that in the paper to be weirder, or something."

Your gut twists. Red flares of anger lick up your insides, popping and wheezing in your throat.

"What the fuck, dude?" 

You stand, backing away, feeling that familiar creeping isolation; distance, walls up, get away. His face has dropped to something wider, fear in his big stupid brown eyes and mouth agape.

"I didn't-"

"I'm not weird for being a virgin. And just because you think I'm 'normal' doesn't mean this-" you gesture between the two of you with both hands, "-should be surprising."

"No, shit, sorry," he pants, desperation oozing, "fuck."

"I think you should go," you finally say. Your arms are across your middle, hands gripping your forearms. You don't dare look at him, even when he says nothing.

You flinch when you feel him come nearer. He steps over the threadbare rug on your floor and over to the corner where you've parked yourself.

He calls your name and you despise the way you soften at the sound of it.

"I'm gonna touch you, 's'that okay?"

You scoff, turning away from him.

"Stop fucking patronising me, Eddie."

"I'm not patronising you. You wanted me to talk you through it."

"Yeah, that. Not this."

"This is part of that."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"Well this isn't getting me very turned on," you spit, turning back to look at him, your arms still crossed over your chest and the rising fire of anger flares when you find that cocky smirk on his face.

"Will you come sit down with me? Please?"

His hands are hovering awkwardly between the two of you, forbidden to come any closer but refusing to give up completely. You offer him an olive branch, dropping your own arms and taking his hand in yours.

He walks you back to the couch and sits beside you, turning your hand over in his on his lap. You both watch it, the way his thumb grazes your palm, tracing the lines up and over.

"Sex isn't just sex, you know," he says frankly. "Even when it's like this."

"I know," you whisper, eyes transfixed.

"It's about all the emotional shit too, and I'm gettin' the feeling there's a lot of that to get through."

"Mm-hmm." It irks you, the way he seems to know you without really knowing you. "You sound very wise."

He laughs at that, and you find yourself grateful for the reprieve, for the way the tension seems to lift just a little.

"I'm just being honest," he admits through a laugh. And then he turns to look at you, dipping his head to meet your gaze because you won't look up. His gaze on you is oppressive, unfamiliar, but you don't dislike it.

"You're really pretty, you know."

You just look at him.

"Hm?" he tries, dipping even lower to catch your eye properly. "It's true."

"A boy's never called me pretty before," you admit, words too quick for you to call them back. This is dire, this hole you're digging; after all this time, being honest is still so difficult, though it seems to come so easily to him.

"That's a crime" he says. And then he does that thing, the one you've read about in books, daydreamed about, thought about late into the night. He brings his hand to your face and holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, a light pressure but enough to move you to look up at him, sat upright, with your mouth dropped open in shock.

It's just as electric as you'd imagined; more so, even. Two points of contact. Who'd have thought it?

"I'm sorry I said something stupid," he tells you. "It was dumb."

You giggle as his fingers shift across your skin. Soon enough he's holding you in his hand again and you feel yourself leaning into it, again.

"Thank you for apologising," you say. "I think I can forgive it for now."

"Good," he says. And then, more coy, the act dropped for a moment, "Can I kiss you again?"

"Yes, but…"

Just like before, the words stall in your throat.

"You can tell me what you want, you know. It's why I'm here." Christ, his voice is like honey when he's this close to your face.

You pull a long breath in through your nose and close your eyes.

"I have this… fantasy," you begin, and you hear (and feel) him chuckle.

"Go on."

"I guess it's not really a fantasy, just something I've always wanted to try…"

"That's the definition of a fantasy."

"Hey," you scold, opening your eyes and swatting him on the arm softly. "You wanna hear it or not?"

"Sorry, sorry," he says, laughing again. "Continue."

"Can I sit on your lap?"

"Is that it?" he asks, laugh lingering, threatening to fire up the heat in your cheeks.

"Yes," you say pointedly. "I wanna try it."

"Go for it, baby."

He doesn't miss the way you gasp at the nickname; in fact, he smiles, grins almost. He moves his hands down, leaving your face for now so he can hold your waist as you move onto your knees and lift one over him.

It's funny, you think, how hard all of this feels; really, this is a very normal thing for two 23-year-olds to be doing, and yet something within you makes it feel mechanical, intentional. Perhaps you just need practise.

"Okay," he says as you settle, your hips halfway down his thighs. "You gonna get any closer, or am I gonna have to lean over an' break my back?"

"Am I okay to get closer?" you ask, not taking much notice of how your fingers are dancing around his chest, toying lightly with the chain around his neck. Maybe it does come naturally after all.

"'Course you are, here-"

His big hands pull you in by the waist so that you're seated on him, hips to hips. Your faces are closer now, too, so you can admire those lovely crows feet again and the bend of his nose.

"Gonna kiss me, Munson?"

"O-kay," he says, smirking again. "I like the attitude."

"Oh, for fu-"

He shuts you up with a kiss, takes your breath away like they all say in the magazines; this kiss brings the fire up to the hilt, pulls on the smoke and the kindling and sets everything ablaze. His lips move against yours like molten gold, hot and rich and bright, quick but tender all the same. You feel the heat of his stuttering breaths on your cheek and lean inwards, arching your back slightly, until you feel him moan.

It's a sensation you could get used to, for sure. It's fizzy vibrations on your lips, makes them tingle, all electric. And then, before you can really know it's happening, you feel his tongue on yours.

You're not even sure when you opened your mouth for him. But it's there, the new feeling. It feels wetter, less familiar, but it pulls an involuntary moan out of you and you arch your back even more without thinking.

You get into it, into the rhythm, and let your mind wander to the friction between your hips and the pressure of his fingers under your ribs. They're skirting the hem of your top, his ring finger dipping beneath it onto the skin of your waist. And then you think about it too much, take notice of it too acutely, and you're pulling back and panting, looking down at where his hands are.

"All good?" he asks in a voice that's new to you; it's lazy, his words fuzzy, like he's just woken up. You look up at him and his eyes are hooded, lids low, and he's wearing a dopey half-smile.

"Yeah, just… Feeling lots of things," you say; it's all you can think of to explain this.

"That's kinda the point," he reminds you, and then he's doing that thing he showed you earlier, kissing slowly across your jaw and down onto your neck. It feels just as nice the second time; nicer, even, because you're letting him do it and you're letting yourself enjoy it.

His fingers venture upwards, more of them sliding under your top, until he pulls back and says the fateful words you knew would come soon: "Can I take this off?"

His lips are still on your throat, so he doesn't see the way you wince. When you don't reply he comes back up to look at you. You turn away.

"Hey," he coos, one hand leaving its treacherous territory to hold your head again. "What's up?"

You huff. "No one's ever seen me… naked before."

He smiles, which vexes you. "I'm here 'cause I wanna, baby."

The fucking nicknames.

"I know, I just… Can you just-"

You hold his hand in yours and move it away from your skin, hold it in both of yours to keep it away from you. He breathes an apology but you continue.

"This whole thing, me never doing this before or whatever, I think it's probably got a lot to do with me not really liking this-" you look down at yourself as you speak, "-very much."

You see him take this in, how it melts his features and widens his eyes.

"Okay," he finally says. "We can take this slow, yeah? You wearing a bra?"

"Yes, Eddie, I'm wearing a bra."

"So let's start there. Top off first, and you can see how you feel."

"Okay."

You let go of his hand and he takes your shirt in both. You close your eyes as you feel him lift the fabric, bunch it around your breasts, your que to lift your arms. You do it for him and he pulls up, tugs it messily over your head and throws it somewhere across the room.

"Shit," he hisses.

"What?" you say in a panic, worried something somewhere has gone horribly wrong.

"Look at you," he croons. "So pretty."

The insecurity evaporates, coming off you like a heavy mist, as he dips his head to kiss your collar bones and across the swell of flesh beneath. He takes his time, sometimes pulling the skin between his teeth but never for long enough to leave a mark. At some point he nudges you back and reaches over his head to pull his own shirt off; before he commits, he looks at you. You nod.

This is the most flesh-on-flesh you've ever felt before. It's nice; you're both warm, and he hasn't once mentioned the eighteen thousand different flaws you know are on your upper body.

His is covered in ink – pretty, often in swirling patterns and on his arm there are bats. But between them, there's confirmation of your earlier suspicions: he's got scars everywhere.

You trace them with gentle fingers.

"Don't ask," he says, laughing awkwardly.

"Okay."

You lean back in to kiss him. You’re a lot less confident than he is at initiating, but soon enough you get the hang of it, and he lets you. He doesn't take the reins; instead, he gives himself to you, lets you find your feet by yourself.

You attempt to copy him, kissing his jaw and then his neck, and you enjoy the way he sighs and relaxes under your lips.

As you move further down, teeth grazing his collarbone, he says, "you wanna move? Couch isn't exactly ideal."

You finish your work with a peck to the bump of his shoulder and say, "Sure."

There's some awkward shuffling, and standing in your bra and jeans is somehow more vulnerable than sitting on him, but nevertheless you take his hand and lead him through the door to your bedroom.

He doesn't have as much time to take this room in as the last one, because he wants you on the bed more than he cares to admit. When you flick on the bedside lamp, finally acknowledging how dark it's become now the sun's started going down, all he really notices is how warm the room is.

"Here," he says, manoeuvring you as he pleases. "Lay back, yeah?"

You do as he says, sitting facing him and pushing yourself back so you can lay down with your knees up. 

And then it happens: one of the many cataclysmic revelations of the evening.

"Good girl."

Again, you gasp, looking up at the ceiling.

"Good?" he asks.

"Really good," you tell him. You haven't really noticed that your hands have laid themselves across your chest, but he can't stop staring.

"That's it, see? Love when you tell me what you like."

One of his hands joins one of yours where it's fidgeting with your bra, and the other smooths down one of your legs, urging you to straighten them. You do, and again he says those fateful words: "Good girl. Gonna take these off, yeah?"

"Wait," you snap, sitting up and letting his hand fall so you can lean back with your weight on yours. "Can we do it together?"

"'Course."

"And can I… Can I undo yours?"

"Shit, sure you can."

You sit up and he takes your hands in his bigger ones, moulding them so you're tracing your fingers down the plain of his chest and stomach. You follow the dips and creases, the taught skin of his scars, and finally reach his belt.

He's mumbling nonsense at you, too caught up in everything to keep up the teacher façade, pinching your fingers between his so you can pull the leather through the buckle and get to his zipper.

When you unzip and brush something hard, he drops his hands and tips his head back in a sigh. It's an unfamiliar feeling under your tentative hands but it's not unknown.

"Wow," you breathe, not really meaning to say it out loud.

"Shit, gotta get these off-" He pulls back from your wanting grasp to shuffle out of his jeans, leaving his boxers in place for now. One step at a time.

"Your turn," he declares, smiling, jeans and socks gone. He reaches over to you again to return the favour, undoing buttons and the zip and his wide hand on your hip urges you to lift off the bed so he can pull the denim down your legs.

There's no turning back now; you can never again wonder what will happen the first time someone sees you (nearly) naked.

You've thought about this before, turned an infinity of possibilities over in your mind, but this was never one of them. Not one of them included a pretty boy, standing before you, just as exposed as you are, pawing at flesh and telling you you're beautiful.

His lips ghost over you, beginning at your shoulder and creeping lower. When he reaches the middle of your chest he looks up at you, the angle a little awkward. You nod.

"What're you doing?" you ask him, moving backwards again as he crowds you.

"I'm gonna take this off," he says, tugging lightly at the band of your bra, bringing himself level with you so he's breathing the words into your ear. "And then I'm gonna eat you out."

He may as well be a fire-breathing dragon. His words claw at your scalp like flames and fill your lungs with heat, pulling a sigh from within. You lean back, lying flat on the sheets, and let him have his way with you.

But he doesn't move, first admiring the way you respond and then waiting, lingering above you, too far away.

"What?" you hiccup, looking at him, confused.

"Need you to tell me this is what you want," he tells you.

"This is what I want," you repeat back to him. And then, taking the plunge, you add, "I want you to eat me out, Eddie."

You relish in his response, the way you can almost see him shiver, bare shoulders twitching and chest deflating with a shuddery exhale.

"Christ, yes, okay."

His fingers inch around your back so you arch it, letting him toy with the clasp of your bra. He gets it undone quicker than you expected, and you can't bring yourself to focus on where it goes once it's off because he's got his mouth back on your skin and now he's biting marks in places that would make your past self blush.

You feel his teeth on the swell of your boobs, first the left and then the right, and the rough pads of his fingers over your nipples.

"Shit," you hiss, and then, "no, shit, don't stop," when he halts for a second.

"Feel good?" he asks, muffled with his teeth grazing the stretch of skin across your ribs.

"Yes, yeah."

Gripping the sheets, you arch again, keening into him, chasing the buzz of his lips and the goosebumps they leave.

His fingers leave them, too, especially when they dance over your sides, that bit that makes you feel hollow if you drift over it the right way.

"Can I take these off?" he asks, lifting his head to look up at you from where he's sunk to his knees. You're staring at the ceiling, too preoccupied to meet his eye, and the sight makes him huff a laugh.

"Yes," you respond too quickly.

As you feel his fingers curl around the elastic, he says, "Okay, you're gonna have to give me a hand, alright? Tell me if it feels okay or if you want me to move. Or if you want me to stop, obviously."

"Yes, yeah, fuck, please Eddie-"

"Alright, alright," he laughs, pulling the material down over your knees and feet. At this rate, your bedroom floor must look like an explosion at the laundromat; dirty laundry everywhere, clothes all over the floor.

You're not sure why you're thinking about the logistics of tidying right now, though it doesn't last long, because the cool air on your core is a shock that jolts every limb.

Although he's wedged between them, you seem to have an instinctual reaction to the sensation of being exposed, your legs trying to close around him. His firm hands pull them apart, his fingers grasping the fat of your thighs, and then his lips.

They're on the softness between your legs first of all, nipping and pulling the skin between his teeth as he moves upwards. And then you feel them, the strange, wet contact. There's a feeling, something you think must be his tongue, licking upwards, before it makes contact with your clit.

The pressure is a thunderbolt to the centre, a shock that sends you arching off the bed with a gasp. Your grasp on the sheets tightens for a moment until you feel the roughness of his hair instead; without thinking, you've moved both hands to claw and pet at the crown of his head, earning a muffled moan when you tug ever so lightly.

He calls your name, pulling back, his words heard through cotton wool ears. "You're sure you haven't done this before?"

"Fuck, yes, Eddie I'm sure," you pant in response, desperate for the sensation of his mouth on you again. He obliges your unspoken craving, licking upwards again before settling comfortably at your clit. His firm hands dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs until one of them doesn’t, and before you can think too hard about it, you feel it just beneath his mouth.

The new feeling of his rough fingers on your cunt sends your eyes rolling back; you can't help but squirm and it's driving him wild, the way you're listening to him, the way you can't help but move, the way you're tugging at him without realising.

The gnawing tightness in your core nosedives when he slips, warm breaths replacing his mouth and fingers. You whine like a petulant child, making a noise you didn't know you could.

"I'm gonna use my fingers," he tells you, the distance between him and your cunt not enough to save you from the maddening huffs of breath as he talks. "Have you ever had anything inside before?"

It's funny, how nervous he sounds despite the fact he's knelt the way he is between your knees. His mouth was just all over you, and yet he's still a boy, turned stuttering by sex talk.

"No," you pant, "no, never."

"Okay, it might hurt, alright? You just gotta tell me to stop and I will."

"Okay," you agree.

He settles back into position, his weight rested on his elbows and his face and hand inching closer. You feel it, the stiffness of a finger, but the feeling is unusual and a little uncomfortable.

"You gotta relax," he tells you. "You overthinkin' it?"

"No," you bite defensively.

"It's okay."

You huff and lie back, dropping your shoulders.

"Do you ever…"

Another sigh.

"Do you ever touch yourself?"

There's a momentary flush of embarrassment, a conditioned response to being asked about this kind of thing, but you're here, in this position, naked, so you may as well be honest.

"Yes."

"Okay, what do you think about? When you do?"

"I, uh…"

"It's okay," he says quickly, "don't tell me. Just- just think about it now, right? Somethin' that turns you on."

Something that turns you on? What's turning you on right now is the handsome guy between your legs. His pretty inked skin, the stretch across his shoulders and the ripples in his back. His wide, firm hands, those obnoxious rings, the way he keeps telling you you're a good girl.

It swims in your mind, the vision of him cooing sweet praises, the fizzling memory of those words in his voice.

"That's it, you got it," you hear him tut, as though he can see inside your mind, read your thoughts. It pulls apart the tension in your core and across your shoulders, and then it's back, that feeling, the warmth and the fire, and you sink deeper into the pool of euphoria.

With one finger already half-way inside, he adds a second, his eyes trained on your face in case it's too much. But it's not; of course it's not. He knows he's good, but he doesn't think he's made a girl this happy in his whole life.

You feel it soon enough: there's a fizzing current that licks up from your cunt and into your gut where it lights your nervous system on fire. It runs laps around your body, pinpricks in your fingertips and behind your ears. You grasp at the sheets again, pulling, pulling, pulling, reaching for whatever you can to keep your body from floating away, because it really feels like that's about to happen; either that or you're going to implode, pulling the room and everything else with you like a black hole, hungry for more.

You barely notice the pants, your whiny moans and the repeated prayers of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, before you're coming apart. He's still going, riding you through it, basking in the sound of his name as it crawls from your mouth. So far he's kept his composure, ignored the searing pain under his boxers, but he doesn't think he'll hold out much longer.

"That's it," he coos, slowing down, rubbing soothing circles into your hip. You're panting, your breath hot and skin even hotter, and you can barely hear him when he speaks. The words carry, though, somehow; his praises of you did so good, and you're driving me wild, and, worst of all with the way it slaps you silly when it comes, I need to be inside you.

You sit up at that, holding yourself up on wobbling elbows to look at him. He's still knelt between your knees, hands resting on them, looking back at you with eyes turned dark and glistening skin. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and it takes you a minute to understand that he's waiting for your answer.

"Right," you breathe. "Yeah, okay." You scramble to sit up and twist yourself so you're lying the right way but he laughs and it makes you go cold.

"Chill out, take a minute, yeah?"

His hand hasn't left you; it's on your ankle now, rubbing those same circles over the bone.

All you can say is, "That was insane."

He laughs again, a softer noise this time, and says, "It was, huh?"

"Yeah." You flop back, head in the pillows and eyes on the ceiling above you, your own fingers tracing up and down your stomach.

He watches you from the floor. You're all flushed, glowing something rosy and sprinkled with dewy sweat. And then he watches your fingers, their absentminded journey up from your belly to the dip between your boobs, and back down. You repeat it over and over, and though it's an innocent, repetitive stroke, it's not helping the pressure between his legs.

"I'm gonna take these off," he tells you, giving your ankle a comforting squeeze and tugging his waistband with his free hand. "That okay?"

It dawns on you, as you look at him, that not only are you lying naked in front of a stranger, but that you are about to see that stranger's dick. A stranger who responded to your stupid ad in the paper, who's agreed to this for some stupid reason, and who is stupid handsome and stupid nice.

"Uh, yeah, okay."

He says your name again and it sounds so pretty when he does, and then he says, "We can stop if you want, you know. You don't have to do anythin' you don't want to."

"No, I want to," you say. "I just… This is a lot."

"Yeah," he says with a smile, that one that drips with charm and tugs at your gut. "But you're all good. Done so well so far."

Your body keens at the praise, your back lifting off the bed and it's then that you notice the feeling of want biting ugly marks into the pit of your stomach. You look at him, and he looks back at you, and all you can feel is a gnawing emptiness, a need to be full.

"Let's do this," you declare, sitting back up on your elbows and watching him with needy eyes. He sees it, the darkness that has settled in your irises, the itchy fidgeting of your hands on your sheets.

"Yes, ma'am."

Slowly, he stands and tugs his underwear down his legs and onto the floor. It all feels very real, now that he's stood before you like this.

He laughs at your wide eyes, trained on the straining erection he just let loose. You've never seen a dick in person before, and to be truthful you're not sure you've ever really seen one in a photograph or a video – the adult section at the rental store isn't exactly somewhere you often find yourself – so you have nothing to compare this to, but objectively it looks quite big.

"Will it fit?" you say before you can stop yourself. It comes out a squeak and makes him laugh yet again.

"Yes," he tells you, "it'll fit. But thanks for the ego boost."

He's on his knees on the bed beside you now, moving towards you until he can use his hands to move your legs apart. He settles himself between them and sits back on his heels, leaving one hand on your left leg and using the other to take one of yours. He intertwines your fingers, squeezes, and pulls you to sit up.

"Here," he says, bringing your hand to sit flat on his ribs. He's controlling his voice as best he can, hoping it doesn't sound as desperate as he feels right now. He can't help but stare at you, at how you're looking at him. 

"I'm gonna show you how to touch me, okay?"

"Yeah," you breathe. His hand moves yours down until it reaches patchy hair and then he curls your hand around his dick, his own hand still holding yours.

It's a new feeling, sure, but you're mostly enjoying the short hisses of breath he's letting out. When you move upwards without his help he almost moans, and you decide you'd like to do whatever it takes to make him do it again, and louder.

"Shit, okay, wait. Here-" He brings your hand away and lays it flat, palm up. "Spit."

You look up at him and find his wide brown eyes looking down at you, waiting.

So you spit into your palm, and he brings it back to himself, and moving is easier now.

"Fuck, okay… Yeah, just like that, that's it, shit-"

He drops his hand from yours and leaves you to find your own way, so you copy his pattern of up and down, slowly, twisting your hand as you go.

"Here, move your thumb over the- Fuck-"

You do as he says, perhaps too eager to please, and watch in awe as the muscles in his abdomen tense and he leans forward, resting his weight on one hand planted right beside your hip.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," he says, taking your wrist and pulling you away, ignoring the way you whine.

When he says, "We can worry about me another time," you try to ignore the brief fluttering it elicits deep within your chest somewhere. Dwelling on things said in the heat of this moment isn't fair, you decide; he surely doesn't mean it.

With warm, now familiar hands, he helps you lay back down.

"You got condoms?"

"Oh." You don't, and the truth you're about to tell him is mortifying. "No. They all expired a few months ago."

"That's fine," is all he says, and the fluttery feeling returns when he doesn't ask any follow up questions. No judgement, as promised. "Just wait here."

His hand leaves you at the last possible moment. As he moves off the bed it runs smooth down your leg and over your foot, like he's scared that if he lets go you'll disappear. You watch him hop awkwardly across the room and into your living room, the sight a refreshing injection of humour, helping you relax into the mattress again. He comes back with his jacket in one hand, which he drops on the floor after rummaging in the inside pocket and pulling out a red foil square. 

He pulls it open with fingers that you realise are shaking slightly, and you wonder if he's really nervous, and if so, if he's as nervous as you are.

It takes a few seconds but soon enough he's rolled it on, breath stuttering and dry, and then he climbs back to you and his hands return to your body almost as quickly as they left.

He's hovering over you now, his long hair tickling the sides of your face and the tops of your shoulders, all the places the sun hits on hot days. You're too caught up in watching his every move, too keen to really realise what you're saying before you ask: "Will you kiss me again?"

He smiles and dips down wordlessly, letting his lips slip against yours. It brings back the fluttering and the fizzy feeling, the craving for him. As your tongues move as one, you feel his hand by your thigh, and when he pulls back he says, "You ready?"

You nod, and then, remembering what he said earlier, cement it in words: "I'm ready."

"Alright, I'm gonna go slow, okay? It's gonna stretch more than earlier, but you just keep me clued in, yeah?"

"Yeah."

There's a new sensation at your core, of wetness and something rigid. He's moving against your folds, finding no purchase in the remnants of earlier on, but then he nudges your clit and you jolt upwards and that's when he finds what he was searching for.

He nudges in quickly at first, enough to make you whine a pained sound. He matches it with a low grumble, a vibration right by your ear.

"You okay?" he's quick to ask, head rising to look at you.

"Yeah, yeah, just- slow, please."

"I've got you."

He doesn't move for a beat, eyes trained on the scrunch of your nose. He kisses it and feels you relax, so he keeps kissing, quick flashes over your forehead, your temple, your cheek. Each one brings new relief and as your back hits the bed again, he eases himself in a little more.

The stretch is definitely different; more. There's a burn, but it doesn't completely hide the wave of pleasure you get in the fullness.

"Gonna go a bit more," he tells you, and he does just that, going half an inch further, still watching for any sign of discomfort.

When you bring your knees up by his hips, he knows you're past the worst of it. He chants praise, telling you that you're doing so well, taking me so well as he keeps going, all the way until he's seated inside you, up to the hilt. You breathe in a gasp, filling your lungs, realising you'd been holding your breath for too long. And as you open your eyes, you find him staring down at you with concern and something else.

"You good?" he whispers with his face so close you feel the words as they settle on your cheek.

"Yeah."

"Good girl."

He punctuates this with a kiss, and then another, over the hill of your jaw and onto your throat. Your hands claw up his back, pulling him in until you're sure that if he were any closer, you'd fuse into one.

"Okay," he finally says, lips against the peak of your shoulder. "I'm gonna move. I'll go slow at first."

"Okay."

The feeling of him pulling out is new and nice, but it's nothing compared to the opposite. The combination of the two, the repetitive motion he picks up, is something you want to chase forever.

As he moves, he quickens, trying his best to keep his eyes open and attentive; it's difficult, though, when you feel this good.

"Christ, you're so fuckin' tight, shit-"

"Eddie, this feels amazing, uh-"

Your stomach twists into a coil again, quicker this time, and tightens as he picks up the pace. Above you he's all guttural moans and pretty groans, his lips grazing your cheek each time he moves, and soon his thrusts become too much. You're panting his name and he's panting yours, and along with the sound of skin on skin, that's all you can hear until he speaks gravel-churned words into your ear.

"Shit, 'm so close, fuck- Gotta get you there, baby, huh? C'mon, need you to come for me."

His words are joined by sloppy fingers between your bodies. They fumble in the dark, prodding your belly before finding slippery purchase on your clit. Sparks light up your body and all you can do in response is let it arch into him with a yelp of his name.

"You close?" he asks.

"Yes, yeah, shit, yes," you splutter back. It's like a chase, and you're catching up, quickly, quickly, quickly.

All of a sudden there's a white-hot flash that burns every inch of your insides. You tense, your body yawning open for him, wide and wanting; he doesn't relent, thrusts harder than ever, chases you in return as he feels you tighten around him. You release, the coil snapping, and he brings the pace down to see you through to the end.

There's cotton wool in your ears again but you make out his praises: "That's it, that's it, atta girl… C'mon, I've got you, you did so well."

When your breathing turns regular and your eyes ease open, you feel a warm knuckle on your cheek. He's still going slow, rutting in and out of you with ease now, and when you finally look at him he asks, "Gonna keep goin', that okay?"

You nod, throat closed for the time being so you make it as certain a nod as you can muster. His thrusts become quicker again, and the more he speeds up the sloppier he becomes. You feel sensitive, too warm but also too desperate to see, hear, feel him come undone inside you. It's not long until your wish is granted; soon his groans turn to whimpers and whines, and he calls your name as he shudders to a violent halt. It's intoxicating, experiencing this from underneath him; if this is what everyone's been talking about all these years, you understand why.

The room sways and whistles as he rests his weight on you. His breath, right beside your ear, is like a hot, damp rag, pulling at your sticky skin and the thrum of rushing blood. You hear him groan and then the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. The bed bounces gently as he huffs and flops down beside you, and, god, you wish so badly that you could keep those flutters under control because his clammy hand finds yours between your bodies and it's nice to feel the affection he's so devoted to giving you.

Sighing, he says, "Shit."

You laugh, scrunching your face.

"Yeah," you agree, "shit."

He squeezes your hand.

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah. Really liked it."

"Okay for your first time?"

"Yeah." You turn onto your side to face him, looking up at his face. There are a few curls stuck to his pretty pink face, and you admire the bob of his throat as he swallows and the squeeze of his hand in yours.

"You're really pretty," you tell him. You're not sure if this is the post-O haze the magazines talk about, or if it's some kind of clarity, or if it's just that you have this boy in the palm of your hand and you suddenly can't bear the thought of letting him go. Instead you want to plant anchors, heavy lines that will keep him right where he is.

He turns his head to look at you and you see him flush even more.

"So are you," he whispers, with another squeeze and a kiss to your forehead.

There are a few minutes of quiet after that. The light outside is gone for good, so he's glowing a low golden in the light of your bedside lamp. He kisses you again with a fondness that surely shouldn't come with this exchange, which you had rationalised as just that: a transaction, a mutual agreement to get something done.

You see him open his mouth, as if to speak, but close it again, so you reach a tentative hand up and brush some hair from his eyes and trace your knuckle down his temple, urging him.

"My friends," he begins, hesitant, "they're having a party, next weekend. Steve, he only lives round the corner, we passed his house on the way here... You wouldn't wanna come, would you?"

"With you?" you whisper into the fizzy darkness.

"Yeah." He smiles, eyes fluttering shut under your sweeping fingers. "With me."

"Is it a date?"

"It can be, if you want. Or we can just, y'know, go as friends, or whatever."

"No one's ever asked me on a date before."

He smiles, and it's soft and curled with an affectionate pity; one that says I'm sorry, that's not fair, it's nothing to do with you.

"Well, wanna come?"

"I'd love to."

He pulls your hand up and brings it to his mouth, where he kisses your knuckles. Goosebumps raise across your thighs and arms, and you realise you're cold.

He seems to sense your discomfort because you feel him shift beside you. He pulls you up with him and helps you climb off the bed on wobbly legs.

"I should pee," you tell him, heeding the warnings of girlfriends past.

"You should," he says, a little deflated.

You don't move, though. To move would be to acknowledge the end – the end of the transaction, of the favour. It's not something you want.

"I, uh," you begin, stumbling, "Don't- Do you want-"

"I can go now, if you want-"

"No, no, it's okay, I mean, you can go if you want, that's fine, I just-"

Your eyes are darting all over the carpet, skimming discarded clothes, so you don't notice him reach up until he's touching your face, holding it in his palm.

"I'll stay, if you want me to."

"Yes, please."

He smiles at you, sticky with fondness and you can't help but smile back.

"I'm gonna shower," you tell him, leaning further into his grasp.

"I'll be here."

-

"Munson! You made it!"

In the middle of the busy room, there's a tall guy, broad and burly, like all the jocks you went to high school with. He's startlingly pretty, with golden hair and honeyed skin, a wide, bright smile plastered across his face.

He steps on unsure feet over to Eddie, who is stood partially in front of you; you're cowering behind him, willing the courage to lift you and push you into the arms of strangers. For now, holding his hand will do just fine.

"Hey, Harrington," Eddie greets, meeting him in one of those boyish embraces. You look around, taking in the faces; it's not the level of the high-school parties you used to go to, and definitely not the circus of the frat ones you've sometimes found yourself at, but it's busy enough. Where the guy – Harrington – came from, in the living room, there's a circle of people who are all smiling in your direction.

"Who's this?" The guy is looking at you over Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie tells Steve your name, and then turns to you. "This is Steve."

"Hi," you say to him, smiling, trying your best to hide the cruel nerves.

"Nice t'meet you!" he beams back. It's infectious; your smile turns firm and genuine in return. "Here, come meet the gang."

"C'mon," Eddie whispers to you with a kiss to the crown of your head. He pulls you through the entryway, into the large living room, following Steve. He drops your hand to give and return hugs, saying hello to each person. You stand and watch, unsure of what to do, until one of the girls – the first one Eddie greeted – appears by your side.

"Hey," she says, perhaps a little too close.

"Hi."

"I'm Robin." She sticks her hand out and you shake it clumsily.

Eddie's back, with his hand in yours again, on your other side. He calls her Rob and tells her your name, and then does the same for each person – Nancy, Jonathan, Will, Mike, Max, Lucas, Dustin, El – too many for you to remember tonight, but you have a feeling you'll see them again.

"Hi, guys," you return with a wave.

Everything settles after that. You take a seat next to Eddie on the couch, legs up and over his own, making conversation with Robin who you like a lot. Nancy comes over and introduces herself again and you find you like her, too.

And then Steve appears, having disappeared twenty minutes before. He's a little drunker, and he hands you and Eddie a can each. You take it gratefully and open it, taking a swig.

"So," he begins, sitting on the opposite side of the circle to yourself and Eddie. "You from Hawkins?"

"No," you tell him, and repeat the story you told Eddie.

"Sweet! So how'd you meet?"

You turn your head to look at Eddie and find him having done the same thing. His eyes are wide, just as wide as you're sure yours are.

"Uh," you begin, drawing out the sound to buy yourself time. 

"I did her a favour," he says, to your surprise, turning back to look at Steve with a sickly smile. "Just somethin' she'd put in the paper."

"That's so cute," Nancy says from behind you, her words chased by Robin adding a sarcastic, "Adorable."

The conversation moves on after that, and you turn around to Eddie again. He's looking back at you, his face pink and a smile tugging at his mouth. Before you can stop yourselves you're laughing, bursting into happy noises, bent double giggling.

He gives you another kiss, on the cheek this time, and quickly you settle back into conversations. The night is long and for the first time in a long time, it isn't lonely.

-

Hello! This is SO long - it really did take on a life of its own. I considered splitting it but couldn't find somewhere to do it, so I hope you enjoy this absolute beast nonetheless. I love you!

[eddiessluttywaist]

as if

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: eddie taunts reader daily, but… she kinda likes it? just never does anything about it. not until she has to tutor him, anyway.

pairing: bully!mean!perv!eddie munson x perv!fem reader

word count: 7,901 words

content/warnings: swearing, some angst at the beginning kinda, mention of death (barb), SMUT MDNI (y/n is 18), bully!eddie, mean!eddie, perv!eddie, bully kink (?), dominating, arguing, breeding kink, hate sex, brief masturbation mentions, mocking, teasing, anxiety kinda, spitting, invasion of privacy (eddie goes through her things), eddie’s a dirty lil pantie stealer and sniffer, y/n is a c*m sl*t, bulge kink(?), dacryphilia, groping, choking, daddy kink if you squint real hard, mentions of virginity (y/n is not a virgin), pet names (doll face, princess), degradation (use of slut). i think that’s all pls tell me if i miss anything!

a/n: i have to say tbh i don’t see eddie ever being a bully so this is technically like an au!eddie?…but also… uhhhh very hot. makes my brain wiggle with heat waves so here we are. hope you like it! <3

part two - part three

*

As if.

It’s a simple statement, really, and you meant no harm when you said it. It was just something to be said… that didn’t mean he didn’t hear it though.

That also didn’t mean it didn’t tick him off.

You were surprisingly pretty to be in the geek group, but in the cruel and tyrannical world of high school girls..? Alas, no amount of lip gloss or cute skirts could free you of the fact that you were smart. Not only smart, but a geek. A nerd—who was shy around most—and you got along with nearly all of the teachers because of how well-behaved and intelligent you were. And, on occasion—although you always tried your best to not come off this way—a bit of a know-it-all.

That was the final nail in your coffin, really. Correcting Carol Perkins in American History in front of everyone back in your freshman year. (Her sophomore year and already irritable about having to take a freshman course 2 years in a row). You meant well, but she had it out for you ever since. The tyrant, as it was, made it entirely impossible for you to make your way up the food chain.

So in your sophomore year of high school, back in Autumn of ‘83, you were among the peasants just like him—even as a senior (for the first time). He took a quiet interest in you. You were cute and soft-spoken. You were a sophomore, though, and the fact that you were 15 at the time made the 17 year old scrunch up his nose whenever he remembered. He could still look, though, right? There was no harm in that…

Nancy and Barb took notice of it all pretty quickly. The way that the senior would scan over your outfits everyday. The way that he might’ve smirked a little if you had to bend over to pick something up, simply staring at your behind rather than coming over to get your things for you. The pair would exchange glances that you were adorably unaware of, over his attention that you were also so endearingly oblivious to. One day, they finally burst over it in the hallway, and he overheard.

“I think a senior likes you.” Nancy teased, gripping her Geometry textbook to her chest.

“What?” You had let out a slight laugh, digging through you locker. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh my god, seriously?” Barb interjected. “Aren’t you supposed to be smart? Observant?”

You were all wide-eyed over that, pouty lips opening and then closing as you struggled to find your words before finally landing on a frustrated huff and a simple “Shut up.”

“He stares at you all the time.” Nancy pushed with a teasing smile.

“Like you can talk.” You teased, slamming your locker shut before resting your back against it. “Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington is totally all over you.” You smirked at the way her face instantly heated up.

“I- He- It’s not like that.” She insisted, completely flustered. And while Barb agreed with you, she wasn’t interested in letting you direct the conversation elsewhere.

“Besides he’s just a Junior. The guy who likes you is a Senior.” Nancy tacked on.

“Like there’s really that big of a difference?” You raised a brow.

“There is.” Barb scoffs.

“Well then if it’s such a huge deal… can’t you just tell me who it is?”

“You seriously don’t know?” Barb questioned and the ginger-brunette pair tilted their heads while they looked at you with a sort of exasperated disbelief. You just gave them that wide eyed look again and shrugged your shoulders.

Barb broke first with a scoff and a bright smile. “Eddie Munson. He stares at you all the time.”

Eddie Munson. He wasn’t popular by any means, but he was still a Senior. He was still attractive to you, and could still make an underclassmen blush if he gave them any attention simply because he was older and a little dangerous. He just didn’t show any interest in any of the other younger students, just a little curiosity towards you.

“Eddie Munson?” You had laughed a little, which made him furrow his brows as he listened in just around the corner of the hall at his own locker. You were being dismissive out of nerves, not out of any sort of malicious intent, but that’s not how he took your tone. After all, he was a cynical man.

“As if.”

*

After that he was a bit bitter towards you. Then he was a little mean. And then he was just plain cruel. He was an asshole. He was a bully.

Since his interest being pointed out to you, you occasionally glanced over at him to see if he really was staring. But he either acted like you didn’t exist, or whenever his gaze did meet yours the corners of his lips turned down and his brow frowned with disgust before looking elsewhere.

When Barb went missing, you and Nancy were temporarily joined at the hip in your efforts to figure out what happened. Then one day Nancy went cold on you. Started making excuses and hardly speaking to you otherwise. You didn’t understand, finding yourself completely alone as you scattered “Missing Person” posters all over Hawkins.

You had no idea what happened with Barb at the time and still had no clue what happened with your friendship with Nance to this very day. Maybe the loss was too much. Maybe Nancy couldn’t handle the reminder of your perfect trio. She was always closer to Barb than you. Maybe Barb missing and then turning up dead made it too difficult for her to face you. Maybe she was all caught up in two guys being completely obsessed with her, which admittedly made you a little jealous.

Soon enough you seemed to be completely off one another’s radars. It made high school even lonelier for you. You eventually found some new friends in other corners of the “Smart Kids” lunch table, but it was never like it was with Nancy and Barb.

So by the time he started getting a little mean, there wasn’t really anyone to protect you. Your new friends were skittish around the metalhead. Nance and Barb would’ve stood up for you once, but that support system was obliterated back in ‘83.

So when he shoved past you in the halls later in your sophomore year, no one gave it any thought. When he was pulling your hair in your Junior year then acting all innocent when you turned around to confront him, still no one cared. Now in your Senior year—and him in his third—whenever you thought he couldn’t be worse, he proved you wrong and did so with a devilish grin.

He pulled your hair. He tripped you. He stood behind you in line at lunch and would flip up the back of your skirt. He smacked your books out of your hands. He openly mocked you while leaning back in his chair at lunch with that smug look on his face. He mimicked your contributions in class under his breath, knowing you’d hear him and trip over your words. He snuck filthy messages into your locker that made your face burn with embarrassment and disgust—disgust for him and for the way his perverted words made your thighs press together. He would speed up whenever you were walking or biking home just to scare the shit out of you. He would take any opportunity to shove you or throw things at you or press his body up against yours in a derisive and vulgar manner—especially in gym class. He would “playfully” hump you from behind and nearly knock you over whenever you bent over and there was no teacher paying attention. Or spank you. Or pinch your ass.

He was horrible. Disgusting. Obnoxious. Crude. Vile. He made you go home with tears in your eyes most days, but the worst part was how much you liked the attention. You hated yourself for it. You wished you were running to the nearest adult to tell them every last thing he did to you. You wished you were standing up to him and calling him a disgusting pig in front of everyone which surely would’ve pulled out some “Ooo”s and maybe even some of the Seniors that hated him would’ve joined in. Maybe even had your back, even if it was temporary.

But you didn’t because by now when he pulled your hair, you had to refrain from whimpering or moaning. When he tripped you, you thought of the things he could do to you now you were already on your hands and knees. When he flipped up your skirt you always gasped and shoved him away, secretly hoping he’d do it again—even starting to wear only your cutest pairs of panties to school. When he smacked your books out of your hands, you actually liked that it was him causing you to bend over or get on your knees to collect your things again. When he decided to mock you from over at his spot at lunch, you got butterflies from the way he said your name and the way his dimples sunk into his cheeks. When he mimicked you in class, you tripped over your words because his voice and tangible presence got you all flustered and hot. When you got to your locker, you secretly hoped to see the torn off corner of some notebook page flutter onto the floor with the most obscene words. When he sped up to scare you, you thought about screaming something so bold at him that he would screech to a halt and reverse before telling you to get in his van, now.

You liked when he threw things at you like balled up paper to your cheek in class or a basketball to your side in gym. You liked when he shoved you or pressed against you because in his attempts to intimidate you with his touch and his proximity, it made your knees weak. You liked how he pinched your ass or gave it a little smack when you bent over and your teacher wasn’t looking. And you loved when he would thrust up against you whenever you were bent over and there was no teacher around at all, because his bulge pressed up against you (even while he was laughing devilishly) made you ache.

He was so utterly horrible to you, and yet when you found yourself grinding on your hand at night on top of your pink, white and yellow quilt—you were thinking about him and how mean he was. You were thinking about how mean he would be as he fucked you. Taunting you and teasing you and mocking you. You spasmed around your fingers and choked down your cries at the thought of him bullying your cunt.

It was all a fantasy, though. He never interacted with you longer than a few seconds, and was always with him in control. If you walked up to him and told him you wanted him to fuck you like the bully he was, he probably would’ve died laughing right before your eyes and told everyone he knew about your embarrassing lust for the guy who made your life a living hell. But now you were being cornered into spending time with him, and being faced with a real-life scenario where you were together made your palms sweat.

“I know he’s a difficult young man, but if you tutor him I’ll figure something out with the principal. Some sort of extra credit maybe.”

“There’s no one else that could tutor him?” You choked out, nerves on edge. Ms. O’Donnell gave you a sympathetic smile and shook her head.

“All busy.”

Busy, my ass you wanted to huff out. They were probably all avoiding him like the plague. O’Donnell was desperate to get his grade up and get him out of the damn school, which you didn’t blame her for, but god… why you?

“Okay…” You relented, a sad twitch for a smile when she sighed in relief and thanked you incessantly.

“I’ve already spoken to him about needing a tutor, I’ll let him know the good news, okay?”

You nodded with a meek “okay,” and tried to go on with the rest of your day as if you weren’t wracked with fear, excitement, concern over your excitement. You were on edge all day, and nearly jumped out of you seat when you were called to the office over the speakers about 5 minutes to the end of your last class. You swallowed anxiously, collecting your things and trying to ignore the “ooo”s over you being summoned to the principal’s office—assuming you were in trouble.

You trudged towards your destination, pausing when you spotted him slack in one of the chairs by the front desk that he frequented more than anyone else. You considered running in the opposite direction and making up some lie to Ms. O’Donnell the next day, but then Mrs. White beamed at you after happening to glance away from her clunky typewriter.

“Miss Y/L/N! Come on in, dear.” She spoke cheerfully in a way that went through you sideways. Eddie’s eyes shot up to you, smirking around the fingernail he was chewing at and clearly considering spitting it at you if Mrs. White hadn’t been paying attention. You toyed with the ends of your sleeves anxiously, listening to Mrs. White discuss the details Ms. O’Donnell had ready. What topics to go over (which was just about everything). How many times per week she wanted you to tutor him (at least once/week). The only thing left out was when and where.

“Oh that’s up to you two, hon.” She chirped. “Just compare your schedules.”

“It’s not in school? With a teacher around?” You questioned anxiously, but she was oblivious to your worries.

“Nope, no need for supervision. We like to give the tutors space from the teachers while they work with others, we find that the students that need help take to that better.”

“Sure do.” Eddie spoke up, and you nearly flinched at how close he sounded. You glanced over and he must’ve just gotten out of the hard plastic chair cause he was slightly leaned back to give his body a stretch causing his chest to puff out a little, his hands moving to rest by his hips as he tugged his jeans up.

“What? Scared of me ‘r somethin’?” He whispered playfully, a hand moving up to rest over his heart as he feigned offense before his act melted away to show his usual smirk. He winked at you, and you swallowed nervously as you looked back at Mrs. White again who was blissfully unaware of his malevolence.

“So here you go… those worksheets and… a time sheet.” The woman grinned as she placed the last paper on top before sliding everything over. “You just have to add the dates that you study together, and you both have to sign each time. Ms. O’Donnell said writing a quick synopsis of what you went over would be nice too, but not necessary. The most important thing is seeing a difference in Mr. Munson’s grades.”

“Sounds good to me, Pam.” Eddie smiled at Mrs. White whose sunny demeanor sunk into a more serious expression while you put the papers away neatly in one of your folders.

“What have we talked about, Mr. Munson? Use my first name again and you’ll find your butt in detention this Saturday for such disrespect. Again.”

He puts his hands up as if apologizing for his actions, but he was still grinning ear to ear. Mrs. White eyed him with a tight lipped scowl, then looked at you.

“Good luck.”

You were gonna need it.

*

The ride to your house in his rusty van was surprisingly quiet beyond his music. You were on edge which he enjoyed like always, but he was clearly saving the torment for when he was inside your home. You wished your parents were home, even if they were tucked away in another room, but they were both gone for the weekend to attend your Aunt’s wedding. Not that you’d let him know that.

“We’ll be studying in the dining room. And no funny business. My dad’s in his office and he doesn’t like being disturbed while he’s working.” You lied seamlessly, making your way over to the dining table, Eddie lazily sauntering along.

“Oo does daddy have a temper?” He teased in a whisper. “Gonna come out and spank you if you bother him too much?”

He gave you a mocking pout and your face scrunched up with irritation.

“Just sit so we can get this over with.”

“I’m sorry are you under the false impression that you’re in charge here, doll face?” He questioned, keeping his anger mostly disguised by his inquisitive tone.

“Well, I’m the tutor so-“ You scoff out, avoiding looking at him as you pulled all of your study materials from your bag.

“Yeah and that means something to me because…?” He drew out his last word as he spun on his heels and casually walked away.

“I- what-“ You sputtered. “What are you doing?”

“You know it’s awfully rude to have a guest and not give them a tour of the place.” He spoke casually, grabbing the ends of picture frames hanging on the walls to get a better look at them before letting them drop back again. You were hot on his heels, fixing every frame he left crooked. He paused at a picture of you from camp in a bikini with some of the friends you made that summer, smug and sucking at his teeth a little as he eyed the image of you.

“Real cute…still got it?” He looked over at you, his hair shifting over his shoulder as he eyed you. “Wanna model it for me? Make all this worth my while?”

Your cheeks were starting to turn pink.

“We have to study.”

“Eh.” He shrugs, and looks over to spot the staircase behind him. He slunk around the corner and made his way up the carpeted steps.

“Hey- hey! You’re not allowed up there!” You shout after him, rushing to follow after him. He was already on the second floor when he turned and shushed you.

“Don’t wanna make daddy angry, right? He’s hard at work if I’m remembering correctly.” He whispered with a joking concern for your father’s focus who wasn’t even here, and you worried he knew that. He continued on along the hallway and you stayed behind him, wishing there was something you could do to get him to stop. He opened doors along the way, inspecting the interior with a mild curiosity. The upstairs bathroom. Your parent’s room. The spare bedroom. Then-

“Ah, here we are.” Your bedroom at the end of the hall.

“Please get out of my room.” You pleaded, but he continued on his quest. He looked at the makeup on your vanity, toppling some of the products over like a careless cat before moving on. He toyed with any photos in your room, sniffed at the perfume bottles on your dresser.

“Eddie-“ You started, clenching your jaw as he found the perfume you wore the most often and sprayed some of it on the crotch of his jeans. Then he just kept a hold on it as he waltzed around your room, spraying it several times just to waste your favorite product.

“That’s rude.” You spoke up, your lips pouting slightly. He snickered at your comment, how you sounded like a wronged child.

“Aw well if you need to touch up your perfume at all, you know where to get it.” He grinned, pointing to his groin before continuing to go through your things. The concept was strange but still made you clench simply from the thought of having to rub at his bulge to get something you wanted. He didn’t waste that much of your fragrance, but the idea was still burning in your mind.

He muttered disapproving comments at the posters on your walls and the cassettes he rummaged through until he got bored. You were nervous about interfering even as he invaded your privacy, until he was opening your top drawer to go through your panties and bras.

“Hey! That’s too far!” You gasp, rushing over to slam the drawer closed again. He shoved you back and opened it again.

“Quit being so fucking uptight.”

“Quit going through things that don’t belong to you!” You talked back which was still surprising him every time you did, but certainly didn’t let it show.

“Yeah well quit pissing me off before I put you in your fucking place.” He seethes, giving you an angry warning look that felt like fire all over you. You wanted to cry, to tell him to stop being so mean to you, but it would be useless. You’d just end up feeling pathetic as he laughed over your misery. You just had to stand there and watch as he kept going through your underwear drawer.

“Ooh, cute. I don’t think I’ve seen these yet.” He clicked his tongue and blew out an impressed breath as he held up a black lacy number. “‘d love to leave some stains on these for you, doll face.”

“You’re disgusting.” You blurt out, but the thought of his cum spurting onto your new pair of panties made you feel warm. He smirked at your frustration, tucking the underwear into his pocket.

“Those are new!”

He shrugs, shoving the drawer closed again with enough careless force to knock over a picture frame perched on top. He doesn’t seem to care until he’s spinning around with his finger pointed at you and that wicked look on his face.

“You know what, though? You bring up a great point.” He tugs the lace from his pocket and holds it up to his nose before letting out a disappointed sigh. “Now that’s a problem. Still smell like whatever cutesy store you got ‘em from.”

You have a moment of hope that he’s trying to be nice and provide an opportunity to give them back to you, even if he’s going about it in a dirty way. But that doesn’t last long, even when he’s tossing them back to you.

“Why don’t you put ‘m on for me, huh? Then when you give ‘em to me on my way out I’ll have proof of how fucking wet I get you.” He spoke so smoothly as he got closer to you, that it almost blanketed the filth of his words as something soft or even sweet.

“As if.” You scoff out in a huff, and there’s a fury to his gaze that you don’t understand.

“Yeah… as if.” He murmurs darkly, getting closer to you. You swallow nervously and take a step back. “Cause fuck me, right? I’m just some good-for-nothing asshole who you wouldn’t give the time of day. Not a priss like you.”

“I-I’m not a-“

“Oh dad!” He’s suddenly shouting at the top of his lungs in a sing-song manner, his body whipped around to face your doorway, and your eyes go wide.

“Stop-“

“Hey! I just wanna meet Mr. Y/L/N! Spending time with your lovely daughter!” He spoke with a passionate respect that you knew was coming from a hateful place. He had gone to your doorframe and was listening for any kind of response. A verbal acknowledgement. The sound of steps or creaking floorboards to tell him there was actually going to be someone to confront him.

His grin became devious as he went to the steps again. “Hello?” He calls, dragging out that last vowel.

“Will you quit it!” You hiss, tears prickling at your eyes now at the thought of him realizing you were all alone. Just you and him. And that you had lied to him.

He was turning around, sure now that the only people in this house were you and him. His dimples were pushing into his cheeks again as he sucked at his teeth, approaching you at the doorway to your bedroom like a cocky killer. The kind that you saw in horror movies that knew they had their prey cornered and could have some fun with it.

Out of nerves and a need to keep a barrier between the two of you, you took a quick step back and went to slam your door shut so you could lock it, but he got there in time to stop in with an outstretched arm. He pushed it open so harshly that you were sure there would be a dent in your wall where the doorknob was forced into it.

God, you couldn’t stand the way he looked right now. So proud. So smug. That shit-eating grin that told you he knew he was winning. That fury from before still lingering. He noticed the gloss to your eyes and tuts as a mocking pout reaches his lips.

“Upset about somethin’, doll? Someone got you all worked up?”

You huff out your nose, your lips screwed into a frown and your eyes still stinging with unshed tears.

“You’re so… so… mean! I hate you!” You shout, and without even realizing it you had stomped your foot at your last statement. It makes him pause, his expression unreadable for a moment as he considers everything until it all lands on amusement. He crosses his arms over his chest, grin wild and his hair flowing with him as he tilts his head with intrigue.

“Did you just stomp your foot at me, princess?” He teases, and your face feels so hot you wonder if he can see the flush of pink even through your foundation. He can. You refuse to answer him, fighting back the urge to fully cry in front of him. He’s getting closer though until he’s brushing up against you and looking down at you. God, he’s so warm.

“Aw… such a sensitive girl. Look at you.” He murmurs as he continues backing you two up until you’re pressed against the wall, one of those posters he disapproved of crinkling against your hair. He’s making fun of you like always but there’s a softness around the edges of his words. Blurred by a desire to do just about anything to you. He reaches his hand up to drag the pad of his thumb over your pouty lower lip before bringing his hand down to grasp you by your chin.

“Bet your pussy’s just as responsive as the rest of ya, huh?” He whispers as he makes you look up at him. Your nostrils flare momentarily and you keep looking up at him but you still won’t speak and you still won’t let those tears fall.

“I bet your cunt is just as weepy. All hot and wet when I’m fucking you into shape.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to refrain from whimpering or letting your lips part for a soft sigh. Anything that would confirm how badly you want him to figure out just how right he is. But then his anger flares back up as he’s gripping your jaw now, squeezing just enough to make it uncomfortable.

“Speak when you’re spoken to.” He demands in a low voice with a sort of growl to it that makes your knees weak. You part your lips as you consider answering him like you’re told, and he raises his brows while waiting. Then, in a brazen defiance, you spit in his face instead.

He’s so solid it’s almost like he doesn’t care. Not a flinch or a crack in his demeanor. Then he’s moving his hand from your jaw to your throat and gripping onto it enough that you gasp.

“I’ve been spat on my whole fucking life, you think that’s gonna make a difference here, princess? Think that’s gonna make me respect you? Think you’re brave?”

Your hands reach up to rest over his on your neck, a mewl vibrating from the back of your throat. He leans in closer to your face, your lips parting wider as he tightens his grip.

“It just makes me think you’re stupid.” He finishes before spitting directly into your open mouth. He’s releasing you from his grip right after, wiping your saliva from his cheek while you catch your breath. A soft moan escapes you before you can keep it at bay and his inflated ego is tangible. He’s eyeing you with a sort of amazed intrigue that pulls him back to you, his arms lifting to place his hands on the wall on either side of your head.

“You like it, don’t you?” He laughs and you shake your head furiously, but he isn’t buying it. “You could’ve gotten my ass suspended—hell, even expelled—ages ago. And yet…?”

“I just felt bad that you’re such a fucking idiot.“

“Dirty girl.” He hisses inward through his teeth as if burned by your words, but you were just egging him on.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” He wondered in a soft tone, hand back to your jaw as you stayed quiet. “Will you kiss daddy with that mouth?” He added with a lazy grin, exuding dominance and arrogance.

You became a little slack jawed at the implication, and he was on you. Hand still on your jaw, he pressed his lips to yours. You feigned protest at first with a few kicks and smacks, but then he had your wrists pinned against the wall and you sunk into the kiss. He kept you pinned for a few moments, until he was sure you were relaxed. He dropped his hands down to completely engulf your waist in his arms, and keep you pressed against him. The kiss was filthy with anger-fueled lust and slips of moans on your end and grunts from his.

“I hate you.” You whispered in between kisses, his hands moving to grip your ass now.

“Yeah you do.” He chuckled proudly against your lips before beginning to trail his lips down your jaw to your neck. Your eyes fluttered closed, hands settled on his muscular back as he sucked and bit at your neck, messy hair tickling you. More sounds slipped from you with no attempt to hold them back, a teary whimper hanging on your lips after he bit down on your neck hard enough to pull a yelp from you.

“Gonna mark you all up…” He muttered against your skin, making your head swirl.

“Gonna have you walking into school and have everyone know who you belong to.” He pulled back now, breathless and his full lips all pink with attention. His eyes were dark with lust, and it all made you whimper. The sound made him laugh in disbelief.

“Yeah? Such a slut. Bet you can’t wait to walk in with my hickeys all over you. Might even fuck you in the back of my van beforehand. Make you go to class full of my cum.”

You almost can’t believe him or yourself as you nod your head dumbly with a desperate pout. He groans at the sight and pulls you to him again, his lips back on yours as his hands reach down to hook under your thighs and lift you up. You’re quick to wrap your legs around his waist, a soft cry escaping when he starts grinding against you. He’s so hard and feels so pressed into his jeans, you’re both afraid and alight at the thought of just how big he probably is.

Eddie made his way over towards your bed until his legs made contact with your bed frame. He pulled away from the kiss to drop you on the bed carelessly. You lifted your torso up by digging your elbows back into your mattress, legs bent up at the knee and parted for him while you watched him undo his belt. He noticed you staring, and his gaze traveled along your form. Your knit sweater. Your pleated skirt.

“Take that shit off.” He said with a slight jut of his chin in the direction of your top, hands paused at the waist of his jeans and boxers. You hesitated at first, mostly at his hesitation to pull down his bottoms, but also out of nerves that your body wouldn’t be good enough. He made fun of you for just about everything. Surely he would tease you for that too.

“Did I fucking stutter?” His voice rose just a touch, his expression showing his impatience. At that your eyes went a bit wide again, and you lifted your sweater over your head and then the t-shirt you had on underneath. His hand was under his undone jeans, palming himself through his boxers as he looked over your naked torso.

“Bra too.” He murmured, and your nerves subsided from the way he looked at you. It was all hunger and lust and some impatience, but that was common. But no mockery. He wasn’t gearing up to make fun of your body cause he’s been waiting to see it. It was even better than he imagined, and he stopped a groan in his throat when you unclasped your bra and put it off to the side.

“Fuck…” He sighed out, squeezing his hard cock in his fist. You arched your back, which he initially enjoyed, until he realized your hand was moving to unzip the back of your skirt.

“Hey.” His harsh tone broke through, his free hand slapping your thigh. “Did I say take the skirt off?”

Your lips parted, and he jerked his head forward with a wide, frustrated gaze. It was as if he was saying “Hello? Earth to Y/N?”

He rolled his eyes as you shook your head no, and moved your hands away. He muttered under his breath and settled himself between your legs before deciding you weren’t close enough. His hands grasped your thighs to pull you closer, a surprised giggle bubbling in your chest from the action. He didn’t acknowledge it because he was trying to not let it show that it made him want to smirk. Just like when you get all teary-eyed. Or stomp your feet. Or finally get enough nerve to talk back. Even getting a giggle out of you made him smug, despite the fact that he had only ever seemed to enjoy making you miserable.

Eddie flips your skirt up onto your stomach, licking his lips at the sight of the light blue cotton panties he had already seen in the lunch line today. He finally tugged his jeans and boxers down below his balls, and started pumping his dick in his hand. Your nerves lit up at the sight of it—thick and with a bit of a curve to it. You wanted to see more of him, but the likelihood of that was slim to none. He enjoyed the control he had in this relationship, and that meant he liked having you almost completely naked in front of him while he was practically still dressed. He smirked as pre-cum beaded up on his tip and let it drip onto the fabric of your underwear. He dipped down to drag his tip along your covered slit to make a mess of your panties with his pre-cum. You inhaled sharply at the feeling, biting the inside of your lip whenever he nudged your clit.

“I like these panties…” You complained, knowing how much better it would be for him to ruin a pair of underwear you love.

“Aw…” He tutted, leaning over you as he mimicked the pout on your lips. “Don’t tell me that cause then I might have to cum all over them. ‘N I thought you wanted it inside.”

You mewled again, nodding your head which he mimicked too. The little shake of your head, the sound you made.

“Such a whiny, needy girl.” He said as if he cared. He hooked a finger under your panties and tugged at them, fighting the fabric over your legs one handed before holding them up to his nose. His eyes were trained on the sight of your sopping pussy as he breathed in, his cock twitching in his fist. He cursed under his breath, only pulling the fisted cloth away to stuff into his back pocket. His now free hand moved forward to drag his fingers through your slit, proud to feel how soaked and puffy you were already.

“You a virgin, doll?” He purred, tilting his head with a sickeningly sweet grin, the curled corners of his lips devilish. It was saccharine and mean. He figured you’d say yes because no one at school seemed to want you, but then you shook your head.

You lost your virginity at that summer camp you were at in the picture he was ogling earlier. It was awkward and felt strange, and you didn’t have much experience beyond that, but you weren’t a virgin. You thought he’d like you better this way anyways, already ready for him to fuck, but it ticked him off.

“No?” He asked, pushing two thick fingers into your cunt and making you gasp. The pressure on that sweet spot right at your entrance was buzzing with pleasure, but it still ached a little. “Guess you’re the little slut I always thought you were, hm?”

He was pushing his fingers in deep and curling them up into that spongy spot that made you whine and your thighs tremble.

“Who is he?” Eddie urged, his expression back to the irritation you were familiar with. You weren’t answering, all of your focus on his thick fingers and the rings that adorned them pinching the edge of your entrance.

“Who. Is. He?” He repeated, moving his face a bit closer to yours in bursts with every word, his head tilting to the left then to the right then back to the left to punctuate his words. He was slowing it down for you like you were dumb, and his fingers stopped moving—all of this making you huff.

“No one-“ You whine hopelessly, and he was starting to pull his hand away but you shot yours out to grip his wrist and keep his fingers deep between your legs. “No one, no one important.” You continued. “It was at summer camp, he’s not even from here. Please-“ you nearly sobbed, and it was enough to make the man groan as he leaned over you.

“Oh… please what, doll face?” He murmured, hand that had just been wrapped around his dick sinking the mattress down beside your head.

“Please- please don’t stop.” You whimper softly and he smiles sweetly down at you while pulling his hand away anyways. It was just for a second, enough to make you want to cry, but then he was plunging them back into your fluttering hole again. He added a third finger, barely giving you even enough time to enjoy the first two, the stretch making your lips part a little.

“God, you’re desperate.” He snorted, his hand angling a bit differently to let his thumb catch your clit. He watched with pride as your head tilted back and your back arched. Your thighs kept twitching and your walls were clamping down around his fingers more and more—he could tell you were close.

“Eddie…” You drawled, breath catching as your body braced itself for the mind-altering pleasure of your orgasm, but just as you approached the top—he pulled his hand away. You let out a distressed cry that made him laugh. He cooed at you, his hand that had been pumping his cock moving to rest on your cheek. Knowing where it had been made it even better, made it filthier. It made you wonder how many times he had just touched his dick before touching you.

“That’s for letting some random loser fuck you.” He whispered after leaning down so close that his nose was occasionally brushing against yours.

“‘m sorry…” You whine, tears of pleasure and pain having already slid down from your eyes and back towards your ears—leaving your hair damp and cold.

“You’re sorry, what?” He urged, nudging his tip against your folds.

“I’m sorry I let someone else take my virginity.” You were a blubbering mess, teary-eyed and needy.

“You’re gonna make up for it, though, right?” He purred, his tip already pressing into you and you nodded enthusiastically with a cry, your hips twitching forward.

“That’s my girl.”

Your lips parted, your lower lip quivering when he pushed into you until his hips were flush with your ass. You let out a sort of choked whimper and he groaned.

“Fuck you’re tight…” He sighed with content, sliding back before sinking back in until his tip was kissing your cervix. “Not even a virgin and I’m still gonna have to work to split this cunt open, huh?”

He was grinning again over that, over the grip your walls had on him from such a foreign stretch. It ached in the best way possible except for the occasional thrust that pinched and made you yelp out a small “ow.”

“S-so big… you’re so big…” You babble, your mind fuzzy. Your pupils were all blown out and you watched him fuck into you like it was the best dream you ever had. You eventually tilt your head back, letting out a happy hum as your hips push outward to feel him as deeply and as harshly as possible. He mimicked the sounds you made and the expressions you made from his thick cock hitting all the right places and stretching you enough that you knew you were going to be sore. All day tomorrow you were going to get brief pangs of aching that would remind you of how full you were of Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He was all you could focus on, and you didn’t even realize you had been whimpering his name over and over under your breath until he made fun of you for it.

“Fuck you.” You huffed defensively, only for his amusement to bolster.

“Ha!” He cackled right in your face as you looked up at him with glossy eyes, pink cheeks and pouty lips. “Already are, sweetheart.”

Soon enough your sounds annoyed him though, especially the more demanding they got. Harder. Faster. Slower. More. Please. So he flipped you over onto your stomach and had his hand on your head to press your cheek into the mattress as he mounted you again—all with a casual “God, just shut up.”

At this new angle he was driving into you with a force that reverberated throughout your whole body every time he slammed into your cervix or that gushy part of you. You felt dizzy and breathless, every stroke of his cock against your ridged walls shooting off sparks. After being so close just from his hand to now, you were steadily approaching an orgasm again—just praying he’d let you keep it this time. He must’ve noticed because his free hand was reaching down to rub your clit. Your eyelids fluttered, a sob being muffled by the comforter you were biting down on. The sound of skin smacking, the tired springs of your bed squeaking, Eddie’s panting and grunting, the chain of his wallet clinking every now and then, the wet and pornographic sound of his cock plunging in and out of your pussy—it all seemed so loud for a second and then felt muffled the next as you came undone around him. You moaned out his name, whimpering cries on the tail end. You could feel your walls fluttering around him, clamping down and then blossoming back open then clamping down again in a mind-swirling rhythm.

“That’s a good girl…” He purred in a way that might’ve been too sweet from him if it wasn’t laced with a condescending tone. “Gonna cum in you, ‘kay?”

“Uh-huh-“ You moan, body aching as he picks up the pace again, fingers tangled in your hair with a painful grip. You can’t see him, but his head is tilted back completely blissed out as he fucks into you. You felt amazing, even better than he imagined which was pretty damn astonishing considering the pedestal he already had your pussy on in his imagination. He was so close, and a brief thought of getting you pregnant nearly sent him over the edge. He was mean. So fucking mean. That was the most devious thing he could do. Fill you up and make you all round with his kid.

“Shit-“ He pants out. “Gonna fill you up, babe.”

“Please-“ You beg, pulling an incredulous chuckle from him.

“Such a good girl… always take everything I give her.” He breathes out, leaning down to trap your body between him and your bed, his hand moving your hair away from your face. “Takes everything I give her at school, and she’s gonna take everything I give her in her bed, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, please-“ You sob, gasping out with the next few sharp thrusts against you until there was this warm feeling blooming inside you as he groaned against your back. He gave a few more thrusts after cumming inside, letting out happy puffs of air. You remembered how content that guy was when he unloaded into his condom inside you in camp. That blissful look on his face before he pecked your lips then lied next to you. Eddie didn’t bother with a condom, didn’t press a little peck to your lips and he wasn’t so quick to pull out either. When you squirmed a little he shifted so he was pushed up deeper into you, pulling a gasp from you which made him smirk against your skin.

Eventually he leaned up to bite your shoulder and then he slid out of you. You were still a little out of it, purring out a whiny hum as you nuzzled your quilt. Your legs were still spread and slightly bent up while you laid there on your stomach, and as he adjusted his softening dick back into his boxers he saw his cum slowly started to seep out of you and onto your comforter. Ever the gentleman, once his pants were zipped back up and his belt was buckled he landed his palm on your ass cheek and turned you over as you huffed over the action.

“See you Monday.”

“But we… we have to…” You fought to find your words through the haze. Study. You had to study.

“Bye, doll face!” He called out as he made his way downstairs.

You pouted a little, wanting to beg him to come back and stay with you. Maybe even go another round, but you were so spent that you just laid there.

When you got your energy back enough to force you to get up, you went to pee and clean yourself up before heading downstairs. Unsure of what to do with yourself, you made your way over to your backpack and you spotted the writing on the time sheet. A smile tugged at your lips. Instead of the date he wrote his phone number, and for the synopsis of today’s tutoring session he wrote “sex ed” with a winky face, and then signed where he was supposed to.

God, you were so fucked. And you were going to need a new time sheet.

[usedtobecooler]

Stocking Stuffer prompt: phonesex with Eddie and the not so innocent reader?

smutty stocking stuffers day five — eddie munson x reader

Pairing | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), phone sex, masturbation, dirty talk

Word Count | 2k

A/N | just when i think i’ve almost exhausted all sexual scenarios involving eddie somebody will suggest something i’ve never done 🫣🤍

It’s pitch dark in your bedroom. You know that much as you groggily rouse from your deep sleep to the shrill ring of the telephone by your bedside, unaware of how long you’ve actually been asleep for. It’d been a long day, you’d gotten home and just passed out the moment your head hit the pillow, blocking out the world in favor of a peaceful nap.

You pick up the receiver, holding it to your ear, “Hello?” You whisper, voice gravelly and throat dry, and you so desperately wish you’d thought of taking a cup of water from the kitchen before descending the stairs earlier.

“Hey, sweet thing,” Eddie Munson’s cool voice echoes down the phone, and you find yourself struggling with not rolling your eyes, because of course it’s him calling at this hour, “I can’t imagine O’Donnell would be happy to find out her best student didn’t show up for tutoring her worst student tonight.”

“Shit,” You mutter, rubbing at your sleep crusted eyes and groaning, “Sorry, Eddie. I fell asleep, forgot we were meant to study tonight. I can do tomorrow instead?”

“No can do, sweetheart, got Hellfire tomorrow night,” Eddie shuffles around on the other end of the phone, and you wonder what the fuck he could be doing, “What am I meant to do now, hmm? It’ll be your fault if I fail this class again, babe.”

“If you were that concerned you’d bail on your silly little club to study tomorrow,” You hum in disapprovement, flicking the switch on your bedside lamp and flopping down onto your back, hand splayed out on your belly – comfortable, “What time is it? I can maybe come now?”

“It’s one in the morning, I don’t think mommy and daddy would like their little princess sneaking out at this hour to meet up with a delinquent,” Eddie’s chuckle is deep, and you find your stomach doing flips because of it, “They might think you’re up to no good, we can’t have that, can we?”

You wriggle around a little, cheeks flushing hot, “Maybe I want them to think that,” You speak honestly, a breathy little sigh escaping you, “‘Good girl’ like me corrupted by the town freak? People would eat that shit up.”

“Maybe she’s not as good as everybody thought,” Eddie muses, and you can tell he’s grinning by his tone, “Have a feeling you’d get a sick thrill out of that, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, maybe,” You agree, hand gliding down your belly to dip into the waistband of your pajama shorts, unable to contain yourself, your pussy fluttering just at listening to him speak, “Hey, Eddie? I might have a way I can make it up to you.”

“Really, do tell,” Eddie’s humoring you now, he’s already right where you are, bare cock slapped up against his belly. He’s never been so fucking glad to sleep naked in his life.

“Yeah,” Your breath hitches as you dip your hand into your pretty underwear, fingers gliding through your folds to find them already soaked, you shudder at the feeling, “What’re you wearing?”

Eddie barks out a laugh, the unexpectedness of your bold question catching him completely by surprise, “Nothing,” He answers honestly, cock kicking up against his belly, leaving a smear of precum behind, “What about you? Probably a virginal white nightgown, knowing you.”

“Shorts and panties, some ratty old shirt – they’re black, though. Good girls don't always have to be virgins,” You remind him, and you catch the strained noise that comes from his throat on the other end, vibrating straight to your cunt. You swipe your fingers over your clit, sating the hunger only momentarily, “Wanna touch yourself?”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” Eddie feigns idiocy, even as he leans over to rummage in his bedside drawer for his bottle of lube. He uncaps it quickly, squirting a heavy amount onto the thick underside of his cock. You make a shocked noise on the other end, “I like it wet.”

“Lucky for you, my pussy is always wet,” You deal the first gut wrenching blow, and Eddie whimpers in response. You hear his fist wrapping around his cock, sliding up and down to get him nice and soaked with the lube, “Go on then, tell me what you wanna do.”

“Finger yourself for me, sweetheart,” Eddie’s voice is gruff on the other end, clearly overcome with the pleasure of his own fist on his hard cock. It does things to you, makes your pussy flutter.

You don’t know why you do it with zero issue, slipping your middle and ring fingers deftly over your hole, catching and dragging on the entrance so you can get them nice and slick, “Fuck,” You sigh quietly, sinking them both into your cunt in one swift motion, “My fingers are too short, I can’t reach that well. Bet your thick fingers would feel so good.”

Eddie chokes on his own spit, face flushing hot, “You’ve noticed my fingers before? Dirty girl, maybe you’re not so innocent after all.” His breathing hitches as he thumbs over the head of his cock, hand working himself and wrist twisting at the top few inches.

"Hard to ignore them, Eddie," You moan, tilting your head to the side so that you can rest the phone between your ear and your shoulder, dipping your other hand into your panties so you can thumb at your clit, a raspy little contented sigh escaping you, "Those fucking rings bring all the attention to them."

"Bet you'd love it if I fingered you with them on," Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying hard to rid himself of the image in his head otherwise this'll all be over too quick, "Wanna see you come all over them. I'd make you lick them clean, but you'd like that, huh?"

You gasp quietly at his words, voice going straight to your core, "I would, Eddie." You admit, thumb swiping over your sensitive nub in time with your fingers fucking in and out of you. You're so wet that the schlicking noises boom in the otherwise quiet room, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on even more, "Then I'd sink down on that big, fat cock. It's big, isn't it? I know it is. Can see the outline of it in your jeans."

"You're sick, baby," Eddie loses composure but only for a moment, slicking up and down his cock almost languidly, not quite tight enough to send him reeling but just enough to feel nice, so that he doesn't fuck himself over and come too quickly, "That pretty little mouth needs shutting up."

"Maybe you should do it for me, then," You're bouncing off of each other in an odd fight, and you're unable to tell if you're both equally as submissive or equally dominant, "Stuff those fingers in my mouth and choke me. You freaks are all into that shit."

Eddie can't help the groan that escapes him at that, almost admitting defeat, squeezing his cock a little tighter, hips betraying him and fucking up into his fist, the name calling always did it for him, "That makes you a freak too, no? Wanting me to choke you with your cunt stuffed full."

"Maybe it does," You shrug, fingers slipping in and out of your wet pussy like it's nothing, and you grow frustrated, "Don't feel full enough, Eddie. Wish you were here, your dick would slide into my soaked pussy so easy. You'd love it, I promise. I'd let you be so rough, wanna feel you in my throat you're that deep."

“You’d like that, babygirl? Like my big cock rearranging your guts?” Eddie gasps, hand flying up and down his cock with a renewed fervor, the wet noises of his lube covered hand ringing through your ears down the phone, and you’re gasping out loud, crooking your fingers to seek out that spongy spot.

“Mmph,” You garble in return, and Eddie’s deep chuckle has you clenching around your own fingers, thumb slipping over the soaked nub of your clit, sending you reeling, body like a livewire. Eddie always had such a mouth on him even in public, you might’ve known he’d put it to good use in the bedroom.

“You’re such a good slut for me, aren’t you? You’ll let me take that tight pussy whenever I want, yeah?” Eddie’s demeanor doesn’t falter, as he focuses his attention on the mushroom tip of his cock, fist twisting around it until his hips are bucking up.

“Anytime, Eddie. I’m your dirty slut,” You cry, the slick sounds of Eddie’s hands on himself making your skin burn up, doing things to you that you never expected. He’s insatiable, knows what you want before you even know yourself, knows just what to say and how to say it to get you going.

“Oh my fucking god, y’r killing me, sweetheart,” Eddie groans, watching as the head of his cock slides through his fist, stomach coiling and muscles tensing, “Wish it was your cunt I was fucking right now, need it, baby.”

You whine in response, the slick from your pussy drenching your inner wrist as your fingers sink in and out, making a mess of yourself and the sheets, “Gonna fuck me in the van before school tomorrow, Eddie? You promise? Make a mess of my needy pussy?”

“Shit, you want that?” Eddie’s stuttering over himself now, gasping and clamping his hand down at the base of his cock to stop himself from coming on the spot, “Wanna go to class full of my jizz? Leaking down your thighs in that pretty little skirt?”

You nod. It’s redundant because he can’t see you but you don’t care, “I’m gonna come, Eddie. Keep talking to me like that please,” You plead, thumb relentless on your own clit as your body starts to wind up in a tell tale sign of an impending orgasm, fingers crooking and just barely reaching your g-spot, you ache for Eddie’s skilled fingers inside of you, finding all the spots you struggle with.

“Right there with you, sweetheart,” Eddie moans, throwing his head back and baring his throat, hand going straight back to working his cock, fist tightening, chasing his own high, “Can’t wait for you to ride my cock, like the good fucking girl you are. Tell me you wanna take it,”

“Wanna take it, Eddie,” You cry, walls clenching sporadically on your own fingers, tummy coiling up tight, “Wanna feel you in my guts, fuck, fuck,”

“That’s it, sweet thing. Come thinking of my fat dick in your tight pussy, pounding it ‘til you can’t take it anymore,” Eddie’s hips fuck up into his own fist, precum weeping from the slit of his cock, “Baby, you’re gonna make me come. Come with me, yeah?”

“Ed– Eddie!” You squeal, tummy unraveling as you come, unable to handle Eddie’s words any longer, clamping your thighs together uncontrollably as you gush all over your fingers, making a mess of yourself – the receiver drops from between your ear and shoulder, but you still make out Eddie’s gruff moan of your name as he spills into his own hand.

You lie there momentarily, catching your breath as you slide your soaked hands from your soiled shorts, grimacing as the cold, wet material snaps back onto your puffy cunt. You pick up the receiver, “Still there?” You ask quietly, trying hard to contain your smirk.

“Pick you up at seven tomorrow for school?” Eddie pants down the phone, trying hard to ignore how good you sound after coming for him, in fears his cock will kick up again too quickly. He needs to ask before you hang up and it becomes a forgotten thing that’ll never happen.

You grin, rolling your eyes, but your belly does flips thinking of Eddie’s big hands all over you, thinking of getting to see his cock for the first time, “Okay... bring condoms.”

“So long as you bring your pretty ass in that tight little miniskirt.”

[angie-likes-to-art]

Fic Recs (Stranger Things Edition IV)

My semester is over and I can finally read fanfics again!! and maybe write??? All fics are fem!reader

Marvel One Two Three Harry Potter One Two Three Stranger Things One Two Three Specific Characters Tangerine Masterlist

Like a Random Tuesday in December by @bimrwolf (18+ Only)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader Summary: “Reader had always had a crush on Steve, but he is not interested. Yet, when he starts to get closer to her, he realizes he made a mistake because it might be too late.”

Whip it! by @schoopsahoy

Pairing: Steve Harrington x roller-rink!Reader Summary: “steve gets forced into taking the kids to the new roller rink, but he doesn’t mind so much once he meets you. basically just steve being a massive simp for reader.”

Dazed and Confused by @caxde

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “you work on Hawkin's music shop, and Eddie is a regular costumer. Your friends (Steve and Robin mostly) help you to gain confidence and flirt with him.”

Start Me Up by @jobean12-blog (18+ Only)

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “Your car needs a major tune up but when you meet your mechanic, all you want is for him to tune you up.”

Dreaming of You by @boomhauer (18+ Only)

Pairing: Virgin!Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “Plagued by graphic dreams about the Munson boy, you decided to see if he can make them come true.”

Sketchbook by @galaxy-siren

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Artist!Reader Request: Could I please request an Eddie x artist!reader story. Maybe he sits next to her in a couple of classes and he sees her drawing in her sketchbook and he’s just like “holy shit that really good” and he asks if he can look at some of her other drawings. She lets him forgetting that she has a couple of sketches of him.

Second Chance by @astermath

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader Summary: “steve decides to ask out the girl who he keeps seeing around hawkins with her nose in a book. he’s a little surprised when he gets brutally rejected, only to find out his “king steve” era is haunting him more than he expected. he attempts to make it up to you and show you he’s changed, even if it takes him a couple of tries.”

Private Viewing by @lokis-army-77 (18+ Only)

Pairing: Camboy!Eddie Munson x Reader Summary:  “What happens when your favorite camboy is in your class? You should stop watching his content... or should you? What happens when you are eventually paired together for a project? Everything will be just fine, won't it?”

Next Caller by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple (18+ Only)

Pairing: College!Eddie Munson x Shy!Reader Summary:  “Eddie hosts a late night radio show for his college campus, where he discusses various different topics. He's mostly known for his DnD and sex talk segments. You've been a long-time listener who works up the courage to finally call in for some help.”

Deal with the Devil (Series, Ongoing) by @hard-candy-writing (18+ Only)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Cheerleader!Reader Summary: “you want to piss off your parents. eddie wants to pass his classes. so you make a deal with each other: he'll date you, you'll tutor him, and you'll both end the year happy. the catch? no falling in love. slow burn romance, enemies to friends to lovers, fake dating, don't fall in love. fic takes place in 1984-85.”

[roanniom]

Live footage of Eddie in the sensitivity fics

A Study in Touch

Virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, suggestive flirting and touching, masturbation

You’re tutoring him late one night at his trailer, one of his last ditch efforts to finally graduate. Wayne is gone for his overnight shift so the two of you are alone.

“Can we pleeease do something else? I’m bored and if I look at another flash card I’m gonna die,” Eddie says dramatically, pushing the stack of cards away and laying himself performatively across your lap on the bed, making you laugh.

You two have been casual friends for years, crossing paths in drama club and classes and the like. When you graduated and he stayed behind for another senior year, Eddie would meet you from time to time at the diner where you worked after days full of taking classes at the community college.

With Eddie splayed over you, chest on your lap, face planted on the mattress next to you, you chuckle fondly down at your friend.

“Well do you have any suggestions for an alternate activity?” you ask.

“Anything where I don’t have to use my brain,” he groans.

“That shouldn’t be too difficult, you never use your brain,” you tease. He goes to retort, but at that exact moment you drop your hand on his back and smooth it up the length of his spine, making all of Eddie’s muscles suddenly seize up.

You freeze as a result of his sudden tension and hold your breath. Not sure what you did wrong.

“It’s…it’s okay that I don’t use my brain.” Eddie says, voice slightly shaky as he tries to pretend like he hadn’t just reacted oddly to your touch. “If I was smart, I wouldnt need to pay you for tutoring, so I wouldn’t question it if I were you.”

You laugh at that before tentatively placing your hand back on the plane of his back. Eddie doesn’t tense up this time. In fact, he seems to melt down against you. Perhaps relieved you had given him a second chance with your touch.

“You don’t pay me, Munson,” you contradict.

“Should I?” Eddie asks, turning on his side where he’s laying in your lap so that he can look at you. He’s got that cocky grin on his face that you love when the two of you banter. You’d never know that he had gone rigid under your hand just a moment ago if you hadn’t felt it yourself.

“Don’t make me sound like a hooker,” you say, sliding your hand from his back over his shoulder to slap at his chest. He chuckles but when you go to pull your hand away after the slap, he grabs it and presses it back against his chest.

Your eyes dart up to his face to register the slight panic present in his eyes. His palm is a little sweaty over the back of your hand and you can feel the sped up stutter of his heartbeat, thumping in his chest (a chest much more solid than you’d anticipated).

“You’re too pretty to be a hooker,” he says quietly. He’s back to seeming more nervous than you’ve ever seen him before, despite the usual layer of cockiness, and you wait with bated breath as he continues, though your concern is assuaged when he gives you a lopsided grin. “At the very least you’re an expensive escort.”

“An escort?” you laugh incredulously. Eddie nods.

“Yeah. Like a real high class one.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Top shelf, baby.”

The endearment doesn’t really faze you as Eddie has always confidently called you every sweet name under the sun. The casual flirting feels comfortable and normal and - if you’re being honest with yourself - it seems like it’s part of something that’s been swelling between the two of you for a long time now.

The only thing that clues you in that Eddie is more than a little anxious is the fact that you can feel the thundering beat of his heart under your hand. 

“And here I thought I was someone you respected,” you muse, using your hand on his chest to push him on his back on the bed. His eyes widen significantly, widening still when you climb up to straddle his lap.

“I-I-I do…r-respect you,” he stutters, not even capable to pretending that he’s not startled by the development. His hands twitch at his sides. He’s clearly unsure if he should rest them on your thighs or not so you grab them and place them squarely on your hips.

“Do you? Because I’m pretty sure I walked in here to find a well ‘loved’ magazine open to a particularly sticky page with a naked woman on it who looked just like me.” You know you’re acting forward and impatient, but Eddie’s just so cute beneath you and you’re done waiting for him to make a move, especially when you’re so sure he wants you too.

“You saw…oh god. You saw that?” The realization dawning behind his eyes at your eyes words make him seem miserable all of a sudden. True regret and embarrassment replace the flustered flush that had colored his neck and cheeks just moments ago. This wasn’t the reaction you’d been hoping for. You’d assumed he’d proudly admit it or accuse you of something equally salacious. Anything other than the way he’s shrinking against the mattress in remorse.

You lean forward and cup the side of his face.

“No shh stop, I was only teasing,” you do your best to comfort. He seems more startled by your hand on his face than by the revelation, so that’s something at least.

“So…so you didn’t see…” he blinks up at you. You shake your head with a grin.

“Well no, I did see it. But I’m flattered,” you say with a chuckle. Eddie is beet red beneath you now but at least he settles enough to put his hands back on your thighs. You push further. “I’m right, right? You like her cuz she looks like me?”

Eddie swallows thickly, struggling to look at you till he forces his eyes to meet yours.

“I don’t have any pictures of you, so…” He tries his best to sound teasing. He really does. The corner of his mouth quirks up and everything. But you can see him cringe a little at his own words, probably apprehensive about your response. You bite your lip and gaze back down at him inscrutably before looking around the room.

“Aha,” you mutter to yourself, reaching over to grab the old beat up used Polaroid camera he had slung over the corner of his headboard by a worn leather strap. Eddie’s eyes go wide as you shift in his lap, lifting the camera up at a high angle and smiling, your free hand on his pelvis, dangerously close to…

Oh fuck.

He’s hard and you’re on his lap.

He’s hard and you’re on his lap and you just took a picture.

You pay him and his current internal freak out no mind while you pull the waiting picture from the slot, humming as you wait for it to develop and dry. When it’s done, you take a glance and grin wide before swinging yourself off his lap. Eddie is left grasping at air, disappointed in the loss of your warmth.

“Where…where are you going?” he asks as you gather your things, horrified he’s finally scared you off. With your bag slung over your shoulder you smile at him.

“It’s late, I think we’re done for the night. We can pick up tomorrow,” you say brightly. Before Eddie can feel too dejected, however, you drop the Polaroid picture face down on his thigh, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “And besides, I think you’ve got something to take care of now that you’ve got a picture of me.”

Your hand cups his hardened cock through his jeans then and Eddie all but yelps. You pull back from his ear, give him a final cheeky grin, and waltz out.

Eddie holds his breath till he hears the slam of the trailer door and the sound of your tires crunching gravel as you drive away. Then he looks at the Polaroid.

Shrouded in the customary background darkness of an instant flash photo, he’s greeted with the image of you, straddling him, his unmistakable erection bulging his jeans just at the apex of your thighs. And speak of your thighs, his big hands are on them, fingers depressing into the soft flesh in what reads on camera as much possessive and less desperate. His hellfire shirt is rucked up a bit to expose a little of his happy trail leading to his belt, but otherwise that’s all that was visible of Eddie. Of course, he was more interested in you.

The high angle gave the most perfect vantage point down the neckline of your shirt, making your tits look fantastic he literally has to drag a finger over his puffy over bitten bottom lip to catch any spit collecting. Your hand supports you by laying flat on his pelvis, just centimeters from his hard cock. Eddie drops his hand to that very same place now, almost certain he can still feel the phantom pressure of your own palm. The top frame of the image cuts off just below your eyes, something that saddens him but which affords you a little bit of anonymity on this compromising image. But his eyes zero in on your mouth. The way you’ve stuck out your tongue, biting down on it cheekily in a way that still doesn’t hide the smile threatening at the corners of your lips.

You were right. He does have something to take care of now.

That night he cums three separate times, each time fixating on a different part of the picture. He’s so spent and dehydrated afterwards that he just lays in his bed, sweaty and dazed in the early hours on the morning, staring at the picture. Oversensitive and over jerked cock finally dormant (aside from the occasional twitch), leaving him room to simmer in the warmth that spreads from thoughts of your voice, your laugh. Everything about you.

At dawn he finally throws himself out of bed and into the shower, determined not to smell or look like he’d spent the night masturbating his brains out when he finally sees you later.

But of course, under the stream of warm water thoughts of what you’d look like, body wet and eyes begging, came to him unbidden.

Yeah. He ended up needing a lot more time to make him presentable than he’d thought.

~*~

[brewsterispunkk]

THE TUTOR

part 2/4

pairing: eddie munson x afab!reader (period is mentioned), eddie munson x fem!reader

WC: 4.1k

summary: reader and eddie begin their little deal.

warnings: idiots. just idiots. also brief SA-- nothing explicit, just groping--NOT main pairing, recreational drug use

A/N: here is part 2! hope u love it! pls pls pls leave feedback ;) read it and weep.

Senior Year Bucket List

1) Get drunk

2) Skip Class

3) Do a drug

4) Sneak out

5) Skinny dip

6) Get a boyfriend, lose my virginity

You sighed and shook your head as soon as you’d written that last part, hands only half-shaking.

This was fine, you thought to yourself. 

It wasn’t weird, you kept telling yourself. It wasn’t. Eddie himself had asked you to come to school Monday with an itemized list of what exactly you’d felt like you’d missed out on. “A bucket list of sorts” he called it. 

You had to keep yourself from adding “feeling safe” to the list of things you’d felt you’d missed out on.

That was difficult for you sometimes. 

For the most part, you’d been able to compartmentalize what had happened to you last summer: the deaths, the torture, the “mall fire.” The rest of Hawkins knew that you’d survived it, along with Steve, Robin, and the kids. You’d gotten away with minor bruising to the face and neck after a Russian tried to choke you in an effort to get you to talk. It wasn’t ideal, but it could have been worse. Steve had been the one to take the brunt of the torture. You and Robin had screamed yourselves hoarse while they beat him in the other room. 

You sometimes still had nightmares about the sick sound of their fists hitting his face.

When you’d emerged as one of the survivors of what they were calling the “Starcourt Mall Fire,” your mother had been relieved. After your father had split when you were ten, you were all she had. Still, she hadn’t been prepared for the effects of what had happened to you. To be fair, neither were you. Neither were any of you. 

You’d always been shy, ever since you were a kid, but now instead of having a generally quiet disposition, you were skittish. The slightest noise made you jump, and you couldn’t stand to listen to Reagan talk about the U.S.S.R. on the news without having a panic attack. The nightmares had subsided after about two months, though they returned whenever you were stressed. 

You found you always looked over your shoulder, always looking out for some unknown thing that might be stalking you. When people talk about saving the world, they never talk about the ugly parts. About the broken fingernails and the insomnia and the muffling of sobs behind your hand as you break down in the girls’ bathroom. 

It’s a lonely thing, being a hero. An unfair thing. You felt like that night at Starcourt, when Hopper and Billy Hargrove hadn’t emerged from the fire, your adolescence had been stolen from you. That it had disappeared with the smoke and ash as it engulfed Scoops Ahoy and the rest of the shopping center. You hope that if Eddie actually does follow through with this little deal of yours, you’ll be able to experience at least a little of it. 

- - - -

“So,” Eddie drummed his hands on the top of your desk as he slid into the seat in front of you. “What do you have for me, miss tutor girl?”

He was awfully chipper for 7:00 in the morning. You blinked at him and skated your gaze across the room. 

It was close enough to first period for the room to be reasonably filled with students, most too sluggish to notice. But a few girls towards the front looked over their shoulders at him, eyes narrowed, before zooming in on you, where they widened curiously. 

“What, scared for your reputation?” Eddie was only half-joking, his eyes a little guarded. They narrowed at you. 

You shook your head almost comically. 

“No,” you burst. “No, not at all. Just had a weird night.”

“Hm,” he looked at you skeptically. You rolled your eyes.

“We’ve already talked about this, Eddie. I don’t have a reputation for you to ruin.”

He snorted at that.

“Alright then,” he leaned forward, his chin on his fists. “What’s got you so skittish, then? Another crazy party like Friday?”

“No,” you sighed, leaning down to retrieve your list from your backpack. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

 “Okay.” He looked like he didn’t believe you. You didn’t blame him; you couldn’t have been that convincing. You couldn’t bring yourself to care.  

“Did you bring it?” He asked. 

You nodded, slamming the sheet of notebook paper onto the desk and slid it over to him. 

“Here you go,” you pulled at your sleeve nervously. “Just don’t laugh, okay?”

Eddie looked at you and feigned shock. 

“Me? Laugh at you? I’m offended.”

“Eddie, I’m serious,” you felt your cheeks flush and your stomach plummet. “I’m just–It’s embarrassing. I’m being very… vulnerable and if you’re gonna laugh, we can just forget about it—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” his warm hands covered yours where they were sitting on the desk. He squeezed your palms reassuringly.  “I was kidding. I won’t laugh. Scout’s honor.”

You looked into his eyes for a moment to see if he was serious. All you saw was sincerity. You let out a deep breath. 

“You were a boy scout?” 

His lips spread in a wry smile as he turned to the paper. 

“Nope,” he unfolded the list. “It’s the thought that counts, though, right?”

You shrugged. 

“I guess?”

“Okay, what do we have here?” 

You sat in awkward silence as Eddie scanned the page, dark eyes focused. Hie brows were furrowed and his lips pouted in concentration. 

“‘Get drunk,’ we can certainly make that happen. ‘Skip a class,’ you won’t need to ask me twice.” He stopped for a moment and huffed a laugh. 

You felt your cheeks heat up. 

“What–”

“‘Do a drug.’” He said with a secret smile–like he knew something you didn’t. 

“Yeah,” you drew out. “I figured you’d know a guy.”

“Oh,” Eddie laughed. “I know a guy.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he smiled at you, before turning his eyes back to the page. “Ohh.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkled as he turned them back to you. He looked like a sprite, you thought. With his wild hair and mischievous smile. He was gorgeous. 

“‘Get a boyfriend,’” he set the list down on the table. “Am I going to be playing match-maker, teacher’s pet?”

You rolled your eyes. He was teasing you. 

“If that’s what it takes,” you quipped, your nervousness having melted away. “And I am not a teacher’s pet.”

“Whatever you say,” he raised an eyebrow at you. 

As you opened your mouth to respond, the clearing of a throat interrupted you. 

You looked up to see Cameron Reyes leering over Eddie. 

“Hey. You’re in my seat,” he sneered. “Beat it.”

Eddie sighed, before slinking out of the seat slowly, taking his time. 

“My apologies,” he smiled at Cameron, before dropping into his own seat, next to you. 

You glared at the back of Cameron’s head. 

Why did he have to be such an asshole?

Cameron was on the swim team and you’d had classes with him since Kindergarten. He hadn’t always been a dick; In fourth grade when you’d skinned your knee, he’d helped you up and walked you to the nurse’s office. It wasn’t until high school, when he’d begun running with guys like Tommy Hagan, that he’d changed. Now, you couldn’t stand him. 

That was the way of things, though, in Hawkins. There were the bullies and the bullied—rarely anything in between.

- - - -

As you walked down the halls, you felt their eyes on your legs and you regretted letting Robin convince you to wear this skirt. 

The denim felt heavy on your hips. You wiped your clammy hands on the blue material, wishing that you didn’t have to walk practically across school to get to pre-calc. 

“Looking good,” someone whistled from behind you. You felt dread seep down your spine. 

Please no, not here. 

This wasn’t the first time you’d been catcalled. 

The first time was when you and Robin were thirteen and walking to the general store down the road from your houses. A few men in a pick-up truck had rolled their windows down and told you in great detail all they’d liked to do to you. You and Robin hid inside the general store until the clerk called your mom to pick you up. You hadn’t even gotten your first period yet. 

However, this was the first time you’d been catcalled at school. It still felt just as scary as the first time. 

“Where have you been hiding those legs, teacher’s pet?” 

You whipped around at the nickname, bristling at it. You hated when people called you that, unless that person was Eddie. 

You were faced with a basketball player; one of the guys who hung out with Jason Carver and sometimes Lucas. Thomas Reed. Your skin crawled at the way he and the two boys behind him looked at you. 

“Fuck off,” you spat at him before turning on your heel and walking faster to your destination. 

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that!” He called after you, but you could barely hear him over the blood rushing in your ears. 

It only calmed when you’d reached your classroom.

- - - -

“Are you even listening to me?” You smacked his hand where it was tapping on the wood of the library table. Outside, a heavy autumn rain pummeled the sidewalk, the trees swaying with it. 

“Yes,” Eddie rolled his eyes. 

“What did I just say?”

“That…Holden is a whiny little bitch.”

You sighed, bringing a hand to your forehead. 

“No.” You ground out. “And if you write that in your essay, Ms. Taylor is going to fail you and me, so please, can you take this seriously?”

He sighed and had the nerve to look a little guilty. It made your heart clench a bit. 

In the few sessions you’d tutoring Eddie, your crush had done anything but lessened. In fact, it had grown tenfold. It was one thing to admire him from across the room, it was another completely to spend time with him and actually be able to talk to him. 

You found that in addition to being cute and pensive, he was kind and not at all the scary loner that everyone painted him to be. If he hadn’t cemented his reputation by being an avid player of D&D, he would’ve been popular, you thought. 

And all this goes to day: you couldn’t stay mad at him, even when you wanted to.

“Okay,” he said, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. You briefly reminded yourself to offer to cut them for him later—he’d been complaining about them getting in his face all session. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“What?” Your attention snapped back to him. Eddie looked at you like you’d grown another head. 

“Uhh, I asked what you were saying?”

“Oh! Oh yeah,” you shook your head. “I zoned out.”

“I gathered that.” Eddie snorted, leaning forward. “Uh, off-topic, but I was wondering, when do you wanna get started on that bucket list?”

“Oh. Whenever.”

“I was thinking we could start this week.”

“So soon?” You practically squeaked. As excited you were about these new experiences, you were nervous. Especially because the person you’d be experiencing them with was Eddie. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself. 

“No time like the present,” Eddie’s voice was chipper. “So, what did you wanna start with?”

“I thought we’d start small and work up to something bigger?” You asked.

“That sounds good,” Eddie nodded. “How does skipping class work for this week?”

“Ugh, not well actually.” You sighed, sour. “We have that exam this week in Taylor’s and then for Chem I have—”

“Relax, we don’t have to start with that one. Hmm, what else…”

“We could always—”

You cut yourself off, thinking better of it, but Eddie caught you. 

“Nevermind.”

“No, what is it?”

You looked at him skeptically. 

“If you wanna do something, you gotta tell me. It’s your bucket list, tutor-girl, not mine.”

“What if we…did a drug?”

God, you sounded like such a teacher’s pet saying it.

“Okay, teacher’s pet.” Eddie’s face was gleeful, excited. “You’re full of surprises. We can do that, definitely.”

“Okay,” you let out a breath. 

“Any reason why you jumped to that one?”

“I just– I’m so stressed.” Thomas Reed’s lustful gaze flashed in your mind and you shook it off. 

“You okay?” Eddie grabbed your hand on the table. You swallowed. 

“Yeah,” you said lamely, mouth dry. “Just–a lot going on. School.”

“School,” Eddie repeated like he didn’t believe you. His eyes held yours for a moment before he nodded. “Okay teacher’s pet. Drugs it is. Any preference?”

“Nothing too crazy. Just something to take the edge off?”

“I can do that,” he smiled. “This is gonna be fun.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just think you’ll be funny high.”

“We’ll see,” you narrowed your eyes at him. He just smiled at you for a moment. Your eyes held his and you had the sudden urge to reach over the table and kiss him. You coughed, turning back to your notes in front of you. 

“Anyway, what do you think Salinger’s trying to say?”

“Other than the fact that Holden is annoying?”

“Eddie, I’m serious—”

“I am too!” Eddie insisted. “All this shit about ‘phonies,’ when he’s just like them–”

“You know, I thought you’d relate to Holden.” You smirked at him.

“What?”

“Well, he’s an outcast—all teenage angst and—”

“I’m twenty, thank you.” He snapped at you, causing you to stutter. 

“Oh, no I didn’t mean outcast like—”

“No, it’s okay,” Eddie chuckled, waving you off. “It’s true. And I like it that way.”

You eyed him skeptically. 

“Really, I do.” He folded his arms over his chest. “There are too many assholes in this school. If I wanted to fit in, I’d have to act like them. At least a little bit. Besides, I’ve got people. Not much, but I’ve got’em.”

You hummed. 

“I’ve never thought of that.”

“What, Holden being a bitch, because—”

You smacked his arm, laughing. 

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Eddie giggled. He giggled. Your heart leapt. “What, though? What did I say that was so profound?”

He was being sarcastic, you could tell, but you didn’t care. 

“The whole—having to sacrifice part of yourself to fit in. It’s true. I’d never thought of it like that.”

He hummed, eyes holding yours a moment, before his grin broke the moment. 

“Maybe I should be the one tutoring, huh?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

“Turn to page 225.”

- - - -

Thomas found you again the next day, this time before school as you were at your locker. 

“Hey there,” he smiled, sliding up next to you, effectively boxing you in between him and the locker. You jumped, moving as close to the locker as you could. “How are you today?”

“Leave me alone,” you ground out, trying to slip past him, but his hand in a hard grip on your arm stopped you. 

“Aw, but we could have so much fun, teacher’s pet.”

“Let me go—”

“Where’s your little skirt?” he asked, grip tightening on your arm as you scrambled to get away. 

You silently cursed whoever in the administration office had placed your locker on one of the most abandoned hallways in the school. 

“Your legs looked so good—”

His palm came to squeeze the meat of your ass and your stomach churned. Without thinking, you spat in his face, palm coming to connect with his cheek. 

“You cunt—”

“The hell is going on here?” 

Eddie walked briskly up to you as you stepped back from Thomas. He moved to stand between you two, face hard. It was the mask he put on every day in front of the rest of the school, the ones who thought he was mean and scary. Only now, you weren’t sure how much of it was a mask. 

“Nothing, man.” Thomas waved him off, wiping his face. He glared at you in a way that made your feet stick to the spot. 

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I said it's nothing.”

“And I said—”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled. 

“Hey wait—”

Eddie moved to grab Thomas as he walked away from the two of you. 

“I said it’s fine,” you said louder this time, and reached out to grab Eddie’s shoulder and pull him back toward you. 

“Bullshit!” He spun and turned toward you, clearly pissed off. “What the hell was that?”

“I said it was fine, Eddie!” You burst at him, voice cracking. You took a deep breath. 

“Honey, are you—” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you interrupted Eddie’s suddenly soft voice. You wiped a stray but of moisture from under your eyelid. “Let’s just go to class.”

“But–”

“Eddie, drop it,” you all but snapped, before adding lamely, “please.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Lead the way. Taylor’s gonna be pissed if I’m late again.”

You could practically hear him simmering as he walked a half-step behind you to class, but you didn’t care to acknowledge it. You’d made it abundantly clear you didn’t want to talk about it. If he pushed you, you might just snap. 

As the two of you made your way down the halls, you felt eyes following you. They were all wondering: what was the quiet nerd doing with the freak? You didn’t care to acknowledge that either. 

Let them wonder, you thought. I’m done caring about their rumor mill.

- - - -

“Jesus, Eddie.” You gasped and looked around. 

There was no one in the janitor’s closet with you, but still: with that much weed on him, Eddie would be expelled and arrested. You had no idea how he’d gotten it in the two days since your conversation. 

“What?” He asked, out of breath. He’d pulled you in here between third and fourth period, scarring you half to death in the process. “I told you I’d get the stuff.”

“Yeah, but I didn't know you meant so much,” you scoffed. Now, looking down at the green, wooly buds you were going to smoke, you felt your stomach flood with anxiety. You weren’t so sure about it anymore. “Where did you even get it?”

“I know a guy.”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” you rolled your eyes frustratedly. “What did you drag me here for, anyway?”

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, looking genuinely confused at your hostile tone. 

“To…let you know I got the stuff.” He drawled, before narrowing his eyes at you. “You okay, sweetheart? You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

Your stomach was churning. Between the stuff with Thomas that morning and now this, it was too much. 

You pressed a hand to your abdomen as the faint smell of weed permeated from the open baggie between Eddie’s fingers.

God, he had pretty fingers, you thought somewhere in the back of your mind. It was something you'd revisit when you weren’t about to have a panic attack.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Eddie rushed toward you as you doubled over, hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath and calm the nausea. His hands found your shoulders, and another wave of the sharp smell of marijuana made you retreat further into your mind. 

All of a sudden, you weren’t there; you were back at Starcourt with Billy Hargrove’s hands around your neck, the smell of the weed he’d smoked earlier still on his clothes. 

Your breathing shallowed and you gasped, trying to breathe, but in vain. 

“Hey, hey, breathe for me,” you faintly heard Eddie over your own heartbeat. “You gotta breathe, honey. C’mon, breathe for me. Deep breaths, like this.”

He pressed your palm to his chest as he inhaled deeply.

You looked up at him, at his wide, panicked eyes and did as he said, slowly inhaling a shaky breath. 

“That’s it,” he took another deep breath, eyes not leaving yours. “Just like that. Okay. Another one, now.”

You took a deep breath, much easier this time, eyes never leaving his.

- - - -

“So…” Eddie began, eyes finally meeting yours. “You wanna tell me what the hell that was?”

You sighed, tilting your head back to lean against the wall where you were sitting. You looked up at the fluorescents in the janitor’s closet. 

“That was a panic attack, Eddie,” you said monotonously.

“Don’t be a smart ass. What happened?”

You sighed again. 

It had taken five minutes for Eddie to talk you down from your… episode. After, he’d let you catch your breath. You’d thought that you’d be able to just go about your day from there. You were stupid to think he’d let this go. 

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Jesus, sweetheart, I don't care about that. I just wanna know what the hell caused it. Did I–”

“No,” you said immediately. “You didn’t—”

“Did it have something to do with this morning?” Eddie’s voice was low, and as serious as you’d ever heard it. 

You remained quiet, eyes trained on the light above you. Eddie took that as confirmation. His eyes flashed dangerously as you finally looked at him. 

“I’ll kill him.”

Eddie moved to his feet with purpose, moving to open the closet door. 

“No!” you grabbed his ankle, scrambling. “No, Eddie. It’s not worth it.”

“Bullshit, it’s not worth it—”

“Please, let’s just get out of here. Let’s go smoke. We’ve practically missed all of fourth period anyway.”

“Honey, he can’t just–”

“I know, Eddie,” you stood up level with him. “But right now, I really wanna leave, and that’s more important than whatever revenge plot you have.”

He looked at the door obstinately for another moment before turning back to you. 

“Fine.” he said, not fully convinced. 

“Thank you,” you took a calming breath. “Good. Besides, it’ll be like killing two birds with one stone, right? Two items off the bucket list at once.”

- - - -

Eddie’s car was smoky; a hotbox is what he called it. 

As you took a long drag of the joint he passed to you, the deep, leafy aroma filled your lungs. As you breathed out, all worries or stress you had about school or Thomas or even the Upside Down diminished to an afterthought. 

So this is why people smoke, you thought to yourself, giggling a little bit. 

“What is it?” Eddie turned his head to you, unruly curls brushing your cheek. 

The two of you were sprawled out on the floor of his van, shoulder to shoulder and head to head, about twenty minutes into the session. You’d learned this so far: that Eddie smelled good, like cigarettes and cologne and something musky, and that his eyes got even more glassy when he smoked. All that to say: you wanted to kiss him. Bad. 

You passed him the joint, your fingers brushing his in the process.

“It’s just that I finally get why people do this so much,” you laughed. 

“It’s been twenty minutes,” Eddie laughed with you. 

“And I feel better already!”

Eddie went quiet, taking two puffs from the joint. You turned to look at him, eyes immediately darting to his lips. He was looking pensively at the corner of the van. 

“Not fair,” you grabbed the joint from him. “Don’t hog.”

“I get them too, you know.” He said all of a sudden, somber. 

You stopped, looking at him still. Eddie turned his head to face you, nose only an inch from yours. 

“Not so much anymore, but when I was younger. When I first came to live with Wayne.”

“Wayne?”

“My uncle,” he swallowed, turning his head away from yours. “I live with him. Have since I was twelve. My dad, he was… not a great guy.”

You were quiet for a moment, passing the joint back to him. 

“My dad left.” You said. “Sometimes I’m not even sure I remember what he looks like.”

Eddie grabbed your hand, squeezing. 

Instead of the flutter of anxious butterflies, you felt a calm wash over you at his hand in yours. 

“Do you, uh…” Eddie trailed off, taking a deep huff, “wanna talk about what I saw this morning?”

You sighed, not feeling anxious, but feeling tired. 

“You remember the skirt I wore the other day?”

Eddie swallowed visibly, eyes darting to your legs before your face again. 

“Yeah.”

“Robin helped me pick it out in June,” you fiddled with your sweater. “She convinced me to wear it the other day, finally, while the weather is still at least a little nice. Anyway, Thomas noticed my skirt. He hasn’t left me alone since. And today, he…”

Eddie took a long drag. 

“He grabbed me, grabbed my ass. Fucking pig.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m not even, like, scarred by that. You know how ridiculous that is? That I’m not even phased by it anymore?”

Eddie just shook his head, glaring at the ceiling. 

“Eddie?”

He wordlessly handed you the joint. 

“Toke up, sweetheart.”

You chuckled. 

“Jesus, what an asshole.” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking a long drag. 

“Someone should—”

“Someone should, but someone won’t.” You looked at him. “They never do.”

“Hmm,” Eddie hummed, biting his lip in concentration. 

“Wanna skip the rest of the day?”

“God, yes.”

Th next day, Thomas Reed had a busted lip and a black eye. 

[gravedigginbbydoll]

Hawkins University : The Munson Edition

AN: Hey, y'all. I've finally moved! So, I'm working on writing right now. I'm so sorry for the long wait; I've been juggling a lot. I hope you like this chapter; we'll get into more drama and romance in the next chapters! Pls remember that reblogs and comments are appreciated! Also feedback!

→ cliches: friends to lovers, heavy use of nicknames instead of Y/N, we're all just struggling college kids, Music Tutor! Eddie, Resident Assistant! Reader, good girl x bad boy, instant connections, 'I don't trust most people but I trust you', 'are we friends or more?', and 'I can't believe you're such a slut that you have a special dtf drawer...'

→ warnings: mature topics, insecurity, hurt and comfort, drinking and drug usage, strong language, bullying, mental health, discussion of suicide and self harm, mature thoughts, eventual smut, minors dni

→ pairing: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

<Previous Masterlist Next>

Chapter 8

Bug's POV

It had been two weeks since you and Eddie kissed. Though you both had talked about liking one another, neither of you breached the topic of your relationship. And to be honest, it hadn’t bothered you. You got to enjoy the typical activities with Eddie, plus the bonus of kissing or cuddling. You weren’t worried about labels or anything. Plus it meant you didn’t have to feel so guilty about not going on dates or dressing up. Only something more had developed…

You had begun to have a dilemma of jealousy and embarrassment. 

It began that fateful on the November night that was fading into December, finals approaching viciously. You had overheard from a few classmates that Eddie denied their advances, all of them bitter about the situation. You knew why, but couldn’t help but feel worried. You weren’t a virgin by any means, but you also weren’t nearly as experienced as Eddie. And maybe that sparked something in you. 

You were somehow both relieved and frustrated that Eddie hadn’t tried anything with you yet, curious as to how he would be with you. Some stories…made you sit at the edge of your seat, a gasp in your throat. 

He couldn’t help his reputation, really. 

You knew Eddie would make dirty jokes about enjoying choking with Gareth and even fake moans around Steve to make him disgusted. But he never did that with you. He was always sincere and kind. Tamed? In a way. But some tiny little piece of you, something depraved and lonely, wondered why. 

So you decided to test the waters. 

It started out small, of course. Something like a stupid ‘that’s what she said’ joke.

A few days later it snowballed to a joke revolving around your taste in jewelry and saying “Truthfully, I prefer my necklaces to be more...tight. Like a hand.” 

It was laughable, really. Embarrassing. 

But the straw that officially broke the camel's back?

A joke about Eddie's drawer. 

Eddie and you had been messing around, kissing sometimes and giggling, discussing past embarrassing moments. And that’s when you heard the story of how some guy ran out of Steve and Eddie’s shared apartment when he saw the ‘drawer’. You had rolled your eyes, laughing a bit and teasing Eddie gently. 

“I mean it is a bit slutty of you,” You giggled, curled into Eddie’s side. 

Eddie tickled your side gently, grinning softly, “Hey! We do not slut shame in this house. It’s rude,” He teased, nose scrunched up in the cutest way possible. Your heart skipped a beat. 

You smiled a devious grin and shrugged, standing up. “I wasn’t slut shaming…just…word gets around.” Your stomach was twisting and turning with nerves, your heart pumping. You were pushing it a bit, but wanted to test the waters. 

Eddie raised a brow at you, fighting a smile on his lips, eyes dark and twinkling with mischief. “Oh, does it, now? And what exactly…went around…?” 

You walked around, avoiding his gaze as you stared at the Warhammer minis on his shelf, a delicate finger careful to not touch them. “Oh…ya know…things like…how you’re really good at eating out. Or how you like ropes…and maybe…how you love power dynamics…how you…seem to really love getting people off.” With every phrase falling from your lips you felt more and more giddy and nervous, your heart thumping out of your chest. Your thighs squeezed together to rid the ache between your legs as you pretended to be more interested in his decor. You came to his band posters, some local, some big names. You stared at the art work and tried to avoid the intense feeling of Eddie’s gaze on you. 

“Oh…I see. And how much did you believe of it?,” His voice seemed low and almost like a whisper, but the guttural tones and bass of his vocals made a shiver run down your spine. You tried to hold your ground, walking towards his desk, playing with a fidget cube he kept on his desk for concentration. Your back was still to him. 

“Mmm…not much. I heard a lot of what seemed like exaggeration about how many times you made people…finish.” You breathed out, trying to ignore the trembling in your hands and the feeling of breathlessness consuming you. 

Eddie chuckled darkly and seemed to shuffle about, finally stepping closer to you and tracing delicate fingers up your side. “Do you want to find out if it’s true?” His breath was in your ear, making your skin feel hot and your stomach twist in knots. 

You shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant and looking off towards a Metallica poster, chewing on your lip. “I mean, if you want to prove yourself…fine. But there's no way you can make anyone cum that much, no matter how slutty you-”

You found yourself spun around quickly as a pair of strong and calloused hands intertwined into your hair and pulled you in at your waist, his mouth immediately upon yours as he shut you up with the most passionate and panty dropping kiss you had ever experienced. Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips encased yours, fireworks going off in your belly. He rubbed his hand at your side, slipping under your shirt to have his cool hand touch your warming skin. He continued to tug at your hair, eliciting little moans from you and making wetness pool in your underwear, your body alight with desire. 

You felt desperate and pathetic, but in the best way. So often you were the caring and overbearing friend, the one who was always the designated driver, the one who worked a thankless job and tried to push others along to succeed. But here, with Eddie, you often felt free to let loose. Free to think less about others and more about yourself. And it seemed that translated into the bedroom too. 

Eddie was leaving your mouth to kiss down your neck, nipping and biting softly, causing you to whimper and claw at his back. He steered you toward what felt like the bed, dropping you onto your back before looming over you. His eyes were dark and his lips pink and swollen from the kissing. His arms were braced on either side of your head as his hair made a curtain around you, your heart beating at the sight of his expression. It was like he was hungry and desperate. 

“You’re so gorgeous…I’m gonna make you see fucking stars,” He growled out, making your body shiver in delight. 

He lifted your shirt off your frame, throwing it to the side as he cupped your breasts, eyes looking at you for reassurance. You nodded, biting your lip. He grinned devilishly, coming in to leaving bruising kisses and bites at your neck, his nimble fingers pinching and playing with your nipples, the desire pooling between your thighs as you squirmed under him. 

“Such a pretty girl…so responsive…,” He groaned out, grinding his hardness into you for a minute while you moaned, before moving down and taking a nipple in his mouth, first giving it teasing licks before he latched on and began sucking and nipping at the bud, making you whine and grip the bedding underneath you, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. You felt like you were on cloud 9. Your thoughts consumed by the goofy metalheads mouth and tongue, pleasure ever growing. You practically lost it when one of his hands traveled south while the other continued playing with your nipple that wasn’t between his teeth, hovering above your mound. 

“Can I touch you, baby? Can I play with your clit?,” He growled out around your nipple, your back arching at his words as you felt your cunt throb. You were mindless. You were putty in his hands. 

“Yes, god please…yes…” 

At that his hands went under your panties, finger quickly finding your sensitive spot and circling it gently. You were squirming, back arching, as his lip popped off your breast obscenely and moved to the other, and his fingers moved to tug at your nipple and keep it hard. At this point you swore you were going to combust. Eddie just kept whispering praise and growling around you, calling you his ‘plaything’ and his ‘girl’. Your back arching as you felt the familiar build, your cunt clenching around nothing as you whimpered, eyes screwed shut. 

“Fu-fuck…’M gonna cum…gonna cum…please please please, Eds,” You clawed at his back, releasing a moan from him as he moved to kiss you, still rubbing at your clit, this time with a bit more ferocity. You felt the pleasure between your legs build and build as you moaned into his mouth, finally snapping as he lightly smacked your clit, growling into your mouth. You saw white, your eyes rolling back as your body shook, gasps and moans escaping your mouth. You laid there, boneless for a moment, eyes shut as you caught your breath. 

Eddie collapsed beside you, sighing out. Your eyes fluttered open to look at him, still trying to catch your breath. 

“I guess…rumors hold…a bit of truth,” You panted, smiling weakly as Eddie chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“That was just a preview…catch your breath because I’m not letting you leave this bed until I’ve had my fill with you,” He whispered, smiling devilishly as he kissed your forehead and your eyes went wide. 

Eddie Munson would be the death of you. 

Once you’d had Eddie’s touch, his kiss…You were insatiable. 

Any moment you had free, you were in his grip. You experienced the ropes, the toys, everything. You now knew exactly what had all the people at Hawkins so hooked onto Eddie, his mere touch making you see stars. You had yet to actually have full penetrative sex, but it was satisfying exploring the space between. 

You hadn’t questioned your relationship, okay with not labeling it for the time. Though it seemed to really bother Steve. 

‘So, you guys finally a thing?’ 

‘He finally popped the lil question?’ 

‘Finally… or am I just hopeful again?’  

The last time he had asked, you were wearing Eddie’s shirt and boxers, cooking breakfast. You shook your head with a smile, laughing at Steve’s groan of frustration after Eddie walked out with a messy bedhead, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. 

Everything was simple and fun. 

And sure, a small part of you hoped soon Eddie would call you his. You knew you were exclusive, and that was great. But some days you had dreamed of hearing the words ‘my girl’ fall from his lips.

But you would settle with the little piece of heaven you were gifted. 

You could always sense a storm before it came. Not a literal storm, but an unfortunate event. Of course it could be argued that your anxiety led you to always sensing a storm, even if one wasn’t oncoming. But you knew the familiar feeling, your belly churning, your heart squeezed, and your head pained by pressure and nerves alike. 

It all started after the afternoon you and Eddie had been cuddling and watching trashy TV, giggling over stupid circumstances. Eddie turned over and looked at you. 

“This may sound weird but…would you be okay if I used you for a song?” 

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath caught in your throat. 

“Uh, sure…That’s okay,” you replied meekly, heart leaping at the thought of your closest friend and romantic interest with benefits writing something about you. For you. 

He smiled at you, those ice melting dimples causing your mind to turn to goo. You smiled back shyly, snuggling back into the crook of his arm. 

Then your phone buzzed, causing your brow to furrow. 

You looked down at the screen in your hand, seeing a notification from Instagram.

@ChrissytheCutie has followed you!

You felt a sense of confusion and sourness build. You didn’t know the account, but decided to brush it off. You didn’t post much anyways and you knew a bunch of people would just follow you after seeing you went to Hawkins. 

And boy…

Was that a mistake. 

Taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles @corrodedcoffincumslut @kirisuteg0men @bebe07011 @amira0303 @vintagehellfire @lottie-90 @animechick555

[sixofpomegranates]

☠︎ Tutor ☠︎

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Carver!Fem!Reader

Word count: 13K (it's a long one | That's what she said.)

Summary: Trading tutoring for guitar lessons, Reader’s hopeless crush on the towns freak doesn't seem so hopeless after all.

☞ Picture does not describe the looks of the reader!

A/N: !Body & Skin color Neutral! Reader! IMPORTANT: Jason is also still alive. Reader is Jason's cousin and grew up with Robin as her best friend. They worked together with Steve at Scoops Ahoy.

CW: Smut, Fluff, Angst 18+| Eddie (Bullying/Self-Deprecation/Feeling of not being good enough) It is implied that Eddie has ADHD or is at least in the spectrum, [y/n] (Rich Parents not supporting your dreams/Shady family wealth-white supremacists) Mentions of Vecna/Chrissy/S4/Near-death experience/Scars/Nightmares, Pining, Drugs & use of (Weed), Making-out, Fingering, Penetrative Sex (Virginity/Loss of virginity, Unprotected, Creampie)

Pinning my tutoring flyer on the board in school, I sigh. Another year of tutoring to have more than this couple of peanuts my parents consider my pocket money, I guess.

Fun fact, it's called pocket money because it's little enough to fit in your pockets, even if Dad gives it to you in pennies.

But okay, I want something, I'm eighteen, and I am able to earn the money for it. Sure, my uncle and aunt just bought Jason a new car because our family name's soaked in wealth, and apparently, we think that the price of a dead girlfriend is exactly the same as for an Audi 5000CS Turbo Quattro; but okay...

If anyone in my family would know that the disaster that was March and the giant earthquake were actually a real-life boogie man coming to collect teens; and that there was something the kids I tutored over the last years called 'The Upside Down', I'd get my guitar lessons paid within the blink of an eye...

But Robin, Steve, and Nancy were very clear about why I've got to keep it to myself.

So no hero status or guitar lessons for me, only tutoring either a child that Steve will adopt the second it comes into his five-mile radius or a stupid jock that will try flirting with me every session and stare at my cleavage instead of his books.

Simply not fair.

As somebody reaches past me to grab my flyer, I jump so severely that my headphones fall off my ears, and the smell of marihuana fills my nose.

"Jesus," I mutter, turning to the person behind me and meeting the face of Hawkins's most hated man. Eddie Munson.

March has fucked up everyone; me being particularly jumpy and having my walkman on all the time is actually one of the better outcomes.

Eddie is now hated by most. They couldn't link him to a satanic cult (Just officially named him a freak and loser that likes dungeons and dragons, which seems to be a gateway drug to demon worshipping now...) and with the government and Chief Hopper's help, they also stopped trying to convict him of Chrissy's murder, but the town hates him.

They still believe he has something to do with it, whether proven innocent or not.

How he still makes it through the day, a big smile on his lips, truly baffles me.

"So, you're tutoring?" he asks, not looking up from my flyer. I nod. "Yeah, need the money."

"You only tutor the freshmen or..." "Everyone's welcome," I smile, turning off my music. "Even the full-on, nonconformist metalheads."

Cocking his head, he raises his eyebrows. "You really think you could help me pass chemistry with Kaminsky?"

"Depends." "On what?" I grin. "If you pay for your lessons."

Faking a heartbroken reaction, he giggles. "And that after I saved you from being demobat food. I'm a hero, y'know?"

Shrugging, I pin another flyer on the board. "Well, Munson, what can I say? We are living in a material world, and I am a material girl."

Eddie pulls a face as though he is about to vomit. "Gross, don't Madonna me."

"I Madonna as much as I like to," I laugh, punching his chest gently. "So, chemistry, anything else you'd need help with?"

That is when the bell announces lunch. I watch the metalhead tense up before me but still trying to play it cool.

"Uhm, we can talk about it while having lunch," I offer, but he shakes his head. "Nah, I- They throw stuff at me when I enter the cafeteria, so I'll just relax outside a little," he tells me, still smiling, but his eyes can't hide anything.

He's afraid.

"Yeah, sure," I smile back. "After school?"

The hallway starts to fill with students, and Eddie becomes visibly uneasy. He already begins removing himself from the conversation, turning around only to lift his flyer. "After school," he calls over to me and vanishes in the crowd.

*****

After school, I wait outside for Eddie, having him see me and smile from afar, ditching Dusting and Mike while they're still talking to him and running up to me.

"Hey, Carver," he says teasingly, making me smile. "Hey, Edward."

He nods, knowing he deserves the comeback. "You shall be forgiven."

"Okay, business talk. What classes do you need help with?" I ask, looking around. My parents insist on my cousin driving me home for safety, and I really want to avoid Jason seeing me with Eddie.

"Well, chemistry is currently the biggest problem. Have you heard of Kaminsky's All-or-Nothing Test?" I nod. "That's the one you have to take if you screwed up every other test-" Realization washes over me. "Oh, Eddie."

He smiles at me apologetically, cheeks turning a little pink.

"Why didn't you say something earlier? I- We could've studied together."

He shrugs. "To be fair, I know we were in the Upside Down together and stuff, but I didn't think we'd know each other enough to ask."

True, we don't. I'd only ever seen Eddie from afar in school or at the mall. And before all hell broke loose with Chrissy's death and those bat-things nearly killing him, I'd actually been massively intimidated by him.

He is loud, handsome, and definitely a little crazy; that had been enough to keep me away.

But since the Upside Down... That place and all that comes with it – let's just say it helps you forget your social status and makes you become allies even with the handsomely crazy ones.

"I- I still would've helped you if you'd asked. You have to graduate this year, or else-" He interrupts me. "I know. I just didn't want to be a burden. Like, 'Oh, you killed a bat for me, now I have to study with you.'"

"You're not a burden, Munson," I tell him, looking into his warm, brown eyes.

"Heard different things before, and you only say that because you haven't tried studying with me yet," he grins. "So, how much per lesson?"

"How bout a deal?" I ask him back before all bravery can leave me. Eddie's lips split into a gorgeous but mischievous smile. "Oh, I'm good at dealing."

"I swear if you pull out your lunch-" Before I can end my sentence, he's already pulled out the black metal box containing his drugs.

"Eddie, you're not paying me with drugs," I tell him sternly, forcing him to put the lunchbox back into his backpack.

"It's good stuff," he tries to assure me, but I shake my head, hardly able to bite back a grin. "And I still don't want it."

After a final try at handing me the metal box, he shrugs, putting it away.

"You play guitar, right?" I ask him as if I haven't been part of the most metal concert the Upside Down has ever experienced. "How bought instead of paying me, you teach me? I wanted to take classes with that money anyway."

He blinks at me a couple of times before letting out a loud, excited laugh. "Y-Yeah. Totally. I- I taught it myself, so if I can learn it, you can learn it."

"Cool," I answer. He scratches the back of his head, echoing me, "Cool."

We stare at each other for a moment, somehow not knowing what to say. God, this is awkward, isn't it? Am I making it awkward?

Quickly clearing my throat, I announce, "I'm babysitting Mike and Holly tonight, and the Wheelers always allow me to bring company. So, bring your books, and we'll see how bad the situation actually is."

Eddie smiles, as he almost always does. It is actually quite distracting. "Okay. Uhm, then I meet you there at...?"

"Six," I blurt out, then giggle a little anxious. "Six. Great," he chuckles in reply.

Before either of us can say another word, our attention is drawn to a small group of jocks, Jason being their leader, on their way to us and their cars.

"I'm gonna drive the kids home," Eddie tells me, still smiling as if he could hide the real reason he wants to leave. I grant him the illusion of having fooled me, smiling, "Okay. See you tonight."

I watch him hurry away, get Mike, Lucas, and Dustin – including their bikes – into his van, and drive off. Jason rushes now closer, having seen us from afar. He lays his arm around my shoulder, pulling me uncomfortably close.

Maybe I'd felt safe being protected by him when I was five, but now I only see the always returning, dangerous paranoia in him. The way he brutally beat Lucas, saying he protected Max but left them both behind as the Upside Down ripped through the old Creel house... He isn't the same person he was before Chrissy died anymore.

"Hey, was the freak bothering you?" I struggle out of Jason's hold, walking to his car. "No, he wasn't, and don't call him that."

He opens the car, throwing his backpack into the backseat. "Come one, [y/n]. You know this guy's a satanic cult leader and murderer. Think of what he did to Chrissy."

It always spins back to this. It always becomes religious. Religion, whichever you pick, can be beautiful, but unstable people will always find a way to turn it into a weapon for their insane reasoning.

"He didn't do a thing to Chrissy, and you know it," I tell Jason, hating that I can't just explain everything to him. I honestly don't even think he would believe me. He's too far gone.

"I know what I saw," he insists as we sit in the car, harshly gripping my wrist. "Around him, things happen. Strange things, evil things."

His fixation on Eddie never eased, even after he was proven innocent. Jason believes in everything being the fault of the sweet metalhead, simply because he was in the wrong place, with the wrong person, at the wrong time.

"You need some serious therapy before this whole town joins your bullshit again, and we have a second Salem witch trial on our hands," I snarl at my cousin, ripping my wrist from his grasp.

The more delusional he becomes, the more violent even his slightest actions become.

"I'm just watching out for you," Jason tries to explain, driving out of the school's parking lot. "Do me a favor and don't," I ask of him, looking out of the window.

My conversation-ending tone, however, isn't enough for him. As if he could frighten me with his tough-guy act, he threatens, "Stay away from Munson, or I'm telling your parents."

I nod. "Well, in that case, I'm telling Aunt Iris and Uncle Frank of how you faked a house break-in to hide the aftermath of your School's Out Party '84."

The discussion finally dies. Jason turns on the radio, listening to the religious station he's recently so obsessed with, and I continue staring out the window, watching cars pass us by.

*****

After getting Holly to say goodbye to her parents, I tuck her in and walk into Nancy's bedroom. I sit beside Robin on the bed while Nancy does her makeup at her vanity.

"Hey, Nance? You think you could borrow me your notes for Kaminsky's class?" I ask as she is done putting on mascara.

"Yeah, here," she smiles, handing me her pink folder. "So you're really tutoring tonight instead of going out with us?"

I roll my eyes, laughing. "And I am babysitting, so you can go out."

"And we're very thankful for that," Robin snickers, styling the mane of the little plush zebra on Nancy's bed. "So, who's the poor soul fucking up chemistry?"

"Eddie," I answer, looking at the folder to avoid meeting their eyes.

"Oh, so it's that kind of a study date," Nancy says, and I meet her grin through the mirror.

"What? No. He needs help with Kaminsky's All-or-Nothing Test, and in exchange, he'll teach me how to play guitar," I begin explaining myself, but Robin nudges my arm, rolling on her back.

"Funny, 'cause when Steve needed tutoring, you were very clear about not being into trades, even when he offered you free ice cream."

"She's right," Nancy giggles, agreeing with Robin.

"No, she's not. I worked at Scoops myself, so I didn't need free ice cream. Eddie plays guitar exceptionally well, and I wanted to pay for classes with the money I would've earned. Two birds with one stone."

"And it has nothing to do with you having the hots for Munson?" Robin asks me deadpanned, and I fall silent. I feel my face heat up and shake my head.

Rolling back onto her stomach, Robin smacks my arm. "Oh, come on. [y/n], we grew up together. Journey, Led Zepplin, Dio, Black Sabbath... The phase when we were thirteen, and you were dead set on marrying Eddie Van Halen? How you drooled every time Munson passed Scoops when we were working?"

Nancy laughs loudly, and I shrug, regretting always telling Robin everything, although I know she can't keep secrets for longer than thirty minutes.

"So... I may have a type. That doesn't mean I have the hots for Eddie," I blatantly lie, Robin raising her eyebrows and grinning at me. "Which Eddie? Ours or Van Halen?"

"Fuck you," I cuss, making her only hug me and laugh at the fact that I never really curse.

Knocking on the door, Steve comes in, scanning Nancy up and down. "Hey, are you ready to leave? Mike is talking to El on the phone, and I'm getting really bored alone downstairs."

She nods, and so we all make our way downstairs. I send Mike to his room, telling him to call Eleven from the phone upstairs and walk to the front door with my friends.

Steve opens the door, almost bumping into Eddie, who was about to knock. "Munson," Steve says, surprised. "Harrington," Eddie replies, also greeting the other two. "Robin, Nancy."

His eyes fall on me, and I smile, "Hey. You got your books?" He nods, lifting his black backpack. I step aside, letting him in, "The living room's to the left. I'll be there in a second."

As Eddie can't hear us anymore, Robin grins, wiggling her eyebrows.

I ignore her. "Bye, guys. Have fun." "You too. Do nothing I wouldn't do," she cackles. I raise a brow as she hugs me. "Do I need to remind you that you're gay?"

Sticking her tongue out at me, she drags Steve to the car, Nancy already warming it up.

"Isn't Eddie coming with us?" he asks, confused, Robin wiggling her eyebrows again. "He and [y/n] are having a study date."

Steve's mom-mode kicks in the second he hears that. "Should we stay and help them study?" "Go to the movies," I insist. "Please, I can't work with you eyeing us down."

"You're staying in the living room and do nothing any of us would do. Except for Nancy. You can do what Nancy does," Steve tells me sternly.

I raise my eyebrows. "So, I'm allowed to have a shotgun and shoot Vecna?"

"No?" he asked me as though I'm completely nuts. "You can study. Nothing else."

"Yeah, no dirty couch sex," Robing calls over, making Nancy look mortified. "Robin," she exclaims, then looks at me with a pleading gaze, "Please don't have sex on my couch."

"I hate all three of you," I tell them, closing the front door just in time to hear Robin call after me, "Nah, you love us."

Shaking my head, I return to the living room, where Eddie is busy walking and looking around.

As he notices me, he grins. "I like this place." I smile back. "Yeah, the Wheelers have good taste."

Stretching his arms out, he spins slowly in the living room. "It's so big. I mean, look at this. All of this is the living room, and nobody sleeps here."

"Your uncle sleeps on the couch?" I ask without thinking, quickly regretting my question.

Eddie's cheeks become red, and he stops what he's doing. "Folding bed, but it's a good one..." he tries assuring me, voice falling flat with embarrassment.

I smile at him, sitting down on the carpet and unpacking my study materials on the coffee table. Grabbing his hand, I make Eddie sit beside me and hand him Nancy's pink folder.

"Y-You have a pretty handwriting," he compliments me while flipping through it. "Oh, those are Nancy's notes. She's so anal about them," I tell him, handing him some of my notes for comparison. "That's mine. Not that clean."

After staring at them for a few seconds, he looks at me. "Huh. Like yours better."

"Charmer," I say, my face becoming hot again. To distract, I hand Eddie my chemistry book. "Here."

"What are we doing?" Eddie asks as I hand him a bunch of sticky notes.

"We're transferring my notes into your book. I like to use those to write down simplifications, extra notes, and explanations, and then I stick them on my pages. I also color-coordinate the highlighter I use with the color of my sticky notes. I believe it's more comfortable to learn if it's easier on the eyes..."

Feeling Eddie stare at me, I stop talking, look back at him, and ask, "What?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "Nothing, just... thanks."

*****

"Wrong again. Maybe we should focus on-" After hours, I finally feel my patience running thin. "Eddie?"

"Huh?" He asks as though he hasn't been staring at me for the last five minutes.

Fuck, am I so boring that he starts zoning out?

"I was talking to you. I- Can you please try to concentrate?" I ask him, smiling, trying not to sound offended.

He nods, stretching a little before leaning over our books again. "Totally. Yeah. Sure. Sorry."

As he answers the question wrong again, a deep frown appears on his face. I sigh, putting my pen down. "Okay. How bout a break? I'll need to get Mike to go to bed anyway."

He nods, almost relieved, and I make my way upstairs. After some debating and a non-verbal threat, I take the phone out of Mike's room, and it's lights out as his parents requested. I know he'll still stay up some hours reading his comics, but I'm willing to let that slip.

When I come back into the living room, Eddie's gone. Instead, he sits outside on the porch, smoking.

"Hey, is that marihuana?" Of course, it is. He smiles at me charmingly. "It's just a little pot to help me concentrate," he says as if I wasn't about to jump his throat.

A wave of anger rushes over me. "Are you even taking the whole thing seriously? I mean, I've been sitting in there for three and a half hours, trying to teach you something, and the first chance you get, you run outside to get high."

I walk back inside, starting to pack my stuff. I apparently thought too highly of Eddie due to my years of crushing on him. I should've known he wasn't taking it seriously, but I just made a fool out of myself.

I hear fast footsteps behind me. "Hey, hey, [y/n]. Look, I'm sorry. I really just smoked some to concentrate." I turn around, and Eddie steps closer, pleading, "[y/n], please. I have no reason to lie to you. I promise I want to learn."

"Didn't seem like it," I murmur, and he nods.

"I- I know. It's- I struggle to focus, always have. If something isn't interesting enough, my brain just shuts off and then does silly little things it finds more interesting – like counting the little daisies on your top."

We both look down on my shirt and then at each other.

"Please, let's try it again. I swear, no more drugs, and you get me on my best behavior," he asks of me, giving me this distracting big smile again while he cups my cheeks.

"Okay," I nod, without even thinking twice. "Okay?" I nod again. "Okay, Munson. Sit down."

We sit back down, and for the next minutes, I could swear he tries really hard. But as we start working on a practicing sheet with many questions on it, his concentration seems to crumble again.

"I- I'm sorry. I think I mixed the questions up," Eddie mumbles, angry at himself.

"You always keep looking down on the next question while solving the one above," I observe, and he nods. I hand him an empty piece of paper. "Here, try that."

He holds it up, confused. "A piece of paper?" I take it, laying it over his worksheet. "As a divider. We cover the next questions, so you can't look at them."

From here on out, it actually seems to work. Yet, I yawn, exhausted from the hours of work before.

"I'm hopeless, aren't I?" Eddie asks, grinning at me. "No. I'm just tired," I answer. "You're actually doing well."

His grin becomes wider. "I so do not believe you." He gives me a gentle shove, making me giggle, "I'm serious. Especially now that we stopped you from mixing up the questions."

"Do you think I'll pass the test?" This time Eddie seems more serious; there is no smile on his face that would indicate that he has any hopes for it. "If you study enough... I mean, Kaminsky's tests are super hard, but like, I'll help you as much as you need me to."

"Nice way to say that I'm fucked, Sweetheart," he coos, hand moving up to my face again. His cold rings burn on my hot cheeks. "You have to study for your own finals. I can't have you hold my hand through my own mess."

"Eddie, I have my studies down and don't mind helping you," I tell him, although I'd rather whine as he removes his hand. I wish he would've left it there.

"Hey, you know what my mom made me do whenever I wanted to achieve something?" I ask him, taking one of Holly's green sheets of crafting paper and folding it in half. "Goal cards. Write down the reason you want to graduate."

"The reason? I'd say because I'm twenty and can't repeat class again?" He deadpans, making me shake my head.

"Not like that. I meant the hopes you have." Licking my lips, I admit, "Like, when I was thirteen, I made one, saying I wanted to learn how to play guitar. Inside I wrote that I was doing it to become a famous musician and marry Eddie Van Halen. Even glued a picture of him in it."

Eddie is quiet for a moment, then bursts into laughter. I shove him. "Stop laughing. I'm trying to help you here."

He nods, whipping away some tears, "Uh-huh." "Fuck you," I tell him in fake appall.

Eddie collects himself, shoving me back and mocking me, "Oh, such big words from such a proper little lady."

As calmness returns to the room, he grabs his pen and the card, opening it. He stares at it for a while, pen ever so often pushing onto the paper, but no words come out.

"Do I have to write it down?" he asks me, a little defeated, this time without a smile. "If you want, you can tell me, and I'll write it down for you," I offer, and he hands it over to me.

Eddie is silent for a while, caught in deep thoughts. Suddenly he says, "I- I want to graduate, so I'm not ending up like my dad."

I look up at him, not yet writing. He continues to explain himself, "He dropped out, married his high school sweetheart, and just barely got by with petty crimes or – you know – selling drugs and stealing cars. Then mom died, and he just spiraled, became violent..."

As his voice loses its strength, I ask, "Where's he now?"

Eddie shrugs. "Does it matter? Prison? Maybe dead?" he says. "Uncle Wayne took me in after CPS contacted him about my dad breaking my arm when he was high... He told his younger brother to fuck off, and we haven't heard from him since."

We're quiet. I don't know what to say. I can't even remember his parents. I only know the version of Eddie that he is now.

"I changed my mind," he then says, tapping on his goal card. "Write that I wanna be a better nephew to Wayne... Don't wanna be a burden anymore, a fuck-up."

I shake my head. "Eddie, you're not a burden. Your uncle loves you."

He nods. "And I only disappoint him. I can't even fucking finish high school. I sit in my room all day, preparing for my D&D campaigns or playing guitar. I sell drugs to assholes that love beating the crap out of me for being a freak, and now I am also a satanic cult leader with demonic powers that murdered Chrissy and two other guys I didn't even know... Yeah, [y/n]. I totally don't sound like a burden."

I'm shocked at how low Eddie seems to actually think of himself. Behind this always smiling and joking façade, there seem to hide years of self-hatred and a, probably trained by his father and the school system, thought of being a worthless burden.

"You took in freshmen, nerdy little kids that don't fit in. You let them be part of your club so they wouldn't have to be alone or get bullied," I argue, having him shrug. "Somebody had to. People can be real assholes."

"You saved Hawkins." "Not like I can tell anyone about it."

I smile a little, "Well, you also saved me from those bats, almost getting killed while trying." "Matter, of course. Everyone would've done that."

I shake my head, "No, they wouldn't, and you know it. Jason didn't care for Lucas or Max, even though he claimed to have beaten Lucas to protect her. He just pissed himself, ran away, and saved his own ass."

Eddie gives me a half-hearted smile and lays his hand on mine, patting it several times. I close the cart and hand it to him. "How about you keep your goal card and write something inside it once it feels right, okay?"

He nods, putting it between the pages of his book where I think it will get forgotten. Then he opens the book on one of the other chapters, pointing at something.

"Can we go over that E cell stuff again?" He asks, clearly wanting to change the subject. I nod. He's been open enough for one evening. "Sure."

After learning for another hour, I fall asleep, face on the coffee table. When I wake up, Eddie is gone, only his leather jacket draped over me like a blanket. In my book, I find a small note asking me to study with him at his place on Friday.

*****

"You call me, and I'll pick you up; my number's on the back," Jason lectures me as he holds his car in front of the Munson trailer, handing me one of the phones from his duffle bag. "I'm meeting with friends, but should you need anything-"

"Don't sell your soul to the devil, and please call me. Yeah, I know," I interrupt him, eying the mobile phone in my hand. "Those things are starting to become really small, or am I crazy?"

He sighs, hating that I am going to spend the day in the trailer his girlfriend died in, with the guy who was the last to have seen her alive.

"Seriously, [y/n]. The minute he tries something, or you realize you're in a circle of blood with strange symbols drawn around it-" "Yeah, because that happens so casually often," I interrupt my cousin again.

"This is about your safety," he tells me as though I am unreasonable. "No, this is about you being paranoid and needing therapy," I answer, grabbing my bag and getting out of the car. "Thanks for driving me. See ya later."

I walk over to the trailer, knocking a couple of times. After a few seconds, Wayne Munson, Eddie's uncle, opens the door.

"Yeah?" he asks, holding a baseball bat behind his back. A safety precaution, I understand but disklike that he has to have.

"Hi, Mr. Munson. I'm here to see Eddie." He eyes me up and down, and I add, "I'm his friend. I help him study."

He looks over my shoulder, nodding to Jason's car with his chin. "And your friend in the car? That's Jason Carver, that little bastard," he says, highly suspicious of me.

"He's my cousin. My parents want him to drive me around since the earthquake," I explain, and his face becomes softer. "I'm sorry, Kid. I-"

I interrupt him with a smile. I understand why he has to be protective of Eddie after all that happened. "No, don't worry. I'm not crazy about that mental case either," I say. "Uhm, can I come in? I'm afraid he might get out of the car if we stay out here for too long."

Wayne lets me in, closing and locking the door behind me. From Eddie's room comes the sound of an acoustic guitar playing 'Sweet Leaf', one of my favorite songs.

"Eddie, your friend is here," he calls down the small hallway. I join him, calling, "Hi, Eddie."

We hear some rummaging and cussing, then Eddie practically rushes out of his room, only wearing his boxers.

"Hey, [y/n]," he greets me as I instantly look the other way, feeling my face burn like fire.

"Son, put some damn close on. You're in the presents of a lady, for God's sake," his uncle scolds him, and after a millisecond, Eddie cusses like a sailor.

"Shit, fuck. Sorry, I just woke up. I- It'll only be a second," he tells me, and from the bumping sound, I figure he almost ran into his bedroom door.

"Uh-huh. Take your time," I tell him, finally looking in his direction again as the door closes.

"Now, [y/n], can I offer you something to drink?" Wayne asks me, and I shake my head. "No, thanks. I'm good," I tell him, looking around the living area I know pretty well in both this dimension and whatever the Upside Down is.

It is scary to think that the portal simply closed, not leaving an ounce of trace that it ever even existed.

My eyes fall to the folding bed, open in the middle of the room. Eddie's uncle rushes over, taking the blanket and pillow and putting them inside the couch's storage department.

"Sorry, he didn't tell me he'd expected someone," he explains, embarrassed, folding away his bed. I smile at him, shaking my head. "Don't worry. Really."

The awkward silence is broken by Eddie coming out dressed in black, ripped jeans and a washed-out band shirt.

"Hey, hi," he greets me again. "Hi," I answer.

"I- I made the study cards you told me to," he explains proudly, and I grin. "Do they work?" "I think so. C'mon."

With his hand on my back, he escorts me to his room, signaling me to sit down on his bed. I, instead, only put my bag there and look around his room. In bright daylight and without the risk of dying or Robin screaming that we need music to save Nancy, it's actually nice in here.

It helps that it's also cleaner than last time and smells like air freshener and fresh linen.

"Edward, the door stays open," Wayne calls into the room, just as I pass a pile of clothes next to his closet, to look at the small, hand-painted figures that I think belong to his dungeons and dragons game.

I turn around, looking at Eddie. "So, the door stays open," I tease him jokingly, and he nods, becoming red while scratching the back of his curly head.

"Yeah. When something happens again, Wayne can give me an alibi saying he saw you the whole time during your visit and that you were okay."

My smile instantly vanishes, and I begin to apologize, "Oh, right. Sorry, I didn't think of that. I thought it was because-" "Because I'm having a pretty girl in my room?" he asks, tilting his head and stepping closer.

My breath hitches as he backs me up closer to the wall; I bump into the dresser behind me. "Naughty girl," he whispers with a mischievous grin as he cages me between his arms and his dresser.

I shake my head, becoming dizzy, "I- I- I didn't-" He chuckles, "I'm just teasing you, Carver. Calm down."

I am almost disappointed as he steps away, truly having only teased me. I turn my back to him before he can see the look on my face, but my gaze meets a mirror, showing me my pout.

Silly. It's silly that I'm sad he wasn't actually flirting with me. I focus on the guitar hanging in front of the mirror. Sweetheart, that's what Eddie calls the guitar. I begin chewing on my bottom lip, telling myself that I don't need this metalhead to like me back.

It would be too difficult anyway. Especially in fucked up times like these, where we don't know when Vecna returns.

Doesn't make me want Eddie any less, though...

"You like her?" Eddie asks behind me. I nod, suddenly feeling his hand on my shoulder, moving me back to the bed. "Well, not gonna let you touch her just yet. You need to learn acoustic first."

As I sit down on his bed, Eddie takes the black acoustic guitar full of band stickers that was leaning next to it and kneels down in front of me, showing it to me.

"This is Honey. She was my first guitar, first love, if you will," he chuckles. "She's pretty," I whisper. Eddie nods, "Glad you think so, 'cause she's yours now."

"What?" I exclaim, making him laugh. "Don't look so shocked," he says. "You need a guitar to practice on."

"But she's yours." He nods again, laying the guitar on my lap. "And she's been painfully neglected for years now, especially since I bought Sweetheart. Now take her and be good to her."

"Thank you," I whisper, following the outline of an old Metallica sticker.

As I look up, mine and Eddie's eyes meet. He'd been watching me closely. We grin at each other a little stupidly, and I feel my heart race like it's trying to win a marathon.

"I made you something," he says suddenly, jumping up and grabbing a bunch of small cards from one of his drawers. "Those are the different chords and where you have to put your fingers."

On the cards are drawn guitars necks, dots on the exact spots where my fingers need to be. "These are awesome, Eddie. And you really made those cards for me?"

He nods, cheeks turning pink, "We have a deal, after all. And if I teach you how to play guitar, I damn well will make sure you're becoming a real star at it."

I put the guitar aside and take his jacket out of my backpack, awkwardly and completely flustered, handing it to him. "You forgot your jacket at the Wheelers' home a couple of days ago."

"I didn't want you to freeze," he says, throwing it aside. "Why did you leave?"

"Because I know the reaction people have when they see me. I didn't want Mike's parents to think I was there to sacrifice their kids or have them be mad at you for letting me in."

I bite my lips again. "I wish you would've stayed. We could've gone home together." "I could've driven you home..." he smiles for a second before it vanishes again. "But people know my van, can't have you be seen with me."

Before I can stop myself, I say, "I don't mind being seen with you, Eddie."

He stares at me, touched, chocolate brown eyes becoming glassy, "T-That's a C. You think you can play it?" he quickly asks, swallowing hard and handing me one of the cards as a distraction.

I take the guitar but struggle with my finger placement. Eddie notices it and crawls behind me on the neatly made bed.

Hands on my waist, he makes me sit between his legs and helps me hold the guitar correctly. "Is that okay?" he asks, looking at me over my shoulder.

I nod, and he takes my fingers, placing them on the strings. As they are placed, he hands me a pick and helps me play that note. It sounds correct, and I smile at him. Eddie smiles back at me as though I just performed a concert for him.

"There you go, rockstar," he chuckles, placing my fingers differently again.

For a while, we play the chords, and I become more and more comfortable with his arms around me. It feels nice. Safe and calm.

We're both ripped from the moment as Wayne knocks on the open bedroom door. "Hey, you two. I'm going to work. Can I leave you both alone?"

Eddie nods, barely acknowledging his uncle. "Uh-huh."

"Eddie, are you sure-"

This time he looks up, interrupting his uncle, "Yes, Wayne. We're just playing guitar and studying a little. I promise nothing shady will happen." Eddie looks at me, "Right?"

I nod, assuring his uncle, "Oh, yeah. Absolutely not. I'm also getting picked up later."

The man nods, hand running over his head. "Okay. I- I'm just worried."

"I know," Eddie tells him, this time seeming to accept and understand his uncle's worries. They share a serious look that shows concern and affection.

Then Eddie smiles again, pointing at the polaroid camera on his dresser, "Hey, can you take a picture of us?" He asks, having his uncle nod. "Sure, son."

"That's okay for you, is it?" Eddie whispers into my ear, making goosebumps appear on my skin. I grin, nodding lovesick.

After taking a picture of us, me seated between Eddie's legs, the guitar in our hands, Wayne hands the picture to his nephew, wishing us goodbye, "It was nice to meet you, [y/n]. See you in the morning, kid."

"Oh, I'm gonna keep that one," Eddie whispers delightedly, looking at the picture.

I put the guitar aside, trying to look at the polaroid. "Why?"

"No reason," he tells me, standing up. I follow him, "Why, Eddie?"

"Because you look cute in it," he says, but this isn't enough for me.

I try to grab the picture, but he holds it up. Therefore, I stand as close to him as possible, standing on the tip of my toes to reach it.

Eddie wraps an arm around my waist, starting to spin us around. "Care for a dance, milady?

"You're so weird," I giggle, unable to reach the picture, but holding on to his wrist.

"Oh, Sweetheart, I'm completely insane," he tells me, stopping our spinning. "Now sit down and tutor me."

He softly pushes me back on the bed, and I make myself comfortable, looking at my own study cards while Eddie sits down next to me, going through his own. I have no idea where the polaroid picture went, but I sure hope I don't look ridiculous in it.

After two hours of learning together, Eddie lies back, staring at the ceiling. "I need a break."

I put the guitar aside and join him. "Same. My fingers are killing me."

"Yeah... Takes some time till you build up calluses," he chuckles, taking my hand into his, gently kissing my sore fingertips and stealing my breath. "Pretty soon, your pretty lil fingers will look like mine."

I don't know how he does it, but Eddie makes my heart beat so fast I feel like becoming dizzy; he always had me wrapped around his finger in that way, even as I only knew him from afar.

He's everything that my parents taught me to avoid, but I want to admire him forever.

"So you think I'll pass the test?" He asks me with a crooked smile, luring me back into reality. "Hm... I'd say I'm 99.9% sure," I smile, making him nod bothered as he lets go of my hand.

"Yeah, still room for me to fail." I prob myself up on my elbows, assuring him, "Well, I believe you'll make it."

A grin creeps over his features, making me certain that mischief is brewing together a plan under his curly mop of hair. "Would you be mad at me if I'd smoke one as a reward?"

I shake my head, and he sits up, grabbing a pre-rolled joint from his cluttered nightstand. "Do you want to...?" He offers, lighting it and taking a hit.

I shrug, uncertain since I've never done something like it before. "Uh... I- I don't know."

He looks at me with a serious face. "Hey, I'm not somebody that's pressuring others into things. I just thought... Would you want to try it? Now would be your chance, and it's safest to get high for the first time when there's somebody with you who has experience and watches over you."

I sit up as well, nodding. It isn't like I never wanted to try it.

"You sure?" He asks sternly, trying to avoid a reaction of mine that is solely based on the need to impress him.

I nod again. "Yes. Please."

Eddie leans over, holding the joint's butt to me. I lean forward, lips on the joint, taking my first pull; his eyes are on me, face as close as possible to inspect me.

"There you go. Small hits, baby," he coos his instructions. "Hold it, and now let go," I do as he says, coughing a little due to the smoke in my lungs. "Burns a little, I know."

It is hard not to stare as we lock eyes, his chocolate brown ones metaphorically bringing me to my knees. He has me smoke half of the joint, and as stupid as I feel for thinking like that, it feels intimate.

The way his big hands bring the joint back and forth between us, the gentle way he coos and praises me, and his eyes, his eyes are on me, so fascinated and intrigued as though I am one of the dirty magazines he unsuccessfully tried to hide under the bed.

I love that gaze of his and want to find a way to make it stay, although I probably just over-romanticize it because of the pot and my crush on Eddie.

As he puts the joint's end into the ashtray on his nightstands, I let myself fall back onto his mattress. "This feels nice," I say, feeling wholly carefree and peaceful for the first time since Vecna.

Eddie lies down beside me, explaining, "Yeah, it's the good stuff. Knocks us out for a while, perfect for relaxing."

We lay on our sides, facing each other. As he reaches out and brushes his knuckles over my cheek, I notice some ink on the back of his hand. I take it and read, 'Clean bedroom. [y/n].' on it.

I like my name on his skin; a weird thing to feel, but it fills me with a bit of pride.

"You forgot that," I tease him, pointing at the to-do list on the back of his hands. He chuckles, "Baby, I wasn't in school so that I could clean up."

I sit up, looking around. Then I giggle. "Okay..." "Hey," Eddie warns me in fake appall. "I even changed the sheets today."

I'd noticed the sweet, floral smell of the linen under me earlier, so I nod. "I appreciate the effort," I tell him, laying back down and kicking off my shoes.

"Where will life take you after graduation, Carver?" He asked as I make myself comfortable on his mismatched set of pillows.

"Where will it take you?" I ask back, but he quickly dismisses my question. "We both know I'll stay trailer trash, now answer me."

I sigh, saying my secret plan out loud for the first time, "I'll take the trust fund I'll gain access to once I have my diploma and run."

He furrows his brows. "So you'll leave us?"

"I meant that metaphorically," I say, making him look confused. "My family had different funds set up for me when I was born. One for high school graduation, one for college, one for marrying, and one for when I have children – a son, to be specific..." I explain.

"That sounds like a very thought-through version of manipulation," Eddie concludes, angered, seeming disgusted by my family's forced conforming.

"It is. I grew up thinking that I have to achieve all these set goals, but now..." Another sigh escapes me. "We don't know when Vecna will return, and every fight becomes more dangerous. I don't want to go to college and become a rich, famous, whatever. I don't want to play happy housewife for an upper-class jock my parents pick for me.

"If I die, I want to be able to look back and know I chose my happiness instead of social obligation."

My whole life, I'd been the perfect, preppy, old-money daughter my family had wanted. I exceeded in school, never went to parties, and stayed away from 'bad apples'. But I'd almost died, and as the weeks had passed, I came to realize that I would've left a life of unfulfilled dreams behind. One I'd only lived to make my parents proud.

"You thought about that a lot, huh?" I nod. "Ever since the bats attacked us."

My hand wanders over Eddie's stomach, resting on a spot I know is now holding a serious scar. He'd gotten it while protecting me from the bats as I'd tried to lure them from the trailer.

"Does it still hurt?" "Only sometimes. At least I have some very metal scars now," he jokes, hand coming up to my thigh.

Under my clothes, I hide some scars as well. It's not like I am ashamed of them. Why should I be? But they need to heal and fade enough to stop looking like bites first – as my family believes they come from an accident caused by the earthquake.

"What about yours?" Eddie asks, and I nod. "Same here. Do you sometimes dream of the Upside Down?"

"Aren't we all?" he chuckles, pushing down the trauma we all experienced. "It took me a while to even realize that all that actually happened, and when the wounds stopped hurting..."

"It'll get easier," I assure him as his arm moves up to my waist—another spot where a scar rests. I'm surprised he still remembers all of the spots.

"Right, wasn't your first rodeo," he remembers. "So, what are you doing with the money? Your trust fund, I mean."

I grin, biting my bottom lip, "You know the retail park between Hawkins and Derry?" "Who doesn't?" he laughs. "I wanna rent a space there and have my own music store. Sell instruments, cassette tapes, records... All of it."

Eddie's eyes become wide, sparkly. I seem to have piqued his interest. "Sounds amazing." "You think?" I ask, and he nods. "Totally. We'll always have music, so you'll always have a job there."

Either his reaction, his touch, or the pot – maybe all three of the things combined – have me smile. I prop myself on my elbow, hand dancing over the letters of his old Black Sabbath shirt.

"If you're not too set on becoming trailer trash..." I start, feeling his heartbeat under my fingers. "I could always use a good business partner who loves music."

"Be careful with those words, Sweetheart," Eddie warns me, propping himself up as well. "'Cause if you mean them, you'll never, never, ever get rid of me."

As he begins towering over me, I whisper, "Sounds good to me."

And just like that, his lips collide with mine. I feel like bursting into flames, like I am losing my mind, and as though I only imagine this moment. I let myself fall back into the pillows, taking Eddie with me as he crawls on top of me.

The kiss is heated and longing. Eddie's hand cradles my face, wanders upwards, and his fingers tangle themselves into my hair. I gasp into the kiss as he tugs on my hair, my hips jolting up due to the literal electricity he created within me.

Suddenly the kiss stops. Eddie sits back up on his heels and looks as though he just violated me. "I- I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you. That wasn't okay. You're high, you're-"

I sit up as well, embarrassment almost making me dizzy as I admit, "That had nothing to do with me being high. Did- Did you just do it because...?"

He shakes his head so harshly that I fear he'd give himself whiplash. "Was looking for a chance to do that for a while now."

I can't believe his words, asking, "Really?"

Eddie nods, looking me up and down as he licks his lips, "Jesus, you're so fucking pretty. Makes me dizzy."

We giggle and smile at each other childishly. I'd never thought he'd be interested in someone like me. I'm not an innocent, happy-go-lucky, preppy cheerleader like Chrissy was. I'm not a cool, not caring what people think of me – metalhead like him.

I am basic, normal. I go to school and do my homework, I listen to all types of music, mostly not even caring for genres since I mix through them all the time anyway, and I dress uncoordinated, solely based on what makes me happy that morning.

I've always thought I was invisible, one of the nice girls you see for five minutes in a movie and have totally forgotten about by the time the credits come on. This had given me some advantages as we saved Hawkins but socially made me feel out of place...

Eddie leans closer again, making me back onto the pillows, his knee between my legs. "That okay?" he asks softly, and I nod.

He towers over me, making my heart beat irrationally. He's so beautiful, and the fact that he wants me has me forget everything, even my name. I push myself up, cupping his cheeks; our eyes lock as he looks just as surprised and overwhelmed about all this as I am.

This time, I kiss him. His lips are soft and gentle as he kisses me back, hands carefully roaming my body as though I'm made of glass. I kissed a few guys before, but none of them had ever made me feel like this.

It feels so right. Like I was made to be in Eddie's arms, being accepted although coming with nothing else to offer than myself.

As our kiss becomes messy, something I've never experienced before, our hands become greedy and inquisitive. As my nails dig into his upper arms, Eddie's hand cups my clothed breast, groping it harshly.

As I moan into the kiss, he chuckles, kissing down my neck and plastering its skin with hickeys and soft love bites.

I moan again, hips jolting up and causing me to whimper as I accidentally rub my most sensitive area against his thigh. "Fuck," I softly cry, repeating the motion once more.

Pecking my lips softly, Eddie places himself now entirely between my legs. I can feel his erection through our clothes, right where I want him most.

"Nice, huh?" he asks teasingly, rolling his hips against me and enjoying how my eyes roll back.

Our lips find each other again, and while we sloppily begin making out again, our bodies move in unison, friction having us moan and gasp into our kisses.

As his hand sneaks under my shirt, cool rings kissing the warmth of my body, I stop Eddie. Propping myself up a little, I stammer, embarrassed, "Can we just- I don't- I never..."

I've never done anything like this before. Before today, I never kissed somebody with this much passion, never let one touch me like this. I've never felt this need, lighting my body on fire, before... And it scares me. I am not sure if I want to go any further than this.

Eddie smiles and softly chuckles. He leans down, kissing my cheek. "No worries. Rule one of being high is not to make big decisions when high. Have two tattoos proofing that point."

Somehow, I expected him to be mad at me.

"So you're okay with just kissing?" I ask, concerned, but he drops onto his elbows, forehead against mine. "I could do that for a lifetime."

Turning on some music, which plays softly in the background, we fall into another kiss, and another, and another. At one point, Eddie even has me sitting in his lap, hands groping my ass as he bucks his hips against me.

Only as our lips are sore, we cuddle on his bed, lips still coming together for little kisses from time to time.

I fall asleep in his arms, feeling safe and happy; I dream of this moment lasting forever.

*****

The next time I open my eyes, it is dark around me. I hate being in the dark, I become nervous and scared. Time has shown me over and over again why I should stay away from the darkness, but Eddie's chest, slowly rising underneath me and his arm around me, have me calm.

Closing my eyes again, I try to go back to sleep.

"She was supposed to be home hours ago, old man!" An angry voice yells outside the trailer.

"Listen, I am sure there is an explanation-" an older voice tries to communicate calmly but is interrupted.

"I don't give a shit about your excuses. You and that satanic scumbag-"

The older raises his voice warningly, "Hey, be careful what you're saying."

Eddie moves underneath me, laying on his side and pulling me into a hug. Suddenly he jumps up, turning on the lights. "Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit."

"What is it?" I ask sleep-drunkenly. "We fell asleep, Sweetheart. It's 5 a.m.," he explains loud but softly.

I jump out of bed the second my brain processes his words. "No!" I exclaim, looking at the radio alarm on Eddie's nightstand. I pull on my shoes, Eddie throwing over his jacket.

"[y/n]! [y/n], are you in there?" The angry voice from before yells, and I have a realization. "Fuck, that's Jason," I tell Eddie, who nods, handing me my backpack.

We rush outside and see Jason and his friends in front of the trailer. Wayne stands there on the steps, a baseball bat in his hand. They're all looking at Eddie and me.

I look back and forth between Wayne and Jason. "I- I'm so sorry. We fell asleep, I-" "I called you a hundred times," Jason interrupts.

I push past Wayne, walking down the steps. Eddie's uncle keeps him in the trailer, not letting him out.

"I just told you I fell asleep," I answer my cousin as he walks closer, looking at my disheveled appearance, then at Eddie's.

"What have you done to her, Munson?" Jason growls, and I step between him and the stairs. "He did nothing. What's wrong with you?"

He's clearly drunk and out for confrontation with his favorite victim.

"Fuck, you smell like a distillery," I mutter, having to look away to catch a huff of fresh air.

"We're leaving. Wait till Aunt-" my cousin tries to threaten me, grabbing my arm and walking us to the car. I shake my head, interrupting him. "You're drunk. I'm not letting you drive me."

As I try to pull my arm from his grasp, he hardens his grip. "[y/n]," he warns, trying to drag me to the car. "No," I exclaim, trying to stop walking, but Jason becomes rougher. "Ow."

"Hey, don't grab her like that," Eddie calls over, forcing himself past his uncle.

"Or what, Freak? What satanic monster from hell do you want to summon here in front of everyone?" Jason asks, irritated, fumbling his keys out of his pocket, a little cross keychain on it.

By now, half of the trailer park residents have noticed what is happening. All looking, nobody intervening.

"Man, just- just let go of her arm," Eddie tries to reason with Jason. "Please, you're hurting her."

As he takes a couple of steps closer, my cousin raises his keychain. "Don't come near us."

"Eddie, it's okay," I tell the sweet metalhead, then look to his uncle, who has his baseball bat equipped. "It's okay."

"Are you sure, girl?" Wayne asks me, concerned, but I nod.

"Yeah. I..." I finally can escape Jason's grasp and look at him and his friends. "Is anyone of you guys sober?" None are, so I sigh, "Kay. Give me your keys and get into the car."

Jason obliges since me driving the car means he gets what he wants, and I leave with him. I have the drunken jocks get back into the car, noticing that one had held a wheel-wrench the entire time.

I buckle Jason in the passenger's seat, make sure his friends buckle in as well and grab the wrench. Shaking my head, I look over at Eddie and his uncle, waving at them and trying to force a smile on my lips as I got into the driver's seat.

Leaving the trailer park, the drunks in the back fall promptly asleep, while Jason seems to calm down, experiencing an adrenaline crash. He tells me the addresses of his friends, and I drive everyone home.

"I was worried," he explains, head heavily resting on the headrest of his seat.

"I know," I sigh, having just dropped off the last one of his friends.

"I miss Chrissy," he mumbles, and I watch him take out the little velvet box he carries around everywhere. "I thought we would be together forever."

Jason had planned on proposing to his high school sweetheart after graduation. Chrissy was dead for months now, but he still carried the ring around.

I look at the broken shell of a man beside me. Jason had lost his mind when he'd lost his girlfriend. Our family believes he just needs time, but he desperately needs therapy.

He wasn't always like this; he was a good guy; we grew up like siblings – Yeah, sure, he was a little douchey sometimes, but he was the guy nice to mostly everyone—a preppy, old-money boy.

His moral compass hadn't been broken before he came into contact with Vecna's darkness.

"Eddie didn't hurt Chrissy," I tell him, but he looks at me with tears in his eyes. "I know what I saw."

I can't tell him about the Upside Down, which makes me helpless. I have to sit between the chairs, see Eddie being hated, and watch my cousin lose his sanity, and there is nothing I can do about it.

"Look," I start, carefully thinking of how to phrase my sentences, "I know what you saw. I know how it looked like and how much it scared you, but Eddie was solely at the wrong time in the wrong place when... when Chrissy and Patrick were attacked."

Jason looks at me in disbelief, his eyes wandering down to my neck, where he notices the marks left by Eddie.

"So that's how it is," he says disgustedly, sitting back in his seat and refusing to look at me again. "You let the freak fuck you, and now you're excusing him and his actions. You're choosing him instead of your own family and friends and completely disregard his victims."

"That's not what I'm doing, Jason," I say. "If- If you really think there is something evil and satanic going on... Maybe the monster hunted Chrissy and Patrick, and when it attacked, Eddie just happened to be there."

He shakes his head. "Munson is a vessel. I don't know when he became one, but I know what got him there... This satanic game and the music he listens to."

"Jason, Dungeons & Dragons is a fantasy game. It's like being the main character in The Hobbit. You know we loved that book when we were younger. It's harmless, and Eddie is basically a sweet nerd with rough edges. And his taste in music...

"It's just metal. You know it doesn't make you a murderer. You secretly bought me my first Black Sabbath cassette tape when Mom and Dad forbid me to have it."

He ignores me, angry tears in his eyes while he continues to fidget with the velvet box in his hand. I start the car and drive us to my place. I am too tired and frustrated to drive any more than that.

*****

"[y/n], do you have any idea how worried we were?" my father yells angrily, Mom agreeing. "You stay out all night, and your cousin has to pick you up from a trailer park."

I sigh, pressing my palms onto the cold kitchen table. "Come on. He was drunk as hell. I had to drive him and his friends home. You can barely say he picked me up."

Jason had used the hurt he felt from losing Chrissy and our talk in the car to unload all his paranoia of the night on my parents, then went to bed in our guest bedroom, leaving me to pick up the mess.

"Still, your behavior-" I interrupt my Dad, "I know. I made a mistake, and I am sorry. Can I now please go to my room?"

"No. I don't want you to see that boy anymore." "What?" I ask loudly.

"This Munson kid has caused enough harm. I will be damned if I let you end up like Chrissy Cunningham," Dad yells determent, making me shake my head.

"Eddie had nothing to do with Chrissy's death."

"We don't know that for sure," Mom says, trying to be the calm voice of reason as my father becomes angrier by the second.

"Yes, we do," I argue. "Jason has been spinning out of control for months now. Why isn't anybody in this fucking town questioning his bullshit accusations?"

Mom hands my father his coffee, and he takes it to the living room. Simply leaving the discussion like he always does. Then she sits down beside me, trying to hold my hand.

"People wouldn't find it so easy to believe if the Munson boy hadn't given them so many reasons to."

I let out a sarcastic laugh, then scoff, "Funny, 'cause when people tried to – very rightfully so – suspect that our family's wealth comes from decades of slavery and human trafficking, you both told me that foolish people are willing to believe everything just to run their mouths."

"[y/n]..."

I shake my head, so angry at my family's hypocrisy, "You're not treating Eddie fair. You're judging him and his character through his upbringing, social status, and nonsensical rumors from an unstable family member."

"Hun, I know you like that boy, and dating a bad boy sounds exciting for girls your age – I know, I've been there – But boys like that have the power of ruining your life."

"You don't know him, Mom," I tell her, tears in my eyes. The Upside Down had thoroughly messed up my relationship with my family. "When the earthquake hit Hawkins, I was with Eddie and our friends. If he hadn't been there, I would be dead now. He saved me."

Mom looks at me, shocked. I've refused to talk about the accident until now since I still haven't thought out a perfect lie. I see the pain in my mother's eyes, I know she loves me, and after so many died due to the earthquake, it terrifies her that I could've been one of them.

"Mom, Eddie's a little weird, sometimes completely bonkers, loud, and obnoxious, but he is neither dangerous nor bad for me."

She presses her lips together, trying not to mess up her perfectly applied lipstick. Then she nods. "Go to bed. We'll talk once you have had some sleep."

I go to my room, locking the door behind me. Dressing in some fresh underwear and an oversized band t-shirt my mother hates, I lay down on my bed.

It's already light outside, soon, my dad will go to work, and my mom will pop some uppers and drive around town, spending some money on things we don't need and thinking about what to serve for dinner.

I wonder if I would've ever noticed how dysfunctional our family is, even with all our money, wouldn't I've gotten involved with Will's vanishing?

Would I've ever known how much more important my happiness is than following my family's plans and traditions?

Knocking on my bedroom window pulls me from my thoughts. On the tree branch in front of my window stands Eddie.

"What are you doing here?" I ask as I open it, letting him in.

"I wanted to see if you're okay... And I brought your guitar," he smiles, turning the strep across his chest and putting Honey into my view. I'd forgotten the guitar in my hurry.

"I'm sorry, [y/n]. He grabbed you really hard. I- I should've defended you," Eddie says, hands running up and down my arm, causing goosebumps to appear.

"Jason was drunk and with his friends. They were only looking for a reason to hurt you," I tell him as he hands me the guitar, and I place it on the floor next to my vanity.

I turn on some music, not too loud to annoy anybody, but loud enough to hide that I wasn't alone. Eddie, meanwhile, starts snooping around, almost reminding me of a puppy being in its new home for the first time.

"Now that's a preppy room. I've never seen a preppy room, but this one..." he chuckles, his big button eyes filled with amusement. "I know. Mom decorated it."

He looks further around while I sit down on my bed. As he opens my closet door, a poster of Eddie Van Halen has him crack up before he goes on a deep dive to see all the things I hide in there from my parents.

"Now, that's more like you," Eddie exclaims, pulling out my old working uniform. "You know, I always walked by Scoops Ahoy when I was at the mall... Always hoped to see you."

With butterflies in my stomach, I watch him hang the uniform back into the closet. "I saw you walking by a couple of times. Why didn't you talk to me?"

He shrugs, walking to the end of my bed. "I chickened out. I mean, would you've actually talked to Eddie 'The Freak' Munson, or would you've called for Harrington to protect you?"

"I would've loved having you talk to me," I assure him, and he begins to grin. "Careful; I might start believing you had a crush on me, Sweetheart."

I crawl to the end of my bed, pulling Eddie down by his jacket. His grin becomes bigger before his lips press down on mine. I shuffle back to my pillows, pushing his jacket over his shoulder and throwing it aside. We kiss again as he makes himself comfortable between my legs.

Eddie breaks the kiss, whispering, "I need to leave before your parents come in and find us like that."

His knuckles brush over my cheeks, a soft smile on his lips, and I realize that I don't want him to leave—the quite opposite, actually. I want him to be even closer to me.

"My door's locked," I tell him with a cheeky grin. "They think I'm sleeping."

His softness quickly begins harboring an aura of mischief. "Naughty little thing," he whispers, pressing his lips against mine.

The kiss becomes rough and demanding as Eddie growls into it, starting to explore my mouth with his tongue. After hours of doing nothing else last night, his hands on my body and lips on my own feel natural. My fingers glide into his curly mane while I start rocking my hips against him, searching for friction.

An excited whimper leaves me, and I reach for his belt. "N-No, Sweetheart," Eddie stops me gently. "We have no condoms."

"Pill," I exclaim, needier than planned. "I'm on the pill." He raises his brows for a second, and I add, "I started taking it as part of a feminism phase Robin and I had."

Eddie props himself up, looking at me, insecure. "And you're sure you actually want that? I'm not really the upper-class jock your parents want for you."

I'm looking up at this intimidatingly looking metalhead, smiling. Looks can be so deceiving. "I know, and I like you better that way," I tell him, watching his self-doubt melt away and replace with a contented smile.

Pulling his shirt over his head, he tosses it somewhere in my room. I goggle at his naked chest, the tattoos, the scars, the happy trail. I'm close to tears, and I don't know why; my body feels like I'm being lit on fire; all I can think of is how badly I want him.

"I want you," I whine, hips moving up against nothing. "Please..."

Eddie leans down, pecking my lips for a moment, "I know, baby. I want you too." As he moves back up, he grabs the hem of my shirt, waiting. I lift my back enough so he can take it off me. He tosses it over his shoulder, eyes locking with my breasts.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath, eyes wandering across the room for a moment. As he looks at me again, he licks his lips. "You're so beautiful."

He drops onto his elbows, kissing me again. Eddie's hands roam my body; thighs, stomach, breasts; there is no place he doesn't explore. So at one point, his fingers glide over my clothes pussy.

I try to move into his touch. Eddie chuckles, pulling my panties aside and letting his fingers run through my folds. He grunts into the kiss, moving up a little, "Holy fuck, Sweetheart. You're so wet."

I nod, embarrassed, swallowing a loud moaning the second he touches my swollen clit. He shushes me gently, pecking my lips, then moves his fingers to his mouth. They glisten in the morning sun, and as he licks my wetness from them, I become dizzy for a second.

Eddie grins at me, fully aware of the effect he just had on me. He comes closer again, kissing me and letting me taste myself on his tongue. Then he kisses my neck, wandering down and stopping at my breast, gently sucking on my left nipple while playing with my right one.

I struggle to stay quiet, hating the thought of having to wait any longer. "Eddie, please," I whine, hips jolting up and meeting with his clothed erection.

He grabs the waistband of my panties, making me lift my hips to help him remove them. They are quickly thrown aside, my hands on his belt again. This time I'm triumphant; Eddie climbs off the bed, taking off his jeans, underwear, and shoes.

I bite into the pillowy part of my bottom lip as I'm met with the view of his hard, veiny cock, making him chuckle and kiss me playfully all over the face as he climbs back on top of me.

Guiding his cock up and down my pussy, he coats himself with my arousal, using it like a natural lubricant. "Ready?" he asks, and I nod, grinning excitedly.

Lining up with me, he pushes in slowly until he fully bottoms out inside me. My eyes press shut, and a whimper leaves my lips at the stinging. My nails dig into the skin of his upper arms. Eddie doesn't move anymore, giving me time to get used to the new, stretching sensation.

"Doing so good, baby," he whispers, kissing my cheek, the corner of my lips, and then me fully. I melt into his gentle touches, hands stroking up and down my sides.

"So beautiful," he grins. "And all mine." I nod. "All yours."

Eddie begins to move, making me feel so full, that I think I'm about to break in two, but instead, every thrust of his makes me feel alive.

I want more, figuring out how to meet his thrusts, moving against him. Our breathing becomes louder, moans and praises are spoken with hushed voices.

Eddie doesn't pick up the speed, my bed already threatening to give us away. Instead, he becomes harsher, administrating long and deep thrusts that make my eyes roll into the back of my head.

I moan loudly, arching my back. In an instant, his hand covers my mouth. "We need to be quiet, baby," he reminds me quietly but doesn't stop pounding into me for even a second.

I moan into his palm, holding onto his wrist, so his hand doesn't move from my mouth. "I know. I know, don't worry. I'll make sure they don't hear you," he promises with a low grunt as he rolls his hips into mine.

Our eyes lock, his gaze full of lust and admiration. Sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead. His thrust become more demanding, and I hear my own wetness every time he rocks against me.

As control seems to escape us, Eddie's deep, husky moans become louder. The secrecy of having raw sex that I was taught would get me to hell before marriage feels so filthy, yet it is heaven.

My nails dig into the flesh of his back, and his lips press kisses against my shoulder and collarbone, occasionally biting into it. Tightening around Eddie, I  am on the edge of my orgasm.

"Fuck," he moans. Our eyes meet again, his hand still over my mouth. I lift my hand as he curses again, clasping it over his mouth.

His hips stagger at this before a moan vibrates in my palm. I come right then. I fall apart into millions of pieces and am put back together a new person—a free one that doesn't care about any social status anymore.

If this is wrong, if this is sin, I want to be amiss for the rest of my life.

A deep growl is muffled in my palm as Eddie comes, both of us silencing the other's moans as we ride out our high.

As his hips still, our hands retreat. Stupid, exhausted grins on our lips; he kisses me and pulls out. I whimper at the sudden emptiness, having him chuckle and lie beside me.

Eddie pulls me into a tight embrace, and we just lay there, wrapped around each other for a few minutes, listening to nothing but our breathing.

My head rests on his chest, fingers circling his tattoos and dark pink scars. We're both sweaty, but neither of us cares. This moment is perfect.

"[y/n]?" Eddie whispers into the silence, hand locked around my waist to ensure I stay put.

"Hm?" I hum, looking up at him. "Your parents want you to stay away from me, right?" He asks, insecurity, sighing deeply as I nod. "Figured."

"Eddie..." I whisper as he sits up, grabbing his boxers. He shakes his head, pulling them up. "No, they're right. You'll find better, deserve better."

I stop the curly-headed metalhead before he can dress any further. Hand on his arm, I lean close. "Don't say that. I- It's only until we're graduating. Once I get my money, I'll move out, and we can be together... If you still want that."

He looks at me for a second, then whispers, "Your family will be furious with you." I nod. "Yeah, but they'll calm down once they see how happy I am... I hope."

I don't have much faith in it, but I refuse to live the miserable life my parents approve of. Eddie's tongue swipes over his lips while he is thinking; I can visibly see the cogs turn behind his chocolate eyes.

"So, that would make one month where I don't get to hold, kiss, or even talk to you," he says emotionless.

"Is that okay?" I ask, unsure. We are rushing; the decisions are way too extreme for the little time we spent like this.

But like I said, Vecna could return at any moment. We could die faster than we seem to be rushing. I have to go all in and live.

Eddie turns to me, the knuckles of his ringed fingers brushing offer my cheek. "Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens," he hums a familiar quote, proving him to be a soft nerd under all his leather and chains.

"I have been head over heels for you since I was seventeen, and until everyone thought I was a murderer, I never even dared to look at you for too long. I can handle loving you from afar for a month."

My heart skips a beat as I echo, "Loving me?"

Pressing a kiss on my lips, he chuckled, "Seriously, if you haven't picked up on that by now, you're the one who needs a tutor."

He pushes me back into the pillows, climbing on top of me. Insecure all my life, I absolutely don't mind being completely naked in front of Eddie. He makes me feel safe and like it doesn't matter what I look like.

"Shit," I cuss, remembering his test. "How are we going to study for your test?" Kissing the tip of my nose, he smiles, "We don't. I can handle my studying, [y/n]. I'm a big boy. You just keep practicing with Honey, so I can have a jam session with my girlfriend soon, okay?"

Girlfriend. I am Eddie 'The Freak' Munson's girlfriend.

My life has been full of titles until now, the cheerleader, teacher's pet, Jason Carver's cousin, golden child, tutor, babysitter... But this is the first one that I feel proud of, the first one that feels authentic.

➤ Here is Part 2: Girlfriend

[mrsjellymunson]

The Biology Tutor

📕 Lesson 1: Female Anatomy

Series masterlist

Continue studying: Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills | Extra Credits 02: French | Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Pairing: Virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Summary: Eddie’s failing class, so you decide to offer two different styles of biology tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

W/C: something around 4k (I didn’t do a word count after editing, sorry)

CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI!, NSFW, PWP, smut with a story. Exhibitionism (f), mutual masturbation (m+f), swearing, innuendo, pet names, slight sub/dom dynamic, subtle size kink? Both Reader & Eddie are overage. No y/n. Reader’s appearance is not described, it can be whatever you like.

A/N: A cute little bit of biology lesson-based smut. I’m a sucker for virgin!Eddie and wanted to see if I could write him. Let me know how I did! 😄

My masterlist

You’ve had a crush on the guy in your Biology class since the beginning of the year when you first saw him ranting on a table in the cafeteria. There’s something about him that’s so different from the guys you’d usually go for. You run in completely different social circles, you with the academically-gifted ‘Brainy Bunch’ (an eye-rollingly terrible moniker coined by the we-think-we’re-so-clever jocks), and him with his nerdy friends. Despite this you find him unusual and intriguing, not to mention hot as all hell. You guess the ‘freak metalhead’ look doesn’t work for everyone, but his long hair and rebellious dark ink are certainly doing it for you. You really want to discover what’s underneath those layers of denim, leather and torn shirts, your imagination only able to go so far as you ponder his form late at night in your bed.

However, girls talk, and you’ve never heard of him being with any of them, or even speaking to all that many. For all his bravado and apparent confidence, you’re reasonably certain that Eddie Munson is still a virgin.

And for some reason this draws you to him even more.

You’re pretty sure you’ve caught Eddie checking out your ass as it’s perched on a high stool while he sits behind you in the biology lab. On days when you’re in this class you’ve started to wear your tightest jeans, and your shortest skirts (though if anyone asked you’d insist it was a coincidence).

Somehow you’ve become inexplicably clumsy (but only in this class, how odd…), often dropping your pencil and having to bend over to pick it up, occasionally chewing on the end in contemplation when you know he’s watching, much to the chagrin of your teacher.

“Never put anything in your mouth in the lab, you should all know better by now.”

You smirk at the innuendo in Eddie’s direction and he quickly looks away, ears exposed by his lab-regulation tied-back hair a little pink at the tips.

You also often ‘forget’ or ‘lose’ equipment, asking him if he’s got a spare, or could he please get you a replacement from the cupboards, which he’s always more than willing to do (giving you ample opportunities to observe his denim-clad ass as he does so).

“Damn, I seem to be one test tube short. Eddie, would you be a doll and get me one from the cupboard?”, crossing your legs and subtly ensuring the hem of your skirt rides up just a little more.

Eddie looks you up and down (result!) and agrees.

“Thanks, you really are my knight in shiny, um, leather?” You wince slightly at your clumsy comment, but he takes it in his stride, continuing the bit by replying,

“Here you go, your majesty”, bowing theatrically and presenting the glassware to you atop his forearm, making you grin.

In another lesson: “Shit, I tore my filter. Eddie, do you have a spare?”

“Anything for the Princess of Biology.”

He gives you a little smirk, and you feel your cheeks heat slightly. You can’t help gazing at his strong, ring-clad hands as he hands you the little circle of absorbent paper.

It becomes somewhat of a game, you playing the Princess and he the rescuing knight.

But for all your teasing you genuinely do actually want to help him pass the class. You don’t want him to have to repeat the year - you’ve seen him play at The Hideout and you know he’s meant for greater things.

It’s just biology, it can’t be any harder than what little you’ve picked up about that complicated game he plays, which seems to be all numbers, convoluted plots and organising “campaigns”, whatever they are. You’re sure he could pass if he’d just apply himself.

Or, perhaps, he just needs the right tutor…?

You’d broached it with your science teacher, offering to help ‘any students who were behind’ for extra credits. After he’d agreed you’d approached Eddie that same day, offering to come to his home and help him with his overdue assignments.

He was confused and skeptical at first, thinking this could all be some elaborate prank, but you were gentle and persuasive, and he’d agreed to pick you up later that day.

You’re sitting on his worn-out sofa, draped with a well loved but soft blanket. You’ve spent the last hour trying to get Eddie to understand cellular respiration (“Isn’t it just, like, breathing in and out?” “No, Eddie, this is cell biochemistry, it’s a bit more complicated than that”), but nothing you attempt seems to be working.

He’s despondent, won’t look at you, and seems resigned to his fate of never passing this particular subject, interjecting with statements like,

“Look, it’s just not going in.”

“I don’t know how to make it stick.”

“I don’t think I’ll get it, Princess, even if you beat it into me.”

The innuendo (accidental or not) is driving you crazy. As is Eddie’s lack of self belief.

You’d even tried explaining it by using D&D analogies.

“Think of the chemical reactions like individual characters interacting in groups. Like, if this particular troupe disband and some make allegiances with another, the group has different skills and attributes now, right?” But after a promising start even that doesn’t seem to hold his attention.

In fact, the more animated you get and closer you sit, the more distracted and fidgety he becomes, unwilling to engage fully with you and shifting uncomfortably.

You move further towards him on the sofa, determined to give it one last shot, and force him to make eye contact with you.

Their colour and depth surprises you as you look into them properly for the first time, noticing their rich, swirling chocolate and whiskey hues.

Your eyes briefly drop to his lips, the soft pink, plump, velvety pillows looking mightily enticing. God, they’re perfect.

Goosebumps rise on your arm as you feel his surprisingly soft curls tickle your shoulder.

Okay, you knew he was cute, but up close? Fucking hell…

You lean across your notes and over to the text book that’s on his other side. Your thighs are touching, and as you twist the side of your breast makes contact with his arm. If he looked slightly down and towards you he’d be able to see right down the neck of your tank top. You kind of hope he does.

Huffing, you prod at the book with your hand, hoping that the diagram on the page might make everything clearer. The movement makes your boobs jiggle a little.

You hadn’t noticed he’d stopped breathing and he suddenly lets out a huff of breath, covering it with a badly faked cough. His cheeks have flushed a light shade of pink.

So, you definitely weren’t imagining all that stuff in class.

Fuck it. You consider this might be the only opportunity you might get to do this, so decide to grab it. After all, academic tutelage was only part of your motivation to get him alone, and something you’ve been thinking about for a long time, one of the fantasies that keeps you up at night, pops into your head. One that would definitely get his attention. And if you can’t help his confidence academically, perhaps you can help with it somewhere else. Call it interpersonal tutelage…?

With as much nonchalance as you can muster, you say, “Um, maybe we should take a break. Y’know, relax a little?”

You scootch away to the end of the sofa, putting your back against the armrest and bringing your feet up onto the cushion in front of you. You grab a couple of throw cushions and slot them behind you, getting comfortable.

Eddie seems to relax a little too once you’ve moved away, but still looks uneasy.

God, are you really going to do this? What if he screams and runs away, or worse, tells his friends, or your classmates..? No, you’ve been thinking about this for far too long. Oh, fuck it x 2…

Feigning a stretch, you arch your back and place your hands at the back of your waist, pushing your chest, and breasts, upwards. Then you move them to the sides of your ribs, glancing over the sides of your boobs, seemingly-innocently pushing them together. You move a hand underneath one of your breasts, cupping it gently in the crook of your thumb and forefinger.

Eddie is still sitting tensely on the front edge of the sofa cushions, stealing sideways glances at you through the curtain of his hair.

“C’mon, Eddie, get comfy with me. It’ll help, I promise.”

Self-consciously, Eddie shifts himself and sits facing you, cross-legged, at the other end of the sofa. You give him a soft smile, which he returns with a slightly bashful one of his own, afterwards rolling his lips inwards between his teeth.

Okay, it’s now or never. Are you gonna be able to concentrate on this, Eddie?

You hum quietly, and almost closing your eyes you run a palm down your chest and over your belly. You drop one knee slightly out to the side, and run your hand down the inside of your thigh and back up it, eventually pushing your fingers between your thighs and cupping your mound with your palm.

You see Eddie’s eyes widen and hear a stifled choke.

Your hand moves to fully cup your breast, and you lightly trace your thumb over your hardening nipple whilst the hand between your legs begins to apply gentle pressure, making you inhale deeply.

Eddie watches you, agape, bringing his hands together and clasping one hand over the other in front of him, you surmise to disguise his burgeoning bulge.

You open your eyes a little, keeping them soft and half lidded, and gently smile in Eddie’s direction, ensuring he’s still watching you.

Using both hands to pop the button and lower the zipper on your jeans, you tease yourself by running the pretty elastic trim of your your panties between your fingertips, pulling it slightly away from you and letting it snap back onto your abdomen.

“Uh…”, he swallows hard, and you internally groan at the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing in that delicious neck, “What’re you doing..?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Eddie? I’m… relaxing…”

Sighing out the last word, you choose this moment to slip your hand down the front of your underwear, sliding over your mound and dipping just the tip of one finger between your folds, feeling the wetness that’s already pooled there. Your forehead furrows a little and you let out a quiet, contented hum.

Eddie’s eyes widen further and his eyebrows disappear completely under his bangs, and he sounds a little like he’s suffocating.

He tries to move further away from you along the sofa, unsuccessfully however as he’s wedged against the other armrest.

“Uh, I can, y’know, leave, or you could use my room, or, I can take you home, or, or-”

He’s babbling, and looking everywhere but at you. That’s not what you want at all, and you’re also concerned that he looks so uncomfortable.

“I can stop, if you want…”

He rushes out a reply, almost shouting the first syllable.

“N-NO! Um, no, it’s okay, really.”

“Okay, Eddie, stay right there. Keep your eyes on me, I wanna give you a show.”

He looks even more shocked, jaw dropping open, and you think he might bolt. But after a moment it’s clear that despite being full of anxiety, fear and self-consciousness, his curiosity, hormones and horniness are winning out, and he fixes his gaze on you.

He manages to squeak out, “Ok-aay…”

You lift your hips, using both hands to push your jeans and underwear down your legs until they reach your ankles. You slowly splay your knees, finally exposing yourself fully to Eddie’s gaze. One hand comes back to your breast, and you pinch your fabric-covered nipple between your thumb and forefinger.

He takes in the sight before him, the soft fur around your core, your wet folds glistening in the dim light of his living room, your sultry gaze, the peaks of your hardened nipples now visible through the thin fabric of your top.

He lets out a stuttering breath as his hips involuntarily shift underneath him, trying to find some friction.

“Jeezus fuck, Princess, are you tryin’a kill me?”

You try to think of something that might help relax him.

“If it helps you can imagine that we’re still studying. How about a quick lesson in female anatomy..?”

You move your hand down and with featherlight touches trace your fingertips around your pussy.

“Now, this whole area is my vulva.”

Eddie gulps.

Making a vertical line you trace your fingers over your wet lips.

“These are my labia.”

Eddie’s lips press together and he lets out a stammering hum, closing his eyes momentarily before snapping them back open so he doesn’t miss a thing.

“Are you paying attention, Eddie? This part is really important. This-,” you inhale sharply as you trail your wet fingers upwards and make contact, “This is where you’ll find my clit- fuck-”

It feels so delicious you almost don’t manage to finish your sentence, and you let out a long, low hum. Part of you doesn’t want to stop, but you’ve got more planned. Moving your fingers down again, you say,

“And this, here? This is my vagina…”

With a smile, you watch him stare as you dip a fingertip into your sopping hole, letting out a low moan as you gradually slip it inside of you.

“You know what the g-spot is, Eddie? I can show you where to find it, if you want me to…?”

You slide your finger in further, curling it towards your front wall, almost managing to tickle that certain spot within and letting out a loud groan.

At the other end of the sofa Eddie gasps an inhale, whimpering slightly, and you see him press the heel of his hand into his crotch. The combination of his sounds and actions is making you impossibly wetter - the boys you’ve been with before didn’t do much of either, and you didn’t know how much it turned you on.

You watch his face as he stares intently at your weeping centre as you slowly, so slowly move your finger in and out a few times.

“D’you think you’ll remember that, Eddie?”

“I promise I’ll fuckin’ try, Jesus Christ…”

He swallows again, exhaling heavily.

Deciding it’s time for the main event, you bring the hand that was squeezing your breast down your body, moving your fingertips to your clit and applying gentle pressure.

“I want you to see how wet you make me, Eddie. I want you to know how much I enjoy you watching my ass in biology class, how often I’ve thought about it when I’m alone. How much I like checking yours out in those oh-so tight jean- oh!”

A particularly exquisite circle followed by a firm press on your clit makes you moan out loud. The combination of both your hands has you close, closer than you imagined you’d be at this stage. It takes much longer when you’re by yourself, and you’re surprised and excited by just how much you’re enjoying having Eddie watch you.

Eddie’s fully gripping himself through his jeans now and is breathing heavily through his nose. He looks big, and you salivate at the thought.

You really want to see what he’s been hiding inside that tight denim.

“Show me, Eddie, I wanna see you.”

Hesitantly, never having experienced anything even close to this before, Eddie mumbles,

“You, uh…?”

“I wanna see you. Take out your cock. Let me see all of you, please.”

He’s rubbing himself, and you can see how strained his jeans are, a wet stain now visible in the dark fabric.

Slowly, eyes never leaving your face and looking for any tiny indication that you’re uncomfortable or have changed your mind, he slowly undoes his button and pulls down his zipper.

His languid pace is killing you, but in a good way; you realise he most likely has no idea what this is doing to you.

He rearranges the front of his jeans, opening the fly wide and leaving nothing but a thin layer of checkered cotton covering his member. The tent it’s creating is impressive.

He watches you stare and run your wet tongue over your bottom lip.

Letting out a nervous breath between pursed lips, he pushes one hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, using his thumb and two fingers to hold his cock at the base. Using his other hand he slowly, agonisingly slowly, pulls the fabric out and downwards, gradually exposing his full member to the lights of the room and to you.

You pause your own movements and spend a moment taking it in. It’s long, with an impressive girth - you briefly wonder whether he knows what he’s packing - and it’s the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen. Lengthy, veined, slightly curved, and thick, so thick.

Eddie watches your expression for a moment. Satisfied that you’re not freaked or about to run away screaming, he brings the rest of his fingers to join the others, wrapping himself fully in his fist and squeezing gently, causing a little bead of precum to collect on the tip.

You take in the sight before you for a few moments, then utter, completely honestly, “Eddie, in case no one’s ever told you this, you have a really beautiful dick.”

His face and neck turn the second-prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen.

“No one’s ever told me that before, Princess.” Adding, almost in a whisper, “In fact, no one’s ever seen it.”

He chuckles lightly through that last sentence, embarrassed at what he’s just admitted. The ego boost of your comments has clearly given him some confidence though, as he adds with a slight smirk, a little breathy as he runs the pad of his thumb unhurriedly over his tip, “You, uh, really think so?”

Oh, so he likes me watching him too?

You can’t take your eyes off of it.

“I really do, Eddie. It’s so pretty.”

As if to confirm your statement you resume your hand movements, adding another finger and resuming circling your clit with the other. You notice that Eddie’s started moving too, his hand moving over himself in a deft gripping and twisting motion, his hips bucking up every now and again.

For a few moments neither of you say anything, the only sounds in the room your combined panting breaths and the lewd movements of wet skin.

Your clit is swollen and supremely sensitive, and, pushing in a little further, your fingers just tickle that exquisite spot within you.

You moan as you imagine it’s Eddie’s pretty cock inside you. That he’s leaning over you, thrusting into you, hitting that spot effortlessly. Maybe even talking to you, telling you how good your pussy feels, how well you’re taking him…

Suddenly your eyes roll back in your head and your mouth hangs open, a gutteral moan emerging from your chest as you get closer and closer.

Bringing your attention back to him you mumble, hurriedly,

“Jeezus Eddie, I’m gonna cum, you wanna see me cum?”

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire fucking life.”

Eddie’s words come out in a spluttering rush and on his last word your breathing halts, your muscles lock and you cum, hard, clenching around your fingers and letting out an involuntary strangled scream.

Somewhere in the back of your fuzzy mind you think you hear Eddie let out a loud, “Holy shhhiiiit!”

You come down a little, opening your eyes and locking them with Eddie’s. You ride out your aftershocks, humming as you feel your fingers inside of you and your juices running down them. You eventually remove your fingers from your cunt, leaving its puffy wetness fully on display, and trace them around your lips and clit.

“F-fuck, Princess, that’s the hottest goddamn thing I’ve ever fuckin’ seen…”

Eddie’s red-faced and panting, his cock still very much standing to attention in his now vice-like grip, the tip an angry red and leaking copious amounts of precum. His eyes are blown dark, the chocolate rims almost completely obscured. His face and neck are flushed and he’s covered in a sheen of sweat, and he’s clenching his jaw, looking like he’s trying desperately not to bust.

“Are you ok over there, Eddie?”

“Shit, yeah, yes, I mean, fuck.”

Breathily, you ask him,

“Do you wanna cum?”

“Fuck yes, I just, I didn’t know whether you wanted me to.”

“Oh I do Eddie, I really do. It’s your turn now. You gonna cum for me? Please, let me see you lose it, show me everything you’ve got.”

He breathes out a loud sigh in what seems like relief. You like how good he’s being for you, learning yet more about yourself that you didn’t know before.

His fist speeds up as his other hand comes to hold his balls, deftly stroking and rolling the flesh. His brow furrows deeply and his lips clamp shut around a low moan. He’s staring intently at you, eyes flicking between your face and your still-dripping cunt.

Suddenly his expression turns to one resembling surprise, as his eyebrows lift and his mouth opens, a string of expletives leaving those perfect, plump lips,

“Fuck, fuck, Jeezus, motherf-, oh my-, fuckfuckfuuuck!”

His jaw drops as his abdomen contracts, and his eyes fix on your cunt as he jets hot ropes of white cum into the air and over his fist and t-shirt. There’s so much, and it seems never ending.

The sight is even better than you’d imagined it might be and your hips buck up into your hand, making you press your fingers into your clit again triggering another aftershock, and you find yourself moaning along with him.

For a few moments there’s more silence, aside from your panting and heavy breathing.

Eventually Eddie chuckles a little, and you huff a breath out through your nose with a smile on your face.

You’re both a sweaty, sticky mess, but neither of you care.

“Fuck, Eddie, that was…” You’re lost for words.

“Amazing? Incredible?” Seeing the grin plastered across Eddie’s face is easily as gratifying as all the other stuff you’ve done tonight.

You both giggle as Eddie says, “Fuck me, Princess, you’re definitely the best tutor I’ve ever had.”

Neither of you really want to move, but some cleanup is definitely necessary. Eddie takes the blanket from the sofa and throws it in the washer, cleaning up quickly in the bathroom, letting you know when it’s free and returning in a change of clothes, throwing the others in with the blanket.

As you both process what’s just transpired you share timid glances and half smiles.

You both sit on the sofa again as you start to pack up your notes and books. In another unforeseen realisation, you’re surprised at how much you’ve enjoyed Eddie’s company, and the warm feeling you get inside every time he looks at you is entirely unexpected.

You realise you’re gonna have to be the one to say something, and give Eddie a smirk.

“So, how about next time we do some practical revision on, maybe, male anatomy?”

He looks a little surprised, but certainly not unhappy at the suggestion that there might actually be a ‘next time’.

“You really wanna, uh, tutor me again?”

Nodding in the affirmative, you reply, “Oh yeah, I think we’ve both learned a lot this afternoon.”

Holding his gaze, you suggest,

“Same time next week..?”

Lesson 2: Male anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills | Extra Credits 02: French | Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Series masterlist

Thanks so much for reading! 🙏🥰

A/N 2: This has become a miniseries, let me know if you’d like to be on the taglist, and/or my general one 😉

Likes are great, but please also consider supporting writers with comments and reblogs - they help fics get seen, and it genuinely means the world! 🌍 ❤️

My masterlist

[cahrlotah]

𝐄𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬

!IF YOU ARE A MINOR DNI! THIS POST CONTAINS ADULT CONTENT!

Trigger warnings: literally fucking in a holy place, swearing, praising, use of female anatomy, blasphemies, corruption kink (?), slight dom!Eddie, oral male receiving, fingering, penetration, dirty/mean talking, sub!reader, 

Pairing: Eddie x pastor daughter!reader (fem) 

Word count: 1.2K

My requests are open!

It is Sunday morning, everyone in my house is getting ready to go to church. Everything needs to be perfect, our hairs perfectly combed, our clothes perfectly ironed, the perfect cookie cutter family per say. 

Last night I got home late from Eddie’s “tutoring” and as a result I slept in, my body not being able to get out of bed and the memories of the previous night replaying on my head like a movie. I know I should feel ashamed for what happened, breaking the promise I had made with my dad and God, but something about it just felt right. 

I get ready quickly and rush downstairs to meet up with my parents for breakfast. 

“Good morning, sleepy head” my dad says as he places a glass of juice in front of me alongside some toasts and a kiss on my head. Breakfast is rushed as we need to be in church twenty minutes before the sermon starts. It is sunny outside, you can tell summer is approaching. 

The service goes well, and all day is spent at church, between helping dad with his duties to helping mum and her friends at the kitchen preparing meals for the less fortunate people of Hawkins. 

At 9:45pm no one is left, only me cleaning after all the day's events, when suddenly I hear the main door open. 

“ Sorry, but it is clo-” I don’t even finish the sentence when I realize who it is. “ I never thought I would see Eddie Munson in a church. What are you doing here?” I ask playfully, if you had told me a few weeks ago I would be friendly to the school’s freak I would have laughed at you, but here I am, only wishing I could spend all  the time in the world curled up in his arms.  

“ Hi there gorgeous” he says, placing a kiss on my lips, “ just wanted to see you.” his arms around my waist that forces me to come closer to me, allowing me to see my purity ring hanging around his neck. 

“I wanted to see you too.” I place a small kiss on his lips but one of his hands goes behind my head forcing the kiss to deepen. 

I don’t even know how it happened but we ended up making out in one of the church benches where hours before the residents of Hawkins were praying their sins away. Eddie is sitting while I’m on top of him, his hands under my blouse. Things are getting heated pretty quickly.

“ For fucks sake, I always wanted to fuck in a church” he whispers, his little voice echoing. “How hot are those moans of yours going to sound. Fuck, just making me hard thinking about it.” his hands on my boobs, I can help but to let out a moan as the cold metal of his rings touches my skin. “Just like that sunshine”. 

Something inside of me knows that I shouldn't be doing this but the adrenaline of knowing we could be seen or heard at any moment has more power over me than the fear of disappointing my parents and what people will think of me. 

He breaks the kiss, we both stand up and he grabs my hand and guides me to a corner where a picture of virgin Mary hangs.

“I want you to get on your knees for me, just like when you pray, okay?” he asks, but in a demanding tone, while his hand rests on my cheek. I just simply nod, obeying on what he requests. “Such a good girl for me. Now,” he looks straight into my eyes, “ I want you to look at Her, good old Virgin Mary, while you suck me off.” He pulls his pants down, letting his member free, I don’t waste any time and put it in my mouth moving my gaze from his to the picture of the woman hanging from the wall. The moment my mouth touches him, he lets out a loud moan, filling the church with that lovely sound. His hands travel all the way to the back of my head, Eddie grabs my hair slowly guiding my face at the pace he wants, I don’t look away from Mary, just as he ordered me to. “So obedient for me,” he kneels down, “did you ask her for forgiveness as you were sucking me off?” Words cannot come out of my mouth, the way he is saying these dirty words in a place like this turns me on.

Eddie guides me towards the communion table, he makes me sit on the edge, spreading my legs, his lips are on mine again, his hands slowly making their way up gripping on my inner thigh. 

“Eddie” I whisper, he looks at me with those dovey eyes of his. “If we are going to do this here, I need you to do it now.” After I say this, a big smile appears on his face.

“Whatever my lady requests” and just like that his fingers are inside me, provoking me to moan loudly, making the sound echo throughout the building. His fingers move at the same rhythm that we kiss. Moans escaping my mouth as his movements become faster, his thumb is on my clit, moving in circles. 

“Holy fuck Eddie just like that” I scream, throwing my head back.

His fingers slide out of me, he gives me some time to recover, but not much as he teases the tip of his cock on my entrance. 

“You want me inside of you, don’t you little slut.” I nod. He grabs my face with one hand squishing my cheeks. “Always acting like this fucking prude girl, but here you are in this holy palce, looking like a mess for me. Begging me to fuck you like the whore that you are” he enters me without any warning. And just like before our moans echo all around church. Something so dirty happening in a place so pure, under the eyes of God. 

Eddie’s pounds become harder and harder, just like his words become dirtier and dirtier as more of a mess I am for him. I lay on the table, my back arched while Eddie’s hands grip on my hips as hard as he can, his rings, most likely leaving marks on my flesh. I stand up, now sitting, my legs wrapped around him while my arms are around his neck.

“Eddie, I think I might come soon” I moan into his ear, feeling a tightening feeling in my abdomen. He looks at me, right into my eyes and with a smirk on his face says

“Do it, come all over my dick” and just after those nasty words, my head naturally rolls back, my hands grip into his shoulders, my nails biting his skin and the feeling of arousal intoxicating my body. “ You did amazing sweetheart”, he kisses me “Now let’s get you all clean and pretty, we don’t want your Dad to notice all the nasty things you have been doing, right?” he asks in a playful tone. 

“Right” I say kissing him back. 

@eddiesdungeon

[mrsjellymunson]

THE BIOLOGY TUTOR

Series Masterlist

Pairing: virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Series summary: Eddie’s failing class, again, so you decide to offer two different styles of biology tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

🔞 MDNI! Please read the content warnings for each chapter

💗 = fluff ❤️ = mature themes ❤️‍🔥 = smut

Lesson 1: Female Anatomy ❤️❤️‍🔥

Lesson 2: Male Anatomy 💗❤️‍🔥

Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills ❤️❤️‍🔥

Extra Credits 02: French 💗❤️

Independent Study 01: Art ❤️‍🔥

Independent Study 02: Creative Writing ❤️‍🔥

Lesson 3: Human Reproduction ❤️💗❤️‍🔥

Extra Credits 03: Latin 💗❤️‍🔥

Extra Credits 04: Social Studies 💗❤️‍🔥

My masterlist

[mrsjellymunson]

The Biology Tutor

Independent Study 01: Art

Series masterlist

Pairing: virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Series summary: Eddie’s failing Biology class, so you decide to offer two different styles of tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

Chapter summary: Eddie reflects on your most recent study session.

WC: ~1.68k

C/W: 18+, SMUT, MDNI!! I don’t want to give too much away, so I’ll just say that Eddie has some alone time… (If you’ve read the rest of this series you’ll likely not be surprised by any of the content, but if anyone feels strongly that this part needs any specific cautions LMK 💙) No physical descriptions of reader, but she is described as wearing makeup (though this isn’t integral to the story and it’s only one line)

A/N: I know I promised you Lesson 3 was coming soon, but I couldn’t help thinking about how Eddie and reader might feel after their recent tryst in the library, so this extra was born (and you can shout at me about it in the comments if you wish, I would love it ISTG 😂).

As if it wasn’t bad enough already, he muses. Eddie’s been increasingly distracted, and even his Hellfire campaigns are starting to suffer. But ever since that kiss (oh fuck, that kiss) in the library, Eddie absolutely can’t stop thinking about you.

The situation only gets worse when he’s alone, and is compounded further anytime he’s naked.

He’s already jerked off to the thought of you so many times, and he’s certain you knew exactly what you were doing when you brought those (silky, stained) sleep shorts to school for him. (He’s ashamed to admit that he’d spent that morning break under the bleachers with them pressed up against his face, breathing so deeply he almost hyperventilated, and since he got them home they haven’t left his bed.) But he still feels like it’s somehow wrong for him to think about you like this, and he’s sure you’ll see it written all over his face…

This isn’t the first time he’s thought about you whilst he’s in the shower, either. In fact, that started even before you became his tutor - it just took you wearing a particularly short skirt to biology class and it rapidly became a favourite pastime of his.

But today, thanks to your unexpectedly steamy study session in the library, his his cock is already fully hard, standing proudly in front of him within moments of him stepping into the tub, and his mental imagery is especially vivid.

He manages a quick wash before the throbbing between his legs demands his full attention, and his thoughts inevitably turn back to you.

Taking his cock lightly in his hand, he imagines kissing you gently, slowly. He remembers how your lips and mouth felt against his, and how your hands crept up his back over his shirt just hours ago. He recalls every movement, every sensation, as if to burn it permanently into his memory. The feel of your lips, how you smelled, how -oh god- how you tasted. He thinks about how gentle and soft your tongue was, and how he can’t get the sensation of it sliding against his out of his mind. It’s jostling for space next to the thoughts of how much he wants to use his own to explore every inch of you, if you’d ever let him.

Then, in his mind, you’re going over more test questions with him, just like you were in the study room. Except now each time he gets a question right, you praise him, stroke his face… and remove an item of clothing.

Eventually your clothing is all gone and you’re kneeling in front of him here in the shower, the warm water cascading over you in sparkling rivulets. Your naked body seems to glow, and your skin has an otherworldly, fantastical iridescence. Your pretty makeup smears and runs, creating delicate streaks of colour down your cheeks. And you’re wearing a shining tiara made of precious metals and sparkling stones.

His Princess.

Your knees are spread, leaving yourself open, and he imagines how you’d feel on his fingers. Soft, warm, wet, waiting.

He suppresses a moan, lest any of his neighbours are passing by. The flimsy walls of these trailers are hardly soundproof.

He curses as he imagines your hands running over his taut quads, your lips kissing them, then your soft, warm tongue tickling up his inner thighs towards his cock.

Eddie strokes his fingers delicately over his sack, imagining it’s you licking him, looking up at him through your wet eyelashes as you promise,

“Let me show you what a clever boy you are, Eddie. How much of a reward you deserve for working that beautiful brain so hard.”

And then you’re running your tongue up the full length of his cock, all the way from base to tip, but this time you’re not using biological terms, not trying to educate him. This time, you’re just filling yourself with him, suckling on his swollen head and sliding your wet mouth down onto him, further, further, until the tip of him is nudging your throat.

He thinks back to the last time you were on his sofa, your last ‘lesson’, how good you looked and felt when you took his cock in your mouth and looked at him as he grasped your hand. How your tongue swirled so devilishly before you nodded so sweetly and let him cum down your throat. How you licked his release from your lips…

He feels his balls tighten and a familiar sensation stirs in his abdomen, but he doesn't want this to be over yet, so he grips and squeezes that part of his dick that he knows will stave off his orgasm, opening his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, focussing on the swirl of the soapy water as it spirals down the drain.

Breathing deep, Eddie allows himself to slowly and elaborately create a new fantasy, this time imagining he’s pressing you up against the tiled wall.

He wonders what your wet skin might feel like against his, and how your tits might feel against his chest, beneath his hands, in his mouth.

He pictures what it’d be like to nudge your feet apart, just a little, and slot his hips between those luscious thighs.

How it’d feel to push through your glorious folds with the tip of his cock, and slide slowly into your warmth and wetness. The thought makes his breath leave his body in a rush, and he has to stifle another moan.

He wonders how pliant you’d be, whether you’d tell him how talented he is, how much you love it when he does this, how good you’re gonna be for him.

He wonders whether he'd be sweet, telling you you’re so beautiful, how he'll always take care of you, and treat you like the princess you are.

Or whether you’d be filthy, spilling profanities as you urge him to fill you deeper, take you faster, go harder.

And whether he’d ever have the balls to talk dirty to you, and tell you how well you take him, how your cunt is so perfect for him, how much he wants you, and adores fucking you.

Dick slick with foaming shower gel, Eddie’s swollen member slides almost effortlessly into his fist. He braces himself on his free forearm, palm flat against the tiles, imagining your body is between him and the cool ceramic, moving you both with each thrust of his hips.

He imagines his warm chest pressed to yours, and how the water feels trickling over and between your writhing forms as it flows over his shoulders, across your tits, over his balls and down between your thighs.

He groans into the steamed up space as he bucks up into his fist, imagining it’s your wet and willing pussy. Would you cum like this? It’s his fantasy, so of course you would… He wonders how it would feel. Would it be like he’s read about, where you’d be tight around him, squeezing his length as you rode out your high?

He can almost hear your moans as the head of his cock hits that special spot inside you that - just as you promised the first time you came over - you taught him to find. His ego lets him imagine he’d be skilled, maybe the best you’d had, and he imagines how your voice would eventually crack as you'd breathily tell him, just as you did in the library,

“That’s it, Eddie! You’ve got it!”

All of it combined is enough to tip him over. His hips stutter and his abdomen tenses as he cums with a broken groan, his vision becoming spotty as his wet spend spurts high up the tiles, some of it almost reaching eye level, sticking to the wall in sweeping, dripping splashes and the rest running down over his hand and wrist.

He squeezes himself, milking his cock of every last drop, whispering your name as he leans his forehead against his forearm and rests there, catching his breath. He’s not sure if he’s ever cum that hard by himself, and he certainly never has in the shower.

Vision clearing, he appraises the evidence of his lust. Human art on ceramic canvas.

However, for once it’s not an artistic display of his that he wants anyone else to see. He makes a mental note to clean off the tiles higher up than he normally would, and begins to rinse off under the cooling stream.

Shit. Wayne’s gonna be pissed when he comes home to find he’s used up all the hot water, and he doesn’t even have an excuse.

As he sluices the mess he’s made down the drain and his post-orgasm fog starts to lift, Eddie starts to feel like the deviant perv he’s sure he must be. He also realises how increasingly difficult it’s getting for him to suppress the various feelings he has for you. How the hell is he supposed to face you after this?

Is this that thing he’s heard about? Post Nut Clarity, or something?

Coming down from his high, he wonders what you’re doing right now. Probably hanging with friends, or diligently doing your homework. Something innocent and worthy. Wholesome.

By stark contrast, as he considers the somewhat-uncomfortable, almost-permanent semi he sports when you’re anywhere near him. Or, when he knows you’re in school generally. Or, fuck, simply just whenever he thinks about you. Suddenly he’s grateful for the cooling water, as his dick threatens to get hard again just from the mere thought of seeing you in class, or passing you in a corridor.

But then there’s also… the other feelings. The ones he’s never experienced before. The ones that tell him there’s so much more to this than just ‘having fun whilst tutoring’. At least, there is from his perspective.

Because what if this is just a temporary arrangement, and once he passes biology class you’ll have had your fun and will move on. Maybe even with somebody else?

Or, what if you feel the same?

And honestly? He’s not certain which prospect terrifies him the most…

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked this little extra ❤️

Series masterlist

Prev parts: Lesson 1: Female anatomy Lesson 2: Male anatomy Extra Credits 01: Communication skills Extra Credits 02: French Next part: Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

If you’d like to join the taglist for this series or my general one, just drop me a comment, ask or message letting me know, I’d love to have you on board 💗

Taglist (open): @airen256 @bimbobaggins69 @urlbitchin @jamdoughnutmagician @rustboxstarr @bl4ckt00thgr1n @bexreadstoomuch @cozmiccass @sadlittlesquish @yujyujj @cluz1babe @thunderg @aysheashea @paleidiot @cadence73 @eddie-munsons-wifey @siriuslysmoking @neville-is-my-husband @aestheticaltcow @jjmaybankswifes-blog @lightcommastix @ungracefularchimedes @spenciesprincess @joejoequinnquinn @freshoutthewomb2 @sunshinepeachx @tlclick73 @hellfirenacht @yourdailymemedelivery @wendyxox @madaboutmunson @80s-addict @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @eddiesxangel @bunny7232 @starksbabie @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @abellmunsonmovie @sheneedsrocknroll92 @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @wonderlanddreamer @leatherfaceologist @munson-blurbs @paradisepoisons and because you said you like fantasies @mediocredreams 😉

[mrsjellymunson]

The Biology Tutor | Extra Credits 02

Extra Credits 02: FRENCH

Series masterlist

Prev: Lesson 1: Female Anatomy | Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills Next: Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Pairing: virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Series summary: Eddie’s failing Biology class, so you decide to offer two different styles of tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

Chapter summary: You give Eddie a French lesson.

WC: 2.9k

CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI! This part isn't explicit, but the rest of the series is, so MDNI!! Fluff, kissing, mentions of arousal.

A/N: This takes place between Extra Credit 1 and Lesson 3. It’s an added extra to The Biology Tutor series.

My masterlist

Despite your best efforts to keep things cool, you and Eddie’s relationship at school has shifted.

Eddie will greet you with a cheery, “Heeey, Princess”, whenever you pass in the corridors, and you’ll sometimes give him a cheeky wave in the lunchroom. You both flush a little whenever your eyes lock, thinking about all the intimate stuff you’ve done together over the past days and weeks.

Thankfully, as yet none of your friends have noticed the way you’ve started to giggle a little more loudly at Eddie’s antics on the lunch tables, or the way he shoots you cheeky glances to check that you’re watching. Each of your social groups would likely have something disparaging to say, and you’d prefer to avoid that kind of attention for the time being.

You’ve become even more aware of your physical proximity in Biology class. Even though you could probably reach out and touch each other (and you would really, really like to do that…) you try not to draw too much attention to yourselves.

You’re finding it hard to keep your focus on the front, knowing that Eddie’s sitting inches away behind you. But you revel in the fact that he’s there at all (and is, in all likelihood, checking out your ass).

At the end of class, Mr Clarke calls you over.

“I wanted to thank you for your efforts regarding the private tutoring. Mr Munson’s work has certainly improved since you began, as has his class attendance, which is remarkable in and of itself. And he seems to have become more enthusiastic about the human biology aspect of the syllabus too, which is… unexpected, but really good to see.”

He looks off to one side, momentarily bemused, but recovers quickly and continues,

“Nevertheless, there is a big test coming up which, as you know, makes up a sizable proportion of your grade. I would very much like to see Mr Munson do well. I was hoping that you might help him prepare, and in the hopes that you’d agree, I’ve already booked private study room 2C in the library specifically for this purpose.”

You know the library well, and the one he’s describing is a particularly quiet one, located at the back of the rarely-used reference section. If you can get Eddie to join you, it’ll be the first time you’ve ever been alone with him at school. You experience a frisson of excitement at the thought.

You readily agree, figuring that even if that wasn’t reason enough, getting further in the good graces of Mr Clarke wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. However, you do think convincing Eddie to relinquish his entire lunchtime might be another matter entirely.

You approach him in the lunchroom, managing to get to him before his usual table fills up with nerds. He was initially aghast that you were anywhere near him, but once he realised nobody was really interested he listened to your proposal.

“You seriously do this shit voluntarily?” is his only response, until you mention, more quietly, how it would mean spending an entire hour in a small, isolated room. With you. Alone.

Suddenly, he’s all for it, packing up his stuff as you exit ahead of him. He extols the virtues of ‘accepting with grace the assistance the universe offers you’ to the smattering of confused Hellfire boys before hightailing it out of the hall, stuffing pretzels into his mouth as he goes.

You reach the study room first, and are already setting out books and pencils as Eddie barrels in. He practically skids to a halt, and ambles towards you, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to act nonchalant.

“Hey, Princess.”

He plops his bag onto the tabletop, and as he gestures to the empty seats next to you and across the table, he drops his voice to a lower timbre as he asks you,

“So, uh, where do you want me?”

Thanks to his mildly suggestive question, an image flashes across your mind of perching him, naked, on the edge of the table and climbing atop him, but you quickly shake it.

You tap your hand on the seat next to you, and he enthusiastically flops himself down in it. He sits up straight, clasping his hands in his lap, theatrically attentive.

As he’s already managed to fluster you, you decide to fluster him right back.

“You’re so good at doing what I tell you, Eddie. I like that.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush pink and he swallows hard. It worked.

It doesn't take long for you to go over the test questions. Eddie’s picked up more than he’d thought from the parts of your sessions where you’d actually studied, and he flies through most of it, only getting stuck on a couple of gnarly chemistry formulae. What’s more, he actually looks like he’s having fun, gaining genuine satisfaction from answering your questions correctly and beaming as you let him know,

“That’s it, Eddie! You’ve got it!”

You can’t tell whether it’s the academic achievement, or the broad smiles and encouragement that you’re giving him, that’s his biggest driver, but at this point you’ll take either as a win.

You've gradually started sitting closer as the session has gone on. You’ve scootched to the edges of your seats, and your elbows and knees are gently knocking together. You can feel Eddie’s breath on your cheek as he jabs at his test total on your pad, screwing up his face and making a fist with his other hand in triumph. You’re genuinely thrilled for him, and not just because the very idea that you could be the reason for those gorgeous dimples popping makes your tummy flip.

Checking your watch, you realise you have a few minutes left before you have to leave, and there’s another new ‘skill’ that you’ve been thinking about trying with him.

Once all your supplies are back in your bag, you check the time again before asking,

“Eddie, would you like to try another quick practical session?”

He looks around the room, eyebrows disappearing into his bangs.

“What, here? Now?”

“Yes, but not like our, um, previous sessions. Something less… involved.”

“Okay, but what is it?”

“Eddie, I hope you don’t mind me asking you this, but have you ever kissed anyone?”

He looks a little abashed as he answers,

“Umm, does kissing your relatives on the cheek count?”

You can’t help smiling at his cute admission.

“For the purposes of this discussion, I’m gonna say no.”

He looks self-conscious, maybe even a little ashamed. Staring at the edge of the table, he clears his throat before replying,

“Then, uh, no.”

Not wanting him to feel uncomfortable, you reassure him,

“That’s okay, Eddie. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

After a beat, you continue,

“Would you like to try it? With me?”

“What?”

“Would you like for us to kiss, Eddie?”

His eyes become locked on your mouth. He swallows audibly, eyes shining with want.

“Umm, yeah. Yes. Yes, I absolutely would, Princess.”

“Just so I know how far you want to go, would you like us to… French kiss?“

“You mean… W- with, y’know, tongue?”

“Yes, Eddie. That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Are you okay with that? I mean, you don’t have to…”

Shaking your head a little, you reassure him,

“I’m the one who suggested it, Eddie!”

He looks down at his hands, now clasped again as he rubs his thumbs together.

“Only if you’re sure. I might be awful at it.”

“Well, that’s why we practice, right? So, first of all, we need to get a little closer…”

You turn your seat so you’re facing him directly, encouraging him to do the same. You pull your seat forwards, slotting your knees between his. You see his eyes scanning your face, and his fingers fidget, suggesting he’s not really sure what to do with them.

“You can rest your hands on my legs if you’d like, Eddie.”

He does so, but not without a little trepidation, and you see him swallow again.

“Just relax. I’m not gonna bite you. Not this time, anyway.��

You give him what you hope is a cheeky smirk. He smiles shyly, not sure where to look when you’re this close to him. Nervously, he licks his lips. The sight makes your thighs clench.

“Close your eyes and relax, Eddie. I’m gonna start with a quick peck.”

“O- okaaaay.”

He does as you ask, and you spend a few moments appraising him before you lean into his space. He looks angelic, his wild curls framing his pretty face and his rosy pink lips looking soft and inviting.

You turn your head slightly so your nose will slide past his, close your eyes, and ever so slowly connect your lips with his. Pursing them a little, you press forwards, and you hear a slight intake of breath.

You said it was going to be quick, but you’re enjoying the feeling so much you relish in it for a few moments. Eddie’s lips are plump, warm, and just a little moist from where he’s licked them. A tiny amount of stubble tickles your top lip. He smells of old leather, some kind of spicy cologne and vanilla chapstick, with a hint of cigarettes and weed. It’s a heady scent you could easily get lost in.

Gathering yourself, you pull back, rolling your lips inwards to taste him.

Eddie still has his eyes closed. If you’re honest he looks like he’s about to faint. Even after all you’ve done together you’re still a little nervous, and you’re suddenly mortified that he found it repulsive.

You did remember to brush your teeth this morning, didn’t you? Did you eat garlic last night and forget? Do you have spinach in your teeth, even though you definitely haven’t eaten spinach in weeks??

“H- how was that, Eddie? Did you like it?”

Suddenly, his eyes pop open. His lips part a little and he nods his head quickly, causing his chestnut locks to bounce around his face. He stares at you for a few more moments before he manages to say in a tiny, cracking voice,

“More? Please?”

You smile widely, and lean in again.

This time you move a little, pursing and softening your lips, changing their position slightly to find out what he likes, slotting them in different places.

To your surprise, this time Eddie starts to kiss you back. His plump lips press against yours and the tiniest moan emanates from his chest. He’s tentative at first, but as he gains in confidence he presses a little harder, and moves a little more.

Your lips move in sync as you rhythmically purse and relax them.

Eddie exhales heavily, and more than a little shakily, through his nose, and you feel his warm breath dance across your face and décolletage.

You part from him with a subtle wet smack.

He swallows thickly, and the grip on your knees strengthens.

You smile at him again, and his eyes flick between yours as he mirrors your expression.

“Okay Eddie, if you’re ready, this time I’m gonna use my tongue. You don’t have to do anything, but if you want to, just do what feels good. Alright?”

Eddie gives you another tiny, fast nod, and you feel him squeeze your knees again.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready…”

He surprises you again as he shifts his hands slightly and slides them up your thighs, leaning into your space a little further. They feel warm, strong, and you can’t help but imagine how they might feel elsewhere.

What would it be like to hold his hand properly? Would his hand feel warm as it cupped your face? Would you be able to feel his rings? How would his calloused fingers feel running up your back, or across your…?

You’re broken from your thoughts as he closes his eyes again, a slight curl to his lips as he lets you know he’s ready.

You lean into his space again, and connect your lips as before. This time, you part your lips slightly and allow the tip of your tongue to poke out, and ever so gently brush across his lower lip. You hear that sharp intake of breath again as he stills, unsure of what he’s supposed to do, but then he parts his lips ever so slightly, and you slide your tongue past his lips and pearly teeth and into his mouth. You move it slowly, enjoying the feeling of his lips against it, the scrape of his teeth, the softness of his tongue beneath yours.

He moans again, and just as your tongue curls up to tickle the roof of his mouth suddenly his tongue is moving against yours, slowly, reverently, experimentally, and another moan leaves his chest.

His grip on your thighs tightens as he gets bolder, eventually pushing his tongue past your lips and into your mouth.

Abruptly, he turns his head slightly and pushes in more deeply, his tongue almost filling you. He’s insistent yet gentle, and now it’s your turn to gasp - he’s good at this - and a low whine leaves you.

You feel a chill on your legs as Eddie’s hands leave them, and you’re momentarily disappointed, but this rapidly turns into delighted surprise when one comes up to cup the back of your neck, the other grabbing the edge of your chair and pulling you closer towards him. He’s moaning continually now, turning his head to try different angles, licking and curling and sucking like you’re the very air he needs to breathe.

He’s pushing hard but not too hard, and when your teeth knock it’s adorable rather than uncomfortable.

It’s wet and messy, and oh, so fucking hot.

Your hands start travelling almost of their own accord, slipping up inside his jacket, sliding around his rib cage and settling on his surprisingly muscular back.

His hand travels up to your hair, mussing it, and you’re making his shirt ride up, but you couldn’t care less, lost in the sensations of your lips melding and tongues dancing.

There’s a pulsing heat in your core, and a wetness building in your underwear. You don’t think you've ever been this turned on just from kissing.

And how on Earth is Eddie so good at it?

You eventually both pull back, needing air, breathy and inhaling deeply.

Your eyes dance around his face, wanting to take it all in. His plump, kiss-bitten lips, his blown pupils, the way he’s looking at you with a stunned half-smile.

Needing a break from the intensity, you drop your eyes. But almost wish you hadn’t when you spot the obvious bulge in the front of Eddie’s pants.

He’s clearly enjoyed this as much as you have.

Just as you’re both leaning forward for another round, lips just brushing, the harsh and loud ringing of the school bell indicates the start of afternoon classes.

You and Eddie break apart with a start, exchanging breathy smiles, both a little surprised at how well that went.

He chuckles as he lets go of your hair, tidying it as best he can, and you pull down the hem of his shirt to straighten it.

”So, uh, I think I’d consider that lesson a success. Wouldn’t you, Mr Munson?”

He huffs out a little giggle, shaking his head slowly. His brow furrows and he fixes his face into as serious an expression as he can manage, as he dips his chin and replies,

“Oh, Princess, that feels like a great start. But you know, lessons work with me. So, just to be on the safe side, I think I might need a whole lot, lot more practice...”

He’s holding your gaze and nodding, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips for emphasis.

You nearly snort at his brazenness, constantly amazed at how he so easily flips between abject fear and bolshy confidence, and manage to squeak out,

“Well, we’ll just have to see what we can arrange, won’t we?”

He grins at you again, those dimples even deeper this time, and tidies one more strand of hair at your temple.

Reluctantly, you both gather your things and leave the study room, still with shiny lips and heat in your cheeks.

You walk leisurely, your upper arms brushing, through the racks of dusty tomes. Neither of you is in any particular hurry to get to your next class.

You glance to your side, and notice that Eddie seems bigger, taller. He’s puffing his chest and is carrying himself a little differently. You like it.

He turns to you as he asks, “D’you think we should, y’know, leave separately or whatever?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Awkward questions, and all that.”

You see Eddie’s eyes glance to the floor, then flit to the section containing the large encyclopaedias and dictionaries, before he adds,

“You know what, you go first. There’s something I want to check out in the reference section anyway…”

He flashes you a wink as you round the door jamb, causing something to revolve in your chest as you step out into the corridor. You definitely want to offer Eddie plenty of opportunities to practice this particular new skill.

As you head off to your next class, you wonder what on earth he could be up to. But more than that, you wonder how he’ll react to what you have in mind for your next study session…

Series masterlist

Prev: Lesson 1: Female anatomy | Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills Next: Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Thanks so much for reading!

Remember, writers thrive on your comments and reblogs, so if you liked this little extra please show some love 💕

A/N 2: I added this as an extra because I wanted Eddie and reader to share a special first kiss, but couldn’t work out how to fit it into the main Lessons without making them ridiculously long. I hope you like it!

The taglist for this series is open whilst it’s ongoing, and I have a general one now too - just let me know if you’d like to join either 😀 My masterlist, where you’ll find more Eddie and Steddie fics

Taglist (open whilst this series is ongoing): @airen256 @bimbobaggins69 @urlbitchin @jamdoughnutmagician @rustboxstarr @bl4ckt00thgr1n @bexreadstoomuch @cozmiccass @sadlittlesquish @yujyujj @cluz1babe @thunderg @aysheashea @paleidiot @cadence73 @eddie-munsons-wifey @siriuslysmoking @neville-is-my-husband @aestheticaltcow @jjmaybankswifes-blog @lightcommastix @ungracefularchimedes @spenciesprincess @joejoequinnquinn @freshoutthewomb2 @sunshinepeachx @tlclick73 @hellfirenacht @yourdailymemedelivery @wendyxox @madaboutmunson @80s-addict @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @eddiesxangel @bunny7232 @starksbabie

[mrsjellymunson]

Hello! 👋

Hi, hello, I’m Kittie and I’m obsessed with Stranger Things, plus other weird and bizarre TV and films. Welcome to my Masterlist! (Yes, I’m finally calling it that 😆). I’m married to Eddie Munson and there’s nothing you can do to change my mind. I write for Eddie Munson (x fem! or gn!reader) and Steddie (for them and x reader), and very occasionally Joe Quinn. I hope to write for other characters at some point, and already have ideas for Mr Clarke and some of the girls.

I’m fairly new to being in a fandom (and old, in Tumblr terms!), so I might get things wrong while I find my feet so please be kind. I still feel new to writing but am enjoying myself immensely. I’m very friendly so please feel free to message or ‘ask’ 😊

I have taglists for each of my series and for everything (series, oneshots, blurbs, etc.), if you’d like to be on either just drop me a comment, ask or message 😊💗

🔞🔞 Important: I post and share mature and dark content; DO NOT interact with my blog if you’re under 18 🔞🔞 I block blank, ageless and inactive blogs so if you want to follow me please put something in your bio, including your age/age range, or at the very least respond to my request for confirmation.

Content key:

💗Fluff ❤️Mature themes ❤️‍🔥Smut 💔Hurt/angst 🖤Dark themes

MASTERLIST 👇👇👇👇

EDDIE MUNSON

Series/Multi-Parts:

THE BIOLOGY TUTOR 💗❤️❤️‍🔥 virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader Eddie’s failing class, again, so you offer two different styles of biology tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical

KNOCK AT THE CABIN ❤️🖤💗❤️‍🔥 Eddie Munson x fem!reader Post-S4, Upside Down exists. After the events of the previous months, everyone is shocked by the unexpected return of an old friend. But how much has he changed?

DAMSELS & DEBAUCHERY: The D&D Chronicles Game 1: Start Something 💗❤️❤️‍🔥 DM!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

GOOD THINGS (Come in Threes) 💗❤️❤️‍🔥 Steddie x older!fem!reader Moving to a new town was hard, but some of your son’s new friends make the transition easier

HELLO, STRANGER/HEY, BOSS 💗❤️🖤 Eddie Munson x gn!reader Black comedy/dark humour. A stranger buys weird stuff at odd times, and as the cashier at the local hardware store you’re not sure what to make of it. Now with a Prequel showing how Eddie fell into his new line of work

Oneshots, 5+1’s, etc. (newest first):

The Essence of You 💗❤️❤️‍🔥 Steddie; Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington 7.3k+ An argument, shared feelings and soft, slow smut

That Was You? 💗 Eddie Munson x fem! or gn!reader 1.6k A meet cute in a record store

Take Care of Me 🖤❤️💗 Eddie Munson x fem!reader 7.4k Eddie rescues you after a disastrous date REQUESTED

The Boy Is Mine, Kittie’s edition 💗❤️ Eddie Munson x fem!reader 1.6k A romantic night in at the trailer, using prop & dialogue prompts

Candyman, Candyman, Candyman 💗 Eddie Munson x fem! or gn!reader ~2.1k A Valentine’s 5+1: Five times you get to give Eddie a kiss, and one time he kisses you back

S.A.N.T.A. BABY 💗❤️‍🔥 Eddie Munson x fem!reader ~10k A festive 5+1: Five times you embarrass yourself in front of Eddie, and one time you don’t…

Leaving Hawkins? Come Again Soon! ❤️❤️‍🔥 Eddie Munson x Patrick Verona x fem!reader. Eddie and Patrick make your last night in Hawkins a memorable one (coming soon)

Ficlets, drabs, asks, headcanons (newest first):

Drummer!Eddie Munson headcanons 💗

Get Lucky 💗❤️ Corroded Coffin ficlet featuring Eddie Munson & Grant/‘unnamed freak’ 1k

A Crown For Your King 💗 Eddie Munson x gn!reader Eddie takes you on a picnic (ask)

What are those stains on Eddie’s mattress? 🤔 SFW Part 1💗 NSFW Part 2 💗❤️❤️‍🔥 (ask, headcanon)

Eddie Munson brings home a box of kittens 💗 (ask, headcanon)

‘Til Next Time ❤️❤️‍🔥 can be rockstar!Eddie Munson x fem/masc/gn!reader 0.7k. A tryst with your secret lover

Thinking About Dom!Eddie’s Thighs ❤️❤️‍🔥 Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Something To Crow About 💗❤️ Eddie Munson x gn!reader Eddie dresses as Eric Draven (With NEW accompanying art and an edit with me in!! 😍)

STEDDIE

Series:

GOOD THINGS (Come In Threes) 💗❤️❤️‍🔥 Steddie x older!fem!reader

Oneshots:

The Essence of You 💗❤️❤️‍🔥 Steddie; Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington 7.3k+ An argument, shared feelings and soft, slow smut

Ficlets/minifics (mostly <600words, newest first):

Hurt Me ❤️💔 Dress Up 💗❤️ Look At Me ❤️ Say Hello To My Little Friend 💗❤️

One Fine Day💗 A One Time Thing❤️‍🔥 I Need A Moment💗

“The Stuff”❤️‍🔥 The Counter Argument❤️‍🔥 Top & Tail💗❤️ Turning P!nk💗 Fool Me💗❤️

‘It’s My Birthday!’💗❤️ Pin Me❤️ The Edge of Insanity❤️❤️‍🔥 Fill Me (dom!Steve)❤️‍🔥

Fill Me (dom!Eddie)❤️‍🔥 Filler ❤️ Play Me💗 What’s His Name Again?💗

Find Me ❤️🖤💔 Teach Me❤️❤️‍🔥 Steve’s Keychain💗 Mud Cakes & Pancakes💗

Special Treatment v2❤️ Special Treatment v1❤️

JOSEPH QUINN

‘Til Next Time ❤️❤️‍🔥 can be Joseph Quinn x fem/masc/gn!reader 0.7k. A tryst with your secret lover

Happy Halloween, Love ❤️❤️‍🔥🖤 Joseph Quinn x fem!reader, RPF 4.4k. Joe raids the costume department at work and conspires to make this Halloween your most memorable yet

STEVE HARRINGTON

GOOD THINGS (Come In Threes) 💗❤️❤️‍🔥 Steddie x older!fem!reader

‘Til Next Time ❤️❤️‍🔥 can be celebrity!Steve Harrington or Joe Keery x fem/masc/gn!reader 0.7k. A tryst with your secret lover

Fic recs:

This is a work in progress, but here are some to start you off:

Authors and fics

Eddie fluff recs

Some of my fave authors

Non-ST writings:

If You Go Down To The Woods Today Freaky happenings in a forest featuring OC/RPG characters

BTW if you come across anything like typos, inconsistencies, broken links or whatever please let me know, I honestly will not mind! 😍🙏

I’m still fairly new, but I already understand that comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of this site. Please support each other and share the creativity! 😘