yuqiyu

[yuqiyu]

Guitar Lessons pt.2 (Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

♡ part 2 to Guitar Lessons.

*CAN BE READ INDEPENDENTLY

Summary: After getting guitar lessons from Eddie and things escalating, you ghost him for a week. You come back to apologize.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+ NSFW MDNI, oral, penetration, no protection

Tags: no use of y/n, slight angst, fluff, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby), dom!Eddie

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Eddie swears he’s been hard since the last time he felt you palm him through his jeans. If he had been completely honest, he would’ve loved to take you right then, looking at how you were splayed out on his bedsheets. 

God, you were breathtaking. 

But then again, it had been easy to hold back. It was enough for him to watch you sleep peacefully in his room, curling your messy head into his pillow and leaving a sweet scent. For just a moment, he could pretend that you were actually still there.

You had left his house before he even woke up, without a single word. Then you didn’t even call him. He couldn’t blame you. He hadn’t even tried to reach out to you because he was afraid.  

So, for the next few nights, instead of calling you, he’d lie down on his bed and close his eyes. He’d remember the way you squeezed around his fingers. How your brows furrowed as your mouth hung agape, drowning in the pleasure he gave you. He could get lost in the maze of his mind, forever running after you. It was his safe place; he didn’t have to worry about rejection in real life. 

He couldn’t forget what you had said, no matter what he did. Boyfriend. The way you whined it to him brought him shivers every single damn time. He hadn’t even thought that you could’ve said such sweet words because you were caught up in the moment. He didn’t like thinking about it, especially because he meant every word uttered to you. The time spent in his mind became a game of push and pull. He hung on every pleasure the thought of you brought him, but every time you popped up, it meant dealing with the inevitable. 

He palms his erection through his jeans, trying to imitate the way you had done it. He hisses and throws his head back. It isn’t the same. 

He sighs, then reaches inside one of the drawers and pulls out a pack of backup cigarettes. His main pack was probably haphazardly thrown somewhere on the floor of his room, and he just couldn’t be bothered to look right now. Before he can light it up, a couple of knocks on his door pull him out of his haze. 

He doesn’t say a single word. The door opens slowly as you peek inside the room. He can see only your head as you smile at him sheepishly.

“Hey, Eddie.” 

He puts the cigarette back in the pack, then looks at you as he sticks his hands in his pocket. He was glad to see you again, but a part of him was still slightly hurt that you left so quickly. 

You go to drop your bag on the ground next to his bed as you had often done before. He watches as you bend over, your shirt riding up ever so slightly and showing off the small of your back. 

You look and smell intoxicating; it’s dizzying. He hated that your mere presence was enough to comfort him. When he goes to speak, the look on your face stops him.

You’re looking directly at his groin, bottom lip tucked so prettily under your teeth. Fuck. He looks down at the large tent that betrayed him. 

“Where have you been?” he asks, voice raspy. 

Your lips purse and you furrow your brows, then shake your head. You get up and walk towards him, putting your hands on his chest. “I’ve been busy, I guess. But I’m not anymore.” 

He takes a step back with his hands up,  like touching you burned him. 

“What’s wrong?” you say, pulling back quickly. 

He throws his fists in the air and laughs bitterly before continuing, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…what are we?” 

You gaze into his eyes for a second, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. A nervous laugh comes out of you. “What do you mean?” 

He watches as you toy with the cuffs of your shirt in uneasiness. “I like you,” he whispers, then takes a deep breath. “I like you—a fucking lot, actually.”

“I know,” you whisper back, smiling softly,  afraid of speaking too loud.

“So…do you?”

“...Yeah, of course, I do.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging. You shift on your feet, and he raises his brows. 

“Look,” he says, putting his hands out in front of him, almost like a barrier. “I can’t do this if you’re not into this as much as I am.” 

You step closer, but he backs up again. Eddie knows he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. But if there’s anything he’s sure of in his life, it’s you. And if he can’t have all of you, then he’d rather have none of you even if every single part of him screams for you.  

He’s looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to tear his heart out, yet still hopeful that you also want him as much as he wants you. 

“I’m scared,” you finally say, and you mean it. A chuckle falls from your lips and he can’t help but stare. “I like you…a fucking lot, too. But what if things don’t work out? What if we become strangers? I’d still want you in my life even if I never got the chance to be with you.”

Eddie softens, then reaches out and tucks a strand of hair before your ear. He pulls you in close, taking in the sweet scent of your shampoo as he closes his eyes. He can feel your heart racing against him, and it makes him want to protect you even if it means destroying the world. 

“You make me sound like a selfish jerk,” he chuckles, playing with your hair. He feels content at this moment, here, with you in his arms. But it’ll never be enough, and he thinks he’s asking for too much. “I…can’t promise forever to you—who knows, maybe you’ll never want to see my stupid face again. And I wouldn’t blame you one bit.”

You whine a little noooo into his chest, causing him to bubble up with laughter and push you out at arm’s length as he unabashedly checks you out. 

“I meant what I said, y’know, and—and I know this is a lot for you to think about so—” 

“Okay, I want this.”

“What?” he asks incredulously. 

“I was selfish for leaving you high and dry like that. No pun intended,” you say as he snorts. “But I don’t want just this part of you. I want all of you. I’m sorry, Eddie. I shouldn’t have run away. You are the best thing that’s happened to me.” 

Eddie kisses you square on the lips. It’s hungry and passionate as if he’s trying to swallow you whole. You lean into him and allow him to explore your mouth as your tongues dance in tandem with one another. He slowly inches you towards his bed until it hits the back of your knees and you fall back, watching lustfully as he peels off his shirt. You bite your lip subconsciously, which causes him to groan and anticipate what comes next. 

“What, no guitar lessons today?” you question coyly.

“No, princess,” he whispers, his voice low and deadly. “You caught me on my day off.” He pulls your clothes off swiftly with your aid, and you release a giggle as his fingertips tickle your sides, barely ghosting your skin. Goosebumps rise from your arms, your body firing up with thirst and excitement. 

He begins to run his mouth down your jaw and neck, idly nibbling on the sweet spot of your skin. It takes everything inside of you to stop him, and when he comes up with slightly swollen, wet lips, you feel like you could pass away. His wide eyes stare at you, and you don’t miss the way it sparkles with hunger. 

“Flip over, Eddie,” you command, moving to push him down.

“What? Why—oh.”

Looking down at you, chin tucked firmly to his chest, he beholds the sight of your stripped form working on his belt. Your breasts glide over his clothed thigh and all he could think about now was how your nipple would feel brushing against him bare. 

You’re able to quickly remove the garment, tossing it to the side, eyes focused on the tent of his boxers. You glide your palms over his thighs and lick your lips while you think about every dirty little thing you want to do to him—and he knows it. He squeezes his eyes shut as he groans in frustration.

“Stop fucking teasing me already.” 

Your fingers move under the fabric and stroke the shaft deftly, giving him a small taste of what’s coming. He squirms under your touch, his feet flexing from the pleasure. His hips are humping the air erratically, frantically looking for your hands again. 

“Patience, sweet boy, I’ll get to it.” 

“‘S Been a week, I can’t wait any longer, princess.” He feels as if he’s about to implode with every second that passes without your touch. But it doesn’t take long for you to finally cave in and give him exactly what he needs. 

“Shit, Eddie, you’re…big,” you murmur in awe. 

“Yeah? That’s all for you, baby. Now, please.”

“Aw, you’re so cute when you beg,” you say. Your head ducks down as you concentrate on just his tip, working your tongue around the edges and giving some love swipes to the top from time to time. You let your saliva dribble down his shaft as you rotate your head in a circular motion, bobbing him to sensitivity. 

When your gaze moves up to his face, you notice his arms gripping the sheets as veins pop out from his forearms. He wants to look at you, but the pleasure has his eyes half-lidded and completely out of his mind.

You were just getting started. 

Your strokes don’t stop as you slowly move his shaft away from your face, giving you full access to his balls. You give an experimental lick. His flexed legs jolt, your smirk pressing against him.

“O-oh shit, fuck,” he drawls, becoming music to your ears. You continue suckling his skin, your fingers covering whatever your mouth can’t. It’s difficult to stop—you can’t help but bob greedily, swallowing him hole and feeling his tip hit the back of your throat.  You pop your mouth off of him.

“How does it feel, baby? Talk to me.” Your voice sends vibrations through his core, sending him close to the edge. 

He sputters incoherently while you work your magic touches on him. It has you feeling proud of yourself, knowing that you can turn him into jelly.

“You feel so—so fucking good, shit, princess,” he moans. “God, I’m so close, just like that, please!” 

You begin sucking harder. Your hand holds down his tense thigh as the other one continues stroking at record speed. He’s fucking straight into your mouth, and you try your best not to gag as each thrust hits your uvula. 

“F-fuck, don’t stop, I’m gonna—”

Eddie’s cum shoots straight into your mouth as he screams your name, hips still bucking into you. You struggle to swallow it, with some dribbling out the corner of your mouth. Once he finishes riding out his high, chest heaving heavily, he looks up to check on you. Beads of sweat are trickling down his forehead, falling onto his forearms that are propping him up. You smile at him, licking your lips.

“Oh, fuck me,” he growls, taking in the sight of his cum dripping down your chin, to your neck, and then your chest. Eddie can feel himself getting hard again, looking darkly at you sticking your tongue out playfully. He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Before you can do anything, he grabs you by the waist and throws you down on his bed, making sure to give your ass a firm squeeze. His mouth is all over yours in seconds, and you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in closer. All you can smell is the intoxicating haze of sex mixed with Eddie’s natural woodsy musk. He lets go for a second just to look into your eyes. Your heart skips a beat, and you suddenly feel shy. He’s looking so tenderly at you, his gaze roaming all over your face. He runs his thumb over the underside of your jaw, taking in the way you look back at him. You reciprocate, putting both your hands on his face and pulling him close, allowing you to kiss him passionately. He inhales you in, and you wrap your legs around his torso, shuddering at his cock rubbing up against your mound. You start rutting against him instinctually, wetting him with your juices. His hand slides to your thigh, running it up and down.

“I need you inside me now,” you whine unabashedly in his ear. He leans down to peck you on your forehead and smiles.

“You sure you’re ready for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Eddie, please, I want you so, so bad,” your voice cries out, and he all but loses any composure he has left. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” he says, head leaning to the side as his eyes crinkle into a dopey smile. “But I’m feeling a little bit selfish today.” He dips his head between your legs, arms keeping your thighs apart. His teeth graze your inner thigh, then he bites cheekily down into the plump flesh right next to your opening. You gasp, craning your neck to watch him grin at you before diving down. The pleasure overrides your system within a millisecond, leaving you with an arched back and labored breaths. 

“Wait, s-stop—” you say, pushing yourself away from him. He pops back up, your wetness already smeared all over his lips. 

“What’s wrong?” He looks so innocent. Big brown eyes hit you like a semi-truck and for a second, you think about how lucky you are. You shift your legs, lining them up at the sides of his face, and squish his cheeks with your knees. 

“Aren’t you tired? You already—well, y’know,” you say, waving your hands frenziedly. 

“Tired of what?” he blinks innocently, playing into a facade, but you know he just wants you to say it. You squirm away, feeling embarrassed. Eddie doesn’t let you, though, and he holds a firm hand over your thigh. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to, sweetheart, but you need to use your words, okay?” 

“You already made me cum last time,” you reply, your face beet red. “Don’t you want to fuck me instead?”

His face breaks out into a soft smile. “Of course I do. However…since you left me high and dry the last time we did this, I’ve gotten thirsty.” He wastes no time and gets straight to work. He holds your legs spread wide apart and wastes no time sticking his tongue deep into your pussy. Compared to the soft lingering touches before, Eddie works a little bit more roughly this time. He still remembers where your sweet spots are, reaching you close to your climax in a shorter amount of time. You can tell he’s slowly losing his patience through how you see his hips bucking as he eats you out. 

Your whiny moans egg him on. It fuels his ego and his throbbing cock as he jerks against the mattress. Your wetness is smeared around your inner thighs, causing Eddie to lose his grip on your legs occasionally as you squirm against his hot mouth. The sloppy sounds he makes are so lewd that it makes you clench around his darting tongue, never leaving a single part of your folds unattended. It doesn’t take long for your body to shake uncontrollably as he helps you ride out your high. 

Eddie’s lust-filled eyes meet yours, his tongue flitting out to lick up all the remaining juices left around your slit. The sensitivity is overpowering and leaves you trembling. He loves watching the way it still clenches over nothing, its speed slowing down. His lips pucker into a small opening, and he blows softly over you. The skin glistens as you jerk back and squeak out,  “Eddie!” with both eyes squeezed shut. You open them back up when you feel the edge of the bed sink, watching him crawl up towards you. 

“That was…scrumptious,” he drawls, sticking his tongue out for you to see. You spot a little dribble at his jaw.

“Oh, you missed a spot,” you say, reaching over and licking a fat stripe up his jawline from his chin. When you get to it, you give a little suckle, tasting a piece of yourself. You feel him gulp. With your lips pressed to the curve between his jaw and ear, you whisper. “Won’t you just fuck me already?”

“Full of energy today, huh?” he observes with a quiver in his voice, tapping a finger on the tip of your nose. “And so, so demanding, too.” You pout at his reaction, slightly disappointed because you thought he would be more eager to take you. He notices, and his features transform from teasing to pure lust within a millisecond. 

With one swift motion, he pushes himself all the way inside. You yelp out in surprise, gripping his sheets for dear life. The wind is knocked out of your lungs and your back arches, attempting to adjust to his girth. He gives a slow experimental thrust, watching your face struggle to keep up. A sadistic part of him likes knowing that he’s big enough to give you a run for your money, so he wriggles a little bit inside of you, just to remind you how much of him you need to take in.

“C’mon, you’re my good girl, aren’t you? You’re taking me in so well,” he breathes, thrusting at a more consistent pace, though still slow. Eventually, the discomfort begins pleasure coursing through your body. Eddie admires the way your face contorts, then leans down to suckle on your neck as he increases the speed of his movements. His hands keep busy on your body, running over the slope of your breasts and nipples. They map out every curve and angle, inking them into memories upon his fingertips. 

“You feel so good,” you moan. “Keep touching me like that.” Your hands reach out and grip his back, feeling his muscles flex under your touch. 

He laughs. “Do you feel how fucking hard my cock is inside you? You take me so well, shit, princess.” When you don’t reply, his thrusts slow down to a stop, the head of his member throbbing inside your core. You wiggle your hips to feel any friction you can, but it isn’t enough. 

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I don’t take kindly to being ignored, y’know.”

He flips you over in an instant, pulling your ass up and causing you to stuff your face in his pillow. Your murmur into it incoherently as he pushes back inside, making sure to pull your hips back against him with each thrust. There’s momentum within each of his moves now, and you feel your body rock. You use all your energy to push up on your forearms, then cry out as you try to push back against him with every thrust. 

“Well, sweetheart? Can you feel how fucking hard my cock is inside you now?”

“Y-yes! Fuck, that’s it, right there, please, baby,” you whimper, feeling your muscles fail you. Your body falls limply, keeping your back arched. Eddie supports your body, leaning over to run his hands over your breasts as he pushes himself in deeper. 

“Let me hear those pretty moans a little louder,” he grunts. “Nobody’s home, you’re all mine, baby.” You release a guttural moan once he finds your sweet spot, and he smirks in response. He reaches over and pulls your body up so that your back is pressed up against him deliciously, chest heaving. He pulls your hair to the side and presses his lips to the side of your neck, exhaling in bliss as you run your fingers through his hair behind you.

“Fuck, you’re so deep inside of me—y-you feel so good.”

“You sound so cute when you’re fucked out like this,” he laughs. “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, yeah?”

“Only you, Eddie,” you sigh.

“Say my name again.”

“E-Eddie,” you say, your voice muffled against the sheets. He can see your chest heaving against his bed, your hair splayed out messily. A smug look spreads across his face, hips moving at a languid rate. 

“I know you can do better than that.”

You muster all the energy you could to scream his name. He rewards you by burying himself deeper, faster, and rougher plunges into you. The head of his cock hits your g-spot perfectly, and you hear your voice echo off the walls as the room fills with the sounds of Eddie’s bed creaking and the lewd slamming of skin on skin. 

“Shit, you know how hard you make me?” he pants, giving your asscheek a loving squeeze. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long. Every fucking time you come over here and strut in your slutty shorts. Fuck me!”

You wiggle your backside, clenching down on him and causing him to growl in satisfaction. “I wore them for you.”

“Is that right? What a fucking tease. Gotta make sure you wear them only for me from now on, right, princess?”

“Y-yes, only for you…oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, Eddie!”

“Mmm, cum for me, shit, cum on my cock!”

He feels your warmth clenching down hard on his cock, getting him closer to his own climax as well. The wet noises bring you both over the edge as he talks you down.

“That’s it, that’s my girl, atta girl. You’re doing so good for me, god, I’m so fucking lucky to have you.” His hips are still jerking into you as he unloads his hot seed inside you. You can feel it warm you up and drip out of your hole. Eddie presses a deep and passionate kiss on your lips, then flops to the side and pulls you into his chest as he nuzzles his head into your chest.

You run a hand through his head and peck his forehead. “I should’ve done this way sooner.”

“You realized just now?” He bites your shoulder playfully.

“I—I guess I just didn’t think you’d want to. I’m not narcissistic enough to think everyone likes me like that,” you say wistfully, chuckling. Eddie shuffles up and looks at you seriously. 

“Everyone adores you,” he says, brushing your hair out of your face. You blink.

“Sounds like some personal bias.”

He reaches out and holds your chin, examining your face. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Pretty, smart, and funny, but bratty and annoying sometimes, too. That’s what I call duality. But you’re right. Maybe I’m just crazy in love with you.” He shrugs.

“You’re in love with me?” Your eyes begin to flutter close, unable to fight against the sleep.

“Good night, princess. I love you.”

[yuqiyu]

for guitar lessons followers :) (pt.2 coming soon)

help me choose which writing style to use for part 2 of my guitar lessons fic with Eddie!!

[yuqiyu]

New Girl (Eddie Munson x F!Reader)

♡ CHAPTER 1: New School, New You

Summary: January 1986. You just moved to Hawkins, Indiana, with your family in the middle of your junior year of high school. You don't expect to make friends right away, but what can you do when you are unwillingly ushered into your new school's Satanic club?

Word Count: 1.3k

Tags: no use of y/n, slight angst (in relation to moving)

A/N: For those who followed me from my Guitar Lessons fic, I want to apologize in advance for the change in writing style. I'm trying something new! Hope you like it :)

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Hawkins, Indiana is a little town tucked away in the suburbs. It’s smaller than what you’re used to, and the foreign smell pierces through your nose. It’s a far cry from the comforting aroma of your hometown. There’s no sweet scent of the sticky, melted ice cream on the benches outside the parlor you’d pass by every so often. No sign of the mustiness that would hang around the abandoned buildings off of the corner of your house. You almost don’t even remember what it feels like anymore.

When you enter your new home, the floorboards creak with each step of your converse. The laces glide against the wood; the soles leaving a trail of soil from the unpaved road.

The blank white walls are accented with brown chair rails covering the perimeter of the living room. Soft sunlight beams through one of the open windows. You peer outside, head craning towards the half-overcast sky. The universe doesn’t mock you today. Instead, it empathizes with you. 

An arm wraps around your shoulder and squeezes you in close. “It might not feel like it now, but we can turn this into our home.” You breathe in the familiar warmth of your mother. 

“I miss them.”

“I know, honey. I’m sorry.”

You wonder if she’s really that sorry. But you remember—she had to say goodbye to her family and friends, too. It’s no one’s fault that your father received a promotion under the condition that he moves with the company. There was no way to convince him to stay; he’d argue that the new paychecks could give everyone a more comfortable life and afford new luxuries, even. 

You were happy without new luxuries, though. Everything in your life was a fixer-upper, but that was all you ever needed.

So you conclude that she is sorry, to an extent at least. Because the possibility that she understood how you feel and could still easily take everything away without remorse feels much worse.

The warmth disappears as quickly as it came. You’re left with stacks of cardboard boxes filled to the brim with little trinkets and birthday cards, along with the labor of pushing them to your newly assigned bedroom. 

The air is suffocating. It swallows you whole and each stride echoes, bouncing off the walls in an infinite loop. The color is perfect; it’s the same shade you were used to waking up to every morning. But there are no old paint cracks running along the windowsills. There isn’t a thin layer of dust covering it, and the windows aren’t stained by the changing seasons.

You want to hold onto your childhood so badly that it haunts you.

Life has a funny way of keeping track of memories. It reminds you through the small gifts friends give in passing, the way you feel looking at the ticket stub of your very first concert, and the scar you got from a fall once. 

Even when you don’t want to remember, because it hurts so bad, you do. You carry the memories of your loved ones from back home with you, secretly hidden away in a safe compartment in your mind. 

They stalk you as you unload the boxes. A picture frame with all of your friends, a friendship bracelet, a diary in which only one page was scribbled in, a handful of scrunchies. 

You find your backpack crushed under some books. There are a handful of tiny rips and patches from when you tried sewing them back anew. Pencils and sticky notes are squashed in the smaller pocket. Worksheets, from the few days before you left, are scattered haphazardly within your notebook, half-finished. 

You had landed in the eye of the storm, halfway through the semester of junior year. Time stops for no one, and you curse it for that very reason. 

They say high school is the best four years of your life. In the three and a half years you were there, imagining a worse place was unfathomable.

You had watched kids being thrown against lockers, boys snaking a hand down girls’ collars, and favoritism, all of which could happen on the same day. You’d lost count of how many times your friends had come crying, searching for sympathy and comfort. 

Most importantly of all, you had seen what they do to new kids. Would Hawkins be so different?

You dread lunch the most. Your lost gaze and trembling legs turn you into a walking target. You recall some of the worst ways to be tortured by a senior, then think about the way a poor boy had pleaded with you through his eyes to help, to call for help, or anything at all. But you had stayed motionless, trapped by the unshakable fear of being next.

You realize this must be your punishment.

Yet, when you slowly walk through the aisles of the cafeteria, no one so much as bats an eye at you. 

Every single table is conveniently filled with their respective groups. It isn’t as cliché as the way they make it seem to be in movies, but the differences in fashion and personalities among each are enough to be discernible.

When you reach the end of one row, you stand face-to-face with a boy proudly donning a shirt that read HELLFIRE CLUB. He’s small; his brown curly locks are squashed by his baseball cap as he awkwardly moves to the side and sits down next to his friends.

The rest of the group, when huddling closely and laughing so hysterically, look like a strange assortment of candy tossed sloppily in a trick-or-treat bag. It’s almost endearing, watching the way their uniforms wrinkle as they carefully listen to who you assume to be their ringleader.

Today, you decide, is a good day to not eat in a random corner, on the floor, of the cafeteria.

You spot an open seat—two, actually, facing each other.

They fall quiet.

Their leader looks at you curiously, tilting his head ever so subtly to the side as he looks you up and down. “Hi there.” 

He smiles, though his eyes ponder: Who are you, and why are you here? 

“I—uh, I was wondering…” 

He arches a brow. 

Even though he’s standing a couple of feet away, his menacing height gives the illusion that he’s towering over you. His presence is strong and alluring. His gaze penetrates through your skin like a freshly sharpened spear. He knows how to command a room.

The fear returns tenfold, and you wonder if you had made the mistake of asking the king of bullies. Your eyes dart back to the seats and quickly change your mind. 

He notices, and there’s now a crooked grin plastered on his face. New prey.

You begin to shake your head and back away, maybe drop a few apologies, and hope he spares you. But he puts a hand up, gesturing for you to come closer. 

“Don’t be shy.”

You think about making a run for it. How fast you could go, how far your ripped shoes could take you—before he eventually finds you in this tiny school. It would only be stalling the inevitable.

Your feet drag against the ground slowly, and you swear they can hear the sound of your heart beating over the little squeaks your sneakers make. 

You finally stand before him, shoulders tense and white-knuckling the lunch tray. You expect a spit in the face, a kick to your shins, or if you’re lucky, some insults about your unbrushed hair or puffy eyes.

Instead, he looks over to one of the kids and politely asks them to move down. They begin to protest, but it’s stopped with just a single look. 

You are sure now, that this is how you caused the beginning of your downfall for the rest of your high school career.

[yuqiyu]

Um Guitar Lessons is smutty gold my dear!! If you decide to make a part 2 I wouldn’t be mad hehe

thank you so much <333 im glad you think so!! im definitely beginning to think about how to start it off so i hope you look forward to it :)

[yuqiyu]

just read that eddie fic, oh my god prt 2 WHEN!!

ahh im glad you enjoyed it 💕 i dont have plans for a part 2 yet, and im working on a series with eddie x f!reader right now! if the people want a part 2, ill give it a whirl sooner than later. thanks for the read!!

[yuqiyu]

Guitar Lessons (Eddie Munson x F!Reader)

♡ part 2

Summary: During one of your hangouts at Eddie's trailer, he offers to give you some guitar lessons.

Word Count: 6.6k

Tags: NSFW, sexual content, cunnilingus, face riding, making out, eating out, fluff, friends to lovers (kinda), slight angst, dramatic reader, no use of y/n

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“How long have you played?” you ask as you graze your fingers over the body of the guitar. It’s smooth and cold, the design fitting right in with Eddie’s aesthetic.

He’s looking at you cutely, leaning back on his forearms against the bed. There’s a sparkle in his doe eyes as he shifts a bit.

“So I see you’ve met the lady of the house,” he says, a slight lilt to his voice. “Go on, take her down.” 

As you carefully step over a messy pile of cassette tapes beside another pile of clothes, Eddie makes a grabbing motion and mumbles a That’s right, come to papa. You stifle a laugh, releasing a snort in the process. He shoots a look at you, fully defensive. 

Once the guitar (or the love of his life, as he’d say) is in his hands, it fits perfectly like a puzzle piece on his body. His neck is slightly craned over it. You think he’s looking at the strings, but as you move closer, his eyes are closed.

He starts plucking out a couple chords, a sweet melody completely contradicting the visuals you are being fed. You begin to close your eyes as well, allowing the music to flow through the both of you. It sounds beautiful despite not being hooked up to an amp.

It has been only a couple of months since you first met Eddie in the hallway between classes. You recall a head full of messy curls hanging over what you thought were interesting choices in an outfit. Girls were avoiding him left and right as he picked up the remnants of his stuff off the ground after a couple jocks had so kindly knocked them out of his hands. 

When you had picked up a notebook that had fallen behind him, a few loose papers with unfamiliar charts and symbols fell out. You plucked them up for a closer study.

“Just getting ready for the Satanic rituals this Thursday,” he mused. You looked up in surprise. 

He was a very pretty man, his hair framing his slim face surprisingly well. His large eyes bore into you, and you swore you could get lost in the dark abyss behind them.

“What?” 

“Sorry, bad joke.” He looked at you sheepishly, then to the notebook in your hands.

“Right, sorry.” Even after you quickly handed it back to him, he continued staring at you, amused. 

“Are you new?” 

You shuffled your feet, feeling even more awkward than you already were. 

“Yeah.” And the rest was history.

You open your eyes when the music stops. Eddie is staring at you with a crooked grin, inches away from your face.

“Jeez, you’re so creepy,” you laugh as you push him off. Ever the drama queen he is, he falls backward onto the bed limply, the guitar following suit. His hands are clutched over his heart as his face fakes a wounded expression. 

“I just gave you the best serenade you will ever hear in your life, and this is how you repay me?” He all but shrieks at you as you continue slapping at his arm.

“ Ever? That’s such a loaded statement, Eddie. You haven’t even answered my question.”

He jumps back up, then pauses for a beat. “I don’t know, my whole life I guess,” he shrugs. 

You stare back at the guitar, still being held snugly in his arms. There was no way to stop the idea of you being there instead, but you shake yourself out of it.

“That’s pretty cool, though. I don’t know how to play any instruments.” You copy his pose from earlier, supporting yourself up by your forearms. He twists his neck towards you, that beautiful damn smile beaming a hundred miles per hour your way. 

“Really,” he questions, dragging out the word playfully. “How about I, the greatest guitarist ever, teach you some new things.” 

“Again, such a loaded statement, but okay. Hit me.” 

The next hour or so is not exactly what you were expecting. He has an old acoustic guitar hiding somewhere in his closet (which he searches for with difficulty, under more piles of items) and has you test the waters on it. With the pleasant surprise of Eddie literally wrapping your back with his arms, moving your fingers to the right formations, you are basically floating on cloud nine. 

He is a demonstrations type of guy, not an I-will-show-you-first-then-you-play kind of way, but in an I-will-wrap-my-gorgeous-hands-around-yours kind of way. This shouldn’t have shocked you, ever since he cupped his hands over yours just to help you roll some dice when you hesitated during a campaign, at least. You often took sneaky glances at his fingers after that day, how could you help it? The day he finds out about your secret hand fetish will be the day you change your identity, because not only would it feed his already inflated ego, he would never let you live it down. He already has so much ammo against you, and you dread that only one more will put you six feet under. 

Eddie was exceedingly patient with you in teaching the strings and the chords, even though you had trouble memorizing where to place your fingers. You wish you could say the same about previous teachers, who were truly wicked demons compared to him. 

You let yourself falter and lean backwards, just enough for Eddie to notice. He suddenly peels your fingers off the instrument and gives little kisses to them. 

You yank your hand back in surprise and squeak out, “Eddie!”

His stupid antics always make it hard for you not to fall for him. It sometimes feels like he does it on purpose, like he means to fuel your feelings even more. 

“Just thought they needed some healing kissies ,” he replies, his pitch increasing at the end to mock you. 

“Kissies are only for couples,” you snapped, unable to process anything but the imprint of his soft lips on your hands. You hope you don’t look as dazed as you feel right now. 

He simply ignores you and strokes the neck of the guitar, still wrapped comfortably around you. “You’re a natural at this, y’know? Maybe you should get some real lessons.” 

“Yeah, right. It sure doesn’t feel like it.” You give your hands a good shake, loosening all the muscles as you sighed in relief. Dark, red lines were etched deep into your fingertips. Looking at them only made the pain feel even more real. 

He grabs them again, gripping them tightly. “Hey—hey, careful! These hands have unknown potential! You could be a god with these.”

“‘Thought you said you were the best out there,” you smile, nudging him in the ribs. He feigns offense.

“I am, but if there’s gonna be someone better out there, I’d rather it be you!” 

You can only roll your eyes at him as he drops his chin on your shoulder. He must be bored out of his mind right now, so you push for a new topic.

“Why are you being so touchy today,” you tease, turning to look at his face. It is much easier now to admire his features now that he is sitting so close to you. His eyes are glazed over.  “Wait a minute—were you high this whole time?” 

He gives you a guilty look.

You aren’t sure if you should be impressed that he was able to teach you so well under the influence, or if you should be disappointed. His affections to you often occurred under one and only one circumstance, and that was when he was ridiculously high. He must’ve smoked more than usual. The thought hits you like a crushing weight, smashing through your heart and sinking down to your stomach in just under five seconds. You want to throw your head into your palms and cringe at how hopeful you were, even though you’re already used to the reality of this godforsaken friendship. But then the sinking feeling falls even deeper into your pit when you realized something might’ve happened to make him reach for his stash like this. 

“Did something happen today?” You don’t mean to probe, but even stoner Eddie has his limits for most of the time. Sometimes the overcompensation is a little too obvious, even for your obliviousness. 

His head is still lolling on your shoulder, though this time there’s a faraway look in his eyes. There’s a silence that hangs thick for what felt like forever, until you feel his chin shift, trying to find a more comfortable spot to sulk in.

“Don’t tell me it’s girl troubles,” you huff out. The thought of it already has the heat rising to your cheeks. It’s one thing to have an unrequited crush, but to see said crush pining for another person was simply soul-crushing. 

He must notice your expression, because he looks at you amusingly. “Why? Would you be jealous?” 

When you shoot him a deadly look, he only giggles and reassures you. You’ve heard this speech about a million times already: you’re his best girl-friend and no one can ever beat you. To be honest, it’s hard to be beat when you’re his only girl-friend, but hey, it’s still a win. If he has to constantly remind you, though, maybe you’re being too obvious. You remind yourself to tone it down around him.

Eddie suddenly jumps off the bed with renewed vigor and swipes the guitar from your arms before laying it carefully somewhere in the closet, then plops back down beside you. His face is serious, the playful energy lasting only for a few seconds.

You ease yourself down slowly, lying on your side as you soak in the sight before you. His arms are tucked under his head, ankles crossed at the edge of the bed. 

“I only ask because I—”

“ Because you care. I know.” 

You give him a minute. There are only the sounds of your breaths mingling with each other, and if you relaxed enough, you swear you’d be able to hear his heartbeat. You’d usually miss the peace you had prior to meeting Eddie, but now, when there is no sound of his annoying voice or music or anything , it makes you nervous. Because a vulnerable Eddie is a sad Eddie. There was no easy way to learn this. 

“I heard you went on a date with Harrington,” he starts. His hands fly in the air as he continues. You can’t help but stare at the glint his rings give off in the different angles. “Went to the mall and everything.”

It’s your turn to look amused. When he catches it, he presses a finger to your lips, which only causes you to snicker. “How could you ignore me for some jock. Is that why you didn’t pick up my calls that day?” He has such an intense expression, backed up by the furrowing of his brows now hiding under his bangs. He seems so distressed, although you can’t help but smile at him in silence. 

“Is that all you have to say to me?” He’s practically begging for response at this point. 

“First of all, Munson,” you emphasize as he winces at the demotion of his name. It was easy to tell when you don’t feel like humoring him. Ever since the beginning, it had always been Eddie . When you had tried calling him anything else, it just didn’t feel right in those moments. And it still doesn’t. “It wasn’t a date. It was a double date!” 

His jaw drops as he rubs a hand over his face, having expected you to at least try to comfort him, like you usually would. It was shameful, honestly, the way you would scramble to mend his sorrow every single time. You pause for a second, letting the moment really sink in before continuing again. This is payback , you thought. “It was Nancy, Steve, Robin, and me. It wasn’t really a date, Eddie. I don’t know why you’d even care.” 

There’s a slight quiver in your voice when you articulate the last line, but you hope he doesn’t notice. However, it seems like that’s the only thing he noticed.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, missy, but I care a whole lot when my only friend in the whole wide world goes missing when I need her most.” The glazed look in his eyes hasn’t faded, but the seriousness is still there. You almost wish you aren’t still having this conversation because it only breaks your heart further the more he opens his goddamn mouth about friendship this, friendship that. But your love and concern for him overshadows it all, and you want to smack yourself over the head for that. 

You take a deep breath, inhaling all the different scents of Eddie (if that was even humanly possible) and ponder your thoughts. You like to do it because It keeps him on his toes, you remember, as if he’s always hanging onto your every word, inching closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. 

You allow your eyes to wander across his walls, taking in the various band posters, and then back onto the guitar. It’s so easy to get sidetracked in the confines of anything related to him, but the more you learn about him, the more you realize he’s just a huge dork who plays fantasy games and the guitar in his free time. He does a great job at keeping the air of mystery around him, though, and you wonder if people actually realized who he truly was, maybe they’d bully him a tiny bit less. That is, if they weren’t so scared of being sacrificed by him. He shakes you out of your conscious slumber with a couple snaps of his fingers in front of your face.

“Hey—are you even listening to me?” 

His hand continues waving in your face for a few more seconds before you swat it away. You’re looking at him with as much sincerity as you could possibly muster. He’s doing the same, though you notice the way the corners of his mouth tug down, like how they usually do whenever you reject one of his hugs.

“Can I level with you?” you ask.

He looks at you strangely, eyebrows raise in question. There’s some clarity to his eyes now, and you feel yourself getting sucked in temporarily. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps thickly. He nods.

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about your love life and who you choose to date, so why should you? ” The words come out with more venom than you mean to, but you couldn’t—no, wouldn’t , take back what you said. Even though you’re lying, it feels good knowing that he at least doesn’t know you have a massive one-sided crush on him. It gives the illusion that you’re in control, and you’d like to keep it that way.

Eddie’s features soften. He looks so hurt, and you can’t bear to look at him for more than two seconds. The room is silent again, though it’s lacking the comfort that usually comes with it. You slowly sit up, and start grabbing your things. Before you leave, he pulls your wrist back. His eyes are pleading.

“It’s still early,” he begins. “If you want to stay longer.” You look sparingly at his face, mostly darting to his bedsheets or the walls. His grip tightens. 

“I—um, I’ve got some overdue homework I need to work on.” 

He knows you well enough to know that if there was one person he knew that always had their shit together and done on time, it was you. But he lets go, and your heart stumbles because if he had asked you one more time, you would’ve stayed. You guess some things are just not written in the stars, and tonight was one of those things.

He only purses his lips and exhales, “Alright.”

He doesn’t walk you out the door today.

The next time you see him ends up being the following night. He had called the morning of, asking if you wanted to come over for more “guitar lessons.” When you didn’t reply quickly enough for his liking, he simply said, “See you at eight. Sharp, okay, sweetheart?”

Your heart twinges, so you agree. 

Eight sneaks up on you before you know it. The night air engulfs you as you rap your knuckles against the Munsons’ trailer door. It rattles violently, so you stop, fearing that one more would completely knock it off the hinges. You hear a familiar voice ring out, welcoming you in.

When you’re inside, you spot Eddie running around chaotically in the small kitchen. Various snacks are being crushed by his arms clutching them close to his chest, and he nearly slams into a table (not without cursing) while tossing them over onto the couch. 

He finally sits down among the mess, accidentally on a bag of chips, and it crunches. He makes a butt-shaped hole with the snacks next to himself, then affectionately pats the area and looks at you. 

You scooch around and pop open a bag of gummy bears. “We’re starting the movie early today, huh?” 

“You gotta return it tomorrow. We can’t have any more distractions now, can we?” He fiddles with the remote, pressing buttons here and there. There’s only static on the TV. He groans and gives it a good few smacks. 

“Wow,” you drawl. “Eddie Munson himself, actually remembering due dates, and not even his responsibility? That’s new.” He turns around to retaliate, but is hit by a gummy bear straight to the face. “Bullseye,” you laugh.

He only sighs and walks towards the kitchen. His hand squeezes your thigh on the way and, with an exasperated voice, says, “Be good ‘til I get back.” 

The movie ends without another hitch, and it’s not long after that both of you are back in his bedroom.

“So,” he says as he claps his hands together dramatically. “It’s time for lessons by Mr. Munson himself.” He picks up the acoustic guitar and seats himself down next to you on the bed. “Wanna show me what you’ve learned so far?”

“To be honest, not much. Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Munson,” you shrug, taking over and strumming out a few test chords. He wets his lips absentmindedly.

“Well, you seem to remember the C chord, at least,” he nods. “But—” He cups your fingers and shifts them downward. “You’re a bit too high there, sweetheart.”

The touch burns through your skin and sets your mind, body, and heart aflame. It takes you a second to answer. A second too long, is what Eddie thinks. 

“Okay…what about my G?” you ask quietly, not trusting yourself to breathe.

“Your G what? G-string or G chord?” 

You blink.

He winks.

And your body is at war. The rope inside you tugs between choosing violence or letting yourself melt in his arms. It’s close to betraying you, until you choose fight-or-flight’s third sibling: freeze. 

Eddie cackles as he shakes you awake. You feel your consciousness slam back into your body with full force. Your mind is going insane. What did he mean? Does he want to do something? Does he want me ? You’re about to open your mouth, to say Yes! Yes, Eddie, I want you!

“Bad joke. Sorry.”

You wish the moon would become unlatched from whatever science-y, physics-y thing that’s keeping it in orbit and hurl towards Earth and just crush you to death right then and there. How does one recover from this?

Except you do. He spends the next thirty minutes teaching you an easy song that includes the whopping four chords you’ve learned. It goes as smoothly as you hope, until the heat radiating off of Eddie and wafting onto your back is making you uncomfortably sticky. 

When you had left the house earlier, you wore tank top with a denim jacket to cover your arms. It wasn’t your best look, but you weren’t trying to impress anyone (more of a self-persuasion, but who’s really checking?). The decision feels like a huge mistake now, because you are definitely not comfortable enough at the moment to let him see your skin like that.

Each touch, each movement, and each breath of Eddie’s fanning over your neck so deliciously gives you more and more confidence as the night moves on. He’s pressing all the right buttons, as if knowingly, and your barrier begins to crack. 

You carry on with full composure, as you always have . He gives you a simple task: play at least halfway into the song perfectly. When you do, he leans in, lips slightly brushing your earlobe, and whispers, “Good girl.”

Your face begins to heat up at a rapid rate. Your body, on the other hand, isn’t sure whether it should tense up or relax. Eddie notices and places his hands on your shoulders, giving you quick squeezes sympathetically. It only makes it worse.

Not sure how you did it, but you were able to get the guitar safely on the bed before jumping off of it entirely. 

“Wow,” he exhales and simpers. “I just wanted to see if you had a praise kink or so—”

He’s cut short by your glossy eyes and trembling lips. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out, so he waves his hands uselessly. 

“What, so I’m just a joke to you?” Your voice betrays you, as much as you attempt to conceal your vulnerability. It sports a matching look on your face. This is it , you think. You lasted only a couple of months after making your first friend at this stupid school, and thinking about it makes you feel ashamed. Somehow, this feels worse than a real break-up. 

“I’m—Hey, look at me, please. I’m so sorry.” He’s scrambling to fix his mistake, hands all over you, and eyes frantically searching you for a hint of forgiveness, even if he knows it’s futile. 

“Eddie, I need to go. It’s fi—”

“No!” he cries, causing you to flinch. His grip softens on your shoulders, but is still unwaveringly attached. “It’s not fine.”

Even through the thick material of your jacket, the knowledge that he’s still touching you has you squirming painfully. “God, please , stop touching me.” 

Now, Eddie’s heart is breaking into a million pieces, and you know it well. Since the first day you met him, you could tell what his love language was. From the way he’d ruffle your hair affectionately after a campaign win, or how he’d pull you into a bone-smashing hug whenever you brought his favorite snack to school, to simply the way his eyes would twinkle right before giving you a first bump every time you parted ways. In a sense, this was a real break-up to him. 

His arm slowly slides off of you, with a pained look on his face. He then stares at you expectantly. When you make a move to the side, he reaches out towards you, though not close enough to touch.

“Please don’t go yet. Just—” He closes his eyes and groans against his palms, and you’re sober enough to know it’s not directed at you. If you hadn't felt so terrible, you’d laugh at the way he was repenting. You stare slack-faced at him, and while it’s not the reaction he was hoping for, he takes it as a second chance. “I don’t know why I said that.” 

“Like how you don’t know why you said, ‘g-string’ or why you just messed with me all night?” you nearly shouted. It takes a lot of energy to force the sass through your pain, but it shows enough to cause Eddie to shrink within himself. You can’t even feel bad anymore. Maybe this was an overreaction on your part. He’s always been like this, so what is different now? In a way, there is still a part of you that actually does feel bad, but only because you let yourself waste away in your feelings without ever bringing it up to him. There is no way for him to really know how you feel about him without communicating it. Even then, normal friendships aren’t like this. Friends don’t whisper dirty things into each other’s ears. Friends don’t playfully flirt with real sexual tension. So it’s not fair that you have to endure this while he’s the only one having fun. 

Eddie, on the other hand, wants to stuff his mouth with his fist. He wants to pull his hair out, he wants to scream into his pillow, but most of all, he wants to hold you and apologize over and over until he’s completely lost his voice. For you, he would grovel as much as you want him to, and to him, that would be nothing if it meant you’d take him back.

His voice cracks when he manages to find the courage to speak again. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable with my behavior.” He looks at you intently, eyes roaming your face, searching— begging . 

You look away, and it scares him. He’s never seen you cry like this, and it’s even worse since he’s the reason why. His arms twitch, and he realizes that that was the last time he’ll ever be that close to you again. 

After a million years (according to Eddie), you sigh, “That’s not the issue.” There’s a fierceness to you now, surprising the both of you. You jab a finger at his chest viciously. “My issue with you is that you keep taking my feelings lightly.” His brows furrow, and it only pisses you off even more. 

“I like you, you asshole!” There was no point of return. All of that was out the window the moment he crossed a line. Instead of feeling scared or sad, like you thought you would, you were instead enraged with an addicting fury. “And you .” You make a point to jab him especially hard for emphasis. “You have the nerve to mess with me all night long—not to mention even whining about how I should spend every waking moment with you when I already do…and you know what the kicker in all of this was? I did wish I was at the mall with you! I did wish I was on a date with you!”

His forehead is creasing, eyes wide, and mouth pursing. When it finally opens, he breathes out an Oh. And he suddenly he knows how to make things right.

In your complete, utter mess of a breakdown, you don’t realize that you had balled your hands tightly into a fist until you let go, and the searing pain from your nails digging into your palms lets up. 

Maybe you were okay with destroying this friendship before, you try to convince yourself, but the regret starts pooling into your belly along with nausea. You’re too ashamed to look at him, yet you also don’t have the courage to move from your spot. So once again, the room is just filled with the sounds of labored breathing and bated breath, both standing in a face-off.

And then you will your legs to move, to run far, far away. But Eddie catches you first, and his face is sloppily smashed against yours as he pulls your lips into his own. Certainly, this is bold, the boldest thing he’s ever done, he’d argue. Still, he’s unable to withdraw because once he has you—your scent, your soft skin, and your gasps keeps him wanting more and more. 

It only ends when both of you come up for air, foreheads still glued together as you laugh mirthlessly. “This whole time?” you murmured. 

You can feel the smug grin on his lips as he attacks the junction of your neck. You melt against him. “Yeah.” He continues down to your shoulder after pulling your jacket off, his mouth never leaving you. “So, was I right?”

“Hmm?” You couldn’t trust yourself to speak anymore. Somehow, Eddie has gotten you back to his bed, and you feel his necklace glide across your chest coldly, sending little shivers along your spine. 

“‘Bout you having a praise kink,” he mumbles. He’s taking his time on a particular spot near your collarbone, making sure to really mark you well. 

You’re too embarrassed to reply, so you hope he moves on from it. He doesn’t—worse, he stops. He’s holding himself up with his arms, caging you in, and looks at you mischievously. “Sweetheart, I asked you a question. Don’t go shy on me now. ” 

You reach up to press a kiss against him, but he easily flicks you back down like a fly. His brow arches, though he’s still grinning arrogantly. 

“Fine, yes, yes, yes, I do.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

You moan into him when he’s back on your mouth, tongues slow dancing. You still feel hot, but it’s different this time around. It’s more freeing—like you’ve let something go, and now you’re finally able to enjoy it. 

Eddie is a much better kisser than you imagined. You’ve thought about how he’d taste and how it’d go, oh absolutely, but this is real . You memorize the way his tongue darts around as if mapping out every part of you, mixed in with the faint smell of cigarettes and pure testosterone. 

He’s gripping your chest as he makes his way down and massages it to Hell and back. You can’t help but love how primal you’ve got him, which only turns you on even more.

“I’ve wanted to do many…many… many, ” he accents each word with a wet kiss down your arms. “...unholy things to you since I laid my eyes on you.” 

You strip off your top and bra, tossing them to the side with urgency. He only chuckles at your brazenness before giving both of your breasts a firm squeeze. You push him onto the bed and straddle him. “C’mon, Eddie, your turn.” He looks at you incredulously, then his stare turns dark after a blink of an eye. His hands run up and down the sides of your waist, leaving little goosebumps in their wake. 

“My, my, who knew you were so forward? All of that innocence…just an act.” He reaches out and captures your chin, firmly holding on as he angles your face around. The cold air drifts against your chest, causing your nipples to perk up. You release a shaky breath and close your eyes, suddenly feeling timid. “No, no, open them for me, sweetheart.” 

When you do, you feel him twitch under you, provoking you to ground back down on him. Your eyes are half-lidded, hips rolling. A guttural groan expels from his throat, and he grips you to a standstill. 

“Get—ugh, take it off already!” you whine, clawing at his t-shirt. 

He’s looking at you with so much lust, yet it’s filled with tenderness; his hands rubbing circles into your own only reaffirming that. After a moment of silence (in which Eddie is aggressively admiring your beauty), he licks his lips and speaks.

“I want you to know that if we continue, this won’t be the last time. There will never— ever be ‘going back to being friends’ or ‘acting normal.’ Because to be frank with you, princess, I can’t do that.” His eyes take in your silhouette, wandering slowly and deeply, because he’s so afraid. So afraid that this will be the last time you let him see you again. He wants to memorize as much of you as possible in case it gets taken away. He takes a deep breath. “So, if we do this. I want more of you—not just the sex, but I want to take you out. And… I won’t do this if you don’t want that. I don’t want this to be a one-and-done deal. Got it?”

You’re unsure whether it’s the adrenaline running through your veins or the sexual tension you feel for him snapping, but you run your hands under his shirt and over his bare chest. For whatever reason, his thoughtfulness turns you on even more than you thought you could be. You ache for his touch, and the desire builds into a searing pain. He wants to stop you, but he can’t; you’re too mesmerizing. 

“Eddie,” you moan out. He whimpers under your touch, and he bucks up into you. The muscles in his hand flex against your hip, fighting against his vices. Who knew having a pretty girl on top of him would have him become such a mess?

“Sweetheart,” he breathes out. “You’re not helping me here. I need you to tell me you—” He flips you under him, knee wedged conveniently between your legs, pushing barely enough against your core. He’s frustrated in more ways than one. His eyes implore of you, with the addition of his voice being much deeper. He lets you rub against his thigh for a moment before pulling back. He pins your hands above your head and hovers closely over you just enough for you to hear his harsh whisper. “Now, now, you’re not being very good, are you? Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” you beg.

“Understand what?”

“Fuck, Eddie, I want you to be mine. My boyfriend, my heart, my soul, and—” You slide your fingers down his body. “Your cock .”

“Shit,” he grins cheekily. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” He moves to unbutton your jeans as his tongue sticks out in concentration. You don’t understand how he could still be so cute during an activity as sinful as this. Once the garment is off your legs, you return the favor, nearly ripping his shirt off his back. 

He quickly pulls you back onto his lap. You continue running your hands down his chest as one of his fingers hook into the hem of your underwear, rubbing the skin of your hips with the pads of his fingers. His other hand swipes teasingly down your cunt through the fabric, causing the thick wet line to fully soak your panties immediately upon contact. You rut against him, despising the barrier that is his jeans. You need to feel him now . 

“Patience, sweetheart,” he says hoarsely, right before pulling your underwear off completely. “There’s something I wanna try first.” He pulls your hips up to his face roughly, and your hands land on the wall above him for support. You giggle.

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to put on the reigns.” Your heat is right above his mouth; you can feel his hot breath fluttering across, making you drip even more. His soft lips target your core, making sure to run his tongue over your clit from time to time. In the meantime, his hands continue roaming your body, starting from the bend in your knees to your quite indulgent thighs, all the way up to your chest. As you’re stuck in his maze of pleasure, he catches you off guard and pulls on your nipple. You yelp in surprise and arousal, the electricity of it aiding you in the roll of your hips against his face. He smiles against you, easily lapping up any juices that come out. 

It causes you to release your most lewd sound of the night so far, and this man is soaking it all up. He loves that he’s the one to make you feel this way and no one else.

“Bet Harrington couldn’t make you moan like that for him.” 

You roll your eyes. “Shut up, I wouldn’t have even let him.”

“Careful with those eyes, I don’t want them rolling to the back of your head unless you’re bouncing on my cock.” He continues suckling at your clit and your eyes squeeze shut, enjoying the sensation. You’ve played with yourself before, but it was never like this. You could only get so far with just your fingers rubbing idly as your mind sneaks off somewhere else. Just the way his tongue moves around you so languidly has you close to your climax already. 

He abruptly palms both your ass cheeks and pushes you deeper down into his face, to the point where you’re terrified you’re going to smother him—but he keeps it there, firm and steady, and darts his tongue in deep .

Now, you’ve seen this man’s tongue countless times before. Whenever pure concentration is necessary, that one time he provoked Jason Carver in the cafeteria, and the many periods of time when he merely wanted to make funny faces at you to cheer you up, like a child. Have you thought about what they’d feel in your mouth and inside of you? Naturally. But what you failed to understand was the sheer strength and length of each thrust. When you look down at him, you expect to see multiple appendages because there is no way he could work on so much of you all at once. Oh, it is so much better than you thought.

The thin sheen of sweat on his skin has his bangs sticking to his forehead. The rest of his hair falls nicely around him, like a halo under your thighs. The tip of his nose is bumping wonderfully against your button, bringing you closer and closer to your release. He’s looking straight at you, cheeks slightly hollowed out from the sucking motion. He squeezes your ass and gives a single slap. Your arms fall from the wall and land on the sheets next to him. Unable to hold back any longer, you start tweaking at your nipples. The sight has Eddie groaning into you, sending heavy vibrations straight to your folds.

“ Fuck , Eddie.” You want to scream, but you’re afraid that the neighbors might hear. You stifle a few more moans to the depths of your soul, until you feel your climax inching towards you. He answers incoherently into your pussy, but you know what he wants. His hands grip you tighter, helping you grind against his face. With one more hard suck around your nub, your orgasm comes crashing down on you. Your center pulses with each high, and you swear you’re seeing stars. You topple over, body limp beside Eddie as he licks his lips. His face is drenched with your cum. 

“Was it that good, princess? I didn’t even get to finger you yet.” He waves his fingers humorously in front of your face. He’s leaning on one arm, admiring the work he’s made of you. Your chest is still heaving from the intensity, and you fan yourself.

“God, yes, it was so—I don’t even—have you done this before?” 

“Oh, but of course,” he replies without missing a beat. You looked at him in surprise, then at the mess he made out of you. “What, do I seem like a virgin?” Your eyes are half-lidded, and you feel the embrace of sleep coming over you, but you’re able to muster out a yes and a few chortles for good measure.

Eddie had gotten up in the meantime and wiped his face with a towel, then used another to wipe you down. You croak out a “ Thanks” as he places a kiss on your forehead. He’s about to pull his covers over you, but you grab his hand with a frightful ferocity, alarming the poor man before you. He looks at you in question. 

You fight the sleep in your eyes, and yank on his belt loop. He falls over you, quickly catching himself with an arm next to your head. He chuckles. “What is it, sweetheart? Haven’t had enough?” 

You palm him over the jeans, and he hisses, but keeps steady. It was the most overwhelming orgasm you had ever experienced in your life, and as a result, your body’s energy levels are depleted. You feel guilty, wanting to return the favor, especially since he still has a hard-on, but it was getting more difficult each second that passes by. He notices and moves to the side of the bed.

“Maybe next time,” he says.

“Next time,” you whisper.

And the world fades to black.