I’m An Avid Eddie Fan (and An Avid Fanfic Reader) — Let Me Give U Eddie Munson X Reader Fanfic Recommendations

Golden Eighties (Chantal Akerman, 1986)

I miss when things used to be a bit ugly…. That’s when people had so much fun… now everyone is beautiful and untouchable and boring and sterilized…. Maybe fashion was weird back in the day and no one took proper care of their skin n whatever but at least people were having fun, at least people tried to be original and weird and fun instead of just being online . Maybe Sumtimes U have 2 go out on a summer day and have so much fun that u forgot to reapply sunscreen…. Maybe that’s what life is about ! Hmm….

every day i wake up alone in my little creaky beloved bed and I look around with sleepy eyes and realize it’s a “remember, loneliness is still time spent with the world” kind of morning

<3

This is a public call: does anyone know of any good George Harrison fics?? I have read so many but I need more!! Can be any type of George; teddy, beatle, dilf, gardener, au, ANYTHING😭 any recommendations are appreciated

hey! if you're taking requests, would you consider writing something for eddie munson? something with a little mutual pining??

*comes out of hiding, writes an eddie fic, disappears again*

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 2.7k summary: during a heat wave, you find yourself at eddie's trailer. turns out the two of you aren't as over one another as it would seem. warnings: (+18 MINORS DNI): mature themes, adult language, drug use / mentions of drug use, sexual tension & implied smut, use of pet names (princess), allusions to battling addiction, parental issues (deadbeat dad), a little angst, a little fluff - unedited - pls let me know if i missed anything!

The summer season this year was a lot hotter compared to last.

Starting as soon as mid-May, it brought with it harsh humidity, sweltering sun, and a drought comparable to the 1936 North American heat wave. It was the sort of hot weather that could quite possibly boil the blood of those who did not or could not find a way to cool down. And the news reported it was unfortunately only supposed to get worse.

You, like pretty much everyone in Hawkins, found the heat unbearable.

A week ago you sat in your room with the blinds closed, but sadly now that wasn’t an option because the air conditioning at your house broke and your dad was too conked out on the sofa to even look at it. Normally you would call someone to fix it instead and that is what you wanted to do this morning, however when you reached into your wallet you were greeted with a big fat nothing. 

Actually, no. There was a note.

‘Add it to my tab. Love, dad.’ — Well, that explained where he got the money to get himself in the state he was in.

At that point in the afternoon, anywhere you could have remotely hidden from the sun was unattainable, especially and most regrettably the community pool which was overcrowded with stupid little kids. That is why you ended up where you did. Definitely not where you wanted to be, but in your own defence you were on the verge of a heat stroke and not thinking clearly. 

With your index finger bent ever so slightly, you knocked three times on the trailer door. 

You could hear a slight commotion inside, from abrupt coughing to shuffling footsteps and random clanking. When the door swung open, you caught a whiff of the reason why.

“y/n—” Eddie choked out, clearly surprised to see it was you standing on his doorstep. Surprised yet oh so very relieved.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Eddie stepped to the side, allowing you to squeeze past. His gaze stuck to your frame, following you around his living room until you reached the rattling A/C unit at the window. 

“I- eh, I’m sorry about the smell,” he uttered, running a hand through his hair, “I-I wasn’t expecting company.”

You hummed in response. Or perhaps you said it was okay. Eddie couldn’t really tell since his mind was working a little slower than usual (due to the activity he was partaking in not even a minute ago).

Although, he was alert enough to note how your whole body gradually relaxed as the somewhat fresh air blew against your skin. All of a sudden, and only for a split second, you looked incredibly at peace. 

Eddie bit on the inside of his cheek, fighting back a smile. “You okay there, princess?”

Wait. Princess? Princess… What the fuck? He shut his eyes momentarily and clenched his jaw, hating his big mouth for letting the word slip. Like, yeah, he still thought about you sometimes, but it’s not what he called you anymore. It wasn’t his nickname to use anymore.

“Mhmm, better now,” you mumbled, seemingly unfazed by the moniker (you could argue the heat messed with your receptiveness), before shifting in your spot to look at the curly haired teen. “So much better.”

With the A/C now behind you, there was a slow gust of wind blowing through your top. The nickname debacle running through Eddie’s mind faded as quickly as it occured. Fuck— princess. How in the hall was he going to concentrate now?

“Good, goodie, good.” He bopped his head and licked his lips.

Oh sweet lord. He was doomed.

“Sooo… to what do I owe the pleasure?” Eddie inquired, plopping down on the couch.

You couldn’t help but notice how his t-shirt raised in the process, revealing his lower abdomen. It was your turn to crumble. God he was always so fucking hot. With his impeccable facial structure, perfect smile, big doey eyes that literally made you melt, long fingers, soft touch—

You cleared your throat, eyes lingering a little too long on his exposed stomach. 

He noticed. He liked it. Fuck. Not surprisingly Eddie always liked that kind of attention from you, and he secretly thought it was a real shame he was no longer on the receiving end of it. Not as often as he used to be anyway.

“The air con at my place broke overnight and, well, I don’t know, I just couldn’t think of anywhere else to go,” you admitted, meeting his big curious eyes.

He extended an arm to gesture around the trailer.

“Mi casa es su casa.”

You smiled at him. “Thanks, Munson.”

Anytime… princess, he thought. Or wait, did he say that out loud? Lord. He needed to get a grip. There was nothing there, with you, not anymore.

Honestly, the situation between the two of you was odd to say the least.

Simply put, the curly haired teen used to be your dealer. Well, actually, your dad’s dealer. You did the grunt work while your old man reaped the benefits. It was a strange arrangement, even for Eddie’s standards, but you clearly had your reasons and he wasn’t one to pry. You appreciated that about him. He kept his nose out of other people’s business. These days in Hawkins, it was hard to come by folks that stuck to their own shit.

You actually ended up appreciating a lot of things about Eddie. And the feeling was definitely mutual.

The secret meet ups in the woods or at his trailer blossomed into a friendship, then into something more, and then into complete shit. Moral of the story, never do your dad’s dealer - that’s what you would say. Eddie, on the other hand, has very little regrets. The only one being letting you move on so easily.

You ran a hand across your forehead, wiping away any reminiscent of sweat. Bopping your head back slightly, lips ajar, the cool air from the A/C doing wonders for your sticky skin.

Eddie watched you attentively. With every passing second he felt less aware of his surroundings, completely losing himself in you as his mind now raced with thoughts, (memories), too filthy to say aloud.

Once upon a time he would have been able to leap across the room and plaster his lips against yourss then lick the trickling sweat down your neck, down, down, down, as your fingers tangled themselves amongst his curls, tugging lightly when his tounge reached— Fuck, he wanted to scream.

“Can I ask you something?”

Yes, yes, thank you. Eddie straightened his form on the sofa, trying to look as normal as possible, right arm landing across the cushions. 

“Anything, princess.”

Princess.

“Did you sell stuff to my dad recently?”

The question caught him off guard. Shit, maybe silence was better.

He cleared his throat. “Uhm, not since you asked me not to.”

“Oh,” you hastily exhaled a sigh of relief. 

There was a brief moment of silence during which you moved away from the window and glided across the room to sit next to him. Sinking into the spot, your head unintentionally rested against Eddie’s arm. The sudden contact caused his heart to skip a beat, but he couldn’t think about that right now.

“Is he—” Eddie began but you knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Yeah,” you cut off and looked up at him, “hence the broken unit at my place.”

His brown locks bounced lightly as he nodded, a little slower than intended because the scent of whatever perfume you had put on that morning just hit him. Combined with the heat (and also the drugs), well, full transparency, it took all the power he had not to lean across and kiss you.

Bad timing, bad timing, bad timing.

“You know, I-I could take a look at it for you,” Eddie offered, trying to literally think about anything different to how close you currently were, “if you’d like?”

“No way,” you protested, “You’re in no state right now. Plus I’d have no way to pay you for your troubles since dad took the cash out of my wallet.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I am in tip top shape,” Eddie defended and you couldn’t help but scoff.

“Munson, you are one joint away from—”

He lifted his left hand, almost pressing a finger to your lips. “Unless you’re about to say - Munson, you are one joing away from a killer nap - I don’t want to hear it.”

You laughed while rolling your eyes. “That only proves my point.”

He pressed his hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. “Cheeky one, aren’t ya? I invite you into my home, let you use my air conditioning, and in return you just poke fun at me. I’ll be honest, princess, that’s a little rude.”

With that, he hopped up onto his feet and stumbled towards the fridge. You sat up a little wanting to make a snarky comment in response, but as you watched him manoeuvre around the small open kitchen, no words came to mind.

You watched as he reached for two glasses and inspected them under the minimal natural light to determine whether they were clean enough to drink from. Watched as he swayed on his heel, turning towards the fridge. Watched as he leaned slightly on the door of the appliance, head inside the cool interior, rummaging for something to drink.

A smile circled your lips. There was no denying that Eddie had this calming aura about him. Everything he did, even the smallest and most menial tasks, were soothing your soul. Once upon a time you would have thought this was love.

“Eddie?” 

(God. The way his name fell from your lips was heavenly.)

“Yes, princess?”

Fuck sake. He really needed to put an end to that shit.

“Why did you stop selling to my dad?”

His head popped up at the question, attention once again landing on you. “I already told you. You asked me not to.”

You lifted your legs off the floor and onto the couch, bringing your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. “Right, but, well, I guess what I want to know is why did you listen? Like, we weren’t anything at that point and I would’ve thought business is business, or whatnot.”

Eddie swallowed his breath. Partially because of where this conversation was heading, however primarily because you pretty much just flashed him. Holy shit. Unintentionally, obviously, but he saw your panties clear as day. Dark green. Lacy. New. Hot. 

Nope. No. Fuck. Fuck.

What was going on with him? Navigating his thoughts this whole afternoon was considerably harder than one of his D&D quests. He could have sworn he was over you, and then you waltzed in here with your short skirt and sweet voice, he was hooked yet again.

Well, one could argue that for a blissful moment Eddie forgot the circumstances of your relationship, hence the trouble in differentiating in how he should and shouldn’t act around you right now. Because you weren’t really exes, you have to officially call yourselves something while you’re seeing each other to classify as an ‘ex’. You weren’t really friends, not anymore. Maybe just acquaintances or two individuals with a past.

God, he was an idiot. The two of you had so much potential. Why did he ever let it get to this point?

“I mean you don’t have to tell me,” you babbled, breaking him away from his thoughts.

Eddie straightened his form and closed the fridge, a chilled bottle of Coca Cola in his hand. He proceeded to then split the contents between the two glasses before making his way back towards the couch. He gave you one glass, making sure to alter his fingers when you reached over to ensure there was no accidental touch (because he simply wouldn’t be able to handle that right now).

He once again made himself comfortable beside you and took a big gulp of the drink, smacking his lips in the process.

Eventually, he looked at you again. “The truth?” 

You nodded an unspoken ‘please’ and Eddie clicked his tongue in response before nodding slowly.

“The day you asked me, you just looked really defeated, you know?”, he began, “Tired and upset. I’ve never seen you like that before so I figured it must’ve been important that you asked and that I listened.”

He shrugged before continuing. “Couple days later your dad came to the trailer, he was definitely on something, and kinda seemed like he hadn’t slept in days, so I told him supply was low and he never came around again.”

Pause. 

“I-I just pictured your face from when we last spoke and it hurt, you know?” 

At that point, the two of you were clinging onto your drinks and staring blankly ahead. He wondered if he perhaps said too much and you wondered whether he would’ve been as honest if he wasn’t high.

Mostly however, mostly you were glad Eddie still gave you reasons to appreciate him more.

“He’s on probation,” you stated eventually, “That’s why I always got the drugs for him. If he got caught… I know he’s no exemplary father figure but he’s still my dad, and he can’t be my dad if he’s rotting in jail.”

Eddie glanced at you. “I didn’t know.”

“Not exactly something I advertise,” you pointed out and took a sip of your drink. Swallowing the fizzy gulp, you shrugged. “Sure, life is shit, and then you die.”

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh. One of those loud, genuine, and hearty chuckles. He didn’t mean for it to happen, truly, and again he blamed the devout friend still actively seeping through his system.

‘Life is shit, and then you die’, he swore that quote was going to be his next tattoo. Might even ask you to design it. He figured you’d like that. Brand him as your own. That’s all he ever wanted to be. Yours.

He thought he could only hope there was still a chance, but judging by how a smile broke your features as he laughed, and any tension you were feeling about the conversation you were having melted away, he had nothing to worry about. It was in your eyes, in the way your whole face changed from concern to joy. You wanted to be his too.

SImply a matter of time for forgiveness to kick in.

“You know,” Eddie began as the laughter died down, “I’m glad your A/C broke.” 

On instinct, you smacked his arm. “Hey!”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, princess!” Eddie exclaimed. “You’re seriously not even a little bit glad you ended up here today?!”

You shook your head dramatically and teased, “You’ll never hear those words from me, Munson.”

He scoffed and waved his arm, pointing to the door. “Then off you go, please, go back to your stuffy home while I enjoy a killer nap in my cool and cosy bed.”

Not wanting to be the first to break during this little charade, you handed him the half-drank Coca Cola glass and stood up. Your skirt capered with every step, Eddie’s eyes burning into the back of your legs. Was he really about to let you walk out of here?

“Always a pleasure, Eds.”

(The answer was no).

“Wait, wait, wait.” He hastily placed the glasses on the floor, almost causing a massive spillage, and hurried towards you.

“You don’t gotta say anything,” he chimed, stopping right in front of you, “In fact, my bed, as you already know or at least hopefully remember, is big enough for the two of us—”

The air suddenly felt tighter, as if the unit at the window suddenly stopped working, even though you could still very much hear it rattling.

“— And I am known to make exceptions,” Eddie noted before leaning in a tad bit closer with a sudden boost of confidence, “for the right people.”

For a split second, his gaze shifted to your lips and everything faded into the background. The sound of your heart thumping overpowered the surroundings and all you could think was how if he kissed you right now, you wouldn’t even be mad.

Instead his fingers grazed briefly against yours.

“Let’s go take a killer nap, princess.”

-

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i don't wanna be on my phone but i need my phone to figure out where i'm going on a walk and i need my phone to get to my audiobook and i need my phone to call my brother and i need my phone to get in touch with my friends which is fine but i don't want to be on my phone.

so i walk and that's fine and i'm using the phone in an okay-way in that moment. but sometimes i am using the phone like it is a weapon and that's stupid because no it's not. ive seen a weapon those are different this is a phone. but it's also in my hands until 2 AM and i haven't slept. at 4AM. i don't even mean to do it half the time i'm opening the phone to check the weather or to check my email which are things-that-are-okay but then i am in my phone for hours somehow, and i missed the dawn while i was on instagram. i don't even like instagram.

i don't want to be on my phone im not good at it so i try to put distance there but then i'm distancing myself from my friends. we meet up in person but my pictures are on my phone and the menu is on the phone (mon dieu) and so is venmo. so i need the phone to be with my friends and that's fine because it can record concerts and fun activities and i can take pictures of them smiling with pumpkins.

but i don't want to be on the phone because i go to look at the pictures of the pumpkins and i hate how i look in it but it's fine. and somewhere between the pumpkins and 3AM i have lost so much time. i don't even know what i'm doing on it only that i don't enjoy it any longer. it is this long blank void. forever and ever. restless like how mushrooms feel restless beside a dead body.

i don't want to be on my phone so i pick up the phone and i type into google things to do in my area and i save them to my phone and i'll need my phone to get to the tickets and i'll need my phone to book the appointment and i'll need it, i'll need it

restraint

premise: it’s not eddie’s fault that he wants you so badly, he can’t help it.

pairing: perv!eddie munson x (f)reader

word count: 1k

warnings: eighteen+ content, unaware somnophilia, so dubcon, dry humping, coming on panties, a bit obsessive!eddie.

etc: i guess i’m part of the pervy eddie club now, i hold no shame i just wish this idea didn’t come to me at five in the morning because i still have gotten no rest from it!

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

Eddie can’t help it, he really can’t. The little voice in the back of his head—the one that’s probably his conscience, that part of your brain that lets you know when something is morally wrong or just plain fucked up—is being steam rolled and turned into white noise as his cock hardens in his pants.

He can already feel the droplets of precum wetting the material of his boxers, making it cling to the tip of his cock.

He wonders if you can feel it, the way he’s throbbing as he grinds against your ass in slow gentle thrusts. Just enough for the friction to move your body with his, but not enough to wake you.

And yeah, he really shouldn’t be doing this but he really cannot help it. Not when you look this pretty in one of his band tees. The bottom of the shirt pulling up the more you move in bed, exposing your cotton panties, the curvature of your ass, the way the cotton clings and shapes your cheeks so perfectly.

How could he not reach out and touch?

His fingers were buzzing, burning to run along the material. His palm feeling like a furnace compared to yours when he lets it run along your back side, over the curve of your ass, your buttcheek sticking out from the bottom of the panties—index finger running along the back scheme right where your pussy hides, right where he wants to be, loves to be.

It wasn’t his fault that you looked so perfect like this, so pretty. Just as it wasn’t his fault that his cock had started throbbing to the point of pain, aching to the point of need that he had to rut against you. He would have gone insane if he didn’t.

And it wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last.

He would purchase a million tees if it meant he got this kind of show every night. Got to see your bare legs, your braless tits fill out the front so well.

God he loved the way you looked in his clothes.

Loved you like this. At his disposal, so fucking pretty for him, all his, his cock fitting perfectly against your ass—pressed between your cheeks when he finally can’t stand the pounding in his cock anymore and pulls down his pajama pants to position his cock between them. The cotton so soft. His nose buried in your hair as soft grunts fell from his open mouth.

His body even closer. Like glue to yours, your frame moving in tandem with his, quicker, harder the more pressure he puts in his movements. Enough to have your tits bouncing.

And he shouldn’t be greedy. Shouldn’t need—want—more. But you’re just so perfect and he can’t help how badly he wants you. He can’t.

So he doesn’t hesitate in moving his hand below the tee, his palm cupping your tit. Thumb running along your erect nipple, your small whimpers echo through him like a siren calling out to passing ships.

How could he not touch you like this? How could he ever stay away, not want to have his cock pressed to your body, inside of it, fucking you, feeling you all of the time.

How was it wrong to want you this bad, it couldn’t be.

“So perfect,” Eddie whines at the back of your skull. Whispering to you, hoping you can hear, feel how hard he is right now. How much he fucking aches for you to the point of frustration. “My pretty girl.”

He definitely shouldn’t come like this. On your cute little panties while you’re sound asleep. But he needs to come. Needs to mark you, needs to show you what you do to him, what you caused, why he can’t control himself around you.

And so he’s letting out a gutturaled sob into your hair as he paints the outside of your panties with his come. Wetting them, staining them with the seed you forced out of him. From making him crave you. Want you. What he couldn’t help. What your perfect body does to him.

When he pulls back to see a glob of it on one of your exposed ass cheeks he’s already growing hard again. Wants to wipe it up with his finger and push it between your lips, have you swallow it down without even knowing.

But, knowing you’ll wake up wondering, innocently clueless as to what’s on your skin, why your panties feel so weird; brings an amused kind of joy to him. Makes him want to hold you down to the bed and show you where it came from. Only this time he’d be coming inside of you.

He hisses at the sensitivity as grips the head of his cock, moves it along the wet patches of his come on the cotton. Spreads it along your purt covered cheeks. Wants you to wake up feeling soiled, soaked, wet because of him.

The ache deep in his balls is barely sedated. It never is when it comes to you. He could do it again. Ruin these panties to the point of unsavory. Or maybe he could pull them to the side, press the heat of his cock into your crack. Rub the head of his cock against it until he comes again.

Or even run the length of it along your pussy. Hear the wet noises of your folds opening up for him, greeting him like a warm embrace he wants so badly to be inside of—all of the time. You’d get so wet so quick, you have before when he’s done it. Have even come in your sleep just from the tip of his cock lightly brushing against your clit.

It never felt wrong to be with you like this. To take you like this, have you like this. You were his girl, so pretty, so perfect. He needed you, it wasn’t his fault.

And he never was any good at self control anyway.

getting that august feeling (things that have ended endlessly are ending again)

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