#also damn those designs are still cute
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i wont post every single edit i made to my pmd oc refs but im happy with asha’s quite a bit so ill post that
(old is top new is bottom)
#i really only meant to add the freckles under her eyes bc somehow i forgot them.... damn#but then i just. couldnt stop looking and going ''wow this ref is ugly'' so i changed more than i thought#including moving her earmuffs. still part of her design and critical/not optional but now theyre on their neck usually#just bc i feel like the cute fluffy look kinda clashes with their more anxious/serious personality#at least on a usual basis. she still wears them on her ears a lot of the time so its not aredesign as much as it is a tweak#also she has those earrings now and i just relaized i forgot to edit the bottom doodle w her freckles FUCK#oh well u can see them still its whatever#also realizing how her pincers are different sizes ok ill fix that later tho#but yeah tldr her head was too large her face was awkward and weird and she looked off overall#echoed voice
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no me importa | lewis hamilton x fem! reader
summary; when a recent video exposes y/n and lewis’ relationship, other people think they can comment on their age gap, but at the end of the day y/n and lewis will always love each other
fc; cindy kimberly
warnings; age gap , mentions of 18+ themes
notes; loosely based off of mayor que yo by wisin & yandel and mayor que usted by natti natasha, daddy yankee, wisin & yandel :p , also reader is kinda implied as latina but it’s not important
me 🤝 writing smau’s abt dating older men
masterlist !
liked by lewishamilton, lilymhe, and 1,020,047 others!
yourusername: made vegan alfredo for me n bae, definitely went into a food coma after
tagged; lewishamilton, roscoelovescoco
lewishamilton: wifey material
yourusername: yes i do the cooking yes i do the cleaning 🧎♀️🧎♀️
lewishamilton: it was amazing, love ❤️
yourusername: i put my blood sweat n tears into that alfredo, it better have been damn well amazing😕 ( thank u love💗💗)
username: so this is a confirmation?
username: girl did u not see the video, they were shoving their tongue down each others throat ???😦😦
username: cute but age gap is still icky to me 😕
username: tbh dating someone 13 years older than me is weird asf 😭
rosecoelovescoco: thank’s you’s
yourusername: ur welcome if u stop chasing lunita around 😕
lewishamilton: he is just a baby!
yourusername: so is my gatita lunita , she’s a scaredy cat , literally !!😞
username: she’s so pretty in everything what😞
username: 😍😍😍
lilymhe: cook for me next? 😏😏
yourusername: give me the time n place😉
username: ok but her learning how to make vegan pasta for lewis?? is so??? cute ????🥹🥹
username: he’s a grown man n 13 years older, he can cook for himself
username: it’s never that serious
liked by username, username, and 93,038 others!
f1upadates: Lewis Hamilton and Y/n L/n were both spotted at the British Fashion Awards after confirming their relationship. Thoughts on the new grid couple?
tagged; lewishamilton, yourusername
username: the fact she designed her outfit n did her hair and makeup 😩🙌
username: they’re such a good looking couple even if he’s like 13 years older than her 😭
username: i need her skincare routine!😩
username: be 13 years younger than your boyfriend helps!
username: she’s so desperate that she needs to date someone older than her? how embarrassing 💀💀
username: her parents must be so disappointed…
username: why? shes a model w her own fashion line dating a 7x (8x) world champion, they’ll be fine😭
username: y’all coming at her for dating someone older like you wouldn’t date your faves who are also older!! she’s just living the y/n life
username: REAL
yourusername posted to their story!
trans. for lyrics ; and i don’t care if i’m younger than you
liked by yourusername, georgerussell63, and 1,230,937 others!
lewishamilton: heard she likes señores [sirs]
tagged; yourusername
yourusername: sir lewis hamilton 🧎♀️🧎♀️🧎♀️
landonorris: i can’t take you calling him sir every 5 seconds pls stop i beg
georgerussell63: ‘yes, sir’ THERE ARE CHILDREN HERE ( lando )
landonorris: wait-
yourusername: sorry not sorry, unless you’re a sir you wouldn’t get it 😁
lewishamilton: what she said😁
yourusername: mi amor, te quiero 💗 [my love, i love you]
lewishamilton: i love you🩷
username: idk if i want him or her tbh🙇♀️🙇♀️
username: she’s so😍😍
username: i’d call him sir any day i get her fr
username: they’re such an attractive couple😩
username: how’d lewis bag her im being so fr
username: bc they’re both fine as fuck 😍
username: mis padres [my parents]
username: mami y papi fr [mommy & daddy]
liked by lewishamilton, lilymhe, and 1,023,044 others!
yourusername: no me importa q usted sea mayor q yo. [i don’t care if you’re older than me]
tagged; lewishamilton
lewishamilton: wait, when did you take the second picture?
yourusername: baby i got a whole folder of those type of pictures, i take them every chance i get
username: SHARE W THE PUBLIC HELLO??
yourusername: y/n.jpg but it’s just pics of lewis’ back
lewishamilton: i love you❤️
yourusername: i love youuuu💗
username: the hand pics i’m going insane 😵💫🥴
username: ou that back pic, i’m going ferallll
lilymhe: omg bae stop posting pics of me 🙈🙈🙈
yourusername: ur too cute my bad😪
lewishamilton: stop stealing my gf
alex_albon: gf stealer !
username: the 3rd pic🥹🥹
username: yall need a third??
username: i can take them both ( not in a fight )
georgerussell63: if only he could look at me like he looked at u in the last picture 🕊️🕊️🕊️
lewishamilton: i will if you look like y/n
yourusername: my bad i’m too cute 😁
carmenmmundt: merc double dates now??
yourusername: uh duh, merc wags stick together 🫶
#f1 scenario#formula one imagines#formula one imagine#f1 imagine#f1 smau#f1 x reader#f1 scenarios#formula one social media au#formula one smau#formula one x reader#formula one scenarios#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton smau#lewis hamilton social media au
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She’s Trouble
(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)
Summary: Tired of trailing behind, feeling like you don’t matter much, you decide that 86’ isn’t only going to be your bestfriend’s year.
Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader
Word count: 16,185
Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of drug usage, blood, NSFW, smut, drinking, Eddie is angry and sad in this, masturbation, slight voyeurism, breeding kink, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, angry sex, creampie, angst, fighting, rough sex, Dom!Eddie, and MORE!
A/N: I started writing this based off the scene of Eddie smirking at the cheerleaders he lets by after his cafeteria speech. And, well… it’s spawned itself a new life and turned into a whole lot more than I planned. But so is the life of an author, am I right? ;) Eddie is a dick in this, Reader is a lot more vocal than I’ve written before. I wanted to do something a bit different and I hope this accomplishes my mission?
I wanna thank @littledemondani for helping me out of my brain fart on which direction to take this! Also, do check out her masterlist, which is pinned at the top of her blog (it won’t let me link it here). She’s an incredible author and a fellow Eddie Munson slut, and one of my longtime best-friends! ♥️
Side note: I’ve also shifted a few things in the timeline of the show, for obvious reasons. The whole Eddie/Chrissy thing doesn’t happen on the same night as in the series. Chrissy and the reader have a good interaction and Eddie is a dickhead, but his reasoning will be explained. Also, while the reader is wearing a bustier top, this is an all inclusive fic, where the reader can be anything you imagine! I believe anyone can wear anything that they choose to—regardless of their size, so don’t let that bit of the story deter your perception, as I’ve left it open-ended! ;)
Enjoy! I’ve got a lot coming up soon! Part twos of multiple fics, prompts, plus other goodies! <3 - Kristen
~*~
You watch the way that he tries to be cute and coy towards them, attempts to impress with a dramatic wave through of his hand. Short skirts, tight little tops, bouncing ponytails, and a shitload of generic gossip on their painted lips—they pass by, everything included but those damned pom poms. Apparently they are giddy at his little show of calling out every group but your own in the cafeteria. Your eyes roll so hard that you feel a protesting sting, ignoring it to stab your fork into whatever creation is wiggling on your lunch tray. All the guys—freshman to seniors, and you—the only girl since founding, and Hellfire Club’s treasurer/manager to Corroded Coffin—make up the outsider table.
This year, however, you’ve felt so fucking off base with this group and their antics that you’re getting exhausted pretending to care about their shit when they don’t respect you or yours. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are always the sweetest to you, even with Lucas joining a sport, he’s still quick to always give you a smile and a nod whenever you pass him in the halls. They’re young, unlike Eddie and the older guys. You’re finally a senior this year, but still behind your bestfriend by a year in age. All this used to be okay, Eddie multiplying how much he repeats the grade, you trailing behind him like a lost puppy without any brain of her own, but now—it’s unbearably smothering.
And thus, it’s been building. You’re over bringing chips that are from your personal stash and using your gas to go buy smokes with your small work paycheck, or clean equipment for Eddie’s band, or stay up all night just to design campaign posters for Eddie, only for him to be so fucking stoned that he doesn’t even appreciate it, nor remember it.
“Fucking fake losers,” Jeff mutters.
“So fake,” Gareth agrees, both looking towards Eddie as he settles himself back down, wiggling his brows at you.
It’s an unsettling pressure that boils inside you, crackling, and as soon as you look into your best-friend’s brown doe eyes—it all comes apart. “You wanna talk about fake?” Your chest pumps a rush of adrenaline, helping careen the words off your tongue before you can stop them. Everyone’s attention snaps quicker than you’re prepared for, eyes wide and shocked. Sure, you’re vocal and sassy, but never outwardly angry. “The fact that all of you will condemn the basketball players, but would give up any of your seats at our table for one of the bitches in a skirt that they chase, if they popped their gum or batted an eyelash. You’d all be a bunch of drooling, little horndogs.” You can feel your heart racing with each pronunciation of a word, rising from your seat, knuckles white from gripping the edges of your yellow tray so hard.
You hear Dustin whisper a ‘whoa’, but your vocal vomit doesn’t stop.
“Frankly? I’m fucking sick of all this.” You pick the tray up and slam it down for good measure, unwrapping your messenger bag from around your seat, and you leave the table of gaping young men behind you, not even indulging yourself in Eddie’s bugged out, concerned stare.
You don’t even have time to throw your bag across your chest, when Jason Carver shouts out from behind you, “Damn, look at Munson’s slut go!”
It seems your group aren’t the only ones taking an interest in your outburst. Your breath is engorged in jagged pants of pitiful air, a fire coursing through you faster than you can handle, your skin singing, prickling with goosebumps. Your cheeks redden in humiliation, your feet swiveling and carrying you, fast and quick to their table, you throw your bag off, body like some damned slow motion track. Everyone notices Eddie’s antics, but you’ve never garnered any attention. It’s a surreal high.
Your combat boots click across the cement flooring, your hair like a dead weight across your back. Carver and his entire group are expectant, chairs scraping across to get out of your way. It’s all such a blur that you don’t even know your fist has collided with Jason’s face until you feel the pressure bite into your knuckles, a crunch beneath your force. He shrieks, his friends jumping to his aid, your stance shifting, ready to take anyone on. Your ears are bubbling with a murky static, applause in some direction, shouts in others.
Your name is being shouted from two different directions, the one you see stomping angrily towards you belonging to principal Higgins. He’s calling for help, shoving his finger in your face, motioning to your shirt. “This Hellfire Club does nothing but cause trouble!”
You snort, completely coming off your hinges, shaking the ends of your shirt, before stepping back and flinging it over your head, leaving you clad in your jeans and a leather bustier top no one could ever picture you owning. You’ve always kept your shit to a minimum to draw less attention, but you liked the support it provided your breasts with. You spin around, hands in the air, using the shirt as a lasso, tossing it at your old table. You begin to giggle, honestly wondering if you should visit the school nurse, but uncaring. Higgins is literally sputtering, making you snort, waving a hand. “I’m a slut, I’m trouble. Anyone have anything else to add? No? Yes?”
You bend back over to snatch your nap sack up, motioning to Higgins. “Lead the way to your office, Sir! Please fucking do.”
The pep in your step as your principal is angrily leading you from the masses is such a euphoric feeling, you’re sure you’ll never feel again in your life. You can taste the drama on your tongue’s tip. You don’t even spare your friends a glance, not wanting Eddie to have a morsel of satisfaction. This is your moment. Not as Eddie Munson’s best-friend, not as his groupie. As Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.
~*~
Eddie Munson has been clutching your discarded Hellfire shirt, doused in your perfume that is brimming his nostrils full, damn near trembling for the past twenty minutes that finish up lunch. He can’t move, that swelling between his legs keeping him glued to his seat, all the images of your fist soaring into Jason Carver’s face, ripping off your clothing in front of Higgins and the entire damned school. He went from concerned, angry at how you acted, to so fucking turned on that his stomach knotted up, sucking him to where he’s seated, his cock throbbing in his jeans. He’s never seen you like this.
The guys are silent, unsure what to say, how to even go about comprehending the you they just saw, that even Eddie himself has never heard of. He knows one thing for sure—okay—two. He has to find out if you’re okay and what’s going on.
~*~
You roll your eyes at the lovely note, signature of a three day suspension secured by Higgins at the bottom. Crumbling it up, you slide it into your back pocket, rifling through your pin tattered bag for a cigarette. You already know where you’re gonna go, and it sure as hell isn’t home. No one is there and no one is gonna care about your minor indecency. You can forge your mom’s signature, much like you do every good grade you bring home that she’s never around to see, or every comment from a teacher about how your folks are missing out.
It’s quiet at your house, your space. You parents more or less sleep there when they’re not gone on business. Pinching the filter, you cup Eddie’s stolen Zippo, that ashy hiss helping beckon that sweet bitter taste in past your lips. You don’t desire that home front solace right now, craving different scenery.
Maybe I’ll get lost…
You feel like Hawkins is your oyster, and you’re eager to explore on your own terms, by yourself. You’ve got your smokes, your pocket knife, and a pen and paper. That’s enough for you to make a decision.
Skull Rock it is.
~*~
One thing about Indiana is the ever predictable bite of hot weather that March brings. Spring is automatically Summer in the Midwest, and this is no different. Your leather top had stuck to your skin in an uncomfortable crunching press, making you eventually discard it, leaving you topless, your only accessories a chain with your birthstone pendant and a thicker silver chain, with a cheesy little guitar charm (a present from Eddie) nestled between your breasts. Your form is shaped against the rock behind your bare shoulder blades, a cool sensation that has you tilting your head back, stretching your neck, treetops breezing above you—tall and luscious. You smile softly, undoing the flap on your bag and seeking out your Walkman and sunglasses.
In moments your eyelids are fluttering closed, shielded from sun rays, your Walkman clicking in place, readying Heart’s Barracuda to nick your ears, coasting in welcomed caresses. It’s not thick heavy metal, but it’s you. And in the serenity of these woods, another cigarette you allow yourself—you begin to drift off in a galactic solitude that is solely your own. You’d learnt how to count beats, read sheet music, even sing a few notes from Eddie, so getting into your song’s groove isn’t hard for you, your fingers wrapping around your chain, tapping underneath the swell of your breast along with the chorus. You’re off the precipice and gone, demolished to the point you don’t hear the familiar footsteps, the sound of your name, or leaves and dirt crunching beneath white Reeboks, nor do you hear a throat-deep groan at his discovery.
~*~
Eddie and you always share this in synch kinda shit, which creeps a lot of people in your circle out. Eddie, however, welcomes it today. When he couldn’t find you after abandoning his lunch, spent what was left of the day attempting, only for Henderson to tell him he’d heard you’d been suspended for a few days—he made it his personal goal to find you. Your parents are gone so he knows the times you do and don’t like to be at home by yourself. And with the way you lashed out at everyone, you won’t go anywhere he has easy access to.
That leaves one place. Skull Rock.
~*~
The drive feels shorter to Eddie this time, but the walk longer. He has to shed himself of his denim and leather, tossing it over his shoulder and clambering up the path towards finding you, keeping your club tee in his back pocket. The more he walks, the more he wishes he brought a drink or his smokes, which remain on his dash. If he’s wrong and you’re not here, he isn’t sure if this is reality anymore. This day has been one big mindfuck.
Thankfully, as he hears a loud tone droning over the clearing, a soft hum, his heart patters in his chest, nostrils inhaling sharply. He rounds the corner’s pathway, already calling your name, his eyes widening, jaw unhinged, fists clenching at his sides. You’re reclining against the boulder’s curve, black shades perched over your eyes, hair draped across your neck, your boot clad ankle crossed over the other, a cigarette perched into your puckering pair of lips, your layered chains swaying, slumbering against your skin, and fuck—your tits, Eddie winces, gripping himself to adjust—frozen.
He can’t not notice how your nipples are reacting to the air. He can’t not detail your shape, how your waist is formed, zeroing in on the baby bat you’d gotten to match his larger ones, inked into your ribcage, and he certainly isn’t forgetting your jeans that are settled over your hips. His eyes glaze over, heat prodding his flesh, shrouding him a veil of desire and raw ache. You don’t notice him, calls of your name falling on mainstream rock’s ears. He doesn’t think approaching you is smart, like a cat and mouse, your behavior for once—unpredictable.
Has Eddie just not been paying attention to you that much lately?
Suddenly, when he’s debating a cowardly retreat, baiting his internal monologue for an excuse, your audible gasp is heard, his name crushed between your gritted teeth.
Fuck.
~*~
In all of his glory—stands your best-friend. He’s balling and un-balling his fists, eyes darting rapidly, tongue sucking against his teeth, feet ready to carry him far away. And the more he avoids your stare, the angrier you get. So what, you’re not good enough to look at because your breasts are out? Modesty to a back burner, you take your crossed arms off your chest, scraping your smoke out on the rock, pushing your glasses into a perch upon your head, body facing Eddie as you stand.
I dare you.
Your eyes complicate a challenge—craving him in your proximity, and hating his grunge blanketed sight. Eddie’s neck is a really pretty thing when he tenses, his jugular agitated against a harsh gulp of air. He answers you by meeting you in the clearing, palms sweaty, scrubbing over his back pockets. It’s a cool damned drink of water, as if you’ve been without, making thee Eddie Munson squirm. But he’s still your best-friend, and you are half naked.
Covering yourself back up so he will look you in the eye, you tuck your arms into a push beneath your sternum, forearms shielding your nipples. It’ll have to do.
“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing here?” You snap before he can voice a concern or a question.
Tethered to deep breathing techniques, Eddie is insulted, and is biting back in his acidic response. “After your own personal talent show antics at school, I was worried about you. Excuse-the-fuck-outta-me, Y/N.”
A bitter laugh comes from you. “Oh, you’re focused enough on my shit to actually be worried about me? How kind of you, Edward Munson.”
“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be worried about you?” Eddie is raising his voice, sizzling in a cautious rage. He’s usually happy-go-lucky with you, but you’re pushing these fucking buttons he isn’t aware he’s been hiding.
“You really need a list of reasons? Wait,” you say, moving to circle him, pinching your thumb between your teeth, “you’re probably, completely oblivious, because I’m just Y/N. I’m not your club, not your band, not one of your groupies that flounce around for an ounce from you, then leave your ass for their jock boyfriends.”
“Whoa, whoa!” Eddie raises a hand, rings clattering together. “When the fuck did all this start, Y/N?”
Your arms fall back at your sides with a loud ‘thump’. The heating has settled, your high wearing off, truth remaining as to why you’ve been upset in the first place. A caverning hurt carves its place into your chest, igniting an anguish that drowns you. You’re defeated. “It started when my best-friend forgot that I’m my own person and not his servant. Or maybe it began when my person was so stoned that he barely acknowledged a test I fucking flunked to stay up and make his campaign posters—which, may I add—he also gave zero fucks about-“
“So all this is because I didn’t kiss the very ground you walk on for some posters that you practically begged me to make, and wow—your A+ average went to an A. Curse me into the deepest depths of hell, please.” His bracelet slides down his wrist as he palms his heart.
Maybe you’re not the only one who is changing. Eddie hasn’t ever disregarded you in such a crude manner. Your tongue is practically salivating in need to layer on biting and cruel words, things you won’t be able to come back from. You remain silent, mulling over what to say, glaring, docked, stinging prickles of tears. It’s an elating elevation when the words do come. “I’m your best-friend, Eddie. Not your little groupie. I’m tired of you preaching about conformity, when all I do is conform to you. You don’t ever let me pick music, you always take for granted I’ll give you and the guys rides when your van isn’t working, despite if I might have something to do that doesn’t involve an all male ensemble. I spend my money to buy you cigarettes and snacks for the meetings. I manage gigs, I clean your band’s equipment.”
Eddie sniffs, looking pointedly at you, doe eyes dark and growing increasingly fed up. “Didn’t know you were keeping a tally, Y/N.”
“That’s… That’s all you’re taking from everything I just said to you, Eddie?” You can’t keep that hurt out of your tone this time.
Eddie shrugs, crossing his arms, coldly spitting out, “Seems to me like you’re sick of me. And that’s not my problem, that’s yours.”
Your head is swimming in turmoil, all your acting out and emotions swirling into a mindfuck. He doesn’t care. You’re standing here finally pouring your entire soul out in heaps and your person is pouring gasoline on the pieces, dangling a match.
“I’ve never kept a tally, Eddie. I do these things because they make you happy, and that makes me happy, but it fucking sucks when you don’t appreciate them or care about anything in my life, either.”
“That’s what you really think, Y/N?” There’s a flatline in how he’s speaking to you.
“No,” you murmur, “it’s what I know.”
Eddie’s jaw clenches, teeth grinding. He kicks at the ground with the toe of his shoe, brows raising. “Breaking Jason Carver’s nose and my cold, dead heart.” He splays a hand across his chest. Those rings, which are always a comfort to you, reflecting off the sunlight, dripping in judgement.
Your trembling wavers, crackling sentence structure falling apart. “Eddie. Don’t.”
“No. Fuck you, Y/N. Seriously, fuck you!” He shouts, snapping a finger in your direction.
Your hands rub up and down your goosebump soaked skin, finalizing what you need to do. Heaving in a deep breath, a sentence escapes your lips. And you pray, pray Eddie will heed this warning and value what you have enough to understand, to work it out. “Maybe it’s time to fess up to the fact that 86’ needs to be a bigger year for us both.”
Mind reader. A power you’ve never wanted more than in this moment as you claw at the cusp of your best-friend’s reaction. Outwardly, Eddie shifts, Adam’s apple bobbing, thumb swiping underneath his nose. Your mouth waters, throat reflexes threatening a fountain of vomit. And Eddie takes your warning, slaying through it, every bit of ground beneath your boots threatening to cave in.
“You’re right. Hell, Carver is right. You do act like my slut. And you have every right to change it, because it’s only holding us both back. And it probably has been for a long time.”
Kicking you would’ve hurt less. You’re unable to see Eddie’s form longer, muddled to a watery silhouette, your brave bravado dissipating. You won’t beg him. You’re nothing to him anymore, he’s just confirmed. You try not to think about the first time he taught you how to dance before your first snowball, or how you both snuck Jim Hopper’s cigarettes when you’d get in trouble at school and be sent to see him for minor misdemeanors, or Eddie’s pride when he managed to get you on stage to sing one song with the band, rubbing circles on your back the whole time you both sang to a trio of drunks, or splitting beers on his van’s roof and nearly breaking limbs when it started raining and you had to climb down, how he taught you to drive in the fancy neighborhood and you knocked over the mayor’s mailbox, when you watched him buy his ‘sweetheart’, tears in his eyes at a possession so gorgeous and all his own, his hands gentle as they held you the nights you cried from one stupid thing that felt massive to you, when he was your person and you were his.
Your wet, quivering breaths are what you hear. Birds chirping, wind rustling, even Eddie’s heavy breathing drowned out. It takes what feels like eternity, before Eddie is slashing the quiet, guarded and stoic. “You need to put a fucking shirt on.”
Your jeans are covered in tear drops from a bowed head, fingers shaking hard enough that your knuckles roll into a crack at the motions. You wipe your tears in time to see Eddie hold out your Hellfire shirt—second edition—his being the first. His reverie breaks briefly, and you think… maybe. It’s gone in those brown eyes that you can no longer read or recognize. Filled with loathing and disgust at you, his last words imprinting on your psyche, a physical recoil.
“On second thought. You won’t be needing this anymore.” Eddie makes his way around you and finds his lighter atop your bag, flicking a flame to life and nudging it at the end of your shirt. It catches quick, burns fast, like every fiber of friendship with Eddie Munson.
Eddie tosses the tattered, charred remains to the forrest floor, pocketing his lighter, walking away from you and out of your life.
~*~
He can’t stay any longer and watch you fall apart, not when he’s running away from his cowardice. And he does, run. He moves and clambers, stumbles until he’s from you and the cries that he hears pour off your lips. His chest is thumping sporadically, pulse in his blurry vision. His five fingers catch a tree, slamming, splintering, a sob breaking free of his tear soaked lips.
Eddie Munson forces himself to remember how unsure you looked in your dress when he held you around your waist, never feeling more himself in his entire life than he did with you— at thirteen—during some cheesy school dance, how you entertained his tunes so he could teach you the counting method he uses for his music to move your feet to the beat, all your encouragement every time he hit a new note, or your midnight phone calls to ask what he’d like on his posters, your body trusting him to keep you safe on those nights when everything became too much for you in your life, but you had tried to hide it, or when you both snuck in to see Carrie when you were pre-teens and you couldn’t sleep without him, so he made a makeshift mattress next to your bed for a month, about that time you were so tired from an all nighter that he had walked into his room and found you curled up in his bed, using his vest as a makeshift pillow, your nagging him to study more, because he’s always capable of anything he sets his mind to, and those cookies—the only thing you can bake without having to call for Hawkins fire department—a container you’d brought for him and his Uncle, still sitting on his kitchen counter.
He was your person and you were his. And now? You’re gone. Eddie runs away. He keeps running, leaving you to your own miserable anguish, drowning in his own, getting himself in his rust bucket and going back to his trailer to get completely fucked outta his not-so-right mind.
~*~
By the time your suspension is over and you can no longer barricade yourself into your room and finish off another bottle from your dad’s liquor cabinet—it’s sheer dread. You’re not only the freak who broke Hawkins Highschool’s Prom King’s nose, but you’re the freak without anyone by your side—a true and thorough outsider. As you stand outside your school, nails pinching into already weakened threads dedicated to your bag’s strap, you’re really regretting those couple of drinks this morning and how you’d poured more vodka into a flask to take your Tylenol with. Hell, it’s not like you can get a fix from the school dealer anymore, is it?
Those damned double doors are louder, a jolt to your already throbbing headache, fluorescent lights sparkling in your retinas through your shades that cover a nursing hangover and distraught, red and puffy eyes from a three day sob fest. Each step your boots make sounds like you’re walking to your death, your outfit—sans any Hellfire related attire—is all yours. Your two chains limited to one, Eddie’s gift waiting in a cardboard box you’d half-assed assembled, and tossed in random shit he’d given you. The deeper you get into every hallway, making simple turns you know like the back of your hand, your nausea grows as to what might be awaiting around each corner. Or who. It’s a short lived relief upon arrival at your locker.
You pinch your shades off, raw eyes protesting the moment fresh tears staple your skin in brushes. In red letters, diagonally capitalized across your door contains what you haven’t wanted to face since it happened.
The freak got dumped
You choke on your salvia, throat wet and enduring a suffocation strong enough to have you gagging on the piece of toast and water you’d forced your famished form to consume this morning. You barely make it into the toilets before double over and expelling everything, diaphragm on fire, bones vibrating through tosses. Hair dangling in your face, plastered to your mouth, you sniffle and tremble, vision blurring. You ponder getting yourself fucking expelled, but you made this whole ordeal about it being your year. If you retreat now, what will that do? Mustering all your strength, your courage, you flush your bile, clean off your mouth and face, pop a mint, take a swig out of your flask, and make your way to your first class.
~*~
By the ever popular lunch time, you have managed to clean your locker and pinpoint the culprit (an ashamed that a girl broke his nose, Jason Carver), but neither of you speak on it. You keep your head down, you focus on your school work, you take your Tylenol, and you sip on your vodka. Enough to keep an edge off, but not enough to send you down a despairing hole filled with regret and torment. You know you’re being stared at as soon as you hit the line to get your tray. It’s fake smiles and refusal to acknowledge it that gets you in search of an aisle, and hopefully out of sight. You aren’t so lucky…
“Hey, Y/N! Over here!” You hear an all too cheery voice belonging to Dustin Henderson. It halts you in your tracks, a wince causing a physical recoil.
It’s not his fault you and Eddie no longer have anything resembling a relationship, and he apparently has not told them, and they’ve not seen Jason Carver’s masterpiece.
Good.
What isn’t good is that Eddie is very much at your old table and you know it’s unavoidable. You wished you had borrowed some concealer for your under eyes, but it’s too late. There’s a grand staircase cloaked in invisibility beneath your feet, your stomach knotting in crushing vices, your cheeks stained with red. You walk to your former friend group, trying like hell not to side eye Eddie Munson. Keeping a steady focal point without blinking against your scratchy lower lids is damn near impossible. And guys are going to be guys—much to your chagrin. Gareth is drawing further attention where nothing needs to be, popping off with a, “Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”
“A week long bender,” Jeff chimes in.
Biting the inside of your cheek between your teeth, you shrug a shoulder. Better them having knowledge of your binge drinking celebration than knowing about how messed up you are.
Don’t look at Eddie. Is your mantra for today.
He, on the other two hands, is not prioritizing that same aspect.
“So what if I did? I know of about ten girls who can drink your asses under the table, myself included.” You smirk, gripping your tray’s edge.
“Been holding back on us?” Gareth is grinning from ear to ear. It eases your shouldered weight tremendously, breaking tension in your table’s ranks.
“You gonna have a seat or what?” Mike Wheeler interrupts, his hands flipping towards a desired target, one that you wish you could keep pretending you never knew.
Fuck it.
You really crave for some divine intervention to help you, because meeting those chocolate brown eyes that are distraught, angry, and rimmed red—your heart constricts to painful blows, windpipes crushed beyond speaking capabilities. Eddie’s been somewhere off planet earth with that kinda high, you remember seeing his demeanor that way only a handful of times, including this one. Maybe he does care? No, doesn’t matter, don’t go there. It’s over and done.
Still, that idiotic, massively moronic part that Eddie owns of you—it’s billowing hope. Eddie Munson dashes it in seconds flat.
“No.”
You glance away, jaw twitching to control an automatic quiver. Dustin is laughing it off as a joke, someone else asking why. Eddie reclines his legs in your empty chair, loud enough to get your attention back. He wants me to see.
“No traitors.” It’s a simplistic answer, aggressive, no room to argue.
Ever-the-curious-freshmen, Dustin and Mike peg their leader for questions. You halt it, tone breaking apart, fingers tucking into your shirtsleeve as you balance your lunch on one hand and wipe across raw flesh to clean fresh tears from your eyeline. That’s when Eddie does look away.
Coward.
“It’s okay, guys.” Is what you say.
“What’s going on?” Gareth asks.
“I won’t be around meetings or practices anymore, but I’m still here if anyone needs anything, okay? You know where my locker is, and where I live.” You pat yourself on the back for that robotic but truthful statement.
“Unless you’re sick of everyone else too…” His deep voice rumbles.
Like a deer in headlights— you’re frozen, a blinding rage of hurt and red hot anger pouring over you in a storm. You explode. Picking up the first thing in your sight, which happens to be on your plate—a glob of some chocolate goop (possibly a brownie)—it’s slung directly at your former best-friend’s crisp white Hellfire shirt. Your second cafeteria incident that, yet again, everyone notices. Eddie yelps, shouting out your name in brisk spits.
You further it, abandoning your food in a repeat of days ago, floating to his side and shoving him back two steps. Eddie stops his rapid shirt swipes and immediately presses his form into yours, chests smashed, food squishing through your top. His hair is frazzled from the humidity, his toffee colored irises slowly polishing into a thick black gloss of dilated pupils. He sucks his tongue against his teeth, swaying into you, not touching you with those hands, an air about him that is beginning to swarm your initial reaction and bend it over, fucking it into the next decade. He’s taller than you remember, but you latch onto your own, tasting that cigarette soaked breath, lips hovering over his, hot tears matting your lashes.
Whether it’s regarding his inability to respond to your reasoning for this whole situation, his lack of expression, your self-disappointment for something roused inside you at his huffing proximity, you crown him with a title off a jagged voice box, damp in her sorrows, just as Dustin steps between you two, gently prying. “You’re a fucking coward, Eddie Munson.”
Teachers are starting to flock in, and you shake your head, hand over your eyes briefly, before sprinting in strides from the room in search of a place to collapse.
~*~
If you had told yourself at the beginning of the school year that you’d be in a camaraderie with the girl’s bathroom—you would have laughed. And if your mind had convinced you otherwise, you’d have expected Eddie to be right beside you, arm around your shoulders, sharing his lunch, making stupid jokes, coming up with lame ideas to make you feel better, but in that endearing Eddie Munson kinda way. You let out a soft cry, giving up on that stinging beneath your lids. You’re a hot mess and the whole building probably knows how alone you really are now. When the outcasts cast you out, where else can you go?
Clenching onto the sides of the ceramic sink, bag slipping off your shoulder and onto the floor, you keep your head bowed between your shoulder blades, not noticing someone come in and approach you, a gentle set of fingers laying upon your shoulder. Through foggy vision you can make out the green colors of her uniform and her perfectly straight ponytail, her face seemingly concerned. Your laugh is exhaustion on steroids, expression bombarded with emotion. “Okay, what the fuck is next? A girl craves some independence and the whole school turns against her. Let me guess, your boyfriend sent you to get even? Why don’t I make it easy for you and you can call your friends in here, and… and—“
Great.
Your lungs start to burn, your ribcage pounding with an erratic heartbeat, throat feeling like it’s been dusted with a thick blanket of ash. You’re panicking in front of Chrissy Cunningham. That alone has you feeling more pathetic than ever before in your life, and it worsens your heaving sobs—broken and unguarded. Chrissy’s eyes are drinking you in, irises glossing over with tears of her own. She grasps your other shoulder and squeezes, not releasing her hold on you, her soft voice strong when she speaks, but gentle enough between the expanse of your shared airspace.
“One, two, three, four. Okay, now deep breath in, and release it for me, Y/N.” She’s actually calming you, keeping you steady on your feet, which feel as if they’re sinking into the flooring below like led weights.
“Chrissy…” You aren’t sure how to articulate, still alarmed and attempting to breathe with her.
“I’m right here. Just keep breathing and counting with me.” And you do. And that’s when it hits you.
She has experience with this mind numbing panic too. That otherworldly anxiety. You feel a connective pull towards the cheerleader—seeing—not this persona you’d imagined, but her calming features, her easy going manner towards you, how she lets you find your lifeline, but also lends you her own in case you need it. When your breathing slows, she gives you a look, a silent communication of question. You may be able to breathe a little easier now, but it doesn’t stop the weight of your situation from crashing down and demolishing what’s left of you.
“Can I… I’m gonna hug you, is that okay?” At this point, if she’s going to put a sign on your back you don’t care. You need the human connection, the comfort. You agree and your schoolmate takes you into a light grip, but folds her arms around you and lets you bury your cheek against her perfumed sweater.
You both stand in the embrace, no trace of awkwardness, a sense of kinship and knowing. It’s when you pull back that hint of a questionable concern with her, wiping your sore eyes with a hiss. She notices.
“Are you here because of Jason? I just need to know.”
“Jason was a dick, Y/N.” Her language shocks you, having only heard her be proper before.
You laugh, your first genuine giggle in days. It’s contagious, as she joins in, hip jutting against the sink. “No, I’m here on my own terms. I promise. I saw what happened with your friends…”
“Yeah, I can imagine how everyone must be amused right now.” You bite your lip, facing away.
Chrissy gives you a saddened smile, but attempts to reassure. “I know this is gonna sound incredibly lame coming from me, but you’re stronger than all this, Y/N. The way you’ve stood up for yourself these past several days… I admire it.”
You frown deeply, wondering if this is a trick, because no way is Chrissy Cunningham admiring someone like you.
“You admire a loser that can’t even manage her own newfound independence?”
“No,” she says with a pause, looking down at her French tip manicure, before facing your curious gaze once more. “I admire your ability to stand up for yourself, despite what everyone is saying or doing to you. It’s a good quality to have, one that many of us are afraid of, you know?”
There’s this hollow pain in her eyes and your continued recognition has you pulling her in for another hug—this time for her benefit, rather than yours.
“Looks like we’ve fallen into the cliché trap, Cunningham.” You grin, pulling back.
Chrissy tilts her head, curious. “What do you mean?”
“A freak and a cheerleader thinking the same as what their peers think, and getting each other totally wrong.”
Her sweet eyes light up, her head nodding. “That’s exactly it.”
You share a knowing smile, a newfound bond forming. Chrissy situates her small shoulder bag, pulling out a compact and tugging you by your sleeve. “C’mhere. Let me fix that.”
She takes a gentle hand, not rushing as she speckles your sore under eyes with her own stash of makeup. After she blends it with soft fingertips, she snaps the lid closed and places it back in her bag, turning you to the bathroom mirror, brushing some of your hair through, giving your back a rub. “Is that any better, Y/N?”
Your circles are mostly covered, puffiness disguised enough where you won’t be embarrassed. You look and feel much better, and you’re overwhelmed with gratitude for the blonde at your side. You incline yourself into a swivel, leaning in her direction. “Chrissy Cunningham, I think you’re one of the sweetest people I now kinda, sort of know.”
Her giggle is infectious, and she gives you another squeeze. You drop down to swoop your messenger bag into your arms, grabbing out a your notebook and a pen, scribbling your home phone on it, hesitating, before handing it over. “If you ever need to talk to someone about all the bullshit, whatever it is, consider me your new confidant.”
She holds the simple sheet paper as if it’s another lifeline and you’ve just given her a treasure. Going back into her own bag, she has a cute little pink embroidered stationary paper that she jots her number on, and uses a smiley face to dot the i in Chrissy. Seconds later, her friends and a group of other girls burst into the bathroom, gossip on their lips. You and Chrissy flash each other a secret smile, and you make another hasty retreat.
~*~
Eddie had to hear a bunch of shit from the guys, overly bearing questions sounded off by Henderson and Wheeler. The eventual revealing by a passerby group of cheerleaders about your specially decorated locker, had surprised him too. As if there’s not already a weighted dagger wedged into his ribcage, one interlocking into his heart muscle—he lost control with his bitter mouth again, and it fueled your temper. But deep down, deeper into those subconscious recesses, you both felt that ignition start, a kind of coercing heat that is waging an internal war in Eddie’s head. His sole reason for blocking you out and refusing to talk about anything with you in the woods.
Eddie Munson is in love with you. Eddie Munson needs to fuck you.
It’s something he’s always done—built walls, got high, stayed drunk, coped with humor, hid behind his guitar or his campaigns. And without his right hand woman, he feels naked, too vulnerable to all the bullshit he’s tried to keep out. And your absence has become a set course for his weakening concentration on anything that isn’t you. His ultimate warrior princess is also his Achilles heel. Your feelings in wanting to branch out, they scare Eddie.
His brain is flipping logic into thinking you are seeing what everyone else sees in him: freak, failure, piece of shit, a nobody, a criminal. He pushed you out before he could pull you back in—easy, abrupt. And it’s not just changing him—no—he could smell your vodka soaked breath across the table, see your eyes swollen and glazed—absent. For the first time in years you weren’t wearing your limited edition shirt (thanks to him), and Eddie isn’t sure why he expected you to still have his chain around your neck. It fucking hurts.
As the room slowly falls back into their daily routine, Eddie loses his appetite and leaves his herd behind, urgent to get the fuck outta this building, out of Hawkins. Hell, maybe even the country. Like you, however, Eddie Munson’s retreat isn’t one that is unscathed. In his urgency, he smacks straight into you, stumbling over his own clumsy ass feet, gripping your forearms to keep you both steady. He’s processed your scent before he even takes in your beautiful features.
Fuck…
You look less like you’ve been partying all weekend, but Eddie knows better. Your pupils are dilated to the bright overhead lights of the hallways, making your sclera more visible. It’s bloodshot red, lower lids swollen and tinged a rough crimson beneath the fresh makeup that Eddie now sees. He swallows and looks away, but he doesn’t let you go. His grip isn’t harsh, it’s simply what it’s always been with you two. Easy and sturdy, safe.
You’re the first to downcast your gaze, focusing more on your shoe wear than on Eddie. It kills him. Even through these notions, this fear, whatever anger you’re both harboring, it’s as if this whole damned school and everyone passing you two are mere bodies, Eddie Munson and Y/N Y/L/N floating, tethered. His stomach churns its lunch contents, teeth clenching tightly. You make a brisk dart off, but Eddie attempts to catch you, instead tugging too hard on your shoulder strap, causing your bag to dump and spread out its contents at his sneaker clad feet.
Eddie’s eyes are quick to see it before you realize. Shining underneath hallway lights, scattered amongst notebooks and pens, is a small flask. His brows perch, he crouches first, scooping it away from your jutting hands. Gareth’s words rewind and play on repeat in his head.
“Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”
The way his heart rate spikes, hostilely spitting that acid all over his lungs, battering his throat muscles with a pummeling storm. He’s already sure what he’ll smell if he presses the lid to his nostrils, but Eddie has to feed his anxious curiosity, unscrewing the cap with nervous hands, sniffing, shrugging off your grabs. It burns his mouth from its strength, his distraction giving you enough leeway to wrap your hands over his fingers and pull. Eddie locks your digits within his own, second thoughts gone. Against everything inside him he is getting angrier by the second, the anger masking itself, easier than being petrified and scared in front of you.
And Eddie is scared. Is he really so fucking stupid to think you weren’t at all affected by any of this?
“What the fuck, Y/N?” Your fingers sliding through his own, flood him, prickling every vein running beneath his skin, cutting off his blood flow—scorching.
~*~
Having Eddie’s hands on you again, his body so close, despite your shame at his discovery, it’s a feeling that comes more natural than breathing. You avoid his question, feeble grasping docked.
“Why do you have a flask full of fucking vodka?”
“Will you keep your voice down!” You hiss the words, finally breaking off him and retrieving the rest of your items on the scuffed up floor, and securing them back into your bag, Eddie holding back your liquor.
“Did you drive to school drinking this crap? Tell me you didn’t, Y/N, cause’ I swear to god—“
You chortle, a humorless boom smacking across your chest.
“Eddie, this faux best-friend act is getting old. Your on and off switch is enough to drive anyone to drastic measures. But don’t flatter yourself into thinking I’d be an idiot and drive drunk. Not even for you.”
His irises that are glossy with concern, they cave to dilating pupils, an animalistic rage priming them. “Oh, you have got to be the most clueless bitch alive, Y/N.” He steps towards you, frame towering slightly. You’re not afraid, never fearing if he’ll do something, because that is not Eddie, no matter what. But, you are very much dripping with rage at his words.
He pockets your flask in his left back pocket, rings clinking against it as he pats it for good measure. You try to dive around him, beneath his arm, but he swoops in on his own, using that strength for his slender frame, literally scooping you into a half bring-away, only discarding you back onto your feet once you’re both outside. You try to shove at him, palms resting on his stained club shirt. The bell has rang to signal your free period, but you don’t give two fucks, giving up and being the one to leave.
“Who’s the coward now, huh? You’re gonna walk away from me when I call you on your shit, Y/N?”
You spin on your heel, dirt and gravel specks crunched beneath your step. “I thought I was a clueless bitch, Eddie? A traitor? Or, your slut.” You scoff, crossing your arms.
Guilt briefly flickers across his features, but he shuts it down tenfold. “Just because we’re fighting doesn’t mean I want you to destroy your fucking liver or your life. Jesus Christ, you really think I’m that big of an asshole?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore!” You fling your hands into the air. “One minute we’re at each other’s throats, the next you’re up my ass. I don’t know what to do here, Eddie.”
“Thought you craved some individuality and independence.” Though there’s meant to be flare behind the words, Eddie’s tone has splintered across each word, voice breaking apart. Your guts sink into your ass, as does a particularly pointed swallow that stabs at your jugular.
“Didn’t say I wanted to be completely independent from my best-friend.” Your own response is gentle, voice soaked with impending emotion.
Fuck. Stupid fucking tears burning again. Not right now.
Eddie’s attention snaps back on you, proximity closing in. His jaw clenches, he moves it from side to side with a closed mouth, sniffing, whistling air through a wet breath. “Feels like you’re leavin’ me and I can’t do anything to stop it…”
It makes sense suddenly. A catapult of truth slamming right into your chest, spreading throughout your body.
He thinks I’m leaving him. That I want to leave him.
As if the last seventy two hours haven’t happened, better yet, as if they haven’t mattered in the grand scheme of things—you’re the one that meets Eddie, reaching to push that curly hair from his eyes, his head downcast and posture sullen. His brown eyes are brimmed with tears that spill over his lash line, a permanent frown creased between his brows, mouth red and spit slick. Those freckles on his nose are suddenly very prominent to you. You’ve never seen Eddie Munson this vulnerable. Your heart shatters, the ache so physically strong that you have to remain close to him to hold on and find that strength again.
How could you have gotten this so monumentally wrong? Maybe if you’d have expressed what you meant more instead of feeding off Eddie’s anger. His communication and yours both need nurturing, but your sudden shift in mood must’ve made him feel like you wanted to abandon him, not just do things for yourself. He may not realize that yet, but you do. And it fucking sucks.
“Eddie. I’m sorry.” It’s all you can say in the seconds that your heart heaves into your throat.
He shakes that shaggy mane. “Don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me, especially you.” He backs away from you and you see his entire expression crumble, tears spilling onto his cheeks.
That pain drowns your throat, seeing him cry because of your lack of explanation and mutual avoidance. You chase after him, running around to block his view, unable to let him go, gripping onto his waist beneath his jacket to keep him planted. Another familiarity. He tenses beneath your touch before relaxing.
“Eddie, will you please listen to me? I think I know what’s going on now.”
“And look who is the one flipping her emotions this time.”
“Because, I… Eddie, I—“
“What lame ass line do you want me to buy, Y/N? You think I’m not used to worthless promises or idiotic reassurances? Yeah, good.” His sentence is fragmented, voice rough and breaking apart on each word. “You know I still care about you, but I don’t need you to lie to me, you don’t owe me a damn thing, I promise you—“
You press a finger to his quivering lips, halting him. There’s a shift in the atmosphere, a pause in the universe, your legs heavy, fingertip stroking along the plumpness of your best-friend’s full, lower lip. Eddie’s chest is moving up and down swiftly, tongue against his teeth, that warning look. You fail to heed it and Eddie’s hands tremble at his sides before he gives up and cups the sides of your face, bringing your foreheads together. His lips part to speak, your finger still on them. “Think we’re in trouble here.”
You can do nothing but nod as his declaring statement, inclining your head further, nose nudging his own. It doesn’t feel as if you’re standing any longer, every mean thing that Eddie has said, every disproportionate attempt of yours to communicate—obliterate, shrouding you both in the process. His breath is hot as his mouth opens and he sucks your finger inside, tongue licking its tip, biting the digit between those milky white teeth. It sends that throbbing nudge, snapping between your thighs, making you arch into your best-friend. You whisper his name and his fingers move along your jaw, across your ear, sliding through your hair and rubbing a pathway to your necks’ nape, sending an army of goosebumps across your flesh, the coolness of his rings stimulating your skin.
“Yeah, you feelin’ it too?” Your lids flutter closed, Eddie using his thumb pad to brush the corners of your lashes, signally for you to open them. “Didn’t say you could stop looking at me, did I, sweetheart?”
You grind against him, unable to stop. Your last several days, everything between you both is on hold, these buried urges able to finally win out. This dominant side of Eddie Munson has you an inward and outwardly quickening pile of mush and hormones, of fucking need. Eddie about loses his cool when you obey him, pupils blown, mouth looking parched and in need of his kisses. He leans, walls starting to slip, resolve crumbling, his pouting mood long gone.
Years of built up tension and confusion, being rightfully by one another’s sides, it all comes apart, the seams, begging to be repaired into what it has to be now.
You envelop his hold on you, hands sliding into slips beneath his jacket, around his waist, tracing over his back, before dipping under his armpits and grasping his shoulders, knuckles pushed down by his leather jacket. One more step and he’ll kiss you. He’s closing a gap, no more breaches, you tapping his shoulders right down to the blades in encouragement. It’s parted mouths hovering over one another, cigarettes and vodka, school lunch and weed, it’s—
“Hey, guys! Higgins is so pissed off right now… After that shit went down in the caf, he’s ready to expel you, Y/N! Pretty fuckin’ sure.” You hear Gareth approach, and just like, Eddie releases you.
You have to steady yourself, want simmering into a slumber in your belly, not yet gone, but still reminding you where it lives. Your glare is directed at your mutual friend. Eddie, feeling as if he’s been doused with ice cold water, and the moment is shattered, you see those walls rebuilding rapidly, and she shrugs off your hand, leaving you and Gareth, and that slickness that has collected in your panties.
~*~
You aren’t sure just exactly what Eddie is feeling, but you’re very aware of what you are. So driving to his place once you know Wayne has left for the night shift—it’s a no brainer. You’d debated bringing Eddie your box of treasures, even your necklace, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Maybe, maybe your best-friend doesn’t want you to…?
Want.
A dynamic shift in your relationship, or what it used to be. You can barely sit still as you wrack your brain through all the levels of hazy blurs. So much has happened in three days, but… today, with Eddie nearly kissing you on the mouth, and you nearly grinding against him in the Hawkins High parking lot—yeah, you two have to talk about all of this. As you squirm in your seat, hands tightening around the wheel, that approaching trailer park sign signals your arrival to his residence. You can’t stop the way your heartbeat feels as if it’s ping ponging around in your throat, or that anxious twitch of your mouth’s corner—forget even attempting to deny your cascading memories of the way his chocolate irises wore an expression unlike anything you’ve ever seen on Eddie Munson.
His trailer comes into your sights, that tickle swooping your guts and holding them hostage. You swallow a thick ball of anxiety, parking next to his van, cutting your engine. The lights are all on and you’ve got no excuse to chicken out. It’s your year too, right? Fucking fuck it.
With your keys clutched in your palm, you make your way to Eddie’s trailer, rasping on his door lightly. You don’t hear his music blaring, so he might be reading, planning a campaign, writing some music he’d mentioned wanting to practice with the guys soon, get a feel for its sound—just last week. You have given about three octaves of knocks and are about to give up, head pressed the door, thinking he was just lost in lust earlier, and maybe you’d fucked up on your end beyond repair. Exhausted by the stampeding pain that brings your insides, you flip the Munson’s spare key off your key ring and unlock the door. A bold move—albeit—a very stupid one.
That familiar scent of Eddie and Wayne’s shared carton of cigarettes hits your nose, along with the leftovers from dinner you see sitting out on the stove. Your cookies, which have been devoured, are missing their note. You panic, briefly thinking Eddie probably trashed it, only to come back from that brink seconds later. It’s not what you’re here for. You glance at the couch and it’s empty, not even Eddie’s usual indent on the cushion is there.
Swinging your keys from your pointer finger, you peek down the small hallway to Eddie’s closed door, light spilling out underneath. He could be sleeping, possibly ignoring you, or he snuck out the back door…
Your feet make an echoing squeak across the trailer’s flooring structure, your fingers twisting the knob and pushing, pausing, deciding to go ahead. If he wants you to leave then you’ll go, if he’s asleep, you’ll go, if he left… You can’t fathom that thought, another ignorance that you partake in. You aren’t sure exactly what you expected, but seeing your best-friend’s tallish frame, with his back facing you, lean leg propped atop his mattress, right arm bent at a very clear angle, his left propped on one of his many amps he’d apparently moved since you’d been here last—is sure as hell NOT it. Eddie’s curly hair ruffles and is jostled across his shoulders with each movement his arm makes, his delicious ass clenching as his body thrusts into his rhythm, the outline of his chain on his perspired neck and damp strands of dark hair—clear. You don’t have to hear the thick, slick and wet stroking to know what he’s doing to himself.
You cross an ankle over the other, squeezing your legs together tightly, trying to bounce on the balls of your heels to get relief. Your fingers white knuckle his banged up door handle, your mouth parting. Whether it’s that bond you two share, or your very visible labored breathing, Eddie’s shoulder blades pinch together, his motions abruptly cut. He turns as if caught doing something he shouldn’t be—definitely something you aren’t prepared to handle. It’s like your mouth is speaking for you, eyes in a trance, enslaved to your lustful abiding.
Fucked out, blown up pupils shave off the color of your irises, your tongue gliding across your teeth, that take a turn to sink into your bottom lip, your toes curling in your shoes. You feel hot, body battered in melting flames that won’t cease, won’t let you get in a normal burst of air flow. You know without having to fix your posture that you’ve made a mess between your legs, panties soaked to hell—completely ruined. You’re honest to fuck not sure if you can make it out of here in an upright position, that painfully strong ache tackling your cunt, breaking off your common sense, leaving you Eddie-drunk. Helping yourself to a swiping look between his legs, he’s still got a ring clad hand wrapped around a very generous girth—shiny—a length that leaves saliva pooling on your tongue’s tip.
His chest is slick with sweat, tattoos glossed beneath, nipples hard from the cool air let into his bedroom. Which, you note, is really fucking hot, and the window is steamed up. Your eyelids flutter in rapid blinks to help you reign yourself in, but all you see are glimpses of Eddie’s fist around himself, that creamy and swollen head, full balls on either side, trimmed curls at the base of his shaft. You want to die. And oh, what a sweet and sinful death that would be.
“Mhm… fuck.” You say through the gap between your panting mouth, words take the opportunity to bust free, joining a high pitched whimper.
Eddie’s chocolate eyes are completely black, leaving no room for anything else but purely raw desire. They widen, a sharp heave in his inhaling chest, abdomen flexing as he holds himself tightly. When you don’t move Eddie takes the initiative, slowly approaching, a softness there beneath the want and knowing. He reaches your space, still giving you enough, but you’re able to still feel that radiating body heat. Neither of you speak, because what is there to say right now?
You’d be a pleading mess of profanities, apologizes, and begging to be taken and used.
Thankfully, Eddie makes another move before you. His spare hand joins your own on the door knob, fingers brushing your knuckles, encouraging, giving you one more opportunity if you’re in distress or uncomfortable. You hook onto his offer and you surprise you both by finding something to say after all, throat parched, yet still damp with wanton rasp. “Start touching yourself again, Eddie. Please?” Fuck, well there’s a beg.
Eddie, assuming you want a show, nerves being dipped in lava and left to forever sizzle and smoke—gives in, both of you shutting his door and closing the two of you off from the outside world. He doesn’t wait for you to back away, pushing his hips to a rise, his cock gliding through his closed fist. You let him lean over you, frame against his door, watching his legs spread to widen his stance, obeying your plea. He almost asks, but assumes it would be too hopeful if you would want to touch yourself in front of him too. You’re out of your mind, common sense obliterated for all eternity, watching your bestfriend practically pin you to the door and fuck himself in front of you.
Those sounds you’ve imagined, pictured, they’re even more pronounced in person. Some low enough that it’s a stifling whimper, a needy sobbing. If you don’t do something about the gnawing throbbing between your thighs, it’ll be total combustion. There’s an empowerment that winds itself around a pulsating set of nerves in one’s decision to masturbate in front of their best-friend. That coolness works itself in your palms, your fingers tossing your keys over and onto Eddie’s dresser, toeing off your shoes, his eyes steamy in their grasp on your every move.
You’d wished you had brought your camera to photograph his expression when you walk over to where he stood in front of his bed, turning to face him, your fingers undoing your jeans and the zipper, a resounding echo in the room, Eddie’s tongue poking out on his upper lip, he holds himself around the base, the urgency to fuck his hand as you take your seat on his mattress and scoot with your back to the wall, hips lifting to help you pull off your jeans and panties. You struggle momentarily, but neither of you are saying a word, gazes steady and unwavering.
Discarding your clothing with a soft thump onto his floor, you’re heartbeat thumps in your throat, ribcage taking an unsteady hammering of its resounding drumming. You heed Eddie’s silent command to continue, agreeing to this turning point between you two. Your thighs fall open and that sticky want strings to your swollen folds, glistening in the creases of your thighs, your cunt sopping wet. You’re dripping, and Eddie isn’t missing it when your arousal finally does drizzle from your neglected pussy and onto his bedsheets. You shift to get comfortable, hand cupping yourself, immediately smothered in your own juices, legs falling into a drop, toes finally able to curl without the barrier of your shoes, bunching Eddie’s sheets.
Eddie watches you from where he can see, still eager to be closer, but unable to stop himself from stroking along his length, teasing that vein that runs alongside his cock. You do it again, rubbing your palm up and down your lips, a crude squelch causing Eddie to almost black out, and you shiver. He releases himself, heavy and hot between slim thighs, and he’s moving. He puffs out a gravelly hiss from pursed lips, stalking towards you and giving a cat like crawl across his own bed, planting himself shoulder to shoulder with you to your left. He must be feeling the overwhelming change that is occurring, as he reaches for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.
You gravitate towards your hand, fingers slipping through your slickness, your head bowing in embarrassment. Eddie grips your chin and tilts you his way, shaking his head, that same hand dropping to your thigh and lifting to pull up and to the side. And he looks. He fucking memorizes you between your legs with these little mewling coos of appreciation that cement themselves into your subconscious. You do the same, helping yourself to an up close and personal view of what he’s been hiding.
Eddie leans forward and cups the nap of your neck, his other hand taking your wrist and removing it from your self-touches, shushing your protesting whine. He brings it up to his mouth, which is hovering close to yours, your own fingers pressed against your lips, and he licks a straight stripe up your creamy covered palm, humming underneath his breath as he does so. You want to slap him and ride him on every available surface in this trailer. You’re the one to speak, having to.
“Eddie…” It’s a meek little trail-off.
Eddie lets go of your wrist and uses that hand to pull his cock off his stomach, a wet patch left behind in his happy trail. He still doesn’t let your neck go, his fingertips tapping an invisible beat, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He’s laughing, tufts of air settling across your mouth. You narrow your gaze, moving to shut your legs, Eddie’s hand quickly preventing the action, stroking the meat of your inner thigh. “Only fair if I’m exposed, sweetheart.”
“But… you’re laughing.” And it hits you then, why he’s really chuckling in that Eddie Munson way. It’s an incredulous and mind boggling turn of events. Best-friends that broke up when they were never together, now side by side and in a very compromising situation.
You grin and falter into his embrace, your hand working its way into a wind around his neck, taking sweaty strands in scoops between your fingers, his pick chain draped across your knuckles. Eddie licks across his bottom lip, tapping your hips as he moves, your hands falling, and sprawls his legs into a propped spread, cock neglected and flushed, much like the rest of his skin, that you’ll die if you don’t put your marks on. He’s motioning for you to turn in a slow facing position in front of him, and that’s how you end up—vulnerable, so fucking vulnerable. He’s muttering words, huddled and unintelligible, reaching out and tugging you to him by your ankles, stopping, resting, eyes dark as they do a once over to gauge your mental stability. When you don’t protest, palms splaying out to keep yourself upright behind you, Eddie lets his legs flatten against his sheets, a smirk pattering his lips, indenting its knowing presses beside his mouth.
His exhale catches on a ragged breath, a passionate declaration signing off on what’s about to occur, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he pulls you close, your ass resting on his hairy thighs, waiting, held, his arm wrapping around your lower back and lifting you completely into that ink splattered, silk-slick chest, his skin sticking to your long sleeved t-shirt, ruining it with sex-soaked perspiration. You think that there’s nothing—no—you know that in this entire world, no matter what, that whatever will happen to you is never going to compare to the moment when Eddie’s maneuvering hands glide your wet cunt over his cock, using your drenching heat as his own personal lubricant. Your ankles lock around his waist, no choice from the close band that your best-friend has re-tethered you to him with, leaving no room or space where you’re not touching or breathing in the other. Your arms curl around Eddie’s neck, hands draped down his back as you help yourself to pinching and clawing the flesh beneath, relishing every little grumble and groan off his pretty lips. Your face takes solace in his neck, nosing your way through his curly hair, nose bumping his chain to lift so that your mouth can claim him.
“Fuck.” His throat constricts around a swallow, your teeth sinking into a piece of Eddie’s flesh and biting, releasing, lips closing over that angry spot to soothe, tongue tasting salt, licking it off, indulging.
He lets your have your way with his neck, a particularly harsh slap landing on your ass in following of your mouth on his jugular, letting your tongue following that curvature into his jawline. You don’t stop his wandering hands, you don’t dare fight off his vice grip on the globes of your ass, his kneading, using as them leverage to place you right where he wants you. You let him take control, an unspoken agreement, a having to have. Your head falls back as Eddie rolls his hips beneath, rocking his lap, solid presses that drag his fat cock over your embarrassingly wet pussy, scattering your thick arousal and smearing it across his happy trail, getting caught in that patch of curls at the base of his shaft. You’re dripping all over him, quite literally. Caught on a trapped hum, hung in its hisses between your clenched teeth, you croon into Eddie’s neck, your stomach tightening, that velvety drag of his dick through your swollen folds making your lids flutter closed, colors dotting in their dances—translucent.
You aren’t sure where to move your hands, comfortable with having them shred Eddie’s back and empty out the past few days of frustration and desperation. Eddie encourages, palming handfuls of your ass, creating a cresting twist, a thigh trembling rub of sopping wet desire. He’s merely whimpering, appreciating, not overly vocal until his swollen head catches your neglected clit, and his head drops back, fingers pinching so tightly into your skin that it burns.
“Oh, shit. Dammit, baby.”
You’re simpering on a series of whimpers, agreeable and speechless. Eddie is feeding off it. “Yeah? You needing this too? Little clit feels so good rubbing on my dick, sweetheart. You want me to do it again?”
When you’re not immediately able to be vocal, Eddie pulls back a little, shoving his hand between your thighs and drags his rings directly through your arousal, coating them in a glittering shine. His first real touch where you need him the most. You both inhale sharply. It’s the pain from the cool metal of his jewelry that makes it feel so fucking good. He curses, telling you how messy you’re being, flinging his hand in your sights, dragging you in a pry off of his neck, holding your jaw and flashing his knuckles.
“See what you did, messy little angel. You gotta clean em’ now for me.”
His eyes are so fucking demolished, brown crushed beneath a midnight sea of black and insatiable attraction. You’re mewling, tongue lolling out, licking that metallic onto your tongue, sloppily sloping around his knuckles, lips suckling what your tongue can’t catch, your own taste fresh off your mouth. That’s when Eddie brushes a calloused thumb across your bottom lip, tugging it down to expose your teeth, and he brings your lips to his, a feral groan stealing your breath, sharing your juices in your first kiss. It’s a shift in the energy you share, a no going back, no running away, a fate sealed. Eddie loses all control and flips you off his lap, pinning you beneath him, kissing you with such feverish vigor that your hand tangles into his messy curls, and you pull, hard.
His tongue licks your lips open, greedily removing what’s left of your taste that remains. It’s noisy and nasty in the expanse of his small bedroom—diabolically sinful. One hand caresses your throat’s expanse, the other dropping down with a snapped wrist between your thighs, palm smacking your cunt, a guttural groan vibrating from his mouth into your own. Saliva strings on the break away, Eddie’s gaze switching to watch the hand on your cunt, out of it.
“Your pussy always this wet, baby? Or is it just for your best-friend?”
“Only for you, Eddie. Always you.”
Fallen into the depths of satisfaction, Eddie permits a slender digit to drag down your slit, taking that thick honey with it, a squelch echoing in the room when his finger wiggles its way inside of you. You clamp around him, chest heaving with shaky breaths.
“Jesus Christ. You’re gonna drown my dick when you let me fuck you, aren’t you?”
You’re incoherently babbling, tapping the hand that’s on your throat, hungry for it. “Tighter.”
Eddie’s brow raise is comical, a surprise coating his features. “So miss Y/N likes it rough? Never woulda guessed.”
You gulp a pump of air that vibrates across his hold, trying to gain more depth from his finger. It’s moving in exploration of your softly wet walls, an excess of arousal being pressed out upon that squish. Eddie tightens his hold on your throat, before he taps his fingers to your jugular and releases, hand toppling down your side and caressing, bringing. “Fuck, my best-friend’s got such a perfect little pussy. S’ made to be destroyed and used.”
You’re nodding so hard that the motion causes a cracking pop in your neck, Eddie laughing that noise under a cute breath. He’s thick with it, wiggling in a second finger and causing you drop your hands back behind you and push into the sensation, chasing, hunting it.
“Desperate to get away from me all week, now look at you. What a whore.”
Eddie has a mouth on him, something you’d always wondered about in your daily daydreams and nightly fantasies. As vocal as when he’s singing with his band. He’s saying words to you, snapping your attention, you’re whining as his fingers leave your cunt, and he’s pulling you into him so hard your lips split apart, cushioning his cock, cradling him in that overwhelming slick. He must not have meant for that action to cause it, as he jumps when you do, this feral look flickering behind those heated orbs. You know… it’s time.
Eddie is barely able to stand, clumsily bringing you with him by a laced grip in your hands. He gets you upright and you’re dizzy, his hands taking purchase on your shirt (the only remaining piece of clothing on you), and rips it with gritting teeth and anger, as if he’s pissed it’s not the club shirt, or sickened with himself for destroying yours—you’re not sure. Spit pools at the corners of your mouth as you let him tear off your tattered tee and yank your bra down, impatiently yanking the clasp apart and discarding it, helping himself to your tits, closing those plush lips over a nipple. Your hand wraps around his throbbing cock, fingers barely touching around the width, squeezing him—tugging. His hips stutter and he whines against your breast, teeth biting the flesh with a harsh precision.
Your other hand works its way through his wet curls and massages his scalp, tenderly altering in beckoning strokes, ones that switch off into root tugging pulls. Eddie’s hands keep your breast cupped, switching off to the other, whilst you dip lower and fondle his balls, letting your pinky drop off and scratch into his inner thigh. He’s doing that humming thing underneath his fucked out tone again, and you’re focusing your attention on his cock, thumb pad stroking that weeping slit, spreading it around and over that vein, enchanted with how it causes a thin bright shine over him, your own cream matted into the curls at the base of him, pathed up his stomach. His mouth leaves your chest and those big hands grip your cheeks, both of you watching as you jack him with a sticky tug.
Fuck me.
“Who’s the whore for his bestfriend now, Eds? You gonna admit that half the shit I’ve done this week has gotten your dick so hard you can’t decide what you’ve hated me for more,” You say, pausing to twist your grip, making him fold into your holding hand, “my smart mouth or how much you need this.”
Your powering dominance is short lived, hand falling off his erection, with Eddie kneeing you into a shove until your back collides with his desk, his arm reaching around to push most of its contents off and onto the floor, not caring where any of it goes. He nudges your thighs apart and slots his lean frame between, thumb catching the corner of your mouth, his instruction clear, yet awaiting your consent to cross this no back-stepping boundary. “M’ gonna fuck you right here, and you’re goin’ to watch me take you, Y/N.”
You’re pretty sure you’re gonna pass out at any given moment.
“I’m gonna watch you, Eddie.” You agree, zoning out and sprinting after your pleasure.
“Good girl.” Eddie breaks briefly, mouth on your shoulder, hand winding your hair around his fist and tugging it back so hard that the ache inside of you becomes an inferno. He finds the underside of your chin, voice honey-hot. “Because you’re not leaving this room until there’s a puddle of me running back out of your cunt.”
You launch forward so fast that Eddie falls into you, chest smashing against your breasts, your lips crashing into his for a brutally intimate kiss. You sink your teeth into his bottom lip and tug, biting down so hard you taste copper—licking it up and making Eddie’s cock jump. His ring covered hand attaches itself to your throat and he drags you off your prop against the desk, spinning you around and securing you to it, those hairy thighs pressing into you, wet cock so close to where you need him the most. His hand wraps around your hair again and lifts your gaze to that small opening in the mirror where posters and his most prized possession hangs. You’re flushed and soaked with sweat, mouth swollen and streaked with red from biting into Eddie’s plump lip, your pussy dripping thick strings of your creamy essence, slowly slithering in dangles from your pussy and onto the floor.
“You’re so fucking messy, Y/N. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, baby?” Eddie is like the devil on your shoulder, and you, you’re his angel of eternal damnation.
You’re about to beg, but Eddie saves you the trouble, his fingers tapping in tips down your spine, caressing, stroking, before they spread your lips apart and dip inside, palm flat. “Should fuckin’ split you open, do it raw. Cum so deep inside that you end up pregnant with my baby and have no choice but to always think of me, be around me.”
Though there’s a tease behind his passionate words, there’s this primal exclamation that overtakes you and you clamp down on his fingers. A series of fast paced images are vivid in your mind. Your tummy swollen and breasts heavy, Eddie having you bent over like this—one hand on your belly, the other on your throat, feeling your pulse galavant beneath his touch.
“Y/N… Fuck, sweetheart.” He’s so fucked in his descending tone that the depth is gruff and tipping off his diaphragm, you imagine. He presses his cheek against your own, chin resting on your shoulder as you drink each other in, in the mirror’s expanse, Eddie’s tone weak. “You really willing to carry my kid?”
You meet his eyes in the cluttered mirror, nodding, a softness carving out permanent residence in your features. It’s a topic you’d never shared with anyone else, never banked too much on thinking about, but beyond the idea of how hot this all is, you can’t imagine a scenario like this that doesn’t involve Eddie Munson. Vulnerable and barely above a brisk whisper, you’re answering him with, “Yeah, Eds. Want a family with you.”
At your admission, he lets his hand go in languid thrusts. You groan and let your head shift, but Eddie is jerking you back to stare into the glass, both of you panting and on the cusp of an out of body experience. It causes you to grin, licking your lips as your best-friend pumps those experienced digits to cause a purposeful squelch, his rings clinking together. His hard cock is pressed between his own stomach and your back, that pre-cum pooling onto your lower back and smearing in streaks down your ass. You’ve had more than enough teasing and you’re well aware that Eddie has too.
His look briefly falters, turning to mouth at your chin, a silent question. It’s you who uses your words, or rather, trembles in your feeble attempt. “Eddie, just put your cock inside me, or I swear I’ll—“
He’s smirking wildly at your slack-jawed expression when his fingers slide out of you and stick together with your cum, to which he helps himself to and coats his cock, then lines himself up and presses the thick head into your opening, leaning down to bite at your shoulder and leave an exposed imprint. Your legs feel like jello and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. He’s going to ask you to beg, and you’re an all in willing participant. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t. He inhales sharply, you hold your breath, and both of you watch him sink into your slick and soft cunt, inch by inch, until his balls rest against the globes of your cheeks.
You’re still holding your breath, releasing it when you feel him sigh, grip on your hair loosening a little, too caught up in the fact that he’s where he belongs, after so much time doing without this. Your legs are about to buckle, jerking, toes curling against the carpeted floor, overwhelmed by everything that’s happened, and by your best-friend’s cock throbbing in your aching pussy. “E-Eds…?” It’s a pathetic cry of a question.
Eddie’s brows pinch together, sweat beaded between. He grips your jaw and his fingertips tap you back to meet his mouth, hovering over your lips. “S’ okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” He briefly drops the playful gimmick, reassuring you that he’s right here with you.
It’s more than enough to have you arching back into him, a brash pummeling of his hips that sends you into the dresser, having to reach out and catch yourself. Eddie is quick witted, gripping your wrists with one hand and pinning them behind your back, stepping with you in toe, elongating his arm to snatch those handcuffs on his wall, that cold metal biting into your wrist, that dull noise presenting itself as the cuffs lock you into place, Eddie gripping onto the chains’ excess expanse, using it as a leverage. A sliver of a chalky moan trickles off your kiss-swollen lips, appreciative. The way Eddie is manhandling you has you so fucking euphoric that you’re sure you’ll be in a comatose state before either of you can cum. Your best-friend’s large hand finds purchase in your hair again, drawing his hips back, the other on the chain of the cuffs—steadying himself into a rhythm, riding you like all that matters is your destruction and his ultimate ownership.
Eddie Munson has owned you since the very moment that you two met.
The way he’s executing such precise and rough thrusts, making sure you’re high on the bring up, toes pressing into the carpet, that you’re stuffed full of his fat cock until it hurts, twitching in overstimulation, sore and fluttering walls eager to be soaked in everything he has to give you, that you are taking in every inch, catching every ridge, leaving you a shambled, panting mess, in pieces only being put back together again when Eddie will allow your release. His hair is tickling your shoulder blades, his fingers leaving the cuffs to press into your mouth and curl over your tongue, relishing in how you gag around the digits. You’re weak, so fucking weak for him, and he knows it.
“Can’t wait to hear you gag on my cock, Y/N. If you have trouble with these bad boys?” He puts an emphasis, wiggling his fingers against your tongue, giving them a secondary push to over extend your gag reflexes, his dick twitching inside you.
You bite down on his fingers, sucking them in, accepting his challenge, willing it to happen. His balls slap into your ass, heavy and hot, every movement causing the metal to rut into the skin of your wrists. He’s got a steady tempo going, alternating it by dipping his hips to bring you with him, letting you nearly collide with your chest flush to his desk. He reaches up and shoves that poster back by peeling tape, revealing more of your fucked out forms. Your eyes widen at your disheveled and unrecognizable appearance, Eddie using your cuffed hands as reigns. Riding you so hard that you can’t breathe anything but his hot air curling around the shell of your ear.
“Dammit, you are such a good girl for me, Y/N. Always pictured you takin’ my cock, but you’re not even crying yet, just taking what I give you.”
Yet… Fuck me running.
Your scalp is tingling with a prickling crowd of flames from his harsh grip, his other hand reaching to smack your ass, using some mechanism on the cuffs—albeit—struggling with his spit soaked fingers that were just in your mouth, to unlatch them and discard them at your feet, and he watches the flesh of your ass cheek redden and jiggle beneath his biting palm. You fist your fingers into a strewn pair of his blue denim jeans left on the desk top, dipping your forehead down and arching your back, trying to look between your own legs from this new angle to see Eddie’s cock cradled in your puffy lips. He tuts at your unsuccessful action, forcing you back into watching him doing his hard work—the hardest he’s worked at anything (sans his band or the campaigns, if he’s being honest with himself)—to make this unforgettable for you. He hits that spot located inside, the one you have to strain an arm to barely graze, and you lose all coherent capabilities.
“Eddie… that’s, oh my god, oh FUCK. Right there!”
Eddie’s throat crumbles under a weak pant, which ends up coming out as a whimper. He remains firm, however, still using your hair to keep you right where he wants you, his other hand reaching around to pet his own shaft as he slides out just enough to make you wetter.
“Yeah, baby? That spot gonna make somethin’ happen for you?”
You don’t answer, mumbles and babbling gibberish. He shakes that precious head of his, curls tickling your back and shoulders, a sigh breaking free. “Sorry, sweetheart. Can’t believe we’re doin’ this in front of you. Both my girls right here with me, one of them at my fuckin’ mercy.” Your attentions snap over your shoulder and you see Eddie looking at his fucking guitar, that is one of the only things remaining on the mirror. You gape, but aren’t surprised in the slightest.
He continues on, pretending he doesn’t see your partial seethe. “Makin’ a mess all over me, but I bet you like to see it too, don’t you?” He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, still talking to the inanimate object. “Both my sweethearts are such sluts for their owner.”
You can’t help that rattle that clamps around your bones and slices through your spinal cord, seizing your abdomen, right down into your cunt. Owner? You have zero time to warn him, ask if you can, alarms unprepared, skin slapping on skin, his taste on your mouth, his breath on your flesh, that slippery glide that has cum running down your thighs, and it’s a sudden wave crashing over your insides and drowning them in your painfully interstellar-esque orgasm. Your eyes burn with tears as you watch your best-friend feel what’s happening, realizing. He’s covered in your release, and instead of being mad, he is influencing you like the little devil that he can be, plump lip pressing to your ear lobe with one continuous command. “That’s it. C’mon, Y/N. Drench my dick.”
You wish you could bottle the feeling of your first orgasm with Eddie Munson, your best-friend—forever. Finding yourself growing into that vulnerability that comes with the high, you seek to find solace in Eddie’s arms, whimpering at the overstimulation of his thick cock. With that connection still in tact, Eddie is spinning you around, dick sliding out with a messy mixture of arousals covering you both—his member completely doused in your cream, painting the trimmed curls at the base of his shaft with even more of you, slicking back some more of that happy trail. You want to be embarrassed, but as he’s red faced and struggling to breathe, you know that there’s no need to be. He steers you back onto the bed, falling easily between your spread thighs, drawing them up and around his waist.
He presses his forehead into your own, kissing each corner of your mouth, rings circling in dusting sweeps on the apex of your thighs. His voice is a shivered whisper. “Fuck, baby. You okay?”
There’s words on your tongue, Eddie’s taste on your mouth, things you’ve known for years, but are unsure if Eddie has, or if this is something he needs because he’s afraid you’ll abandon him, but that he doesn’t feel what you do. Your head is spinning and Eddie brushes sweaty strands of hair off your forehead, taking his cock through your swollen folds, pressing that spongey head into your clit—both of you crying out. “Y/N, m’ right here. Care to join me?”
And god help you, the way that you look at him. Really allow yourself to see him this way—unabashed—it stirs all those feelings Eddie has bottled down since forever. You press your thumb into his mouth, your other hand sliding down to grip onto him, gliding your hand back and forth, relishing in how his abdomen tenses, muscles flexing, body gravitating towards whatever you’re willing to bestow. He doesn’t let you touch him much longer, taking what your hand isn’t around and guiding it back into your cunt, that scrumptious burn brimming you, making your thighs drop open, back arch, only to tighten your ankles around him, digging your heels into his ass. He suckles your fingertip into his mouth, licking the digit in until it’s down to the knuckle.
Your head presses sideways, cheek on his pillow, inhaling his shaving cream and that spicy scent. He pauses his movements, making you frown in displeasure. He lets go of your spit tainted finger, gripping your chin, a possessive fire overcoming him. His irises remain completely black, putting you deeper into that comatose trance of agonizing sin. “I want you to fucking say it, Y/N.”
You start a beginning questionnaire, Eddie shaking his head and pressing in harder on your chin, fingers splaying across your jaw, rings pinching your chin in the most delightfully painful of ways. “Say you want me, tell me you fucking need me. That you’re not tired of me, and that you’re proud to be the freak’s slut.”
Your hands wind around his back and you sink your nails in as hard as you can, bearing down on him, sucking him in deeper, both of you in a state of no return. His hand tickles down from your face and grips your neck. “Still sick of me, baby?” He situates your gaze, lifting his hips to a raise so that you can see where you’re connected. You’re inconsolable, that fire already blazing your gut, turning every sense into nothingness.
When Eddie starts back up again, he slams himself into you so hard that your vision goes dark and you shred your own bottom lip open, body moving closer to his wall due to the force. He’s licking beneath your jugular, words sensual and filthy, making your entire body spike in a sudden electricity. “Gonna cum in every hole you’ve got, so you remember that they’re mine.”
This time you’re more than ready to give him a warning, body beginning to shake beyond your control, breaths stuttering in your chest. Eddie reaches down between you, calloused thumb flicking your clit. Everything is so fucking wet and the way it sounds in the expanse of Eddie’s small room, it has you opening your mouth, out of control and greedily begging for more.
“Eds, harder. Please? Almost…”
He’s grinning in that special way that weakens you—heart and soul, body and mind. “So much more than a slut.” His thrusts become choppy, his own babbling tone turning into Eddie-speak. “You are way more than you know, Y/N.”
You fondle his pick chain and bring him into your immediate airspace, mouths hovering. He’s nearing his end, cock getting fuller inside you. “Need you to tell me how much you love me.”
You both completely go slack. Eddie stops himself all together, body trembling, head bowing. Your heart rate increases, feeling as if you’ve skipped a staircase thousands of feet in the air and you’re now free falling.
Love… You don’t have to think twice.
Your hands move to cup his face, holding on, your eyes shining with tears at all overloaded emotions and senses. “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.”
At your admission, those beautiful eyes—dark with remains of passion—they fill, and he gives you his all, driving his cock into you in calculated presses, trying like hell to get you to cum first. When he speaks, his voice cracks apart. “Let me know that you’re right here with me, Y/N.”
“I’ve always been here, Eddie.” Is what you manage, thumping your hand against his wrist and helping him bring his fingers back to your clit.
He doesn’t let you look away, noses smashed together, sticky foreheads pressing, hair curtaining the apples of pink, sex stained cheeks. Your eyes widen as that knot begins to tighten in your stomach, unraveling so violently that Eddie has to grip your quivering thigh in one hand, the other keeping steady on your clit. You dig into his back, other hand tugging on his hair, and Eddie is giving a throaty seduction. “That’s it, be my good girl and cum again for me.”
And you’re coming apart at your very core, every cell exploding and rebuilding, gluing yourself to Eddie to seize the ache that scrambles your insides and leaves you breathless. He’s cursing, keeping his finger on your clit to help you coast over the high, immediately following you with the lowest, sweetest, whimpering moan that you’ve ever heard. Both of your eyes still drinking in the other’s pleasure, tears spilling over your lash line as Eddie’s hips cease and he holds, his cock swelling and that soft, creamy warmth coating your sore walls in spurts. He collapses onto your chest and you hold him there in a vice hug, his hand still trapped between your exhausted bodies. He gently eases it out, groaning around the wetness that he’s all too eager to sample until the layer of shine is off his fingers.
Holy shit and fuck me…
Your legs fall to the side, unable to stay upright any longer, Eddie keeping a hovering hand to soothe your shaking. He kisses your neck with a plush mouth, his chain dangling between your breasts. You’re petting his hair—which is so soaked it’s as if he’s been in the rain or come from the shower—off his forehead, wincing as he slides out and keeps himself by your side. You gasp and he joins, fascinated by your cum and his own seed pouring from your cunt. He raises up a little. “Mhm. Let me see?”
He props your thigh, sliding his fingers back and forth, zoned in on his bedsheets being ruined from the literal puddle of your shared cum that runs from you. Seconds pass and he grins widely, plopping onto his back, his fingertips caressing your shoulder, down to your arm. It’s a comfortable quiet, even with the intense meaning of the words that were spoken, until Eddie starts with a, “So..?”
And you cut him off, trying to get your uncomfortably hot body closer. “So I love you. And I have never stopped needing you, or wanting you, Eddie. I just hope all this wasn’t because we were fighting and you got scared I would leave, and —“
He doesn’t let you finish this time, that chocolate-ly brown ring swinging back around his pupil in a brisk develop, showcasing the moisture in his eyes. “I was scared because I love you so damn much that I would charge headfirst into Mordor, or some alternate dimension without any weapon or any shield, just for you. You gotta know that, Y/N.”
His softness, that glittering fragility, it makes you seal your mouth to his, kissing him full of your feelings. He cups the nape of your neck, drawing in closer, thumb coaxing a shiver from you as it passes over a certain spot behind your ear. On a wet break away, you’re nodding your head. “Guess we spent all week fighting when we should’ve been fucking and talking about our feelings.”
Eddie smirks, then is serious. “Be that as it may, I’m sorry I’ve been shit at showing you I appreciate all that you do for the guys and me. And for forgetting that you are your own person too. S’ not like I meant to, I swear. I just get so fucking caught up and I shouldn’t take for granted anything that has to do with you or with us.”
“Have I ever told you that you’re my best-friend, Eddie Munson?”
While it’s still true, you’re wondering when the words leave your lips. Eddie just fucked you so hard you probably won’t be able to sit down for a week or walk upright for hours, so friendship isn’t exactly the most appropriate term anymore, is it?
Eddie taps his fingertips to your temple, drawing your dazed expression, clinging to the cosmic connection once more. “M’ yours, Y/N.”
“Oh yeah, Munson?” You’re so high that you could fly out of here right now and make rounds around the whole globe. Your chest is aching with a tempo that promises new hope and ease.
Eddie is giddy too, that wide set smile, cheesing. “Just gotta get you a new shirt.”
The memory of your old club attire being one with the forest floor seems like so long ago. Eddie knuckle grazes your cheek, apologetic. You shush him. “I ruined yours, so we’re even.”
There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes and he’s tackling you beneath him, pinning your hands in a lace above your head. “Nah, we are just getting started on bein’ even, baby.”
~*~
Tagging: @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @gothbitchshit @thisishellfire @ethereal27cereal @likedovesinthewnd
-I really need to form a bigger tag list! I’m sorry :/-
Lemme know if you want on my general tag list, please! :)
#kristenwrites#eddie munson#my work#my writing#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fic#stranger things 4#stranger things#stranger things 4 fanfiction#stranger things 4 fic#stranger things smut
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𖥔 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍' 𖥔
summary ; steve comes home to find you more than just asleep
pairing ; steve harrington x girlfriend!reader
notes ; female oral seggs, slightly pervy steve, kinda exhibitionism, somnophilia. let me know if i forgot any !
do not transfer, translate or share my works to any other sites.
the air was sticky, cascading a blanket of humidity over your body. a light sheen of sweat present on your now dewy skin. it was hot — too hot for your liking — and you cursed your shitty old air conditioner for breaking at the hottest time of the year.
given your losses, it was enough to warrant your desire of wearing absolutely nothing while having to spend the day cleaning your small apartment. you weren't sure how you had let things get so far behind, but with multiple loads of washing and a kitchen sink filled with dishes, you weren't about to slug yourself around and torture yourself with unnecessary layers of clothing.
you danced around the kitchen, twirling on the tips of your toes as you placed dishes into their designated spots. sticking the occasional finger up at the broken air conditioner for damning you to endure such insufferable temperatures, and for making steve take on more shifts at work so that you could afford to fix it.
after hours of cleaning, the warmth finally starts to take its toll, tiring you out until you couldn't possibly stand on your feet any longer. you seek refuge in the bedroom, falling into a heap on the bed where your book from this morning still laid.
the sheets are soft against your bareness, fitting into every curve and crevice. the window above your bed is open, letting in small gusts of summer as you slowly flip through the pages once more. but not even the words of your favourite author could keep you awake, and your eyes begin to flitter closed.
it's not until the late afternoon that steve finally ventures home from the video store, climbing the staircase in the building and letting out an exasperated sigh when he reaches the door to your apartment. his fingers are tired from constantly prying open video covers and sifting through tapes to scan — all he wants is to see your face.
his shoulders fall when he enters, expecting you to be sitting in the lounge reading a book or baking away in the kitchen like you always were — you loved to surprise him with new recipes — but you weren't doing either of those things.
he's surprised by the silence, and even more so when he makes his way to the bedroom and sees you in bed. the furrow in his brow quickly dissipates, and breath catches in the back of his throat. your face is all cute and puffy as you sleep, lips swollen and cheek squished against your book, but he's mostly surprised by the view he had been granted the second he walked in the door.
another gust of warmth dances across your body, causing your nipples to taut. it was a new sensation, one that you seemed to like, as you stir from your sleep, tossing and turning to get more comfortable atop the sheets. spreading your legs open for some sort of relief while also giving steve the perfect view of your flower as he stands at the foot of the bed. he swallows hard now, his jaw tensing as a heat begins to build up inside his pants, his member straining against the compact of his jeans.
there was nothing steve loved more than the sight of you opening up for him, showing off your velvety centre and letting him bury his head between your thighs. he loved the sight of you — the taste of you on his tongue — and as he stood there watching as you had unintentionally given him the thing he desired the most, he couldn't not think about how you tasted in that moment.
slowly, he slips off his shoes, unbuckles his belt and lets his jeans fall to the floor in a heap, giving his shaft some release as a growl forms in the back of his throat. his family video vest and polo shirt following suit, and with careful motions, he crawls across the bed towards your middle.
he wanted, no needed, you on his tongue now.
he moves forward enough to wrap his hands around the underside of your thighs, large fingers holding them apart in case you felt the urge to close them on him. then, taking in the sight of your beautiful sleeping face once more, knowing how much you were going to love his little wake-up, and with a smirk splayed across his lips, he slowly swipes his tongue across your goodness.
he revels in the taste of you. sweet on his tongue and already slightly wet. you must've been having a good dream.
it takes you a moment, slowly stirring from your sleep, grasping at the sheets around your head while steve laps up your taste. he begins to move his tongue at a faster pace now, making sure to get you nice and wet before starting on your sweet little bundle of nerves.
the instant contact sends a rush of goosebumps across your skin and sets you alight with ecstasy, a whimper leaving your lips as you finally come to. your chest is heaving, rising and falling so dramatically that it takes you a moment to collect yourself.
"w-when did you get home?" you ask between heavy pants, a moan escaping you at the end when he hits your most sensitive spot.
he pulls his tongue away momentarily and you instantly regret asking the question, wanting his touch back on you. his hair tickles your thighs as he moves to press a chaste kiss on your lips, letting you get a small taste of yourself, "a few minutes ago. i couldn't resist..." he smirks before delving right back into your sweetness, this time with the help of this thumb on your clit as he works magic on your core.
"well, i'm glad you couldn't - fuck, stevie." you cut yourself off, the pleasure consuming your every last thought.
steve rubs small circles on the nub, as he tongue-fucks your hole, insatiable moans leaving you. your back arches, hips jutting, and fingers snaking through his hair, gripping onto the loose chocolatey curls as he pushes you closer to your high.
“fuck, right there,” you cry as the pressure grows, a pulsing inside daring to break free.
you can feel the ball inside your stomach, a coil begging to snap, as your hips jut into steve’s face once more. hands now grabbing at the sheets, the pillows, anything to help you ride it out. “god, you’re so fucking beautiful.” steve mumbles, his big brown eyes staring up at you through his lashes and dishevelled hair.
it’s then that the orgasm hits, crashing down over you like a wave as you hold his gaze. he doesn't take his eyes away for so much as a second. he watches you intently, thumb still working you as his tongue licks up your slick. the only sound in your otherwise quiet apartment is the mixture of moans and curses leaving your lips.
steve doesn't stop, wanting you to get the most out of your orgasm, as he takes in the sight of your shaking body. your eyes now rolling into the back of your head as your mouth forms the most perfect 'o' shape. it was a sight he would never get sick of, one that would continue to consume his every thought for as long as he lived.
as your high comes to an end, steve can feel you pulsating on his tongue and presses a soft kiss to you before eventually pulling away. a roguish grin immediately takes hold as he moves to lay with you, slumping down on the sheets.
still breathless, you pant, "that was the best wake-up i've ever had."
"maybe you should be naked when i come home more often," he chuckles softly, brushing the hair from his forehead.
turning to him, a smile present on your lips, you say, "maybe i should."
#— ꒰ ‧ ₊˚ vee daydreams ˖꙳‧ ꒱#steve harrington ᰔ#— not sfw ! ᰔ#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington fic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington smut
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For awhile my favorite pair of sweatpants had a hole in the crotch and after a long day of work I didn’t want to wear underwear and have them chafing my ass so I would just be very careful how I sat and shit but imagine how Katsuki would react if he found out you were walking around with no underwear on in pants that had a hole exposing ur pussy if u moved wrong. (My thighs are so big they mostly hid it lmao) I just imagine him being so mean about it.
Next time say hi 😭 buttt this was a great hc so I turned it into something lol
Pairing: K. Bakugo x Chubby Fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+ MDNI
fingering, degradation (use of slut, whore, etc), aged up characters, y’all are both adults
❀
🌸Listen, Katsuki would totally be a mean little shit about this. But in his defense, It’s his first time dating a thick bitch so he probably doesn’t even know what chafing is 😭
🌸So of course he thinks you’re being a lil slut— thinks you’re a lazy little whore who probably cut the hole for easier access to play with your pussy.
🌸Or maybe you’re just being a dumb brat, trying to tease and tempt him, being selfish with your pretty pussy like it already doesn’t belong to him.
🌸He didn’t even know why you loved wearing those dumb ass pants anyway. He loved seeing your thick thighs and juicy ass in nothing but those cheeky pink panties with the heart design on the ass.
🌸So when he teleports himself from across the room to sitting beside you, he’s just that damn fast, he’s fucking floored when he catches a glimpse of your bare pussy through that hole.
🌸He looks at you with an unreadable face, but one thing you can tell, he’s fucking annoyed. Most of all he’s fucking offended.
🌸He’s got a face to ride and all this dick for you to sit on, yet you’ve resorted to rubbing your pussy through your pants like a horny loser in college.
🌸Next thing you know he’s slapping your laptop closed and tossing it aside like it’s not a thousand dollar piece of machinery.
🌸Then he’s on you, spreading your thick thighs and tossing your left leg over his shoulder. Your body goes rigid when you feel it—he’s rubbing your clit right through that hole.
🌸He just knows you cut it to fuck with him. But he doesn’t expect you to be as shocked as you are. You’re looking at him with those big dumb eyes and that stupidly cute face, makes him lose his damn mind every time.
🌸“What? This what ya wanted, right?” He’s taunting you heavily and on top of that you lose the feeling of his fingers rubbing those slow circles. Your whimpers of protest are pathetic, trying to be innocent when you’re really just a whore. His whore.
🌸“Wan’ me to stop?” He’s pressing his forehead up against yours, almost like he’s studying you. It’s so intimate but also intimidating, which is why you’re focusing your eyes down and away from his.
🌸“Do you want me to stop, dumbass?” His voice has more bass this time, a little scary but so fucking hot. The shaking of your head has him grinning evilly. “N-no.”
🌸Good cause after a light pinch to your clit, he’s flipping his hand palm up and stuffing two thick fingers into your cunt.
🌸You’re already wet and squelching around his fingers. He’s relentless, squeezing and kneading your thigh like a damn stressball as he fucks those fingers into you so hard and fast.
🌸You’re on the verge of tears with how good his fingers are making you feel. Especially when he begins to curl and flick them up and down, bumping that gummy area at the roof of your cunt and forcing a broken moan of his name for you lips. “Uhhuh, needy bitch.”
🌸He’s staring at your fucked out face, eyes fluttering open every so often, mouth open in a wide ‘o’. “Fuckin’ pathetic. Got a man but ya’ still gotta rub one out huh?”
🌸His taunting fell on deaf ears as he fucked you with his fingers. You’re too fucked out on a cloud of euphoria to even respond anything intelligent.
🌸Your sweaty palm is slipping against the smooth leather of the couch so you dig your nails into his forearms, having no where else to grab. Of course he doesn’t mind, he didn’t fight crime everyday to be afraid of a little scratches.
🌸You’re cooing and keening, several curses of ‘oh fuck’ and ‘right fucking there’ spilling from your lips. “Shut the fuck up, like I don’t know how to work your needy cunt.”
🌸Your eyes widen at his harsh words, cunt clenching simultaneously. “Kats, you’re b-being mean.” He doesn’t say anything, but he presses a kiss to your lips. Quick though, cause he’s still upset in love with you.
🌸As soon as he feels your pussy clenching around his fingers he’s pulling them out. Then he sits up, pulling you down and prying your legs wider, one pressed against your chest and the other strewn over the back of the couch.
🌸You might as well kiss those sweatpants goodbye babes cause as soon as he hooks his fingers inside that hole, the meanest smirk on his face, you hear the dreading sound of fabric ripping.
🌸You’d look down in absolute horror to see a gaping hole right at your crotch and his dick now freed, pushing right up against your sopping cunt.
🌸You saw all 8.5 inches of that slightly curved cock with his pretty pink tip kissing right up against your entrance, teasing with every shallow thrust he gave. “Relax baby, just givin’ you what you wanted..”
❀
#bakugou x chubby reader#bakugou smut#black reader#bnha smut#chubby reader#mha x plus sized reader#bakugo x poc!reader#bakugou imagine#bakugou x black reader#bakugo headcanons#bakugou hcs#bakugo hcs#bakugo x chubby reader#bakugou x reader#bakugou headcanons
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Grayson Hawthorne Headcanons
Always has his arms around your waist especially when he's about to leave to go somewhere, he will hug you at least three times
Tries to free up space in his schedule so you can have dinner together every day
Plans the best and most thoughtful dates for the both of you. Goes above and beyond what you ever think of. ("You didn't have to do all this". "Of course I did. It's for you, my love")
He likes to make you blush sometimes by kissing you full on in the middle of the house where anyone could come past.("Sorry, I couldn't help it, love.")- Xander's seen u two and told u to get a room.
Loves just spending time with you, will set up a picnic blanket so both of you can stargaze
gets you anything you've mentioned in passing. You've mentioned how cute cats are? Lucky you because the next day you've got a cat in your room
Ask you which car he should buy because apparently you have good taste. (the real reason is because it's only going to be you two sat in his car so he wants it to be your choice)
Will ask what your wearing and walk into his WALK IN WARDROBE to find a slightly matching outfit
His taste in fashion is impeccable, sometimes you have to ask him where he gets his clothes from because damn those jumpers in winter look comfy
safe to say you steal half his jumpers, hoodies. He loves when you do it
will offer you his jumpers ("You'll suit this")
Compliments you really randomly after looking at you with so much love in his eyes
Has literally brought a separate apartment for the both of you just in case his family is a little too chaotic for you ("But I love your family!" "Are you sure?")
Grayson has great family values even though he's been through a lot which is why you are literally there at every dinner and every meeting they have
very sensitive about his hair and so only lets you run your fingers through it when it's just the two of you. You tease him sometimes by messing up his hair.
Sometimes the both of you will stay up all night having a heart to heart, cuddling each other
He is a literal gentleman. Crouches down to help with your heels, opens doors for you, will even tie up your hair for you, if you don't fully understand their whole mystery kind of thing he will take the time to explain it to you
Literally shits himself from nerves because he doesn't know if you'll accept his proposal (of course u do)
He is also the best interior designer, anytime someone comes around to ur house (mansion) they compliment the designs ("Yes, it was my husband who chose most of it out")
You both still attend weekly dinners at Hawthorne house if not more
(Jameson will be coming soon. Check out my masterlist for now! xx)
Masterlist
#headcanons#grayson hawthorne x y/n#grayson hawthorne x reader#grayson hawthorne#grayson hawthorne x you#the brothers hawthorne#xander hawthorne#the inheritance games#grayson x reader#grayson headcanons#grayson hawthorne headcanons#the final gambit#inheritance games#hawthorne brothers
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hey boy, listen…
“my first love story…my angel…and my girls…my sunshine. hey, hey, lets go!”
fem reader. matching halloween costumes with bllk characters. bllk x reader. fluff. characters (separate): michael kaiser, oliver aiku, bachira meguru, hiori yo, chigiri hyoma, kunigami rensuke, itoshi sae+rin, isagi yoichi, shidou ryuusei, nagi seishiro, mikage reo
#
michael kaiser - joker x harley quinn
• this man is certified bonkers so of course he’s the joker and as his loyal worshipper you’re harley quinn
• perhaps a prophecy of the status of your relationship perhaps you just look stylish (ITS THE SECOND ONE PLEASE PICK THE SECOND ONE)
• such a softie for you but would never admit it, you chose the costume and he made sure to get the finest ones money could buy though the pictures you took…he’d rather not see himself dressed as a clown criminal mastermind.
#
oliver aiku - nick & judy (zootopia)
• this was his idea, y’know damn well this man is a party animal so you just have to trust he’s not cheating
• so he decides to make you feel better, he’ll bring you along and do matching costumes.
• i just know this man likes putting on animal ears and kids movies thats why y’all are nick and judy
#
bachira meguru - thing 1 & 2
• remember how he got called a weirdo as a kid? he’s definitely a weirdo. eats toothpaste, drinks milk from the carton, milk before cereal. a total goof ball
• he loves children’s books and even as at his big age of 17 he still makes you read them to him and pretends he’s a kid going to bed (IN A WHOLESOME WAY)
• so when the halloween party came up he wanted to go as his favourite book characters, thing 1 & 2. and of course you agreed
#
hiori yo - kuromi and my melody
• of course he’s my melody and you’re kuromi. this was his idea so he gets first dibs
• being the gamer he is he enjoys playing with you, you two are always the cringe couple in the lobby with matching usernames and avatars and he does all the carrying but he also enjoys playing those silly little retro girls games like ‘hamham heartbreak’ and the old cardcaptor sakura games.
• in conclusion he’s a total nerd thats a total sucker for the female gaze
#
chigiri hyoma - team rocket
• this man is a total princess and every year you guys dress as a cartoon couple only to do the same costume the next year but switch the roles so one year he might be james and the next jesse
• this year he’s james, he even did a temporary dye on his hair for accuracy but of course no cutting.
• he loves doing hair with you and for this year’s costume you were the one washing and dyeing his hair
#
kunigami rensuke - raven and beast boy
• you like cartoons, he likes superheroes, you both need a cute matching costume, easy compromise. you both came up with this together while brainstorming
• this man is a lovesick loser so beast boy was very easy to pull off and the most perfect costume for the two of you. the only real inaccuracy is that he’s pretty big
• homemade costumes for the win, of course you’ll buy bits and pieces but overall a homely look because rensuke will do anything to bond with you
#
itoshi sae - light and misa
• sae canonically likes chibi maruko san, who’s to say he isn’t a big weeb? in fact this was his idea. he’s really convincing when it comes to halloween
• he’s a lot like light, cold, calculating, smart so it suited him and besides since light dresses similarly it only fit and since you’re so hopelessly in love with him, it was destiny
• sae isn’t the type to work with his hands but he also didn’t like the quality of pre made costumes. living in europe gave him refined taste so you two went on a designer shopping spree for individual pieces to make your costumes.
#
itoshi rin - coraline’s parents
• you’re probably a total wuss, even if you’re not, rin still can consume more horror, gore, and other gross things than anyone. accumulating in him wanting to do a matching costume with you only if it was some horror character.
• you agreed and settled on coraline since it’d be fun and easy, to match you dressed as coraline’s parents, specifically the other parents with the button eyes
• your favourite part was doing his hair and makeup, rin is like a cat taking a bath you really had to pin him to his office chair or on the bed to do his makeup properly, and yeah theres plenty of kisses
#
isagi yoichi - alice and the cheshire cat
• he’s so bland, (im kidding pls dont come for me) but he loves you so, so he’ll sacrifice the main character spot for you just this once. you’re alice and he’s the cat, of course this was completely your idea
• yoichi doesn’t care too much for this kind of thing, he originally intended to spend halloween cuddling and watching movies with you, perhaps invite some friends over or have some fun without them if you know what i mean….
• but he enjoyed being your cute kitty for a night, you dragged him out and about to take pictures and being blue lock’s hero there was no short of attention
#
shidou ryusei - cleo denile and deuce
• ryusei is very eccentric, kind of weird, in a hot way not in a cute way like meguru. and as you made him watch boo york with you he took one look at cleo and was like “yeah” so in away it was your idea but not really
• you’re his princess and he’s the douche looking boyfriend, i’m not sure about you but it most definitely suits him.
• as you guys went out and about this halloween you know he’s already thinking about next year, perhaps raven queen and derick charming. maybe barbie and ken?
#
nagi seishiro - veggie tales
• let me tell you i’ve actually done this costume irl, seishiro is a lazy fellow he doesn’t like putting in much effort but he’s a cutie patootie and he does adore his pookie
• matching costumes was your idea, to dress as the cucumbers from veggie tales however was his idea as all he had to do was buy the costumes and look cute
• fan reactions and his friends; they found it so stupid it was hilarious, compared to all the other celebrity couples costumes you two chose….children’s cartoons.
#
mikage reo - the adam’s parents
• he’s rich so it’s gotta be classy, you two were going to some gala held by his family company, the mikage corporation, cute and classy lets go
• reo really isn’t one for movies so this was your idea, he’s a total simp for you, absolutely floored all the time with no exception. kissing you up and grovelling at your feet like his morticia adams
• in the end your costume really did suit the occasion made for the best pictures. you guys are now pinterest king and queen every halloween
___
School’s been kicking my ass so i had to do this quickly, anyway what are you guys dressing up as this year?
#michael kaiser x reader#oliver aiku x reader#bachira meguru x reader#hiori x reader#chigiri hyoma x reader#kunigami rensuke x reader#itoshi sae#itoshi rin#isagi yoichi#shidou ryuusei#nagi seishiro#mikage reo
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can we take a moment to remember the fierce deity chain au where the chain become gods and trap y/n in a reality that looks like their home put is controlled by the chain
also we know twilight abuses doggo privileges, does legend abuse rabbit privileges?
OMG YOU’RE RIGHT I REMEMBER THIS. Damn it’s been so long I should really redraw this or just the Chain’s FD designs in general.
Also, it’s hard to say whether or not Legend abuses his rabbit privileges since his circumstances are much different than Twilight’s.
For one thing, Legend doesn’t have unlimited access to the Twili artifact, that’s one of Twilight’s things. If he wanted to use it, and use it enough that he’s considered abusing his cute bunny form, then he’d have to steal the artifact far too many times for Twilight not to notice.
Plus there’s the whole pink hair thing and while I don’t think Legend would forsake affection just because he’s a little bit embarrassed about having pink hair(especially if (y/n) actually likes his pink hair) it also serves as a big obvious indicator that got bunnified to those who know.
Granted, this is all under the assumption that Legend needs to hide this during a time when they’re all still tumultuous with each other and their feelings. If they have a steady foundation and trust in one another then Legend could simply ask Twilight for the artifact from time to time. But even then Twilight isn’t letting him have it to very other day, y’know?
So the answer is, while Legend might want to take advantage of his rabbit form, he wouldn’t be able to one way or another.
#linked universe#yandere linked universe#acrylic answers#yandere linked universe x reader#lu fierce deity#lu twilight#lu legend#acrylic draws#(y/n) posting#linked universe x reader
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Do you have any top tier horse yuri fic recs?
Hmm, i got a couple, lemme think
This one is a very sweet slice of life EG Sunset x Scitwi one, its got a lovely interpretation of the characters; With the expected but very welcome pairing of cool punk girl and adorable nerd. and i plan on doing fanart of it! The writer knows her stuff nyeheh =v=
This is the best "Rarity and Applejack get drunk together and mushy stuff happens" Fic i seen out there, a trope that is surprisingly recurring, ive seen others like this! But this one is the best, hands down. A mutual of mine wrote it and its just a wonderful time!
This one is a super fun horror esque rarijack fic where rarity is haunted and applejack tries to help her. its got fantastic prose and its just damn lovely! I've done fanart of it before, its a sweet one, and its also just a really interesting direction to take Rarity's character that i'm almost sad to not see more of. Overpowered rarity whennnn
Although i don't ship twilight and trixie, this fic of this pairing, that is still ongoing, is fucking hilarious. The comedy has wonderful timing, and the takes on the characters are endlessly entertaining
Stay tuned to this wonderful fic of Rarijack anthros (Inspired by the ones i designed, too!!) 'cause its gonna have a sex sequel that i've already gotten a sneak peek or two of, and i'm frotthing at the mouth about it. biting things even (i sketched the cover btw!)
This fic isn't rly horse yuri but its 1000 words of Sunset Shimmer being the utter insane badass i always wished she was; and I will continue writing her like so. I'm glad to see another writer also concidered the same
If you're like me, and think that sex is funny, this fic and it's two sequels are for you. Sunset Shimmer throws a party of deranged proportions that ends in debauchery and indulgence that nearly destroys the fabric of equestria; and it's consequences are hilarious.
This is a rly cute short trans rarity fic, and it has a delightful amount of rarijack within. utterly adorbs. Almost sad to see it so short!
Finaly, i'd be amiss to not recommend the fics i've written myself; Here are my two biggest and most awesomest i've done:
The Return of Midnight Sparkle Is a take on MLP where there is no EG universe, and rather, Sunset Shimmer is brought to the mane 6 per twilight's request, and she absolutely does not feel like she belongs, and its a narrative about her desperate attempts of fitting in; and dealing with the fallout of her failings. I put an inordinate amount of effort on this one, even drawing covers for each chapter. I went DERRANGED with the idea of "what if sunset shimmer was on FIM and also it was gay as fuck." i basicaly wrote an entire season of the show and its finale. If you're a fan of Sunset Shimmer and Twilight Sparkle as a pairing, cannot recommend enough. Here's some of the art i made for it. Insanely sick chapter covers im super proud of
The Princess and the Peasant is an all you can eat buffet for Rarijack enjoyers, I've taken the baseline of the story of "shrek 1" and i made it about Applejack and Rarity; And also expanded upon it and fixed some of the annoyances with the og story (No third act misunderstanding! On the contrary. Third act understanding. SEX.) The humble farmer Applejack has to rescue fair Princess Rarity from a dragon keep, and escort her across Equestria to ensure that her farm and family are safe. Of course, on the journey, those two grow a bit close... Too close. VEry very very veyr close. Here's a comic i've made of one of my fave scenes of it lmaooo Cannot express enough; If you're a fan of rarijack? This fic is EVERYTHING for you.
#writing stuff#ask#thanks for the ask. Please read my fanfics#I've been CHERISHING writing lately#its been an utter joy#fr fr
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The "Virtue Chick": Heaven's Seven Heavenly Virtues?
So I know damn well I'm not the first to notice this but I want to talk about it anyway.
Adam mentions banging a "virtue chick". Not "virtuous" but "virtue" or perhaps rather "Virtue". Does this imply that Heaven has seven entities that correspond with the Seven Deadly Sins of Hell?
For those that don't know, the Seven Heavenly Virtues are a real theological concept, and they are:
Chastity (the opposite of Lust)
Temperance (the opposite of Gluttony)
Charity (the opposite of Greed)
Diligence (the opposite of Sloth)
Kindness (the opposite of Envy)
Patience (the opposite of Wrath)
Humility (the opposite of Pride)
As far as I know these virtues don't have specific theological entities that correspond with them like the sins do. The only sources I can find that say otherwise are TVTropes and a fictional wiki, which assign the virtues to the Seven Archangels, which I doubt would be depicted as women in the show. But I could see characters based on the Seven Heavenly Virtues existing. Maybe these Virtues will appear in the future?
Either way, they could be a fun opportunity for fans to design some new characters! I might take a shot at it eventually.
What do you think? Any ideas as to what they'd be like? I think it'd be cute if they corresponded the Sins in some way.
Edit: After looking into this more, it looks like some people have pointed this out already on the wiki, and others have theorized that such a thing could happen even before the show came out! The wiki notes that "Virtue" is also a classification of angel, so it's unclear what Adam meant. I still think it would be fun to see counterparts for the Sins, though, fanmade or otherwise!
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What are some of the coolest computer chips ever, in your opinion?
Hmm. There are a lot of chips, and a lot of different things you could call a Computer Chip. Here's a few that come to mind as "interesting" or "important", or, if I can figure out what that means, "cool".
If your favourite chip is not on here honestly it probably deserves to be and I either forgot or I classified it more under "general IC's" instead of "computer chips" (e.g. 555, LM, 4000, 7000 series chips, those last three each capable of filling a book on their own). The 6502 is not here because I do not know much about the 6502, I was neither an Apple nor a BBC Micro type of kid. I am also not 70 years old so as much as I love the DEC Alphas, I have never so much as breathed on one.
Disclaimer for writing this mostly out of my head and/or ass at one in the morning, do not use any of this as a source in an argument without checking.
Intel 3101
So I mean, obvious shout, the Intel 3101, a 64-bit chip from 1969, and Intel's first ever product. You may look at that, and go, "wow, 64-bit computing in 1969? That's really early" and I will laugh heartily and say no, that's not 64-bit computing, that is 64 bits of SRAM memory.
This one is cool because it's cute. Look at that. This thing was completely hand-designed by engineers drawing the shapes of transistor gates on sheets of overhead transparency and exposing pieces of crudely spun silicon to light in a """"cleanroom"""" that would cause most modern fab equipment to swoon like a delicate Victorian lady. Semiconductor manufacturing was maturing at this point but a fab still had more in common with a darkroom for film development than with the mega expensive building sized machines we use today.
As that link above notes, these things were really rough and tumble, and designs were being updated on the scale of weeks as Intel learned, well, how to make chips at an industrial scale. They weren't the first company to do this, in the 60's you could run a chip fab out of a sufficiently well sealed garage, but they were busy building the background that would lead to the next sixty years.
Lisp Chips
This is a family of utterly bullshit prototype processors that failed to be born in the whirlwind days of AI research in the 70's and 80's.
Lisps, a very old but exceedingly clever family of functional programming languages, were the language of choice for AI research at the time. Lisp compilers and interpreters had all sorts of tricks for compiling Lisp down to instructions, and also the hardware was frequently being built by the AI researchers themselves with explicit aims to run Lisp better.
The illogical conclusion of this was attempts to implement Lisp right in silicon, no translation layer.
Yeah, that is Sussman himself on this paper.
These never left labs, there have since been dozens of abortive attempts to make Lisp Chips happen because the idea is so extremely attractive to a certain kind of programmer, the most recent big one being a pile of weird designd aimed to run OpenGenera. I bet you there are no less than four members of r/lisp who have bought an Icestick FPGA in the past year with the explicit goal of writing their own Lisp Chip. It will fail, because this is a terrible idea, but damn if it isn't cool.
There were many more chips that bridged this gap, stuff designed by or for Symbolics (like the Ivory series of chips or the 3600) to go into their Lisp machines that exploited the up and coming fields of microcode optimization to improve Lisp performance, but sadly there are no known working true Lisp Chips in the wild.
Zilog Z80
Perhaps the most important chip that ever just kinda hung out. The Z80 was almost, almost the basis of The Future. The Z80 is bizzare. It is a software compatible clone of the Intel 8080, which is to say that it has the same instructions implemented in a completely different way.
This is, a strange choice, but it was the right one somehow because through the 80's and 90's practically every single piece of technology made in Japan contained at least one, maybe two Z80's even if there was no readily apparent reason why it should have one (or two). I will defer to Cathode Ray Dude here: What follows is a joke, but only barely
The Z80 is the basis of the MSX, the IBM PC of Japan, which was produced through a system of hardware and software licensing to third party manufacturers by Microsoft of Japan which was exactly as confusing as it sounds. The result is that the Z80, originally intended for embedded applications, ended up forming the basis of an entire alternate branch of the PC family tree.
It is important to note that the Z80 is boring. It is a normal-ass chip but it just so happens that it ended up being the focal point of like a dozen different industries all looking for a cheap, easy to program chip they could shove into Appliances.
Effectively everything that happened to the Intel 8080 happened to the Z80 and then some. Black market clones, reverse engineered Soviet compatibles, licensed second party manufacturers, hundreds of semi-compatible bastard half-sisters made by anyone with a fab, used in everything from toys to industrial machinery, still persisting to this day as an embedded processor that is probably powering something near you quietly and without much fuss. If you have one of those old TI-86 calculators, that's a Z80. Oh also a horrible hybrid Z80/8080 from Sharp powered the original Game Boy.
I was going to try and find a picture of a Z80 by just searching for it and look at this mess! There's so many of these things.
I mean the C/PM computers. The ZX Spectrum, I almost forgot that one! I can keep making this list go! So many bits of the Tech Explosion of the 80's and 90's are powered by the Z80. I was not joking when I said that you sometimes found more than one Z80 in a single computer because you might use one Z80 to run the computer and another Z80 to run a specialty peripheral like a video toaster or music synthesizer. Everyone imaginable has had their hand on the Z80 ball at some point in time or another. Z80 based devices probably launched several dozen hardware companies that persist to this day and I have no idea which ones because there were so goddamn many.
The Z80 eventually got super efficient due to process shrinks so it turns up in weird laptops and handhelds! Zilog and the Z80 persist to this day like some kind of crocodile beast, you can go to RS components and buy a brand new piece of Z80 silicon clocked at 20MHz. There's probably a couple in a car somewhere near you.
Pentium (P5 microarchitecture)
Yeah I am going to bring up the Hackers chip. The Pentium P5 series is currently remembered for being the chip that Acidburn geeks out over in Hackers (1995) instead of making out with her boyfriend, but it is actually noteworthy IMO for being one of the first mainstream chips to start pulling serious tricks on the system running it.
The P5 comes out swinging with like four or five tricks to get around the numerous problems with x86 and deploys them all at once. It has superscalar pipelining, it has a RISC microcode, it has branch prediction, it has a bunch of zany mathematical optimizations, none of these are new per se but this is the first time you're really seeing them all at once on a chip that was going into PC's.
Without these improvements it's possible Intel would have been beaten out by one of its competitors, maybe Power or SPARC or whatever you call the thing that runs on the Motorola 68k. Hell even MIPS could have beaten the ageing cancerous mistake that was x86. But by discovering the power of lying to the computer, Intel managed to speed up x86 by implementing it in a sensible instruction set in the background, allowing them to do all the same clever pipelining and optimization that was happening with RISC without having to give up their stranglehold on the desktop market. Without the P5 we live in a very, very different world from a computer hardware perspective.
From this falls many of the bizzare microcode execution bugs that plague modern computers, because when you're doing your optimization on the fly in chip with a second, smaller unix hidden inside your processor eventually you're not going to be cryptographically secure.
RISC is very clearly better for, most things. You can find papers stating this as far back as the 70's, when they start doing pipelining for the first time and are like "you know pipelining is a lot easier if you have a few small instructions instead of ten thousand massive ones.
x86 only persists to this day because Intel cemented their lead and they happened to use x86. True RISC cuts out the middleman of hyperoptimizing microcode on the chip, but if you can't do that because you've girlbossed too close to the sun as Intel had in the late 80's you have to do something.
The Future
This gets us to like the year 2000. I have more chips I find interesting or cool, although from here it's mostly microcontrollers in part because from here it gets pretty monotonous because Intel basically wins for a while. I might pick that up later. Also if this post gets any longer it'll be annoying to scroll past. Here is a sample from a post I have in my drafts since May:
I have some notes on the weirdo PowerPC stuff that shows up here it's mostly interesting because of where it goes, not what it is. A lot of it ends up in games consoles. Some of it goes into mainframes. There is some of it in space. Really got around, PowerPC did.
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I return two months later with another people standing image but this time it's Younger Character Designs for the Wayfinder Trio, because I don't think they should look exactly the same for four years straight of their adolescence. So this is how I imagine them when Ven had only just arrived in the Land of Departure
Thought-process notes under the cut (mild spoilers ig):
Terra:
-I think Terra is a creature of habit and has been dressing mostly the same since at least puberty, especially since his style is the most like Eraqus' (in my opinion) and I think most people would copy their parents less as they get closer to adulthood instead of more, but what do I know? Idk what I'm even talking about half the time. It's ultimately vibes, I just think that's his brand of autism. But I had to do it at least a little differently to justify the drawing
-Obviously he is like four years younger or something here so he's not as good at things yet or he would've just taken the Mark of Mastery then, so he's got a wrist brace to show he has fucked up his wrist. To show he's still not good at things. I am very intelligent
-I didn't want to draw the full arm piece but I pretend it's because he hasn't worked his way up to handling that much extra weight on one side yet
-I think the red shirt and the patterns look nice so I also did that
-Aqua cut his hair and she isn't that good at it
-I think he's meant to have brown eyes
Aqua:
-She's got so many flowy bits in her canon outfit and I think it probably took her awhile to achieve the kind of control needed for those to not just be a hazard, so at this point she's a younger teen and she isn't there yet, but she can still afford to add a bit of flair
-I was looking at ballet warm-up clothes like those trash bag shorts cause she's got this dancer thing going on
-She and Terra have the same style of shirt because I thought it would be cute and emphasize their closeness as well as the fact that Ven is somewhat of an outsider here at this point
-She has a knee thing. She hurt her knee. She probably fell trying to figure out that fuckass twirl she does sometimes or something
-She cut her own hair but had Terra help with the back. Mistakes were made
-Terra's nails are painted, too, I just drew him with the wrong hand position to show it. The two of them have been the only other kids around for a good while so they hang out when they're supposed to be asleep sometimes to study their keyblade stuff and then get distracted with something silly and joke back and forth, and they paint each other's nails and share clothes sometimes, although this is getting harder cause they're less and less the same size. And then the next day, Eraqus has to tell them off because Aqua is mad Terra's hogging the bathroom and now they're at each other's throats. Just the way it is
Ventus:
-I can write off everyone looking the same in the flashbacks in BBS cause it was a PSP game and they'd already made a lot of new character models so like. I can think "it was just a practicality thing, they probably didn't actually look the same back then" but Ventus also has the same outfit in UX and I pretend I do not see it. There's no way. He needs something else, his skin is sticking to his clothes. It's just not right, it's not ethical, he's only a boy
-I let him keep the waistcoat though cause it feels SO UX era, everyone in that damn game has a little waistcoat and then no one (?) in the console games does. So my thought process is that this one thing is for SURE from tha past and he just keeps wearing it. He's a little vintage
-He has shorts because ummm :P
-Sora had shorts both as a little baby in BBS and a larger baby in KH1, and then as he's been depicted as less kiddish and more teenaged they have him in those cropped pants now. So it's a Sora parallel. Shorts are just the little boys garment
-"But what if his legs get cold?" Well clearly I thought of that
-He has no armor bits because at this point in time he's just been through a lot of trauma and has only just woken up from a mild coma (for him), so he's all kinds of unwell and I don't think he's really doing any proper training yet. Eraqus already kind of babied him in the main story, so he was probably truly swaddled back then. He's dressed for COMFORT
-This meant he also needed different shoes so I drew some. They're not very remarkable
-I gave him a little jacket because I tried drawing him just without one and I didn't like it, he didn't look enough like he spends his days skulking around and looking sad and not getting to hit things with his keyblade, so I gave him something haori-adjacent like it's maybe something Eraqus had lying around and let him wear like how my mom starts putting her jackets on me when she thinks I'm acting sick. But it has black and white checks on the sleeves because I had to put them SOMEWHERE or else it wouldn't be right and every other option I could think of sounded ugly
-I CAN'T EXPLAIN THE LEGWARMERS, I just wanted him to have a unique silhouette that makes him look like he's been sitting the fuck around
-He just has the same hair as he had in UX, which is his original hair but shorter
That's it unless I forgot something in which case you can ask and I may or may not have an answer.
I might also draw Vanitas in this time period even though I'd just give him the same outfit he always has since it's a magic outfit or whatever, but like for the sake of imagining him Small. Vote now on your phones if I should or not so I can disregard it and do whatever I feel like anyway
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Yay, yummy new character. Also slight zezevine content.
I
v
.
He's still holding the damn fan even when working, how iconic.
The first panel made me laugh ngl.
But hey, at least Zeze had somewhat of a good manner in front of women. Still, lot of potential here. Those two being partners would be hilarious and also really fucking interesting.
I hope them both get more screentime because holy fuck, they are underrated af.
They looked amazing in the student council uniform btw, just wanted to point that out but alas is it a surprise that Nishi Osamu makes breathtaking designs of characters?
New. Character. YES.
.
She's so cute I love her already. Her character design is compelling, the showcase of her personality is pretty cute.
Also her and Iruma's army with the kouhais? FUCK YEAH, MORE FUCKING YUMMY FLUFF DYNAMICS LET'S FUCKING GOO.
I am so damn excited to see what's next. The arc is starting pretty nice so far in my opinion! I forgot to say this but-
.
My live reaction:
YES PRAISE HER M O R E.
Chima complimenting Silvia made my multishipper heart flutter. They are so adorable I swear to god. Yabashi, ( de-man guy ) is like the guy I want to see more in the story. He is so cute, seriously he went to Scary Bad Boy -> Cute Socially Awkward. It's so damn funny I can't-
Anyways besides all that, I hoped you somewhat enjoyed my rant of the recent chapters of Mairuma, I hope you have a good day or night guys, gals and non-binary pals!
#mairimashita! iruma kun#welcome to demon school iruma kun#m!ik#mairuma#iruma suzuki#mairimashita iruma kun#asmodeus alice#clara valac#silvia sabnock
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Obey me Brothers x chubby reader/Mc
Something for fun for my fellow plus size peeps out there.
Edit: there is now a Part 2 with the Dateables
I lowkey want to do a little more nsfw version, so if you guys want it let me know.
~~~~~~~
Lucifer
If you don't sit in that mans lap this instan-
Lucifer has no reservations about telling you how attractive you are to him. This man will cage you in his arms and make you feel tiny in the best possible way. Having you on his arm is a source of pride for him, and he will let you know all night if he must
Likes having a hand on your leg and giving the occasional squeeze when you're sitting next to each other.
Mammon
Crush him. Just do it. He's a demon he won't die. And if he does,what a way to go. So lay on him, get on his lap, sit on his f-
Mammon heard one of the photographers he knew was looking for plus size models for the next shoot he was on and immediately brought you in. He loves those photos and has them framed and everything. Even though he plays it off in typical Mammon fashion.
He really likes your butt. You have caught him sneaking a peak more than once. I don’t care if you're part of the no ass club. He’s still looking, because your butt is the best one to him.
Leviathan
Crush him part 2
Will probably know of an anime with a title that is way too damn long with a chubby waifu to compare you to. Mark my damn words.
Loves to lay on your stomach while watching anime. Also wrapping his arms around your waist. Or wrapping his tail around your middle instead if he's gaming with both hands, he just loves to feel you tbh.
Levi is that person who self deprecates but will not allow you to do that to yourself. You are literally the hottest person to him??? And you don't think you are the best thing that happened to him? Excuse you!
Satan
Hear me out: Satan is a thigh man. So your cute self with your thicc thighs to him is…*chef's kiss*
Likes having a hand on your belly while you snuggle up to him while reading. He just does it absentmindedly.
If you mention never seeing yourself reflected in the books you have read, Satan has a plethora of reading material. He already has a few books with a chubby protagonist he found years ago. Will then be sure to keep an eye out for more books you might like in the future.
Satan has zero tolerance for anyone who is rude to you. The Avatar of Wrath does not play.
Asmodeus
Asmo has had many different lovers over centuries of different beauty standards. Sexy is sexy to him, and my love you are in that category.
Literally obsessed. Your stomach,thighs,chest, everything. He will grab anything and everything and fawn. This man is down bad.
Knows all the brands that cater to plus size people that aren't just a sack to wear. Loves to shop for you. Model for him darling.
Always has you in mind when he works with fashion brands to design stuff.
An expert in gassing you up.
Beelzebub
Even if you are tall, I feel like Beel is capable of making anyone feel small in comparison, no matter the body type.
Beel is the least judgmental, especially around food. If you are self conscious about eating in front of people, Beel is going to dispel those worries real quick. Trust me, no one will think about you when this guy is over there scarfing down the whole buffet.
Hugs. He loves hugging you.
I don't care who the fuck you are or how big you are. Never in your mf life say you are too heavy to lift,even as joke. Beel will do it. Bridal,over the shoulder,on the back. Even without being a demon he is strong as hell. You are a talking paper weight to this man.
Belphegor
Ah yes, a human pillow just for Belphie. So soft,so warm. Don't crawl into bed,it's a trap. He won't let you leave.
Belphie gives me the vibe of,out of all the brothers, he’s the one with an outright preference for someone chubbier. He’s just always found it attractive. So when he first saw you in the attic, on the inside he was like “God damn it…No,Belphie focus. They Are human and you're just lonely. Pull yourself together!”
If you have ever seen the tik tok of that guy raving about chubby girls. That’s Belphie. “Have you ever cuddled a fat girl? It is like spooning with the pillow of God!” Needless to say, cuddling you is his favorite thing. Man has a vice grip on you until he wakes up.
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me headcanons#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me levi#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmo#obey me asmodeus#obey me beel#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphie#obey me belphegor#obey me x reader#lucifer x reader#mammon x reader#leviathan x reader#satan x reader#asmodeus x reader#beel x reader#belphie x reader
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flowers and ink (part 2)
Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington
Summary: Eddie and Steve like each other, but unfortunately Eddie thinks Steve is dating Robin, and they're both generally just gay disasters who don't know how to communicate
(part one found here)
Word Count: 3K
Warnings: Tattoo Artist!Eddie, Florist!Steve, fluff, gay panic, Platonic Soulmates Steve and Robin, Will is here and we love him, everybody is a sweetheart and an idiot, it's just cute and funny
A/N: Ha ha, remember when I said this would be two parts? I'm having so much fun with it that I'm making it three parts. I hope you don't mind??? Also this story is officially cross posted on Ao3 for those interested!
“Steve, did you give Eddie a 50% tip?” Robin asked as they walked out of Ink About It.
“Well, I’ve never been that great at math,” Steve mumbled, blushing.
“Uh-huh. I’m sure that’s the reason.”
“He did a great job?” Steve offered. He wasn’t even sure why he was denying the obvious. Robin knew Steve way too well to play these games.
“You like Eddie,” she stated.
“I barely know him,” Steve shrugged.
“Yeah, but his work is permanently on your skin forever,” Robin pointed out.
“Jesus, why did you have to say that?” Steve whined with a groan. “He’s hot, okay? Will you just leave it?”
He knew she wouldn’t leave it. It was kind of her specialty.
“It was just so cute seeing you be all flirty with him,” Robin said.
“God, I hope it wasn’t that obvious.”
“Don’t worry, he was too focused on his work to notice,” she assured him. “Come on, we just did something big, let’s celebrate!”
So, they did.
The next time they worked together, the teasing was relentless. Steve couldn’t escape it due to the tattoo shop being right through the glass. He couldn’t help trying to see if Eddie was in there.
“Oh my god, just go back there and talk to him,” Robin suggested.
“I can’t just go there, Robin,” Steve replied. “I’d have to, like, make another appointment or something.”
“You’re willing to get a new tattoo every time you see this guy, Dingus?” Steve chuckled.
“If I have to, sure.” Robin smacked him playfully on the arm.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Oh, and you’re any better?” Steve challenged. “Remind me again why you started working here.” Robin rolled her eyes.
“Whatever, we’re both gay disasters,” she replied. “I still think you should go over there. I’ll cover for you.”
“Wait, you mean now?” Steve asked, confused.
“Yeah,” Robin confirmed. “It’s been so slow I’m going crazy, Harrington. I need something to spice up the day, and this fits the bill.” She put her hands on his chest and pushed him backwards toward the front door. “Do it. Go.” Steve sighed.
“It’s a good thing I love you, Buckley.”
And with that, he was off to the tattoo parlor.
-
Bob took the morning off to take Will to brunch, leaving Eddie alone in the shop. He didn’t mind holding the fort, because he could plan breaks and moments to relax based on the appointments he had for the day. Tattoo shops were chill.
Most people generally knew not to walk into a tattoo place without notice. Appointments and communication beforehand were necessary so that the artist could design and adjust, plan their day, etc.
Steve apparently didn’t have that memo. But when he sauntered into Ink About It, Eddie didn’t care about his lack of a heads up.
He was wearing his work polo - light blue with the name of the flower shop over his heart. He looked a bit nervous, but Eddie figured that was because the man clearly did not fit into a place like this.
“Back for more already?” Eddie teased. Steve blushed, and it was cute how nervous tattooing made him. He wondered if Steve regretted getting one in the first place.
“I just have a question,” Steve said. He walked up to the counter and leaned his elbows on it, making the height difference between them drastic enough where Steve had to angle his chin up to make eye contact.
“Shoot,” Eddie permitted.
“Is the damn thing supposed to like - peel?” Steve asked.
Eddie just about lost it. He never wanted to make someone feel bad for not knowing these things, but Steve was just so goddamn cute about it. He pressed his lips together as tightly as he could so he wouldn’t give himself away, then nodded.
“Yup,” Eddie answered. “The first week or so you’ll see it flake off. Don’t pick at it or scrub it or anything.”
“Would it come off if I do?” Steve asked.
Okay. Now the guy HAD to be fucking with him. Don’t laugh don’t laugh be professional do what Bob would do.
“I - uh, well no I’m afraid tattoos are permanent, Steve,” Eddie responded. Steve looked at him dumbly for a second, then shifted back up to standing and burst out laughing.
Eddie watched, confused, until Steve spoke again.
“I’m just fucking with you Eddie. I may not know a lot about tattoos, but I know they’re permanent, okay?” Eddie seeing Steve goof around like this was charming in a way Eddie hadn’t seen yet. He’d really only known Steve with a brave face on, caring for Robin when she got scared. Eddie had already been crushing on Steve, and hearing him laugh now took the crush to new heights.
“Oh,” Eddie said, smiling back with a light chuckle. “Alright then. So yeah, if it’s flaking that’s okay, but I can look at it if you want.” Steve nodded, so Eddie gestured for them to go back to the space where Steve got the tattoo in the first place.
Steve stood there awkwardly, looking at the table he was supposed to sit on, then down at his ankle, then back up.
“How do you want me?” he asked.
Eddie really wished he didn’t say that.
“Uh, you can just sit like you did the other day and pull your pant leg up.” Steve did as told, crossing his left leg over his right so his ankle was in clear view.
Eddie knew at first glance it was healing just fine, but he lingered on his work for an extra few seconds, just to extend the moment as much as he could.
“So, what’s the verdict?” Steve asked, nervously. Eddie shook his head to get himself out of his daze.
“Everything looks good,” he confirmed. “Maybe a bit dry. Are you putting lotion on it?”
Steve nodded, then named a kind of lotion Eddie knew was shit for this sort of thing, but it would do in a pinch. Eddie caught sight of the clock and realized Bob was going to show up with Will any moment.
“I guess I should head out,” Steve said, noticing Eddie’s focus drifting to the time.
“Uh, right,” Eddie said. He really did need Steve to go, but he didn’t want him to. “Yeah, I got - the manager is coming in soon with this kid who I guess is into art. I’m supposed to show him the ropes and -” Eddie paused, realizing he was just about to spill his whole guts to Steve without even thinking about it.
“And?” Steve pressed. Shit. Eddie took a deep breath.
“I guess the kid just came out and Bob thinks he needs another gay person to talk to or something,” Eddie admitted.
“Oh,” Steve replied. Eddie couldn’t read his expression. He definitely looked a bit surprised, but most people did. Eddie couldn’t even count the amount of times someone had said something like, I had no idea. You don’t look it. Like, what the fuck does that even mean? He waited for Steve to say something similar, but instead the door opened.
“Hey, Eds, we’re back!” Bob announced from the waiting area.
“Uh, good luck,” Steve mumbled, fixing his pant leg and standing up. He turned to leave, but froze when he saw the kid. “Will?”
“Steve?!”
“Wait, you two know each other?” Eddie asked, confused.
“Uh, yeah. I kinda used to babysit him,” Steve answered. “How have you been, dude? You’re almost as tall as me now!”
Eddie and Bob watched as Will ran to Steve and hugged him, both of them smiling warmly.
“I’m good! Things are good!” Will said. He separated from Steve and looked to Eddie. “You must be the artist Bob has told me about.”
“That’s me,” Eddie replied with a wave. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Well, I gotta get back to work,” Steve said, knowing that he was no longer supposed to be there. “But you’re in good hands with Eddie. He just gave me my first tattoo and he’s pretty great.”
Eddie had no idea why Steve was complimenting him so much. He could feel himself blushing.
“You work at the place across the street?” Will asked. Steve nodded.
“Yup, with Robin,” he answered.
“Oh, how’s she doing?” Will asked.
“She’s good. Same as always. Still the best person I know.”
Aww. That was sweet. But also annoying. For Eddie, anyway. Their goddamn relationship was long term and solid as ever, apparently.
Steve insisted again that he should get going, and then he was off.
“So,” Eddie said, clapping his hands together. “What do you want to see first?”
They started with a tour of the place. Eddie showed Will his tattooing space first, going over the tools and explaining how it all worked. Then, Will started asking Eddie about his own tattoos, so they went over all of those next. It took a long time, because Eddie had a lot of tattoos to explain, each of them with their own backstory.
Some backstories were more involved and coherent than others. Some of them just consisted of, “oh yeah, I was kinda tipsy and it seemed like a good idea at the time. Don’t do that by the way.”
“I don’t want a tattoo, anyway,” Will had responded. Eddie nodded, but had an inkling from the way Will was so fascinated by all this that he’d change his mind someday.
After that, Eddie showed Will a bunch of designs he’d done in the past, then a few he was currently working on. Will ended up showing Eddie some of the drawings he’d done.
“Oh, shit,” Eddie said, completely blown away. “You’re really talented, man.”
“Thanks,” Will replied with a smile. “I’ve been doing it my whole life.”
“That’s awesome. So, you think you’re gonna get into tattooing?”
“I dunno, maybe,” he responded with a shrug. “I’m going to college in the fall for art, but I don’t really know what I’m gonna do with it yet.”
“That’s soooo normal,” Eddie replied. He’d heard people say as much often, so he figured he’d pass the knowledge along. “I didn’t go to college, but I found my place here. I wasn’t an artist my whole life like you, but it turned out to kind of be perfect for me.”
“Isn’t it weird to have your designs on people’s bodies forever?”
“It’s kind of awesome, actually,” Eddie said with a grin. “It was a little wild at first to work on skin, but thankfully they had me start on oranges, first.”
“Really?” Will asked, amused. “I had no idea!”
“Yeah!” Eddie responded. “You wanna try?”
“You just have an orange lying around?”
“I like citrus, what can I tell ya.”
Will practiced a few designs under Eddie’s watch. He caught a glimpse of Bob in the office, smiling at the two of them bonding.
Will was cool. He was sweet. He was also sarcastic in a sneaky way. Sometimes he’d say something that caught Eddie off guard, just because Will seemed shy and quiet at first. He wasn’t, really.
“I know why Bob wanted me to meet you,” Will said. They’d peeled the orange and were now splitting it.
“Hm?” Eddie asked. “I mean, so you could check out the shop, right?”
“It’s okay, I know he wants me to talk to other gay people,” Will pointed out, rolling his eyes. “Bob isn’t that slick.”
Eddie chuckled. Smart kid.
“Yeah, well I’ll talk about it if you want me to, but figured I’d let you bring it up first. When I was your age, I didn’t really wanna talk to anyone, but you’re a lot different than I was.”
“What do you mean?” Will asked.
“Uhhhhhhh….” Eddie looked around nervously. Bob had closed the door to the office. “I was all over the place back then. I was the school freak - that’s literally what they called me.”
Eddie had gotten over the trauma of high school the last few years. His life stabilized, and he realized all the shit people thought about him were irrelevant. He left all of it behind, and he was a lot happier now.
“People bully me too,” Will confessed quietly.
“People suck,” Eddie said with a sigh. “I guess that much hasn’t changed since I graduated. Maybe we aren’t so different after all, then.”
Eddie didn’t think Will dealt drugs or got into fights like Eddie used to, but people don’t have to go through the same things to feel the same things.
-
HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT.
Eddie’s gay. This changes everything.
Steve did his best to exit Ink About It calmly, and it took everything in him not to fully sprint across the street. He still ended up doing a fast walk that was basically a jog.
He flung himself to the door and opened it, taking a deep breath.
“Robin!” he shouted.
His eyes focused on the absolute chaos happening in the shop. People were everywhere, like what the fuck? Robin was manning the register and answering questions as best as she could, but she was clearly in over her head.
“Help,” she mouthed with terror in her eyes.
Steve desperately wanted to tell her that this was karma for her saying she was bored and sending Steve away. He also wanted to tell her about his time at Ink About It. But there were other priorities first.
Steve quickly swooped in to help her cash customers out. She scurried to the back to handle the many customers who wanted to know about the various flowers being sold.
Steve was able to gather through small talk with the customers that prom was happening at the school down the road, and everyone was getting last minute flowers for their dates.
More accurately, the parents were. Some brave kids showed up, but they looked completely lost.
They continued working until the rush died down, leaving the two of them on the edge of exhaustion.
“That was brutal,” Steve muttered as he splayed himself across the counter.
“So brutal,” Robin agreed. She was lying fully on the ground, starfish style. Bits of stems and flower petals surrounded her. It was kind of pretty, actually.
“Hold on, stay right there,” Steve said, pulling his phone from his pocket. Before Robin could object, Steve snapped a picture from above.
“Hey!” she said, sitting up. “I don’t want this moment of my life documented, Steven!”
“Yes, you do. Look.” Steve bent down and showed her the picture. After a moment, she nodded.
“Okay, fine. Yes. That’s going on my Instagram, thank you.”
“You should put it on your Hinge profile, too,” Steve suggested.
“Good idea,” Robin agreed. She jumped to her feet and sighed. “I’m gonna go clean up the back.”
“I’ll be here,” Steve replied.
Ten minutes went by, and then Steve heard a squealing.
“Shit! Fuck!” Robin didn’t actually curse that often, so Steve knew something must be very wrong.
“Robs? You okay back there?” He rounded the corner just as Robin squatted behind some bouquets, concealing herself.
“Don’t!” she yelled. “Okay, well actually I do need your help, but you have to promise not to laugh.”
“I can’t promise that, but I’ll try,” Steve said with a smirk.
Robin straightened herself back up, and Steve got the full picture of what had happened. Her hair was all kinds of tangled in a watering can.
He laughed so hard he cried.
“I hate you, DIngus,” she muttered, not nearly as amused by the situation.
“This is why you leave the watering to me,” Steve joked. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”
-
This is stupid. This is so stupid. Eddie, you are stupid. Get some help.
He was headed to Flowers for All with unscented lotion. For Steve. Because Eddie had no chill and was a simp.
He didn’t even care if Steve was queer, or if he was taken. Eddie just wanted to talk to him more.
So stupid.
Eddie walked in, triggering the bell above the door. He quickly heard voices from the back.
“Shit! Someone’s here!”
“It’s ok I got it I got it.”
There were more sounds of shuffling for a few seconds before Steve tumbled out of a doorway, blushing.
Oh my god. Did I just interrupt them hooking up?
Eddie somehow felt even more like a dumbass. He wasn’t fazed by them getting it on at work - it’s not like he hadn’t done that before - it’s that he brought goddamn unscented lotion to his client’s place of work, unannounced and unprompted.
“I - shit, sorry,” Eddie said, just about ready to turn and bolt.
“It’s okay!” Steve assured him. “What’s going on Eddie?”
Robin ran out of the room so fast she almost fell over.
“Eddie! What a wonderful surprise!”
There was a teasing quality to her voice that Eddie mistook for her trying to cover up how flustered she was. This was all but confirmed when Steve gently elbowed her in the rib.
“I brought this for you,” Eddie said. He raised the stupid fucking lotion so it was in plain view, then forced himself to walk to the counter and leave it there. “It’s what I use. Your tattoo will heal better. Uh - both of them. For both of you, I mean.”
“Hey, thanks, man.” Steve smiled and grabbed the lotion, inspecting it.
“Do all tattoo artists care this much about their clients?” Robin asked. There was that teasing sound again. Is she jealous or something?
“Well, I - Bob always tells me to be nice so I do my best. Sorry if I interrupted anything.”
Steve and Robin shared a knowing look.
“You didn’t,” Steve said casually. “We’re finally dead again, which is the way we like it.”
“Yeah,” Robin agreed. “It was rough earlier, but we survived.”
“We always do,” Steve added.
They were so friendly and kind, and they clearly loved each other very much. Eddie knew he needed to go. He had to go. He just needs to say goodbye, turn around, and -
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you guys about something,” Eddie blurted out.
Shit.
He didn’t actually have anything to talk about. But luckily, one of his special skills included the ability to never shut the fuck up.
He took a deep breath and decided to do a little improv.
(part three)
-----------------------
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#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#will byers#robin buckley#bob newby#flowers and ink#modern day au#eddie munson x steve harrington#steve and eddie#writing#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#st fic#st fanfic
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Do you have any recommendations for comics on tapas? I'm rather new to the app so I wondered if you had any. Sorry if someone already asked!
Oh, so many! Tapas was one of my OG homes waaay back in the day, when I was still getting into drawing comics (back then it was gag-a-days). I spent a lot of time reading comics on there and it was one of my first introductions to comic platforms in general (next to SmackJeeves, RIP).
Rock and Riot - 1950's LGBTQ+ gangster teenagers getting into shenanigans and turf wars. Very cute and fun and adorable <3
Monster Pop! - Monster girls who are besties! This one has some real gorgeous art especially if you like the original vibes of S1 LO, lots of bright beautiful colors and lineless shapes. The creator of this comic, mayakern, now develops comfortable and eco-friendly skirts with her wife and pals for plus-sized folks! (they have pockets!)
A BETTER PLACE - Young girl Hannah and her little brother Theo find something cool in the woods. Children becoming gods. This was one of those comics that had some REALLY cool "you had to be there" time travel elements that aren't quite as immersive in hindsight (I was one of those people who were there and DAMN it was awesome), but it's still absolutely worth the read and it operates as a sort of prequel to another one of Harry Bogosian's comics on the platform.
Fail by Error - This comic is long since done with, its creator having moved on to bigger things, but at one point in time, this was the titan series on Tapas, before the platform became predominantly BL's and isekais. Fail by Error was truly one of the best of the best of Tapas-hosted comics from its golden era of comedy comics. Also the creator made art for me once and I still have it! <3
(my babieees <3)
RandoWis - funny gag strip is funny ! He also draws an MMO-themed comic that - coincidentally - when I double checked, looks like it stopped updating in 2021 until two days ago. So yeah, good time to check that one out too!
Undying Happiness - Naomi takes a chance on love and decides to meet up with a guy she met online. He turns out to not look like the guy in the photos in the most hilariously absurd way.
Deep Fried Pudge - Okay, this is a really weird inclusion because like... this comic isn't good. This comic is painfully bad. Like, "roll your eyes into the back of your skull at your dad's stupid jokes" bad. This comic has not stopped updating daily since 2012. It literally just had its 11 year anniversary. Every update is just a single panel either making some pun or just stating very innocent, inoffensive opinions. There are four thousand of these things. And every single one is done with the same art style and joke structure as before, the comics from today look and feel like a 7 year old made them the exact same way they did 10 years ago, as if trapped in a hellish time capsule of its own design, and I love it, I freaking love it. Its existence quite literally defies human nature. Reading it and attempting to comprehend why it exists is like staring into the eyes of some Eldritch god that chose peace over chaos. Pudge will outlive all of us. Pudge will outlive the universe. All hail Pudge.
#there are definitely tons more that i haven't unlocked in my brain#i spent so much of my formative webcomic years on tapas man#i miss the way it used to be#like yeah ok it has actual branding and its own originals catalogue now#but what it is today is only a fraction of what it used to be in terms of its community and culture#i haven't been on tapas since 2020ish and like#it was a good decision to leave#but damn i miss it sometimes#there are some genuinely amazing hidden treasures on it that either got buried or just stopped updating but are still 100% worth reading#webcomic recommendations#tapas#tapastic#webtoon recommendations#ama#ask me anything#anon ama#anon ask me anything
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