My drawing of Eddie being unsure of Richie’s fashion choices!! Please don’t repost!!
richie tozier, being fucking bisexual while wearing a hawaiian shirt: NOW THIS IS A FRESH FIT
gonna be preaching bi eddie/gay richie til the day I die
In It Chapter Two, when the Losers were gathering their artifacts, Eddie Kaspbrak was the ONLY one to actually fight back against Pennywise.
Eddie was the bravest Loser.
He sacrificed his life for Richie.
And in return, the Losers left his body alone in the lair of the thing that murdered him.
It is such an oversight to me that Andy Muschietti didn’t make Bill Hader wear brown contacts when he played Richie. Richie’s eye color is listed as brown on his missing poster in the first movie, because Finn Wolfhard’s eyes are brown. It’s such a minor detail but it really bothers me.
richie in like, all of my fucking fics:
Yeah, hey, predictive text
Uhhhhhh, what the fuck
The joys of being a (predominantly) Non Binary/ Genderfluid cosplayer….
I can go from this:
(Out of cosplay)
(Richie Tozier- IT Chapter 2)
(L-R, top-bottom: Sam Winchester, Hades (an ‘80s AU version, Lucius Malfoy, Crowley (genderbend, with Mark Sheppard himself!) and my Ghost OC Pip, with Cardinal Copia)
I love being a shapeshifter/ cosplayer 🤣
My Genderfluidity does mostly come into play when I cosplay, but sometimes when I want to present a certain way, so masc leaning or femme leaning (though that’s mostly “Gothing” it up when I feel slightly feminine 😂)
like or reblog if you use/save
ive been ghosting, ive been ghosting along!
love me some eddie kasprak angst baby!!!
I will bet y’all a whole 2 pennies that if Richie woulda just yelled “okay boomer” at Pennywise in IT: Chapter 2 he would have disintegrated on the spot
“Lo bueno de ser un perdedor es que no tienes nada que perder”.
If it wasn’t for you,
I’d still be alive
Patty after being introduced to most of the Losers club : And who’s the boy with the glasses?
I want to know what love is
tysm,, im so glad u liked ‘i could never’ this request was vv fun to do ty💕
a/n: this turned out less switch-y and I’ll probably go back and edit it later, hope u like it!
contains: smut, praise, fluff, pining, fingering
“dance with me.”
you raise an eyebrow at richie whos extended his arm towards you. the two of you were in the clubhouse alone, mindlessly going through comics while richies Walkman blared on in the background.
“didnt know you could dance.”
“I cant, now, please join me in not dancing.”
you roll your eyes fondly and take his hand, letting him pull you up from where you’re sat on the ground. you stumble slightly in his hold and he puts a hand on your waist to 'keep you steady.’
“and i cant have my girl falling can I?”
you blush. it’s a little late for that, you think as you look at him, the way hes illuminated by lampshades in the corner. the slant of his cheekbone, the sweep of his hair, it’s very, very late to stop me from falling.
richie was always saying things like that. you were sure he didnt mean them but it was nice to hear. the rest of the losers never commented on the way you two seemed to always be holding hands, the way he gave you his jacket when it got cold at the quarry at night, not caring when your wet hair dampened it, the way he would play with your hair when he was bored or the way you would blush when he pulled you into his lap at parties. it was what friends do, you convinced yourself, it doesn’t mean anything.
you remember one night, while walking home from the quarry with richie, your hair soaked and your skin freezing, richie insisted on you stopping at his house. there, he let you dry off and change into clothes that weren’t soaking wet. that night, when your mother asked you whose sweater you were wearing, you looked down at it, picking at the hem. it was a soft olive green sweater with the words 'i banged your mom’ scrawled into the cuff in richies messy handwriting. a small sense of calmness washed over you from wearing richies clothes. you shook your head and said, “a friend, mom, just a friend.”
“you’re a sap,” you say now, playing with the curls that are on the nape of his neck.
“you love it.”
theres a beat of silence as the last song ends.
I’ve gotta take a little time…
you throw you head back, sighing, “fuck me, I love this song.”
richie says you in his arms, smiling at your expression, “then let’s do it justice.”
you waltz a little in his arms, his gangly limbs awkward but careful with you. you pull him by his hands, “loosen up, cant do nothin with a stiff partner.”
he snorts, offended, “stiff?”
“as a tonne of bricks,” you say, smiling and he makes a move to kick your ankle but you dodge, “same pace as a tonne of bricks too.”
he laughs. his hands are at your waist, not any lower or any higher. you roll your eyes, “i’m sorry is this a middle school dance?” you giggle, teasing, “are we trying to leave enough room for the bible?”
you lean forward in his hold so one of his arms is wrapped more naturally around your waist, the other held out, his hand holding yours.
he hums into your hair, “this is cozy.” he sounds so content. it’s so fucking cute.
it is cozy. it doesnt feel weird. it feels normal to be this close to him, “yeah, I guess it is.”
I better read between the lines
in case I need it when I’m older
the movement of your feet make the floorboards creak but you can barely hear it over the steady thump of richies heart beat. like a drum in his chest.
it keeps me warm as life grows colder.
yours and richies movements are slow and steady, the two of you swaying in each others arms, his hand holding yours, his fingers placed over your knuckles. you were sure that if you straightened your palms against each other, your fingers would end an inch below his. was it normal to find a boy’s hands so attractive? bigger question: was it normal to find your friend’s hands so attractive? you push those thoughts away. just friends.
he rests his chin at the crown of your head. it feels nice. it feels like you belong stationed in his arms. you can smell the soft smoke in his clothes and the cologne on his neck. you catch a whiff of mint body wash.
cant stop now, I’ve traveled so far
to change this lonely life
his curls brush up against your face and you giggle, blowing them out the way. in doing, so your face moves closer to his. you’re right against the bridge of his nose, his doe eyes looking at you through their thick lenses. theres a moment of tension where you realise how close his lips are to yours. hes taller than you so hes leant down slightly. you hear his breath hitch. he looks like hes considering something and doing so very meticulously and you’re about to ask him what it is because richie never thinks. he just does. then his mouth is on yours.
I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
it’s no more than a peck. a quick, tender kiss and he barely has the chance to pull back before your hand moves to the back of his neck, pulling him into you again. more desperate. more hungrily.
I’ve gotta take a little time
a little time to look around me
you feel drunk from the feeling of him kissing you. its intoxicating. its addicting.
it looks like love has finally found me
his lips are a little chapped and raw from how much he bites them out of habit but they feel like they belong on yours.
I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
his hand -oh my god, his hands- has pulled from your waist and from holding yours, and cradles your face, like hes scared you might vanish if hes not touching you.
his voice raspy and strained, he murmers into your mouth, “I love you, fucking hell, i love you so much.”
“dont say that if you dont mean it.”
“i didnt and I’ll say it forever.”
I wanna know what love is
(let’s talk about love)
his words barely pass through his mouth before you’re kissing him again. you want to be kissing him forever.
i want you to show me
(I wanna feel)
your hands make a move for his belt buckle and he pulls back, admiring your flushed face an parted lips, slightly reddened from kissing. from kissing him. he grins a richie-lopsided grin, “do you want to-? we dont have to- I mean i what to but if you dont-”
hes spiralling a little and you can tell hes gonna head into word-vomit territory if you dont stop him. you tweak his nose gently in your hand, “beep beep richie,” you kiss him, softly, reassuringly, “I want to, like, really really want to, if you want to.”
he looks at you like you’ve asked the finest question in the world, “I want to,” he kisses your jaw, “more than anything.”
you feel yourself flush from the need in his voice. you made him feel like that. you made him look flushed and his hair rumpled and his glasses fogged. you did that.
you’ve barely realised that the song has ended and your heavy breathing occupies the space instead. it should feel awkward but it doesnt. as you and richie stumble to the couch that bill had brought down when his family were replacing theirs, you think, it feels right.
his lips brush up against the sensitive skin of your neck, nipping gently, “you’re so fucking perfect,” his hands are at your waist, but you feel the effect of it everywhere, “holy fucking shit you’re perfect, doll.”
“you ain’t so bad yourself,” you giggle, hands carding through his curls. he likes that, you note, hes pushing up against your touch as he leaves a trail of hickies down your neck, “mm, richie, people will see.”
“I know,” his voice sounds rough and wrecked. it makes you all the more needier for him, “gotta let everyone know who you belong to, dont I, doll?”
you keen from that, rolling your hips up onto his thigh, “fuck, yes, please,” you moan as his thigh slots firmly between yours. you’re sat on his lap at this point, the friction driving you crazy, “show me who I belong to.”
he groans at that and grips your hips harder, hitching your skirt up slightly, guiding you, “ride my thigh first, okay doll?”
you outright whimper.
he guides your hips up his thigh, the friction from your clothed clit grinding against the rough fabric of his jeans. he hums at the soft moans that fall out your mouth, “such pretty noises, doll, does my thigh feel that good on your pretty pussy?”
you feel yourself get wetter from his words, “yes, rich, yes, feels so good,” he palms your tits through your bra and you feel your knees buckle a little bit, “richie-!” you cut yourself off with a moan, rutting harder against him.
“d'you like that princess?” youd never admit the things that nickname did to you, “me playing with you?”
you nodded eagerly as richie pushed his head into the crook of your neck, moving your hips against him. you were so hot, grinding against him, begging and tugging on his hair.
the friction feels good, amazingly and incredibly good, but you want more.
he loved the way you said his name, “yeah doll?”
“want you inside me.”
richie couldve cum then.
he looks up at you, at your mussed hair and glassy eyes, “then i better give my girl what she wants, huh doll?”
you whimper as richie puts you on your back, his hand tracing the outline of your throbbing clit. his girl. kissing your face, he murmers, “so wet, princess,” his thumb presses to your clothed centre, “so good for me.”
you buck your hips up weakly, “please, rich, need it so bad.”
he presses a wet kiss to your clit, lips pressing against the damp fabric. its teasing and light and you still feel dizzy from it, “need what baby?”
whimpering as he peppers soft kisses to the inside of your thighs, “need your cock, please, need it so bad…”
pulling your panties off, he swipes a thumb across your entrance, the stimulation of it making you gasp, “fucking soaked, so good for me arent you?” you mewl as he pushes to fingers inside of you. his fingers hook up against your g-spot, curling deeper than you had ever been able to, “such a pretty pussy.”
his fingers move faster, his thumb rubbing your clit as you rock your hips up to him, babbling incoherently for more.
he fucked his fingers in and out of you, sliding his thumb against your swollen clit. he teased you perfectly, working you over until you were a whimpering mess underneath him.
you weren’t a virgin. but noone had made you feel so needy and so good so quickly. noone had been this eager to make you feel good.
he felt you dripping over his hands, his slick-covered fingers plunging in and out of you, pushing you closer to the edge. you could feel him as he curled his fingers up, hitting the perfect spot inside of you with each movement, the slick noises of his fingers inside of you bringing you closer.
he felt your cunt spasm around his fingers as he watched the way you fell apart for him, “you’re close,” he murmurs, quickening his movements on your walls and clit, “be good and cum all over my hand. show me how much you want me to fill this tight little pussy up, okay sweetheart?”
you cry out his name as you cum, fingers tightening in his hair, your legs wrapped around his waist, black spots crowding your vision.
its dizzying and too much and fucking amazing.
from what sounds like very far away you hear richie mumble, “holy shit, yn, you’re a fucking wet dream.”
you giggle, feeling a little hazy and fucked-out, “hurry up and fuck me, idiot.”
his head drops down to kiss you as he positions himself at your entrance, “dont have to tell me twice, honey.”
he pushes the head of his cock into you and you whimper, rolling your hips down to push him further into you. just the head of his shaft has you embarrasingly close to coming undone again. he stretches you around his thick length, your walls contracting around him as he works his way into you.
one hand on the back of your neck, he thrusts the rest of the way in, eliciting a soft moan as your hands ball into his shirt. he loves you like this, clinging to him while you cry out his name. you look like heaven and in that moment richie felt like the luckiest man on the face of the damned earth.
“that feel good sweetheart?” he presses his hand at where your skirt’s hitched up, night where hes filling you up, “feels good now that youre nice and full, huh?”
you had no idea you could be this turned on, “yes, god, fuck, you’re so good,” you praise, “your cock feels so good, baby.”
he was sliding into you, thrusting slowly.
you caught yourself marking up richies neck, eager to see his neck marked by you. youd never felt dominant in this way before, but now it seemed to come from nowhere. you liked the control you had over him. the feeling of knowing you had made him feel like this.
“fucking hell,” he mumbles, holding your legs apart to fuck you deeper, bouncing you on his cock in a way that made you whimper.
overstimulated, you feel the familiar tension in your abdomen, “fuck- richie-!”
you’re moaning, the sounds spilling from your mouth, begging, whining, whimpering. not for anything in particular, just begging.
he fills you perfectly, his thick member making your eyes water with pleasure. each movement has you rutting up, his thrusts pulling out sharp gasps from your throat.
“fuck,” he groans, your moans stirring him on as his thrusts pick up their pace, “you feel so good, so tight wrapped around my cock, baby,” his voice was low and rough, it sent a rush of heat straight between your legs. he lifts you up slightly, his hips slamming into you deeper, making you whine.
he toys with your clit, moaning into your mouth and god, he was fucking you so good. deeper than anyone you had ever been with, his cock pushing into your heat so well.
the clubhouse filled with the rapid slap of skin, the sounds making you gasp. you’re clenching hard around him, your walls contracting as he thrusted into you, faster now.
you almost scream when he bottoms out again, fucking you in earnest, the head of his cock grazing against your cervix. you clap a hand over your mouth, biting back the moan that was bubbling up.
richie tuts and pulls your hand aside, “dont be embarrassed, honey,” he jerks his hips up particularly hard, punctuating his speech, “wanna hear how good I make you feel.”
his pace was unforgiving as he fucked you into the couch, murmering praises and soft curses. his teeth graze your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, surely leaving marks as he moved to your collarbone. you mewl under his touch, the feeling of him pounding into you and him at your neck making the feeling in your stomach build.
the way you’re squeezing his cock as he thrusts into you, his base bumping against your clit, has him rolling his hips harder, roughly fucking you as he kisses your face.
he moans as he presses harder onto your clit, “please, ohmygod, please cum on my cock,” him begging for you to cum just pushed you over the edge, clenching around him so hard he could barely move, “fuck, j-ust like th-at, fuck, if you keep that up, I’m gonna-”
his thrusts get rougher and more needy and he absolutely loses any control he had when you tug on his hair, “please cum, richie, please, need you to fill me up.”
he grunts, spilling inside you with a buck of his hips, his mouth on yours like hes trying to breath you in and you’re trying to breath him in right back.
the words spill from your lips like they’re the easiest thing in the world, “I love you, fucking hell, i love you so much,” you press quick kisses up his flushed face, “i love you, i love you, i love you.”
he pants onto your mouth as he murmers back, “i love you too.”
youre so caught up in how pretty he looks, that you dont notice the scuff of shoes at the ladder rungs.
by the time you do hear it, you barely have time to pull your skirt over the mess between your legs, richie tucking himself back into his pants.
stan and bill look between the two of you, at the something that’s there now that wasnt there before.
almost in unison, their eyes widen.
bill shakes his head, ascending the ladder again, dragging stan with him, “nope, nope, no.”
stan calls out as the trapdoor shuts, “thank christ you two finally realised you’ve been dating for the past four years!”
richie chuckles at the rising blush on your cheeks. so adorable.
“wanna head to the Aladdin? theres a screening of Fast Times on in an hour.”
you smile, worn-out, a sore feeling settling between your thighs, “I think you might have to carry me there.”
“gladly,” he says, holding his hand out to you. you take it, “cant have my girl falling can I?”
6 years ago I was given the drawing on the left back to me during my senior week at RMHS. I drew that little painting almost two decades ago!! Never give up your passion. I love to draw. It has made me who I am. Drawing means so much to me and I will continue with it.