#thank u ily

[ghost-proofbaby]

the tik tok trend of flashing your boyfriend unexpectedly would have both eddie and steve like 😵‍💫🤤😵‍💫

oh my god.

but hear me out. yes, both boys would absolutely drool, but they’d also react just a little bit differently.

(i got carried away beneath the cut my fucking bad minors dni)

with steve, i can see you doing it during a fight. he’s saying something like “it was your turn to do the dishes, baby-“ and then you’re suddenly yanking up your t-shirt that had once been his and he’s just blanking. rapidly blinking, mouth agape and brows slack before furrowing them up. “what’s the matter?” you’d tease him.

and he just starts huffing in frustration because “no. no way. nope. not fair. you still have to do the dishes.”

and so you’d jump a little, smirking at the way his eyes are widening before he just starts pacing and you’re being even more of a fucking tease.

“are we sure about that? can’t we renegotiate terms, baby?”

“renegotiate? reneg- fuck off. fuck right off. i-“ and he’s tugging at his hair, torn between continuing the small argument that he can hardly recall the premise for now as you continue to grip on the hem of your shirt and smirk so proudly at him. “fine. you wanna renegotiate, honey? let’s renegotiate.”

you think you’ve won until he’s suddenly grabbing you up and taking you to the bedroom, treating you like the brat that you are. and by the end of the night, he’s just smirking at you and your chest littered in flowering bruises as he says, “guess you’ll have to clean the sheets instead now, baby.”

but then…. but then with eddie. oh dear god.

it’s not over a fight. no. it’s not a distraction — it’s your attempt to gain his attention. he’s been paying attention to planning a campaign or his guitar or just anything but you the entire day. and by the end of it you’re just so damn needy. it was either this or full on climbing into his lap, and flashing him was just the easier of the two options.

“hey, eds?” would be your innocent start to it, but honestly? he’s not even listening. he doesn’t even hear you as he’s focusing on his damn notebook.

he doesn’t even notice when you raise your shirt, or when you huff with annoyance as he continues to be so fucking oblivious.

“eddie.”

no response.

“edward.”

still no response.

“edward munson-“

when he finally hears his full government name you have half his attention, but not enough of it. he wouldn’t even glance up from his notebook as he says, “just a minute, sweetheart. i just figured out this new NPC and really need to-“

“how the hell do i have my tits out and you’re still talking about that fucking game?”

that would get his attention for a few reasons — the promise of tits and your tone of voice for starters — but even more so, the fact that you rarely lose patience or understanding when it comes to his hobbies. he’d be looking up in an instant, you could probably have heard a crack from across the room at how intensely he’s suddenly snapping that damn head up just to catch you dropping the shirt back down.

“wait, no, wait- what? where’d the boobs go?”

“sorry, only boyfriends who pay attention to their lovers get boobs.”

he’s never tossed that fucking notebook to the side so quickly as he spins around his chair, full focus on you entirely now, “who said i wasn’t paying attention? i’m paying attention, sweetheart. i’m paying so much attention.”

he’d prove just how much attention he’s paying to you when his head is buried between your thighs, only pausing on rare occasions to breathe and sometimes spout out new ideas for that stupid campaign, which only makes you tug harder on his damn curls and cut him off with his own moans before he returns to giving you his full attention.

#thank u ily #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #ghost is drunk and on some nonsense #none of this will probably be coherent when i wake up tomorrow oh well

[certifiedtrashmouth]

Number 57! (PS: rolled my dnd dice for this, and this is what the universe selected.)

TRACK 57 - would’ve, could’ve, should’ve by taylor swift (eddie munson x reader)

a/n: my jaw DROPPED when i saw what this number was. curse you and your dice (not really ily thank you for sending this in). and as expected, this one is going to come with some warnings. buckle in.

warnings: angst, smut (oral mainly), mentions of drugs, what i consider to be ooc eddie (he’s a bit mean in this one), attempted coercion into sexual acts if you squint???

“but lord, you made me feel important. and then you tried to erase us.” 

You should have seen it coming. 

You knew about the rumors surrounding him, you knew what people whispered about him. And even if all the rumors weren’t true, you knew that within each little white lie, there had to be a root of truth. 

It didn’t stop you. 

Maybe after the first meeting, you should’ve given him up. A clandestine meeting under false pretenses, you’d managed to convince him to meet you in the woods to sell to you. But it wasn’t the weed that you wanted - it was him.

Him, who you had seen in passing in the hallways for years. Him, who wore a leather jacket even on the most sweltering of summer days and rolled into school each day with loud music blasting loudly, not an ounce of consideration for his peers. Him, who had a reputation and wore it like a badge of honor.

Him, who was destined to ruin you the moment you locked eyes with him, fate cruelly deciding that he was the one. 

He’d known the second he’d seen you at that picnic table that it was never about the drugs. But he’d played along, letting you embarrass yourself terribly as you asked questions and offered over a twenty dollar bill for the baggie he dangled in front of you.

“Sweetheart,” he’d cooed over to you, his fingers brushing yours as his hands hovered over the cash, “You’re not really here for the drugs, are you?” 

A chain of reactions. You’d gone from trembling out of nerves to trembling from ecstasy. He’d taken you right there, on top of the wooden table, without hesitation. He didn’t care if anyone walked up on the two of you as he’d buried his head between your thighs, only spurred on with each call of his name that fell from your lips. And when it was all said and done, he’d pocketed his drugs and handed back your money, a smug smirk as he winked. 

“We should do this again sometime.” 

And you did. Over, and over, and over. At first, it began with regular meetings at that same spot in the woods. A spot forever stained for you, marked in infamy as the place you handed yourself over to Eddie Munson without so much as blinking. But it had snow-balled into something more, something bigger. Hidden meetings in the woods turned to late night drives in his van, ending parked on the side of the road as he’d coerce you into the back. 

“God, you look so pretty like this,” he groans, hand tightly winding your hair into a ponytail as he continues to jerk his hips into your slack jaw, tears streaming down your face, “So eager. All mine.” 

He was right, God, he was right. You’d never needed to please a man as much as you had when it came to him. It didn’t phase you as you choked when he hit the back of your throat, only urging you on to take more of him until you couldn’t breathe. Your nose brushed against his coarse pubes as your throat constricted once more, and he threw his head back in a low groan. 

“Fuck yes. Just like that, sweetheart. You can take more, I know you can take more.” 

When he’d finally finished, his hand pressing you down on him and holding you there until you swallowed all that he had given you, you let him fall from your mouth. There’s a string of spit that trails from his dick to your chin, but you don’t have it in you to be disgusted. All you can do is look up at him hopelessly, starry eyed at the man as you sit back on your heels. 

“Was that good?” you murmur, insecurity getting the best of you. 

He’s red in the face, spread out in exhaustion, as he spares you a shocked glance. “Good? Was that good? That was incredible, baby. C’mere.” 

This was what got you. It wasn’t the sex, or the orgasms, or the pet names, or the thrill of the secrecy. It wasn’t the bruises in the shape of his hands he left on your hips or those love marks left on your neck that you always struggled to hide. It was the aftermath - the way he always held you after like you meant something to him. He’d coddle you into his chest, he’d trace whispers of touches over your bare shoulders. Each and every time, without fail, he made you feel important. And maybe that’s why when the whispers of others first started, it didn’t phase you. 

You caught the odd glances, the double-takes from fellow students. A plethora of whispers questioning why someone like you would be messing around with someone like him. 

You didn’t have an answer for them. You wished you’d had the answer for yourself. 

Soon enough, your friends had even turned up their nose at you. They’d caught your flirtatious looks exchanged with Eddie during lunch, and that had been the last straw. But none of it mattered, because that afternoon, the two of you met up and went through with your usual routine; it was okay, because when his body was flush with yours, making it so you were unable to remember even your own name, you didn’t have a moment to spare them a single thought.

It was perfect. It was exhilarating, exciting, and addicting. It was flawless, until it wasn’t.

Maybe you were the one to blame. It was because of you, after all, that the end fell upon the two of you. After months of bliss, you realized you wanted more. You didn’t want to have to leave his trailer in the early hours of the morning once he’d gotten what he wanted from you. You wanted to stay, even if only for an hour more, and talk. The first time you’d brought it up, he laughed in your face. 

“C’mon, sweetheart. We both know what we were here for, and we both got it. Why ruin it with sentimentals?” 

You’d nodded at his words that night, but they still stung. Clearly, you both didn’t know you were here for, and he had no clue that you had not got it. 

You wanted connection. You wanted more. 

The craving for his soft touches and moments of vulnerability almost became too much to bear. It was all you could think of, consuming your mind in the most inconvenient of times. Any time an opportunity to spend time with him presented itself, you’d jump at it. 

It’s how you ended up at his trailer, under the guise that the two of you were watching a movie together. It was obvious that there would be more than that based on the way he’d suggested it, but you fooled yourself into believing that maybe he’d wanted the same. Maybe, he’d be content just spending time with you. 

He’d hardly waited for beginning credits to start to roll before he was on you, placing wet kisses along your neck. 

“Eddie, stop,” you sigh, trying to shrug him off unsuccessfully. All he’d done was smirk before chuckling into your neck, a hand coming down onto your thigh before trailing upwards, “I’m serious, I want to watch the movie.” 

You didn’t. That was a goddamn lie. All you wanted was his attention on you, for him to continue on. Your body was aflame with want, and you both knew it. 

But you also wanted to prove something to both of you. You needed to prove you could spend time together without the sex. That your inner turmoil of emotions wasn't for nothing. 

“Oh, come on now, babe,” his hand was slow deliberate, cupping your sex slowly, making you resist the urge to whine and buck into his touch, “I can feel how much you want me, and we haven’t even begun.” 

You grind your teeth, throwing your head back in frustration. He takes it as a green light to continue, fingers playing with the waistband of the shorts you’d worn. He’d just started to suck on your sweet spot, a point of contact he’d become far too familiar with, when your dam broke.

You couldn’t do this. You needed more. 

“I’m serious. Stop,” your plea comes out as a whisper that he doesn’t initially hear over the movie, so you clear your throat and try again. This time, your voice comes out more powerful, more sure, “No.”

Eddie was off of you within milliseconds. He may be a monster, but he was not that kind of monster.

No means no. 

The space between you was almost as suffocating as the previous proximity as he looks at you, shocked and completely still. 

All you can do is stare back, heart pounding, hands shaking. 

“What’s wrong?” he immediately asks, and the concern is almost endearing. Almost. 

You know he doesn’t mean it in the way you want him to. 

“Do you like me?” you ask suddenly, internally cursing yourself as you already felt tears burning at your corneas. 

He laughs as if you’d told a bad joke, clearly not picking up on how serious you were, “Do I like you? Of course I like you, or else I wouldn’t keep dreaming of that pretty little pus-”

“No, Eddie. I mean do you like me? Do you like me for more than the sex?” your voice breaks. You sound so pathetic, it angers you. 

You feel impossibly small as he continues to stare at you, the realization washing over his features slowly. He goes from looking worried, to looking humored, to suddenly looking emotionless. You almost wish you hadn’t stopped him. You almost wish you had let the night continue on as it was, that you had succumbed to the normal routine. You’d convinced yourself that you needed to know the truth, if you really did mean anything to him, but now you’re sure anything would be better than the cool composure he’s holding himself up with. 

“Sweetheart.”

The simple nickname that usually had you as putty in his hands, is suddenly breaking you. He doesn’t have to answer - his tone tells you all you need to know. 

Not only does Eddie Munson not want you the way you want him, but he never could. He never did, he never could, and he never will. 

“I thought we were just having fun,” he presses on, scooting closer finally, “You know, just messing around.” 

Just messing around. Just having fun. 

You guys had been, but this? This no longer felt like fun. Not when your heart has suddenly become collateral damage. 

“We were, but I want more,” you have to blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay, and each word burns your throat. 

The look he gives you burns more. “More? Like what? Fucking- Like fucking flowers and chocolates? Because spoiler alert, sweetheart, I don’t do those things.” 

There’s a crack in your armor, and it shatters like spider webs across your face. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper, looking at him as your chest heaves, at a loss for words, “I guess? I just want more. I don’t want you to throw me aside like I’m nothing everytime. I want this to mean something.”

I want this to mean as much to you as it means to me. 

You can’t say it, because you know it’ll only be another nail in the coffin. 

“Mean something? Christ,” his laugh is humorless as he drags his hands over his face, “Listen, we need to get one thing clear. This was only ever a means to an end. That’s all that this was.” 

You can’t help the flicker of anger that ignites in your chest. All you can think of is the countless times he has held you, the countless times he has let affection slip between the cracks of whatever this has been. 

“I gave up everything for you,” you start, working hard to not choke on your words, “I gave up my friends for you.” 

“I didn’t ask you to,” he spits back, venomous. 

“I’ve been painted as a freak, a slut, all because I wanted you,” you spit right back, matching his vehemence.

He shrugs, letting the words roll off of him as if they mean nothing. As if you mean nothing, “Collateral damage.” 

Collateral damage. No, the collateral damage was the sound of your heart breaking in your chest at this moment, making it impossible to breathe. 

“Is that the only reason you ever asked to meet me that first time?” he continues on, eyes narrowing, “Because you wanted something more from me?” 

“It’s not like I’m the only one who had ulterior motives,” you scoff, remembering the way he’d made the first move. 

Him, not you. The first one to want more. Just not the last. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I think I was very clear in my motives from the start. But just in case I wasn’t, let it be known now,” he pauses, leaning in and looking you dead in your eyes. You almost look away, a tear finally breaking from your waterline, anticipating his next words, “All I ever wanted was a good fuck.” 

That’s all you were to him. You weren’t anything more, or anything less. Those moments of vulnerability you had been so lucky to experience were nothing more than an act, a baiting to keep you coming back. 

“Fuck you,” is all you can whimper, despite wishing for it to reflect the anger you felt. All the hurt you felt. 

You had been an idiot. A reckless, careless idiot. 

“You already have, remember?” he sneers, and it’s your final straw. 

You stand up abruptly, not looking at him as you grab your bag and shoes. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t try to stop you, but you don’t expect him to. You only finally look at him when your hand is on the front door, turning to face him one last time. 

“I regret this,” you say, voice finally coming out clearly despite the tears now streaking your face, “I regret ever asking you to meet me in the woods that day.” 

You know it doesn’t phase him. He doesn’t so much as flinch, but you needed to say it aloud. For yourself. 

“Wish I could say the same,” he replies as he doesn’t move from his spot on the couch, comfortably lounging. 

His world isn’t crumbling. Whatever is happening right now won’t affect him once you walk out his door. This never meant anything to him, and it never would. He won’t have to live with the regret, he won’t spend sleepless nights missing you, and he surely won’t be sparing you a glance in the hallways come Monday. Whereas your hands are now forever stained, his are already washed clean. 

You let the door slam behind you, wishing that you’d played it safe. You’d meant it when you told him that you regret ever meeting with him in the woods that day. You regret every meeting that followed, every time you’d let him worship your body and returned the favor. You regret the change that had occurred somewhere deep inside of you through it all. You regret ever wanting more. But that’s all you can do; you can’t undo what is already done. All you would ever have is your regrets, a million ‘would’ve, could’ve, should’ve’s. 

And you were going to regret Eddie Munson for the rest of your days.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #asks #thank u ily #spotify wrapped writing #this one was.... damn #eddie munson #eddie munson smut

[caffeinatedrogue]

netrunny

#cyberpunk2077 #cyberpunk #cyberpunk 2077 #netrunner #idk #art tag #yes pls click on it and enlarge #thank u Ily #I HATE PAINTING CITIES PART 10000 #but I am a stubborn bitch that knows no peace

[o-rusted-heart]

Y'all are too good to me.

#posts 1 meme gets material for a year #honestly you all give me so much joy. #thank u ily #ooc . #i'm kind of a baked potato rn so i may pick at them.... slowlie

[dogsstew]

HEY WHY DIDNT THIS POST!!!! ! Commission for @1996fanatic !!! I just think these two are neat and I love them dearly.

🛸👽👾🎣

#commission #THEY !!!! #THANK U ILY

[princessbrunette]

every time princess writes a lil piss blurb the world heals

healing the world one piss at a time 🩷

#anon #thank u ily #chatting ૮₍ • ˕ - ₎ა♡₊˚

[wittyworm]

just wanted to say you are THAT GUY! <3

omg.....

#thank u ily

[melandrops]

wait did u write until death do us part? And u ship Doorkeay? Just wonderinggggg :)

*vibrating at a speed that only dogs can hear* i am normal about doorkeay.

(also yes i did write until death do us part)

#i'm in the middle of writing a big doorkeay fic #im so excited to share it with the tma fandom soon #its my magnum opus #asks #thank u ily

[ceilidho]

hello ! new to this scene and i'm not sure of the etiquette on this side of Tumblr, but i was wondering if you allowed fanworks of your writing ? like fanart and our own writings based off of your work ?

thanks for your time~~

i don't mind at all!!! i really enjoy it even!!! :)

#thank u ily

[housewifebuck]

sittin in a box he was way too big for <3

LOVE WHEN THEY DO THAT !!!!

#thank u ily #pet asks #asks #office hours

[emmbrr]

huge thanks for 5k here on tumblr! no point in returning to twitter now huh

#5k #thank u ily #;.;

[ghost-proofbaby]

— WE DESERVE A SOFT EPILOGUE, MY LOVE.

hello! and welcome to my blog! you can call me ghost, i'm 24 years old, and i like to write (allegedly). my pronouns are she/her. my blog is mostly 18+, so minors dni. ageless/blank blogs will be blocked. my requests are currently open.

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[certifiedtrashmouth]

#27 for your Spotify list 🤠

TRACK 27 - ode to a conversation stuck in your throat by del water gap (eddie munson x fem!reader, steve harrington x fem!reader mention)

a/n: alright. let’s spice this up. please be kind i don’t write smut often unless i feel so inclined lol 

warnings: angst, cheating, oral (f receiving), smut (p in v, implied unprotected as there’s no mention of protection). Aka… mdni. :)

“and it may not mean much to you - but your plates are in his sink, your sweater’s on his bed. won’t you text me when you’re home? my baby, spare me all the rest.”

You’re not his to keep. He knows this, you know this - it doesn’t stop whatever’s happening between the two of you. 

Eddie Munson had been your best friend since freshman year. The two of you were always a package deal; when you joined the theater club, Eddie joined the theater club. When Eddie started Hellfire Club, you were his co-founding member. When you volunteered to help decorate for the Spring Fling dance in ‘84, Eddie was begrudgingly by your side. When Eddie was invited to deal at parties, you were there in the shadows keeping him company. 

Wherever one went, the other followed.

All of the relationships you had gone through had simply had to deal with it. It was a deal-breaker. Either they accepted that Eddie was a permanent fixture in your life, or they could get lost. And it was always fine, because he was the harmless best friend. Sure, he was a bit flirtier than necessary. And sure, his touches lingered longer than necessary. But he was your best friend - nothing more, nothing less, and surely nothing to worry about. 

Steve Harrington had been surprisingly accepting of this. That had been his first mistake.

His second was not paying closer attention.

Because maybe, if he had a more watchful eye on you, if he had seen the signs, you wouldn’t be in bed with your best friend right now. 

“Fuck,” you sigh as Eddie places open-mouthed kisses down your neck and over your collarbones, “Please.” 

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmurs as his mouth begins to travel carefully over your breasts. He’s taking his time, stopping and sucking harsh marks sporadically. You have no clue how you’ll explain the blooming bruises to Steve - that is, of course, if he even notices them before they begin to fade. 

You’re only here because lately, Steve hadn’t been paying attention to you. He’d gotten too busy, he’d grown too comfortable. You had been slipping right through his fingers for quite some time now, and he hadn’t even noticed. 

When Eddie bites down on one of your nipples, you gasp, your hands reaching up and threading through the curls at the base of his neck. He’s quick to lathe his tongue over it, soothing the sting he’d created and earning a pitiful whine from you. Your back is arching, aching for more. 

His hands are quick to find your hips, harshly pinning your body down into his mattress to prevent any more wiggling as he continues his way down your body. He has it memorized at this point - every curve, every dip, every scar. He’d had the last four months to grow intimate with the crevices. 

You’ve only been dating Steve for a year. For a third of the relationship, you’ve come to Eddie for solace. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he praises as his lips graze over your navel, “So beautiful. And all mine. Isn’t that right, baby?” 

You can barely muster out a response of, “All yours.” 

For a brief moment in time, it’s true. When you’re here, underneath him and in his sheets, you are Eddie’s. He doesn’t have to beg and barter for pieces of you shared with Steve. Every time you show up at his trailer late at night, that look in your eyes, he knows that you’re going to belong to him and only him for the next several hours. It doesn’t matter that you’ll be going back home to Steve at the end of it. The two of you don’t think that far ahead in times like these.

He finally stops teasing you as he settles between your thighs, sitting a knee comfortably over each of his shoulders. Some nights, he would take his time with it. He’d nip and whisper kisses along your inner thighs until you were a wrecked mess, begging and pleading with him to end his torture of teasing. He’d take his time stripping you of your panties, puckering his lips and blowing cool air over your center until you were spasming beneath his fingertips. 

Tonight is not one of those nights. 

He dives right in, quick to latch his lips around your clit once he’s pushed your panties to the side. You weren’t expecting the sudden sensation, hips bucking without your consent as a moan leaves your lips. The sound is so pretty, it drives him insane. It urges him on. 

His mouth becomes a mess as he laps at you, spit and your wetness drips down his chin as he keeps an arm draped over your hips to keep you as still as possible. But you still writhe beneath him with every flick of his tongue. You’re still coming completely apart beneath him, and you both know it’s only because of him. Not Steve. But Eddie. 

“Just like that,” you whine, hands fisting his sheets so tightly that your knuckles have gone ghostly white, “Fuck, right there.” 

When you reach up to throw an arm across your mouth, trying to muffle some of the curses and gasps spilling from your throat, he pauses. 

“Nuh uh,” he insists, bringing his free hand up to tug your arm down, “Let me hear those pretty sounds, baby. I want to hear you.” 

With those big brown eyes looking up at you, it’s impossible to not listen. Your hand finds home in his curls again and the filth spills out into the otherwise silent air of his room. 

“Oh my God, Eddie. Fuck. F-Fuck, please. So good, so good.” 

He brings a finger to your entrance, circling it around to get it wet before he presses it in. You’re hardly awarded a moment to adjust before he’s adding a second, curling them until the pads of his fingers have found the spot that makes your toes curl. It’s a place within you he’s familiar with - he’s unraveled you countless times in his bed, fingers curled into that very spot, whispering every dirty thought that came to mind into your ears night after night. 

“I’m close,” you warn when you feel the knot building in your lower stomach, thighs instinctively squeezing around his head. If you weren’t so out of your mind, you’d be worried about suffocating him, but neither of you particularly care at this moment. To die here, between your legs with his fingers buried in your cunt, would be a heavenly way to die in Eddie Munson’s humble opinion.

But the moment he feels your walls beginning to flutter around his fingers, he’s quick to pull away, making you gasp before sighing out in frustration. 

“What the hell, Eddie?” you begin to lift yourself up onto your elbows to look down at the frazzled boy going down on you, but he’s already lifting himself up along your body as he sucks his fingers clean, grin wild before he’s hovering over you. 

“Aw, sweetheart, you didn’t think I was going to let you cum without me inside you, did you?” he teases gently. 

You don’t reply, instead wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist as you pull his swollen lips to yours. Somewhere between the rough and desperate kisses, you find yourselves kicking your underwear off. Your panties are wrangled down to your ankles before being kicked somewhere off onto his floor, and his boxers are quick to follow. The moment the last few articles of clothing have been discarded, you’re lifting your hips against his in anticipation. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans as his cock begins to slide between your folds, “Who’s got you all hot and bothered like this, huh?” 

“You,” you whimper, “It’s you.”

“Me? You sure? Not Steve, your loving boyfriend, but me, sweetheart?” 

When you don’t respond, he reaches down between the two of you, pumping himself a few times before he guides himself properly through your slick. His head bumps your clit, and you let out another whine.

“Tell me that nobody else touches you like I do.” 

“Nobody,” your hips thrust up again, growing further impatient and trying to end the suspense, “Nobody else. Only you. Only ever you, Eddie.” 

He finally gives in, letting his hips roll forward slowly as you stretch around him. It takes you a moment to adjust to his girth, but the few seconds are immediate heaven for both of you. His eyes roll back just as he catches the whites of your own eyes. 

He knows it’s just words. Empty promises.

But as he thrusts into you, hips snapping to meet yours repeatedly, leaving you a blubbering mess, it’s an unspoken agreement that playing pretend works for now. Each time he pulls backwards, nearly completely falling out of you, only to surge back forward and bottom out once more, neither of you care about the little white lies. 

He knows that when it ends, you’ll go home to Steve, and he’ll resume the role of the harmless best friend. He knows that Steve will continue to live in the bubble that he’s the only one that has laid hands on his girlfriend, that has seen you like this. He knows the fantasy will resume as if you’d only ever called out Steve’s name as hot pleasure rolls through you, making you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, as if you’d never chanted Eddie’s name like a prayer. 

But for right now, it’s only him. It’s only Eddie who touches you like this, and it’s only Eddie who can completely unravel you, reducing you to a teary-eyed mess of mascara and smeared lipstick. 

Only Eddie who touches you like this.

Maybe one day Steve will keep a closer eye on his girlfriend, but Eddie is thankful that today’s not that day.

#asks #thank u ily #spotify wrapped writing #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut

[franthonyofficial]

franthony friday tuesday? has this ever been talked about

YES BUT I LOVE IT SO MUCH

#thank u ily

[noctude]

i would like a small little guy, mister noctude. laurve you <3

#thank u ily #doodles

[cherubgore]

just read your RJ fic in ao3 and am too lazy to log in right now but

*incoherent screeching (positive)*

and yes, he really needs more love. rj fans be fighting for their lives trying to find fics /h

AHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH! I'm so glad you liked it!! xoxox ur so correct tbh he needs MORE love

#ajarofpickledtears #thank u ily