#(but it does look pretty badass)

[caluupin]

Father!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥

[northlight14]

The way I just know Spinner and Shigaraki would be the biggest simps for each other even ages into their relationship

[blackhillverse]

every six months i remember i have a blackhill tattoo and my mind just explodes, i love these two so much it’s actually insane!

[steakout-05]

oh don't mind me i'm just-- *accidentally trips falls over and drops all my paper on the floor which causes a drastic stylistic change in the way i draw barry*

he has cooler hair and a proper jawline now!!! i also gave him eyelashes based off some old concept art of him from 'The Art of Halfbrick' and also because they make him look more babygirl :)

his eyelashes were pretty and i wish he kept em so i incorporated them into the new way i draw Barry :)

also bonus pog

i find it weird yet oddly funny that Barry always gets this permanent pog face whenever he makes That Expression. you know the one

the pog. that one.

[irondad-defensesquad]

might be remembering it wrong but i'm pretty sure we (me, my brother, and my mom) only watched iron man 1 in the theaters bc they played black sabbath in the trailer

[frankmillerturnonyourlocation]

funny.

[tenebrius-excellium]

@tenyai might I humbly request more of that one headcanon of yours where Zoe gets kidnapped and meets Douxie in the Realm of Inbetweens? Thinking of it because it’s Zouxie week AND THAT STORY WAS SO AWESOME

[silverselfshippingchaos]

his birthday means that we are g.ladio posting like hell today

[albatris]

I have an ask!!!!!!! about alex that's been sitting there a while!!! and I'm so in the mood to yell about alex rn!!! soon soon soon. wanna talk about it. the blorbo. rotating it in my brain. I Am Going To Fall Asleep On My Laptop Keyboard Though

[thcsedorks]

eugene tag dump

🧠 / eugene / ic // after i save the world i still have to live with myself 🧠 / eugene / musings // looking at the fossil record you cannot say for certain it isn't what killed the dinosaurs 🧠 / eugene / likes / aesthetic // a fully amped up state and an ignorance of rapid firing weapons 🧠 / eugene / about // no one gets to clock out today ; and hell this is a story people are gonna tell 🧠 / eugene / music // and knowing that has kept me vertical when so many have gone horizontal 🧠 / eugene / visage // the hair doesn't make the man ; the man makes the man 🧠 / eugene / starter call // all things being equal it does sound pretty badass

[guinevre]

wheezing at how everyone saw a pair of cunty boots and got ready for a sexy romanceable villain, when it's probably gonna be some unsexy npc-face vampire hunter with extremist views (a la the order members in bb)

[tuherrus]

[ID: A digitally drawn comic of Toph and Zuko from Avatar: The Last Airbender talking about Zuko's scar.

It begins with Toph approaching Zuko, who is sitting near a campfire. "You have a scar?" she asks. Zuko replies,  "Oh! Uh, yeah... You didn't...?" Toph cuts him off and says, "Came up in passing with the other guys." Toph casually makes herself a seat out of rock and sits down next to him. "Must be pretty badass if everyone assumes I know it's there, too," she continues. Zuko looks aside awkwardly and says, "... It's on my face." "Ah." Toph replies.

Zuko says, "Maybe you could... feel it?" "Huh?" says Toph. "I guess, if I concentrate hard enough." Zuko reaches for Toph's hand. "Uhm, just with your hand, if you want," he says. "I don't think I can describe it." "... Gotcha. Guide my hand then, boss," Toph says. Zuko does so, and there's a pause as Toph touches his scar. The fire reflects in her eyes.

As Toph pulls her hand away, Zuko says, ".... You know, my left eye is almost blind, too." "Seriously?!" Toph exclaims. "Why aren't we a tag team yet?! The blind bandit and the half-blind dweeb!" "Come on...!" Zuko moans. End ID]

id by @strawberrygiorno , thank you!

i’ve had this comic sketched out for months but only decided to finish it now, it’s based on something i drew a couple years back of toph and zuko....don’t think too hard on when or how this takes place because i don’t really know either! it’s just a concept i’ve always wanted to draw

[falling-star-cygnus]

i couldn’t resist the pull of a new indie animated cartoon, life is hard and i am but a weak soul

✨Ramshackle✨ by Zeddyzi -> why it’s amazing and why you should watch it :D

she’s a mood fr

No.1: Vinnie is usually the first to panic

while none of trio are 'in charge' -nor should they be- Vinnie does take the lead more often than Skipp or Stone do {these two also tend to look at her before taking action, which is actually adorable} so it's pretty cool to see she's not oblivious to dangerous situations like her archetype tends to lean into -> also Stone's totally contemplating breaking the window to get away from the pageant zombies

No.2: Stone is super protective, despite acting like he's not

but he does it in a way that doesn’t come across as thinking the other two are incapable, it’s more like: you totally could’ve dealt with that, but im right here so you don’t have to

No.3: Skipp isn’t helpless, nor is he treated as such

this is really awesome bc trios typically have that one character that’s really bright and bubbly but that’s also often infantilised by both their peers and the fandom -> Vinnie and Stone are totally confident in his feral capabilities though, and apart from briefly scolding him when it was necessary- they don’t treat Skipp like a child {which is an extremely refreshing change of pace}

No.4: ✨FOUND FAMILY✨

you got the black cat, doberman, and orange cat all in one with these silly guys! + stone's small smile when they fist bump, my heart!

No.5: The black cat is a softie

surprising absolutely no one, Stone has a hard time saying no to his family. that's not to say he can't express a boundary, like how he feels about physical touch, but he does let Vinnie and Skipp cling to him for brief intervals -> he also is already accepting that Maggot's going to be a fixture from as soon as the other two are leaving the alley way

all in all, this pilot does a mind-blowing job of portraying archetypes in a new and refreshing way that doesn't feel forced -> the animation style is beautiful, the characters are multifaceted and complex and it walks the line between silly and badass perfectly

definitely go watch the pilot on youtube!

and if you enjoyed this, let me know if there are other things you want me to analyze or give my thoughts on :D

[loveinhawkins]

It’s Dustin who saves Eddie.

He doesn’t try and carry him back to the trailer, nothing like that—if he could manage that on determination alone, then he would, but his throbbing leg has other ideas.

So he stays by Eddie’s side. Throws off his hoodie and starts to rip any piece of his clothing that he can, because he’s come a long way from when he once stuck bandaids on Steve’s beaten up face.

“What… what are you doing?” Eddie says in between gasping breaths.

Dustin would laugh if he wasn’t so scared. “Buying more time,” he echoes. Then he looks Eddie right in the eye and adds, voice wavering, “I’m really fucking sorry in advance.”

He takes a deep breath and presses the material to Eddie’s chest with force.

Eddie screams.

Dustin grits his teeth. Keeps going.

He creates makeshift tourniquets for Eddie’s arms, keeps tearing at his shirt, then takes it off entirely to use as a larger bandage, ignoring the shock of cold against his skin; the only thought in his head is that he has to stop the bleeding.

Eddie’s hand finds his bare shoulder. Squeezes weakly. “Tha’s enough,” he slurs. “D-Dustin, stop.”

And Dustin only does what he says because it doesn’t look like any more blood is soaking through the material. He keeps pressure on the worst of the wounds, tries to keep his elbows locked, as if that will stop his relentless shivering.

And when he looks up, he sees a tear fall from Eddie’s eye, down his temple, into his hair—and Dustin somehow knows that it’s not from pain alone, that Eddie’s crying just because he can see how cold he is.

“M’sorry,” Eddie whispers. “Never meant for… for you to—”

“Shut up,” Dustin says, then hastily amends, “Actually, don’t shut up, just—just stay awake. They’ll be back soon, okay, Steve and Robin and Nancy, and they’ll—”

“Steve,” Eddie agrees. His voice goes up and down, like a little song: “Steve, Steve, Steve.”

“Yeah, he’ll—hey, Eddie, eyes open.”

“Mm-hmm,” Eddie says faintly. “Eyes… oh, forgot to… you were right, H-Henderson, he’s… a badass. S’got pretty eyes, too, like wow. Pretty, pretty…”

And…

Well. That’s a development.

“You can tell me all about Steve’s pretty eyes if you keep yours open.”

And Eddie’s eyes do jolt open at that, like he’s received an electric shock. He groans in mortification.

“Jesus Christ. Didn’t mean to—fuck, feel like I’m drunk, man, I can’t… just kill me.”

Dustin thinks he probably would have found that request funny if Eddie wasn’t saying it through teeth flecked with blood.

Still, he does let out a strangled, hysterical giggle when he says, “I know how to keep you awake now.”

Eddie groans again. “Spare me the—”

“He sings in the shower, like, full blown Elvis impression, all that jazz. And he denies having lucky socks, but he wears the same pair whenever Lucas has a basketball game.”

“Huh?” Eddie says eloquently.

“Pay attention, dude, you need to know what you’re getting into! Oh, he said when he went to see The Fox and the Hound, he cried.”

Eddie chuckles. “That’s… oh, that’s sweet.” He smiles, eyes bright, and Dustin suddenly knows that they’re gonna be okay. “Keep going?”

Dustin does. He talks about how Steve always says, “Two for joy,” even when he sees a singular magpie, because he reasons that the second one is always just hiding. How he eats ice-cream too fast, does a comical hop in place when he inevitably gets brain freeze. That whenever he happens to pick up Dustin from school, he almost always has a Simon and Garfunkel tape playing, sings along to At the Zoo as he turns out of the parking lot.

Dustin doesn’t mention the Farrah Fawcett spray; a promise is a promise.

Eddie seems pretty damn well entertained with what he’s been given, anyway. He keeps smiling, lets out breathy chuckles that give Dustin hope: that he still has enough energy to laugh.

“Okay, okay, I’m awake,” he says, “I’m so awake, jus’… you just relax.”

And it’s only when Dustin stops talking that he realises his teeth have been chattering the whole time.

Eddie gives an unhappy sounding hum, and his hand comes up to clumsily rub at Dustin’s forearm.

“Your lips are blue.”

“I’m f-fine.”

A sudden desperate yell splits through the air; Dustin didn’t know that Steve could sound quite like that.

“Here!” Dustin shouts as much as he can.

He hears three people running; Steve gets there first.

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Steve,” he says, and Dustin’s seen enough movies to think that this could be it, the big moment, or at the very least that Eddie’s about to give another wandering speech on Steve’s eyes.

But instead—

“Steve, Steve,” Eddie repeats, “Dustin’s cold.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve says; he’s already taking off his jacket, shoving Dustin into it with this frantic mixture of urgency and care.

Dustin’s shivers get even more pronounced as the jacket’s zipped up, as the warmth from Steve’s body heat hits him.

“Think E-Eddie’s—b-bleeding stopped,” he says, accidentally biting on his tongue thanks to his chattering teeth.

Steve looks over Dustin’s handiwork, eyes shining. “Yeah, you did good,” he says, choked, rubs his hands down Dustin’s forearms more effectually than Eddie had. “You did so good.”

“You must’ve been wearing your socks tonight, Harrington,” Eddie says.

Steve stares at him. It’s only when he starts to laugh that Dustin realises he’s crying at the same time. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Shh, s’okay,” Eddie says. “I cried at th’movie, too, don’ tell anyone. S’not fair what… s’posed to be a happy endin’…”

Steve catches Dustin’s eye, says, deadpan, even with a tear-streaked face, “Doc, I think we’re losing him.”

Dustin whacks him on the arm, because it’s so stupid, it’s so Steve, and, God, they're really gonna be okay.

“Dustin’s th’best doctor,” Eddie chants, “best, best, best…”

“Yeah, he’s a goddamn superhero,” Steve says sincerely.

There’s a look Steve has on his face while he lifts Eddie up, a fleeting softness right before he goes back into planning mode, scanning the trailer park in case of any more threats; where Eddie’s fingers curl around Steve’s neck, and Steve smiles down at him, and…

Dustin would put a bet on Steve thinking Eddie has pretty eyes, too.

At least, he would if he could stand up.

When Steve clocks his leg, his jaw works a couple of times before he speaks. “Hey, Robin, Nance?” He raises his voice, looking to some point in the distance. “Could you—help Dustin up, I’ve—uh, kinda got my hands full.”

His tone is light, but his chin trembles just a bit, like he might break down at the thought that he can’t carry Dustin out of here, too.

“Okay, c’mon superhero,” Robin says, suddenly by Dustin’s side; she counts down, and then Dustin’s being carefully lifted up, an arm flung around Nancy, too.

“I’m okay,” Dustin feels the need to say. Robin and Nancy are out of breath, and he can’t help noticing the vivid red marks around their necks.

“Yeah, you will be,” Robin corrects.

“Is—is Eddie—?”

“Look, he’s right in front,” Nancy says. “Steve’s got him.” She lowers her voice and when she says, “You were really brave, you know,” Dustin has to swallow a lump in his throat: for a moment feels thirteen years old, her hand in his at the Snow Ball.

And she’s right; Eddie is right in front. Dustin can see him trailing a hand up and down Steve’s arm, slow and soothing, and he’s talking, just too far away to be heard.

For a few steps, Dustin thinks that Eddie must be spilling more of what he’s learned, regurgitating the anecdotes.

But then Robin and Nancy pull him a little closer. And he can read Eddie’s lips.

He’s okay, Eddie is saying, looking away from Steve’s face to find where Dustin is. He’s right behind us, sweetheart. He’s okay.

[chososluv]

PLUG!CHOSO

✎₊˚⊹♡ summary: i got to thinking about weed dealer choso and how you would be his favorite customer ˚ ༘ .˚🌱୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ wc: 4k

🏷 tags/warnings: fem!reader, reader has a vagina, weed dealer choso, you get high, mentions of cannabis, smoking, hotboxing high sex, petnames (ma, mamas) black coded, size kink, choso is big and has a big cock, oral (f/m receive), sex, smut, nsfw, creaming, squirting, also choso has a nose ring, sortve proofread!

Plug!Choso who you have known since childhood. While you never spoke (due to different circles) he always had his eye on you was determined to date you one day. His adolescent years where him and irrelevant friends would discuss their crushes, he always sang your praises behind your back about how enamored he was with you. It got to the point where his friends stopped asking who his crush was because they knew the answer would always be you.

Plug!Choso who grows up to be handsome and dashing. A usual rule follower who turned into something different after graduating High School. College wasn't his thing and eventually he found himself in a situation where he was moving pounds of marijuana. You heard this news through the grapevine and was pretty shocked to hear how the quieter boy turned into something totally different than you expected.

Plug!Choso's information gets passed onto you when you move back to town and need a dealer. One of your trusted best friend's — Nobara — assures you he's legit and pretty reasonable which is hard to find being femme and looking for a trusted dealer in that industry. With your friend's testimony and knowing of him since birth, you got in contact with him one evening when you had trouble sleeping.

Plug!Choso who does not recognize your number when you reach out to him. He starts to ignore it until he sees Nobara sent him a warning text that you would be reaching out to him. Word don't do justice to how wide his grin spread as he typed a reply to your request to cop a quarter ounce.

Plug!Choso who lives up to your expectations the moment you two meet in the parking garage of your apartment. You sat in the comfort in your car, seeing a sleek black Audi pull up next to you. Looking over you notice a devilishly handsome face and it sends your stomach twisting and fluttering. He shoots you a charismatic grin as he was hopping out his car. He stands tall, sexy and wearing all black before he rounds your car. You unlock the door allowing him to slide into the passenger seat.

"Long time no see, ma how you been?"

Plug!Choso who has the nerve to smile after calling you a pet name and you fight grinning back. It's been years since you seen Choso and you had no idea he would be this fine. You saw the photos, but fuck they did not do justice as you looked him over. Daring and badass tattoo on his face — a solid black line that went horizontal across the bridge of his nose and stretched to his cheeks. Not to mention the annoyingly cute silver hoop he had in his left nostril. You weren't sure how much longer you could stay in close quarters with him looking this fine.

Plug!Choso has you playing it cool, offering him a friendly smile before you engaged in a conversation of catch up. The man giving you his full attention before you finished up.

"Dope, that's whats up. I got that quarter you asked for but since I haven't seen you in awhile let me smoke you out first."

Plug!Choso fights a grin when you agree to smoking in your car. He immediately pulls out a pre-rolled blunt and a lighter. You grin, laughing aloud as you start to tease him.

"Came ready huh?"

"I'm always ready, mama."

Plug!Choso and you share a blunt, laughing and giggling at one another. Choso learned that night that you were not only stunning, but hilarious. His stomach hurt from laughing and he tried to ignore the fact that he was getting increasingly turned on the more he spent time with you. You had unzipped your hoodie during the hotbox session, showing off your low cut cami and breasts that sat perky. He swallowed thickly and he tried to ignored his cock that was wanting to join the party.

"You might be my favorite customer." Plug!Choso would say after you made him laugh again. You snort, grabbing the blunt and inhaling generously. You stifle a cough before handing him the blunt back.

"I'm sure you say that to all your femme customers." You would say, even though reading his energy, you didn't believe your own words. However, playing a game you had to see where he was at with his intentions.

"Nah, just the ones I been crushing on since kindergarten."

the information comes to a surprise to you and you look to him with shock plastered all over your face. He only grins shyly back at you, taking a hit from the blunt and letting the cannabis help give him courage to a confession he’s been sitting on for years.

“You f’real?” Was all you could get out of your mouth and he can’t help but laugh. You laugh at yourself too but he nods, deciding one drag wasn’t enough and he needs another to calm his nerves.

“Deadass, y/n.” He says seriously and you can only feel your cheeks heat up. You look at him, holding his gaze as he hands the blunt back to you. You hold it in your hand, silent and taking a moment to gather your words. He starts to panic but then you move your mouth to speak.

“So what you gonna do about it now, Cho?” A cocky smirk on your mouth as you bring the blunt to your mouth. You inhale, hallowing your cheeks as you see the playful expression on his face. You can only think to yourself at how fucking handsome he is. And how that you were in the most ideal situation with said handsome man for something to happen. The close quarters with the cannabis involved…

you were surprised you were still in your seat — but then Choso spoke:

“Whatever you let me do, mama.”

And you lost your self control.

Plug!Choso who contains his excitement when you reach across him to let his seat back. You then climb over the console, sitting your weight fully on his lap as he decided to recline the seat. He lays back as you lean down, sitting on his lap. The thrill outweighing any rational thought that attempted to halt your actions. All those rational thoughts completely ceasing the moment your lips find his.

the kiss are slow, languid but desperate to get to know each other. Choso’s broad hands are finding the purchase of your back, groaning against your lips at how little you feel in his hands. You were the perfect size for him and the way you suck and nibble on his lips he knew you were going to be trouble. But he needed you to himself after having this taste. He couldn’t and wouldn’t let you pass through his fingertips.

Plug!Choso who makes out with you feverishly in your hot boxed car. Your hips want to ride against his cock that pokes against your thigh. You try to feel embarrassed at how desperately you fight against his hold to grind against his print, but the desire between your legs outweighs any decorum to had left. You feel hot and all you want to do is ride Choso in your car.

Plug!Choso is about to give in with the way you continue to lick at his lips. He opens his mouth to speak but your soft tongue slips past, causing him to stop talking and fall back into a tranquil state. Your wet muscle tasting and savoring every bit of Choso and he feels his dick jumping in his sweats. He’s seconds away from pulling his cock out before his phone rings. You pull away, the noise startling you and breaking the kiss. Choso reaches over to see the caller ID, seeing its Suguru.

“Hold on baby, it’s big bro.”

He answers the call and instantly regrets it because when he does it’s dire and requires he leave your presence. You can’t help it and you feel awkward — and let down — as he says he has to bounce. You crawl out of his lap and land back into the driver seat as he gathers himself. He fishes the quarter ounce of weed out of his pocket you originally asked for and he places it gently into you lap before sighing.

“Don’t worry about paying. Sorry I gotta leave.”

You assure Plug!Choso that its fine and that you will pay but when he shoots you a look you smile softly, uttering a thank you instead of continuing to press on repaying him.

“Its okay. That plug life.” You say understandably and he only nods his head. He quickly looks you over, eyeing you up and down as if he's debating something. Before you can ask him anything he brings his face close to yours, kissing your lips gently and knocking the breath out of you. He pulls away, looking in your eyes intensely and then replies.

“I’ll make it up to you.” He promises. Despite having fun, you didn’t hold your breath desperate he would prove you wrong.

and to your amazement, he does

It would be a couple days when Plug!Choso would text you asking you cheekily when would you be free to “run back the other night” (in his words!) and you have to fight with all your might to hide the stupid grin that stretched across your face (and you failed by the way and miserably).

Plug!Choso who pops by your apartment later that night with snacks, weed, and a bottle of liquor. You can only attempt to hide your excitement when he walked through your door, tall and handsome just as the other night. This time he wears a pair of black jeans, hoodie, and jacket thrown over. His hair is down and framed around his face gorgeously and while you try to hide your staring, Choso doesn't hide his. He's taking in your biker shorts that complimented your ass favorably and showed off your legs he was dying to have wrapped around his waist.

Plug!Choso and you have a successful night in. The TV is playing, a irrelevant series playing as you two gave each other your undivided attention. You found out more about each other and the more you two learned, the more you both became infatuated with one another. It had been awhile since a man had caught your attention and held it intensely. And while you thought that about Choso, he thought the same about you.

Plug!Choso who smokes you out to the point where your mind is numb but he's no better. He was pleasantly surprised at your weed tolerance being on par with his. Choso didn't know what he was going to do with you, but he did know he was about to take you off the map. Before he could stop himself his mouth is moving.

"Ma, I just realized I aint ever ask." He would say to you and you would raise your eyebrow. You lift your hand to your mouth, dragging from the current lit blunt you and Choso were working on.

"Ask what, Cho?" You say after exhaling. You take another hit from the blunt before passing it to Choso. He has a lazy grin as he takes the blunt. He looks at you, pausing briefly and his grin stretches wider. You start to ask him what is it before he cuts you off and leaves you speechless.

"You ain't got no one right?" Plug!Choso asks shyly and it has you grinning. You shake your head at his nature.

"No, do you?" You ask him, raising your eyebrow to await his answer. He smiles back at you before taking a soft hit from the blunt. He shakes his head as he exhales.

"Nah, but I'm hoping you could change that."

Plug!Choso who's a smooth motherfucker in how he shows he is interested in you. You can only grin once again. His charisma is something so suave and alluring, yet he was so shy and humble about it. Choso was checking all your boxes and the fact that he was respectful with you thus far, why not give him a chance?

And you do, by leaning forward to kiss him on your couch. He only sits back, grabbing your waist and places you in his lap. You settle like you were made to be there, hands touching his face and holding it with your hands. He has his hands on your waist just like that first night, this time letting you rut against his lap. He groans at the feeling, feeling his cock tense at the sudden sensation. You moan against his lips, feeling that print slowly start to poke at your inner thigh.

"Want you." You said against his lips and those are two words Choso had been waiting to hear for god know's how long. He began to smile in between kisses and he trails a hand up to your hoodie, tugging at the hem. It was two words and sweet petname that left his mouth next that had you on cloud nine for the rest of the night.

"I'm yours, ma."

Plug!Choso found himself on cloud nine with you the moment you wrapped your mouth around his leaky tip. He groaned, your wet hot lips suckling on his angry red tip. His hand is in your hair as you slowly took every inch of his thick cock in your mouth. You never had a cock this big in your mouth before, but it was worth it with the way Choso cussed and moaned above you. Your eyes open, looking up to him and you moan softly around him when you take in the sight of him falling a part.

Plug!Choso who can't believe he's threatening to spill his load down your tight throat the moment you look at him. Your pretty eyes staring at him as you take his cock in your mouth and the sight is so filthy yet so beautiful he wishes he could take a picture. He bites his lip, hand coming to your cheek as he caresses it tenderly. His other hand grabs your hair to pull it out of your face.

"Fuck, so pretty with my cock in your mouth, mama." He praised in that deep husky voice. You moaned in response, rubbing your thighs together at his praises and delicate touches. You wanted him so bad you felt that ache in your cunt that could only be cured with Choso's big cock deep inside you. Hungry for more moans, you take more of him in your mouth, tip nudging its way down your throat and earning what you sought out. Choso curses, toes curling in his shoes as he threw his head back. His head hits the back of the couch with a thud but he doesn't even care. Not with the way you continue to take him in your mouth and then swallow around him.

"Ah, shit —Y/n get up here." He commanded and you let his dick fall out your mouth lewdly. There's spit, drool, and cum around your lips and chin. There is even a small string of salvia connected from your bottom lip to the tip of his glistening cock. You can only grin at him, licking your lips as you wipe your chin, proud of your work

"Was having fun." You pouted, dramatically extending your bottom lip and he runs his thumb across it. A soft smile and a chuckle leaves his mouth before he speaks.

"Ion wanna cum down your throat pretty girl," he started off, "wanna feel that little pussy on me first." Him explicitly mentioning your cunt set something off in you because you got up from the floor. You held your hand out for him to take, ready to have him fuck the life out of you in your room. He lazily pulled up his pants but kicked off his shoes, getting up from the couch and taking your hand. He licks his lips as he follows you to your room.

Plug!Choso who has to eat your pussy before he sticks his cock in. A small reason is because he needs to relax after that immaculate head you gave him, the biggest reason is that he's been dying to have his face buried between your thighs. His tongue eagerly exploring every fold and curve of your cunt. He nose nudging against your clit as he lapped up the arousal that pooled at your entrance. You found yourself moaning loudly to the point where you were sure the neighbors could hear. You couldn't help it. His tongue circled every part of you so delicately you wanted to run away it felt that good.

He continued, snaking his tongue up from your hole to your swollen bud. You whimper, his hot muscle flickering before he sucked on it. You jolt, back arching as you whimper louder.

"Cho, fuck that feels so good." You sighed, the cannabis mixed with his tongue fucking you so good had you floating. The euphoric pleasure Choso provided, combined with the weed from earlier, you were in pure ecstasy. And you were sure you were soaking between your thighs, but with the way Choso sunk two thick fingers inside you, you knew he didn't care.

Plug!Choso who groans at the feeling of your hot walls around his fingers. He can't wait to feel it around his throbbing cock. You bite your lip, arching once more as your eyes screwed shut. Soft moans left your mouth as he continued to suck on your clit and sink a third finger inside.

"Pussy so tight, who you been fucking with baby?" Plug!Choso had to taunt as he was two knuckles deep in you. You moan at his words before mustering up a reply.

"Not you. Change that now please." You said to him, a little fiesty and you opened your eyes to look down at him. He only gives you a grin — clit still in mouth — when you look at him. You two hold eye contact as he lets go of your clit. He gives it one last, fat and wet lick causing your thighs to shake. He slowly removes his fingers, taking those digits and sticking them in his mouth to taste your cream and arousal. He climbs up your body and then kisses you as he settled between your legs.

Plug!Choso who decided he was really going to take you off the map the moment he slid inside you. The way you squeezed him so tightly and moaned beneath him he wanted the moment to last forever. Fuck, he wanted to live between your legs for the rest of is life as he never wanted to leave that tight squeeze of your cunt.

"So big, Cho." You cried beneath him, feeling so full with him inside you. You wrapped your legs around him tightly, arms around his torso as he fucked you into your mattress. You could only moan helplessly beneath him as each stroke sent shockwaves deep within your belly. Tears were already welling in your eyes at how fucking good he felt. He was just getting started but his cock was hitting all those spots in you effortlessly.

"You're so tight baby," he groaned, "imma have to take this pussy off the map." Plug!Choso is pussy drunk off you just after fucking you for a few minutes. He wasn't embarrassed. He's been with plenty of people and none of them made you feel the way he did. So when you said these next words, he damn near fell in love.

"Do it, i'm yours, Cho." You moaned, clenching tightly around him and digging your heel into his backside. He bottoms out, tip nudging the deepest parts of you and you let out a wail. He moves his head to kiss along your face, peppering you with kisses as he continues to fuck you.

"so perfect for me, ma." he praised, "so good so fucking beautiful." Plug!Choso rambled as he continued to fuck you. You could only whimper and moan at his praises as you were too gone and fucked out from his cock. You knew you were only seconds away from cumming all over him.

And those seconds turned to right now when his fingers found your neglected clit, stimulating and unlocking the final push you needed to tumble into bliss.

"Cho—, cumming!" You let go, cumming and squirting all over him. Choso could only swear, your wails so sexy and sensual he had no choice but to pull out and cum all over your stomach. He strokes his cock, moaning as he paints your belly with his cum and the load is huge. You moan as you watch him spill, the scene too hot for you care about the messiness.

"fuck." He sighed out, panting as he sat on his knees. You giggle and let your head fall back on the pillow. A sigh of content escaped your lips, letting your eyes close for a moment before you felt the bed dip and footsteps thud away. You opened your eyes, seeing Choso already grabbing cleaning wipes that were on your sink to commence the clean up. You swooned as you saw the big man dip back onto the bed, wiping your stomach clean before he worked between your legs.

"So glad you came back into town." Plug!Choso said after you two cleaned up and showered. You could only kiss his cheek, beaming at him as he looked at you. You lick your lips before you replied.

"Me too."

Plug!Choso who talks to you everyday after your hookup. He's healthily obsessed with you, texting you good morning, asking if you ate, and always checking in to see how your day was going. Whenever you were having a bad day, he showed up determined to make it better. He's dependable, sweet, and charming, not to mention he spoils the hell out of you by sending you stacks just because he felt like it — or maybe because you rode him good as hell the night before who knows? You two were absorbed with one another sexually and intimately.

Eventually he asked you to be his girlfriend and there was no surprise there. It was a long time coming especially when he romanced you with a dinner and a dreamy getaway to a luxurious hotel. He had you bent over a jacuzzi tub littered with bubbles and rose petals, deep in your cervix when he asked you formally to be his.

"So you gonna be my girl or what, mama?"

Distracted by his girth stretching you out, it took for an ass slap and a repeated question for you to answer. You wailed out an affirmation to which he kisses up and down your neck before bitting down, surely leaving a hickie. That night becoming special as he made you his and vice versa. And he wanted everyone to know it.

Plug!Choso knew hickies weren't enough and decided he needed to get you a iced out Tiffany bracelet. The pretty bracelet was presented to you casually when he stopped by one day at your apartment. You had lost a cheap bracelet earlier that week and was pretty distraught about it. Choso remembered you crying upon losing it and little did you know that night he went shopping looking at replacements. Choso wanted to give himself boyfriend of the year award when he saw that look on your face when you saw what the gift was.

"Baby oh my god its so pretty," you had said, "but wait how much was this because this does not look like a normal Tiffany bracelet." The cost worrying you but Choso shrugged like he didn't spend tens of thousands of dollars to customize the bracelet.

"Plug life, baby. Don't worry about it I gotchu." Choso said to you, leaning down to kiss your forehead and you didn't press any further. You only then asked him to put it on you as you let his words soothe you into not pressing the matter further. You knew he wouldn't do it if he didn't want to. He only does what he does for you because he wants to

after all, you're Plug!Choso's favorite customer!

©𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐯 ╰┈┈➤ MASTERLIST! ╰┈┈➤ PART TWO!

[unfinishedslurs]

gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar. 

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos. 

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter. 

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt. 

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then. 

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole. 

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out. 

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh. 

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks. 

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.” 

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve. 

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time. 

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country. 

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here. 

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn. 

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears. 

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken. 

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening. 

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone. 

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him. 

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone. 

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs. 

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone. 

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt. 

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters. 

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car? 

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho.  And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute. 

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is. 

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says. 

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums. 

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish. 

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham. 

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else. 

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time. 

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again. 

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles. 

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands. 

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut. 

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest. 

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses. 

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees. 

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink. 

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before. 

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt. 

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips. 

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful. 

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message. 

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out. 

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall. 

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently. 

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it. 

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them. 

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock. 

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex. 

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner. 

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity. 

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly. 

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!” 

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd. 

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument. 

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve. 

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares. 

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder. 

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.