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ellesgreenaway · 2 years

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say that you miss me | eddie munson

summary: a birthday party brings eddie reluctantly back together with an old high school flame he hasn’t seen in two years.

word count: 7.7k

warnings: minors dni, smut, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie (?), swearing, afab reader, slight angst, hurt/comfort, reader initially doesn’t come off very well, use of drink and mention of drugs

a/n: i’m actually a little nervous about this one as it’s really the longest fic i’ve ever written and i haven’t really written like much in this way so please be kind to me! any feedback is really appreciated :)

“Du-ude!” Steve cries out in despair when he opens his front door, both voice and face riddled in disappointment. “I told you to comb your damn hair when it’s wet! What is this shit?”

Eddie blinks deadpan, standing frigid with a large box full of an assortment of black market priced alcohol (it was half spiced rum, clearly not much of a demand for it) with his little box of the good stuff buried deep. “I think you mean to say: Hey Eddie, thanks so much for bringing hundreds of dollars of merchandise to my party.” He replies, thick with sarcasm.

Eddie could barely hear himself speak. He had only arrived a whole twenty minutes after the said start time of the party that Steve had announced to the group (and repeatedly after for the last several days leading up to it), deemed by young person status as way too early, and yet Eddie could barely make out any other sounds apart from the dreaded sound of the popped-up excuse of rock that was overplayed on every radio station booming thickly through every wall of the (quite frankly) colossal hunk of a house Steve lived in. People were bustling in and out of rooms and collecting in rooms like it was New York City, and it immediately put Eddie on edge. He arrived early to make sure he could be scarce, not the centre of attention.

Steve rolls his eyes, taking the box of beverages from Eddie’s hands. He made sure his drug box was taken out before it was no longer in his possession. “I’m just saying man, you complain time and time again about how frizzy and knotty it gets, and when I offer you sound advice, you disregard it.” Eddie is following his friend blindly through the open plan grandeur of a home Steve finds himself lucky enough to live in, half not listening because he thinks he’s never seen a house this big before, let alone been in one. He bumps into person after person, recognising them all from high school, and it’s only a few seconds before the lump in Eddie’s throat grows ever bigger as he realises this was just an excuse to throw an informal high school reunion. It had only been months for Eddie compared to years for everyone else; he wasn’t sure he was mentally prepared for this to be thrust upon him.

“And you still don’t listen!” Steve quips harshly, and the tone gets Eddie’s attention after a long while, making the metalhead roll his eyes with minimal care.

Eddie shrugs lightly, an end destination in sight as Steve sets down the worn cardboard onto a spacious wooden table, placed against the wall where an assortment of other drinks have already been placed in their regiment.

People are looking, and aren’t really making it subtle, either. They were probably just as surprised as Eddie was - what was he doing showing his face in Steve Harrington’s home? - but it seemed that, by some miracle, they were friends, so it was a heckle-free zone. As much as Steve’s reputation had dropped since he left school, he was still much more well-known than anyone else in this house. The shouts of murderer and satan worshipper were hung up at the door for one night only.

It was packed beyond belief, but when Eddie looks around him, he notices the entire bottom floor of the house is rid of personal photos, glass and anything that exceeds the value of ten dollars. Apparently, even at the ripe old age of twenty-one, Steve is still deathly afraid of getting his ass handed to him by his parents. Eddie knows he wouldn’t want that from Wayne, even if he were forty.

“When’s Robin getting here? I rarely see her without you.”

Steve seems to relieve himself of some of the party hosting stress that evidently seems to have piled on top of him throughout the day at the mention of his best friend’s name. “She came from work with me this afternoon, she’s just running an errand for me.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, more in disbelief than shock, it was quite on brand for Harrington to get the whole gang involved for something so trivial as a party that will probably be filled with people he’s been dreading seeing since the day he graduated — everyone he went to high school with. Worse, people who finished high school before he did.

A small snort leaves Eddie’s nose, mindlessly fiddling with a small bowl of gummy bears that sat lonesome at the edge of the drinks table. It lay practically untouched, and he could only imagine that Robin had insisted some sort of food would be provided at the bash. Eddie was growing uncomfortable; he rarely spent time alone with Steve Harrington, and it’s never exceeded the point of awkwardness. It was teetering on the edge of such.

“I dread to think what you got that asswipe Henderson to do for this.” Eddie laughs, and it seems to have avoided the edge of that awkward ledge, as Steve chuckles along just as the door goes.

“He got home from college only last night and is currently hauling ass, borrowing speakers from Family Video to bring them here. Little dude can barely carry one of those things, will probably need Mike or some shit to help him.”

Steve opens the door to Robin, who looks annoyed as per with her friend, holding up several sheets of fax-printed paper. She walks through without even greeting the birthday boy, something that ignites a stifle of laughter from Eddie under his breath. That earned him his own greeting from Robin, throwing him a quick wave as she slams the paper down on the table.

“Did you print it all? That fax machine is crap at the best of times.”

She rolls her eyes, throwing a pointed look at Eddie as if she were asking for help. “Why did I just walk in with three sheets of paper, dingus? To hand in a college essay?”

As Eddie’s smirk gets wider, Steve’s scowl deepens, snatching the paper to his own hands, scanning it momentarily.

“Honestly, I don’t even know why you need a list to this stupid party, anyway. Everyone’s already here, this town hasn’t had a party in years.”

Hold up, now Eddie’s curiosity seems to be piqued. His head whips to where Steve stood on the other side of him, taking the paper for himself and carefully dissecting every name that was typed in several long columns.

His eyes stop tracking on one name, head whipping up to Steve. “You invited Y/N?”

Steve furrows his brows, taking a swig from a beer he had picked up from the table. “You, Eddie Munson, know Y/N Y/L/N?”

Eddie swallows thickly, eyes shifting to the floor, uncharacteristically nervous, the paper being shoved roughly back into Robin’s hands. Seeing that name gave him such an immediate rush of butterflies he thought he was going to barf, and he was sober.

“I need a drink,” Was all Eddie could respond to the question posed to him, taking the nearest liquor and pouring a quick shot. It was unfortunate, he realised as the liquid burns layers off his throat, that it was tequila, but anything to take the edge of what he was feeling right now.

Robin widens her eyes, shifting the tequila bottle away from her friend by a few metres, worried the whole bottle would be demolished before long if Eddie carries on like this. “How about we start slower, hm? Like a beer,” She replaces the shot glass with a can quickly.

Steve narrows his eyes suspiciously at Eddie; he knows his fair share of the feeling a drink could fix instead of facing a past flame, but the pairing of Eddie and Y/N doesn’t fit at all in his head. “When were you two a thing?”

Eddie screws his eyes shut; he knows he can’t really avoid this subject for long. “Senior year. My first one.”

A small but triumphant cheer leaves Steve’s lips, clearly already on the edge between tipsy and slurring, his hand coming down to clap proudly on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Didn’t take you for goody two shoes to be your type man, but then again, how I ever dated the smartest girl in Hawkins beats me.”

Cringing and deciding he was officially too sober to take part in this conversation about his past love life, he takes his belongings, eyes drawn to the garden door.

“Surely someone needs some weed by now right?” He asks rhetorically, but turns to Robin with pleading eyes, who just shrugs bemused.

So much for these new friends.

Thankfully for Eddie, half the people at this party who were already drunk and looking for a little boost to keep the night going had somehow remembered Eddie was the drugs guy, not the accused murderer guy, and a small queue had formed at the bottom of the garden as he got on with what he was used to doing the whole of highschool: living in the darkness dealing the bad stuff to the angels of society.

It was such a monotonous process, asking what was needed, sorting it out into the numerous small translucent bags, opening his hand and waiting as the exchange was made. His head stayed down the entire time, so over the game of which Hawkins sweetheart wanted an experience of the dark side. It also depersonalised it for him, made him feel less guilty for doing what he did. He knew the risks of these things, but he didn’t have a choice. Being working class and only having a minimum wage job at The Hideout meant he was the lowest of the low. Not many options are handed to a young man with no savings and only a highschool diploma to his name.

“I had always hoped that something better for you would come along apart from this, Eddie.” Lulled a sweet tone, almost dripping with it, dancing into Eddie’s ears. His head snapped up. The sweetness was all too familiar to him, something he had occasionally dreamt of in the last few years.

And yet, dreams don’t really amount to the feeling of seeing you again. Except, it wasn’t the exact replica of the young woman he had seen leave Hawkins for college. You were rougher on the edges, a cigarette balancing between your index and middle finger, the smoke of it wafting up into your hair and around your clothes.

Eddie stifles a chortle, and he can’t help the smirk line his lips like he was seventeen again, “And I had never hoped to see someone like you smoking cigarettes when you berated me for doing the same.”

You roll your eyes, flicking the thing out of your delicate fingers, letting it fall into the damp grass. It sits there on the ground for a few seconds, burning into the green until your boot comes to crush it. Now the cigarette lays limp and surrounded by the ash of its former flame.

“It’s social only. I’m not addicted.”

The adjective almost felt like a small jab at Eddie, but he brushes it off, deciding instead with a polite smile. It was all he could manage when the beating of his heart thumped heavy in his ears and throat.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” Is what he settles with, but the thing is he actually meant it. It was nice to see you, however belated it may have been. And while there was a roughness he seemed to have never seen in you before, he was pleased to see that you had finally grown into your character. You were the woman you had always strived to be in highschool: unapologetically yourself, and it almost made him swoon in admiration.

Your face softens at that second, the first bricks of the wall you had built up around herself removing one by one. It was then that Eddie sees that you hadn’t really changed, no matter how grown up you had become. That same excited and slightly naïve sparkle of your eye appeared, just as you whisper back, “You too, Munson. It’s been a while.”

A wide grin began to line Eddie’s lips, and just as he were to open his mouth again, ready to dive into a nostalgic conversation and settle into memories that he cherishes so dearly to his chest, you get a fierce tap on your shoulder - more of a jab really - causing you to turn around and face whoever was disturbing Eddie’s time with you.

Another girl, someone who looks familiar but not enough for Eddie to care, along with Nancy Wheeler, who flashed Eddie a knowing little smile, eyes shifting to you, bounced up beside Eddie’s ex, grabbing onto your shoulders enthusiastically. The move almost made you fall from the surprising weight added to her back.

The unknown friend speaks first, her jaw constantly moving up and down, a fluorescent pink piece of bubblegum the one to blame for the jarring movement smacking in Eddie’s ears. “Hey, we’re about to play some poker in the basement if you wanna join,” She whines, and Eddie sighs to himself quietly. He had only managed to have forty-five whole seconds of you to himself, and you were already in high demand for your attention. It was something that harkened Eddie back to when he was coupled with her all that time ago. The girl notices Eddie sigh, her sharp gaze shifting to him, scrutinising everything about him in just a split second. “Who’s he?”

Suddenly you grow bashful, your cheeks darkening across your cheeks and the bridge of your nose, averting your eyes down to the patch of grass where your cigarette lay lifeless. Your mouth opened and closed again, the speechlessness overcoming every sense in your body.

Despite the flash of hurt that pangs Eddie’s chest, he speaks up, “I’m just the drugs guy.” He informs her with fake sincerity, one she didn’t notice as her eyes light up slightly at the opportunity struck before her to turn the party up a notch.

You flash Eddie a grateful smile, turning to your friend. “He’s not just the drugs guy,” You begin, and a match of hope lights itself in Eddie. Just say we dated, say we were a thing, a fling, anything, he begs in his mind. “This is Eddie Munson. We…We um- We went to school together. His mom used to clean my house.” You say bluntly, and the match in Eddie dies out quickly.

Suddenly Eddie is reminded why he and you never worked out in the first place; not only did you ever manage to admit to one single person that you and Eddie were together, no, scrap that, in love, with one another, but it reminded him of a time more peaceful than what he’d been through in the years since you. His mother no longer being around was the hardest pill to swallow.

Seeing the disappointment fill Eddie’s eyes, you attempt to reach your arm to Eddie, and he’s letting you, showing no signs of resistance to the attempt of comfort, but you stop yourself just short of his bicep. The hesitation is all too clear all throughout you, body and face and all, and Eddie isn’t sure how much longer he can take this. He doesn’t need to be reminded by the first (and so far only) person he ever loved to tell him through everything but words that he wasn’t good enough.

Eddie lets in a sharp breath of the late autumnal air, the release of it creating a pillow of cold air that wisps around his face. “I best clock in a break, it seems custom has dried up for now.” He announces, as usual with an air of humour laced in with it, but as his eyes shift to avoid yours, he catches Nancy’s instead, who frowns with a level of concern that was equivalent to pity, and Eddie was certainly not in the mood for that.

“Hey Eddie, come play po-” You begin to ask, but Eddie was fast leaving the garden, which has slowly become unbearably stifling despite the chill creating thousands of small goosebumps underneath the leather protection of his jacket.

That drinks table was most certainly going to be raided.

You were glad to see Eddie again, you really were - you felt like after so many years being lost and bewildered, trying to find your footing in this weird world, seeing him again felt like she became grounded slightly again. You were really home now.

“So, that’s the infamous Eddie Munson,” Mused Wendy, a friend from college who’d come home with you for the weekend, sharing with you and Nancy an exciting wide smile, almost dying to hear the words that you wanted Wendy and Nancy to play matchmaker.

Wincing, you push her animated friend off of yourself, traipsing slowly back to the house where Eddie had well by now disappeared into. It would be near impossible to find him again in all this space with so many people in it.

Nancy pulls a puzzled face to the pair of friends, “Wait, you liked Eddie too? I just thought he had a massive crush or something.”

“Huh! Liked? The girl was in love with him, Nance. Spent her entire first semester in freshman year wallowing in our dorm for no reason until I finally got it out of her.”

Nancy was even more confused by the statement, and the journalistic instinct in her begged for more information, linking her arm through yours as they carried on their walk back to the loud wall of sound. “What happened between you guys?”

You sighed, looking down at a small chip that’s appeared in her nail polish since coming to the party. As much as it was nice to see Eddie again, reliving the mistakes of your past, and making them again wasn’t something that screamed 21st birthday to you, even if it wasn’t your birthday.

Still, you knew if you weren't going to say now, Nancy would be bugging you until she gave all the details and more. At least now she had control over how much you could reveal. You hadn’t even told Wendy everything, just the basics. “We dated in senior year. I was…concerned with how we’d look together. To everyone else. I knew it wouldn’t help my social status, basically.” You admit guiltily, and you knew that Nancy was smart enough to put the missing pieces of the jigsaw together, and her eyes widen with shock and a slight disappointment when she eventually does.

It made you sting. Yeah, you weren't proud of what you did either.

“And you just…what, haven’t spoken to him since then? Senior year of highschool?” Nancy exclaims out loud, and you try not to notice the sharp daggers Wendy points at the eldest Wheeler sibling, but you shrug it off, the guilt swimming in your lungs.

It was going to drown you.

Shrugging your two friends off your shoulders, you turn to them, a fierce look in your eyes, switching between them and the sight of the dozens of college students all crammed together dancing to whatever was playing. “Will there be lots and lots of booze at this poker game?”

Wendy smirks slightly, grabbing your hand and yanking you back inside the house, the once barely distant thumps of the music (you swore it was quieter before she came out into the garden) now distinctly deafening, feeling your organs jump with you in your body in time with the beat of the tunes. Nancy wasn’t far behind, more cautious than the impulsive actions of your freshman roommate and much more aware that there were other people attending too, but the busyness of the atmosphere has you not thinking straight.

That and the fact that Eddie Munson was at any given place in this house right now.

Approaching the drinks table where they earlier dropped off a polite bottle of wine (it had already been drunk), Wendy grabs three clean plastic shot glasses, reaching for the half-empty bottle of tequila standing nearest to her.

Nancy screws her face up, waving her hand in near total dismissal.

“Oh my God Wendy, you’re trying to kill me. I need a chaser if I’m gonna be forced to shot that.”

Laughing with an almost cynical undertone, Wendy raises the shot glass right under both Nancy and your noses. Both of you share the same look of dread.

“I know none of these small-town Indiana dorks apart from you two, so if I’m gonna have a good time, you’re gonna get wasted with me and we mess around, ‘kay?”

Well, you couldn’t really disagree with that doctrine.

Flinging back shot after shot, the music went from thumping and slightly unbearable beat of the music to danceable and you were even almost starting to enjoy it. You danced with your friends, well, it was dancing in their eyes, squashed among the dozens of people that amalgamated in Steve Harrington’s living room, and although the three of you were panting as you danced, the back of their necks collecting beads of sweat that eventually dripped down your necks, tickling your spines. It had been nice, for once, you thought as you waved your arms around in the crowd, grinning madly at your two friends, that you were able to fully enjoy yourself without consequence. Usually, you had practice in the morning, or study group, or you wouldn’t even be out, writing an essay until the early hours of the morning instead.

There was a slight sadness in your eyes as you danced, too. You might have been drunk and dancing like no one was watching, but she still felt the trickles of dread as the regret you had felt for the whole of freshman year for Eddie had returned in full force.

You were feeling small tears prick the back of your eyes; it came on suddenly, like a big wave at sea that looked small at first but was actually going to swallow you whole, and the dancing came too to a sudden stop.

You swallow thickly, patting your purse around your shoulder to make sure her cigarettes were packed away. “I’m um— I’m going to go for a quick smoke break, ‘kay?” You shout over the throbbing bass, and luckily your wave of emotion came at the right time, both Nancy and Wendy agreeing they’ll meet you in the basement game of poker Jonathan, Robin and Steve were at.

The lighter came in contact with the cigarette as soon as you had stepped outside, and you had never been so grateful to take a puff from something you tolerated at the best of times, walking over to a step at the side of the house, letting the cool air gently penetrate your burning skin.

When holding the stick of tobacco between your two fingers, your mind once again goes to Eddie. How he brought up the fact you told him off as much as you could whenever he smoked one of his own, and how much it was true. The memory brought a bittersweet chuckle past your lips, slightly curved from the nostalgia.

You heard the sound of feet dragging against the pebbles of the driveway behind you, and you weren’t very surprised to see Eddie approach you, his trademark smirk painting his mouth, but it was more subtle than usual.

You throw him a wobbly smile, suddenly feeling the need to put the cigarette out again, so desperately insecure of doing anything remotely bad around him. Eddie, of all people, but you knew it was because these were all things you never would have done in highschool.

He was going to walk past you, step over her tight-clad legs and carry on his journey to what looks like his van, just a few metres off in the distance, but a thought bubbles up in your mind, and you knew it would bug you forever if you didn't ask there and then.

“Do you have regrets?” You ask, just above a whisper but not quite talking at a normal volume. You were nervous to ask.

Eddie turned around, furrowing his eyebrows in curiosity at you. He likes to think he still knows you well enough to know that this isn’t brought on from random drunk thoughts, but he also knew he couldn’t just ask outright what got you asking questions like this. Not anymore, anyway.

He begins to walk back, standing over her just centimetres away, his eyes studying your face, which was turned down to the ground, your lips pursed desperately around the cigarette that was nearly out, looking at you drain everything you could out of it. He decides to perch next to you, leaving a big enough gap that it was considered appropriate. “Regrets about what? Mine are sorted into categories, you know.”

You smile, puffing out a laugh from your nose. “I dunno, like…Do you ever regret not going to college? For not passing senior year first time? All those little things that you could have changed, could have altered to make that slight little bit of improvement, but you just…didn’t?”

Eddie thought about your question, lighting a cigarette of his own while he pondered. “I could’ve, yeah. I could have done all that shit, got a degree, left this town, maybe studied something I knew I would be good at. But, ah, I don’t know. I don’t think there’s any point in wasting my energy on the what ifs. I have shit I gotta deal with now, today, and that takes up enough as it is,” He inhales deep, getting lost in his thoughts while looking at you. He had never seen you so troubled, not even when you two broke up. “I feel like I could have done better, a lot of times, but do I regret it? Rarely.”

You don’t really respond, just sniff and look away again, your hand drawing through your hair delicately, but it was like it was bothering you. Everything seemed to look like everything was bothersome in a way.

“My turn,” Eddie declares, feeling like this was the only way to find out what was wrong with you. He wasn’t even thinking about the fact that he hadn’t seen you in two years, or that forty-five minutes ago he wanted to be anywhere but around you. The need to act like your support dial had overwhelmed him like an instinct. This was natural. “You have never felt the need to feel regret once in your life, sweetheart.”

“Not a question.” You point out.

Eddie chuckles, holding his finger up to you, “Patience, I’m getting there,” And suddenly you turn to him, your body strong and straight, but eyes are full of worry for whatever he could possibly ask. He hopes you know him well enough to still guess it’s probably to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering you. “So you’re obviously regretting something, what is it?”

You huff heavily, and Eddie could sense your walls were going up, defending yourself from the vulnerability and insecurity you once gave herself willingly to with Eddie. You shuffled away one inch. “I haven’t seen you in two years, Munson. You can’t expect me to tell you all my worries and fears like we’re still together.”

Eddie feels the need to remind himself to be patient, swallowing thickly. He can’t help but trick himself into thinking this, looking at you, the moonlight twinkling in your eyes, making you look so ethereal with your beauty.

“You asked first, sweetheart, don’t pretend you don’t miss talking to me.” He replies, but it just seems to have frustrated you more. Eddie knows it’s not frustration directly at him, your frustrated with herself.

You look at him, eyebrows crossed, a crease diving the two of you. “So what? I— ugh! Everything is so fucking complicated!”

“With me?”

“Yes!” You cry, and you’re stood now, pacing up and down the little alley created at the side of Steve’s house. “But no, too. I…seeing you tonight has just thrown me off, that’s all. I…I can’t think straight.”

“Ah, so that’s why to your friends I’m still Eddie, a friend whose mom cleaned for your mom?” He asks, and it was petty, he knows, but the stings of pain just couldn’t help but trickle their way into the conversation. All he ever wanted from you was to just admit that you were both in love, even if it was once upon a time.

You crumple your fists as if you were containing all your anger in there, but when your head throws up to look at Eddie, who’s also stood up by now, your eyes are full of nothing but apology.

“Come on Eddie, you know I never meant that. And…And you always meant more than that to me. So did your mother. She was like family to us.”

Eddie huffs, and the dread returns to him like a bad sickness. He realises tonight, seeing you for the first time in months and months that really, he never got over you. You matter as much to him now and as you did when you were seniors sneaking around, but the insecurity fills his chest when he explores the thought that you could ever have felt the way he did.

Maybe he was too drunk. God knows you were too.

“I think I’m just gonna conduct business from my van for the rest of the night. Enjoy the party, Y/N.” He says defeatedly, walking to his van and expecting his old flame to walk in the opposite direction.

But you didn’t. You didn’t walk away, not this time.

“Well what do you want me to do, Eddie? Take back the past?! That’s impossible!” You ask as you follow him to his van, your hands flying around your face wildly. There were tears glassing over your eyeballs, and no matter how mad at you he is for hurting him, for making him feel every bit like he didn��t deserve to be loved, Eddie’s chest still tightened when he saw you like this. You run your hands through your hair again, practically ruining it, sniffing roughly. “I loved you, I loved you like I’ve never loved anyone else before…and yeah, I couldn’t say it out loud when I was seventeen, and I’m sorry, I really am,” You’re looking at him dead in the eye now, any hesitation or resistance he had seen earlier in the night now completely gone, and Eddie feels a change in the electricity around the two of you when he looks back, “but you can’t punish me forever. I’m done being punished, Eddie. If you wanna move on so badly, do it.”

He thinks you’ve said this because you know deep down that the daring words that drip from your tongue edge Eddie to stay, do the complete opposite of what you’ve offered him. You’re not dumb, you’ve probably noticed the way that ever since you asked him that question at the side of the house that he’s inched closer to you with every word shared between you, nice or not. You can probably smell the mix of musky wood from his cologne and the ashy taste of cigarettes that permanently linger in his mouth, just as he can smell the sweet floral tones of your perfume, a mix of flowers and soap.

You have seen to finally have given him an out. It should have felt relieving.

Yet Eddie just couldn’t back away. He hesitates a scoff, low and scowling, tired of arguing but he has no other way to talk to you right now without wanting to just take your face in his hands and kiss those plump glossy lips of yours. “You still couldn’t even admit we were even together. We’re twenty now. Hell, almost twenty-one. Three years on and you can’t admit it!”

You’re bashful, looking down to the concrete driveway. “I don’t want them to give any more excuses to constantly pick at you.”

“Them?”

“This batshit crazy town, Munson! What do you think people will do when they find out we dated, huh? They’ll tear you apart, think you corrupted me or put your bullshit claims of satanism onto you, and I can’t help you! I’ll be in Emerson!” You say, the tear falling loose from your eye and trailing down your cheek.

Eddie blinks at you, the act of anger slowly washing away on his features. “You heard about everything then, huh?”

“I think I spent my whole summer telling people to go fuck themselves for thinking someone who likes metal and plays a kids fantasy game was capable of murder.” You says with a nervous chuckle, and Eddie’s heart rises to a flutter, staring at you with contentment, and a reminiscent reminder of the way he used to look at you when you were together; with total infatuation.

Suddenly Eddie was stuck.

He was stuck because he had finally been given an opportunity to move on from you, try and forget your face as he lived your life and you carried on with yours in Boston, but he doesn’t think he had ever imagined a more beautiful thought than thinking about you telling a stranger making comments about Eddie the murderer to do one.

He stays stuck while looking at you, leaning against the back door of his van, head staring at the cold night sky, exposing your neck, your chest heaving up and down from the exhaustion of their argument. Eddie couldn’t stop staring, momentarily parting his lips and wetting them with his tongue.

He steps closer to you. It was only one small step, barely stretching his legs before your thighs touched his. You look down again to look him in the eye once more, but differently than before, you’ve noticed the change in air, too. You noticed the way Eddie has his lips slightly parted, his chocolate doe eyes are blown open, pupil swallowing the colour almost entirely. His hand is inching closer to your cheeks, and when his palm eventually comes into contact, you feel singes of his burning hot touch, almost like fire, and it alights a small gasp from your lips, a sound that roars Eddie’s determination to life.

His thumb lowers, tracing delicately down your cheek until it reached the corner of your lips, slightly chapped and the gloss drying in odd places, all the while keeping the fierce hold of your eyes that made you soften and pant harder in anticipation.

A small smirk quirks one side of Eddie’s mouth. He has you right where he wants you, ready for him to launch onto you and get back to what you used to do in highschool, but he wasn’t going to give it to you just yet. “I would kiss you,” He begins, voice low and grumbling a little with the whisper, “But you might not want everyone else to know your pretty little mouth likes kissing the freak of Hawkins.”

Immediately you roll your eyes, your own hand cupping Eddie’s cheek. You take the majority of the leap, their lips in contact but not kissing when you ever so slightly take your back off the van door.

“You kiss me right this second, Munson, or I tell everyone that you cried watching Grease.”

He stifles a snort, smirk only growing wider. “We can't be having that, can we? I have a reputation to think about.”

When their lips finally connect, Eddie feels like he’s truly on fire everywhere, the touch of your lips igniting a burn that’s travelled through every vein in his body. It’s like his body has woken up again after years of being asleep, a jolt of energy surging through his nerves, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

Eddie’s hands instinctively slide onto your waist as the kiss deepens, your mouths open, tongues playing with one another desperately. It was messier than Eddie had ever imagined, and definitely less romantic, but when you settle your arms around his neck, pulling on the hairs at the nape, any coherent thought about his dream reunion with you goes out of the window.

It’s possibly minutes before you finally disconnect, silently making out at the edge of a party like the teenagers they once were when you were together, but you never lose contact, your lips peppering kisses constantly on his lips and around them. Eddie is distracting himself putting his hands under your top, the cold of his hands against the warmth of your belly eliciting a high-pitched whine from you, and it’s a noise Eddie is familiar with.

It had been too long since he heard that heavenly sound.

You seemed to have kicked your thinking brain in, taking Eddie’s face between your hands and taking his lips off your neck. “Do we really wanna do this again? I…I don’t want you to beat yourself up for this.”

Eddie throws her a lust-filled smile, but the question of concern has his heart fluttering. “What did I tell you about me and regrets, darling?”

You throw him a grateful smile, but you still hold him with hesitancy. Oddly though, it’s a different kind of hesitancy than what he’s used to. He throws you a questioning look, and you sift his chocolate waves through your hands when you give in. “I want you to know that I always regretted the way I handled things with you. Because the love I felt for you…the love I feel for you, I never went about it the right way.”

Now the insecurity and fear has left Eddie, because as he looks at you, his hands enveloped in yours and flush against your sternum, trying not to think about those tits he’d missed so much swallowing half the conjoined hands as they squeezed together, he’d finally felt like he understood her side after all this time. You were just as insecure.

“Let me show you then, sweetheart,” He pleads quietly, pressing kisses to each corner of your mouth, “Let me show you how much I missed you.”

Happily relenting, you flush your lips against his, connecting once more, but this time it felt more comforting to the both of them, like coming home at long last. It wasn’t long before your mouths opened for one another, Eddie’s tongue in your mouth and sucking your bottom lip as you mewled in response. His cock twitches when he hears you make those noises, thinking he’d never hear them again yet here he was, against the back door of his van with his lips attacking yours, and your hips pressing into his crotch, making him grunt in response.

“Fuck Eddie,” You pant, already breathless when your lips aren’t on Eddie’s for three long seconds, and Eddie wants to throw his head back if it weren’t for your hands tangled in his hair. “As much as I’m happy to show everyone how much I love me a bit of Eddie Munson, this is a bit public for me.”

Eddie feels himself smirk into your neck, travelling down and he feels his chin touch the top of your tits, and he tilts his head down to kiss them gently. The traces of fingers and fiddling of clothes that so desperately want to be taken off but can’t in the open driveway with random people walking in and out of the house. Your touch feels like feathers along Eddie’s skin, and it makes him just want you more with every growing second.

He accidentally bumps your temple as he grabs onto the back door handle that stood beside you, opening it roughly. “Get in the back sweetheart,” He says lowly, taking his hands and putting them on your waist as he gently hoists you into the back. It was a place of small haven for the both of you, and the reason why Eddie always kept his van so clean compared to everything else he owned.

When you’re in you hold your hand out for Eddie to get in himself, giggling when he shuts it and takes hold of your waist again, finding it impossible to stay away from it, his fingers dancing delicately up your top, slowly making its way up your ribs and to the underwire of your bra. Your small gasp of surprise only encourages Eddie further, his hand reaching to the top of your bra and pulling your tits out, taking your nipple between his fingers and rubbing slowly, your head throwing back to the side of the van as you moan with more vigour, mouth open agape as you breathe heavily.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re always so noisy for me,” He groans, pinching your nipple for a high-pitched cry, which you gave him with no resistance. His cock lays stiff in his jeans, and he’s not sure how much longer he’s able to wait before he cums in his pants, so his other hand snakes down to where your tights and knickers scantily cover your pussy, rubbing over your clit and hearing you cry out into the crook of his ear.

He does that for a few seconds, switching between making sure each breast sat peaked and awake for him while running your clit, the wetness of your pussy quickly bleeding through the thin layers that protected you, his hips rutting against your thigh as he groans in every rhythmic motion of his hips. Your lips are always on him somehow, and just as Eddie feels like he’s going to burst, feeling his orgasm starting to bloom, his hands travel to your ass, cupping your cheeks in his hands and squeezing before he huskily asks you to jump, your legs wrapped around his waist while you work on getting your tights off, leaving them stretch just below your knees.

Eddie drags his lip between his teeth when he looks down to your panties, the large spot of wet ever so distinct to him, even in the pitch black darkness of the night.

Finally deciding to relieve himself, Eddie uses the one hand he’s not using holding onto you to take his belt off and undo his zipper, moaning with volume as he takes his cock between his hands, squeezing at his base lightly, all the while staring at you, your eyes filled with intense arousal.

“Fuck me, Eddie, please,” You whisper, your forehead resting against his in a sweet manner of intimacy in the heat and sweat of the activity you were both partaking in.

He drags his cock slowly against the thin layer of panties, your moan making him twitch even in his hand.

“I— shit, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart, if you say that you miss me,” He says thickly, his fingers toying with the edge of your knickers.

Forehead still on his, you kiss his cheek gently, then his nose, then the corner of his mouth and then to his lips when you reply, that twinkle in your eyes returned and brighter than ever in the darkness of the back of Eddie’s van. “I miss you Eddie. Jesus fuck, I’ve missed you every day. Not one day I didn’t think about you.”

He seems satisfied with the answer, kissing gently on your lips while he puts your panties to one side, delicately prodding your hole with his finger, and you clenched around him perfectly, dripping wet and waiting for his cock to fill you up all the way.

You both moan loudly when Eddie ruts his hips up, thrusting all the way. He swore he’d never forget how perfect you feel, how you managed to always fit him just perfectly, the right fit for him, but with him inside you once again for the first time in a few tears, it’s like a memory that had come to life once more.

He thrusts with a consistent confident pace, your mouths conjoined to silence the sounds of panting and morning as the van rocked back and forth as he fucked you against the sound of the van, your hands occasionally pulling on his hair when he ruts deeply to your sweet spot.

When you throw your head to the side, your moans getting more pant-like and heavy, and Eddie remembers your queue that you were close, and he was determined not to cum until he had satisfied you entirely.

“Come on baby, I know you wanna come for me. Miss me—fuck, miss me so much you’ll be such a good girl and cum just for me, yeah?” He grunts, his speech coming in time with his thrusts, and your loud moan in response tells him you’re close, really close, his thumb coming to massage circles onto your clit once more.

You moan again, tugging on Eddie’s hair, “I’m gonna cum Eddie.”

He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek, “Cum then, sweetheart. Make me proud,” And it undoes your knot, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami wave, Eddie feeling himself come undone just when he feels your juices drip down his cock and onto the thighs of his jeans, riding out his high with you by rocking gently, slowly coming to a stop when your moans run out and you tiredly hang your head into Eddie’s neck.

Kissing you once again when he pulls out, a whine of sensitivity leaving your mouth, he pulls your knickers and tights back up, stuffing himself back into his jeans before taking your hand and sitting you down on the small black loveseat he had bought for the band whenever they had practice.

Your head rest against his shoulder, hands mindlessly playing with the zip of his leather jacket while he strokes the top of your hair, pressing occasional kisses into it.

“I meant what I said, you know.” You whisper into the silent air, the van thick and muggy and smelling of sweat and sex that should have been enough to get Eddie out, but he was too tired to care. “I miss you everyday. And I-I fucked up, I know, but I wanna try again, with you,” You sat up now, looking at Eddie straight in the eye. “If you’d let me.”

Eddie smiles, full of love and adoration, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles as if they were made of gold. “I’d be stupid if I let the love of my fucking life get away from me like this again.”

tagging some people i love!

@will-on-the-internet @prettyboyeddiemunson, @benedictscanvas @indouloureux @lilacletter

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson ansgt #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson x gn!reader #stranger things fic #ruby writes

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twinklelilstarkey · 2 years

Text

Cheerleader - Eddie Munson

Words: 1.7k+ Type: Smut Summary: You and Eddie are complete opposites, and you don't know how you got to be where you are. Warnings: Fem!Reader [no mentions of race or body type]. Pretty much, porn with close to no plot. SMUT: P in v, choking kink, mentions of his rings, overstimulation, no condom (reader's on the pill).

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

By clicking to read more you are agreeing that you are over the age of 18 and mature enough to read mature scenes :)

It all started with looks. Eddie Munson has a loud personality, he can get anyone to look at him in a space like... a cafeteria. Especially everyone from your table. The populars. Every single person that surrounds it hates his guts. Some of the girls are even scared of him -- something about their parents thinking he’s satanic.

You never actually believed in that sort of thing, nor cared. And that has gotten you looks too. All of which from your friends as well.

That was the first time you knew to never defend a non-popular person in front of them again. You thought they would strip you out of your cheer uniform right there and then. The basketball team and the cheer team, all of them hate him. But, by now, you’ve learned how to lie a little too well.

Like it was said, it started with looks. Whenever Eddie would be looking around the cafeteria, in the midst of conversations, his eyes would sometimes land on you. The first time your eyes met, you looked away so quickly that you even felt guilty. Truth is, you were the one staring, but you didn’t want to be caught. But now? That is the least of your worries

The looks turned into stares from both sides. Sometimes he would find you staring, other times the other way around. Then, it came in the grins. Innocent smiles when no one else was looking. Or just the looking away with both of your hearts in your mouths. Walking by each other in the hallways became an excuse to be near one another. And, later, an excuse to touch each other.

The way your hand touched his, his cold rings grazed against your palm as you held it for a soft second.

Eddie swears he stared at his hand, with widened eyes, for the whole rest of the day. It’s not every day that the freak of the school gets a whole cheerleader giving him attention.

The next step was when you were walking to your car and you happened to walk past his van. He was distracted by something, but that's when he saw your uniform in the corner of his eye.

He said the first words, all while you were worried, looking around you and hoping that no one was watching. He noticed it and highly regretted even saying anything. But before he could go back in his van, you talked. The sound of your sweet voice and the faint smile on your face melted him right into a puddle.

You two talked, openly smiled, and made plans to hang out. The conversation felt so natural and so easy to do. It was like something out of your dreams.

You followed those plans and did even more of them. And yet, you’re not sure how you got to the point you’re in exactly.

“Shit, Eddie. Don’t stop, don’t stop.” You moan while laying your warm palm into the cold and fooged-up windows.

Eddie’s hold on your hips tightens as he thrusts his dick into your sweet little pussy. You moan loudly, blind and deaf with pleasure, feeling as if it is driving you to insanity. He hits every spot in the exact way you want him to. His touch is rough all over your body. His hands sometimes smooth down your back, grip onto your ass and his rings, his god damn rings only make it so much better.

You hold yourself up with your other hand on the backseats of the van, and moan Eddie’s name countlessly. He watches as your naked body shines with the light coming from the window, appearing more beautiful even with the sheer layer of sweat. His lips leave trails of kisses down your spine as he groans onto you, feeling you squeeze him with the walls of your cunt.

You bring your hand over to your hip, right on top of his, and you hold onto his hand as you arch your back further and move back to meet his thrusts. There's the sound of skin slapping sinfully as well as your moans and groans of pleasure, and with the heat built up on the inside of the van... All of it is too familiar, and all of it is too euphoric.

“You like it, don’t you?” Eddie asks as he moves back up.

His hips thrust more harshly onto you, and you sob out of pleasure. He looks down at how you hold his hand, and the feeling of surreality runs through him all over again.

“Hm?” He asks you again.

“Yes, yes, I do. Ssshit.” You gasp in the midst of your words. Your voice is weak and breaking right as you feel your body burn underneath your skin.

Eddie’s free hand comes to the back of your neck and he pulls you up. Your back meets his chest, and he never stops his thrusts. He slides his hand and wraps it around your neck, squeezing it in the way he learned that you enjoy.

You lean your head back on his shoulder and moan, blessing his ears time and time again. Eddie kisses and bites onto your neck, feeling and hearing how you react to his touch.

The wet sounds of the thrusts continue to fill the van, your moans are becoming whimpers and your second orgasm has never been so close to ripping through you. You squeeze your hand around Eddie’s, and he squeezes your neck in return.

The rings on his fingers will leave marks on your neck that you know won’t be easy to cover, but you can’t bring yourself to think about that.

Eddie’s hand slides away from your hip, the hand on your neck holding you in place, and he moves it down your stomach. His fingers and palm slide until his fingertips find your clit. His fingers are soaked in your juices right away, slippering over your bundle of nerves easily and making your body tighten, as well as making your choked moans come back.

“You can cum, sweetheart. Cum.” Eddie whispers in a harsh tone into your ear, consumed by pleasure himself.

A few more movements of his fingers and thrusts, and you come for the second time on his cock. Eddie never slows down his hips or his fingers and he continuously holds tight onto your neck. Simply riding out your orgasm but sending you into a world of overstimulation all at the same time.

The hand you had over his, now, holds onto his tattooed arm tightly. And your other hand wraps onto the wrist of the one that chokes you. You’re not even sure what sounds you’re letting out of your mouth because the reality is that your body is spasming with the never-ending pleasure. You know you’re saying something, you just have no idea what nor do you seem to have control over it.

Your eyes are closed, and Eddie’s lips are on your shoulder, kissing, biting, and sucking onto your silky smooth skin. He lets out heavy breaths just by your ear. Other times he lets out groans and even broken whimpers. All of the sounds that drive you absolutely crazy.

He whispers your name into your ear, and his eyes are now closed too. His movements are becoming sloppy, the sounds of your skin slapping never sounded so soaked. You grab tightly onto Eddie, nails getting onto his skin, all as you feel another orgasm unexpectedly build inside of you.

“Oh, baby, you feel so good.” He groans onto your ear.

A new layer of heat washes through you with the praise, and Eddie knows it. He knows exactly what to say to you and what to do with you. He hits every spot, he goes at the perfect pace. Eddie Munson knows what in the fuck he’s doing, and he will be the end of you.

“So good, so good, so good.” He repeats.

You find yourself grinding down against him as he keeps up the pace and that makes the two of you moan at the same time. His fingers never lift from your clit and soon enough, you feel the familiar feeling of the orgasm all over again.

Eddie holds onto you tightly, at one point, letting go of your neck and moving his hand to your chest instead. Your walls squeeze him so tightly, your moans come back, and your body tightens all over again. He leans his forehead on your shoulder for a little bit, groaning as he knows he can’t hold himself anymore.

After a few more thrusts, he feels his abs contract, and you feel him twitch inside of you. He moans onto your shoulder, holding you impossibly closer to him, and moves his hips to finally find his own orgasm. You ignore the slight discomfort of sensitivity and help him by moving against him.

Your walls squeeze him continuously, milking his cock as he spills his cum inside of you. You couldn’t be more thankful for taking the pill. You slide your hands over Eddie’s tattooed skin as he begins to slow down more and more, and you hold onto his hands, not wanting them to lift off you so soon.

“Holy shit.” Eddie whispers, breathing heavily while lifting his head to lay it over your shoulder.

You don’t bring yourself to talk just yet. You’re not sure if you even have a voice, even. Eddie doesn’t let go of you right away, but he does loosen his tight hold. You bring one of your hands over to the cold window again to hold yourself upright, making yourself gasp when you feel him pull out.

Eddie is careful and makes sure to move slowly, not wanting to hurt you, and he looks around in the van, quickly. He finds a box of tissues as you sit up upright again, and he hands them to you. You take it from his hands and thank him.

“You okay?” He asks, his warm hand over your shoulder, “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no.” You tell him with a smile, looking over your shoulder to look at him.

He looks a little relieved at your words and his heart swoons at the sight of your smile. You turn ever so slightly and move the hair away from his sweaty face. Your soft touch over his cheeks makes Eddie believe his heart will come out of your chest but, then, you kiss him.

It’s supposed to be a simple and short kiss, but right as you’re pulling away, Eddie chases it. He never roughens or even changes the mood of the kiss, his hands find your body again, and still, the kiss is nice and soft.

When you pull away, you look into each other’s eyes in silence.

Yeah, you have no fucking idea how you got into this situation, but you two sure as hell don’t regret any second of it.

Did you like this? I really hope you did <3

Masterlist ~ Ask Box (make conversation, tell me if you liked this... pls?)

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie mundon x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #joseph quinn #stranger things smut #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine

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little-annie · 1 year

Text

Licorice Ice Cream | Little_Annie

—--

It was just any other Saturday afternoon in the Forest Hills Trailer Park. Dogs barking, kids screaming, some fat drunk guy laid out on his lawn in nothing but suspiciously stained gitch. It was the furthest thing from nice, but it was familiar.

As was the absolutely sweltering trailer that surrounded Eddie as he laid in a puddle of his own sweat on the kitchen floor. It was the coldest surface he could find, what with the AC dead and any fan in the tin can he called home busted.

Much like the drunk laying on his lawn across the dirt road, Eddie was in his gitch, though, his were perfectly clean, thank you very much. Maybe just a wee bit sweaty is all.

Okay. Ick.

Anyways, gist of the story is: It's summer in Indiana and it's fucking hot.

And Eddie's van is broken down because of course it is, so he can't go anywhere that actually has AC until Wayne gets home and it's not like he's fucking going outside to 'catch a nice breeze' in the meantime. No thank you.

So yeah, Uncle Wayne needs to get home.

Which is in hmmm, t-minus 34 minutes and 26 seconds. You know, according to Eddie's watch, because yes, he's counting down the seconds until he can get out of Satan's literal asshole.

Fuck this Indiana heat, man.

Eddie didn't hate it as much when he was a kid; running through the sprinklers, climbing enormous trees, jumping into the algae ridden quarry, but now?

Now, he despises it. He loathes it.

He'd rather saw off his own dick and throw it to the Owlbear's than suffer another day sweating his nonexistent tits off in this trailer.

But

That's ever so slightly fucked up and really, Eddie loves his dick and could never imagine his life without it. He appreciates it. All however many inches of it. Even though some days it likes to say a 'hello' at some very inopportune times.

Like that time Billy Hargrove grabbed the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the lockers.

Or you know literally anytime he actually attended gym class.

Or that one mortifying time he had to get something from Jeff's locker, only to learn Steve Harrington's was directly below it and apparently the man had no concept of personal space. Just said a shy 'scuse me' and dropped to his knees, only to look up at Eddie with pig pretty puppy dog eyes and have the damn audacity to look like that. Fuck. Yeah, Eddie Jr. liked that very much.

Anywho.

He's here, pale, sweaty skin sticking to the lukewarm linoleum and toast crumbs on the kitchen floor, refusing to think about the fact that his Uncle's nasty ass old man feet slap across it every morning when he makes breakfast.

Eddie shudders at the mere thought he was trying to avoid.

Then checks his watch.

32:16 remains

Jesus fuck.

Well, maybe while he's here he can do something productive, like….like count what he can see of his Uncle's coffee mug collection?

Eddie's eyes blur as he wipes sweat from his brow and tries to focus on the ceramics lining the wall across from him.

'CAUTION, be sure BRAIN is engaged before putting MOUTH in gear'

'I'd rather be having a beer!'

'Wyoming. Less people. Less Problems."

'Have a nice poop'

'#1 Dad'

'Life's like a stripper, you can ……

—

Eddie swears he blacked out for a minute because, the next time he opens his eyes, it's to a very amused Uncle Wayne standing above him and a dusty steel toed boot nudging him in the ribs.

Wayne smiles down at him, all sweet with his tobacco stained teeth while he asks, "Wanna go to the mall kid?"

And well, let's just say, if Eddie could move that fast regularly, maybe he wouldn't have had so many 'heart to hearts' with Chief James Hopper over the years about his 'troubled youth' and how it led to his 'drug dealing business.'

Wayne hardly has a chance to suck in a breath after his question before Eddie's barreling down the hall to his room for a change of non-sweaty gitch and clothes.

It's when Eddie's pulling on a pair of black cutoffs that he hears Wayne yell down the hall, "Don't forget pit stick boy! If you've any chance with the men in this town, you least should try not smellin' like Hank's ass!"

Hank being the nearly naked fucker passed out drunk on his lawn across the way.

Eddie can hear Wayne snickering to himself in his old man huff of air way from down the hall as he calls back a laughing, "Fuck you old man!"

Receiving a "Love ya too Ed!" in response.

—

Not twenty minutes later and Eddie finds himself sighing in relief as he enters Starcourt mall. The air's frigid, his skin pricking delightfully into goose flesh with every nonsensical stride he takes.

He has nowhere in mind, purely wandering this cesspool of forced conformity and capitalism for the pure enjoyment of free air conditioning.

Soon enough Wayne finds himself a spot nearest the fountain, a screaming child to his left and a bitchy mother to his right. Though he seems none the wiser as he basks in the delightfulness of cool air around him, tipping his hat low and crossing his hands over his stomach, assuming his position for an apparent public nap.

Crazy old fucker.

Although capitalism is the actual devil and forced conformity is its ugly brother, Eddie can't help but feel the pull in his bones to at least check out the art supply shop.

Sue him. He wants to get more minis to paint for his upcoming campaign.

So that's how Eddie spends his time in the mall. Staring at tiny ceramic figurines, trying to come up with ways he can carve them down or add to them with modelling clay to make them further appear as NPCs from his rapidly building campaign.

Well and if he flirts with the guy behind the counter because he's giving off serious vibes, sue him twice.

It sure didn’t seem like Mr. Blue Eyes With A Pink Hanky in His Left Pocket, minded all that much.

All fluttery lashes and rosie cheeks.

—

The mall's twenty minutes from closing when Eddie goes searching for Wayne.

You'd think it'd be easy to find a 5'11, grumpy looking, old white man wearing blue jeans and a grey t-shirt in an Indiana mall.

Hah.

Yeah only half the population of said mall.

Much to not Eddie's surprise, Wayne had left his original post, probably in search of food, leaving a much rounder middle aged man to take his previous position.

Though they weren't technically father and son, Eddie can see a lot of himself in Wayne. Especially the constantly hungry and always needing to be moving aside from a fifteen minute power nap side of himself.

So, in order to find Wayne, Eddie just thinks of where his 56 year old self would have wandered off to. Food, being the most likely contender.

There's a steak house on the opposite end of the mall where Wayne could have possibly gone for a beer.

A pizza place where Eddie knows they serve Wayne's favourite pie by the slice daily.

A Diner with arguably the second best milkshakes in town, the first being Benny's on highway 6.

And finally, Scoops Ahoy, the most likely of the candidates.

If Eddie were a 56 year old, grumpy fucker, wearing blue jeans and a grey t-shirt, who just got off a 12 hour shift, is sweating his balls off, brought his pain in the ass nephew-son to the mall and just woke up from a fountain-side nap, yeah, he'd probably think about being balls deep in some strawberry ice cream too.

To Scoops Ahoy it is!

Trying not to trip on the ample amount of crotch goblins stomping through the mall, Eddie eventually makes his way to the ice cream shop. Seeing Wayne's salt and pepper hair through the front window amongst many other heads, Eddie opts to grab a seat outside due to the frankly sickening amount of patrons inside.

Not five minutes later does Eddie hear a playful shout of his name come from inside. His head snaps up to see Wayne tapping the glass that'd been facing Eddie's back a second ago. There's a calloused finger waving Eddie in as Wayne continues to speak to him through the glass, "I'm at the till kid, ya want anything?"

Um. Yeah. Does a Wererat shit in subterranean tunnel complexes beneath cities?

(The answer is yes. According to the Dungeons & Dragons 1st Edition Monster Manual.)

When Eddie pops his head into the shop it's not nearly as busy as it was a few minutes ago, most patrons probably grabbing a cone and dipping out before the mall closes.

But, to Eddie's surprise, as he reaches the counter, popping over Wayne's shoulder to take a peek at the menu, he sees the most glorious thing to grace this God forsaken planet.

To say Eddie's heart falls out of his ass in that moment is an understatement.

You see, they haven't been to the mall yet this summer, money's been tight, the weather hasn't been unbearable and they have more important things to spend their cash on.

But today, today is a different story. Eddie's sure he would have died of heat exhaustion had he stayed in that damn trailer any longer and both he and Wayne have been working extra shifts to round up some extra coin.

Coin, that they can spend on ice cream.

Coin, that along with Eddie's heart and jaw hit the floor at the site of Steve fucking Harrington in a sailors costume.

Because you see, if it wasn't for today Eddie would have never had the chance to see this. All five foot, eleven inches of pure American standing like a clip out of Playgirl in probably the sluttiest shorts Eddie has ever seen.

Not to mention the tight ass and chiselled thighs to boot.

Eddie's never believed in God, but after today, you might just find him worshipping at the altar or more likely confessing to father about the things Steve Harrington's bare legs are making him feel.

He's gobsmacked. Absolutely flabbergasted. Downright thunderstruck.

And he's definitely not going to go into detail about where his mind has wandered to in the moments he's begun to drool down his chin and hear "I Want to Know What Love Is" by Foreigner play in the background of his preoccupied pea brain.

"Ed."

"Son"

Oh shit.

"Huh?" He gulps, wiping his chin with the bottom half of his copped tank, eyes trying to refocus on the menu and not the Adonis standing with his gams out mere feet away.

"Steve here was asking if you wanted anything."

Eddie grits his teeth and blurts the first thing his eyes land on, "Licorice."

"Cup or cone?" Steve asks sweetly like Eddie's not having to fight off a stiffy by repeating 'dead puppies, Vietnam War, Wayne's had sex before,' like an anti public boner mantra.

"He'll have a cone." Wayne answers for him while crouching to pick up the change Eddie had dropped earlier, pinching his nephew's pale ankle in the process in hopes of bringing him back to life.

"Yep." Eddie agrees dumbly, voice nearly cracking with nerves.

And then for a moment it's definitely worse because fucking Steve 'Ass Sculpted by Michelangelo' Harrington turns around and bends over. Eddie's surprised he doesn't have a coronary. Or his eyes bulge out of his skull. Or he just like, fucking, fuck, he doesn't know, spontaneously combusts or some shit.

What the fuck is life right now?

Then he hears that old man huff of a laugh off to his left. Uncle Wayne.

Eddie's neck nearly breaks at the speed he turns his head to meet the sly smirk of his old man. He's never stared daggers so intensely into Wayne's soul as he is now.

All fire and brimstone and death and 'Jesus christ shut up old man.'

But Wayne continues to huff like the bastard he is.

Fucker.

But like, Eddie still loves him and is eternally grateful for everything the man has done and sacrificed for him over the years, even as he flips him off while the man continues to laugh.

Then there's Steve's buttery smooth voice that breaks him out of his death stare, "Will that be everything?"

Eddie just stares as his eyes finally meet Steve's, or well, actually his lips, but close enough.

God they look good, pink and plush, kissable, fuckable, come-on-able. Oof, Jesus he needs to get out of here.

Eddie's dick twitches behind his denim at the thought and before he can even grab his ice cream, he's fucking hightailing it out of there like a weirdo and squeaking out a pathetic excuse of a "thanks."

A whole minute later Wayne finds Eddie sitting on a bench out of view from the ice cream shop windows, pouting, lip out, brows furrowed and arms crossed. He joins him with a shit eating grin as he chuckles, "The Harrington boy huh?"

"No." Eddie answers defensively and rather quickly, not bothering to spare Wayne a glace.

It's quiet for a moment, then Eddie hears Wayne from beside him, "Didn't know you liked Licorice."

Eddie huffs, taking the cone from Wayne's grasp with a grumbled, "I don't."

#eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #steddie fandom #steddie #eddie x steve #stevexeddie #steddie headcanon #steddie fic #steddie fic rec

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bite-sized-devil · 1 year

Note

What are your first vs last impression of the demon brothers?

@crazyyanderefangirlfan

Ok Yan, since it's you asking of course I'll answer!

Disclaimer: these are just MY impressions. Don't take offence if I insult your favs. I won't give a fuck anyway (if I'm being honest I actually will give a fuck so please don't make me cry! I'm soft ok!)

Lucifer first impression:

Why does this chest clutching motherfucker think he's so fucking great, yeah he's good looking so what? Did he not choose me to be the exchange student? Why is he giving me so much fucking attitude then? Fucking annoying first born, oh you think your life is hard? Try being the first daughter, I look after my entire family including my older brothers. Unbelievable.

Lucifer last impression:

Daddy let me make you feel good, are you stressed? What am I saying you're always stressed! Let me give you everything you want/need. Let me look after your brother's for you, take a break, get some rest, wanna fuck?

Mammon first impression:

He's so pretty! But why is he always so mean to me? We could be friends man but you're ruining it by all the annoying pushing me away shit. I definitely don't think you're trash? I am also very down to steal from the rich. Bring on the shenanigans! Let's annoy the shit out of everyone!

Mammon last impression:

He's my precious babygirl! My favourite little dumby! My partner in crime! Does mammoney want to cuddle? A kiss? A dollar? Something shiny? He can have it all and more! Out of curiosity/necessity can we fuck on that pool table? Or is that like not in the cards for us? Because I have trick cards that we can use so it becomes in the cards?? Interested? No? Just me? Okkkiee!

Leviathan first impression:

My third crush. Angry little e-boy needs to get fucked, and I'm willing to take that one for the team. I instantly liked him. I love insecure losers, because I am one! Now continue your 3 hour speech about that new anime you're into, I am listening, I am interested, I am wanting to kiss that silly little face of yours!!!

Leviathan last impression:

See first impression, it has not changed. I LOVE HIM YOUR HONOUR. Is what I'd say if I was on trial. He's just such a pathetic nerd and I love that. And you know what, he's got a huuuuge dick and no one can convince me otherwise.

Satan first impression:

Book worm also likes cats. Ok I can dig that, personally I was not fussed on him to begin with, I was like where's the fire? Mainly because he wasn't very into the surprise guest shit and I didn't think it was worth it to spend my dp's on his favourite food for every surprise guest visit. And then I did the gold hellfire newt syrup arc and I was like oh damn there's the fire. Ok ok ok, I can get on this Satan train. I'll buy a ticket to ride.

Satan last impression:

I LOVE FLIRTING WITH HIM!! It's so easy and quite endearing to have him become a blushing mess. Proud member of the anti lucifer league, it gets me the punishment I neeeed 🙏🙏🙏 I also have like a fuck ton of cat pictures on my phone and I know he'd love that.

Asmodeus first impression:

He's pretty, and pink! But kind of full of himself. Originally I wasn't super interested in him, but he kept doing all this cute shit that kept drawing me back in. I want to pet his pretty little head and tell him he's the prettiest little being in all three realms. 🩷

Asmodeus last impression:

Besties! Fuck buddies! Dancing partner! He'll be seeing all of my naughty pictures before I send them because he's the one taking them. I still think he's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen and I'll be telling him that every second of every day.

Beelzebub first impression:

B I G. Like hello up there can I get a kiss? My second crush that took over first place. How could he not? He's so sweet, I want to take care of him. I want him to fuck me senseless every single night. My goodness, when he blushes I swear my coochie swoons. Did I say big already? I did? Ok well I'm saying it again! B I G!!!!!

Beelzebub last impression:

My one truest love. My favourite biggest boi. My sweet pumpkin pie. I love him. I love him. I love him. I love him. I'm completely not normal about him! I can't be, he drives me insane. Fucking BIG!

Belphegor first impression:

My first crush actually! He's just so pretty, and soft spoken and angry and he's so fucking romantic when he wants to be. He blows me away. And the fact that he is fine with me wanting his twin too? My god could he be anymore perfect.....

Belphegor last impression:

Hehe now my second crush! His twin takes first place. Still everything the same as first impression, but like X10 because he killed me. *Swoons* don't ask me to explain, it's obvious.

Would love to hear your first/last impressions too Yan! Or anyone's actually 😂

@sassykattery @delphi-dreamin @attic-club-sandwich @kyungjoon-do @yourboyhack @yuujispinkhair

#obey me!#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fandom #om!#om! shall we date #obey me mc #obey me beelzebub #om! belphegor #om! lucifer #obey me! satan #obey me! leviathan #obey me! asmo #obey me mammon

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ramblings-out-of-the-blue · 1 year

Text

Obey Me! Brothers – "Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Lucifer: The question doesn't get much of a reaction from him. He'll stare at you for an uncomfortable amount of time, trying to decipher what kind of ulterior motive could be behind such an absurd question. He's trying to think of all paths to remedy such a thing. If you could peer into his mind, you would just hear the dial-up noise for a second.

Lucifer (drunk): He declares, unprompted (and very softly and sincerely), that he would still love you if you if you became a worm, and he has every confidence that you'd be the best worm that ever wormed.

Mammon: He's the one doing the asking. It leads you to suspect that he's under a curse as punishment from Lucifer and he is about to, in fact, become a worm. This causes you to hover around him worriedly all day until you are confident that he is not about to become the Avatar of Greed (Worm Edition). You still have to reassure him that you would still love him within a certain amount of time, of he'll get upset and pouty and pretend that the question didn't matter (it did).

Leviathan: He'll also be the one to ask the question. During a moment of introspection after binging an unexpectedly profound anime or game, he'll ask, dead serious. If there's too long of a gap of silence, he'll launch into a rambling speech about how he would take care of you if you were a worm. The silence is because you're wondering where he got that question from, and if you can trust his spotty record of taking care of creatures.

Satan: If you ask him, he'll approach the question from a very logical standpoint – the logistics of worm care. What kind of worm are we talking about? Is this a permanent thing? Is it a curse? He's certain he has a book to reverse that somewhere...or maybe it was about being turned into a snake? Wait right there, he's going to go find that book–

Asmodeus: He comes at you, tears glistening in his eyes, and drapes himself upon you, gazing up into your eyes like a starlet in some dramatic romance film from the 40's. He's been staring at himself in the mirror for an inordinate amount of time and wonders if you would still love him if he were a worm. He'd be the most beautiful and lovable worm, so of course you would, but he needs to hear it.

Beelzebub: He would be incredibly saddened by the concept because he fears that he might accidentally eat you without realising it one day. But he holds your face gently (like a hamburger), as if you were already a delicate, fragile little worm and he must be extra careful, and swears he would absolutely still love you as a worm.

Belphegor: Of course he would. What kind of question is that? He admits it wouldn't be nearly as fun because it would mean he could no longer cuddle up to and sleep with you, but at least it means you'd always be nearby in your terrarium when he was asleep.

Bonus!

Diavolo: He seems unduly delighted by such a whimsical question. So much so, you wonder if he might go looking for a way to turn this worm thing into another of his fun bonding activities. He gets a bit swept up in the idea of actually taking care of worm-you and starts thinking about how he would design and exquisite worm-sized palace of a terrarium for hypothetical worm-you and Barbatos has to gently ground him in reality.

Luke: The poor dear looks like he's about to burst into tears at such a horrible prospect. He valiantly vows that he would take care of you, and feed you the best sweets he could make and–and–! Oh dear. He's crying.

Solomon: He finds the question intriguing and though he gives an answer that is undoubtedly a 'Yes', somehow the phrasing and delivery and the expression on his face and the unknowable twinkle in his eyes makes you feel like there's some kind of fine print that you're forgetting (the fine print is being at the mercy of his cooking).

#obey me!#obey me! hcs #Why doesn't the text selection have yellow as a selectable colour? *sob*#Simeon and Barbatos aren't here because I don't think I have a good grasp of their characters #Luke is just here because I think he would absolutely take this question way too seriously #Diavolo would be out here selecting a worm-drobe for your palace #obey me! brothers #obey me! lucifer #obey me! mammon #obey me! leviathan #obey me! satan #obey me! asmodeus #obey me! beelzebub #obey me! belphegor

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mlmxreader · 1 year

Text

To Be Together Again | Kim Horangi Hong-jin x m!reader

@satan-incarnate-666 asked: "Fuck you and your cute smile!" horangi x m!reader

summary: to be reunited is one thing, but to be able to mess around and to actually happy is completely different.

tws: swearing

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Horangi smiled up at you, playfully tugging his wrists as you held them above his head; his shirt was halfway across the room, probably near wherever you had thrown your own, and somehow, between kisses you had caught the tiger off-guard, and now had his wrists pinned to the soft duvet. He couldn’t help but to grin, so thankful that he was home that he could hardly even put it into words; he just wanted to keep looking at you above him, keep noticing how fucking handsome you were and wondering if maybe he wasn’t entirely unlucky after all.

He had, in defence of his usually shit luck, managed to get you to be his boyfriend; that was probably the luckiest he had ever been, the day when you agreed to have a steady relationship. Horangi had never been so lucky, and he had never been as lucky since either. He couldn’t wipe the grin from his face as he kept his eyes on you, not even trying not to hide how fond of you he truly was; no longer at base, you didn’t have to hide anything anymore for the sake of acting professional until you were alone with either your SAS squadron or KorTac.

The sound of ‘Versailles’ by Sabaton playing softly from the speaker. The smell of you against the bedsheets. The comfort of knowing that his clothes were in the wardrobe and not strewn about some concrete floor. His CDs piled up next to yours, a mix of heavy metal and Frank Sinatra. The familiar creaky grey floorboard three steps from the door. The taste of that coffee brand you liked on his lips. Horangi was over the fucking moon to be home at last, and he was so determined to make every goddamn second count.

You let go of his wrists, trailing a hand from his jaw to his stomach before you lowered yourself down, your entire weight resting on him as you pressed your face to the side of his neck, letting him put his arm around you as you hummed so contently; the soft touches, gentle caresses, so soothing as he gently ran his hand up and down your body. You were so warm against him, and he couldn’t help but to close his eyes as he relaxed against the duvet; he would have tied there, more than happy and content just to be with you.

“So, tiger,” you hummed, shifting around slightly so that you could trace little patterns on his bare chest. “What’d you wanna do now we’re both on leave?”

Horangi thought about it for a moment, letting out a quiet yawn; it wasn’t even getting late, it was only four o’clock in the morning, but he was absolutely shattered from where he was fresh from the battlefield. You both were, and he could tell from the way that your breath was starting to get slower and softer that you were starting to drift off to sleep without him; but he couldn’t be angry, not when you cuddled into him even more.

“I was thinking,” Horangi started, “that maybe we could take a trip to the zoo like we did for our first date… then head to the woods, spend a while wandering around… then come back and have a film marathon.”

“That sounds amazing,” you murmured sleepily, grazing your teeth against his neck just to make him shiver. Payback, for when he had bitten into your neck a few minutes ago. “Horror film marathon?”

He let out a soft laugh. “Is there any other kind?”

“What’d you have in mind?”

“The Wailing,” he started, “Train To Busan, The Host, Save the Green Planet, A Tale of Two Sisters, Three...Extremes Saam gaang yi, I Saw the Devil and Thirst.”

“I’ve seen one of those,” you admitted with a soft laugh. “So I’m down.”

Horangi had always had a soft spot for horror films, but he was even more glad that he got to share his favourites with you; getting you to watch them with him was always his favourite pastime, just feeling you against him and hearing your little jokes now and then. He would be content like that for hours, and as he thought about it, he couldn’t bite back the bright grin that came to his lips again; he would be looking forward to that for hours, now, counting down the minutes until you told him you were ready to start the marathon.

“Wipe that fucking grin from your lips,” you grumbled softly, playful and teasing. “Or I will do it for you.”

“Do it, then,” he teased back just as softly and playfully. “Or are you scared that KorTac will beat the SAS for once?”

“That sounds like a threat,” you mused. “Are you threatening me, Hong-jin?”

“Maybe,” Horangi replied, “but I wouldn’t tell you if I was.”

Slowly, you moved so that you were straddling his waist, your hands on his chest as you stared down at him with a raised brow; he wasted no time in putting his hands on your sides, keeping you there until he laughed and smiled at you.

“Fuck you and your cute smile!” You couldn’t help but to laugh as well, leaning down so that you could distract him with a kiss and make him stop smiling.

His hands came to your face, cradling it gently as you kissed him ever so tenderly; both of you were more than glad to be home and safe, but you were even more glad to be with one another again. To be able to mess around and have playful arguments like that, it meant fucking everything to you both; it meant that all the lost time you missed when you were both deployed and away was finally all made up and caught up.

You were both fucking ecstatic to be with one another again, it was definitely painfully obvious.

“I win,” you whispered against his lips as you pulled away.

“I’ll get you one day,” he warned.

“Oh, tiger,” you tutted, shaking your head. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

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unholy-screeching9 · 1 year

Text

NSFW CONTENT WARNING! 18+, MINORS DNI.

💋

Angry!King Dice x Reader NSFW Headcanons

Angry!King Dice x Reader NSFW Headcanons (GAME)

King Dice is the manager of a casino. Not just any casino, but the DEVIL’S casino. He’s the right hand of Satan. He’s certainly familiar with bad/long work days.

Normally, the man can use his charm and cool tone to diffuse situations before things take a turn for the worst, and the bad days don’t get so horrible.

But sometimes… Dice just can’t take it.

There were rowdy, rule-breaking patrons who wouldn’t leave the casino when Dice demanded. Things got physical. Dice and Devil had an argument over how the situation was handled.

Dice was let off with a warning, for something that wasn’t even his fault.

And boy, he was PISSED.

“Dammit. DAMMIT.” He would swear to himself as he storms out of his boss’s office, making his way down the long hallways and over to his chambers.

“For satan’s sakes, why can’t ANYONE here just listen to me?!” he’ll ask no one in particular. “Why does every single mishap always end up on MY shoulders? Fuck!” he would grumble, green eyes searching for his designated room.

He REALLY needed to let off some steam, and he knew just what- or who- could help him with his problem.

Your days off are very relaxing, as you get to coop up in the King’s room all day with a great book. His cards bring you meals, there’s a connected bathroom, you have everything you need for the day. Well, except for your partner, of course.

But you were patient. You always wait for him, and never fuss if he works overtime and doesn’t have the energy to make love to you on certain nights. You just want him to be happy, and would do anything to help him when needed.

And on nights when he’s angry? You would be lying if you said that the adrenaline rush didn’t excite you.

You’d never tell him out of respect for his feelings, but you ALWAYS love it when he comes back to his room and pounds you into oblivion after a long day.

And boy, when you heard the telltale stomping of Dice’s shoes approaching your door along with his angry muttering, you knew you were going to get just what you wanted.

The door SLAMS open, bringing light into the dark bedroom, jolting you out of your daze. You lift your head and gaze at the familiar silhouette of your lover, heating up at the sight.

Dice’s hand gripped the doorknob so hard you were surprised the thing didn’t crumble in his fist. You could hear the shaky, angry breaths of the fuming man, and for a second, you swear you just saw a flicker of bright green coming from his otherwise hidden eyes.

But he isn’t hidden for long. He snaps his fingers, the room flicking to life as the lights came on, revealing that delicious look of frustration on Dice’s face.

Bright green eyes burning into your skull, hunger and lust hidden behind the anger in them. His usually pristine and tight mustache, slightly disheveled. Bright, clean, gritted teeth. You know what you’re in for, and you could not be more eager.

“Bed. NOW.”

You don’t waste a second. You toss your book to the side and fling yourself onto the king sized bed, right where he wants you.

The door slams shut, and you hear the all too familiar sound of a belt being hastily unbuckled, and shoes being shucked off, carelessly thrown off to the side.

Before you know it, you feel the weight of Dice pouncing onto you. He’s already taken his waistcoat off and vest off, the clothing having been discarded with his shoes.

You reach up to help him unbutton his shirt when he swats your hand away angrily.

“Don’t you DARE touch me until I say you can, you impatient harlot. You’re my bitch tonight, and whatever I say, you do.”

You obey, laying your arms up and over your head as he unbuttons his shirt, chucking it behind him as he crawls overtop of you.

“Don’t ask me how my day was, either. I don’t even want to THINK about those slimy pricks. Cheap bastards, all of them.”

You’re silent, not daring to say a word unless spoken to directly. You’re his puppet, his plaything. You submit yourself to him completely, letting him rip off the clothes you’re wearing in one motion.

Those clothes are in pieces now, but you’re too turned on to care. You know he’ll buy you a new wardrobe anyway.

You say nothing as he yanks off his bow tie, using it to knot your hands together behind your head, watching him eagerly as he pulls down your underwear, revealing your genitals, soaking wet with precum.

For the first time that night, the King can’t help but chuckle dryly, musing in a mocking tone. “Well, well.. SOMEONE’S a hungry little slut tonight, hm? I won’t even need to lube up, you’ve already done that for me.”

Within the next minute, Dice is POUNDING into you, releasing every frustration of the day into each thrust.

Helping him reach even deeper, you move your hips along with his thrusts, establishing the rhythm as your desperate moans along with his focused grunts create a beautiful symphony.

By the halfway mark, Dice is vocalizing his anger in degradation as he’s slamming into you, the bed shaking slightly with his movements.

“Ohhh, you dirty little WHORE, you always know just what to do… You were on this bed in seconds! Were you waiting for me to get back just so I would fuck you, hm? Are you that much of a slut?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you scream in pleasure, the noise bringing Dice closer to release as he somehow picks up the pace, fucking you senseless.

“Moan for me, hussy. SCREAM for me. I want to hear your pathetic cries for release, but you better not cum. Don’t you DARE cum until I give you permission.”

You do just as he asks. You throw your head back, moaning so loud you’re certain the whole casino can hear, begging your lover to let you hit your climax.

“Ohhh, my King! King Dice! I’ll be good, I promise! I’ll be so good to you! Please, let me cum! Please!!”

The die grins above you, thrusting as deep as he can go, as fast as he can. “Cum for me. Now.”

You obey, screeching in pleasure as you release, your juices exploding all over him and yourself. He releases into you soon after, filling you up to the brim with his seed.

You both stare at each other, panting heavily as you try to catch your breath. After a couple minutes, he pulls out of you, and collapses onto the bed beside you, lazily draping an arm over your sweaty form.

Neither of you have the energy to clean up. You’re both spent. You loll your head to the side, peering over at the exhausted man beside you.

He stares back at you, the fury gone from his eyes. Now, he can only look in adoration as he reaches behind you and pulls his bow tie from your hands, allowing you to wrap your arms around him, hugging yourself against him.

“I hope I made up for the horrible day you had today, my love.” You murmur softly, resting your head on his chest.

Dice leans his head against yours, rubbing your back as he nods gently, tired eyes slipping shut.

“You have, my doll. I love you.”

Angry!King Dice x Reader NSFW Headcanons (SHOW)

Being a star is not as easy as people make it out to be. It’s not ALWAYS a life of luxury, contrary to popular belief. Even celebrities can have shitty work days, and boy, King Dice has certainly had his fair share.

When your boss is the Devil, it’s not uncommon to have very high expectations placed upon you. Especially if you’re his number one.

Even so, King Dice rarely gets angry. Irritated, upset, sure. But it takes a lot to make the show host angry, and when that line gets crossed, EVERYONE will know it.

Being his lover, it’s your job to help him wind down, because the methods you use to calm him are… reserved for the bedroom.

You look up from your papers as you see the familiar elevator rise up from out of the ground, Dice storming out of the machine and slamming the bars shut behind him.

Putting your paperwork in your bag, you offer your hand to him, and he quickly grabs it, practically dragging you out of the building and into the waiting limo.

The ride to his home is silent. The walk through the lobby is silent. The elevator ride is silent, save for the soft music that plays as you both glide up each floor.

Once you both are back in his suite, Dice finally speaks.

“Your clothes better be off in the next 30 seconds, or there will be severe consequences.”

You know better than to refuse. Within 15 seconds, you are completely naked, laying on your stomach, waiting patiently for his next move.

Meanwhile, Dice is shucking off his waistcoat, and unzipping his fly. He wastes no time pulling out his cock from his boxers. He’s rock hard as he crawls onto the bed, towering over you.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to move for the next three days.” He growls, pinning you onto the bed with his hands as he slides into you, using your precum along with his own as lube.

You groan loudly, slight pain turning into immense pleasure as Dice gets to work. Keeping you pinned down, he jams his hips into your ass, slipping completely in and out of you with each thrust.

“FUCK, doll, you’re so tight. Does my dick make you feel good, you naughty bitch? Hm? Do you get off on me ramming into you like this?” he sneers through gritted as he fucks you, one of his hands moving up to your hair and pulling roughly at it.

You screech in surprise and pleasure, groaning loudly as he tugs your hair. “Ohhh, Dice!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt a harsh smack on your ass as Dice pulls your hair again, this time leaning back in from behind you and hissing in your ear:

“Call me ‘Dice’ again, and I will make you regret it. Do you understand me? I am your King, and you belong to me. Don’t test me.”

Realizing your mistake, you quickly nod, oddly getting more aroused at his dirty talk along with the sting of getting spanked. It’s enough to get you close.

Knowing this, Dice smacks your ass again as he continues pounding into you, murmuring dangerously “Don’t you cum without permission, either. I see one drop come out of you and I swear to Satan you will NOT like the consequences.”

You moan loudly back at him in confirmation as you move with his thrusts, gripping the sheets tightly, biting your lip as he moves faster and harder. The iron taste in your mouth lets you know that you might have bitten too hard, but you don’t care.

Dice growls in pleasure as he bites down into your shoulder, fucking you as hard as he can, chasing after his own climax.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer and you scream loudly in pleasure “FUCK, my King! I don’t think I can hold-”

Another smack is delivered to your ass. “DON’T YOU DARE.” Dice bellows above you as he pins your head down by the back of your neck. “You wanna cum, you dirty whore? You BEG for it!”

“KING!!” You moan back at him, crying as loud as your voice will let you. “King, PLEASE! PLEASE let me cum! I’ll make it worth your trouble! I BEG, please let me!”

“Speak up. I can’t hear you.” Dice says mockingly as he purposely thrusts into where you get the most pleasure. “SCREAM for me.”

“OHHHH, FUCK!!” You scream, tears of pleasure streaming down your face. “MY KING, PLEASE! PLEASE LET ME CUM!”

Dice smirks and nods, letting go of the back of your neck to pull your hair again. “Cum. NOW.”

Your body obliges happily, your juices exploding from inside you, covering Dice’s dick as he finds his own climax. He releases inside you, completely stuffing you up with his semen.

He lets go of your hair, letting your head drop onto the pillows as you both breathe heavily, riding out your high together.

Once he comes down from his orgasm, he pulls out of you, and zips his pants back up, he grabs a few tissues from his nightstand and cleans you up, knowing that you can barely move to do it yourself. Once he’s sure you’re as clean as possible without a bath, he flops down next to you, sighing softly.

You pant heavily, still laying on your stomach. Shivering slightly, you whimper and whine for his touch, unable to reach for it yourself.

Dice gently rolls you onto your back, pulling you into him as he drapes the duvet over the both of you. The words he had earlier are suddenly gone, and silence hangs over the room.

After several minutes, your eyes glance up at him, and you see that he’s staring straight ahead, a contemplative look on his face as he reminisces about his day.

He sighs and looks back down at you, expression unreadable. You don’t say a word, waiting for him to be the first to speak.

“…I’m sorry I was so rough on you, doll. I’ll make it up to you.”

You shake your head tiredly, resting it on his collarbone. “Don’t... don’t worry about it… you had a horrible day today…”

Dice lets himself smile slightly for the first time that day, wrapping his arms around you. He rubs your back as you grow tired, slowly starting to drift off.

The last thing you hear from him before you lose consciousness is a murmur of adoration.

“You make every single hard day bearable, and I can’t thank you enough for that. Now, get some sleep. You’ve earned it, my love.”

#cuphead #cuphead dont deal with the devil #king dice #king dice cuphead #king dice headcanons #king dice x reader #smut #the cuphead show

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cherry-flavoured-thot · 1 year

Note

Hmmm, I'm not sure if this has been requested before so feel free to ignore this if it has. The brothers with a motherly and caring reader that always makes them breakfast, lunch bentos, and dinner, and is a master of textile work (sewing, knitting, etc.) but will beat up anyone who dares to test her patience.

Lucifer, who sometimes thinks coffee is an acceptable meal replacement, kinda needs someone like this in his life. At first he acted offended, all "don't coddle me. I am not a child. >:(" But quickly turned that frown upside down when he realised how much mc's kindness has benefitted everyone in the house. Including himself. He really appreciates no more arguments about cooking, and he also appreciates the only argument he hears about it these days is mc making sure he actually remembered to eat today. He always takes his packed bento box with him, the only member to never once forget his lunch at home.

“How fast do ya think you could knit another one?” Is Mammon’s first question upon mc handing him a sweater they knitted. And regardless of their answer, he’s asking because he wants to own another so he can constantly show off to his brother’s at what mc made for him. Mammon always cleans his plate from mc’s cooking, swears up and down it is the best cooking he’s ever eaten, to which mc claims that it’s because they make it with love. He’s asking for seconds. Sometimes forgets his bento on purpose because mc always comes and offers to share theirs with him, meaning they get to have lunch together. mc has caught on and now packs extra in their own lunch.

Leviathan, who already knows sewing tricks thanks to enjoying cosplay, learns a few other things from mc. When a fabric just isn’t cooperating, he’s calling them in for back up, and normally between the two of them, they manage to pull through. When mc offers to make him a bento box for lunch, presents them with his Ruri-chan bento box while on his knees. Yeah he doesn’t always go into RAD but he still needs a healthy nutritious lunch too, is what mc tells Lucifer, who shakes his head while watching mc shape Levi’s sandwiches into cute faces similar to his favourite anime characters.

Satan proudly owns a knitted set by mc, that all have the matching themes of, you guessed it, cats! On cold winter days off he can be seen walking around with his cat beanie, gloves, sweater and socks. He also has a plain green set but he clearly likes his cat set more. I can also see him asking for mc to teach him how to knit so he can eventually knit them a set. But he’s probably terrible at it at first and nearly ends up throwing the knitting needles through the wall due to not understanding how mc can just make it look so effortless.

“I can patch that up for you!” Is how Asmodeus finds out about mc’s sewing talents, especially their efficiency under pressure. He needed his outfit ready by 8 and they had fixed ten minutes before. He’s very grateful for everything they do, not just fixing up outfits, but all the cooking too, he always loudly thanks mc for their delicious food before eating or when they give him a homemade bento. But he also worries that they might not be taking enough time to take care of themselves, so he offers pretty frequently for them to come do something with him to relax. Spa days, shopping trips, brunches, he’s happy to offer as long as they come with him.

Mc cooks for Beelzebub, and he’s ready to defend them in every scenario. No but in all seriousness, he is so grateful. He will eat any dish they put in front of him, he will always say it’s delicious and clean his plate, as well as everybody else’s, after he makes sure mc has eaten something of course. He will always accept their bento lunches, and will send them crying stickers if he forgets his. “Mc I forgot my bento, I’m sorry.” Apologies to them because he feels terrible that all their hard work cooking for him was for nothing, only to be pleasantly surprised when they do out of their way to bring him theirs. He takes them out for dinner as thanks. He also really loves the sweaters mc knits for him, says they feel comfy and wears them all the time.

Belphegor gets a handmade cow plushie made by mc for his birthday, to which he laughs dryly at. But for some reason, every now and then it makes it into his bed, along side his favourite pillow. Swears up and down he must’ve just accidentally thrown it into his bed. That it’s a strange coincidence he’s ended up hugging it. Not that he treasures a silly little plushie mc made for him as a joke. Yes he forgets his bento, yes sometimes he doesn’t even wake up in time for lunch and it stays in the fridge the whole day. But he is furious if anyone else even touches the bento mc made for him. Not even Beel is safe.

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bugslaststraw · 1 year

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I original assumed, because the TF2 comics are so fuckin weird, that the hell and heaven stuff was all real, and while that version of events is certainly funny I think I prefer the reality where it isn't simply because it makes an ounce more sense and leads to some interesting ideas.

I have not spell checked any of what you're about to read. I did not leave it in my drafts for 24h to contemplate on wether it should see the light of day. Just take it.

(In a reality where all those scenes in hell, heaven, weird desert purgatory etc are canon and actually happened, the TF2 mercenaries exist in a world where reality is self aware and also falling over itself to convenience them at every turn, which, yes, the world of TF2 tends to do that a lot. Anything that goes wrong is instantly deus-ex machina'd with such force that by issue 6 it's started to get sort of funny. Whenever this doesn't happen it's for dramatic effect and usually doesn't last either. It's certainly deliberate and part of the charm, but they are the main characters and they are going to exploit that reality. Anyway, in the OTHER case,)

Assume from now on that all those scenes are not in fact actually happening.

When Sniper is shot, his afterlife sequence is pretty short and is said to take place in "God's secret base" which is... A very Sniper way of putting it. Through that dream, he gets some kinda closure on his parents and seems to make up his mind: they were his real family after all, not those other shitheads. The scene also suggests that Sniper assumes he will go to heaven, possibly because of that very strict work ethic he holds up. When he wakes up, he believes what he saw was real, (which I don't blame him for, mostly because of Merasmus,) but I do wonder if his parents really talked like that when they were alive. You know. With the excessive swearing. The thing that might poke holes in this reasoning is the fact that he was out for six (twelve?) hours, but then again... Medic.

When Miss Pauling keels over, she ends up in the aforementioned weird creepy desert purgatory, in which she talks to the Admin about what her real plans are, which is a turning point in her story arc and the first time she truly doubted Admin's lead. Miss Pauling's character arc is probably the best example of Competent and Original Storytelling in the TF2 comics but it also strikes me that as it stands now, it really does not matter if it was real or not because the function of the scene was to let her change her mind and start doubting. However Admin revealed nothing new in that conversation, nothing that Pauling didn't know, other than "blood" so that checks out if it was all a dream as well.

Scout, then. Nobody actually checked Scout's pulse or anything when he supposedly died. The two other characters present are not the kind of people I imagine would even know how to do that so if he really didn't die but simply passed our due to, I dunno, an adrenaline rush wearing out or high blood pressure or something, Sniper and Spy have a good chance not to notice at all. Anyway his heaven bit was VERY self-serving in an incredibly Scout way, showing heaven and also God as being exactly the kind of things he enjoys, and also playing into his daddy issues with the whole "I wish you were my son" thing. The Tom Jones bit is in that case the part of Scout's subconscious that is well aware who is his actual father and that it sure as hell isn't Tom Jones. (That conversation he has w Heavy earlier proves he does in fact have such a thing.) Another part of him manages to shut down the thought/snap Tom Jones' neck a second time so that the rest of him doesn't realize and immediately strangle Spy upon waking up. As for how he lives... Idk maybe the literal radioactive fuel in his veins kicked his heart back into motion.

And finally, Mr Ludwig. Now, this is interesting because like I may be imagening this but like. Satan and Chevy don't look too dissimilar, and they both spend a bunch of time yelling at Medic and, while Medic must've felt pretty angry about getting his shit wrecked by Chevy earlier, his ego is massive and he is dramatic as hell and I can easily imagine him dreaming up that Chevy = Satan cus he hates his ass, just to immediately then dream that he outsmarts him and is super cool and sexy about it and also succeeded in a physically impossible surgical procedure because he's so cool and sexy, if that makes sense. We also know Medic naturally regenerates hp, so he could totally recover from a couple bullets given the time. The only thing blowing holes in that theory is the pen, but then again, how did he turn the pen into a detonator within like a maximum of ten seconds that's not possible. He might've had it beforehand but his memory got a little muddled from his brain going no-spark for a few seconds.

Finally, when Blutarch Mann describes the afterlife he says there is "nothing there" which is another. Interesting note. Anyway.

#tf2 #long post #meta post #im sos #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 miss pauling

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spiritedgoat · 2 years

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The Ashes in us

(Part 1)

Part2: https://spiritedgoat.tumblr.com/post/692747625824468992/the-ashes-in-us-part-2-part

Reader/Jason Kolchek

M/F

But there is descriptions of some things (ex. Tattoo,ect)

Warnings

Will get mature so be warned lol

graphic depictions of violence and swearing

Let me know if you all enjoy and want more!

_____________________

Never have you felt heat like this before even growing up in South Carolina for most of your life. The sun's rays hitting every inch of your exposed skin. Your army green shirt tucked into your fatigues, sweaty and uncomfortable. ''The Iraqi sun really shows no mercy'' you sighed to yourself picking up the canteen from your pack. Physical exercise really was hell in the middle of the day especially since summer was in full swing, yet you still considered it to be better than stuck inside behind a desk.

"Fuck, they're really seeing if they can kill us before the Iraqis do, huh" one of the men panted, standing a few feet away desperately trying to cool himself off. You smiled softly ,shaking your head. Yeah it fucking sucked and it felt like your were playing pushups on Satan's grill but overall it did help with the acclamation process ,helping plenty on the missions in the middle of absolute nowhere ,looking for weapons of mass destruction (WMD). Even though most of those missions ended in coming back empty handed.

"You done, Jack?" Nick asked leaning against the structure looking down at you in your crouched position. The voice grabbed you back from your thoughts at the sound of your nickname. You looked up at the man squinting at the sharp sunlight. "LT is looking for you, thought I'd come get ya since I'm on my way to Rachel"

You sighed, grabbing your things to follow the man into the building. Nick and Jason were probably some of the closest friends you've made including Joey, they truly became like family to you even if you might or might not have eyes for the lieutenant though you'd never act on it.

"How gentlemanly of you" you joked swinging the backpack over your shoulder. "Have you ever known me to be anything else?" Nick followed the act even fake bowing, laughing at your sarcasm. It was definitely a second language you were very much fluent in. "What's it about anyway?" you asked , casually watching Nick as you walked together through the corridor.

"I think it might be regarding the new C.O landing today" Nick shrugged. "Ah fuck" you sighed

"Judging by the reaction, guessing you forgot? The Iraq sun already fry your brain? " Nick teased, You shot him a glare, playfully slapping his shoulder with the back of your hand. "I didn't forget....okay maybe I did, shut up"

"Thank you Nicky! for saving my ass from Jason giving me an earful" he dramatically proclaimed, laughing at the scowl on your face. "Say hi to your boyfriend for me" Nick teased with a wink, knowing exactly what he was doing. He was probably one of the only ones who knew your dirty little secret. Though you'd never admit it to him, you couldn't lie either when he started connecting the dots that you liked Jason.

"Yeah yeah, whatever" You laughed shooing Nick away at the door where you part ways .You watched a moment longer as Nick continued up the hall towards the Quee...I mean Rachel's office. You had your suspicions about whatever the hell was going on there. If Nick was really fooling around with the Queen Bitch ,as she was fondly know as, was way past you. You didn't really care too much but you'd lie if you said it didn't prick your curiosity a little.

Upon entering the room you were met by a pair of eyes sitting behind a desk, "Ah Joey, they got you doing paperwork now?" you laughed walking closer to inspect the documents he was working on.

"Just say if I need to make a few calls there, buddy" a familiar voice sounded, entering the room. The man in question walked over to you, a smirk hanging on his lips.

"Nah, as far as I know, you catch less bullets from behind a desk" Joey said looking up smiling at his lieutenant. You just shook your head and smiled turning to Jason.

"Miss Jackowski, I want you to finish your reports and meet me outside at the east hall in two hours." Jason spoke, his southern accent thick. Something that made you a little tingly inside. "Yes sir" You answered, gathering the needed paperwork. "When is the new C.O coming in?" you asked turning to look at Jason who was leaned against a desk. "He's supposed to be in, in 3hours but said he might be running a bit early" Jason answered glancing at you.

-------------------------------

Finishing the last report you packed everything up, slipping out of the room with 15 minutes to spare before having to meet up with Jason. You stepped outside dodging marines entering the tight halls and leaned yourself against the outer wall to the side of the building, a little place you frequented on your breaks. It was a welcome bit of fresh air. Pulling out your pack of cigarettes you stuck one in your mouth. Lighting the end you pulled in a slow breath.

"You know that will kill you" a voice said to the side of you making you jump from your spot.

"Fucking hell" you mumbled under your breath ,looking up at Jason who was watching you with a cocked brown brow, a small smile on his face.

You only smoked on occasion, especially if stress was high. A not necessarily good habit you picked up even before your deployment days. It helped you wind down sometimes, to just take a break.

"Now I won't lie but I think there's worse things that'll kill me out here, sir" you smiled looking at Jason's amused face. He just nodded, dimples just creeping into sight before slumping against the wall next to you.

You looked over to your side exhaling the smoke away from him.

He held out his hand to you expectantly, you raised an eyebrow and slowly pulled the cigarette from your lips, handing it to him.

He took the cigarette and put it to his own lips taking a deep puff before slowly exhaling. You just watched him quietly in the comfortable silence.

It was weird, the first time you've seen Jason smoke but it clearly wasn't his first by the looks of it. You turned back, quietly staring into the distance. You know there must be a lot on his mind, especially after the checkpoint incident that happened. You knew Jason took it a lot harder than he'd ever admit maybe even harder than Nick since it was on his call. He was a hard and intolerant man but you knew he had a soft and caring heart under the whole 'macho' confident front he always tried to put up.

You knew that feeling well since you'd be a hypocrite if you said you didn't. The feeling of...not feeling to protect yourself from being hurt. You yourself were good at putting up that ruse using humor or sarcasm but inside you always had your walls up, guarded and secured since your childhood.

You were practically bred into the military. Your father, a good colonel to his men but a damn bad father. Especially after your mother passed away, the bottle took a tight grip on him and made him mean...

"We should go in five" Jason finally spoke breaking the silence that befell you, looking over to you taking a last drag of the cigarette.

He longingly glanced at you, the calm but unreadable expression on your face as you stared ahead, he could see the cogs turning in your head only wondering what was going through your mind.

For some reason he was always drawn to you like a cowboy to a horse. Maybe it was that he found some misplaced sense of comfort and peace from you or the way you always seemed to make him smile, those stupid jokes you tell or the way your body's curves complimented each other, the way he didn't have to act around you. But one thing he knew for sure was that you were a damn good marine, best of the best if he had to say it. He wouldn't have anyone else to guard his back.

At first he underestimated you since you weren't too mouthy about your skills and kept to yourself, till he saw you in combat, saving his ass from an IED. Since then his respect for you only grew more and maybe his feelings for you too.

A piece of your tattoo peeking out from your shirt at the base of your neck caught his eye. He always wondered what the tattoo was, never getting to see the full piece since it was hidden away on your back.

You met his eyes briefly and nodded your head in understanding at his words, relaxing back against the wall enjoying the soft breeze against your skin.

#jason kolchek x reader #house of ashes #salim othman #eric king #rachel king #nick kay #clarice stokes #nathan merwin #joey gomez #smut #fluff #angst #trauma lol #wrap it before you tap it

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onlyonewoman · 1 year

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I often listen to reddit stories on youtube after work to wind down and relax - I especially love Mark Narrations! - but oh my dear satan, if I hear another “get divorced!!!” advice over a misunderstanding, a stupidity the person is remorseful of, a partner being attracted to someone else but not doing anything, I swear I will start drooling over medival marital contracts, To all the young people out there, thinking a relationship is black and white and that mistakes are unforgivable, let this old ass woman tell you: - Unless you are a person lacking sexual desires for other people entirely, you WILL feel attracted to at least one person that isn’t part of your relationship through life. That’s just how it is and it doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’s all about “old vs. new” and nothing to throw your relationship away for. It will happen every now and again and the Earth wont stop spinning. - For the love of Loki the trickster: STOP CALLING EVERYTHING YOU DISLIKE TOXIC. Holy Midgard snake, that word just needs to be fucking rationed because the second you use that word, it’s basically declaring a person as someone that is ingrained with something infected that will spread. That’s not how things work and you have to stop thinking the worst of every little thought, word and action from others. As much as we would want people to be logical and their thoughts and wants follow a clear line, that’s NOT HOW HUMANS FUNCTION. I’m autistic and I struggled for years with that shit - still do sometimes - but calling people toxic or abusive or manipulative over simple half-shitty mistakes, poor attitude, lack of knowledge, a bad day etc, isn’t helping anyone. And while I absolutely appreciate and applaud how we are so much better at telling each other we don’t have to put up with a relationship that doesn’t work for us, I also want to tell this: Relationships can suck at times and the world will not fall apart. No one should feel obliged to stay in a relationship they don’t want to be in, but as a person in a longterm relationship of almost 18 years, let me tell you: If you are finished growing, learning and developing you don’t make a good partner - or a good friend. You WILL make mistakes, honest ones, and sometimes you will be petty and selfish, other times you will feel frustrated, unseen, undervalued and unheard - and so will your partner. Unless - unless! - we are talking about abuse or falling out of love or just way too different ideas of what the relationship should be like - the relationship isn’t fucking toxic and it just screams “hey, I’m young and know how it’s supposed to be and still a bit too black and white in my thinking” - which is okay! But while I absolutely think it’s vital for people to talk and engage over the generational gaps about things, I feel like I’m aging with 30 years everytime I hear someone declare with youthful certainty, that you should leave your partner immediately because this or that is toxic and abusive”. Loveys, that’s not how relationships work and you can’t define a relationship as a whole from an “am I the ahole” post. We are human beings and as gross as it might be: we all have shitty sides and dirty little secrets, unhealthy thoughts, evil impulses and screwed up ideas of relationships. And we wont grow, learn, develop or love if we’re bullied for not being pure and good and wholesome enough. I also hope you will find your parents’ or grandparents’ porn and BDSM toy collections when they pass, along with a life subscription of an old porn magazine and a whole ass basement filled with “toxic” stuff for you to hopefully enjoy instead of burn. We didn’t move through the fucking trenches during the 90′s - and all the way fucking back - for the most individualistic generation ever to lock themselves back in a conformity closet in fear of being toxic. So, how about you enjoy what you enjoy and leave others be? I promise, the relief of letting go of others’ restrictive opinions on what’s acceptable to like, is better than any Earth shattering orgasm. It will also stop you from running to reddit everytime your partner has the audacity to be human. Also, from the now starting to get wrinkles and aching joints generation of the 80′s: you’re annoying as hell and we remember being it too, meaning we both want to sooth and kick the shit out of you. In case you didn’t understand: Yes, you’re the assholes - and so are we. Live with it.

#reddit #relationship advice #stop call everything toxic

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always-andromeda · 1 year

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I posted 2,422 times in 2022

That's 2,421 more posts than 2021!

1,070 posts created (44%)

1,352 posts reblogged (56%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@riddlersbimbo

@lost-in-sokovia

@trelaney

@sweetums0kitty

@quietsounds

I tagged 1,514 of my posts in 2022

Only 37% of my posts had no tags

#askmeda✨ - 476 posts

#medarants✨ - 282 posts

#anon ask✨ - 280 posts

#danonation - 150 posts

#paul dano - 144 posts

#danocel - 118 posts

#strange trails milestone✨ - 111 posts

#soph 🧸 - 111 posts

#bowie 💕 - 96 posts

#meda’s fic recs✨ - 81 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#the second we throw out nuance in favor of simplifying everything to the lowest common denominator we lose the chance at actual growth

My Top Posts in 2022:

i. Maneater

Eddie Munson x Henderson Sister!reader

Word Count | 2,020

Summary | You have a bit of a reputation for...getting around. But you pretend to be a sweetheart oh so well. Luckily, Eddie "The Freak" Munson knows how to see right through the rumors.

Author's Note | just a casual little three parter! also, I apologize in advance if this one is a little out of character for him. I kind of struggled to get his vibe accurate. also omg I'm in love with the cover. this picture of him has me frothing at the mouth just a tad. his gaze is so soft. and. his arms. I am in love again. I most likely will make a sequel for this little trilogy because I have IDEAS.

Warnings | mentions of promiscuity, mentions of drug usage, nothing else I can think of!

Parts |

Maneater

i. | ii. | iii.

Head Over Heels

i. | ii. | iii.

Your brother was a fanatic at this point. He talked about Dungeons and Dragons almost all the time. In the car on the drive to school, during school, at the dinner table, and any other conversation he could slip the game into. You wouldn’t be surprised if his dreams were filled with it either. Neither you or your mom really bought into the conspiracy that it was indoctrinating kids into a satanic cult, but you both agreed that the obsession Dustin had slowly been cultivating throughout his childhood was reaching a fever pitch, especially when he joined the high school's D & D club.

There was one other thing that Dustin talked about a lot too, and that was the Hellfire Club’s Dungeon Master, Eddie Munson. Being a teenage boy with no father figure in his life, Dustin latched on to almost any older male in his life. And he got protective of them very quickly.

For example, when Steve came around, Dustin made you swear up and down that you weren’t going to fall madly in love with him. That had been an easy promise to make. Steve Harrington wasn’t exactly your type. Yeah, he was cute and had been a basketball player, but he lacked the grit that you really looked for in guys. Besides, you hadn’t forgotten how he’d bullied a bunch of your friends during sophomore year. Steve was too conventional, you decided. Too much like the kind of guy your mother would adore if you took him home.

And as much as you loved your mother, you did enough with your life to make her proud. So what if you went to the occasional party on the weekend? So what if you snuck a few guys into your room? As long as you made it home before your 11 pm curfew and kept your grades high, you were just fine. Your mother didn’t have to know about any of your exploits outside of school.

Except Dustin knew. A little. He couldn’t be stopped from pushing his nose into your affairs on a good day but when he walked into your bedroom as Connor Fielding was putting his shirt back on after a particularly eventful night, Dustin swore he’d keep his mouth shut about all of it if you did one thing. That one thing was driving him to every place his social life required him to be at. Thus began your thankless career as Dustin’s chauffeur.

Though you’d driven Dustin to D & D meets about a dozen times before and went to the same high school as him, you’d never met this Eddie Munson. All of your classes were in advanced placement so you’d certainly never been in a classroom with him. You hadn’t even had a chance encounter during his infamous rants in the cafeteria where he teased the jocks and cheerleaders. The way your classmates talked about him with such disdain combined with Dustin’s idolatry of him fueled this legendary status. The man might as well be a god, as far as Dustin had convinced you.

So when you saw the leather and denim clad, curly haired, dark eyed guy with chains and jewelry dripping from almost every part of his look, you didn’t think twice. In fact, you wouldn’t have thought about him again if he hadn’t spotted you in your car and sauntered over as Dustin ran to get into the backseat. And nothing, absolutely nothing, could’ve prepared you for seeing him up close.

“Well, hello there.” He purred with a lazy smirk. He had a bit of a six o' clock shadow forming along his jaw, telling you that he couldn't possibly be a high school student. Yet, he wore the same baseball style tee that members of the Hellfire Club wore. Whoever this guy was, you didn't care exactly.

“Hi,” you muttered, returning a tight lipped smile. You were just waiting for Dustin to buckle his seatbelt when the guy brought his fists up to rest under his cheeks, elbows planted firmly on your door.

“Uh…do I know you?” Your brow quirked up at him.

“I was wondering the same thing.” His eyes went wild, his expression almost theatrical in nature.

“I’m Dustin’s older sister.” You shook your head slowly, hoping the interaction would soon be over. Through your rear view mirror you could just start to see Dustin’s face contort into a horrified frown.

The guy gave Dustin a brief but knowing look before replying, “Ah, makes sense. I’m-”

“Eddie Munson! He’s Eddie Munson, the Dungeon Master, and he’s totally off limits!” Your brother screeched from the backseat.

“What’s that all about?” Eddie chuckled awkwardly.

You lowered your voice, scrunching your nose, “Nothing, he just gets fussy when he hasn’t had a snack in a couple of hours.” The little comment earned a snort from Eddie and he dipped his head, covering his face with his hair, so Dustin wouldn’t see him laugh

His gaze peeked out from behind his dark locks, “So what’s a girl like you doing toting her brother around all day?”

You sighed, already exasperated at his antics. Based on the stories, you’d expected Eddie Munson would be…well…a freak. But at that moment he looked just like any other guy trying to philander his way into your life.

“Well, I’m afraid that’s none of your business.” You said sweetly.

See the full post

537 notes - Posted June 5, 2022

@ all the children on tiktok that were saying “they won’t kill eddie!!! they just introduced him!!!”

(don’t worry I was in denial too)

552 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

iii. Maneater

Eddie Munson x Henderson Sister!reader

Word Count | 4,111

Summary | You have a bit of a reputation for...getting around. But you pretend to be a sweetheart oh so well. Luckily, Eddie "The Freak" Munson knows how to see right through the rumors.

Author's Note | this one...has me feeling some kind of way. I wasn't planning to include smut in this one but like...once I got going I could not stop my disgusting little hands from typing these words.

Warnings | smut, thigh riding, mentions of masturbation, mentions of drugs, bits of fluff, nothing else I can think of!

Parts |

Maneater

i. | ii. | iii.

Head Over Heels

i. | ii. | iii.

“You better not be taking me out here so you can murder me.” You shot Eddie a suspicious look as he parked in front of the lake. He scoffed, taking his keys out of the ignition and twirling the key ring around his index finger before giving you that maddening look you were quickly becoming acquainted with.

“I’m taking you out here because it’s romantic.” The corner of his lips curled up into a little smirk.

“Mmm, very believable.” You opened the passenger side door, shoes landing firmly on the damp grass. You didn't like being out this late. Especially out in the middle of nowhere. As boring as Hawkins was, the darkness of the forest brought a kind of eeriness that left you on edge. You clung to the fondness your brother had for Eddie as proof that you could trust him too.

Eddie shut his door, resting his arms on the window opening like he had done on your car only days before. Even with his face obstructed by the night and his hair sweeping down his forehead, you could see the light in his eyes from where you stood on the other side of the van. How they were filled with a flicker.

Eddie was already over the moon that you’d gone with him. He half expected you to bail out on him. He kept checking his wristwatch every few minutes, preparing to drive himself back to the trailer park and tucking in to smoke some of his good stuff. But when you rounded the corner, he had to try hard to contain the joy he felt.

He shook his head, “It’s true. I can have my moments. Besides, you're gonna try and tell me that you haven't been out here once?"

You turned, back against the side of the van, looking up at the stars. You didn't want him to see the flush on your face when you answered, "I haven't, actually." It was a little embarrassing that the first proper date you were going on was with Eddie. You’d come to terms with how attractive he was but he wasn’t right for you. Just like Steve wasn’t enough, Eddie was too much. He was proving it with his incessant wisecracking and sharp tongue.

"But you're the...what word did you use again?"

You didn't want to say it again, lingering at the edge of the van, the mushy ground beneath you suddenly becoming very interesting. "Maneater?" You cringed.

Eddie popped around your side of the van, making you jump slightly. "The Maneater! I thought some sap had to have brought you here sometime."

"I don't really go on dates exactly." Shaking your head and scrunching your nose at the idea, Eddie had to admit he was a little confused. He'd yet to piece you together. In his head, most of the preps were the same. When he heard people gossip about what drunken thing you'd done at a party, he concluded that you were just another boring suburban girl trying to distract yourself through little acts of degeneracy and voyeurism. That must have meant you were going on dates every weekend, right? But the way Dustin and his friends talked about you...their tales were so far removed from the rumors. And you were acting almost timid about the whole thing.

"You can't expect me to believe that."

You became indignant, “Listen, I can count on one hand how many guys I’ve actually taken home.”

“And how many have you kissed?” Eddie bit down on the cold metal ring wrapped around his index finger as if he had any actual shame asking you the question. Truthfully, he was dying to know where the real you began.

The indifferent front cracked when you let out an audacious smirk of your own. “I’d need a lot more hands for that one.”

He brushed the statement off. In the hours between asking you out and now, he had cleaned up the back of his van like never before. Hell, he drug out his Uncle’s old Hoover so he could attempt to vacuum the back. Old beer cans and pizza boxes were discarded as he made room to lay down some old fleece blankets that he and his uncle kept stashed for winters. In the same closet they were kept in, he found an old string of Christmas lights from a season that had long since passed. They were old but battery operated, thank god. He wanted the mood of the night to be perfect.

When he flung open the vans back doors, he quickly flicked the switch on the battery pack, the lights were weak and flickered every few seconds. They shed the whole backseat in a delicate yellow light. Eddie had obviously sprayed some sort of flowery scent. But underneath it…yeah…that was weed. He’d even thrown some lumpy pillows in for good measure. The patterned tapestries he’d pinned up along the sides reminded you of when you'd make blanket forts when you were little. The sight left you somewhat speechless.

"Oh my god..." You breathed. Eddie sat on the edge of the van, patting the spot next to him, urging you could join him. Quickly, you followed his direction, shifting until your thigh was just barely touching his. This close proximity became all too real when he bumped your shoulder with his own.

“So, would I be part of your…collection now?” The wash of sadness that passed over his face made your blood run cold.

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656 notes - Posted June 5, 2022

I'm Not Looking at Your Junk | Timothy Klitz x fem!Reader

Timothy Klitz x fem!Reader

Word Count | 6,206

Summary | Despite being an infamous prude, Timothy Klitz wasn't expecting it when you said you hadn't watched the sex ed tape he and his friends made during senior year. Little does he know, however, college has given you a chance to become a bit more experienced.

Author's Note | The way I love and hate this so much is ridiculous. I had to get this idea out of my head because it was just clawing at the inside of my skull!! Also, I called him Tim the entire time because I definitely would've been hella uncomfy in high school calling him Klitz all the time if this was an irl man??? I hope I did my man Klitzy justice because I love him so much. I am so nervous about posting this but fuck it!!!

Warnings | smut, (protected!) sex, loss of virginity, fingering, mentions of masturbation, mdni, please let me know if I need to add anything else!

You sighed as you flopped down on Timothy Klitz's couch. The cushions had flattened so much that you were only raised inches from the ground. Even though he was going to Yale, Tim and his two other roommates were set on spending the least amount of money possible to furnish the place. So when one of the guys found the couch free for the taking on the side of the road, of course he picked it up and had it hauled up the apartment stairs.

Tim didn't even know the guys that well. They were nice enough but obviously weren't his type of people. He was sure they'd drop out before the end of the year. But the two brothers were holding their own. Sent there with daddy's money, they'd refused to stay in the dorms where the campus security could bust them for underage drinking and the litany of drugs they were using. When Tim had found out that there weren't any dorm spaces left, he outsourced. The brothers wanted a third person to get in on the rent so they could spend more on supplies for their weekly parties. And with the meager pay Tim was making at his internship, their range met his budget.

On the bright side, their absences made it possible for you to visit more often.

You had your own dorm room but both of your roommates had boyfriends. Most nights you were stuck in your room listening to the sounds of intense lovemaking on the other side of one or two of your walls. That being said, Tim's sparsely decorated apartment with cracks in the drywall was clearly the better option to hang out in.

Tim wasn't complaining about it either. He'd known you since freshman year of high school and considered you one of his closest friends. Having Eli and Matt at his side made it a bit difficult to spend alone time with you. Any time Tim would tell Eli that he had to get off the phone because you were on your way over to his house, Eli would be wailing at the other end: Klitz, you better bang her. Or else I really might kill myself this time. In Eli's eyes, Tim was wasting a situation that was just dripping with erotic potential. She adores you, man. You could slap her ass in the middle of class and she'd thank you! Eli was so sure of himself.

Tim would never do that though. Sure, he liked you, but he couldn't imagine you seeing him in any similar way. You weren’t really the type to just hook up with some guy like it was nothing, especially if some guy was your nerd of a best friend. So just like every other weekend before, he shoved the video tape into the VCR and settled on the uncomfortable couch alongside you.

He'd found some horror flick at Blockbuster a few days before that he thought you’d get a kick out of. As terrible as the effects were in movies like this, the sight of even fake blood freaked him out. You made enough jokes to compensate for the moments where he got too queasy, but this one might be the death of him.

The dramatic title card flew towards the screen: Return of the Bloody Boogeyman!

Your face lit up at the text, already excited for what the night would bring. "You gonna tap out on me for this one?" you spoke teasingly.

He shook his head, brown hair flipping with the action, "You know, I am insulted you'd think I'm that much of a chicken." You laughed with a nefarious anticipation. You couldn't wait for when he would break and start gagging at the low budget visuals.

Of course it started with a completely clothed sex scene. Two teenagers packed into the back of a Cadillac convertible, gasping and moaning exaggeratedly. The black and white filter made it difficult to scrutinize what was going on in the darkly lit scene but the point was made very clear.

"God, it must have sucked having sex back then." you mused.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's not like people were casually hooking up all the time. You had to wait until you were married to some guy and even then, they'd probably be super disappointing in bed. But by the time you figured that out, you're locked in." You were talking with your hands now.

Tim wasn’t really used to talking about the topic of sex with you. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond. "Yeah, that probably sucked." Agreeing would probably be his best bet, he decided.

"Now, we have whole instruction manuals to show us the way." You poked at his side. You occasionally teased him about the sex ed tape he and his friends had made on prom night. Though you'd been there that night, watching doors with Tim while Eli and his actors were filming, you had tried not to get too involved with the actual crew. The whole prospect was way too awkward.

It's kind of weird, isn't it? You had said to Tim as you two stood outside a classroom door, guarding it. Your voice was hushed with a tinge of anxiety behind it.

What's weird? He said vaguely.

I dunno, it's weird that right behind us are two pornstars just...hanging out in our English class... Tim had let out a stifled snicker. You all would've done anything to help Matt and Danielle out. But that didn't mean it wasn't super uncomfortable.

"Oh yeah, like that taught you some actual techniques." Everyone knew how reserved you'd been in high school. No matter how informative the video was, you were set on being as prudish as possible.

"That tape didn't teach me jack shit." You spat.

Tim scrunched up his face and shrugged his shoulders, "I didn't think it was that bad. It wouldn't be selling so well if it was complete nonsense, right?"

"I wouldn't know how much of it is or isn't nonsense." You mumbled, finally having gotten to the end of your teasing. And Tim now got what you were hinting at.

He scoffed and looked at you with a cheeky grin, “You haven’t watched the video?”

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662 notes - Posted June 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Eating Out | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Word Count | 3,422

Summary | Eddie can't afford to take you out to dinner. Naturally, he decides to treat you to an enlightening night at Chez Eddie.

Author’s Note | remember that time I said I'd write a thing where Eddie rails you after making you dinner??? so yeah, about that, I slightly adjusted the idea to make a pun with the title...if y'all want a sequel, I am very up for it (I'm begging, please someone give me an excuse to write a sequel because if y'all want it I will do it, I know we're gonna need some fun content after the new episodes come out tomorrow lol)

Warnings | smut (MDNI), oral (male receiving), mentions of drugs, nothing else I can think of!!

Eddie Munson hates spending money on dates. He's not a cheapskate. It's just that he can't exactly spend money he doesn't have. Sure, he does odd jobs around the trailer park to make some cash on the side and gets paid in singles to play at that hole in the wall bar in Hawkins. But it's nowhere near the kind of money that would allow him to take you somewhere like Enzo's. Enzo's wouldn't be his speed anyways. If he walked into a joint like that, they'd tell him to march right back out of there after their eyeballs were done popping out of their sockets.

He loves you. God, he loves you immensely. But he'd rather pitch himself into the quarry than treat you to fine dining. That doesn’t matter anyways, he has a better idea in mind.

Eddie tells you to come to his trailer after school on Friday night. His uncle is working. You are already well acquainted with this routine. You come with minimal makeup (Eddie will end up making it run anyways) and a short skirt with panties he can easily pull aside. But when you’re knocking on the trailer door and he opens it, it’s not the Eddie you’re used to seeing.

He’s wearing a white t-shirt that’s a little too small on him, as if it’s been a few years since he’d first gotten it. The most shocking part is the bowtie sitting right above his collarbone. It's not real, of course, but drawn on. You can see the marker streaks that reveal how he attempted to spruce up the ill-fitting garment. Your mouth hangs open at the fabric stretching across his chest, accentuating the full shape of his torso and exposing his midriff. Somehow, it’s more suggestive than if he didn't have a shirt on.

“Good evening, mademoiselle. Are you ready for an extravagant night at Chez Eddie?” He asks with a wink and a smile that shows he knows exactly what he's doing with the ensemble. His jeans hang dangerously low as he sways his hips ever so slightly. He knows exactly what’s running through your mind as you drink up his delectable figure.

You cough and bring your gaze back to his eyes, “Excuse me?” You stare at him, brow raised. You’re used to his antics by now, but this was a new one.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Just come inside, you dork.”

Then you’re wandering in the dim trailer where Eddie has set up a fold up table in the middle of the tiny living room. Two fold up chairs are pushed in on either side of the table.

Eddie leads you to the chair that faces away from the kitchen and pulls it out, saying, “Sit. Dinner will be out shortly.”

He disappears behind you. You hear him moving things around in the kitchen and it finally sets in what he’s trying to do. You smile and look down at your hands. There’s even a little candle on the table! Wait…that’s-- that’s a stick of butter that Eddie stuck a rolled up toilet paper wick in on a plate. You’re taken aback but still smitten at the effort.

A few seconds later, Eddie comes around with two bowls, setting one down in front of you and the other on his side of the table.

“From our esteemed Chef Campbell we have…chicken noodle soup.” You hold back a giggle when you see the familiar watery soup of your childhood, little pieces of chicken and vegetables floating along the surface. Eddie has lived in the trailer park with his uncle long enough that he knows how to get by when it comes to food. He has a taste for junk food, knows how to mix things together to make something that’s just edible enough. Your tastes must be a little more refined, he figures.

So he had pulled out some of the dried herbs and spices from the kitchen cabinet that never got used. Fuck, they’re so old that the expiration date has long since passed. Eddie just shrugged. That just means the flavor has faded a little, right? He’ll just have to use a little extra.

Thyme? He’s got all the time in the world for it. Rosemary? Sounds nice. Oregano? Fuck yeah. Chef Campbell can make a mean soup, but Eddie is a wizard with seasonings.

When the spoon is in your mouth, you're hit with the flecks of flavor that don't quite make sense together. But Eddie looks at you with an anticipation that forces you to smile through the strange bite.

"It's good!" you chirp.

Eddie grins and holds his hands up, "What can I say? You've got a man who knows his way around a kitchen, princess."

No, I absolutely do not.

But you laugh and take another spoonful of the soup. If this will make him happy, then you can suffer through the assault on your taste buds.

The next course is grilled cheese, though it's quite obvious that Eddie had burned the bread while cooking it. That's the one Eddie gets nervous about. With money being so tight, it had been a while since he or his uncle went grocery shopping. He only had so many pieces of bread left. He tried to keep an eye on them as they cooked. But it was just his luck that in the few minutes he took to rifle through the fridge, looking for a drink option, the kitchen became engulfed in the bitter charred stench. Hoping you would notice, he sprayed some artificial floral air freshener and scraped the burnt bits of bread off the side he'd overcooked.

You actually didn't mind the grilled cheese too much. Sure, it wasn't the prettiest sandwich to look at, but it tasted alright. The plastic cheese was overpowered by the toasted bread that tore at the roof of your mouth. Your throat overwhelmingly dry, you drank from the glass of liquid that Eddie poured out for you. Apple juice. Thank god. You could drink apple juice all day if it got the rancid aftertaste of the soup out of your mouth.

About an hour had passed since you'd first arrived. The butter candle had long since burned out, leaving you mostly in the dark. The sun was quickly disappearing from the view of the living room window and you wonder when the dinner will be over and the real fun part of the night will arrive. Being around Eddie was always fun. But nothing beats the feeling of his hands running over your thighs and up your shirt. And as the night gets later, you clench your thighs more and more, impatiently waiting for some sort of relief.

"Now, we have our dessert!" Eddie walks back into view. “This one is extra special.”

In both his hands is a plate. A sad, lumpy cake placed on top. You can tell that he must've ran into some sort of problem during the baking process.

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1,026 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

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#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #lmao remember when i posted eddie munson fics #no you don’t 0-0 #medarants✨

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