#eddie brooke

[sapphire600]

If we ever get a King In Black (with Sony! Eddie & Venom in love, of course) adaptation. I hope we get a post credit scene with Eddie noticing all the other symboites not leaving and is like “Venom? Aren’t they supposed to leave or something?”

To which Venom respond “didn’t I told you?”

Now really confused, Eddie looks at Venom “told me what?”

And Venom said “Once you defeated Knull, you became the new King In Black”

Eddie stares at them, still not understanding. Venom sighed “you’re the God of the symboites, Eddie”

Eddie yells “WHAT THE FU-“

[maninja-illustrations]

The scene we all wanted but never got… Eddie and Peter having drinks in Mexico.

©️ Ma.Ninja Illustrations

Please add copyright if you reblog ❤️

[superfandomcorp]

Venom 3 ✌️

[harringtown]

wrap me up in all your—

still not over that obscure friends to lovers prompt list so I did number 30 w Eddie!!!!

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: everyone forgets Eddie’s birthday except the reader (aka a cupcake, a joint, a gift, and a confession or two)

word count: 1.5k

warnings: cursing and weed/smoking mention

-

The trailer park is quiet. The autumn chill has settled over town like a blanket, unearthing winter jackets and beanies from closets and marking every breath with a plume of white air.

Eddie sits beside you on his front porch, and though the light swinging overhead flickers every few seconds, and the wooden stairs are halfway to rotted, it’s his favorite place in the world.

Anywhere that has you in it is his favorite place in the world.

He’d like to blame that sappy sentiment on the joint you surprised him with an hour ago and have been passing back and forth, but if he’s honest, Eddie feels that way sober.

You make him feel and think all that sappy shit he was sure only existed in movies.

You showed up, with a dorky birthday hat and a joint sticking out of a cupcake, and Eddie instantly felt high.  And so, even though his day started at crappy and only got worse from there, it’s looking to have a decent ending.

As far as birthdays go, this certainly isn’t the worst. It’s almost better that everyone forgot. No last-minute, hasty gifts or the off-key singing of some waitress and his uncle.

It doesn’t even matter that everyone else forgot. Because you didn’t.

“I got you a present,” you say eventually, jabbing out the last burning embers of the roach and tossing the filter into the tiny pile at the bottom of the steps. Other filters from other nights smoking on this porch, the best of them with you.

“I thought we just smoked the present,” Eddie says.

You snort a laugh and bump Eddie’s shoulder with your own.

“No, that was the candle,” you say. “It would have been better if you rolled it. You’ve got magic hands.” You lift your arms and do jazz hands, making Eddie laugh, and then cough, which makes you laugh, too. Then you’re just two high idiots giggling on a crumbling porch, but Eddie is happier than he has been in a long time.

“Not everyone has the magic touch,” Eddie says. He raises his own hands, and doesn’t miss the way your gaze falls and lingers on each finger, each ring and crooked knuckle and calloused fingertip. Eddie drops his hands. “So. What’s this present you speak of? It better be damn good, after all you’ve hyped it up.”

“I did no hyping,” you accuse. You tear your gaze from Eddie’s and drop it to your lap, where you’re worrying the hem of your hoodie between your fingers. “And it probably isn’t that good—”

Eddie blames the weed on his sudden confidence. He takes your chin in one hand, forcing you to look at him, and he doesn’t realize how close you are on the porch until he almost smashes your nose with his own.

“Whatever it is, sweetheart,” he says, gentler than he intends, “I’m sure I’ll love it.” Your eyes dip, dip to his mouth, and now Eddie is looking at your lips, and he can’t stop.

He clears his throat and sits back. “You’ve never gone wrong before. Christmas ‘82?” He shrugs his shoulders and flashes you a lopsided grin. “Alright, yeah, you kind of screwed future you, there. How the hell do you follow thatup?”

You roll your eyes, but Eddie can tell you’re pleased. He’s known you so long that nonactions are actions, too.

“You and that damn guitar,” you say.

“What can I say? You did good, kid,” Eddie says. He bumps your shoulder again. “C’mon. Quit stalling. Let’s see it.”

You scrunch your nose. “Technically, there’s not really anything to see. I mean, I have a piece of paper, like a written agreement, but—”

“Earth to y/n,” Eddie says in a singsongy voice, though honestly, he’d be content to watch you talk about nothing for hours.

You nod a few times. Clear your throat. Don’t look at him as you say, “I kind of… booked you a gig.”

And Eddie’s dry mouth becomes the Sahara desert.

“You—what?”

“And I don’t know if I’d really call it a gig. More of an… audition? That fancy new club, The Tunnel, is looking for a local band to play Friday nights, and they want something different, so I played them one of your tapes. The manager liked it. He said if you do well at the show in a few weeks, you could be in there every friday night—”

“Are you serious?” Eddie asks.

You stop. Meet his eyes. “Of course I’m serious.”

“Holy shit.” Eddie pushes off the porch steps, onto the dirt below, and shakes his head. “Holy shit.” He wraps his arms around his torso and turns to you, shaking his head again. “Are you serious?”

You laugh, and say, “For the second time, yeah, I’m serious.” You swipe at your nose and sniffle. “Not that your usual joint isn’t great, but I figured, maybe you and the guys wanted to change it up a bit¸—”

And Eddie can’t hold back anymore. He rushes you, throwing his arms around your waist, knees digging into the step below you, burying his face in your neck.

You laugh again, and hug him back, and when you dip your face against his, your cool lips graze his temples. His stomach lurches, and his pulse sings, and yeah, he’s definitely high, but it’s most certainly not all from the weed.

All his reservations fall away. Fall apart. Never fucking existed at all, and he’s just been kiding himself.

Eddie pulls back to look at you.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” he says. “I love you.”

You let out a little laugh. “I love you, too, dude.”

He shakes his head. Peels himself away from you and drops onto the step beside you. “No. I mean, I love you. I’m in love with you. And I have been since we were sixteen. I was doing a pretty good job of not doing anything about it, trying to maintain the friendship and all that, but then you show up here, and you tell me you booked my band a gig—”

“Technically not a gig!”

“—a gig,” Eddie says. “And suddenly, I don’t give a shit about maintaining anything. So, thanks for that. And I love you. I really fucking love you. Sorry if that screws things up.”

For a long second, you just look at him, and Eddie thinks he could die right there on that porch—which is ironic, considering he kind of almost did, if the grass near this porch in a parallel universe counts.

“Do you have any idea,” you ask, “how long I’ve been waiting for you to admit that?”

Eddie jerks back. “What are you—you knew?”

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and look away, a sheepish smile on your face.

“I mean, of course I knew,” you say. “I’ve known you since we were ten. I know you. But time went on, and you still never said anything, and I wasn’t sure if I was wrong, or if you just had no goddamn clue how you felt, and then—“

“And how do you feel?” Eddie asks.

Your smile shifts. It shines like a thousand stars, brighter than anything in the night sky.

“I really fucking love you too,” you say. And then you kiss him, and you taste like frosting and weed and a thousand future kisses.

Eddie ends it sooner than he’d like—if he doesn’t, he’ll do something non-gentlemanly things on his porch, and he’s really trying to be a gentleman—and you drop your head onto his shoulder. You lace your fingers through his, fiddling with his rings with your free hand.

Sometime later, you lift your head, and say, “You never told me your wish.”

The cupcake with the joint. You instructed him to make a birthday wish on the first hit.

Eddie averts his gaze, swiping the hair from his eyes.

“My wish?” He shrugs. Meets your eyes. “You know the rules. Secret.” He draws his fingers across his lips and mimics throwing away a key.

You roll your eyes. “Humor me.”

Eddie inclines his head and considers a moment.

“You really want to know?”

“I want to know everything in that head,” you say, lifting two fingers to his temples.

Eddie knows he’s smiling like a dork, but he doesn’t care.

“It was you,” he says. “It’s always you.”

You press your lips together, but a smile tugs them up. You wind your arms around his neck and dip your forehead against him.

“Well,” you say softly. “You’ve got me. Time to find a new wish.”

“I’ll figure it out later,” he says. “Now, I just really want to kiss you again. You cool with that?”

You laugh, and say, “Yeah, I’m cool with that.”

Then you kiss him again.

And Eddie thinks this might be the best birthday he’s ever had.

-

taglist (join here!): @milkiane​ @robiin-buckley​ @copycatkillerfics​  @robinbuckleyssgf​ @isshecrazyorissheclever

[charlewiss]

800 podium finishes for ferrari <3

[renee-ckstrong]

I know these posts are kinda stupid but alas it is my turn.

If this post gets 100 notes, you have my word I will go to AEW All In 2024 dressed as Lulu Pencil.

Photo for reference:

Oh, and to go 'All In' with this idea. If this gets 500 notes I will, no word of a lie, get a Pencil Army tattoo. Why not? It probably won't happen.

[dawntainbobbynash]

Today, I saw who you are.

Happy Father’s Day!

[ghosttotheparty]

crybaby

this is the most unhinged thing i’ve written and it’s @thorniest-rose’s fault bc of this post (no this is not going on ao3 bc some of my irls know ab my ao3)

featuring: virgin!eddie; also bottom!eddie; eddie w an oral fixation; lots of crying bc eddie is pathetic (affectionate); unhinged horniness and then extremely soft tenderness

cw: brief mention of piss bc eddie is depraved; mention of drugs; f slur used once; obviously very nsfw minors go away you are not welcome here

~~~

eddie isn’t good at much, but the things he’s good at, he’s really good at. these things include things other people know about him. writing stories, drawing creatures, making up plot twists and snags and tangles during campaigns, playing complex riffs on his guitar, finding his place easily on stage in front of people. (not many people, but still. people.)

but he’s also good at things that nobody knows about, things that nobody should or will ever know about. specifically, he’s good at getting himself off.

he’s experienced, simply put. he knows his body. he knows what feels good, and what doesn’t, and he knows what he likes. he’s gotten practice. he’s also gotten… creative.

he’s been home alone often enough that he’s gotten to try things. things he’s read about in magazines, seen pictures of, things that he’s just randomly thought of and gotten curious about.

he likes being breathless, so he curiously wraps his fingers around his own neck and squeezes until he’s a little lightheaded and gasping. (he uses a belt to do it one day, and he’s reminded of the bite of the leather on his neck every time he wears the belt after that. so he leaves it in his closet for the times he’s feeling particularly depraved, because he can’t wear it out anymore.) he comes immediately when his hair gets caught on his rings and he accidentally pulls too hard, so that becomes a thing afterwards.

he shoves his face into his pillow to muffle his moans, and when he bites down on it he realises he likes having it in his mouth. (he’s always liked having things in his mouth, pencils and his hair and gum and his necklaces, so he supposes this makes sense.) so he starts biting his pillows and then the ends of his blankets and then his underwear, and then he sucks on his fingers and bites his arms when he tosses them over his face.

some nights it’s harder to come than others, and he tries everything. sticking a pillow between his legs and riding it, using too much lube to get four fingers inside himself as he groans into his mattress, pushing his knuckles against his taint and pressing a hand against his belly, fucking himself with the handle of his hairbrush until he saves enough money to get an actual toy.

it’s also fun sometimes when he’s high, his head full of clouds, every sensation somehow simultaneously heightened and muffled. (on one particularly desperate night, he gets too high and accidentally pisses himself as he’s coming, and if that awakens something inside him as he comes back down… well, that’s his business.)

he’s aware of how it would look if someone were to take a peek into his bedside table drawer and found the bottle of lube (and the empty one he just hasn’t gotten around to throwing away) next to the pills and weed. but nobody looks at his stuff.

sometimes he does it without even the intention of really getting off. it just feels nice. gives his brain something to focus on while he does other things, fondling his dick over his pants while he reads or does homework, putting a toy inside himself while he draws or works on a campaign.

there are nights that he sets aside just to get off. just to sit in bed with lube and a box of toys (some of which are just innocuous things, like the belt and the hairbrush, that are only used for this), to spend hours taking himself apart. (yes, hours. the only time he’s ever patient is when he stops himself just before tipping over the edge.) he always gets a little delirious after long nights, giggling breathlessly to himself as his come and sweat dries tacky on his skin, as he untangles his fingers and rings from his own hair.

he doesn’t have any experience with other people, to his own disappointment. he’s curious about if it would feel better for another man to pull his hair, if they would pull it harder, sharper, if their hands would feel better around his throat, if their dicks would feel better in his ass than Eddie’s fingers.

he manages by himself, though. (manages is a light term. he’s killing it, really.) a few times a week, when he gets to get away from the rest of the world for a while. it’s not gross, he doesn’t think. he’s a healthy amount of horny, in his own opinion.

until steve harrington.

steve turns his world upside down (pun intended), from the moment eddie pins him against the wall out of fear and steve makes those little gasping noises, and then it gets worse when he sees steve bite a fucking demon bat and rip it apart before spitting its blood onto the ground like it was nothing, all covered in sweat and blood and lake water. eddie has to focus on where exactly he is and the fact that the world might be ending to distract his dick.

(nancy notices him adjust his pants, and his face burns, but she just barks out a laugh that she disguises as a cough, thankfully.)

he’s distracted until everything is over, luckily, as it would be difficult to sneak off long enough to rub one out. (to king steve, of all people. jesus.)

when he’s released from the hospital, he goes home (home now meaning the apartment the government gave wayne in return for the trailer.), and he’s hard before the shower water is even warm. and steve is in his head. covered in sweat and blood, panting and grinning and hovering over eddie. eddie ends up pressing his face to the wall, his breathes and soft whines echoing off the tile, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s moaning steve’s name, but it doesn’t really matter. no one’s here to hear it.

and steve keeps doing this thing. which really isn't a thing at all. he's just... existing. but it's summertime, and he keeps wearing these shirts with cut-off sleeves, and these shorts that cling to his ass like saran wrap, and he keeps pushing his hair back in this way that's so casual it's clear he isn't aware that he looks like a fucking model. (his hair is also longer now than it was when they met. long enough that he sometimes borrows hair ties from the girls to keep it out of his face while he's cooking (which is a whole other story) and eddie has to physically turn away to tear his eyes away from his neck.)

obviously he doesn’t tell anyone that he’s hot for steve. because it doesn’t matter. steve’s hot. that’s that.

but the problem is that he’s falling for steve. beyond the way his neck looks when he looks up at the ceiling and the way his muscles shift when he lifts something heavy, eddie is falling for the rest of him. his kindness, his bravery, the way he acts with the kids and robin and nancy, the quips and bitchy faces he makes when he’s annoyed. the way he traces the scars around his neck absentmindedly. (the scars that match eddie’s.) and eddie doesn’t just want to lick his chest and feel his fingers in his hair anymore, but he also wants to just… hold his hand. kiss him good morning. borrow his sweaters to sleep in and let their hair tangle in a hairbrush.

which is a problem because they’re actual friends now, apart from the all the trauma bonding. they bond over other things. over dustin and the kids, over teasing robin and teasing each other, over hawkins. and most of the time, eddie forgets he’s hot for him until he’s horny, and then steve is all he can think about.

he discovers that steve is hot when he smokes. they’re in steve’s living room with robin and nancy and jonathan and argyle, passing a bong around, and the way steve’s eyes shine, framed by his dark princess eyelashes, and the way he blows smoke at the ceiling and grins lazily make eddie feel like his skin is twisting. so he excuses himself to the upstairs bathroom for a few minutes. he bites the hand towel hanging by the sink to keep himself quiet. (nancy gives him a knowing look and smile when he comes back and he just flips her off. she giggles, but no one questions it because they’re all high.)

it’s still not really a problem. he’s good at pretending steve doesn’t make him feel lightheaded just by looking at him.

steve might be eddie’s best friend. which is nice. but also…

steve is a tactile person. eddie notices it at the very beginning of their friendship, watching how steve drapes himself over robin as she’s watching movies or talking with someone, how steve tugs dustin closer just to hold the back of his neck or his shoulder, how he holds eleven’s hand whenever she reaches for his. and steve is the same with him, leaning against him on the sofa, setting his legs over eddie’s lap. he doesn’t question it when eddie starts to headbutt him, rubbing his head and face against steve’s shoulder or arm or back just because. he just smiles or laughs quietly when it’s particularly aggressive, which just makes eddie’s heart grow warmer.

steve gives eddie a key to his house when his parents move out. i know you have a place with wayne, but it’s just… i want you to know that you, like… have somewhere to go. if you need it. so eddie gets a key made for his apartment gives it to steve two weeks later. you too. steve tries to hide his watery eyes, but eddie doesn’t let him. he just pulls him into a hug.

it doesn’t occur to him that it wasn’t entirely a great idea until he’s facedown in bed, crying and fucking himself with a toy, and the front door opens.

“eddie?”

eddie can’t even move, his vision blurred as his door opens and steve appears and freezes.

“oh.”

eddie says steve’s name, tears sliding across his skin and soaking into his sheets as he continues to fuck himself, hanging just on the precipice of enough, his body flushed with desperation and embarrassment.

steve must see it all, the desperation and embarrassment and all the tears, because he falters, his voice soft when he asks, “are you okay?”

“i can’t come,” eddie whines, a small sob escaping him, his hand slowing, and he hides his face in the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut, because holy fuck, steve is seeing this. seeing eddie like this, bare and more naked than he’s ever been because someone’s eyes are on him now. (he kind of likes it. feeling steve’s eyes trail over his skin, watching the toy. he feels seen.)

“do you want some help?” steve asks softly, his voice almost disappearing before it reaches eddie’s ears. eddie sobs again, nodding into the bed.

“please.”

it’s quiet for a moment before he feels the mattress shift and steve’s fingers run through his hair. eddie whimpers, letting out a quiet yes.

“look at me,” steve says lightly, quietly, gently. eddie turns his head, blinking up at him, breathing hard. steve caresses his head, hesitating. “i just got off work,” he says slowly, like he knows exactly how eddie’s brain is lagging. “and i’ve been handling money and stuff all day, so i’m gonna go wash my hands. and i’ll be right back. okay?”

“okay,” eddie says weakly.

“okay,” steve repeats softly with a smile. his hand disappears from eddie’s hair, and eddie whines as steve leaves to the bathroom down the hall. he keeps fucking himself as he listens to steve’s footsteps down the hall, to the bathroom sink running, to his bedroom door shut. his eyes flutter open when the mattress shifts again.

steve is laying next to him, his eyes soft, trained on eddie’s face even though eddie’s ass is in the air.

“what do you need?” steve whispers. eddie’s heart clenches. his hand stops again, holding the toy in place, and his brows furrow as his eyes water again.

“i need it to be real,” he says weakly without thinking.

“…what do you mean?”

eddie is still crying, and steve wipes a tear from the bridge of his nose carefully.

“need you to mean it, stevie,” eddie breathes. steve blinks at him, touching his cheek.

and then steve is moving closer, nudging their noses together, and eddie’s eyes close as their lips brush against each other.

“i mean it, eddie,” steve murmurs. and then he’s kissing him.

eddie gasps, releasing the toy and reaching for steve’s head, clutching at him, more desperate than he’s ever been. when they part, eddie’s skin is wet with tears and spit and eddie’s fingers have gotten lube in steve’s hair.

“what do you need?” steve asks again, his fingers brushing over eddie’s cheek.

“fuck me,” eddie breathes.

“…you sure?”

“please, steve,” eddie cries quietly. “i need it, i need you so bad.”

“okay,” steve whispers, kissing him again. “like this?”

“mm.”

steve shifts, moving to kneel behind eddie, and eddie is trembling with anticipation as he listens to steve undress, flushing with heat as he feels steve’s hand slide over his ass.

“you know you’re beautiful?” steve says softly, touching him. he presses against the toy for a moment, pushing it into eddie harder, making eddie whine, before he slowly, carefully pulls it out. “fuck.”

“stevie,” eddie whines, arching his back. one of steve’s hands squeezes, and his other traces eddie's hole lightly, his fingertip just pressing inside for a moment.

“you have condoms?”

eddie groans, gesturing with a flop of his arm to his bedside table, and steve laughs softly, getting up.

steve rubs his skin when he’s back, running his hands over eddie’s ass and thighs and the small of his back, his hands soft and warm and gentle on eddie’s scars before they pull away and eddie hears the clicking of the cap of the bottle of lube.

“ready?” steve whispers.

“yes.”

it’s better than the hairbrush. better than the toys. eddie groans, his voice muffled by the mattress, and steve lets out a soft shit.

“how do you want it?” steve asks roughly after pausing for eddie to adjust.

“hard. please. steve.”

“i got you, baby.”

baby. fuck. eddie’s never been called baby before. he’s never been called anything but his name, but freak and fag. he’s never been called anything sweet.

he starts crying again as steve fucks him, leaning over him, his hands on either side of eddie’s body.

“you feel good?” steve asks when he notices eddie crying.

“yes,” eddie chokes, delirious, gripping the sheets so tightly they might rip. “yes, so good, stevie. love your fucking dick.”

steve laughs, his breath on eddie’s shoulder before one of his hands slides over eddie’s back.

“just my dick?”

eddie giggles like he’s high, his back arching.

“love all of you,” he says.

“love all of you too, eddie.”

it doesn’t feel like the world’s tipped upside down like it should have. it feels like eddie already knew.

eddie whines, reaching back and grabbing steve’s hip, feeling it move back and forth, feeling his muscles shift under his skin.

“talk to me, stevie,” he says desperately, too loud.

steve leans down closer, brushing his lips over eddie’s shoulder.

“you wanna hear me?”

“mm.”

“i’m so obsessed with you,” steve says softly into eddie’s ear, breathing hard. eddie tilts his head to listen. “i’ve gotten off to… to the thought of you so many times.”

“really?” eddie says weakly.

“fuck. yeah.”

eddie whimpers, biting his lip so hard it might start bleeding.

“me too,” he says, because he doesn’t know how to articulate anything he’s thinking. steve seems to understand him.

“shit.” steve presses a rough kiss to eddie’s shoulder. “you’re so amazing, eddie. fucking everything about you. so fucking perfect. so pretty. that fucking hair. your lips.”

eddie’s head is filled with clouds. he’s crying, spit dripping from his mouth as it hangs open.

“steve,” he chokes. “gimme your hand.”

steve’s hand starts to slide down, under his hips, but eddie stops him with a quiet no, and he releases his hip, holding his hand up for steve to take it. their fingers lace tightly for a moment before eddie pulls steve’s hand to his mouth, sliding his tongue across his fingers.

“jesus,” steve murmurs, letting go of eddie’s hand and sliding two fingers into eddie’s mouth. eddie groans, holding steve’s wrist tightly. “you’re so perfect.”

eddie whimpers, sucking on his fingers and melting onto the mattress as it creaks with every thrust of steve’s hips.

“you’re so much better than a dildo,” eddie mumbles around his fingers, and steve laughs, kissing the back of his shoulder.

“am i your first time?” he asks after a second, like he’s just realised. eddie hums affirmatively, sucking on his fingers harder, smiling dopily when steve pushes them farther into his mouth, spreading them over his tongue. “god, you’re a fuckin’ natural, aren’t you?”

eddie giggles, drooling.

“can i go harder?” steve asks.

“yes. please.”

steve pulls his hand away from eddie’s mouth, and eddie whines softly, replacing his fingers with his own as steve sits ups straight, gripping eddie’s hips tightly before he slams into him. a short scream escapes eddie before he reaches to grab a pillow, pulling it close and burying his face in it.

“alright?” steve checks, breathless.

eddie moans into the pillow, pushing his ass back out toward him.

“words, eddie,” steve says, sliding a hand over his ass, and eddie lifts his head enough for steve to hear him.

“yes.”

“okay.”

eddie can hear steve’s smile in his voice.

eddie groans into the pillow as steve fucks him, each thrust hard enough that eddie’s whole body rocks forward, and he mumbles into the pillow even though steve can’t hear him.

“so fucking good, stevie, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

he’s getting closer. his moans grow louder, higher and higher, until steve’s hands tighten on his hips, gripping him like they’ll fall apart at the seams if he lets go. (the seams being the matching scars that cover their bodies.)

“you gonna come for me, honey?” steve asks breathlessly, sliding a hand up eddie’s spine. eddie groans and turns his head so steve can hear him.

“can i?”

“…come.”

eddie comes.

he’s always noisy when he comes, and he’s used to holding a pillow to his face to muffle it, but today is different. he’s groaning, low in his throat, and then he’s sobbing, his shoulders shaking as he cries. steve moans as he comes soon after, a hand running comfortingly down eddie’s back.

“fuck, eddie,” he pants. “you okay?”

eddie whines, trembling, and steve pulls out carefully, moving to lay next to eddie, pulling him into his arms. eddie’s legs give out under him and he lets steve pull him close, taking a gasping breath.

“slow,” steve instructs gently. “i got you.”

eddie inhales slowly, shakily, pressing his face into steve’s neck, focussing on the feeling of steve’s chest hair on eddie’s skin. his hands find steve’s waist, sliding to his back before they roll slightly so his arms can wrap around him.

“you okay?” steve asks softly after a few moments.

“‘m so okay, steve,” eddie murmurs. steve’s fingers run over his skin. “i’ve never come that hard. fuck.”

steve laughs softly, tilting his head to kiss the top of his head.

“got worried,” he says softly.

“don’t worry,” eddie says. he closes his eyes. “i’m just a crybaby.”

“sweet boy,” steve murmurs into his hair.

they’re quiet for a moment before steve carefully lets go of him, shifting to take off the condom and tie it off, rolling over to toss it to the trash can next to eddie’s desk.

“touch me,” eddie says before steve’s even rolled back over, and steve listens, pulling him close, tugging at him until he’s on top of steve, their legs tangled.

he closes his eyes as steve traces lines over his back, his fingertips dancing over eddie’s scars gently.

“did you mean it?” eddie asks softly after a minute. steve’s hands pause for a second before they continue.

“mean what?”

“that you… that you love me.”

“yes,” steve says without hesitating, without thinking.

“really?” eddie asks weakly.

“yes,” steve whispers again. “i love you. like… a lot.”

“fuck.”

“are you crying again?”

“…no,” eddie lies, but his voice cracks, and he feels steve’s chest move as he laughs softly, reaching to run his hand through eddie’s curls.

“crybaby,” he says fondly, kissing his head again. eddie whines, nuzzling into his neck. “i got you.”

eddie takes a shaky breath when he stops crying, sighing softly.

“next time,” steve says softly, “i wanna do this at my place.”

“why?” eddie asks, smiling.

“wanna make you as loud as possible.”

eddie snorts.

“yeah?”

“mm. wanna hear you scream without a pillow in your face.”

“okay,” eddie says softly. he could fall asleep here, his chest pressed to steve’s. their heart pressed together, beating in tandem with nothing but skin between them, feeling steve’s fingers sliding over his skin like they can’t decide where to stop. “you really like me?” he asks after a moment.

steve is quiet, still touching him.

“i came over today,” he starts slowly, voice soft. “because i had a bad day.”

eddie sits up, his forearms crossed over steve’s chest as he looks down at him, frowning a little bit. steve looks up at him fondly and tucks his hair behind his ear. his cheeks are flushed and rosy, his hair tousled, his eyes half-shut.

“work was rough,” he explains without eddie having to ask. “had a headache and some customers were rude and i just…” he shrugs weakly, nonchalantly. “couldn’t wait to get—“

he cuts himself off and swallows, his eyes flicking back and forth between eddie’s almost nervously.

“get what?” eddie prompts softly.

“…home.”

eddie blinks, his brain whirling, because steve is at eddie’s apartment right now, not his own house, and it all clicks. steve came to eddie’s after he had a hard day. steve called eddie’s name not three seconds after shutting the front door.

“oh.”

steve smiles weakly at him. eddie leans down and kisses him. he touches his cheek as steve’s lips part, caressing him. his skin is soft. he shivers when steve’s tongue slides over his lip, and he smiles when steve sucks on it softly.

“jesus,” he breathes when they part.

“what?” steve whispers.

“so good.”

“yeah?”

“mm.”

he tucks his face back into steve’s neck, sighing and relaxing, melting against steve, who reaches for the blanket and manages to drape it over their bare bodies. steve mumbles something about changing the sheets tomorrow.

“stevie?” eddie says after a few moments, feeling steve’s breaths become slow and sleepy.

“mhmm?”

“next time will you choke me?”

steve snorts, his arms tightening around eddie as eddie smiles.

“if you want me to. yeah.”

“‘s nice.”

“will you show me how?” steve asks. his voice is slurring a little bit, heavy with sleepiness. “‘ve never choked anyone. don’t wanna hurt you.”

“i’ll show you.”

“show me everything you like.”

“…you sure?”

steve scoffs.

“yes. want everything you’ll let me have.”

“…oh.”

“go to sleep, honey,” steve murmurs. eddie nuzzles into his neck and bites him. steve just hums and presses a hand to the small of his back. “love you.”

“love you too, stevie.”

[iloveyourwritingthankyou]

Eddie Munson is an ass man

Masterlist

Eddie Munson is an ass man

Ok so I am convinced this guy is an ass man, not just in the sense he likes looking at it/grabbing it

Anal is eddies favourite kind of sex, if it’s not something you’re into its not a deal breaker but if you’re up for it he'll go as far with it as you let him

He enjoys eating your ass as much as fucking it, he loves having you sit on his face

You’d think his favourite position is doggy because of his love of all things ass but he actually doesn’t like to have sex in any position he cant see your face

He’s decided the best of both words is doggy in front of his mirror

If you're into or willing to try denial Eddie is happy to kind of ignore your pussy because your ass is just so hot

Part of the reason he enjoys anal is he can come in you without worrying and keep it there

Even when he fucks your pussy he finishes in your ass

Eddie likes making you cum though, he enjoys knowing you feel good so I can see him training you to cum from anal

Using a vibe and his fingers to get you off while he's inside you, so you associate him fucking your ass with intense orgasms

Specifically picking angles that still hit your g-spot

He likes to convince you to wear skirts without underwear whenever he can as well, gives him better access to your ass

And even if you’re wearing something with more coverage he is grabbing your ass any chance he gets

He initially convinces you to start wearing a plug in public as a trade off, he wont grab your ass in public whenever you have the plug in

That doesn’t hold up very long but by then you’re kind of used to the plug and enjoy wearing It for him

He goes out of his way to get you a black and red one, something cute to help convince you initially

He ends up with a reasonably big collection of plugs for you eventually, he matches them to your outfits

Eddie likes the idea of keeping you plugged so he can fuck you whenever he feels like it

His dick is thick enough that prepping you properly means you gape a little when the plug is taken out

Eddie uses the plug to his full advantage

Being a brat while you and Eddie are out?  his hand is reaching up your skirt to fuck you with the plug and remind you who you belong to

Someone on the basketball team flirts with you? Eddie gets possessive and has you cheer with his cum plugged in your ass the next day

Eddie’s a bit of a sadist as well, he likes to watch you panic and squirm a little

So occasionally when you’re out shopping at the mall he'll pull the plug out knowing that you're too gaped to stop the cum dripping down your legs

He likes watching the way you react when you feel it dripping out despite your best efforts

He’s nice enough to offer the plug back once it’s just becoming visible past the line of your skirt, he doesn’t want to embarrass his girl too much

He will make you earn the plug back though, generally he gives you a few options to pick between

eating the cum that's dripped onto your legs so that you’re nice and clean for the plug to go back in

Letting him fuck you in a secluded bathroom so you're nice and full again

Spanks so your ass is all pretty and red to match the gem on the plug

Eddie loves spanking with the plug in, watching you clench around it and moan

And it turns your ass suck pretty colours too, sometimes he'll leave hickeys as well so there's some really pretty bruises

He’s got a polaroid of it in his wallet

I feel like eventually he convinces you to get a little tattoo on your ass so there’s a more permanent mark

Little cursive lines that say something along the lines of eddies little anal whore

He teases you about it all the time once you have it especially if you’re bratty

Be bends your head back so you can see it in the mirror when you fuck

Sometimes if you've been a real brat I can see him upping the plug size to something barely reasonable

It stings a little but he doesn’t do anything about it unless you safe word

Because naughty girls need reminders that they are toys for his entertainment so if he wants to see you stretched out and whiny then that's what happens

If you’re really willing to let Eddie push your limits, I can see him inviting Steve to try double anal penetration

He’s thinner so its not a terrible stretch but he's a bit longer

They go a few rounds so by the time eddies putting the plug back in its barely containing the cum that wants to drip out of your abused little hole

You're so sensitive that you cum when he pushes it in

[cyarsk52-20]

Happy birthday 🎁🎈🎉🎊🎂 I can’t wait for more episodes of Abbott elementary

[mattoidmeerkat]

Happy Father's Day to the dads of 911

(Sperm Donor Day is in three days. Sorry, Buck! 😶)

[sapphire600]

In Venom 3, I want a scene where Eddie, Venom, Patrick and Toxin is on a rooftop at night and Venom explain his origin to Toxin, about the Multiverse, Knull, the Hive Mind, their kind Klyntar and how Spider-Man rejected them in various different universes and how he “ruined” Eddie life which brought them together. Basically implying Eddie was a rebound after Spider-Man broke up with them.

They all speechless and Eddie confusedly asked “wait, I was a rebound?”

Patrick who is still trying to process there is a freaking Multiverse, yells at Eddie “THAT IS WHAT YOU MORE WORRY ABOUT?!”

[gay-stuff-is-happening-here]

This is how buck and Eddie should kiss when they go canon buck grabbing Eddie’s face and forcing Eddie to go on his tippy toes would make me combust

Source: Twitter

[harringtown]

you kissed me just to kiss me

because we all need some soft eddie fluff in our days <3 

requested by anonymous

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: the reader has never been kissed. eddie volunteers to be the first (no plot just sap and smoochin’)

word count: 1.5k

-

Nothing about Eddie matches the bedroom, yet he seems effortlessly at ease among posters he doesn’t recognize, lounging on the end of a bed that isn’t his, a worn novel he found on the bedside spread across his lap like he’s the one who dogeared all the pages.

He doesn’t quite fit with the image, but somehow, he enhances it. Turns a boring room into a shining landscape.

“Oh, come on,” Eddie says, setting the long-abandoned book aside. He rolls onto his stomach, propped up on his elbows with his hands on his chin like a little kid. He waggles his brows. “I swear, I won’t tell a soul.”

“Not happening.”

Eddie pouts. “Hey. I showed you mine, you show me yours.”

Your cheeks flame, but you manage to lift your brows and say, “You volunteered that information. And I’m pretty sure you just wanted to brag, because we all know Annabelle Jones looks like a supermodel, now.”

“Tomato, tomato.” He waves a hand. “Come on. Your first couldn’t have been that bad. I swear, I won’t judge.” He makes the sign of the cross, but you’re fairly sure he does it backwards. It almost makes you smile.

Almost. But the line of questioning is edging too close to a cliff that you spend most of your time far away from.

“Do I know ‘em?”

You frown. “No.”

“Ah, out of towner. Or a whirlwind vacation romance?” Eddie waggles his brows.  

You chew on the inside of your cheek for a long moment before you say, “I haven’t.”

Eddie frowns. “Haven’t…?”

“Haven’t kissed anyone,” you say, and want to dissolve into the beanbag you’re sitting on.

Eddie’s lips part, and he stares at you for a long moment, like his brain has short-circuited.

You push off the beanbag and cross to your window, folding your arms and looking back at him.

“You said you wouldn’t judge,” you say.

Eddie shakes his head, quickly pushing up to a sitting position. “No, I wasn’t—it’s not that.” A line forms between his brows. “I’m just surprised, I guess.” He clears his throat. You can tell he’s about to ask the question, the one you ask yourself, the why, the how, and before he can, you answer.

“I always felt like I was… behind. It seemed like everyone and their mother was making out with someone under the bleachers. And by the time I graduated, I’d convinced myself it just wasn’t meant for me. That maybe there was just something wrong with me. I think part of me knew that wasn’t and that it’d happen eventually, but…” You let your gaze drift out the window, onto the bright afternoon street. “But it didn’t. And that part of me that believed in it got smaller. And now, here I am.”

The mattress squeaks in protest as Eddie climbs off it, and you hear him come to stand beside you, but you don’t look at him.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” he says. “You hear me? Nothing.”

You shrug. “Maybe. Maybe not. But either way, I’m still… behind.” A bitter smile twists on your lips. “How do you even tell someone that? Hey, so, before you kiss me, you should know, I’ve never even held a boy’s hand?”

“You’re not behind,” Eddie says. “So, what, you didn’t make out with some brace-face twelve year old, or get stuck in a closet with some asshole for seven minutes in heaven. That doesn’t mean shit. It sure as hell doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.”

“It does mean I have no clue what I’m doing. Even if—” You stop, trailing off before the words someone wanted to kiss me come out, because they still sound ridiculous. Fake. A beautiful fantasy.

Eddie is quiet for a moment. When he finally does speak, he says the last thing you expect.

“I could show you,” he says, and there’s something in his tone that makes you suddenly aware of how small the windowsill you’re both tucked into is.

“What?” you ask, heart kickstarting, nerves racing up and down your skin like electricity down a wire.

“Your first kiss, that’s a story you’re gonna tell for the rest of your life,” Eddie says. “You deserve a better story than some drunk hookup at a party with a stranger.” Eddie is seldom serious, but this, his hesitation and his soft tone, is different.

You risk a glance his way and find him already watching you. He’s closer than he was a second ago, and it’s both terrifying and exhilarating, and you’re fighting every urge to run for the door.

“The first person who kisses you,” he says, “should be someone who actually gives a shit about you.” He licks his lips. You’ve spent your fair share of time staring at those lips—more than you should. And then he grins, like can read your mind, and normally, it’d irritate you, but right now, it’s like sparking a match.

“You don’t have to do that,” you whisper. Your heart beats like a kick drum, so loud you’re surprised Eddie can’t hear.

His grin softens, and he shifts back, just a bit. For a split second, you think he’s decided against his own proposition, but then he says, “There’s no pressure. It’s just an offer, love.”

Eddie Munson has called you a dozen things besides your own name, but never that, and never like this.

“It’s no big deal if you don’t want to,” he presses. “But if you change your mind—”

“No,” you say. “I want to.” Heat rises up your neck, across your cheeks, all the way to your ears.

Eddie’s brows twitch. “You’re sure?”

You nod. But still, Eddie goes on, “Don’t just say it because you think you have to. You don’t. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want—”

“Eddie.” He pauses, and you gather up whatever courage you have to say, “Kiss me.”

For a moment, he looks at you like he’s never seen you before, and part of you feels the same. You’ve met a dozen versions of Eddie in the three months you’ve been friends, but not this one.

He lifts a hand to your face, thumb tracing gently down the corner of your mouth, to your chin, and back up. You will yourself still as he moves closer, closer, until his warm breath tickles your skin.

Eddie nudges your chin up, and your eyes fall shut. A beat later, Eddie brushes his lips against yours, ever so softly. It’s the ghost of a kiss, so soft and small you could have imagined it.

You shift back, struggling to think beyond the flames in your cheeks and the racing of your heart.

Eddie’s eyes snap open as you drag your tongue along your bottom lip, and his gaze darts down, and up again. His lips part, as if to speak, but you don’t give him the chance, leaning forward to kiss him once more.

And this time, you feel it. Slow, careful, his mouth against yours. Lemon shampoo and that spicy, earthy scent that cling to him always, and curls tickling your cheeks, and his hands, slipping to your waist and drawing you closer.

You may not have any shred of experience, but you’ve read enough books and seen enough movies to have a few ideas about how this works. So, when Eddie’s mouth parts, you sweep your tongue across his bottom lip. A shudder rolls through him, and though you didn’t think it was possible, Eddie pulls you closer, so close you can feel his heart thrumming against his chest.

At some point in the last few seconds, you started to back up, and when the backs of your knees collide with the tall seat of the windowsill, Eddie breaks from your lips just long enough to murmur, “Jump,” before he’s kissing you again. You do, and he guides you up, onto the sill, pushing between your knees.

And all you can think is, I can’t believe I waited this long. But not just to kiss someone. To kiss him.

Or maybe, that was the whole point. That all this time, you’d been waiting for him to stumble along.

Only when your lips are swollen and your lungs are screaming for air do you pull back, and even then, Eddie holds your face between his hands, his thumbs trailing up and down your cheeks.

“You have no idea,” he says, “how long I’ve wanted to do that.” And it’s like Eddie can sense you’re about to protest, or doubt it, because he adds, “Since the day I met you. You handed me that stupid, stupid work shirt—” You smile, and he’s smiling, too. He leans closer, bumps his nose with yours once. “—and I just knew. This girl is going to royally fuck up my life. And I couldn’t wait.”

“So, you’re saying we could have been doing this for three months?” you ask.

Eddie laughs, and you wish you could crystallize that sound, carry it on a keychain with you forever.

“Guess we’ll have to make up for lost time, then,” he says.

And even though it’s a little difficult to kiss with all the smiling, you manage to make it work.

-

taglist: @milkiane​ @robiin-buckley​ 

[sweettoothvn]

Man Eddie is a cutie but his dad Brooklyn sheesh... For him I would be his housewife if he want it