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#it fits anon UR RIGHT
ihatebnha · 2 years
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I feel like kaminari can play the piano... And play it WELL. Like I was listening to the piano verse in engravings by Ethan Bortnick earlier this moment and I was like... THIS is something that Kaminari can do, and he does it to impress you... The man is that good with his fingers.
(link fs!)
"earlier this moment" okay love, but also... UGH. This is probably disproved by the uhh... school festival arc, even though... I TOTALLY AGREE W/ YOU!!!
He definitely whips it out of nowhere, too. You know, like sometimes you'll meet someone who's just like, "oh yeah, I can play the piano" and then absolutely TEARS it up? THAT'S HIM!!! Sitting on the bench acting all goofy like he's not about to blow your mind... it really is unexpected how well and fast he can play when he really wants to.
AND THEN when you compliment him, too... he's just all, "oh that? that was nothing pshhh. piano isn't cool at all," even tho he's soaking up the y/n-attention like a sponge.
and it's kinda funny cuz if Kiri or Sero asks him to play anything, he's glaring at them all "NO..." but if you ask, he's playing WHATEVER you want w/ a whole smile on his face alkjdfsjdlfa.
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love-toxin · 1 year
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i watched across the spiderverse today and miguel is so 🥵🥵🥵 i need to give that man a baby ASAP
LISTEN!!!!! UR SO RIGHT!!!! it would fix him i KNOW it would. u can't tell me this man's not uptight at least in part because he's got that urge to breed and he's barely holding it back. give him a warm hole to go all mating season on and he'd soften right up 💦💦💕💕
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Speaking of Watcher instincts, and thinking about the Entity Grian built - Watchers have an endoparasitic larval stage and Grian built a base that had an inside made to seem meaty and gave it a heartbeat with a conduit. That's probably creepy and kind of gorey feeling to most Players, but comforting to Watchers.
Grian, blithely practicing colour theory:
the other hermits:
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electracraft · 2 years
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do you think they will do a cooking stream on george's birthday? it'd be so cool especially if lots of people visit them on halloween so there could be lots of their friends on that stream
I HOPE SO cooking streams are always so fun and iconic it would be awesome if the george cooking streams progression was alone on his birthday baking a cake -> snf stream -> finally dream team birthday cooking stream + friends maybe :)
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inkykeiji · 1 year
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tysm for replying to my ask!! ur thoughts on it were so lewd HAHAHA just how it should be. it also makes me so SAD LMAOO 🥹🥹🥹 i never understood why dazai treats aku so harshly, anime & manga 😞 THE ENDING MADE ME SO HAPPY LMAOAOAOA ty again ❤️💯😹
omg anon of course!!! it was a great ask i loved it so much! <3 HEHEHE YES OF COURSE <333 my mind is so dark and nasty when it comes to those two i swear to GOD i have so many thoughts worming around in my brain,,,,
OKAY YES SEE i was literally just talking to my best friend about this like a day or two ago!!! i don’t understand it at all, he’s so incredibly cruel towards him and my thoughts were: part of me wonders if it’s just this pure rush of potent POWER he feels/gets from it—like being in charge, being in control, knowing that no matter how many times and how callously he kicks this man down he will ALWAYS come crawling back to him begging for praise and validation time and again, knowing he can do anything to him and get away with it and aku will still look at him with stars in his eyes—and another part of me wonders if dazai believes he ‘has’ to be this mean to draw out aku’s true power n strength (which could also be used as a front or excuse to so viciously abuse him). but i don’t believe that’s true, because i genuinely believe aku would continue to vie for dazai’s praise even if he was given it often. i truly do believe dazai has a very, very dark side to him that is inherent to who he is, but i also still have a whole season left + the manga etc to read so!!! i’m a lil hesitant making these interpretations before i’m fully caught up but these are the vibes i personally get from him thus far <3
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touyaz · 10 months
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dragon game: poison
thank u <33
dragon-themed writer ask game
Poison: share a snippet that’s all about relationships (good or bad).
rough and all i have for it so far but a lil itoshi rin thing i forgot i had + only god knows where im going w it :))
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butchdykekondraki · 1 year
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hi. i woke up. that means its ramble time yayyy yaysiesss
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canongf-archive · 1 year
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in his head, older!Eddie thinks he’s calm and chill and much more mellowed out but on the outside he is Clearly Not — he’s /convinced/ he’s way more laid back now that he’s older but he’s just obviously not, he’s still so crazy about you and prone to blurting things out
this is canon to me now!!!!!
anon... i'm obsessed with this. it's so cute and fitting. and you know what! i think i will just let him believe what he wants to believe!!! he can think that he is laid back and cool and we will all know that he is just not. and it'll make it extra cute when he continues to blurt things out and trip over his feet.
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arminsumi · 6 months
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S. Geto ★ Brother's Best Friend
Breaking the bed with your brother's best friend!
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★ Requested by anon
★ Pairings : fem reader / badboy!Geto
★ Synopsis : even though he made a promise to your brother, Suguru Geto just couldn't keep his hands off of you.
★ Warnings : 18+ content, secret sex, brother's best friend trope, toys, visiting adult store, mutual m*sturbation, solo male m*sturbation, fantasies, creampie, pillow riding, sexting, wall/standing sex, mentions f*ngering, mentions bl*wjob, +++
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Your brother always made sure that you and his best friend weren't alone together for too long. He totally restricted you and him from becoming friends, because he knew that neither of you two would be able to stay just friends.
Whenever Suguru had your company, he got flirtier. His mannerisms. His word choices. Compliments just spilled from his lips. He'd undress you with his eyes.
The chemistry between you two always made you squeeze your thighs together tightly.
Suguru Geto was a sorely attractive and alluring man. How could you not be turned on by him?
He had that slim-fit physique. Tattoos. A natural sultriness. That mysterious "he could be a cult leader for all I know" feeling about him.
He was also honest and spoke his mind.
"No offence," he said to you once, "But all the men you've dated are losers. All they've done is leave you with a broken heart."
You replied exactly how he'd hoped you'd reply; "I know. Do you know any better man?" you said suggestively, inching closer to him.
"I wish..." he huffed with a smile.
You pawed at his chest, "Suguru, my brother doesn't have to know about us..."
His heart beat rapidly and he felt his neck tense up.
Gently, he grabbed your hands and pried them off of his t-shirt.
"No, I made a promise to him that I wouldn't mess around with you. Okay?" he said determinedly.
Your funny little pout hurt him, because even though you tried to be comedic about his rejection he could still sense your deep sadness and desperation for him.
****
So many times during sleepovers, you had to get off on your pillow after hugging Suguru goodnight.
He was definitely being a bad boy, taking risks like hugging you when your brother was around. It earned a tense response from your brother, but Suguru quickly scurried off to the guest bedroom and acted like he did nothing.
Your bedroom was situated right next to the guest bedroom.
The walls were thin.
You could vaguely hear him grunting and throatily groaning as he pounded his fleshlight in the middle of the night.
He was most definitely being verbal on purpose, because in reality he was one of those silent type guys during sex. Suguru knew what he was doing. He always knew what he was doing, even when he wore those thin-fabric sweatpants that showed the outline of his huge cock snuggling against his muscular thigh. And all those times you "accidentally" walked in on him changing his shirt, he made his abs twitch and flex a little for you.
Suguru was always doing things in consideration of your horniness. He knew you had a hard time holding back, so he tested you — he tested your determination to not fuck your brother's best friend.
It was difficult to refrain from sneaking into the guest bedroom and hopping on his dick, it really was.
You rutted against the pillow and tweaked and pinched your nipples, chasing your pleasure.
The sound of slapping balls and lubed up thrusting carried through the wall as Suguru gave his fleshlight a heavy, sloppy pounding.
Suguru spiced things up and called out your name in a soft murmur, hoping you were listening.
"Mmm." you hummed back. He just barely heard it, but it made him grin naughtily.
He stopped pounding away at his toy, and drew his forearm across his forehead to wipe his sweat. He pulled out his phone and texted you.
📨 1 NEW
Suguru: i heard that. someone's wide awake 👀 You: yeah :( ur fault!! Suguru: my fault? how? 😗 You: u hugged me too tight earlier n got me worked up Suguru: haha just hugging got you horny? that's adorable You: stfu i didn't say i'm horny 🤬 Suguru: yeah right. bet you're humping ur hand listening to me rn lol You: nope Suguru: i don't believe u 🤨 u were totally listening. my fleshlight told me. it was pussy to pussy communication You: lol You: yeahh i was listening You: and squeezing my tits with both hands and riding my pillow 😇 Suguru: fuck Suguru: come over You: haha no way i'd wake up the neighborhood Suguru: dw i have ways to shut you up 😉
If your brother knew that at 1 AM that night, you snuck out and let Suguru finger you to your orgasm and gave him a blowjob, then he would have grilled both of you like meat on a barbeque.
But he never found out. Suguru held his moans in and gritted his teeth, and he covered your mouth with his big hand to stifle any noise coming out of you.
Suguru was turned on that he had this little secret with you.
Sleepovers became more anticipated. Your brother was confused sometimes, because while he liked having his best friend staying the night, Suguru was often over-enthusiastic at the idea.
"Oh I can stay the night?" it was the way his eyes lit up and his tone raised like he'd just gotten a hint about his Christmas present.
It always played out the same.
Suguru would be jerking off to you, thumbing through his favorited pictures — you know, those panty pictures and swimsuit ones that you wanted his verdict on. Well his verdict was groaning and throwing his head back and having a full-body orgasm.
If you were still awake, you'd whimper through the wall for him. He'd press himself against the cold wall and stroke his cock hard and fast until his balls bounced.
It became a thing.
Come the morning, the two of you would pretend nothing happened. But that knowing glint was always in his eyes.
****
In time, Suguru started drooling and obsessing over the idea of having sex with you. The tension between you and him had been reaching a peak.
Risky touches. Hot glances. Flirty tones. Sneaky sexting. Lingering hugs.
He took you out to the adult store under the pretense that he was just taking you shopping. Your brother let it slide, since you threw a fake temper tantrum about it until you got your way.
"You're such a spoiled princess." Suguru flirted when he pulled out of the driveway.
You giggled behind him, holding on tight as he rode off down the street, motorcycle rumbling loud.
He slung an arm around you in public and gave you kisses, thriving on the jealous looks that the two of you received from passers-by.
In the adult store, he agreed to buy you anything your heart wanted as long as you gave him proof that it was being put to good use.
Of course, he was buying you a toy that was as similar to his own cock as possible.
"And angel, don't get too attached to silicone. Nothing beats the real thing." he said.
"Oh yeah?" you batted your lashes at him.
When you batted your lashes like that, he snapped right there — the invisible restraints that kept him from breaking his promise to your brother broke.
He took you home, saw that your brother texted him will be home at 5-ish and then wasted no time before fucking your brains out right there up against the wall.
Once wasn't enough for either of you, so Suguru slipped his cock out and carried you to the bedroom.
****
"Su-su—Suguru! Not so hard! Y-you'll break the bed!" you said.
You were caged under Suguru's muscular body as he relentlessly pounded his cock into you, hitting deep spots that your newly bought toy surely wouldn't ever read — good. You'd crawl back to him for more.
"I don't care, let it break." he grunted into your ear.
He tried new angles until his cock pressured against your G-spot. You gasped and your moans quickly developed into stuttering incoherence.
"Fuck fuck fuck Suguru! Suuuguru! I'm so close, I'm gonna cum!" you screamed.
"Yeah? I'm close too, baby." he groaned. "Rub your clit faster, cum with me."
"W-we really shouldn't be doing this, mmm!" you moaned.
He smirked, "Yeah yeah, I know that turns you on more. Fucking slut. Cum with me and keep your pretty mouth shut about this."
Suguru brought you to a long orgasm. He groaned and his jaw went slack as he creampied his best friend's sister's pussy.
When he rolled off and caught his breath, he felt a small guilt but it was quickly smothered when you rolled back on top to kiss him hard.
"I think we broke the bed..." he chuckled.
"... oh. Shit." you giggled.
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© arminsumi
I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.
This is fictional work.
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shikakunaras · 2 years
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toji is 5'11
THANK YOU ;w; I read he was 6'2 and then 5'7 and I was getting annoyed. I wish I brought the manga to school with me.
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urhoneycombwitch · 3 months
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imagine being loved by me
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🍯 honey flavour: your love has stood the test of time, thus far, but a party fit for a rockstar brings up some bitter emotions.
🐝 the bees: rockstar!Eddie x jealous!Reader
wc: 8k
cw: drugs and alcohol consumption, mentions of weight gain (eddie’s, in a positive manner), R has panic/anxiety attack, jealousy (talked about and resolved tho), softdom!Reader, softdom!Eddie, oral (E and R receiving), R has breasts + a V and referred to with she/her pronouns, P in V sex, cumming inside w/out protection
foreword: timeline is wobbly and may not align perfectly w canon bc I’m bad at math so shhhh suspend ur disbelief. based on this anon thank you v much anon <3
___
It’s the coldest January Hawkins has seen in ages. Snow banks sit high on the roadsides, air thick with snowflakes, three-AM fog brought in courtesy of the bitter wind chill. 
Under the yellow floodlight of a nearby streetlamp, your boyfriend is sucking down the last of a joint while you stamp your feet against the gravel parking lot.
“C’mon, Eddie,” you whine, crossing the arms of your fleeced puffer jacket, bouncing on your heels to keep the blood flowing. “My toes are gonna get frostbite.”
“A touch dramatic,” Eddie replies, unbothered. The cherry of the joint between his lips burns orange, casting a warm glow over Eddie’s cheekbones, the twinkle of snowflakes caught in his bangs. “I told you to go in without me, princess. Warmer in there.”
“Without you? As if.” You pull the pity card, and it works, ‘cuz it always does- that boy has got to learn how to say no to you, one of these days. 
Not today, though, because Eddie is tamping out the ember on the sole of his boot and crunching up the snowy path to sling an arm around your neck.
“Grub time,” he says against your hair, pressing his cold lips to the side of your forehead as you both make your way into Benny’s Burgers.
The heated air is a welcome relief, and save for a couple of old-timers at a side table, you and Eddie are the only customers in the place. 
Benny greets you both from where he’s flipping patties on the kitchen grill, waving a spatula at the corner booth- “All yours, kiddos. Want the usual?”
You and Eddie call out affirmatives as you sink into opposing seats, unwrapping yourselves from all your winter gear as you go.
“God bless Benny Hammond for expanding his night hours,” you say, piling your green scarf on the tabletop. “This is a good tradition for us, y’know. Post-band practice smoking and coffee- very rock and roll.”
“I concur.” Eddie tosses his knit hat at you playfully. “You, my lady, have the most rock ‘n roll soul I ever did see.”
As Benny approaches with two mugs of steaming coffee, you muse aloud, “Not sure if the amount of sugar you’re about to dump in your coffee is very metal, per se...”
“Y’hear that, Benny?” Eddie grabs a fistful of sugar packets and shakes them indignantly. “My girl’s trying to keep me on the straight and narrow. How’s a rockstar s’posed to live in these conditions?”
“Lord knows,” Benny says, sardonic, setting the mugs down and turning back to the kitchen.
Eddie winces as his hands wrap around the heat of the mug, and you notice right away. “Your fingers splitting again? I have that salve that you used last time, but it’s back at the trailer.”
He puts his hand face-up onto the table, and you slip yours into his, the deep fingertip grooves from guitar strings rough against your soft palm.
“I’ll live. Plus, it’s kind of metal, right?” Eddie runs a calloused thumb across the back of your hand.
You squeeze back, give him a wink. “Very metal.”
Eddie’s been working himself to the bone lately. Trying to stay in school and not drop out is a feat in itself, but compounded with the band practices that have only ramped up in length recently, it’s a lot to balance.
He hasn’t complained at all, of course. It’s not really in his nature.
In the past few weeks, however, he’s been imbued with this near-manic energy, a renewed sense of purpose. In between your own fitful sleeps you often wake in the early hours of the morning to find Eddie hunched over his desk, pen flying across his notebook as he reworks an old song or outlines a new one. Not that you weren’t proud of him before, but seeing him apply this newfound passion to his music has been a huge source of joy for you. 
And, if you’re being really honest, also a major turn on. I mean, the boy’s got swagger like no other, and you’re so glad he’s finally utilizing it on stage. Even if that stage is in the middle of a piece of shit dive bar. Still counts, in your book.
Benny drops off baskets of hot fries, a burger for Eddie, and a BLT for you. Methodic and familiar, you offload half your fries to Eddie’s basket as he slides his burger towards you for the first bite. 
After a few minutes of peaceful eating, Eddie balls up a napkin in his fist and raps the table with his knuckles. “So, uh. Kind of have some news.”
You slot the ketchup bottle back into its metal holder and look up with raised brows. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He looks suddenly nervous, knee knocking into the underside of the table as he bounces his leg compulsively. “You remember Paige Warner? Graduated in ‘81, brother is a baseball jock?”
When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath- his unease is kind of setting you on edge. 
“What about Paige Warner?” you prompt.
“She moved out to L.A. for a job and she’s working this scouting gig for some bigshot record,” he continues, absently pulling the thin napkin in his hands into pieces, staring vacantly at the mess. “And she wants Corroded Coffin to record and send out a demo to the label.”
As the news sinks in, your jaw drops. “Holy shit. What?”
“Yeah.” Eddie’s fidgeting with the paper scraps now, still not making eye contact with you. “She wants us to start recording next week. I haven’t told anyone else, yet, I wanted to make sure you were the first-”
You interrupt him with an excited little squeal (drawing glares from the old guys across the diner) and shove up from your side of the table to throw your arms around Eddie.
“Holy shit,” you repeat, laughing as Eddie pulls you into his lap- “Eddie, that’s amazing!”
“You think so?” he asks, your enthusiasm allowing his own to creep in; He slides his hands to your denim-clad hips, his self-professed favorite stress toy (well, tied for favorite with your thighs). 
“How come you were so nervous to tell me?” You ask him, gently, tucking his dark hair behind his ears so you can see his face better. “Were you thinking I’d react differently?”
He looks up at you wide-eyed, shakes his head- “No, no, I wasn’t worried about you reacting a certain way. I just… I’m just worried about what this’ll mean. You know. For us.”
“Us?” You echo, encouraging him to continue. 
Eddie squeezes at your hips, presses the crown of his head against your collarbone like he’s mustering up the courage to speak. “Yeah, us. I know L.A. isn’t your dream- shit, I don’t even know if it’s mine- but you didn’t sign up to go on the road like this. You’ve got college to consider, and-”
“So I’ll take a gap year,” you interrupt, putting a hand to his cheek to make him look at you again, and when he starts to protest, you talk over him. “No, Eddie, I’m serious. I don’t know what the hell I wanna do with my life yet anyways. Following my hot rockstar boyfriend to a new town sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”
He shakes his head again, and you can feel his dimples spring to life under your hand as he teases, “Gonna be my little groupie?”
“And more,” you confirm, giving him a kiss (chaste, so as not to invoke any more ire from the grumpy other customers) and sliding off his lap to return to your own seat. “I’ll be your assistant extraordinaire, if you want. Or bodyguard. Make sure none of the other groupie chicks get too close.”
Eddie rolls his eyes, fondly. “You’re the only groupie I need, sweetheart.”
Settling back into your respective seats, you both work on the last basket of fries while chatting genially about the future. Eddie mentions getting an apartment in Los Angeles, so there’s less of a commute, which branches the conversation into the logistics of a cross-country move, and then on to more important topics such as the alleged coolness of west-coast parties. 
“Who’s your celebrity hall pass?” you ask, out of pure interest, dipping a fry into the well of ketchup. “Like, say you’re rubbing elbows at some famous muckety-muck’s party and someone catches your eye. Who’re you taking back to the motel for a slutty roll in the hay?”
Eddie snickers at your phrasing, then says, “I mean, preferably, my super hot girlfriend-”
You throw a fry at his head. “That’s such a cop-out answer. In this hypothetical, Joan Jett is in red leather petting up on you and you’re saying you wouldn’t take her up on a one-night stand?”
A laugh bursts out of Eddie, a real, proper one where he throws his head back. “Are you actively encouraging me to hook up with some bimbo at a random party? Without you? Unlikely scenario on all fronts, babe.”
This earns him another launched fry, and he squawks, trying to shake it out of its place caught in his hair as you reprimand him- “Joan Jett is not some bimbo, watch your mouth! And what I’m saying is, if you didn’t at least try to score us a threesome with her, I’d be pissed.”
“Okay, baby,” Eddie soothes you a tad derisively, likely a ploy to avoid more flying food- “if I meet Joan Jett I will do my level best to get her in our bed. Scout’s honor.”
He holds up two fingers and wiggles them obscenely, grinning when you laugh again. “All right, Nosey McGee. Who are you taking home from the party?”
You hum, eyes flicking up to the ceiling, contemplating the options. “I guess I could be talked into a night with Kirk Hammett.”
Eddie’s turn to launch a fry. “You slut,” he chuckles, “That was a way quicker answer than mine.”
“Okay, fine. If I meet Kirk Hammett, I promise to at least make a bid for threesome. Deal?” You extend your pinkie across the table.
Eddie loops his little finger into yours. “Deal.”
____
The memory of that cozy diner evening years ago fades as you shake yourself to the present.
You aren’t two highschool kids with lofty dreams, anymore- after Eddie’s recovery from all that Upside Down bullshit in ‘86, Corroded Coffin took off. Even though Paige didn’t end up coming through with any deals, Eddie and his bandmates fought like hell to get signed- and by the end of that year, a small record label in the heart of downtown Chicago had taken the bait.
Corroded Coffin turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to Arken Records; by the spring of ‘87, business was booming thanks to the help of Corroded’s debut album, The Banished Ones- their new single was a chart-topper for over 6 weeks. (Smash Hit magazine’s latest review was titled “Fresh Sound Rises from Dirt Nowhere.” You have the paper clipping saved in your ever-growing folder with “rockstar boyfriend!!!” handwritten in black ink.) 
And in a few weeks, the band will set off on their first real tour, starting in Chicago and ending with a bang in an already sold-out show in Hawkins- Dustin, Steve, and the rest of the gang with VIP front-row seats, of course. 
As much as you and Eddie have grown and matured in the past few years, the core of you both has remained the same. Eddie is still just as dorky, goofy, and caring as he always has been, while you’ve kept that tenacious spirit and quick wit that he fell in love with back in the early days of dating. Even now, with his popularity rising and his rockstar dreams on their way to coming true, Eddie constantly brings his focus back to you. 
Pillow talks in cushy hotel beds, late night ramblings over post-show whiskeys, holding hands in the back of yet another cab- when he could be talking about the thousands of exciting things happening in his own life, Eddie is asking about you.
Did you talk to Robin last night, sweetheart? How’s ‘ol Birdie doin? What do you wanna wear to that dinner thingy tomorrow… could go naked for all I care. In fact you probably should because of feminism and all that. Did you sleep okay last night? Let me look at ya. You thinkin’ any more about those applications you got?
You’d taken a gap year to support Eddie, which you were happy to do, but with ‘87 drawing to a close, he’s been more insistent lately that you take a look at all your college options. Honestly, you’ve been enjoying the adventures that come with touring way too much to consider going back to the rigidity of school. 
And plus, having the love of your life nearly bleed out in your arms in a parallel dimension has totally realigned your priorities. If folks thought you and Eddie were attached at the hip before… 
He’ll likely argue you into academia, eventually. He always rolls high on persuasion. Damn him.
For now, you’ve got a party to attend. 
Arken Records is playing host, on the last night of 1987- in celebration of Corroded Coffin’s success and to kick off the New Year’s festivities, they’ve rented out a house in east Chicago for the event. 
Well, house isn’t the right word. More like mansion. Vaulted ceilings tall as a church’s, huge windows overlooking the Chicago river, a grand chandelier with flickering candles in nearly every room. 
When you and Eddie had toured the place a few days previous, he’d made a joking complaint low in your ear about not having the time to fuck you on every surface. Your laugh had reverberated off the sweeping mahogany floorboards, mostly at the expense of Eddie’s poor publicist who’d happened to hear his comment. (Melanie had really been putting in overtime lately; you made a mental note to send her a very nice flower arrangement and vouchers for a spa trip.)
The party was in full swing by the time you and Eddie arrived, fashionably late, and he had been folded into the throng of other musicians and partygoers against his will pretty much immediately- which you’d expected. The last hour, he’s been throwing you piteous looks from his spot across the room, where he hasn’t had the chance to move an inch with the amount of people keeping the conversation going. You’ve slipped to his side a few times, refreshing his drink, letting him curl an arm around your waist as you perch on his knee, only half-focused on whatever story some producer is saying as Eddie’s hand trails up your thigh. 
You’re back on the nearest wall again, sipping champagne, taking it all in. There are probably over a hundred people crammed into this banquet room, bass thumping through the floorboards, tables shoved to the outer corners making space for a makeshift dance space. 
The air is hazy with smoke from various cigarettes and joints; as the night has progressed, the smell of freshly-applied cologne has been replaced with heady sweat as the dance floor calls more people to writhe and grind in groups and partners. Eddie is still stuck in the lone pod of living room chairs, surrounded by a rapt audience of people crammed in to hear him better over the blaring music.
He looks damn good tonight, in a cut-off black tee and his favorite ripped jeans, leather jacket hung on the chair behind him. Silver catches the light from every angle- on the chains at his hips, around his neck, glinting off his rings as he gestures animatedly mid-story. He’d asked you to do his eyeliner at the hotel earlier, and although it’s smudged and blurred at the edges now he’s still pulling it off. Tiny silver stars, hand-drawn with your eyeshadow brush, twinkle across his cheeks like freckles.
Eddie wanted to match with you, whined until you added a belt made of gold-plated stars to your outfit. You went simple, the gold to his silver- belt cinching your short black satin slip dress, delicate brass rings and bracelets around your fingers and bare forearms. The one piece of silver you are wearing is a chain around your neck, Eddie’s guitar pick nestled snug between your breasts. 
You still resolutely refuse to wear heels, even after Eddie’s stylist cajoled you into practicing on stilettos for a disastrous media training session last month- tonight you’re in a chic pair of Mary Janes with the slightest suggestion of a heel. Compromise. 
There’s a big laugh from the crowd in the corner again as Eddie knocks a hand into Gareth’s chest for emphasis, nearly knocking the younger boy off his seat. You stare unabashedly at Eddie’s forearms, biceps on full display; he’s filled out a bit since leaving home, his usually lean frame boasting a bit more weight and bulk now that he’s got consistent access to well-rounded meals. 
He’s looking healthy, down right glowy. You’re thinking about that smattered trail of dark hair that slides down the crest of his stomach, now with extra padding enough to sink your teeth into. As if he knows, Eddie catches your eye from across the room and winks, cheekily. 
You shiver and unconsciously press your thighs together, hiding your grin with another swallow of champagne.
The alcohol turns a bit sour going down, though, as a crimped-haired blonde girl worms her way to Eddie’s side, laughing a little too loudly at the joke he just told. When she places a manicured hand on one of his shoulders, the thin stem of your glass nearly snaps in your grip.
The thing about rockstars is they have crazy sex appeal. The thing about your rockstar is he’s only interested in you, something that has been proved many times over.
So why is tonight hitting you so hard? Why do you feel nauseous the longer Eddie lets some random woman’s hand stay on his bare skin when you know he’s going home with you, and only you?
Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the overcrowded room, or the memories of Benny’s diner still lingering like a bruise in your mind. Hard to pinpoint exactly. All you know is that jealousy is gnawing like a thing raw and seeking in the pit of your stomach, and if you don’t get out of this stuffy room soon you’re gonna do something tabloid-worthy, like cry in the middle of a New Year’s Eve party.
By the grace of some god you make it across the dance floor and into a side bathroom unscathed, the pulsing sound of the party blissfully dimming as you shut the door behind you. Your mind whirls as you grip the gilded sink for stability, blinking hard at the tears beginning to form. 
You love having a boyfriend who’s larger than life. You love that he’s taking up space and getting to use that charm that was nurtured on the DM throne back in Hawkins. You’re so proud of him, you really are. 
You’re just starting to hate the way other people’s surface-level love of him makes you feel.
Because that’s what it is, right? Just surface-level, you reason with yourself- the level of intimacy that you and Eddie have is unmatched, something that the newly-formed masses of admirers won’t ever get to experience.
Christ, can jealousy give you hives? You grab a handful of paper towels and soak them in cold tap water, then press the damp bundle to your chest, breath stuttering.
You’ve never been the jealous type, or the overbearing type- it’s a new feeling, and maybe that’s why it feels so scary. The more you try to tamp it down, the more it rears its ugly head, making you, in turn, feel embarrassed for having such a strong reaction in the first place.
It’s a vicious cycle that’s only seeming to gain speed as you realize you haven’t yet managed a full breath since coming to your hiding spot. Your lungs are pinched and burning as you drop the soggy paper into the sink, leaning into the lip of the porcelain to steady yourself.
There’s a knock on the door, and you choke out “Just a minute”, not sure if the person on the other side can even hear you over the music when Eddie’s voice leaks through.
“Baby? That you in there?”
Against your better judgment, you open the door, and he crams in the small space, locking it again behind himself.
“There you are, I saw you leave and thought you were getting a drink or something but then you didn’t come back and- are you okay?”
He interrupts his own stream of consciousness when he notices the state you’re in. You give him a trembly smile, waving a hand dismissively.
“Yeah, all good. I’ll come back with you, just needed to pee.”
Eddie is not so easily thrown off the scent. He murmurs your name, sliding his hand into yours, looking at you with a wounded puppy gaze- fuck, you can’t have a breakdown. Not here, not on New Year’s in some knockoff-Playboy’s bathroom.
And certainly not in front of Eddie, who’s asking you to tell him what’s wrong, what happened, with an increasingly pleading tone that’s really, really not helping your whole Don’t Cry agenda. 
Hoping your voice doesn’t break, you clear your throat and pull your hand from his grasp. “Nothing happened, okay? I just had too much to drink, feeling overly sentimental or something. I’m okay.”
You think your white lie was convincing enough when Eddie reaches back for the door handle, that maybe he’ll rejoin the party and leave you to have a good cry, but after poking his head out the doorway briefly he grabs onto your wrist, tugging you to his side and hissing “Quick!”
And then you’re both making a break for it down the mostly-empty hallway, Eddie pulling you smoothly past a wall of expensive-looking oil paintings before going through a set of double doors that lead to the outside.
It’s December in Chicago, which means a light layer of snow covers the terraced garden that Eddie is leading you through, stopping at a stone bench flanked by two scraggly bushes. 
“Made it,” he huffs with exertion, dropping your hand to shrug his leather jacket off in favor of draping it around your own shoulders.
“You’re gonna be cold,” you sniffle, partly from the tears, partly from the crisp night air.
“Yeah,” he agrees easily, wrapping you in a hug. You press your forehead to his chest. “Got my girl to keep me warm, though.”
You stay like this for a few moments, his arms solid around you, breaths coming easier as the familiar smell of his tangy skin and that spicy bar soap he uses fills your senses.
“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, gently, holding you at arm’s length to study your face.
When you shrug, unsure of where to start, he lets go of you and walks backwards, taking an unflinching seat on the snow-covered bench.
You gasp despite yourself, reaching to pull him up even as he twists out of your grasp- “Eddie, jesus, you’re literally gonna freeze your ass off. Get up!”
But he’s solid in his seat, widening his stance, boots planted on the ground- “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, so you better start talking before my jeans freeze to the concrete.”
“It’s nothing,” you insist, but he’s giving you that look again, the one that cracks through the tough exterior every time, and you wrap your arms around yourself under the warmth of his jacket as you admit, “Okay, fine. It’s something. I’m just… having an overreaction.”
“To the shellfish?” he deadpans.
“No, asshole, to the blonde girl who was rubbing up on you earlier,” you snap.
Eddie blinks, genuine confusion in his voice- “There was a blonde girl… rubbing up on me?”
“She was petting your shoulder,” you continue, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the ground. “She was touching you, and I got- jealous, I guess.”
“Baby, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t remember her, at all,” Eddie emphasizes, spreading a palm flat against his chest in a gesture of sincerity, hair shifting across his shoulders as he cocks his head to the side.
His face is too familiar, too earnest for you to be able to say what you’re feeling without bursting into tears, so you turn on your heel, pacing a short loop in front of the bench, your breath hanging in misty clouds as you speak. 
“It’s not even about her, necessarily. It’s about me and my stupid emotions. I’m not usually like this- jealous, you know? Like, I’m so proud of you, and everything you’ve accomplished, and I don’t mind sharing you, really I don’t, it’s just…”
You pause in your pacing, let your head drop back to look at the inky black sky pinpricked with stars, and your next words fall out like a confession.
“I just feel like I’m in mourning.”
You can feel his eyes on you still, as you loose the feeling that’s been caught tight in your chest. “It sounds so dramatic, when I say it like that. But I think that’s what it is. I miss when it was just the two of us, in this little bubble where no one knew our names and we just had each other.”
As the words leave your mouth, you scramble to explain, to soften the blow, hands tightening around your upper arms as you turn back to face the boy on the bench. “And I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, or, like, a total jealous bitch, because I really love you and I hope you know I’m not- are you laughing?”
Eddie tries his best to stifle the laughter into his fist when he sees how indignant you look. He rises from the bench, still a bit mirthful, pulling you back into his space. “Sorry, honey, I’m not making fun of you, I promise.”
You’re glaring at him now, and he ducks to kiss at the lines between your brow before pulling back and saying, “I think what you’re feeling is normal, and I don’t think you’re overreacting at all. Remember that asshole at the Smith Center party who kept trying to get your number right in front of me?”
“Vaguely.”
“I wanted to punch his lights out. Make a real scene, kiss you sloppy in front of some cameras.” Eddie cups your face in his hands, soothing his thumb against the wetness of your lashline. “What I’m saying is, I get jealous, too. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”
“But…” there’s a well of emotions that you’re drawing from, and it’s not empty yet, one nagging thought still surfacing. “But these girls that are coming on to you, they’re like… really hot. I don’t look anything like them.”
Eddie frowns. “Are you seriously trying to make a case for yourself on the grounds of not being really hot? That’s not gonna hold up in court, gorgeous. I mean… have you even looked in a mirror recently?”
He lightly taps his knuckle against your head, trying to get you to crack a smile, but you’re not ready to give in yet. 
“You don’t think you’ll get bored of me?” you whisper, dropping your eyes from his consuming gaze to the wyvern inked on the inside of his arm. 
“Sweetheart…” Eddie sounds genuinely pained. The ink in his skin stretches as he slips a hand to the back of your neck, cold rings against your skin making you shiver. “I couldn’t ever get bored of you. Not in a million years. We've been through too much together for you to think like that, hm?”
He strokes his thumb down the column of your neck, those doey brown eyes on you again. “Now I’m not saying you shouldn’t ever be jealous, ‘cuz god knows it makes me hot under the collar when you are. But I’m sayin’ I never wanna make you feel like you need to earn me, okay?”
His thumb tracks back up to the hollow of your jaw, taps twice questioningly, and you nod, letting out a shaky, “Okay.”
When he kisses you, it feels like every other time- comfortable, grounding, familiar. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips, and you let him lick into your mouth, gripping at his arms, flushing hot as you give it back to him in spades.
With a short groan, he pulls back, a wet click as your mouths separate- “As much as I wanna jump your bones in this wintry wonderland, I think the snow might’ve actually frozen my balls off.”
You giggle, spanning your hands around the meat of his waist, kissing up into his mouth again- “Poor baby. Want me to warm ‘em up in my mouth?”
He gives a solid smack to your ass for that, his palm smoothing over the stinging skin with condescension when you yelp- “All dish and no take, baby? Not exactly fair.”
____
Despite your weak protestations that you both should probably rejoin the party, at least until midnight, Eddie insists on taking you back to the hotel. 
“This party blows, anyways,” he says over his shoulder to you as he leads you back through the halls of the house. “If I hear one more Tears for Fears track I might throw myself into the river from one of the hundred balconies in this place.”
He manages to track down Melanie with some effort, winding his way through the throng of people to where she’d been chatting with a reporter, plucking at her elbow to get her away from the crowd and into the quieter hallway with you.  
“We gotta scoot, Mel,” he tells her, really hamming up the charm as the young publicist widens her eyes. “Think you can get us a ride outta here?”
“Mr. Munson, you can’t just leave,” Melanie insists, frazzled. “Someone from Rolling Stone has been waiting for the last hour to talk to you, if you could just-”
“No can do.” Eddie shakes his head, mock-apologetic. “There’s been an accident. Of a personal nature.”
You manage to choke down your laughter as Eddie turns around to show off the dark stains on the back of his jeans. They’re just wet from the snow that he sat in earlier, of course, but it looks convincing enough to make Melanie blanch and pinch the bridge of her nose.
“I’ll have a cab out front in ten for you both. Please keep a low profile until then.”
Eddie gives a sharp salute and you mouth an apology at her before she retreats to find a phone.
Okay, so maybe add a hefty bonus to that Nice Things for Melanie list of yours. 
____
One of the perks of having a rockstar for a boyfriend is the sweet digs- the label shelled out for Chicago’s finest penthouse suite; an entire luxurious upper floor with a private elevator, windows overlooking the far-below city lights, and a sunken bath big enough for two.
Also included? Soundproof walls.
A perk you’re very grateful for as Eddie walks you backwards into the room, sucking a mark with stinging teeth into your neck as you moan, then giggle breathily, admonishing- “Christ, Eddie, slow down. We have all night.”
Eddie pulls back just far enough to frown down at you, his hands slipping under the hem of your dress to squeeze at your ass. His rings are cold against your bare flesh, and he grins when you shiver. “Uh huh. Sure do have all night. You gonna take advantage of that?”
He wiggles his eyebrows, cheekily, but that smirk drops from his face in record time the second you shove him to the bed. As his knees give out in favor of sitting on the mattress, you steady your hands against his broad shoulders to swing yourself into his lap.
Eddie’s looking up at you, cinnamon eyes darkened with lust- it makes your stomach flip something awful. Your skin feels alight with heat as Eddie’s hands drip like water down your sides, then to your parted thighs.
You sigh into his mouth as his fingers trace the front of your underwear, the silk sticky with your arousal.
“Oh, baby,” Eddie says, equal parts admonishment and pitying as you squirm into his touch. “What’s got you this worked up, hm?”
He’s asking like he doesn’t know- like he didn’t tease you with filthy whispers and wandering hands in the back of the car the whole way here. 
“Whaddya think,” you scoff, not quite ready to give in yet, enjoying the thrill of being cagey as Eddie hooks a finger to tuck your panties to the side.
He grins, simmering, enjoying the chase just as much as you. His middle finger swipes through your folds and you shudder in his arms, hands tightening into the meat of his shoulders as he brings the wetness up to your clit.
Eddie rubs quick, steady circles until you’re mewling, bucking hips grinding down to seek more friction. You can feel the wetness seeping out of your core, dampening his jeans as he licks back into your mouth, capturing the soft noises you’re making as he winds you up.
“Can’t believe a pretty thing like you has anything to be jealous of.” Eddie noses at the spot under your jaw, and when you let your head fall back on a hinge to grant him access, he sucks another mark into the column of your throat. “‘M all yours, sweetheart. You gonna take what’s yours?”
Truth be told, your mind went fuzzy the second Eddie got his hands on your clit, the consistent build of pleasure sparking between your legs rather distracting. You’d almost forgotten how the night had started, but you let the jealousy and possessiveness creep back in as you push at Eddie’s chest.
He goes down easily, toeing his boots off and lying flat on the mattress; big hands settle on your waist as you rest your weight into him, warm cunt pressing against the bulge of his clothed cock.
At a light drag of your nails against his bare chest and across his nipple, Eddie groans low, squeezing your hips and rucking into you.
“You’re all mine, Eddie, right?” 
His pupils nearly eclipsing their soft brown irises, Eddie stares up at you like you hang the moon and stars every night just for him. “Yeah, sweetheart. ‘M all yours. Lemme show you.”
Eddie pulls at the backs of your legs, helping you shuffle up his body until your knees are dipping into the mattress at either side of his head. Your core hovers just above Eddie’s mouth- you can feel his breath speed up on the inside of your thigh at this new position. 
“Oh, fuck, Eddie- jesus… christ,” the last word ending in a moan as Eddie’s tongue licks a wet stripe through your folds. 
He pulls you closer with an arm over each thigh until you’re sitting on his face, his nose hitting your clit with each tilt of his head. You’ve got no idea how he’s able to breathe down there but you’re hardly able to hold onto that thought when his tongue has started plunging in and out of you.
Automatically, your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself- one hand goes to the headboard and the other ends up in his hair, gripping the roots hard. Eddie groans, sending vibrations that make your cunt clench around his lithe tongue.
“Like the taste of my pussy, baby?” you coo down at him, regaining some of your breath to give him attitude. 
Reaching a hand back to palm at his cock, you say “No one else can have you like this, hm?”
Eddie catches your eyes as he mouths wetly at your clit, then sucks it into his mouth. Your thighs shake around his ears, your orgasm unfurling in clenching ripples.
“Oh, yeah, Eddie, fuck, I’m coming- just like that, fuck fuck fuck…”
He doesn’t stop suckling at you until you’re gushing around his mouth, then pulling him off by his hair to make him stop.
Eddie heaves in a breath, kissing at the inside of your thigh, his lips and chin shiny with your release. “God, baby. Such pretty noises for me.”
“Mhm.” You shuffle down until your hips are aligned over his, then lean in to lick his mouth clean. “Gonna make some pretty ones for me, now?”
After helping pull his shirt off, Eddie whines softly as you press kisses down his bare chest, and by the time your mouth is pressing over that dark trail of hair that leads into his denim, Eddie’s begging.
“Please, angel, please- need your mouth. Do anything for it, baby, please…”
You rub your cheek against his bulge before pulling back to pop the button on his jeans, then help him shift them down and off his body. Once his black briefs join the growing pile of floor clothes, Eddie’s completely bare and at your mercy.
He gets on his elbows to watch as you mouth at the inside of his thigh, dark hair splayed around his shoulders, chest heaving when you ignore his leaking cock in favor of grazing your teeth against a sensitive spot. “Fuckin’- christ, sweetheart. Come on. Please?”
“Sound pretty when you beg,” you say, mildly, kissing across his heavy sack, hiding a smile when the contact makes him jolt. “Gonna do it some more?”
You keep eye contact as you take one of his balls into your mouth, watching his own eyes roll back so far you can see the whites of them as you use your tongue on him. 
“-yeah, baby, yeah- just like that- fucking, fuck, you’re killin’ me…”
Eddie sounds wrecked already, and a hot flush of pride courses through your body at the knowledge that he could come from just this and it’d be you getting him there. 
You mouth over to the other side of his sack, rolling the skin wiry with coarse hair against your tongue as Eddie moans above you. When your hand wraps around the base of his cock, starting to move in tandem with the pull of your mouth, Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched.
A line of drool breaks and hits wet against your chin as you straighten up, settling yourself into the V of his legs and using his thighs as handholds while you begin to kiss up the line of his leaking cock.
He’s got a gorgeous dick, truly. Thick and long, curving slightly to the right, a pretty blue vein snaking up the underside that you lathe your tongue against, seeking out the salty brine at the ruddy head.
Eddie moans, brokenly, white-knuckled hands twisting into the sheets. When your mouth closes around the tip, his elbows give out, leaving him flat against the mattress as you work his length further in.
“Oh my god. Oh, fuck, baby. Please don’t stop. Please. Y’feel so good…”
You hum around the stretch of him in your mouth, relaxing your throat to draw him in a bit more. The spiky jealousy from earlier really is your biggest motivator here; covetous, you’re thinking back to all those first times with Eddie- trembling hands under your bedsheets back in Hawkins, stilted voices and giggles to cover up the awkwardness of trying to learn the other person’s body.
No one will ever know him like you do. No one will ever have all that shared history, those fumbling nights that slowly turned to lovesick days; memories of him on his knees for you, learning all the little things that make you tick, memorizing the song of your body.
The boy is all yours. 
Your throat automatically constricts at the intrusion of Eddie’s cock slipping past your soft palate- his hips cant up, which you can hardly fault him for, patient as he’s been with your retrospective and teasing.
Before he can apologize you’re sitting up, wiping at the excess drool with the back of your hand and shucking your dress over your head, letting it and your belt fall to the floor with a soft clunk.
Eddie reaches for you again as you slide your panties down and off, and you let him help you up his body, your knees coming to rest alongside the lightly raised scar tissue at his sides. You stroke a hand down his chest, giving in to a moment of softness before seating yourself fully in Eddie’s lap.
His hands snap to your hips, a near-brutal squeeze as you sink onto his cock. The stretch is always an adjustment, but you’re so wet right now that he slides in easily, a breathy moan from the both of you as the walls of your cunt fit snug around his sizeable length.
“Fuck, you’re perfect.” The crown of Eddie’s head is pressed back into the bed, veins in his taut neck on full display as your hips start to swivel, blunt nails scraping into the soft flesh of your waist. “Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck me.”
With your knees planted on either side of his body, you begin to bounce in steady, rhythmic earnest, going for gold, the desire to bring your boy to the babbling edge overtaking every other thought.
“Feel so good, Eds, so big… can barely fit…” There’s a wet squelch accompanying each bounce now, slick dripping down to the base of his cock, your vice of a cunt flexing with every movement.
“S’all you, baby,” Eddie rasps out, toes curling in the efforts to keep his orgasm at bay for awhile longer. “Got a perfect pussy. Takin’ me so well.”
He’s almost in delirium territory, with you chasing after that bright unwinding pleasure at both of your cores; your hips stutter, hands flat on Eddie’s chest to center yourself, a hunger that you can’t seem to satiate gnawing at the edges.
Eddie notices immediately, feels the falter in your motion and brings his hands to your forearms, rubbing a path up them soothingly- “What’s wrong, angel, hm?”
You’re not sure how to put it into words, wishing (not for the first time) that you could just rest your forehead against his and transmit all the complexities of your emotions through touch alone. 
Instead, you sigh out the name that you use when you’re done with taking, a name that lights Eddie up from head to toe as you say it- “Teddy.”
In one swift movement, Eddie slips an arm behind your back and flips you to the mattress, his hair a curtain around both your faces as he leans in to whisper against your mouth- “Teddy’s got you. Arms around me.”
You’re quick to obey, looping your arms around Eddie’s wide shoulders. He slides one hand up the back of your leg, pushing a knee up until it’s at your chest, mouth dropping open briefly when the new angle allows the head of his cock to kiss against that gummy upper wall of your cunt.
“Bored of you,” he huffs, recalling your words from earlier with disdain. “You’re talkin’ to the guy who memorized the first six chapters of The Hobbit just to recite for your bedtime.”
A quick thrust of his pelvis into yours has your stomach clenching in anticipation, brows on a tilt and knitting together as Eddie grins down at you. “Got a wicked attention span, baby. Lemme show you.”
He starts slow, agonizingly so, every inch of his thick cock dragging in and out, wetness pooling down your ass and probably the sheets, too; errant thoughts of housekeeping are rapidly erased as Eddie begins snapping his hips into yours in faster tempo.
He’s working to find that spot, the one that turns your brain to mush and is guaranteed to cause full-body muscle fatigue from the force of your orgasm. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pushing into Eddie’s chest, one arm still supporting your lower back as he laughs hoarsely, half-amazement and half-pride.
“That’s the spot, huh, sweetheart? Atta girl. M’all yours. Take it. Good girl…”
With each thrust, the wiry patch of hair dusted across Eddie’s pubic bone grinds slick and filthy against your clit. You’re so close to the edge now, a wave of pleasure cresting as you look up at Eddie.
There are two thin tracks of black makeup trailing down his face from where tears have made a mess of his eyeliner; rosy spots of flushed color in his cheeks, eyes like twin pools of chocolate, locked with yours as he rocks into you. 
He’s learned the song of your body so well, knows every chord to strike- his hand leaves your leg to grasp at your breast, calloused palm against pebbled nipple sending more shockwaves through your body, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you sing for him.
“All yours,” you gasp out, and it feels like victory when his hips stutter and the cresting wave crashes around you both at the same time.
The pleasure roils through your gut, clit throbbing and cunt spasming around Eddie’s cock as he spills into you. 
A wrecked, broken string of moans leaves you as you ride out the highs together. Eddie presses his forehead to your collarbone as he chants your name, twitching out the last of his spend, warmth blooming inside. 
The quiet that follows is filled with shaking breaths, soft kisses, murmurs of “good job, sweetheart” as you both float back down to earth.
Eddie stays in you for longer than usual, his draped weight a grounding comfort as you trail gentle fingertips up and down his skin, lovingly against the scars that interrupt the smooth flesh of his back. Through the closed windows, you can hear the distant sounds of car horns and the deep boom of fireworks. 
Sometime in the last foggy hour of lovemaking, 1987 has given way to a new year. 
Eddie pulls his heavy head up from your chest to press kisses to your collarbone. “Happy new year, lover.”
You tuck his hair behind his ears, hands squishing lightly at his cheeks to bring his face close enough for a kiss. “Happy new year to you. Hell of a way to kick it off.”
Eventually, Eddie extricates himself from the intoxicating heat of your body (with minimal whining) and brings a warm washcloth to tenderly wipe away the mess between your thighs. Once you’re both cleaned up, he stretches out against the sheets, pulling the covers up as you hook a leg around his waist and snuggle in. 
“So I was thinking,” he starts, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I wanna take a trip back to Hawkins. Before the tour.”
Your hand stills in its rhythmic circles against Eddie’s chest; heart in your throat, you tilt your chin up so you can gauge Eddie’s reaction. “...yeah?”
“Yeah.” Eddie picks up your hand on his chest, twining his fingers with your as his other hand settles on your bare hip beneath the sheets. “Could visit Wayne for a few days, fool around in that twin bed like we’re teens again.”
He grins at your giggle, taps playfully at your hip- “Gonna parade you around all our old haunts. You’ve gotten even hotter since we left, babe. Gotta really rub it in the faces of those Hawkins Tigers burnouts whose best dates are their own left hands.”
You snort, and Eddie looks pleased again, but then sobers a bit before saying- “I mean, I’ve got my piece of home with me. But I think it could be good, to visit. Just the two of us.”
You’re quiet for a moment, a longing for home that you’ve managed to ignore these past few years resurfacing. “Can we get high and go to that diner? I mean, Nell’s isn’t as good as Benny’s was, but I’ve been craving a Hawkins milkshake.”
“Christ.” Eddie hides his smile in the crook of your neck, dimples springing to life. “You could ask for the Mona Lisa and I’d find a way to get it to you. Fries and a milkshake, that all I need to keep my girl happy?”
“Yeah,” you reply, a contented noise as Eddie settles against your chest again. “That’s all I need.”
___
thank u thank u for reading if you made it this far have a little kiss from me to you <3 xx lulu
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m1ngyuism · 3 months
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i still can‘t fathom the fact that gyu is just so /big/ like everything abt him is bigger yk? like the only thing that‘s in my mind is him size training you to take his cock bc it just won‘t fit :( bc even tho ur struggling ur determined to take it and he‘s just chuckling under his breath saying how proud he is of his baby 🥺 i love thinking abt him sm
anon pay for my therapy bills bc this is driving me insane like ??!?@?!@?
thinking about nights spent with mingyu where he'll fuck you with anything but his cock, and while it's for your own good, it makes you more and more desperate for him...
he'll finger you over and over again, his thick and pretty fingers reaching all the right spots in you before he fucks you with a dildo, which is honestly a joke when compared to how big mingyu's cock is.
when the time comes where you finally convince mingyu you can take it and he's pressing into your tight cunt, he can't help but smile to himself.
the way his big fat cock is just slowly sliding into your tight cunt, the way you quiver and whine with each inch he pushes into you, and the gleam of determination and lust in your eyes is just all too hot for him.
and while it still hurts a bit, mingyu makes sure to distract you from that by kissing you all over your body, whispering "that's it, take it like a good girl" and "so proud of you, baby" in your ear.
and when he's finally in you all the way, he takes you to heaven and back with how good he fucks you the rest of the night,, the training was definitely worth it now that you've gotten the real thing <333
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qtkoshi · 1 year
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Maybe gn!Reader and Hobie adopt a kitten and the other three (Pavitr, Gwen, and Miles) come to see the kitten? Maybe a orange kitten gn!Reader wanted to name Spunk or Spike while Hobie gave them a spike collar? Would be cute lol
i luv ur brain anon
"you got....a kitten?"
- ok ok idk if this is what u meant, but u can feel free to run this with the bubblegum reader + hobie bc i think it fits alright :-) - also get a little deep with describing relationship,, but it’s necessary for the plot ! (...) - also!!! tysm for the requests; i am very excited to get into them, but will prob wait till tmrw to release bc it is my birthday today <3 much love to you all
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──★ ˙ ̟ to the stars !
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general headcannons
alright first of all: hobie with a kitten? i’m in tears. 
i love the hc that hobie has a soft spot for cats and the fact that y’all got one together? bye.
NAPS WITH THE KITTEN JUST NESTLED BETWEEN BOTH OF YOU
this cat is gonna be SPOILED in attention i tell u rn
hobie isn’t as obvious ab it as u, but the amount of times u see him chilling with the cat just perched on his shoulder?? (why are u taking the baby swinging across the city hobie; wait a min now–)
how u got him
imagine this: ur walking past an alley and hear this small little meow; after further investigation you find this tuft of orange fur crying outside the dumpster and
now u gotta take it in what r u talking about!!
bringing him home immediately ; hobie's spidey senses prob picked up the cat's presence before you got in the door.
'baby what's that.' 'c'mon spiderman we got saving to do'
man can't even argue with you
hobie not naming the cat himself bc he doesn’t wanna enforce socio-constructed labels on an unsuspecting creature that can’t consent
u can tho.
and while you very much want to, you tell hobie you gotta think on it for a bit – it has to fit just right!! (tbh he rlly doesn’t mind the cat being nameless, but he’s kinda whipped and will kinda go with what u want if it helps give that pretty lil smile to him again)
spider-squad finding out ab him
the besties r wrapping up something with a fight and hobie’s all k gotta leave and check on the cat and the rest are like ????? 
pav absolutely floored bc how dare did u not mention this sooner hobie
'so you lot wanna come see him?' (inter-dimensional travel ensues) – also never gonna complain ab coming to hobie’s house they all think his place is dope
i’m sure we all know orange cats are fucking crazy and that does not exclude the little gremlin jumping off the walls of your flat rn
hobie ofc is smirking bc his son the cat is a little agent of chaos and he couldn’t be more proud 
you, on the other hand, are just a little tired trying to get the fucker to stay still for a second so u can put on the damn flea medicine
everybody loves him are u kidding (miles a little hesitant tho, he still has beef with the last spiderman-variant cat he met :/ ) 
“so whats its name?” miles was watching with wary eyes as the little ball of fur darted around. with a heavy (and definitely not dramatic) sigh, you walk over to the group “still haven’t picked. we just found him yesterday.”
luv the idea of hobie looking at u anytime ur in the room (stay with me now) — can’t help it u just grab all his attention, maybe stop being so lovely idk
speaking of your relationship: he has spent years battering against everything life throws at him that having your love in the palm of his hands? something to protect not in the way he does as a hero, but in the way to cherish as a person?? give the man a break, he deserves to admire you whenever he can.
anyways hobie’s looking at you before going ‘oh yea’, just grunts and pulls out this little collar with little spikes and their matching and oh my that is so cute
says he found it in some garbage, most def made the collar with some scraps like he did his own (gotta keep it cool yk)
you giddy and putting the collar on the little heathen and just all ‘omg wait a min’
promptly lifting the cat up and “THIS IS SPIKE.”
cue golf claps from the squad with some ooo’s and aah’s
more gen headcannons
remember when hobie and the cat were swinging around the city? yea he's taking that mf everywhere. puts him in his pocket like a little surprise
hobie loves to play fight with the cat
spike is the perfect mix; got hobie’s energy and your brightness it’s a win-win
i could write more but i'll stop here for now 🕸️
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mountainficss · 3 months
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my brainrot is u and chan in college, young and in love. unable to get ur hands off each other and always feeling racy, literally fucking like rabbits every chance u get
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i just had to add these pictures of chan in here because i just think he’s so attractive like i’m falling apart. anyway.
that is the most relatable thing i have ever read. it’s such a fitting concept for channie too. i feel like he’d be such a needy baby like that’s all i imagine him as. i’m sick anon that’s my brainrot too. in love with chan.
you two would be all over each other constantly, always touching and feeling and groping. you just can’t help it bc you love each other so much ;( you’d fuck him in his dorm while you’re on the couch, the movie you turned on forgotten and playing in the background. you’d bounce on his cock desperately, completely entranced by his gorgeous face illuminated by the faint light of the tv. he’d make the prettiest sounds for you as he grabs your waist, slightly sinking his nails into your flesh because of how good you feel around him ;( sweet channie would stuff you full of his cum before his roommate comes home, showering you with kisses afterwards.
he’d fuck you in your dorm while your roommate is in their bedroom next to yours, trying your best to keep quiet. you both knew it was a risky idea, but you just can’t help it </3 you’d be sprawled underneath him, a hand clamping over your mouth as the other fists through his hair to keep yourself grounded. his own hands would be wrapped around your warm body, his face buried in the crook of your neck ;( you’re both just so loud and needy that you have to muffle your moans or your roommate will hear! would feel so good when he abuses your sweet spot with his cock though ;( he’d whisper the dirtiest things in your ear too. “you’re so pretty. can’t stop fucking you…”
you’d even have sex with channie in an even riskier spot: the campus library! you’d both snag a private study room multiple times a week to catch up on homework, but you’d get a bit distracted sometimes. an innocent graze of hands would turn into sweet pecks, which would then turn into a heated make out session within seconds. the both of you would end up tugging clothes out of the way, shoving papers to the side so he can settle you on the table. neither of you would even bother completely undressing each other. wouldn’t give enough of a shit to lock the door either, you’d both just be too horny ;( the only thing in your minds would be the thought of fucking each other dumb. you’d shove your panties into his mouth to keep him quiet (bc honestly he’s sooo whiny, he needs it more than you </3), and he’d wrap your legs around his waist as he slides into your heat. he’d start with languid thrusts, but then would immediately speed up because you’re both too impatient to go slow. his hands would grip your thighs roughly as he pounds into you, and you’d let out the quietest sighs you could manage. you could tell he was getting close, but you were just as close as him. you’d grab his face harshly, pulling him towards you and shoving your other hand in his mouth to pull out your panties. he’d let out a confused sound, giving you a worried look. “i don’t care, channie.” you’d growl at him, carelessly discarding the soiled fabric onto the table. “moan for me. don’t care who hears you,” you’d smirk evilly, and his lewd moans would slip out right away. he’d pant like a fucking bitch in heat, his flushed cheeks only making him look cuter </3 he’d mutter nonstop about how bad he wants you and how he’s obsessed with you inside and out. “love you, love you, love you…wanna—ngh—wanna f-feel you like this every day!”
you’d be so in love you can’t help fucking like horny teens every day ;(
taglist: @imprettyweird , @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @c-hanniehae , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag , @writingbarnes
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megistusdiary · 6 days
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ur favorite dehya anon is here miauuuu :3 i was pondering about it but since dehya is catlike, she'd have heat cycles methinks and i feel like during those she just wants to breed you nonstop sighhh i want her so bad - 🦁
omg hi pookie, welcome back. i also agree, and i hope it's ok that i made dehya a lion hybrid in this :3
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𝖉𝖊𝖍𝖞𝖆 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖙
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dom!lioness dehya x sub!fem reader
warnings: smut (mdni), wlw content, breeding kink, strap usage (cum-filled...), reader in 'kitty' outfit, lioness!dehya in heat, size difference, cunnilingus + fingering, tail-plug insertion
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you stand in the mirror, assessing your body and fiddling with the delicate lace lingerie.
is this too much? archons, you feel silly all dolled up like this. would she even like it? would it make her feel strange? she isn't a housecat, after all, she is a lioness.
you smooth your shaky hands down your exposed sides, adjusting the light blue fabric of the bra, followed by the elegant little collar, the bell softly chiming, finishing with fluffing up your soft kitty ear headband.
"this... is ridiculous." you sigh, though you're startled from your thoughts by a knock at the bedroom door.
"are you in there, sweetheart?" dehya asks through the door. you can hear how sultry her voice is, despite the exhaustion from her long day.
"yes!" you squeak quickly, holding the bell to prevent it from making noise as you rush to the door, hand hesitating over the knob.
the moment you open the door, she's on you, pulling you in before you can register her touch. "are you purposefully trying to tempt me?" she grunts into your hair, feeling you shiver.
"you...like it?"
she pulls away, guiding your chin up to meet her gaze, seeing her eyes dilate when she looks at you. "you have no idea how much i want you." she mumbles, leaning down to capture your lips.
her tongue is slightly rough (thank her lioness genes) as it rubs over yours, coaxing out pathetic little mewls and whines from you. she backs you into the bedroom, kicking the door shut with a harsh slam before pressing you up against the wall.
she lifts you, like you weigh nothing at all, continuing to kiss you fervently, stealing your breath right from the source.
her lips trail down your neck, sharp fangs teasing your skin, lapping over the tender flesh with her roughened tongue. "may i have you?" she grunts. "please?"
she sounds so sweet, despite how clearly she is restraining herself, claws digging into your skin. "yes." you answer breathlessly, gasping when she lifts you, tossing you onto the bed.
she leans up, looming over you. there's something different in the way she looks at you, with those cute little ears on your head. she bites her lip, her cunt grinding against your ass as if she could breed you herself.
"a kitty..." she comments, stroking your cheek, gentle compared to her rutting against you. "such a pretty girl."
"there... are other um... gifts for you." her fluffy ears perk up at your soft words, letting you sit up.
you crawl across the bed, digging through the drawer to retrieve two boxes. "one, i guess i need help with. the other, you'll know what to do with."
she tears open the first box, seeing a fluffy white tail matching the ears, connected to a shiny plug meant to fit snugly into you. her heart races at the thought of seeing you with both the tail and ears, how you really would look like such a good little kitty under her.
"i haven't tried to put it in yet, so-"
"i'll handle it." she interrupts, ripping into the second box. this one has her shakily exhaling as she removes the bottle.
it's for the strap you had gotten her for her birthday; the fillable one.
this new bottle was supposed to mimic thicker cum, something that would stick, so to speak.
she looks up at you, her pupils nearly expanding to the size of her eyes. "this is- i..." she stumbles, shaking her head in disbelief and awe.
she drops both gifts onto the bed, attacking you with nips and kisses all the way down your body. she doesn't bother removing your panties, merely sliding them to the side to lap messily at your pussy.
you mewl beneath her, thighs squeezing her head as she indulges in you, nose pressed to your clit while her tongue wiggles its way into you. she groans, moving more eagerly tonight.
her fingers join in eventually, her tongue instead overstimulating your clit while her newly dulled nails rub your g-spot. she watches your every reaction, eyes narrowing at your little breaths and whimpers.
she wants to please you; her pretty little mate. she wants to prepare you well, to give you plenty of little kits with her. she wants to fill you up, to watch it bulge in your stomach and leak out of you.
after two orgasms have been coaxed out of you, she is more than eager to have you, positioning you perfectly on all fours. she gently pushes your back into a divine arch, peeling your panties down your thighs, using lube to slide around your other hole.
"is this okay?" she asks, though her breathing is labored. she's desperate to see it in you.
you nod into the blankets, looking back at her with such a pathetic little expression. "please... yes... want-"
she eases her fingers in first, carefully stretching you out. she takes her time, humping the bed while she does so. once she thinks you're ready, the plug slides in. she goes extra slow, letting you get accustomed to it until it sits perfectly in you.
she eyes the tail with interest, how it moves when you do. she moans softly, a shaky gasp as she holds your hips still.
she flings her clothes off, tearing your panties completely off, spreading your thighs for her to have a good look at you while she fills and puts on the strap. "you're beautiful..." she murmurs, sliding the strap up and down your soaked cunt, gathering your slick on her tip.
she slides in, feeling you squeeze around her, tighter than usual with the plug occupying your other hole and she grunts, nearly poking holes in your hips as she fucks you open.
the tail bounces, swinging with each thrust, only serving to egg her on more along with your pretty moans. the bell on your collar jingles so cutely, and her hand finds itself wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you clench around her.
she grows feral, fucking you with a purpose, rough enough to leave bruises as she treats you like a toy beneath her. you're so fragile, so delicate, but for now, you're her mate. you can take what she gives you.
her thrusts are angled deliberately into your g-spot, enjoying your melodic whimpers. "good girl, fuck-" she grunts, slamming into you, yanking you back against her like a little doll until you cum for her.
you cry out her name, clawing at the bedsheets while your kitty ears go lopsided. she fucks you right through it, pushing the limits until she can make you cum around her cock again.
"dehya- dehya- please!" you practically sob. "fill me!" you wail, like a real kitty in heat.
she shakes, fucking you harder until she finally decides it's time.
it does feel thicker, filling every part of you as you moan softly, twitching on the bed while she shoves herself as deep as she can go in you.
she licks over all the bites and clawmarks she's left, like a dutiful mate should, gently taking care of you, watching traces of the cum leak out around the cock stuffed in you.
"you look perfect. full of me. you'll take my kits well, sweetheart." she kisses your shoulders, gently easing out of you and watching the cum flood out. "but we can't have it all leaking out." she bites your shoulder, delighting in your yelp as she rips your bra off, shoving you into the bed while she prepares herself to fuck you yet again.
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hyperfixat · 2 months
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hey!! I really love ur blog so so much rn! If you can, I'd like to request a neurodivergent MC? One that has certain foods they hate and have never told anyone since their family had forced them to try them since they were little? (Ex. Cauliflower, brussel sprouts, blueberries, bananas, carrots) and so, one day, when theyre all eating (at the HoL or just out) and they notice MC eating all but those foods on their plate? Sorry if this is a bit too specific, I just really can't write it properly for myself and i would like to have some form of comfort-
Anyway, have an amazing day!!
anon i am holding you so close rignt now this cured my writers block this is the first ask i’ve got in like two months TT 
i am incapable of writing anything not hurt comfort so there is some ‘oh man im so sad :(‘ at the beginning but yk if u said u like my writing i imagine u kinda expected this
warning for mentions of throw up and actually eating the bad foods :(
and yes yes yes i love writing explicitly nd mcs!! i added in another obstacle to the req; freaky demon food bcs thats always fun to consider. That way u can kinda make the demon food similar to whatever food u want in ur mind, anyhow, the words u wanted;
/
You push the pile of purple (purple!?) mashed… something from one corner of your plate to the center.  First you had to go to a strange demon school where all of your peers are so much scarier and larger than you and now you’ve been presented with whatever the hell this is for dinner.
You think Leviathan (Levi — it feels so odd referring to him so casually having just met him) was the one that made it.  There was a protein on the plate, you ate that with no issues, but. 
Urgh. This?
It’s your second night sleeping in the House of Lamentation and you don’t feel nearly comfortable or safe enough to get a snack on your own, especially at night. You’ve had such a long day at RAD and your body is dying for some food.
Disguising your disgusted reluctance with a carefully blank face, your grab some of the.  The stuff. 
Ah, nope.  You set your fork down quietly after taking a slow bite / swallow and grab your cup to drown the leftover flavors and textures.  
Luckily all the demon brothers seem pretty into their dinnertime banter and didn’t notice your… less than satisfactory reaction to the food.
Gosh, you don’t want to offend any of them, especially not so early on in the year you’ll have to room with them.  
It’s a good thing that Beelzebub is practically a food vacuum and doesn’t question the nearly untouched pile of. Well you know. Left over on your plate.
/
…It’s official. You hate Devildom cuisine.  
Is the universe playing one big, cruel joke on you?  What the hell is wrong with demons?  Why must the eat the worst things in the world?  Why… why… why?
Lucifer wouldn’t let you starve under his roof, and provides you with full meals and makes it clear what parts of the kitchen are free to raid (as not to take anything designated to anyone else).  You feel like the most ungrateful human in the whole wide world right now.
It’s been quite a few months since the start of the exchange program and you’ve been… getting by.  Okay, that’s not exactly true, you’ve been having a blast in most aspects of your stay in the Devildom.  Most.
There’s still the teeny tiny issue of the cuisine not quite fitting your tastes.  You’ve tried talking to Solomon about the Devildom cuisine and he tried to cheer you up with some authentic human world cuisine, but as it turns out his cooking is far worse than Devildom-style food.
Not to be dramatic, but you’re suffering in silence.  You get by, as in you’re not hungry – the demons you’ve grown oh so fond of wouldn’t let that happen.  They always seem willing to fetch you anything.  
You’re trying so hard not to hurt any feelings, because you love them and want to support them.  It’s just.  You want to throw up almost every meal.  (Barbatos’ little treats have been your saving grace – he always seems to have some yummy little snack on him.  One that you like and doesn’t make you feel like your throat is crawling out of your mouth.)
Most of the time the brothers don’t pay much thought to what you leave on your plate – as long as you eat some of what was served they seem content.  Even on nights where the meal is more nasty than good, it’s easy to just say you’re not that hungry.
This night was bound to happen at some point.  Your plate is uneatable.  It’s edible, just uneatable.  It’d be more humiliating to choke down a few bites than it is to go to bed hungry.  You wrinkle your nose when you think no one is looking and stab at the meat chunk.
Your eyes are downcast and you drag your knife lazily through the food.  It’s mesmerizing in a way, so much so that you don’t notice at first when Asmo calls your name.
“MC, is something wrong? Are you feeling alright?”  At this point he’s drawn the attention of his brothers as well.
“Yeah, you’re barely eating,” Mammon supplies.
Ah, the moment you’ve been dreading and hoped you would never have to face.
“Oh, I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”  Which certainly isn’t a lie.  
“You didn’t eat much at lunch, hon.” Asmo reaches across the table to put the back of his manicured hand on your forehead to feel for a fever.
You cringe, “uhm, well.  I’m.”  You fail to think of a decent lie quick enough – nothing you say will be believable as you mentally blue screen.
“Honest answer?”  Satan prods.
“I’m not the biggest fan of some Devildom foods.” “Not the biggest fan?”  Beel questions, “you dislike them enough to forgo eating entirely.”  
“I’m trying not to sound like an ungrateful jerk right now.  Give me a moment to word this properly.”
Satan scoffs. “Just say it.  Whatever you have to say can’t be worse than what we’ve put you through.”
“Damn, okay.  The food makes me wanna throw up when I eat it.”
Levi, the chef of the night, folds in on himself, face darkening with shame or embarrassment.
“It’s not a personal gripe, most meals have something that makes me feel that way, hon.” It seems your attempt to comfort him isn’t appreciated though, as Levi shoves his face in his hands.
Lucifer sets his fork down. “And why haven’t you said anything to any of us about this?  We want you to feel at home here.”
“You can’t expect me to be comfortable barging into what was at the time a strangers house and demand they make special accommodations for me, then once I was comfortable enough to say something I felt I put up with it long enough that it’d be odd to bring it up out of nowhere.”
“Fair enough,” Satan nods along.
“No? Not ‘fair enough’!” Mammon scolds.  “You shoulda said something to me!  Do you even like half the snacks I give you?  I spent good Grimm on those!”
Memories of bribing Beelzebub to do certain errands in the earlier days of your Devildom stay flicker through your mind.  “They got eaten.”
“MC,” Lucifer brings the conversation back on track.  “Let us know foods you don’t want to eat, we may be demons, but we’re here to provide you with a comfortable stay.”  You nod under his sincere gaze.  “Now, give your plate to Beel and order some delivery.  I’ll cover the costs, as long as you eat.”  
As you shove your plate across the table you see Lucifer pulling a shiny black card from his coat pocket.  He gestures for you to come and take it.  You walk to the head of the table and he presses the card into your hand. 
“Order whatever you’d like.  My treat.”  There’s a glint of humor in his eyes and you look down to see Goldie in your palm.
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