#this has been floating in my brain for a while | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forthelostones · 1 day

Text

𝚙𝚝.𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 ; 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 ─── ⋆

⟡⋆˙୨ᥫ᭡. 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚞 - 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚢 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛ᥫ᭡.୧⋆˙⟡

synopsis: abby was a woman whose presence was becoming deeply irresistible to you. in your final year of nursing school, you toil with the idea of pursuing her — ruin what you have or enjoy what’s in front of you?

warnings. 18+ (mdni); sub!abby, domsub!abby, sexual themes, jealousy, fluff, nickname: dummy, and modern au - pre-established relation.

an: guys. this has been such a crazy ride, thanks for the support on both of my stories. it means so much to me. sorry for the wait... lets get it.

CLICK HERE.

(no y/n)

Abby watched from the row behind you, observing how you chewed on the end of that neon #2 pencil. She could tell by the bobbing of your leg that you were nervous and stuck on a specific question. It was the same during studying — chew, bob, sigh. Almost on cue, a frustrated sigh left your throat. She knew it was her fault that this was happening.

She knew neither of you studied long enough for you to feel confident on this exam. Well, that’s what she kept trying to convince herself, she was already finishing up the last page. Although her pencil glided on the paper effortlessly, she couldn’t help but be distracted by your indecisiveness on the math equations and multiple-choice questions. The once full eraser had been subsided to pure metal scrapping into the pages.

The time on her watch read ten minutes left until the end of the exam and you were only on page two. Studying had become harder for you with Abby around. It wasn’t only the dating component it was mostly the difference in your skills. Her ability to memorize vocabulary and complete math problems without thinking twice about them made you academically insecure. While you averaged low B’s and high C’s, she had a 4.0 and made it look easy. The clock's ticking distracts you from the problem you are trying to solve. It was one you and Abby worked on multiple times, yet you’re frozen, unsure how to solve it. As everyone flicks their pages to finish, you just … froze.

“Okay. Pencils down.” Your professor said just moments after you started a new equation. Your jaw dropped slightly and you squeezed your eyes shut. Abby shook her head, not at you specifically, but herself. You had practically moved in and the nights that would typically be spent studying were now used to learn more about each other beyond your friendship. Realistically, Abby understood that those moments would be worth more than a grade in the long run. But a part of her also resented getting this comfortable, ultimately impacting you. The feelings clashed within her. The heat forming inside of you could only be described as embarrassment. Why was it like your brain suddenly lost all power to its systems? It wasn’t unusual for you to skip a few questions but this was completely unlike you.

You chew on your cuticles and fold the mostly blank pages and pass them down to the front, doing the same for your classmates. Their pages crumbled with computation answers and confidently filled bubbles exposed your shortcomings. You should feel relieved that the test is over but you don’t. A heavy anchor grounded you but you were still floating. Abby met you down in your row where you saw her concealing another A-plus smirk. Once you both exited into the hall Abby’s hand finds the center of your back and she begins to pet it slowly. You shrug her away gently.

“Don’t.” You sigh.

Abby knew it would set you off but she did it anyway to show you she sees you. The blonde’s brain was moving at a rapid pace. She so deeply wanted to ask you about the challenging problems and the scenarios on the quiz. Her translucent lashes tapped frantically as she imagined the sheet of paper behind her eyes.

“I feel good about this one.” She finally says.

“Good. I really did not do well. It’s — whatever. Right?”

Abby looks to you and she couldn’t lie and tell you that it’s not just whatever. It’s your future. Both of your futures — together — it was important to Abby that her partner was just as successful as her.

“You should be happy that you did your best but understand that if you did do as bad as you think, it’s worth asking for a makeup to understand the material.” She suggested.

You hated when she got like this, rigid. Her posture was straight, her mouth set hard, and no softness found anywhere on her face. The regime her father instilled in her stayed and it was evident in moments like this.

“Abby, sometimes I really need you to just listen to me and be rational later.”

A chill followed down her spine following your sharp comment.

“Maybe we shouldn’t study together anymore.” She muttered.

Part of you wanted that to be a joke but knew it wasn’t. The night before proved itself to be deeply uneventful for the both of you.

“You’re distracting me.” You groan as you’re reviewing flashcards on Abby’s bed, the first mistake. She was wearing a thin, white tank top and a pair of loose black sweats, untied, on her hips. Her hair was drying from the shower you two just took and so was her body. The outline of her features was accentuated by the water being absorbed by the cotton. She was so casually beautiful and simply yours. The bed shifted behind you, her weight bending the mattress inwards, as she crawled towards you.

“Am I?” She asks, using the tip of her tongue to playfully lick a stripe of slick up towards your lobe. An instant bubble of relief popped inside of you. “Okay. Okay.”

Abby couldn’t take her eyes away from you. She had seen you in this robe every night now but it was something about how it was gliding with you. As well as your skin's glint from your body oil makes you look regal. You sat at the base of the bed while Abby retreated towards the headboard, leg tucked under her butt. She took off three inches of hair and it looked so fresh, carving out her face perfectly, and highlighting her stiff jawline. “How about we make a deal?” She said brazenly.

“What?”

“For each answer I get right you remove something?”

“Abby,” you chuckle, not denying her advances.

You thumb the index cards in your hand and turn to tie your eyes with hers.

“First question, the section is Anatomy and Physio. What best describes endocrine glands?” You ask.

Abby taps her chin as if she’s searching for the answer. “They secrete chemicals into the blood, growth, metabolism, sexual development and function.”

She raises her eyebrows and shoots her eyes towards your robe. A deal is a deal so you remove the silk, leaving you in your two-piece pajama set. Abby notices the goosebumps lining the outsides of your shoulders and can’t help but desire to rub them warm.

“Question number two. Anaerobic respiration can lead to a burning sensation caused by which molecule?”

“Easy,” she scuffed. “Lactic Acid.”

Her teeth appeared behind her Cheshire grin as your top found its way onto her floor.

“Good job.”

Your words made her cunt pulse.

“The mediastinum is located within which cavity?” You ask.

Abby’s face fell instantly. The outline of your nipples looked delicious and icy, she needed them in her palms immediately. “Fuck. I don’t know.”

You lift yourself off the bed and bend right in front of her to retrieve your shirt, Abby’s shadow overcame you and her hips thrust into your ass in one motion. She spins you around to face her, mouths inches away. “Do you think you’re going to actually put that back on?”

Her index finger traced the outline of your lips with her eyes following. You grip her wrist, halting her movements, “And if I do?”

Abby gently places the index cards neatly on her bedside table and presses you into the wall behind you. Usually, Abby is submissive but the stalking woman imposed her strength on you, like she’s been wanting to do from the first time she saw you in clinicals.

“I’ll just rip it off you.” She giggles.

“Would that be so bad?” You reply, bringing her finger into your mouth, sucking it then adding another. Abby huffed a keen groan as she bent down onto her knees, immediately pressing her mouth into your cunt. She lapped at the fabric separating her from you and didn’t even ask for you to remove them.

You insisted by beginning to take them off but she tore them off you and hoisting up one leg onto her shoulder following the other one.

“Abby.” You gasp.

“I got you, hold onto me.”

She was flexing her skill by fine-tuning your pussy with her tongue while she slowly hoisted you up towards the ceiling. Not only did you feel as if you were floating, you actually were. She was a show off but you fucking loved it.

After that, there was no more studying done.

“Do you think we should cut down on the time we're spending together?” You question, as the night replays in your mind.

Abby’s face scrunched up in immediate disapproval without hesitation at the suggestion. She pulled her bottom lip slightly in her mouth and looked around as if the walls suddenly grew eyes. Abby wanted to tell you no but she knew what had to be done.

“We can.” She grimaced with a shrug.

Despite all the time you spent together the girlfriend conversation had yet to come up. She thought about it the most when you were in her presence. She didn’t comprehend how you liked her so much and yet, you refused to make it official. She truly believed that once you ditched Ellie she’d be over the moon, but right now it’s feeling the same and Abby doesn’t do stagnant.

“Abby, we can still study together, in the library, several feet away from each other.”

She forced a smile. “Fine. Does this mean you’ll still sleepover?”

Before your crush on Abby developed you were denying yourself the fact that it was possible. But during this time, before the dating, your grades had been the best when you were alone, and you know for a fact, that it was because of her. You may not be as smart as Abby but you do want to come out on the other end with a degree too.

“Why don’t we come up with a schedule?” She suggests.

“That would be perfect.” You said.

The schedule consisted of dinners at Abby’s during the week, sleepovers on non-clinical days which were Wednesdays and Fridays, and studying every day at the library. Abby liked the organization but her body had gotten so used to you beside her. A week into implementing the new schedule Abby felt an immense amount of anxiety without you around. She didn’t know how to break down the feeling and why it was so persistent. Although you two were next door to each other, text messages still provided a temporary cushion for her sadness, but it wasn’t enough.

Abby clicked the icon that was the home for your name and called but there was no answer. Dinner was stewing on the stove, and in the middle of mixing a cocktail, Abby called to find out if you could taste what was missing. Another call led to another one and soon Abby was sitting with a candle flickering silently in front of her. Your plate sat untouched and she just picked at the remnants of hers.

Little did she know you were closed off in your room after studying, panicking. You knew yourself more than you wanted to. The schedule was needed for you to clear your brain on the feelings you had for Abby. With upcoming exams and graduation where would that leave you? She'd move across the world while you were huddled up in your small town's hospital circulation? It was coming in so fast and before you could mix in a girlfriend you had to know what you wanted. The pages of your journal turned soft as you tore your pen through the book.

A part of you wanted to hear the rapping of her fist against your door, ready to envelop you and reassure you that you would figure it out. She never came and because of that, a piece of you died. Conversations with her have turned short and passive since the last exam. It wasn’t just the exam it was a culmination of multiple things that either of you were ready to talk about.

Abby put your dinner into a glass container and waited outside your door trying to gain the sense to knock. One of the many nights you spent together gave her a reason to knock instead of sulk in her bed, thinking about all of her shortcomings in the relationship. You were both lying down and Abby lit a candle that night that you bought her. The sweet scent of peaches and cream cut through the bitter smell of her pine products. She loved it. Between the sheets were your naked bodies damp and lazy. Abby had brought a glass of cold ice water and set it on the nightstand beside the candle. You took turns taking sips.

“Thank you for the water.” You smiled.

“Don’t mention it,” She nudged you.

You twist your body onto your stomach and look up to her glimmering, post-sex face.

“Abby?”

“Yes, beautiful?”

“You still make me nervous.”

She cackles and brings her hand to your cheek and massages away your imperfections. With the roll of her eyes she licks her lips before curating a snarky response. But she quickly realizes you’re being serious. “Why?”

“I care so much about you and that’s something I haven’t felt before. With anyone.”

A kind pause swells between you both.

“I care about you too. I don’t want that to make you nervous.” She said.

“I know you see me differently but I am a little insecure.”

She leans down and kisses your forehead tenderly without a breath.

“That’s normal.”

“But I burrow. I distance myself when I get like that and I don’t want to subject you to that. I don’t want to hurt your feelings again. If I do that, get distant, don’t hesitate to just tell me to get out of my own head. It’s not your fault or your responsibility.”

Abby’s fist banged on the door with your words echoing in her mind. The thuds startled you out of the sleepy daze you fell under. You shuffle to the door to see the goofy blonde in her pajamas and slippers holding what was supposed to be tonights shared dinner.

“You didn’t come to dinner,” Her voice was more welcoming than usual. “I was worried. Are you okay?”

Shoving her way past you and nearly tossed the container on the kitchen counter. Without hesitation she opened her arms and you couldn’t help but to run into them. Although she didn’t say anything the affirmation from her presence was enough.

“All too much in your head again aren’t you?”

A sob escaped into her chest and she gripped you tighter. These past few days have been a blunder of confusing thoughts. A part of you knew getting together with Abby would make things unclear in your life. But if she was willing to get uncomfortable and support you, you were obligated to do the same to her.

“Abby, I should’ve answered your calls.” You pull away to notice how unswayed she is of your state.

“You should have but that doesn’t matter right now. We need to talk.”

You nod your head seldomly and she grips your hand and takes you to your bedroom. Abby pats beside herself to welcome you.

“I’m so scared.” You blurt out.

“Me too,”

Abby was scared for the complete opposite reason. When she was with you it seemed like all the decorative things such as school didn’t matter. She wasn’t familiar with how that felt. To have an identity outside of her accomplishments or care about someone. With you, she could flunk out of nursing school, move back to her home town, and still be satisfied. That scared her — that one person could allow her to have such a paradigm shift.

Hearing Abby say those words made your heart settle.

“I care so much about you. I didn’t think I would, this much. I should’ve known because on orientation when I saw you I thought, ‘I need to know who she is’ and I am grateful for that thought blossoming into my mind.”

You couldn’t muster any other word but her name. She picked up your hands to bring them into her lap. She leaned in to place a soft kiss on your mouth and lingered there with her forehead pressed against yours.

“When you moved next door, I just thought maybe this is the sign I need to do something different. To not let my ambitions lead me but instead my heart. And my heart loves you, Dummy.”

#abby anderson smut #abby smut #abby anderson x you #abby x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #lesbian #abby anderson #abby tlou

93 notes · View notes

murdockthenerd · 1 year

Text

*gasping on air through sobs* I am not broken I am not damaged I deserve good things even if I make mistakes I am young I am learning how to live for the first time

#yea #this has been floating in my brain for a while #some very bad memories started resurfacing again #it's been difficult #I'm trying but it's so hard #i don't know why he did that #i was just a kid

0 notes

perths · 9 months

Text

TROYE SIVAN - RUSH KINNPORSCHE: THE SERIES

485 notes · View notes

welcometogrouchland · 1 year

Text

[ID: a scribbly four panel digital comic of characters from the owl house. The first panel shows Camilla, Luz, and Raine. Camilla stands holding her bat, looking at Raine as they speak to her. Luz watches in the background. The second panel shows Raine posing in front of Eda, Lilith, Darius, Alador, Steve and Hooty. In the first panel Raine says "miss Noceda, I speak for all of us when I say-" and finishes their dialogue in the next panel with "we're proud to welcome to the polycule!".

The third panel is a reaction shot of all the adults reacting to what Raine just said, and the fourth shows Raine blushing and waving their hands, saying "I MEANT REBELLION-", while Camilla blushes and Luz looks dismayed. End ID]

Silly comic idea I had to get out. Sorry for the potential quality, I'd already gotten too far into drawing when I realized the canvas might be a teeny bit too small

#the owl house #toh #raine whispers #camilla noceda #they're the two prominent characters here and everyone else is just a bg scribble so i won't tag everyone else hdbdjfj #anyway would you believe this has been floating in my brain for. months now?? literally since ttt aired and camilla joined the kids #i decided to not do anything for the apocalypse designs of the hagsquad other than ''cool capes'' bc it's just gonna get debunked in-#-a couple or so weeks when promotion for the ep starts so yknow #anyway. camilla is very flattered but she's still not over manny so while it's not a hard no to the witch polycule #it's not a yes #not pictured is the absolute typo in the groupchat moment that happens after this w/ the hagsquad #darius is GETTING THEIR ASS. YOU SAID THAT!! TO HER FACE!!!#eda wants to join in on the bullying but she's too worried abt making a good impression in front of camilla to joke abt it lmao

644 notes · View notes

asliceofoceanmist · 2 years

Text

episode 11 // episode 12

#vegaspete #kinnporsche the series #kinnporsche #tamara gifs #mine: kinnporsche #this has been floating as an idea in my brain for a while #soooo idk... is this anything?#usermone

909 notes · View notes

dood1e-bug · 24 days

Text

When I rewatched the second season some tid bits of dialogue got me thinking about the spider butler.

So "into the mouth of darkness" Doyle and Van Rook go after a guy named Baron Finster thats associated with Argost to maybe get some info on his past, yes they find out Argost had nothing but the cloak and mask but the other thing

Argost designed the scorpion lover body for Baron then he add that Argosts first option was more "organic"

Then in "And your enemies closer" Zak while controlling Munya tells Argost "I've always wondered how much cryptid spider DNA you put into him, I guess the answers enough"

So that got me thinking was Munya like Baron at first without legs, arms or just in a tough spot then Argost struck a deal, oooor he was a human that died and Argost brought him back to life all Frankensteins monster in this. (I mean he looks like the monster too, especially the human form)

After pondering I had a weird dream that involved the undead after that a scene of Argost and Munya where in the lake with subs like if they where in the first bit of "Van Rooks apprentice" seems like I'm sticking to the Frankensteins monster one xD

Adding some little things/headcanons

-Munya is more cryptid then human and probably because of that he is unable to speak

- "Munya" isn't actually his name Argost gave it to him.

#doodle speaks #these have been floating around in my head for a little while finally writing it out #the dream bit it was so weird i never have dreams like that (i probably do i just dont remember) the dreams i always seem to remember -#are natural disaster ones like tornados/hurricanes #the secret saturdays #munya #vv argost #help the spider has a death grip on my brain

13 notes · View notes

thirddoctor · 8 months

Text

youtube

Warp Darkmatter - Bad Reputation

#BLoSC #Buzz Lightyear of Star Command #Warp Darkmatter #Ranger creates #haven't made an amv in years but the idea for this one has been floating around in my brain for like a decade #so I finally did it while trying to distract myself from tooth pain lol

17 notes · View notes

jojopolls · 1 year

Text

I don’t have the creative brain juice or the time to do this myself so I’m throwing it out into the wild, but a jojolion lyrics comic/pmv to Bohemian Rhapsody would actually be perfect. Intro is gappy, verse one is jobin, verse two is josefumi and the rest is gappy & toru. Do you see my vision-

#not polls #sorry i am making my next tourney i'm just thinkg about jojolion always and this idea has been floating in my brain for a while #stares my fave jojolion artists in the eyes. pretty please.

30 notes · View notes

writing-good-vibes · 1 year

Text

mother is the name for god

here we are, my first fic for halloween ends. honestly i've wanted to write something since the movie came out and i'm pretty happy with this !! WARNING for corey having major mommy issues, general themes of depression and anxiety, implied emotional and mildly implied psychical abuse

No matter how badly Corey tried to stay out of his momma's clutches, it was no use. It never worked. And he had been trying, in one way or another, for as long as he could remember. He could never get away. This is how it was meant to be.

By the time they get home from the courthouse, it's way past dinner. Corey was still in his suit, an off-the-rack two piece he'd had since high school and had been forgotten at the back of his closet, until now. It still felt itchy on his back, enough to make his skin crawl, even after so many months of hearings.

Ronald was driving, his driving posture relaxed, though his tense fingers on the steering wheel gave him away. Momma was talking in the passenger seating, damning the judge and the jury and the Allens -- anyone else she could think of really -- for their incompetence. For putting her boy through what they did. Corey sat silently in the back, low in his seat as they re-entered Haddonfield.

When they stop to pick up dinner from the Chinese restaurant in town, Corey should be pleased. He doesn't think he could stomach his momma's cooking, especially not after the day he'd had. But he doesn't feel much like celebrating either, even when momma let's them eat their take out off of tv trays in the lounge.

Corey goes to bed as soon as he can. He watches the soft blink of the radio tower in the distance, but it doesn't lull him to sleep like it sometimes managed too. He rolls onto his side instead, squinting without his glasses to watch the clock on his bedside tick over, one minute after the next. He can feel it, the churning wave inside him that is building, pulling back from the shore like a tsunami before impact. It starts to overwhelm him. the weight of the world that had been forced into his shoulders was finally going to crush him, Corey thinks, a weight so heavy he was scared he'd never be able to get up again.

He needs to escape before the wave breaks and there's only one place to go. Only one place left.

He gets out of bed, feet landing lightly on the floorboards. A habit. Corey drags the blanket from the end of his bed, a greying baby blue thing he's had since he was small, and sets off down the hall.

Ronald comes out of his parents bedroom, and Corey flinches as though he's been caught doing something he shouldn't be. A moment passes between them that feels longer than it probably is. Ronald smiles, something close to sympathetic but not quite. He must see something though, in the way Corey's eyes are wet or in the twitch of his lip. He's seen Corey cry before.

The moment passes and he claps Corey on the shoulder, "It's okay, kid. It'll be okay." Ronald continues down the hall and down the stairs.

Momma's bedroom door creaks, it has for as long as Corey can remember. He cracks the door to his momma's room and peers inside. She's sat up in bed, glasses slipping down her nose and smoothing lotion into her hands.

"Ronald," she starts before looking up at the door. When she sees instead that it is Corey, she frowns. Her voice grates in the quiet night, "Corey? What are you doing out of bed?"

But Corey is already inside, shutting the door behind him and he can't stop his lip from quivering, can't stop the tears blurring his vision even further as he drags the blanket along behind him.

"Oh," Joan throws her arms open and beckons her baby forward. "Corey, come here."

Corey crawls under the comforter, in besides his mother. He cries; endless tears trailing down his cheeks and his nose streaming. His momma pulls him into her arms, against her chest. All he can smell is the old fashioned perfume she wears and the cigarettes they both pretend she doesn't smoke. All he can feel is the softness of her nightgown and her cruel, fierce embrace. He's tried running away from it before, but for once in his whole life, this is all he wants.

"Momma," he cries, letting himself hold onto her for dear life. "Momma, m'sorry, m'sorry, m'sorry..."

She shushes him gently, not in that whip sharp way she would when he got too rowdy as a child, a sound that served as a warning for something sharper to come. No, this time is was gentle, so genuinely gentle, that it made him cry even harder.

"It's okay, baby," and Corey doesn't see the ghost of a smile on her lips, "your mother will always, always love you."

When Corey first started preschool, he cried every single day. The other parents at the school yard, the ones Joan spoke to before alienating them entirely, told her it that yes, it was difficult, but now was the right time to cut the apron strings. That Corey needed to learn how to socialise. Joan smiled tightly and pushed down the anger that surged through her. How could these people tell her it was the right thing to do, to let her baby hurt so much? Every day Corey cried, and every day he would come home, climb into his momma's lap and let her rock him. The years would pass by and he'd learn better.

His breath rattles softly in his chest as the tears dry up and he finally catches his breath and Corey falls into an empty, dreamless sleep.

In the morning he will wake up and know that he let himself fall back into her clutches. Know that she has him. But tonight he stays where he is, clinging to his mother.

#corey cunningham #halloween ends #joan cunningham hate club #this has been floating around my brain and my drafts for a while so i finally finished it

44 notes · View notes

apocalypse-weekend · 9 months

Text

i like to think all of the mercs have a very basic understanding of German thanks to Medic, he injects it into conversation so much that the others have just started to memorize words he uses a lot. It's not enough to carry a conversation or even form a coherent sentence most of the time but they do know a bit.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #headcanon #this has been floating around in my brain for a while now #the mercs probably also know at least a little bit of French too cause Spy does a similar thing #apocalypse talks

12 notes · View notes

icewindandboringhorror · 19 days

Text

Various images of things

#image commentary in tags once again since they don't allow captions anymore and I feel weird using the alt text for that --#1. PIBBINS.... cheering clapping hooting hollering glorious applause everytime I see a pigeon in public #2. Birthday card that I drew for someone. .. kittys...#3. 2023's annual haul of tiny white pumpkins.. i get at least one white pumpkin every year around fall when they have pumpkins in stores #because I just love the color and texture ... bright white and smooth and cold and round.. kind of like a volleyball or something #4. A brief adventure into watching big brother (only earlier seasons of course as I hate all reality shows post like 2013 or something when #they became overly focused on social media and overproduced memeable phrases more.. like even though ALL reality shows have always #been extremely fake and annoying and mindless it's like..... newer stuff seems A Different Kind Of Fake or something) since whenever #I'm sick sometimes I find weird mindless things like that to watch (that one time I had bronchitis I watched all of Flavor of Love in my #half awake illness stupor and now everytime I heat up canned minestrone soup (mostly all I ate that week) I think of flavor flav since #thats just a weird brain connection I have now lol) ANYWAY.. I was sick and watched like 2 seasons of this and then thought it was too #uninteresting and obnoxious to continue (more like 1 and a half since I skipped the rest of one once only boring people were left) BUT this #one guy had a very mischevious looking face and he also said a few things (like the above captioned speech) that sounded like dialogue #some fantasy character would say.. so I took a screencap of him and edited him into a mischevious wizard i guess.?? idk I was sick lol #~your little friend has a poisoned tongue~ is just a very unexpectedly serious sounding wording for some random normal #frat dude looking guy to say while casually chatting on a reality tv show in like 2008 or whenever that was filmed lol #5. FLUFFY CLOVERS!! I'd never seen them be furry and soft before?? inchresting..#6. Noodle sitting in bed with the cat figurines looming above him... the council of kittys...#7. McDonald's full breakfast platter + asparagus + strawberries & cream (also of course this is old and I am now boycotting mcdonalds etc)#i try to group the images somewhat consistently like.. winter stuff with winter stuff or summer stuff with summer stuff #but I have so many random pictrues floating around on my computer that I never post that sometimes some are not organized or just #thrown into a set because there's nowhere else for them. Like the pigeon picture is from like 3 years ago for example lol #8 & 9 - I think I've posted these before but I just find them very interesting looking flowers. whenever they happen to be blooming #I'll pick up a few when I'm out on walks or etc. ... poof ball looking things #photo diary

4 notes · View notes

pillowmoment · 8 months

Text

thinking about death is scary but heeeyyy if the heavens are above in the stars that must mean the other end is in the sea and personally i’d love to “atone” as a little fish going blublublublu for all of eternity in quiet, peaceful, solitude. No conscious, just fish

#This idea has been floating around in my head for a while #because you know what #It’s really fucked up that this stuff is so binary #It shouldn’t be eternal paradise vs enternal suffering #Because people change #And people reflect #Rehab is so important for this reason #But religion and stuff if taught wrong drills into our heads that it’s always one or the other #And that’s just really mean and fucked up #I think being a silent little fish with no brain is a better punishment then suffering for all of eternity #Because you can’t do SHIT as a fish #And i would enjoy it personally #But it’s pretty lame when you think abt it #this is my way of coping with the afterlife #Because binary one or the other situations suck and we should eliminate them #Nothing in nature is binary #As much as we’d like to pretend

4 notes · View notes

127rkives · 10 months

Text

uhhhh idk if anyone has discussed this before but... miguel likes to eat pussy from the back!!!

like idk, every once in a while, his brain goes brrrr and something short circuits. idk chalk it up to stress but it's more like some feral, animalistic urge. he can’t really explain it. it’s almost as if someone flips a switch, his mind goes blank except for the thought of needing to be with you, under you, in you. he has to stop whatever he’s doing and go find you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

and as soon as he makes it home to find you relaxed on the couch, he's flipping you over, contorting you face down ass up, and he’s nuzzling into your clothed pussy like a dog in fucking heat. when he’s finally spent just enough time shrouded in the scent of you, he's yanking your shorts off. he’s been at this for approximately 2 minutes but there's already a wet patch in the center of your panties. that sight makes his pupils dilate before going in for the kill. his claws come out to rip your panties to shreds right before he straight up nose dives into your pussy, and granted you can feel him, the action still catches you off guard enough for you to emit a loud gasp. it’s just too much too fast. “mig- ohhh!~”

“mmm... mmmf” miguel gets so much satisfaction from tasting you that he releases moans of his own. they would be bouncing around the room and intermingling with yours except right now he can't bring himself to pry his tongue from the slick walls of your cunt.

“oh my gosh- miguel!”

hearing you raise your voice in alarm while saying his name is enough to make miguel pause for a second. you take the moment of reprieve to look over your shoulder— huffing and puffing— only to be stunned by miguel’s animalistic look. his curls are messily hanging near his eyes which are dark, yet spacey as if he’s on another planet. his lips are parted just enough to show a peek of his fangs as he breathes heavily through his mouth after suffocating himself with your pussy, and a gleaming mixture of his spit and your slick is smothered over half of his face and all the way down to his collarbone.

“m- miggy could you just give me a few seconds?” you ask. miguel tilts his head to the side and scoffs. a curt “no” is all you get before miguel locks his arms around your thighs to drag you back to his watering mouth. you don’t have claws like miguel but if you did the couch cushions would definitely be in shreds from the way you’re gripping them.

the wet slurps of miguel’s tongue lapping at your cunt are soon paired with two of his thick fingers easily slipping in thanks to your arousal. he scissors them for a moment before adding a third. the speed he uses to pump them in and out and the feeling of his slightly calloused fingers against your gummy walls leaves you floating in the clouds. you’re brought crashing back down, however, when a deep groan from miguel sends sparks up your spine. soon enough you feel pressure building at the bottom of your stomach, only it doesn’t feel like it usually does. in a fit of panic you try to drag yourself out of miguel’s grip.

“ohhh my go- miggy!” it’s all you can do to let out little slurred calls of his name, but it doesn’t matter. miguel’s not stopping until he’s satisfied. your escape attempts are useless, but the wiggling is enough to piss him off.

“querida. don’t move so much. be good.” but you can’t be still. the tingly feeling in your tummy is growing and all you can do let out breathy moans as you thrash around in ecstacy.

“ahh- i can- can’t help it!”

all of your moving loosened miguel’s grip too much for his liking. in less than a second, he's yanking you back towards his mouth and hoisting your hips just high enough to wrap his lips around your cute little clit.

one hard suck is all it takes before you’re squealing at the top of your lungs. a scream of “miguel!~” is the only thing leaving your lips while your vision goes white and your breathing stops for a second. miguel is unrelenting behind you, switching to messily swiping his thumb across your clit and shoving his tongue back into your pulsating cunt in an attempt to catch every last drop squirting in to his mouth.

even when your arms give out beneath you and you faceplant into the couch miguel is still lapping at your outer lips like he’s been saved after being stranded in the desert for a year.

and like that, it’s like the switch in his brain flips again. he smooths his hands up and down your trembling thighs and scatters kisses in a path up your back to the nape of your neck. “you okay, cariño?” a weak “mhm” is all you can muster up as you turn your head to flash miguel a floaty smirk. he smiles and chuckles, recognizing the foggy look in your eyes. covered in a sheen of sweat and high off the feeling of him is just one of the times miguel thinks you look the most beautiful.

after ghosting his hands across your skin and giving you a few minutes to calm down, miguel goes to gently move you to his lap. he buries his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling all of you. with the little strength you have, you wiggle around in his lap attempting to get comfortable but something is in the way-

“ohh~” miguel’s breath is hot on your neck as he groans into it. his fangs graze your skin, his hands grasp onto your hips for dear life and oh...

someone flipped the damn switch again...

#miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel smut #miguel thirst #spider-man 2099 smut #spider-man across the multiverse smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #way longer than this was supposed to be buut oh well

9K notes · View notes

xiaoluclair · 1 year

Text

i'd like to take a moment to thank the lord for my lack of motivation to get out of bed, severe fear of being judged online, and general sense of humanity for preventing me from invading another person's privacy, stalking them to their home, and then announcing my presence loud and obnoxiously because i think i'm simply more than a splodge of cells without anything better to do than be annoying and entitled, amen.

#obvi keep scrolling f you dont wanna see me be a little sour and maybe a bit mean but i think its a little deserved #the politeness of that instagram post kills me #i know it was a while ago (like a day idk i havent kept up (see: lack of motivation)) but this has been floating in the drafts of my brain #today so mmm #save a horse ride a disc #xiao: waffle #waffle: cl16

1 note · View note

mcdynamite · 4 months

Text

Kissing has never done all that much for Steve, if he’s honest.

It's just not really something he's ever given much thought to before - the way someone kisses - despite the fact that he's locked lips with plenty of people. For him, kissing has always been something nice, but not particularly special. It's never been earth-shattering. Never taken his breath away, the way people talk about in movies and books. It's just a way to be closer to someone, and it's nice, but it's never anything more than that.

Then, Steve kisses Eddie for the first time, and suddenly he gets it.

They're high when it happens, laying side by side in Eddie's unmade bed while the weed sinks into their bones. Steve loves the way it seems to slow down the world around them - makes everything syrupy and sweet, so he feels every brush of Eddie's fingers against his own in every inch of his body as they pass the joint back and forth.

The casual contact makes him long for more, and when he's high, Steve just...gives into the longing. He lets himself drift closer until they're pressed together so closely that Eddie can hide his face in Steve's uncharacteristically messy hair when he's trying to cover up a snort of laughter in response to Steve's deranged weed-induced musings.

Tonight, they meander their way through a directionless conversation - as they so often do when they get high together - until the joint is so small it nearly singes their fingertips. When Eddie finally sits up to stamp it out in the ashtray on the bedside table, Steve tries not to miss the feeling of Eddie's body against his own too much, knowing it'll be back soon enough.

"I'm thinking of handing over the DM throne to Will for the next oneshot, after we finish this campaign," Eddie says, speech slow and thoughtful as he puts out the blunt. "Think he'll be good at it."

Steve just hums, eyes heavy-lidded, gaze fixed on the curls he wants so badly to run his fingers through, just to know what it feels like. He's high enough to not care about the consequences when he decides fuck it, and reaches out to feel the soft ringlets beneath his fingertips.

"You're good at it," he muses - a delayed response to Eddie's comment. If Eddie is bothered by the way Steve is carefully petting his hair, he doesn't show it. Instead, he turns back to look down at Steve with a soft smile that makes Steve's insides feel all gooey.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, a hint of a smirk overtaking the softness. "You ready to admit that you like watching me play my little nerd game, Harrington?"

Steve blames the quiet whine that escapes his throat on the weed, along with the way he honest-to-God pouts in response to Eddie's words. He tugs on a lock of Eddie's hair petulantly. "Don't like it when you call me that."

Eddie's face does something strange then, and Steve can't quite parse out what it means with the weed making his brain all foggy. He looks...surprised? Fond? Maybe both?

"Sorry, Stevie," he replies, teasing but somehow genuine at the same time. Steve smiles dopily, an expression that Eddie returns. "That better?"

Satisfied, Steve nods. Hums in affirmation. "Yeah. I like that one."

And it's true. Steve loves when Eddie calls him Stevie, because Eddie always sounds so fond when he does, and it makes Steve's heart feel too big for his chest.

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie asks, still grinning as he leans down until he's propped up on one elbow, hovering just over Steve on the bed. "What else do you want me to call you, hm? Stevie? Steve? M'lord?"

The last one makes Steve laugh and close his eyes, happy to bask in the sound of Eddie's voice as he floats along with their conversation.

"Sir Steven? Sweetheart?" Eddie continues, and Steve's heart jumps just a bit at the second one. Then, Eddie murmurs, "Baby?"

And Steve's eyes fly open.

Steve stares at his friend with wide eyes - lips parted as a soft, punched-out oh escapes him - and it's weird, is the thing. Because Steve has been called baby before, lovingly by his grandmother when he was still a little boy causing mischief while his parents weren't watching, meanly by boys on the playground when he cried over something silly like a scraped knee…and when he got older, teasingly by the girls he took on dates.

It's not a new name for him, but it feels groundbreaking nonetheless.

Because the word sounds so much better coming from Eddie's mouth than anyone else's. It's soft, and fond, and knowing, and...

It's longing.

"Yeah,” Steve croaks. "Yeah."

"Which one? Sir Steven?" Eddie asks playfully, cocking his head to the side like a puppy. He grins maniacally when Steve huffs and shakes his head in disappointment. "No? Which one was it, then, that you liked the most?"

"Eddieeee," Steve complains, burying his flushed face into the pillow and avoiding his friend's gaze. "You know which one."

Eddie shakes his head in an almost scolding manner and Steve is convinced he must've moved closer, because Steve can feel Eddie's breath against his skin, and the air in the room feels about a hundred degrees hotter.

"Nuh-uh, Stevie," Eddie says, poking him playfully in the ribs. "You gotta tell me which one."

Steve hesitates, feeling more and more self-conscious by the second. He sort of wants to hide, but he also really wants Eddie to call him that again. It's probably thanks to his intoxicated brain that he allows himself to answer truthfully. "Baby," he murmurs, uncharacteristically shy.

"Yeah?" Eddie says, voice and smile softening in tandem. "You like when I call you baby, Stevie?"

Steve stares up at him with wide eyes, hardly able to believe this is really happening, and nods. "Yeah. That one."

Eddie is so close, now, that Steve can feel the warmth that emanates from his skin; can see the flecks of gold in his eyes amongst the molten chocolate brown. He's got freckles - Steve realizes. Tiny little dots across the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks that form constellations on his skin. Steve thinks, maybe a bit deliriously, that he would be perfectly happy spending hours tracing them, the way astronomers of old once traced the stars.

"Eddie..." he breathes, heart pounding as he begins to feel more and more desperate for...for something. Anything to let him know that he's not the only one succumbing to the gravitational pull between them.

Eddie blinks slowly, and his eyes widen as though he's just realized something important. Steve watches his throat bob nervously before Eddie finally whispers, "Yeah, baby?"

Steve inhales sharply through parted lips - a soft, plaintive gasp that draws Eddie's eyes to his lips, and-

Oh.

That's what Steve wants, isn't it?

"I-" Steve tries, helpless to stop his own gaze from falling on Eddie's lips - pink and parted and just a little bit chapped, and so, so close.

"Baby," Eddie says again, and this time it's different. Unintentional. Like Eddie said it without meaning to. And maybe it's just the weed, but Steve swears he can feel the word burrowing its way into his chest and settling around his heart like a blanket. It makes his whole body feel warm - something only made worse by the hot coal of desire that begins smoldering low in his gut.

He's so lost in it all that he can't even bring himself to feel embarrassed when he whispers, "Please."

Steve waits with bated breath until finally, any remaining nervousness retreats from Eddie's eyes, and Eddie smiles in that way that makes Steve's stomach flutter. It's such a pretty smile. Steve can only watch as it grows closer, going cross-eyed for the briefest moment in his quest to to stare at Eddie's lips until suddenly his eyes are fluttering shut, because...because...

Because Eddie kisses him with lips still curled into a smile, and Steve thinks - utterly nonsensically - that feeling Eddie's lips against his own is so much better than just looking at them. The thought makes him giggle, just a bit, and he finds himself grinning into the kiss, too.

They part for a moment so Steve can let out another quiet giggle, and Eddie seems to pause for a moment, smiling down at Steve with poorly concealed affection. "Baby," he murmurs reverently, and then he's leaning down to capture Steve's lips in another kiss.

This time, Steve is ready for it, but it draws a muffled whimper out of him nonetheless. His nose fills with the scent of weed and cigarettes and cheap cologne - the smell of Eddie - and it's so overwhelmingly good. He lets his lips fall open on a gasp...doesn't close them when Eddie tentatively brushes his tongue against Steve's own. He shuts his eyes, because the press of Eddie's hand to his cheek and Eddie's chest to his own feel like so much more like that.

Eddie breaks the kiss to gasp in a breath, and inexplicably, that's what really sends every last bit of restraint in Steve's brain packing. It's so simple, so ordinary - the soft, quick sip of air Eddie takes in. It's a breathy little sound that Steve has heard from countless others before, but maybe that's why it puts him in this unfamiliar chokehold of wanting.

This isn't just anyone.

This is Eddie.

And Eddie is making those quiet, lovely little sounds because he's kissing Steve, and Steve is very rapidly realizing that he is utterly incapable of being normal about any of this.

He feels his cheeks go hot as he forces his heavy limbs to move so he can tangle his fingers in Eddie's curls, holding him close (because Steve thinks he might die if Eddie stops kissing him, now). And it's bliss. It's addictive. It's ruinously tender, and Steve feels himself unraveling from within. Feels the knots in his heart - left behind by absent parents, cruel friends, and distant girlfriends - turn to dust at the gentlest brush of Eddie's lips.

He whimpers into Eddie's mouth and clings to him even tighter, feeling his throat grow strangely tight as his eyes sting at the corners, and when Eddie pulls away he's got a small furrow in his brow, just under his bangs.

"Stevie?" Eddie murmurs. His eyes dart to Steve's cheeks, and when he brushes his thumb along the skin just under Steve's eye, it drags a bit of wetness with it. Only then does Steve realize...he's crying.

And Eddie is wiping away his tears.

"I..." Steve croaks, eyes wide and spilling more tears with every blink. He drags his hands down from Eddie's hair to rest on his chest, beginning to curl into himself as the embarrassment sinks in.

Christ, he's crying. And all they've done is kiss.

Eddie's frown deepens, but he doesn't pull away completely. Instead, he lets their noses brush and breathes, "Baby..."

Steve's breath hitches.

"You're shaking, sweetheart," Eddie continues, still brushing Steve's tears away with gentle fingers. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Steve gasps hurriedly, because as far as he understands, it's the truth. "Nothing's wrong, I just..." He closes his eyes. Swallows the lump in his throat and admits with a trembling voice, "I didn't know it could be like this."

He opens his eyes and sees Eddie's expression soften, but the concern remains. "What do you mean?"

"I just..." Steve tries, sniffling and letting out a quiet, distressed laugh. He slams his eyes shut again and rubs them roughly with his palms, trying to force the tears back into his body. "Jesus, this is fucking embarrassing, man."

"Steve..." Eddie murmurs. He sounds sad. Conflicted. Like he's not sure what to do or how to help - if he should stay or go - and that just won't do, because Steve is certain he'll drift away on the breeze without Eddie to ground him. He's got to try to explain, even with his thoughts still feeling syrupy slow from the weed.

He wants to tell Eddie that he's kissed dozens of people before, but kissing them never felt like this. He wants to explain that he's used to taking the lead, and that it's nice having someone else set the pace, for once. He wants to tell Eddie about the way most people he's kissed have done so - frantically...lustfully. Kissing has always been a simple means to an end. And it's never made Steve feel like this.

What he actually manages to say is slightly different, though.

"No one's ever kissed me like they love me, before."

His eyes are still covered by his own hands, so he can't see what is surely a stunned expression on Eddie's face, but he can hear the way Eddie gasps in response to Steve's words.

It’s too much, he thinks. He's said too much, fast-forwarded too far into the movie. It's too early to be talking about love. Steve knows this. It's just...

His stupid, floaty little brain can't envision a world where someone kisses the way Eddie does without being hopelessly, irrevocably in love.

"Shit," Steve breathes after several minutes of silence. Or maybe it's several seconds. He really doesn't know. Time feels funny, when he's high. "I know that's, like, way too much. I'm too much. I don't know why I-"

"Steve," Eddie interrupts, and Steve snaps his mouth shut. He feels Eddie's hands wrap carefully around his wrists to pull them from his eyes. Eddie is being so careful with him...like he can't see that his tenderness is exactly the thing that’s ripping Steve apart at the seams.

Steve wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants to drag Eddie back down and kiss him until he can't breathe. Until Eddie's sweetness becomes warm and comforting instead of feeling like the scalding heat of jumping into a hot tub after a dip in the cold waters of the pool.

"Baby, look at me," Eddie says softly.

Steve is helpless but to obey.

Eddie's gaze is sad but kind when Steve finally meets it with his own. He's got the barest hint of a smile on his pretty lips - the same ones Steve so desperately wants to feel against his own, again - and Steve feels his stomach swirl with something he can't quite describe.

"It's not too much," Eddie continues, voice steady. "And neither are you, okay? You, Steve Harrington, are never too much. Not to me."

The words settle over Steve like a blanket, and he can't decide whether it's comforting or suffocating. He just wants to stop talking about things so they can move on. He just wants Eddie.

"Eds..." he rasps desperately. "I don't- I just want-" He cuts himself off with the hitching breath of what may be a sob. He's not really sure, at this point.

"What can I do, honey?" Eddie says, and he really needs to stop with the pet names, or Steve might genuinely fracture into pieces. "What do you want?"

Steve is sunk too deep into the syrupy slow feeling of the weed - too desperate to feel Eddie pressed against him again - to do anything but tell the truth.

"Just want you," he says.

Eddie smiles - eyes crinkling at the corners - and Steve breathes the sight in like oxygen. "You have me, baby," Eddie murmurs. He's rubbing small, comforting circle into the sensitive skin of Steve's wrists now, and it's perfect. It's wonderfully, disgustingly perfect.

"I do?" Steve asks dumbly. His brain feels fifteen seconds behind everything, but he thinks that's probably okay. Eddie seems to be just fine waiting for him to catch up.

"Yeah, Stevie," Eddie chuckles quietly. "Had me for a long time, now. Just wasn't sure if you would want me the way I wanted you."

"You want me," Steve says breathlessly, more to himself than to Eddie. "You wanna kiss me."

Eddie's resulting laugh is a bit louder, a bit brighter, this time. "I do," he says. The sadness is fading from his eyes, giving way to something that looks an awful lot like elation. Steve remains still and watches, entranced, as Eddie carefully hauls himself up until he can swing a leg over Steve's to straddle him.

Still smiling broadly, Eddie leans down until their faces are mere inches apart, studying Steve with those big, brown eyes. "You gonna let me?" he asks Steve, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Steve nods, lips parted in surprise he can't quite seem to shake, and Eddie's expression softens.

"Gonna let me kiss you like I love you, Stevie?" Eddie whispers.

Steve's not sure when, exactly, his tears had begun to dry up, but he knows they must have at some point, because they're returning with a vengeance, now. "Please," he breathes.

Eddie shifts, and Steve expects Eddie to go right back to kissing him, but that's not what he does.

Instead, Eddie releases one of Steve's wrists and cups his cheek tenderly. This time, the feeling of his thumb brushing the tears away is a familiar one, and it makes Steve smile dopily.

"You know the reason I kiss you like I love you?" Eddie asks. Steve shakes his head and tracks Eddie's gaze as it drifts towards the place where his fingers are still wrapped around Steve's wrist. His lips quirk into a smile as he uses his grip to pin Steve's hand to the mattress, right beside Steve's head, and laces their fingers together.

Their noses are brushing, now, and Eddie's hips are resting on Steve's, and Eddie's hair has fallen around them like a curtain to keep the rest of the world out, and it's so much. Eddie is everywhere, and he's everything, and Steve is completely, unquestioningly in love with him - probably has been in love with him for ages, now, and just never let himself think too hard about it.

"I kiss you like I love you, Steve Harrington," Eddie breathes, and their lips brush as he speaks. "Because I love you."

And the thing is…Steve has spent his entire life wondering what it would feel like to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was loved. It's something that's eluded him for twenty years.

So it's all the more miraculous when Eddie kisses him again, and suddenly, Steve knows. He knows that Eddie Munson loves him. He feels it in the way Eddie kisses him slowly and deliberately, like it would never have crossed Eddie's mind not to. He feels it in their linked hands, in the way Eddie squeezes his hand when Steve makes a desperate, wanton sound into his mouth.

He feels it when Eddie brushes the hair out of his eyes and smiles before kissing Steve's forehead, then his nose, and then his lips again.

Feels it when Eddie's lips begin to wander down his neck.

When Eddie sucks a mark into the thin skin above his collar bone, just because Steve begs him too.

When Eddie pulls Steve's shirt over his head with careful hands, then lets Steve do the same, because Steve needs the intimacy of skin on skin.

He feels it when Eddie stops Steve's wandering hands from venturing too far south with a firm grip and apologetic eyes, because Eddie wants him - of course he does - but not when they've been smoking. Not when there's even the slightest chance that Steve might wake up and regret it in the morning.

And he hears it, too, later that night when they're laying in Eddie's bed exchanging soft, sleepy kisses, unwilling to drift off and let the night end, just yet.

Their legs are woven together - bare, aside from their boxers - and Steve has lost track of how long they've been tangled up in each other like this. He doesn't particularly care, though. He's pretty sure he could happily spend the rest of his life exactly like this.

"Love you, Stevie," Eddie whispers against his lips. They both smile into the next kiss, and Steve's heart is full to bursting, because he believes it. He knows, now, what it feels like to be loved...to be adored.

"I love you," he murmurs in reply, relishing in Eddie's sharp intake of breath. He giggles a bit, for no reason other than the pure joy that's been coursing through his body all night. "God," he laughs. "I fucking love you, Eddie Munson.

Eddie is quiet for a moment before his face splits into a grin that could rival Steve's own, and he's so goddamn beautiful that Steve almost feels like crying again.

He doesn't cry, though. He just watches adoringly as Eddie smiles and nudges Steve's nose with his own. "Yeah, baby?" Eddie teases.

"Yeah, Eds," he answers simply.

And he's pretty sure Eddie knows - is pretty sure Eddie can feel it - because Steve kisses him for the umpteenth time that night, and he pours every ounce of his heart into it.

Steve kisses Eddie like he loves him, because he does. God, help him, he does.

And Eddie?

Eddie kisses Steve like he loves him back, and Steve gets it now, because it’s more than just a kiss.

It’s perfect.

It’s earth-shattering.

It’s everything.

Shout-out to @lyphyshard for the beta!

For more of my Steddie blurbs and one-shots, check out my masterlist!

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #soft steddie #steddie fluff #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #first kiss #cw: weed #stranger things #i'm so normal about them

2K notes · View notes