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If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.
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domestic!steve and his little family
A/N: i canât get his âsix nuggetsâ speech out of my head
Warnings: drinking, suggestive situations, fluff
part one part two part three part four
you passing out on the couch after putting the kids to bed and trying to get through a movie. he comes home and cuddles behind you and then the terrors wake up and come lay on top of you both then the dog curls up by your feet
just a pile of harringtons <3
SLOW. DANCING. all the time, to everything, holding a baby on his arm, cooking, cleaning, humming the music because there's nothing else playing
everyone getting a cold/the flu at the same time, and you happy to dole out cough medicine and tissue boxes, but he just follows you around and gets to everything before you can strain yourself
him ALWAYS knowing when you're on the verge. whether it's the kids being a little too whiny, or just a rough day, he's there to swoop in when you need even a little assistance
plus maybe finding you curled up in bed after an awful day and just turning off all the lights for you and spooning the rest of the night
accidentally getting super protective of his little family, doing all the 'hard' tasks (changing a light bulb, sweeping/mopping, the laundry, etc) to save everyone else the hassle
just the most lovely helicopter parent
FAMILY GROCERY TRIPS đ„șđ„ș!!!!! him buying the kids whatever they want and pushing them around in the cart while they swing their little legs. using only one hand so he can hold yours in the other. stopping halfway through every aisle for a kiss. the kids squealing and covering their eyes.
the party is still in college and (mostly) in-state, and your home is like a free for all every time they're in town. which honestly is such a good deal (the babysat become the babysitters, and i stand by that) they love you guys and the kiddos
especially dustin
lemme tell you, he would get so excited about teaching your little harrington fusion babies how to play dnd. um bonus he definitely makes them into little techie babies on accident, and it's gotta be so cute seeing them slowly turn into his mini-mes
him trying to explain all the confusing bits of movies/cartoons to the nonverbal baby whoâs just babbling incessantly, and dustinâs determined to get the little ray of sunshine to understand Ducktales
one of the kids LOVES fiddling with dustinâs shiny new gameboy + him calling her dustin jr. for a lonnnng time
dustin being the most involved and present of the party, stopping by as much as possible even when heâs busy, making them snacks and sandwiches and bringing them toys
uncle dusty đ„č
okay now don't get me started on robin
she like definitely hates kids, but uh oh suddenly there's a soft spot for your little ones because they look exactly like her best friends. down to the smiles, the eyes, everything
(her bringing vickie over for double dates, and vickie is good with kids, which really isn't helping robin's soft spot for the rascals. she's a sucker, and we all know it)
YOU HOSTING âFAMILY PARTIESâ EVERY YEAR WHERE EVERYONE (wheelers, sinclairs, byers, hendersons, argyle, robin, max, and eddie + wayne sometimes) COME OVER AND HAVE A BBQ AND PLAY GAMES AND DO KARAOKE
bonus: joyce and hopper shredding journey songs APART for the entire neighborhood to hear
also bonus: most of them getting wine drunk and passing out on the living room floor while you and steve lay blankets on top of them. the babes being SO excited to see everyone in the morning (even if all the adults are very hungover)
anyways back on track here: steve learning how to braid.
because your daughter's hair can be pesky some days
okay most days, which makes his new little hobby all the more useful. and he gets INVESTED in all the different hairstyles (french braids, dutch braids, fishtail braids, even the twisty ones?? you name it and steve harrington's wrote the goddamn book on it)
also??? bathtime with the kids would be so precious. them having BASKETS full of bathtoys
even when you're just perched on the toilet seat making sure no one drowns, you end up covered in soapy water. head to toe, it's so unfunny
steve "bubble bath" harrington buying the fancy soap that fills the entire bathroom with foam just cause the babies find it so fucking fascinating
him and the babies sitting on the couch watching cartoons or something when they can't sleep, and they're just mindlessly chattering while steve is treating it like a full on conversation.
"yeah" + "oh yeah, i hadn't thought about it that way" + "wow. no, that's a really good point, bubba" + "i'm sorry, dewey did what?" + "you better not be taking notes, missyâ
family picnics, family drive-in movies, family walks in the park, family game night, family apple picking, family beach days, family camping trips (+ steveâs insane bonfire skills), family crafts, family pillow forts, family baking
thatâs all
matching clothes 90% of the time (gingham, hats, swimsuits, all of it. getting ready is such a hassle most days because steve is adamant on looking like a big bunch âoâ freaks⊠but itâs pretty cute to see him so excited)
steve is so invested in how much you care for the babes. like his heart is AFLUTTER every time you mindlessly play with their fragile baby hairs and call them sweet names and kiss their little heads
but sometimes, he just wants to unwind
the kids are snoring away after youâve read them about four picture books (and an encore), and heâs standing in the doorway, ready to catch you in a tight hug when you slump over to him
whispering about how good you are with them, kissing your temples + forehead, taking hot showers together after a particularly tiring day
then laying down wrapped up in each others arms and trying not to doze off (and even though he finds it very cute when you fight your exhaustion, itâs even better when you go pliant and he can just brush your hair from your face and kiss your nose and wish you sweet dreams)
and heâs got insane body heat so you donât even need the covers on from late spring to late fall
plain old cuddles keep you just as warm
SPORTS DAD ALERT!!!!! crackin a sunday morning beer (idk i dont pay attention to sports) AND TOSSIN A BALL WITH THE BABIES????
oh my goodness im MELTING because they are not good at sports, yk being babies and all, but heâs so encouraging anyway
teaching them to catch and throw and dunk and swim and dive- oH my god, heâs perfect and so so patient and understanding
father of the year truly
annual road trips to maine or oregon or louisiana depending on how crazy heâs feeling, but itâs always a surprise, and he always plans it himself no matter how much you insist on helping
your music taste imprinting on the babies during the hour long car rides (and steve a little tbh)
oh yeah, you donât have a camper because you told him it might be excessive, but hey, heâs just as content bustling through the states in a beat up old mini van
making a million stops for sight-seeing and snacks
him getting sunburnt all the time and yeah, it brings out his freckles, but you scold him for sure about how reckless it was meanwhile your kids are LATHERED in sunscreen even when theyâre inside all day pls đ
okayâŠ. you donât do as much together [in bed] anymore because of the kids, but whenever you get the chance, heâs crazy sensitive, even when you just trace his skin or kiss his moles, heâs like arching off the mattress going wild
and heâs not shy about his âi love youâs
well, maybe he is, but heâs not shy about showing it
gosh and he always looks so handsome. being a dad really suits him: not always having the time to shave (stubble đ„Ž), the ever-present proud father/husband smile on his face, THE HIGH WAISTED JEANS
(please tell me why he would get all the babies names tattooed. and yours of course. probably in an arrow heart. god heâs so gross, i want him)
him occasionally whipping out his old letterman and putting it on just to tease you, using his specially reserved âking steveâ persona to flirt with you until you give him a kiss and rehide the goddamned jacket
him being OBSESSED with you. all. the. time.
boy is still needy. he is a honeymoon phase man at heart. itâs not a phase.
pulling you in for so many random kisses, always telling you how gorgeous and incredible you look even if youâre sweaty and overheating, taking you on spontaneous stargazing dates, bringing/making you lunch on days he works, holding your hand every second of every day
always always having special dates (birthdays, anniversaries) locked up in his brain vault, making SURE to buy you and the kids the perfect gifts/treat you to dinner
and at one point, the game of remembering becomes a little competition
in the beginning of your marriage, he used to rush to the store to buy you flowers, but after a few years of you beating him to the punch, he gave up and just accepted your bouquets every year, promising to kiss you silly later that day
he truly cannot resist your smile when you hand him that bundle of pretty flowers (the little nuggets love it, too, because it means they each get to pick a personal flower out of the bunch)
steve is genuinely the sweetest and most caring husband and father and i donât take criticism
heâs wanted it for so long and had so much practice that it comes naturally to him. he never loses his temper, and the kids are just as sweet on him as you are.
masterlist
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im sorry but none of us get to look away from currently ongoing genocide if we are to claim we give a shit about the sanctity of human life. the only people that will benefit from that ignorance are the perpetrators of the genocide that is, again, currently happening. no its not a complex topic. yes it is a heavy one. but knowing even the basics about this situation will go a long way in not helping spread propaganda and inevitable genocide denial bullshit rhetoric the groundworks already been laid for. theres a lot that we owe to those two million palestinian civillians trapped in the gaza strip, their deaths practically signed off by every government that declared solidarity with israel's ceaselessly ongoing ethnic cleansing efforts. and simply knowing general facts on what is going on is the bare minimum all of us should readily give them.
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someone pls find it i need to it too ml <3 đ
OK LISTEN
thereâs a picture that is a guy with his hands on a girlâs waist in bed, her butt is on his lap, sorta in this position:
but sheâs in pink panties (i think) and itâs a brighter pic, the guy is more tanned, AND I CANNOT FIND IT. FOR THE LIFE OF ME. ITS DRIVING ME INSANE
so if anyone knows which picture iâm talking about, please send it to me? k thx
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GodDAMN ball worship with Steve
đ©đ©đ©đ©đ©
gender unspecified reader!
steve licks his lips, chestnut eyes half-lidded. he watches you, chest rising and falling rapidly, as you nuzzle your face into his balls. your little hand jerks off his massive cock, which is leaking heavily from your attention. a vein on the underside pulses with his heartbeat.
âshit,â he rasps, tangling a hand into your hair. he pushes you closer a little, but mainly keeps his sturdy hand on your head for his own sake. âyâlike that, honey?â
âmhm.â youâre so meek while doing something so sinful.
steve moans breathily, licks his lips again. theyâre dry from how his jaw hangs. âcan you taste me? hm? all the cum in my balls?â
âuh-huh.â your lithe tongue licks up his sack and up the underside of his cock. steve forces your head back down, shaking his head, biting his lip.
âno, baby,â he sighs. âdonât cheat ân try to taste my precum. you get my load in that pretty mouth of yours when i tell you, got it?â
you nod, your dark eyes looking up at him. steve whines and lets his head fall back, nostrils flaring. âsuck on âem, honey. yeah, like⊠like th⊠fuuuuuck!â
his fist tightens in your hair and he pulls your head up, pushing the fat tip of his cock against your lips. you open and gag when he fucks his hips upwards, his dick hitting the back of your throat. âoh fuck yeah,â he breathes, fucking your face. âmhmmmmm. gonna knock up your fuckinâ throat baby, you like that? huh? you want that? wanna taste me? savor it? l-like a goddamn littleâŠ. mmmmph! fuckinâ ball slut, huh? donât even care âbout my cock, just my cum filled sack, yeah? âm gonna fuckinâ give it to you.â
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đđźđđąđš đđđŹđđđ«đ„đąđŹđ ~ đđđ«đđ§đ đđ« đđĄđąđ§đ đŹ | đđđ«đ đ
strictly 18+ only // all content warnings can be found on each link
forwarning: obviously the voices arenât going to sound exactly like the actors / characters so Iâve gone more for how the vibes and attitudes fit with the characters, youâll just have to use your imagination tbh my darlings!!
most of these are intended for female // afab listeners
other than that go wild and happy listening my babies <3
Eddie Munson
Eddie making you cum for the first time
topping a secretly insecure Eddie
Eddie trying to be rough for the first time
fucking Eddie after a dnd game
you and Eddieâa first time together
Eddie âI donât think I can be gentle with you tonightâ Munson
getting high and fucking at a party
Steve Harrington
your first time with Steve
friends to lovers with Steve (this mentions stranger things so itâs kinda meta lmao)
having a quickie in a closet at a party
your friend Steve catches you masturbating
Steve thinking about you and jerking off
Billy Hargrove
stripping for Billy
Billy puts bratty kitten reader in their place
Billy watching / helping you fuck yourself
hatefucking your ex Billy
Billy fucking you at a party (this one really sounds like him Iâm screaming)
Robin Buckley
enemies to lovers / hate fucking Robin
you and Robin hookup at a lake house getaway
thanking Robin for helping you study
taking care of Robin, her calling you mommy
encouraging you take a break from work, helping you destress
Robin showering her shy girlfriend with praise and affection
Nancy Wheeler
brat tamer Nancy teaching you patience
dom Nancy lets you ride her boot
playing truth or dare leads you to hooking up
a âtutorâ session with Nancy
getting dressed all pretty for Nancy
you and Nancy escape a party so you can hookup
Jonathan Byers
taking Jonathanâs virginity
Jonathan eating you out whilst you work
encouraging you to come back to bed
edging sub Jonathan
link to search website yourselfÂ
main masterlist // stranger things masterlist // stranger things audio list part one // stranger things audio list - other characters
p.s. I will keep adding more as and when I find them / when theyâre sent to me <3
on that note, if you find any you think would fit the characters please do feel free to send them my way so I can add them to the list!!
tagging: @mothdruid @chaoticvigilantes @simp-lyme @brighteyedbushybrowed @haiishodenki @botanicalbarnes @dreamerlandz @kaitioo @multixfandomwriter @courtneyslove @elenarenee07 @anxiously-sidequesting @stargazineyes @celestbarnes @allthecurls-misc @luv-flor7777 @eddiemunsonswife21 @edensbuttercups @thegreatkneetaker @prettyboy-20 @brynnwrites
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i will gladly give steve harrington six little nuggets đ«Ą
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Can we get some dirty talking smut with a shy reader. Billy is so cocky and experienced I bet he just loovvves dirty talking the shy quiet girl into screaming his name. đđ love your work darling! đđ
Scream My Name
Summary - Billy doesnât like I when you get too shy
Warnings - Smut, filfth lmao
A/N - Hope you enjoy! đ ty for requesting love!
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Itty Bitty Pretty | Steve Harrington
ă PAIRING: steve harrington x female!reader
ă TROPE/GENRE: established relationship; mild angst; fluff; smut (18+)
ă SUMMARY: You overheard Steveâs and Robinâs debate about boobies being slightly overrated. It wouldâve been amusing until Steve listed certain traits of boobs he found attractive. Being a member of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee, you started feeling insecure with yours.
ă WARNINGS: not set in a particular timeline (but steve & robin still work at family video), boobs/boobies & tits/titties, steveâs poor wording, steve loves (your) boobies, small misunderstanding, mentions of toxic parents (both steve & reader), past bullying, pet names (babe, baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, angelâŠitâs a lot), inexperienced!shy!reader, best!boyfriend!steve, dorky!steve, insecurities, fluffy reassurances, domestic bliss (!!!), showering together, steve babying/doting over r, first i love youâs, sweet & slow to intense smut (a gear shift, if u will), 18+ Content [MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!] ~ extended warnings below the cut!
ă WORD COUNT:Â 19.7k+ (she big like steveâs coâ)
A/N: first time i saw the infamous boobies scene, this idea immediately popped into my head. i, myself, have small tits. like leaning down/arms pushing up to show cleavage? i donât know her LMAO. so this is dedicated to all you lovelies out there who sometimes feel insecure with their breast size <3 all boobies are pretty no matter what!
++ also, basically, itâs become a thing that i only post smut once a year a.k.a. i unleash the harlot in me with no restraints any time of the year lmao. so this the 2022 Edition. so with that said, donât expect anything groundbreaking đ bc again, i rarely write smut. also wrote this in 6/7 days so might be rush & i also proofread this once and kinda gave up halfway thru. but i hope you enjoy!! <3
đ BLOG NAVIGATION â© STEVE HARRINGTON MASTERLIST â© MAIN MASTERLIST â©
â± âââââ.â
â *ïœĄïœ„ïŸ.â
. *ïœĄïœ„ïŸâ«*.
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billy hargrove | i need my girl
masterlist | request
words: 3k
warnings: sexual harassment, mentions of domestic abuse, billy being a drunk asshole (with an apology), strong language, alcohol, smoking, relationship angst, brief mention of reader having period cramps and brief mention of fatphobia.
prompt: Reader finds out that Billy get stuck at a party and reader had to drive to her house so he doesn't get in trouble by his father. Billy say some mean thing to reader while being drunk.
AN: I've been listening to "I Need My Girl" by the National A LOT and somehow this ended up fitting right in with the prompt. just in case you like music with your fics!
Youâre in your bedroom when he calls you, your pink telephone ringing. Youâve been expecting it. Nobody ever calls you on a Saturday night. Nobody but him. Youâve been waiting, anxious, because heâs at a party and youâre not, and you know what heâs like when he drinks too much.
âHello?â you answer upon picking up, slipping a bookmark between the pages youâd been reading and crossing your legs.
Billyâs voice is slurred and gravelly on the other side as he yells, âShut the fuck up. Shut up. I canât hear my girl.â
You roll your eyes, though the term of endearment warms your chest.
âBabe?â he asks finally, and you imagine him swaying by the telephone, or maybe draped across a couch. You hear the sound of laughter in the background and wonder what kind of fun heâs been having tonight. Whether he misses you, or if the loud music is enough to drown you out of his thoughts for hours on end. Not like you. Youâve been worrying, imagining, all evening. Itâs been a rough week with his dad, and Billy needed desperately to blow off steam, he said.
You never dare ask what "blowing off steam" consists ofânot when he does it in the likes of Carolâs house, with prettier, popular girls. Not that you donât trust him. You just know how he loses his head to impulse and self-destruction when heâs struggling. Worse when heâs drunk. Trying to talk him out of it only makes him feel smothered. He needs his space, and you have to live with that.
âWhatâs up, Billy?â You sigh and push the book away, rubbing your tired eyes.
âNot annoyed at me, are ya?â he asks. âDonât be like that, baby. Donât be grumpy.â
âIâm not. Just tired.â
âOh, câmon. Youâre missinâ me. You can admit it.â It feels like heâs rubbing it in. Because all you wanted tonight was to stay in, rent a movie, and eat popcorn in his arms. But he hadnât wanted to. He rarely does. Where youâre an introvert through and through, he only wants to jump from one rowdy moment to the next, never staying still for long enough to think, feel. And sometimes, you wonder if itâs because youâre not really what he wants. He claims to like your bookish, softer side, the fact youâre not like the other idiots he hangs out withâand yet when it comes down to it, he always chooses to hang out with them before you.
âLook, Iâm about to go to sleep, soââ
âNo, no, no,â he protests. âYou canât sleep. I need youâŠneed you tâpick me up.â
You sigh and check the clock on your bedside table. Itâs two am, youâre in your pyjamas, and you're suffering from a mean case of period cramps. Going out to pick up your drunken boyfriend is the last thing you want to do. âI canât. Itâs late. Canât you catch a ride?â
âNo. No. I canât go home tonight.â Sadness shimmers in his tone. âNeilâll kill me if he sees me drunk.â
âThen stay at Carolâs for the night. Iâm sure she wonât mind.â It's petty, even for you, and you hate to be the jealous girlfriend.
His irritated huff crackles down the line. âI wanna see you. Wanna stay with you. Câmon, babe.â
You close your eyes, pain lancing through your chest. He knows you canât deny him when he pleads with you like a desperate child. âAlright. Iâll be there soon.â
âGreat. Youâre the best.â
âBillyââ
Heâs already hung up, leaving you to talk to an empty, droning receiver.
You slam it down and pull on the first clothes you find, exhausted and already dreading what youâll find when you get to the party.
***
For good reason. As soon as you get out of the car, you hear the screeches of drunks twirling around the garden, abandoning empty beer cans and cigarette butts. Music blares from inside, silhouettes dancing in the window against flashing lights. Billy isnât anywhere outside, which only makes things worse.
You steel yourself before stepping in, crossing your arms over your chest, since you didnât have time to so much as put a bra on beneath your loose sweater. Your car keys jingle in your hand, your only comfort when sour, alcohol-laced breath wafts around you and bodies bump into you. âHey, youâre Hargroveâs girl,â one of them mutters.
âNot for much longer,â you reply through gritted teeth. Not if this becomes a habit.
Itâs Carol you stumble across first, bleary-eyed and smirking. âLookinâ for Billy?â
You nod. âYeah.â
âHeâs got you on a tight leash.â She sneers, looking you up and down before pointing to the couch. âOver there.â
Anger pricks through you, but you take a deep breath and march over to the couch without another word. A reaction is what they want, and they wonât get one from you.
Billy lays sprawled on the couch, a bottle of whiskey in his hands and his eyes unfocused. His face is slick with sweat, his torso bare and his T-shirt and jacket strewn on the floor. He attempts to sit up when he sees you, eyes brightening. âBaaaaabe. You came for me.â
âUh-huh,â you mumble, picking up his abandoned clothes. âPut your shirt on.â
âUh-oh. Sheâs moody,â he pretends to whisper to the boy beside him, Tommy, who laughs as his eyes rake across you with something you donât like.
âIsnât she always? You picked the most uptight bitch in Hawkins.â He nudges Billy as if heâs in on the joke, and he laughs just to prove it.
It stings. Burns. You didnât come here to be mocked by your boyfriendâs friends. You came here to take him home. âYou wanna walk home?â you ask him, voice clipped.
âNow look.â Billy pulls his shirt on inside out, an oily smile on his face. âYou poked the bear. Sheâs gonna be a pain in my ass all night.â
It isnât just the words that make your stomach twist, but the way heâs talking about you as though you arenât even there. You get enough of it at school. You shouldnât have to endure it now, too. Not from him. He can be hot-headed, loud, and youâre patient because you know itâs a result of his father, but thisâŠthis is different. This is dehumanising. It makes you feel so small, you want to disappear.
You canât even walk out. Not with Billy in this state, his eyes hooded and his limbs clumsy. He could run out into the road or pass out, choke on his own vomit, anything. And you know even now, deep in your heart, that he wouldnât have called you tonight if he didnât need to. Itâs not something he makes a habit of, and not just because his friends like to poke fun.
So you just stand and you take it, offering your hand. âCâmon. Letâs go home.â
âYeah, Billy. Do what your mom says. Off you go.â Tommy slaps his shoulder in jest as Billy attempts to haul himself off the couch. In the end, he only ends up pulling you back down with him, his unstable weight too much for you to bear on your own. You end up on his lap with an âoof.â
âOn second thought, sheâs got a pretty nice ass, huh?â A hand lands on your rear end, and it isnât Billyâs. âLet me know when youâre done with her. I wouldnât mind a go myself.â Tommy is chortling like a five-year-old as you slap him away, your cheeks turning a furious shade of red.
And BillyâŠyou see the anger, the clarity, seep into his hazy eyes. See him stagger up off the couch. See him grab Tommy by the collar of his shirt, pinning him to the couch. âThe fuck did you say?â
âWoah. Chill out,â Tommy says, eyes wide and his smug smirk long gone. âI was just messinâ around.â
âYeah? Well you can go mess around with yourself. Donât fuckinâ touch my girl. Asshole.â Billy is trembling, and you swallow as fear rises in you.
âBilly,â you whisper, attempting to pry him away before a punch is thrown. âPlease. Letâs just go home.â Tears flood your vision when you realise everyone is watching. Youâve been humiliated by every single person in this room, including the only man you thought you could trust.
Billy doesnât let go. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, rage tightening the tendons in his wrists, his knuckles turning white around Tommyâs shirt.
âBilly,â you beg again. âPlease. I want to go home.â Your voice cracks pathetically, and you hate yourself for it.
But Billy loosens his grip slowly, the vein in his forehead throbbing. âDonât even look at her again, or I swear to god, Iâll kill you.â
Tommy only lifts his hands in surrender, pale and shaken.
âCome on,â you murmur, dragging Billy by the arm. He follows, stumbling until he slips his arm around you just to keep himself upright. Your teeth clench with the effort it takes to guide him out of the house, glad when the fresh air hits your clammy face.
âWhat a fuckinâ dick,â Billy is mumbling in your ear. âI shouldnât have come to this fuckinâ party. I hate that guy, Y/N.â
Finally, you reach your car, pulling open the passenger door and throwing Billy in with little tenderness. You slam the door on him, anger still rippling through you as you round the bonnet and slip into the driverâs side.
âWoah, woah,â he winces, âWhatâs with the slamminâ doors?â
You canât say anything. If you do, youâll explode, and thereâs no use having an argument with him when heâs like this. Instead, you turn on the radio, fist the steering wheel with shaking hands, and drive.
âWhat, youâre not talking to me now?â He pokes you in your ribs, teasing, but you keep your glare on the road ahead. âOh, câmon. You know I hate the silent treatment.â
And you canât help it. You explode. You veer off the road, coming to a halt by the tree line so you can face him properly. âYou know what I hate, Billy? I hate being humiliated in front of everybody. I hate being talked about like Iâm not there. Like Iâm just the butt of your shitty fucking jokes. Like you donât even want to be with me. I hate feeling like a piece of fucking shit because I came to get you, to help you, when you asked me to.â
He blinks, tucking his chin into his chest and sighing. âI know. And Tommy was way out of lineââ
âIâm not talking about Tommy!â you screamâand regret it instantly when he flinches. He hates shouting. Hates being shouted at. You know that. Youâre just so fucking angry, so hurt. You sigh; scrape your hand across your face before continuing, quieter. âIâm talking about you. The way you spoke to me, the way you laughed at his jokes. It feltâŠâ your eyes well with tears, and you clutch your chest as though thereâs a knife there, because thatâs what it feels like. Youâve lived your entire life this way, getting nothing but laughed at by your parents, siblings, friends. For being too nerdy, too chubby, too everything. Everyone treats you like you're nothing. You just never thought he would, too. But heâs looking at you like youâre speaking a different language, a stray curl falling into his eyes, and you know itâs useless trying to make him understand. So you shake your head and focus on the road again. âNever mind. Doesnât matter. Letâs just go home.â
âY/NâŠâ
You turn the radio back on to drown him out, but it does nothing to staunch your tears. You feel his gaze on you the entire time, and it only makes it worse, until soon your bottom lip is wobbling and you have to clamp down on it, have to wipe the tears from your eyes so the lights around you are no longer blurred.
âShit,â Billy mumbles finally.
Itâs all he says until you pull up in front of your house. Your bedroom light is still on, while the rest of the street is pitch-black.
You shut off the engine, exhausted and numb, and unfasten your belt. But when you try to get out, his fingers curl around your wrist, keeping you there.
You canât look at him yet, so you look at the garden path behind him.
âBaby,â he says softly. âIâve fucked up. I know. I know I have.â
You canât argue with that.
Frustratedly, he scrapes his hair back. âI shouldnât have made those bullshit jokes. I donât know why I did it. I donât know why I do a lot of things.â
More tears, this time flowing faster, rolling down your jaw, your neck, dripping onto your sweater. Your ass still burns from the feeling of Tommyâs hand. âYou know, he wouldnât have touched me like that if you hadnât laughed at me first. When you treat me like that, youâre telling him itâs okay to treat me like that, too. That Iâm just a joke to you.â
âYou know youâre not.â He brings your hand to his lips; kisses the back of it, and then your thumb ring and your knuckles, so soft and bearing no resemblance at all to the man at the party. He stinks of alcohol, and it means nothing. âIâm sorry, baby. Iâm so, so sorry.â
You pull your hand away, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes and sniffing. âWeâll talk about it tomorrow.â
âNo.â His brows furrow. âNo. No. DonâtâŠplease donât. I said Iâm sorry. Please donâtâŠplease donât leave me.â
Surprise flutters through you. You tilt your head. âWhat?â
âYou canât break up with me. You canât.â He shakes his head, his own eyes glossy now, and no longer just with the booze. Fear is written all over his face. Fear like youâve never seen before, even after Neil's beatings. âI know I fucked up. I know. I know. But we can fix it. I can fix it. I swear to god I can.â
âIâm not breaking up with you. Iâm just upset. Iâm upset, Billy, and I canât talk to you when youâre drunk because I donât think you understand why.â
âI do. I do understand. I was a fucking shit. I was soâŠgod, I felt like him.â His upper lip curls with contempt, and you know who heâs talking about. His dad. âYou deserve so much better than that.â
You press your head against the cool window, closing your eyes so you donât have to look at his broken features anymore. You hear the click of him unfastening his seatbelt, and then the weight of his rough hands on your thigh as he shuffles closer. âItâs worse âcos I missed you so fuckinâ bad tonight. Kept thinking about how I could have just been home with you, but I was out gettinâ wasted, acting like a prick instead. And I donât know why. I donât know why Iâm ruining the only good thing I have. And I donât know why youâre still with me.â
You know heâd never say these things if he was sober, never admit them. But you also know theyâre true, because he isnât in the habit of being vulnerable like this unless he really means it.
âIâm with you because I love you," you say. "I justâŠI just sometimes wonder if you feel the same. If weâre right for each other. Iâm never going to dance with you at a party or get wasted. Iâm never going to like your friends, especially not now.â
âHeâs not my friend.â It was practically a growl. âAnd youâre wrong.â He squeezes your leg. âYouâre the only good thing I have. Youâre my girl. I need you. Iâll do better. I will. I swear to fuckinâ god, I will.â
You donât reply; donât know what to say. You want so badly to believe him, but you donât know if itâs enough anymore.
Until he says, âI donât think I know. Yâknow. How to have a good thing without destroying it. Iâm so scared ofâŠof losing you. Of being like him. And I think tonight I was waitinâ to see how far youâd go. How much youâd take. Like I wanted to show you the worst part of me, the ugliest parts. Maybe I wanted to drive you away now so you wouldn't leave me later. But I never meant for it to get that bad. I never, ever want you to be hurt, not by me or anyone else. I know it doesnât make any sense, but I justââ
âIt does make sense,â you croak finally, letting your hand wander back into his.
âIâm fucked up, Y/N.â
A tear rolls down his cheek. You swipe it away with the pad of your thumb. âMaybe I am, too. âCos it was so goddamn easy for me to fall apart tonight. To feel like nothing. And maybe I was expecting that, too. That youâd realise sooner or later Iâm not what you want. That IâmâŠâ Your chin quivers.
âDonât.â He shakes his head slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so delicately it makes you feel like precious glass. âYouâre all I want. You are.â He rests his forehead against yours. He smells like whiskey and cigarettes, and you donât mind anymore, because itâs him, and you love him, and you forget sometimes how fragile this thing is between you. How easily one of you could break it. And perhaps how youâve both been waiting for it to break, somehow.
But in the dark silence of the car, your hands locked together and your tears mingling, you forge it into something stronger.
âIt wonât happen again. It wonât,â he promises.
âIt canât,â you reply, because itâs true. Youâll allow one mistake, one bad night, but your heart wonât take much more. Not like that, anyway.
âIt wonât,â he repeats, brushing his lips against the tip of your nose. He doesnât try to go further, doesnât try to kiss you, and youâre glad. Heâs drunk and you're tired, and you just need him to be gentle with you. âIt wonât.â
You end up falling asleep with him like that in the car, uncomfortable but safe again, nestled against his chest. And in the morning, Billyâs grovelling begins.
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Dear minors,
WHY ARE YOU EVEN ON HERE
Literally minors fuck off.
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I want perv!eddie to be my boyfriend :((
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Sometimes I imagine what itâd be like if you ask me out, then I remember weâre not going to the same school again next year. Iâm gonna miss you so bad, boy. You got me fucked up in the head in a good way. Iâm wishing with all my heart youâd ask me for my number or I pull the courage out of my ass to ask you for yours. I like you so much and youâll never even know, N.M.
Ilysm,
-a
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screaming. crying. throwing up.
We all know that Eddie's dad was a colossal dickhead to Eddie, so when his dad turns up again Eddie has a freeze response, completely shuts down, when his dad starts to hassle you, all hell breaks loose and Eddie unleashes many years of pent up resentment and anger onto his dad. His dad can mess with Eddie, but no one messes with Eddie's princess
all my homies hate eddie's birth father, thanks for requesting!
tw for violence (not very graphic), eddie's dad is gross, fem!reader, 1.1k
edit: 2 days up and itâs my first piece of writing to hit 1k notes iâm not saying iâm gonna cry but iâm gonna cry
The emptiness behind his eyes scares you. Heâs normally so vibrant - even when itâs a negative emotion itâs always there, clear on his face and bright in his eyes. This complete shutdown is as new to you as it is disconcerting.
Itâs instinct that drives you forward to Eddieâs side, one hand reaching out to hold his as the other wraps around his elbow. You donât even spare a glance at the older Munson, your worried gaze laser focused on Eddie.
The leery âwell, hello there, sweetheart,â barely even registers with you, but based on the way Eddieâs hand twitches in yours, he heard it all too loud and clear.
âNow, son, you didnât tell me you had such a pretty little thing tucked back here with you or I mightâve visited a little sooner.â
This time you shoot a disgusted look over your shoulder at the older man. Itâs wasted, though, as you see his gaze is well and truly fixed where your skirt stops midway down your thighs.
Gross.
But, honestly, youâre more mad at the way heâd casually referred to Eddie as âsonâ, as if he had any right.
You turn back to Eddie and find yourself half relieved and half worried at what you can now see on his face.
Anger is burning bright in his normally kind eyes as he watches his father leer at your legs. Youâre glad to see the blank look has disappeared, but flashes of Eddie throwing punches at the men who get a little too handsy walking past you in bars run through your mind.
It didnât happen often, but when it did it was always in defence of you, and you canât imagine how much worse it could be with the rage he feels towards his father behind it.
The impressed-sounding âfuuucking hell, boy,â is the final straw.
One second Eddieâs in front of you and the next heâs gone, brushing past you to sucker punch his own father. The first hit just seems to surprise him, but before he can react thereâs second contact and he goes down.
Thatâs usually where it ends when heâs defending you from a creep. Itâs not where it ends tonight.
Eddie follows him down, grasping the older manâs shirt to lift him a little only to throw him violently back to the ground a moment later. He gets in at least four more punches before your frozen body finally reacts.
âWhoa, whoa, whoa,â you rush towards the men on the floor, managing to get a hand on the front of Eddieâs shoulder to manoeuvre him backwards as you squash your way in between them. âThatâs enough, Eddie. Heâs not worth it.â
It takes a second, but his eyes slide to you and almost immediately his tense shoulders slump.
Eddie stands and you follow closely behind, reaching to place your hands on his chest gently, half to keep him back and half to steady him.
Heâs looking past you to the man groaning expletives on the floor.
âYou donât even fucking look at her, asshole.â He spits at his father, one hand pulling you closer into him.
âCome on,â you say, blatantly ignoring the grumbled complaints of the man who seems to have given in and flopped straight onto his back. You take Eddie by his elbows and gently lead him over to the sofa. âIâll call Hop.â
Another delayed reaction takes place, Eddieâs eyes snapping up to you just a moment too late.
âWhat?â His gaze flickers back over your shoulder as he seems to realise what heâs just done. âFuck. This doesnât look good.â
Your hands cup his cheeks as you gently encourage him to look at you, trying your best to make him see confidence and reassurance in your gaze.
âItâs self-defence. Strange man broke in, made unwanted advances on your girl...â You gently knock your nose against his once in a gesture of affection, smiling a little. âYou got yourself a witness. Promise.â
His smile is small but full of relief.
After a rushed call to Hopper you pull out a few objects from the freezer. Youâd invested in an ice pack after the second time Eddie had punched someone for you, so you grab that for him, but you also pull out a frozen dinner for one and throw it carelessly at the man still hunched on the floor.
Heâs not as dazed as he once was, but hasnât made an attempt to stand yet. The meal thwacks against his stomach and he lets out a loud huff of air at the impact before picking it up to press against his head, wisely keeping his mouth shut.
Itâs not until after the cops have carted him away, Hop familiar enough with Eddie and his father that he barely even questions your version of events, that you finally get a minute to look Eddie over properly, gently looping your hands around his wrists to pull them closer to you.
His thoughts have apparently headed in a similar direction because youâve only made one sweeping glance over his bruised, less swollen (thank you, ice pack) hands when he speaks softly.
âAre you okay, princess?â
Your eyes flicker up to where his are already looking at you.
âAm I okaâ Are you kidding?â You sound baffled as your brows twitch into a frown. Eddie wants to brush the lines away with his thumb but your hands are still circling his wrists. âAre you okay?â
The obvious concern in your voice is reflected in your eyes and thatâs what makes him snap. He feels his eyes mist up and, though youâve seen him cry before, he hides his face in your neck, forehead pressed against the junction where your throat meets your collarbone.
Your hands donât hesitate to come up and cup the back of his head, fingers sinking gently into his curls as you hum quietly.
âHey,â you murmur comfortingly, one hand slipping down to rub the back of his neck softly. âItâs okay, baby. Iâve got you.â A moment passes before you speak again. âHeâs gone and Iâm here. Itâs gonna be okay, sweet boy.â
Youâve just watched him beat the shit out of his own father and youâre still calling him things like sweet boy. Still holding him reverently. Still soothing the cracked pieces of his heart.
âI love you,â he mumbles against your throat, knowing the words pale in comparison to what heâs trying to express.
Thank you doesnât fit either, but heâs too drained to try and uncover the right words for his complex emotions.
You twist your head a little, your cheek pressing gently against his temple as you feel the damp drop of tears on your shoulder.
âI love you too, baby. Always.â
requests are open but no promises i just go where the inspo takes me
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PLEASE IM LITERALLY GOING FERAL FOR THIS
okay but eddie meeting a soft, girly, absolute princess. most of her bed is covered in stuffies and frilly pillows. she dresses exclusively in pale pinks, baby blues, and ivory whites. never seen her in pants; always skirts. pigtails, lip gloss, heart- and butterfly-shaped charms. if reader is black, any beads or decor she puts in her hair are cutesy and pastel. if reader uses henna, all of her designs are riddled with flowers. she's a little angel, outgoing and sweet as pie.
imagine him finding out that, secretly, she's a sex fiend. she has hot pink handcuffs and an outrageous pink dildo. she has everyone convinced she has some fluffy white dog when actually all those pretty collars and leashes are for her. she has a whole drawer full of lacy lingerie, the only black she wears is leather, and she has two different reels of rope -- one soft and silky, one coarse and scratchy.
imagine her sitting cross-legged on her bed, holding a massive brown teddy bear in her lap, the bow on its neck matching the one she wears on her own, looking up at eddie through her long lashes, asking if he'd mind splitting her open and fucking her until she can't walk? let her be his good girl, let her choke on his cock, and maybe as a reward he could eat her out and take her out for a strawberry milkshake afterward?
imagine this guy a flabbergasted yet horny mess. trying to find the words, while she's so confident.
"are you okay, eds? you don't have to tie me up the first time if you don't want to."
"maybe you just want to watch a movie to get you going? here, i have a few. i'll let you choose from the less... hardcore ones."
"oh, are you a switch? it's okay! i've dated switches before. i have a strap-on somewhere..."
and this guy -- this poor guy -- has to go out in public with her afterward. he has to hold her hand and hold serious conversations when he knows she's an absolutely filthy, depraved woman on the inside. knowing the only thing between his cum in her pussy and her pleated skirt is a thatch of pubic hair and the very thin seat of her flowery, purple panties.
just... am i going to have to write this myself? or is someone going to help me?
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BRO OK OK OK Iâll be absolutely ON MY KNEES, begging, BARKING FOR SOMEONE (probs a fictional character) and 5 days later the obsession will be gone. like?? my heart wants them but my head says naw you like no one now BITCH
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