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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 can’t get his “six nuggets” 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 🥺🥺!!!!! 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 who���s just babbling incessantly, and dustin’s determined to get the little ray of sunshine to understand Ducktales

one of the kids LOVES fiddling with dustin’s 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 he’s busy, making them snacks and sandwiches and bringing them toys

uncle dusty 🥹

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 “FAMILY PARTIES” 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, missy”

family picnics, family drive-in movies, family walks in the park, family game night, family apple picking, family beach days, family camping trips (+ steve’s insane bonfire skills), family crafts, family pillow forts, family baking

that’s 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 ‘o’ freaks… but it’s 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 you’ve read them about four picture books (and an encore), and he’s 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, it’s 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 he’s got insane body heat so you don’t 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 he’s so encouraging anyway

teaching them to catch and throw and dunk and swim and dive- oH my god, he’s 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 he’s feeling, but it’s 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 don’t have a camper because you told him it might be excessive, but hey, he’s 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 they’re inside all day pls 😭

okay…. you don’t do as much together [in bed] anymore because of the kids, but whenever you get the chance, he’s crazy sensitive, even when you just trace his skin or kiss his moles, he’s like arching off the mattress going wild

and he’s not shy about his ‘i love you’s

well, maybe he is, but he’s 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 🥴), 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 he’s so gross, i want him)

him occasionally whipping out his old letterman and putting it on just to tease you, using his specially reserved ‘king steve’ 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. it’s not a phase.

pulling you in for so many random kisses, always telling you how gorgeous and incredible you look even if you’re 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 don’t take criticism

he’s 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

[angelhugsaresweet]

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.

[angelhugsaresweet]

someone pls find it i need to it too ml <3 😭

OK LISTEN

there’s a picture that is a guy with his hands on a girl’s waist in bed, her butt is on his lap, sorta in this position:

but she’s in pink panties (i think) and it’s 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 i’m talking about, please send it to me? k thx

[angelhugsaresweet]

GodDAMN ball worship with Steve

😩😩😩😩😩

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.

“shit,” 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. “y’like that, honey?”

“mhm.” you’re so meek while doing something so sinful.

steve moans breathily, licks his lips again. they’re dry from how his jaw hangs. “can you taste me? hm? all the cum in my balls?”

“uh-huh.” 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.

“no, baby,” he sighs. “don’t cheat ‘n try to taste my precum. you get my load in that pretty mouth of yours when i tell you, got it?”

you nod, your dark eyes looking up at him. steve whines and lets his head fall back, nostrils flaring. “suck on ‘em, honey. yeah, like… like th… fuuuuuck!”

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. “oh fuck yeah,” he breathes, fucking your face. “mhmmmmm. gonna knock up your fuckin’ throat baby, you like that? huh? you want that? wanna taste me? savor it? l-like a goddamn little…. mmmmph! fuckin’ ball slut, huh? don’t even care ‘bout my cock, just my cum filled sack, yeah? ‘m gonna fuckin’ give it to you.”

[angelhugsaresweet]

𝐀𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ~ 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

strictly 18+ only // all content warnings can be found on each link

forwarning: obviously the voices aren’t going to sound exactly like the actors / characters so I’ve gone more for how the vibes and attitudes fit with the characters, you’ll 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 Eddie’a first time together

Eddie ‘I don’t think I can be gentle with you tonight’ 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 it’s 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 I’m 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 ‘tutor’ session with Nancy

getting dressed all pretty for Nancy

you and Nancy escape a party so you can hookup

Jonathan Byers

taking Jonathan’s virginity

Jonathan eating you out whilst you work

encouraging you to come back to bed

edging sub Jonathan

link to search website yourself 

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 they’re 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

[angelhugsaresweet]

i will gladly give steve harrington six little nuggets 🫡

[angelhugsaresweet]

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. 😏😈 love your work darling! 💓😚

Scream My Name

Summary - Billy doesn’t like I when you get too shy

Warnings - Smut, filfth lmao

A/N - Hope you enjoy! 💕 ty for requesting love!

Keep reading

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Itty Bitty Pretty | Steve Harrington

》 PAIRING: steve harrington x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship; mild angst; fluff; smut (18+)

》 SUMMARY: You overheard Steve’s and Robin’s debate about boobies being slightly overrated. It would’ve 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.

》 WARNINGS: not set in a particular timeline (but steve & robin still work at family video), boobs/boobies & tits/titties, steve’s poor wording, steve loves (your) boobies, small misunderstanding, mentions of toxic parents (both steve & reader), past bullying, pet names (babe, baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, angel…it’s 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 you’s, sweet & slow to intense smut (a gear shift, if u will), 18+ Content [MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!] ~ extended warnings below the cut!

》 WORD COUNT: 19.7k+ (she big like steve’s co—)

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 don’t 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, it’s 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, don’t expect anything groundbreaking 😭 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

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ STEVE HARRINGTON MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ���*.

Keep reading

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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!

You’re in your bedroom when he calls you, your pink telephone ringing. You’ve been expecting it. Nobody ever calls you on a Saturday night. Nobody but him. You’ve been waiting, anxious, because he’s at a party and you’re not, and you know what he’s like when he drinks too much.

“Hello?” you answer upon picking up, slipping a bookmark between the pages you’d been reading and crossing your legs.

Billy’s voice is slurred and gravelly on the other side as he yells, “Shut the fuck up. Shut up. I can’t hear my girl.”

You roll your eyes, though the term of endearment warms your chest.

“Babe?” 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 he’s 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. You’ve been worrying, imagining, all evening. It’s 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 of—not when he does it in the likes of Carol’s house, with prettier, popular girls. Not that you don’t trust him. You just know how he loses his head to impulse and self-destruction when he’s struggling. Worse when he’s drunk. Trying to talk him out of it only makes him feel smothered. He needs his space, and you have to live with that.

“What’s up, Billy?” You sigh and push the book away, rubbing your tired eyes.

“Not annoyed at me, are ya?” he asks. “Don’t be like that, baby. Don’t be grumpy.”

“I’m not. Just tired.”

“Oh, c’mon. You’re missin’ me. You can admit it.” It feels like he’s rubbing it in. Because all you wanted tonight was to stay in, rent a movie, and eat popcorn in his arms. But he hadn’t wanted to. He rarely does. Where you’re 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 it’s because you’re not really what he wants. He claims to like your bookish, softer side, the fact you’re not like the other idiots he hangs out with—and yet when it comes down to it, he always chooses to hang out with them before you.

“Look, I’m about to go to sleep, so—”

“No, no, no,” he protests. “You can’t sleep. I need you…need you t’pick me up.”

You sigh and check the clock on your bedside table. It’s two am, you’re 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. “I can’t. It’s late. Can’t you catch a ride?”

“No. No. I can’t go home tonight.” Sadness shimmers in his tone. “Neil’ll kill me if he sees me drunk.”

“Then stay at Carol’s for the night. I’m sure she won’t mind.” It's petty, even for you, and you hate to be the jealous girlfriend.

His irritated huff crackles down the line. “I wanna see you. Wanna stay with you. C’mon, babe.”

You close your eyes, pain lancing through your chest. He knows you can’t deny him when he pleads with you like a desperate child. “Alright. I’ll be there soon.”

“Great. You’re the best.”

“Billy—”

He’s 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 you’ll 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 isn’t anywhere outside, which only makes things worse.

You steel yourself before stepping in, crossing your arms over your chest, since you didn’t 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. “Hey, you’re Hargrove’s girl,” one of them mutters.

“Not for much longer,” you reply through gritted teeth. Not if this becomes a habit.

It’s Carol you stumble across first, bleary-eyed and smirking. “Lookin’ for Billy?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“He’s got you on a tight leash.” She sneers, looking you up and down before pointing to the couch. “Over there.”

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 won’t 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. “Baaaaabe. You came for me.”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, picking up his abandoned clothes. “Put your shirt on.”

“Uh-oh. She’s moody,” he pretends to whisper to the boy beside him, Tommy, who laughs as his eyes rake across you with something you don’t like.

“Isn’t she always? You picked the most uptight bitch in Hawkins.” He nudges Billy as if he’s in on the joke, and he laughs just to prove it.

It stings. Burns. You didn’t come here to be mocked by your boyfriend’s friends. You came here to take him home. “You wanna walk home?” you ask him, voice clipped.

“Now look.” Billy pulls his shirt on inside out, an oily smile on his face. “You poked the bear. She’s gonna be a pain in my ass all night.”

It isn’t just the words that make your stomach twist, but the way he’s talking about you as though you aren’t even there. You get enough of it at school. You shouldn’t have to endure it now, too. Not from him. He can be hot-headed, loud, and you’re patient because you know it’s a result of his father, but this…this is different. This is dehumanising. It makes you feel so small, you want to disappear.

You can’t 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 wouldn’t have called you tonight if he didn’t need to. It’s 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. “C’mon. Let’s go home.”

“Yeah, Billy. Do what your mom says. Off you go.” 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 “oof.”

“On second thought, she’s got a pretty nice ass, huh?” A hand lands on your rear end, and it isn’t Billy’s. “Let me know when you’re done with her. I wouldn’t mind a go myself.” Tommy is chortling like a five-year-old as you slap him away, your cheeks turning a furious shade of red.

And Billy…you 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. “The fuck did you say?”

“Woah. Chill out,” Tommy says, eyes wide and his smug smirk long gone. “I was just messin’ around.”

“Yeah? Well you can go mess around with yourself. Don’t fuckin’ touch my girl. Asshole.” Billy is trembling, and you swallow as fear rises in you.

“Billy,” you whisper, attempting to pry him away before a punch is thrown. “Please. Let’s just go home.” Tears flood your vision when you realise everyone is watching. You’ve been humiliated by every single person in this room, including the only man you thought you could trust.

Billy doesn’t let go. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, rage tightening the tendons in his wrists, his knuckles turning white around Tommy’s shirt.

“Billy,” you beg again. “Please. I want to go home.” Your voice cracks pathetically, and you hate yourself for it.

But Billy loosens his grip slowly, the vein in his forehead throbbing. “Don’t even look at her again, or I swear to god, I’ll kill you.”

Tommy only lifts his hands in surrender, pale and shaken.

“Come on,” 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.

“What a fuckin’ dick,” Billy is mumbling in your ear. “I shouldn’t have come to this fuckin’ party. I hate that guy, Y/N.”

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 driver’s side.

“Woah, woah,” he winces, “What’s with the slammin’ doors?”

You can’t say anything. If you do, you’ll explode, and there’s no use having an argument with him when he’s like this. Instead, you turn on the radio, fist the steering wheel with shaking hands, and drive.

“What, you’re not talking to me now?” He pokes you in your ribs, teasing, but you keep your glare on the road ahead. “Oh, c’mon. You know I hate the silent treatment.”

And you can’t help it. You explode. You veer off the road, coming to a halt by the tree line so you can face him properly. “You know what I hate, Billy? I hate being humiliated in front of everybody. I hate being talked about like I’m not there. Like I’m just the butt of your shitty fucking jokes. Like you don’t 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.”

He blinks, tucking his chin into his chest and sighing. “I know. And Tommy was way out of line—”

“I’m not talking about Tommy!” you scream—and regret it instantly when he flinches. He hates shouting. Hates being shouted at. You know that. You’re just so fucking angry, so hurt. You sigh; scrape your hand across your face before continuing, quieter. “I’m talking about you. The way you spoke to me, the way you laughed at his jokes. It felt…” your eyes well with tears, and you clutch your chest as though there’s a knife there, because that’s what it feels like. You’ve 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 he’s looking at you like you’re speaking a different language, a stray curl falling into his eyes, and you know it’s useless trying to make him understand. So you shake your head and focus on the road again. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter. Let’s just go home.”

“Y/N…”

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.

“Shit,” Billy mumbles finally.

It’s 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 can’t look at him yet, so you look at the garden path behind him.

“Baby,” he says softly. “I’ve fucked up. I know. I know I have.”

You can’t argue with that.

Frustratedly, he scrapes his hair back. “I shouldn’t have made those bullshit jokes. I don’t know why I did it. I don’t know why I do a lot of things.”

More tears, this time flowing faster, rolling down your jaw, your neck, dripping onto your sweater. Your ass still burns from the feeling of Tommy’s hand. “You know, he wouldn’t have touched me like that if you hadn’t laughed at me first. When you treat me like that, you’re telling him it’s okay to treat me like that, too. That I’m just a joke to you.”

“You know you’re not.” 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. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry.”

You pull your hand away, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes and sniffing. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“No.” His brows furrow. “No. No. Don’t…please don’t. I said I’m sorry. Please don’t…please don’t leave me.”

Surprise flutters through you. You tilt your head. “What?”

“You can’t break up with me. You can’t.” 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 you’ve never seen before, even after Neil's beatings. “I know I fucked up. I know. I know. But we can fix it. I can fix it. I swear to god I can.”

“I’m not breaking up with you. I’m just upset. I’m upset, Billy, and I can’t talk to you when you’re drunk because I don’t think you understand why.”

“I do. I do understand. I was a fucking shit. I was so…god, I felt like him.” His upper lip curls with contempt, and you know who he’s talking about. His dad. “You deserve so much better than that.”

You press your head against the cool window, closing your eyes so you don’t 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. “It’s worse ‘cos I missed you so fuckin’ bad tonight. Kept thinking about how I could have just been home with you, but I was out gettin’ wasted, acting like a prick instead. And I don’t know why. I don’t know why I’m ruining the only good thing I have. And I don’t know why you’re still with me.”

You know he’d never say these things if he was sober, never admit them. But you also know they’re true, because he isn’t in the habit of being vulnerable like this unless he really means it.

“I’m with you because I love you," you say. "I just…I just sometimes wonder if you feel the same. If we’re right for each other. I’m never going to dance with you at a party or get wasted. I’m never going to like your friends, especially not now.”

“He’s not my friend.” It was practically a growl. “And you’re wrong.” He squeezes your leg. “You’re the only good thing I have. You’re my girl. I need you. I’ll do better. I will. I swear to fuckin’ god, I will.”

You don’t reply; don’t know what to say. You want so badly to believe him, but you don’t know if it’s enough anymore.

Until he says, “I don’t think I know. Y’know. How to have a good thing without destroying it. I’m so scared of…of losing you. Of being like him. And I think tonight I was waitin’ to see how far you’d go. How much you’d 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 doesn’t make any sense, but I just—”

“It does make sense,” you croak finally, letting your hand wander back into his.

“I’m fucked up, Y/N.”

A tear rolls down his cheek. You swipe it away with the pad of your thumb. “Maybe I am, too. ‘Cos it was so goddamn easy for me to fall apart tonight. To feel like nothing. And maybe I was expecting that, too. That you’d realise sooner or later I’m not what you want. That I’m…” Your chin quivers.

“Don’t.” He shakes his head slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so delicately it makes you feel like precious glass. “You’re all I want. You are.” He rests his forehead against yours. He smells like whiskey and cigarettes, and you don’t mind anymore, because it’s 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 you’ve 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.

“It won’t happen again. It won’t,” he promises.

“It can’t,” you reply, because it’s true. You’ll allow one mistake, one bad night, but your heart won’t take much more. Not like that, anyway.

“It won’t,” he repeats, brushing his lips against the tip of your nose. He doesn’t try to go further, doesn’t try to kiss you, and you’re glad. He’s drunk and you're tired, and you just need him to be gentle with you. “It won’t.”

You end up falling asleep with him like that in the car, uncomfortable but safe again, nestled against his chest. And in the morning, Billy’s grovelling begins.

[angelhugsaresweet]

Dear minors,

WHY ARE YOU EVEN ON HERE

Literally minors fuck off.

[angelhugsaresweet]

I’m a big dick Eddie believer

[angelhugsaresweet]

I want perv!eddie to be my boyfriend :((

[angelhugsaresweet]

Sometimes I imagine what it’d be like if you ask me out, then I remember we’re not going to the same school again next year. I’m gonna miss you so bad, boy. You got me fucked up in the head in a good way. I’m wishing with all my heart you’d 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 you’ll never even know, N.M.

Ilysm,

-a

[angelhugsaresweet]

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 it’s my first piece of writing to hit 1k notes i’m not saying i’m gonna cry but i’m gonna cry

The emptiness behind his eyes scares you.  He’s normally so vibrant - even when it’s a negative emotion it’s always there, clear on his face and bright in his eyes.  This complete shutdown is as new to you as it is disconcerting.

It’s instinct that drives you forward to Eddie’s side, one hand reaching out to hold his as the other wraps around his elbow.  You don’t even spare a glance at the older Munson, your worried gaze laser focused on Eddie.

The leery “well, hello there, sweetheart,” barely even registers with you, but based on the way Eddie’s hand twitches in yours, he heard it all too loud and clear.

“Now, son, you didn’t tell me you had such a pretty little thing tucked back here with you or I might’ve visited a little sooner.”

This time you shoot a disgusted look over your shoulder at the older man.  It’s wasted, though, as you see his gaze is well and truly fixed where your skirt stops midway down your thighs.

Gross.

But, honestly, you’re more mad at the way he’d casually referred to Eddie as ‘son’, 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.  You’re 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 didn’t happen often, but when it did it was always in defence of you, and you can’t imagine how much worse it could be with the rage he feels towards his father behind it.

The impressed-sounding “fuuucking hell, boy,” is the final straw.

One second Eddie’s in front of you and the next he’s gone, brushing past you to sucker punch his own father.  The first hit just seems to surprise him, but before he can react there’s second contact and he goes down.

That’s usually where it ends when he’s defending you from a creep.  It’s not where it ends tonight.

Eddie follows him down, grasping the older man’s 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.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you rush towards the men on the floor, managing to get a hand on the front of Eddie’s shoulder to manoeuvre him backwards as you squash your way in between them.  “That’s enough, Eddie.  He’s not worth it.”

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.

He’s looking past you to the man groaning expletives on the floor.

“You don’t even fucking look at her, asshole.”  He spits at his father, one hand pulling you closer into him.

“Come on,” 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.  “I’ll call Hop.”

Another delayed reaction takes place, Eddie’s eyes snapping up to you just a moment too late.

“What?”  His gaze flickers back over your shoulder as he seems to realise what he’s just done.  “Fuck.  This doesn’t look good.”

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.

“It’s self-defence.  Strange man broke in, made unwanted advances on your girl...”  You gently knock your nose against his once in a gesture of affection, smiling a little.  “You got yourself a witness.  Promise.”

His smile is small but full of relief.

After a rushed call to Hopper you pull out a few objects from the freezer.  You’d 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.

He’s not as dazed as he once was, but hasn’t 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.

It’s 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 you’ve only made one sweeping glance over his bruised, less swollen (thank you, ice pack) hands when he speaks softly.

“Are you okay, princess?”

Your eyes flicker up to where his are already looking at you.

“Am I oka– Are you kidding?”  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.  “Are you okay?”

The obvious concern in your voice is reflected in your eyes and that’s what makes him snap.  He feels his eyes mist up and, though you’ve seen him cry before, he hides his face in your neck, forehead pressed against the junction where your throat meets your collarbone.

Your hands don’t hesitate to come up and cup the back of his head, fingers sinking gently into his curls as you hum quietly.

“Hey,” you murmur comfortingly, one hand slipping down to rub the back of his neck softly.  “It’s okay, baby.  I’ve got you.”  A moment passes before you speak again.  “He’s gone and I’m here.  It’s gonna be okay, sweet boy.”

You’ve just watched him beat the shit out of his own father and you’re still calling him things like sweet boy.  Still holding him reverently.  Still soothing the cracked pieces of his heart.

“I love you,” he mumbles against your throat, knowing the words pale in comparison to what he’s trying to express.

Thank you doesn’t fit either, but he’s 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.

“I love you too, baby.  Always.”

requests are open but no promises i just go where the inspo takes me

[angelhugsaresweet]

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?

[angelhugsaresweet]

BRO OK OK OK I’ll 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