oracleophelia

[oracleophelia]

I am begging fellow fanfic writers to stop writing in the tiny font for aesthetic reasons, it makes your works inaccessible to people with eye issues among other disabilities.

[oracleophelia]

the anonymous button is for respectful questions and confessions of love not an excuse for you to be a demonic bigot

[oracleophelia]

Drive-In Surprise

Pairing: Clyde Logan x Fem!Reader

Summary: Clyde gives you a birthday that you'll never forget.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, happy ending

A/N: This is the first time I've actually written for Writer Wednesday by @autumnleaves1991-blog Tagging @clydesducktape for the masterlist. Thank you both!

Saturdays were quickly becoming your least favorite day. It was the busiest day of the week for Clyde at the Duct Tape, and you were usually scheduled to work. The only reason you were able to take today off, was because it was your birthday. You had initially planned on working your shift like normal, but your coworkers made a big stink about not working on your birthday, so you took the day off.

You dreaded your birthday. By the time you were a teenager, your family hardly ever did anything to celebrate your birthday. No big parties, no special dinners, no cake… nothing. Over time, you had grown annoyed with anyone who did actually try to make it a big deal, always brushing it off as though it was just another day for you. You never had a lot of friends, so even on your twenty-first birthday, you bought yourself a bottle of wine, ordered a pizza, and stayed in for the night, binging your favorite show on Netflix alone.

This year you thought might be a little different. This year, you had Clyde Logan in your life, and that sweet man always knew how to make you feel loved. Clyde had mentioned wanting to do something special for you, but you brushed it off like you always had with anyone else. You told him how your birthday was never a special occasion growing up, and you didn’t care to start celebrating it now.

You had been dating Clyde for about ten months, and over that time, you’ve naturally grown closer to Clyde and his family. You found that the Logan family loved to throw parties, and celebrate even the smallest occasions.

So, when your birthday rolled around, you expected that they would have something planned. After all, for Clyde’s birthday, Jimmy took you all over to Charlotte Motor Speedway, and you all got to go a couple laps around the racetrack with a professional NASCAR driver. Afterwards, half the town came out to the Duct Tape Bar & Grill, and you partied late into the night.

When you woke up that morning to a sticky note on the nightstand from Clyde that said he had to get up early and handle a few deliveries at the bar, you figured that maybe he had simply forgotten what today was. You’d be shocked if you even got a text from your parents wishing you a happy birthday. They tended to forget most years, and would offer a halfhearted apology at the next holiday dinner.

You knew you shouldn’t be upset that Clyde didn’t wish you a happy birthday on his note, especially after telling him that you didn’t care about your birthday, but it still stung a little. For years you told yourself that this was just another ordinary day, but somehow it still hurt when the people closest to you forgot, or simply didn’t care enough to say anything.

Shrugging it off, you rolled out of bed and got ready for the day. You let yourself sleep in until about ten in the morning, since you didn’t have any plans for the day. After showering and making yourself coffee and a late breakfast, you sat on the couch and scrolled endlessly through your phone.

When the afternoon rolled around, you took a nap on the couch, and was woken up when Clyde called four. You groggily answered the phone, put it on speaker, and laid it on your chest.

“Hello?” Your voice cracked, your throat dry from sleep.

“Hey darlin’!” Clyde chimed. “Were you sleepin’?”

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes. “Mhmm. Yea, I took a nap.”

You heard Clyde chuckle. “I’m sorry if I woke ya up. I was callin’ to tell you that ‘m takin’ tonight off.”

That got your attention. Clyde usually never took a Saturday night off, with it being so busy at the bar. He had his backup bartenders, but he still liked to be there to help during the rush.

“Really?” You blurted out.

“Yes ma’am. I have a few things t’ finish up, and then I’ll be home in ‘bout an hour. I was thinkin’ we could go out t’ dinner since ya had the day off work.” He sounded a little nervous.

He still didn’t bring up the fact that it was your birthday, and you were starting to think he really had forgotted, and was just wanting to spend the evening out with you.

“Umm, yea. That sounds like fun, I’ll get myself ready.” You said sitting up, and stretching. “Did you have a place in mind?”

“I do.” He said without any explanation.

“Ooo-kay.” You drew out the ‘O’ sound when he didn’t elaborate. “I’ll see you soon then?”

“See ya soon, honey bee.”

That was strange. Clyde was never one to be short with you, but maybe he was distracted by something at the bar. They would be open and the dinner crowd would have started to trickle in by now.

Shrugging it off, you got ready, putting on something simple but cute. It was still warm outside, but you picked something with layers, not knowing what to expect. Most restaurants were cold inside, and you wanted to be prepared for anything.

When Clyde finally came home, you were stunned to see him driving down the lane in a beautiful light green Ford truck. It was old, like the broken-down orange one you saw for sale months ago near the Duct Tape, but this one looked entirely rebuilt and repainted. Clyde drove it right up to the cabin, a big smile on his face as he saw you rushing out the front door to get a better look.

“Clyde! What is this?” You yelled, skipping down the front porch stairs and running over before he even got fully out of the truck.

Clyde stepped out, looking handsome as ever, freshly showered, wearing a blue button down, his good jeans on, and his dark feathery hair still a little damp. He wrapped his arms around you, and pressed a gently kiss to your forehead. You loved how good he smelled.

“It’s for you, darlin’.” He said, pulling away from you. He held up the keys for you to take that had a little bow tied to them.

“Happy Birthday, honey bee!”

Speechless. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know Clyde ever remembered the one time you mentioned the truck when you passed by it months ago. The two of you were on your way home from a long night at the bar, and you saw it sitting under a street light. You told him you would love to have an old truck just like it.

“Oh Clyde. H-how did you… You shouldn’t have, this is too much.” You eventually sputtered out, reaching up and taking the keys from his hand.

A small tear fell as you looked up at him. You had been needing a new car with your old VW Jetta running on its last leg. You just needed to save up a little more money.

Clyde brushed the tear away with his thumb. “I knew your birthday was comin’ up, so I’ve been helping Jimmy and Earl rebuild that ol’ Ford that sat for sale by the Duct Tape the past couple a months.”

You looked behind him in amazement at the truck. It was perfect, just how you envisioned it would look all fixed up. “Oh Clyde,” you said again. “I-I don’t know what to say. Thank you!” You tossed your arms around him, burying you face in his chest.

Clyde wrapped his arms around you again, rubbing his hand up and down your back. “Now, I know you don’t like to celebrate yer birthday, but I wanted t’ do somethin’ special for ya. T’ make up for all the ones ya didn’t celebrate the right way.”

“Thank you so much, Clyde. This is perfect, I absolutely love it.” You mumbled into his shirt before letting go.

He led you over to the truck, and let you take a look. Clyde opened the door for you and you sat in the driver’s seat. The interior had been reupholstered, white leather seats, an old radio, and a big steering wheel.

“There’s more.”

“More?” You asked with eyes blown wide.

“Mhmm. Come n’ look in the bed.” He held out his hand to help you out of the truck.

Rounding the back, you were a little confused at the what was laid out in the bed. There was a large mat rolled up with folded blankets and pillows, and a basket tied down at the end.

“What’s all this for?” You asked, running your hands over the blankets piled up.

“They’re for the rest of your present.” He said simply before walking up to the cabin to grab your purse and lock up. You stood in bewilderment that there was even more to come.

As much as you wanted to drive your new truck, Clyde said it would be better if he drove to your destination for the evening. He opened the passenger side door for you, and you climbed in. You admired the rest of the interior, falling absolutely in love with your new truck. You still couldn’t believe Clyde had done this.

You drove across town and when Clyde started to turn into the old drive-in movies, you were confused again. The drive-ins that sat on the edge of town hadn’t been used in a long time, with only one of the six screens still standing.

As he drove around the ticket shack, you saw a line of cars already parked, and old movie previews projected on the screen. “I thought this place was closed down.” You pointed out while Clyde was backing into the empty spot in the middle of the cars already parked.

“I know the owner, told them I wanted to surprise a special lady for her birthday. We cleaned up the screen and rented a projector. I think you’re going to like the movies playing tonight.”

By the time Clyde finished explaining, you were in tears, amazed at the fact that he did all of this for you. You went from not expecting anything at all, to a new truck, and a night at the drive-ins with the man you loved. He was so good to you, and you felt bad for even thinking that he had forgotten your birthday, when he had been planning all of this for months.

You covered your face with your hands, hiding the fact that you were on the verge of sobs. Clyde scooted over and your hands, lifting you chin with his hand, his brow knit with concern. “Darlin’, what’s the matter.”

Shaking your head. “No one… No one has ever done anything like this for me. I never expected you to—this is all so wonderful, Clyde. Thank you so so much!” You leaned forward and peppered his face with kisses, and hugged him again. “I love you, Clyde.” You mumbled into the crook of his neck.

“I love ya too, darlin’.”

Clyde squeezed you tight before pointing out the fact there were others waiting for you two. He helped you wipe away the happy tears that ran down your face, and running around to open the door for you. He was always such a gentleman.

Outside was a table set up with hotdogs, popcorn, and other drive-in movie snacks. All of Clyde’s family was there, and you walked over to greet them as they were filling their plates with snacks. Mellie hugged you tight, wishing you a happy birthday and handing you a gift bag full of your favorite beauty products. Sadie gave you a small bag with a necklace that she picked out for you.

Bobbie Jo and Moody even drove up from Lynchburg with the twins to join in on the fun. Moody told you if you ever wanted to trade in the truck, he’d give you a good deal on something new. That earned him a nice punch on the arm by Bobbie Jo before they headed back to their car to get settled in for the movie.

While you filled a plate for you and Clyde, he snuck up behind you, and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Time for another surprise, honey bee.” He whispered in your ear.

He took the food from you, and led you back to the truck. Joe Bang as pulling in and hollered out a loud happy birthday as he drove up next to Mellie’s Nova. You laughed and waved while you continued to follow Clyde.

When you saw the back of the truck, you nearly broke out in tears again. The mat had been unrolled and covered with the blankets and pillows. You saw two glasses and a bottle of Champaign on a small make shift table on top of the basket, and a mini cake with a candle on top, which was lit and ready to be blown out.

Clyde helped you climb into the bed, and settled in beside you. The sun was setting behind the screen and the movie was about to start. Clyde pushed the cake towards you and told you to make a wish. You closed your eyes as you blew out the candle, and wished that you could spend every birthday with Clyde.

Unknown to you, that was Clyde’s plan this whole time. As you opened your eyes, Clyde held out a small box, a beautiful ring nestled inside. It was gorgeous, and tears started running down your face as you gasped out loud, brining your hands up to cover the shocked look on your face.

“Will you marry me, darlin’?” Clyde asked with his big brown puppy dog eyes.

You didn’t hesitate to say yes, letting the happy tears flow down your face as he placed the ring on your finger. You hadn’t been with Clyde long, but you knew he was your person, and couldn’t wait to start a new chapter in life with him. You moved over onto his lap and pulled him in close, pressing your lips to his in a deep kiss.

You heard cheering and clapping around you, as the others watched Clyde’s plan play out perfectly. You laughed into his plush pouty lips and continued kissing him until you heard the familiar beginning to one of your favorite movies.

The loud music started, and the beginning crawl for Star Wars: A New Hope stared playing on the screen. You snapped your head from the screen to Clyde, and he had a wide grin on his face, knowing he picked the perfect movie for you.

Needless to say, this birthday would be your favorite one yet. You settled in on Clyde’s lap, his arms wrapped around you, and holding you close as you both enjoyed your favorite movie. This would be a night you would never forget, and you started to think that birthdays might not be so bad after all.

Everything Taglist: @direnightshade @hopeamarsu @mylifeisactuallyamess @cornmousequeen @fizzywoohoo @leatherboundriot @themuseic @miraclesabound

[oracleophelia]

Absolutely love this piece I commissioned from @miranhas-art

I wanted a piece that looked like a cute little photo Ophelia would have up in her bedroom and I'm definitely going to be writing something that goes with this soon. <3

This is NOT Chrissy!!! stop tagging it like that im blocking all of you that do!! for fucks sake

[oracleophelia]

&. 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  various  fluffy  dialogue  prompts  so  soft,  so  sweet,  just  for  you!  )

❛ i just wanted to make sure you’re okay. ❜

❛ there it is, there’s that smile! ❜

❛ you got me flowers? ❜

❛ i’m not afraid of you. ❜

❛ aw, did you miss me? ❜

❛ you’re lucky that you’re cute. ❜

❛ wait, you think i’m cute? ❜

❛ you’re not alone. you never were. ❜

❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜

❛ good morning, sleeping beauty. ❜

❛ it’s better with you here. ❜

❛ don’t worry, i’m staying right here. ❜

❛ you’re welcome to stay, if you want. ❜

❛ don’t be a stranger, okay? ❜

❛ i haven’t laughed like this in a long time. ❜

❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜

❛ you can hold my hand, if you want. ❜

❛ i knew you would be here. ❜

❛ i just wanted to say thank you for protecting me. ❜

❛ before you do anything, try this and tell me what you think. ❜

❛ wow i really can’t speak, huh? must be because of how pretty you look. ❜

❛ we can order pizza, watch a movie, whatever you want. ❜

❛ what, am i not allowed to look at you? ❜

❛ i’m not giving up on you. ❜

❛ is that my shirt? ❜

❛ this is a good look for you. ❜

❛ pinky promise? ❜

❛ c’mere, you. ❜

❛ honey, i’m home! ❜

❛ you remembered? ❜

❛ you’re my family too. ❜

❛ let’s go somewhere, just you and me. ❜

❛ i’m here for you. don’t forget that. ❜

❛ you’re the only thing that matters. ❜

❛ was that your first kiss? ❜

❛ i was worried something happened to you. ❜

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜

❛ relationships are built on trust, and i trust you. ❜

❛ you always see the good in people. even me. ❜

❛ do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are? ❜

❛ nope, puppy dog eyes aren’t going to work this time! ❜

❛ thanks to you, i know what it means to love again. ❜

❛ how about a kiss before i go? ❜

❛ i’m just glad you’re okay. ❜

❛ here we are, home sweet home. ❜

❛ thanks for being here with me. ❜

❛ seeing you happy is all that matters. ❜

❛ keep it. it looks better on you. ❜

❛ i couldn’t stop missing you if i tried. ❜

❛ you feel like home to me. ❜

[oracleophelia]

10 Eddie Munson Headcanons

School has always been his last priority but that isn’t to say he’s not smart.

He’s smart and loves to learn but the teachers of Hawkins have singled him out as a failure primarily because of his parents’ reputations in town.

No matter how hard he tries, the teachers put their opinions of his parents before his effort and that really affects their perception of him. 

At some point in high school, Wayne got injured in the plant and that’s when Eddie began to sell drugs. He got into contact with one of his dad’s friends who was a supplier so that he could take up the role of supporting them while Wayne was recovering.

Definitely has a well loved library card, one of the librarians has a similar opinion of him to that of the teachers but for the most he’s adored by the librarians.

Checks out multiple books at a time and can usually finish them in time for the return date.

Always checks out The Hobbit and rereads it constantly until Wayne gets him his own copy for his birthday. 

He taught himself to play guitar, with a combination of books (mostly just to understand the strings and maintenance) and figuring out how to play his favorite songs. 

He’s worn down plenty of tapes from playing them frequently. 

Eddie’s van was a way for them to bond when Wayne got custody. The plan for it was always that Wayne would teach Eddie how to fix it and once it was all fixed, the keys and the van were all Eddie’s the day he got his license. 

[oracleophelia]

Just saw your post for kinky prompts 👀 what do we think about hate-fucking Eddie 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Payback

Kinky Prompts

My friend, we think veeeeerrrry favorably about being hate-fucked by Eddie! Thank you for sending this in 💖 Requests are open; comments, likes and reblogs make me soooooooooooooooo happy!

Eddie Munson x Virgin! Femme! Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, PIV sex, protected sex, spanking, virginity kink (kind of), corruption kink (kind of), fingering (f), orgasm delay (f), clothed sex, crying during sex, a little tender for hate-fucking whoops but i contain multitudes, mentions of canon-typical violence, language, season 4 volume 1 spoilers!

"You know you don't have to babysit me, right?"

Eddie pops around the corner from one of the bedrooms, awake from his third nap of the day and scratching at his skin under the collar of his hellfire shirt. The movement puts the top of a tattoo on display, but you can't identify it from this angle, not without catching the black collar in your finger and pulling it down a few more inches.

You tear your eyes from him, glancing at the windows out of habit, letting out a sharp breath through your nose. The curtains are still closed—just like the last time you checked—but his shadow could still be visible to someone passing by.

"It was Nancy's idea. Will you sit the fuck down?"

Eddie rolls his big dumb eyes, plopping down on the floor beside you. He keeps his long legs bent, pale knees poking from the rips in his jeans.

"Well at least you're not cranky about being stuck with me, princess. Because that would make my exile totally unbearable."

You meet his eyes, catch his mocking smile, and shift an inch to the side.

"First off, don't call me princess. Second, you smell like shit. When's the last time you showered?"

He huffs, pretending to think, chin cupped in his hand. "Probably around the last time you slept. If those bags under your eyes get any bigger they're gonna need their own zip code."

You just flash him your middle finger, resting your head against the cupboard and trying to ignore the throbbing pain in your eyes. It's not like you've been trying to stay awake, but stress could do that to you. Every time you closed your eyes, your brain went into overdrive—imagining the yawning horror you'd feel finding your friends' bodies with their arms bent at odd angles and their eyes gouged out.

Eddie nudges you with his knee just as a shiver travels through you, denim he wears brushing against your bare thigh, repeating the movement over and over again until you look at him. He ignores the glare you give him.

"Seriously though, how long have you been awake? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I can manage not to burn the house down for a couple of hours without your constant supervision."

"Right," you scoff, "and when Jason and his friends show up to beat your ass, you can annoy them to death."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

The sun's just starting to set beyond the windows—his cue to stand without you yelling at him again—and he does, navigating the darkening kitchen with ease and grabbing a cereal box from the counter. "Out of curiosity, how are you planning on protecting me? Besides batting your eyelashes and bending over in that little skirt?"

"Something along those lines, yeah."

Eddie still doesn't know about the baseball bat you borrowed from Steve, hidden under the couch. As far as you're concerned, he doesn't need to.

"Good to know they'll all be rock hard when they kill me. Wouldn't have it any other way."

You make a face—maybe just to hide the way your eyes go wide at the idea of anybody being rock hard. "You're disgusting."

"So I've been told," he says, spraying a mouthful of honey comb, "by you, actually."

You just stare at him blankly, watching him chew as you replay the last few days. A lot had happened since you'd saw him threaten Steve with that busted bottle, and you'd called plenty of names during that time, but disgusting wasn't one of them. "No I haven't!"

He's not looking at you, admiring the silver glint of his rings, fingers splayed.

"You're friends did though," he says, quiet enough that you have to stand just to hear him, "and I don't remember you going out of your way to shut them up."

Oh. He's not talking about your friends—Steve and Dustin and the others. He's talking about your friends, the ones from before—the little clique of girls you ate lunch with every day for four years without really knowing each other at all.

"Whatever," you shrug, trying to brush off the accusation, sorting through the food Dustin had picked out to keep your hands busy, "that was high school."

He's unimpressed with your defense. "Okay, well you were a bitch in high school."

It hasn't even been a year since your graduation, but the person you were then isn't someone you'd recognize anymore. Hearing him say that about you makes your stomach sink—remembering all the times you had been a bitch to Eddie and people like him. You'd never be able to take those moments back, no matter how often you and your new friends saved the world.

You do your best to hide the hurt, reaching for a handful of M&Ms. If defense wouldn't work, you'd have to go offensive.

"If we're gonna bring up high school, you fucking started it."

Eddie leans in close under the guise of snatching some of the chocolate from your hand, warm fingers dancing over the skin of your palm.

"How'd I do that?" he asks with mock sincerity. Your heart races watching the movement of his dark pink lips.

"You know . . . you were always kicking my chair in Mrs. Click's class, and sticking chewed gum in my notebook when I turned to talk with Jared or Ashley, and- and whatever."

You can't look at him and talk at the same time. Not when he's got a few strands of hair caught up in his ridiculously long eyelashes, luring you into the warm center of his gaze, trying to trap you there.

He brushes some of the hair out of his eyes, sliding a little closer, chest pressed up against your shoulder. His skin is warm enough you can feel it through his shirt. His voice gets throatier when he whispers.

"How else was I guy like me supposed to get your attention?"

The M&Ms are turning to mush in your palm, crunching a little when your fist tightens involuntarily. You drop the chocolatey glob on the table, sliding away from him and facing the sink, hoping he couldn't feel the heat in your cheeks.

"You've made funnier jokes, Munson."

He just keeps talking, even with your back turned to him, spewing out shit that makes your whole body tense.

"Not a joke, babe. I've always had a thing for pretty girls with sticks up their asses. Figured somebody needed to fuck that attitude out of you."

You've got a death grip on the towel beside the sink, dripping little puddles all over the counter.

"I don't have anything up my ass," you mutter under your breath, as if a weak attempt like that would stop him when he's just getting started.

"—and I figured I could do the job, since those dickheads always drooling around you looked too stupid to fuck their way out of a paper bag—"

You just scrunch your nose, talking to yourself, "like I would know anything about that."

You're sure he won't notice your mumbled response, not when he's having such a good time talking to himself. And you're busy—in your own way—thinking about how many of those same dickheads had left you drunk in party bathrooms or alone in the woods on moonless nights when you'd shoved their hands away from your hemline one too many times.

"What?"

Eddie heard you, somehow—the one time you didn't want him to. Shaking the thoughts from your head, you do your best to change the subject. "Nothing. We really should talk about something else—"

"Wait, are you—?"—Eddie's sidled right beside you at the counter, leaning forward on both arms, smiling so fucking wide your hand itches to slap the smug look from his face— "Holy shit, are you a virgin?"

Fuck.

"I said I didn't want to talk about it!"

You throw the towel at him, but it just smacks against his chest with a disappointing thud, doing nothing to tone down your anger or the stinging embarrassment. "God, don't you ever shut up?"

He's totally immune to your little tantrum, taking one of your hands in his own, bringing it close to him, playing with your fingers.

He's got big hands. They practically swallow your own with no effort, the boar's head ring smiling up at you. You don't want to think about what they'd feel like touching you elsewhere, his huge, hot palms cupping your ass, spreading you apart with his ring-heavy fingers.

"Aw, baby," he coos, "if you wanted me to be your first, you could've just asked."

"Don't be delusional, Munson," you say, yanking your hand from his grip. It tingles a little where he's touched you, nerves deadened when they're not feeling him.

It's not like you cared that much about who was your first; it was always more about how. All those other losers had been fine with a quick fuck in the back of a car and you weren't about that. It's not like you expected candles and rose petals and shit—just a guy who'd at least try to get you off.

With the way he's looking at you now, Eddie's seeming more and more like the perfect candidate.

"Yeah, delusional, okay," Eddie's tone is sarcastic as he rolls his eyes, coming in close, seeing right through you like a piece of glass. His hair is brushing against your cheeks, hot breath on your neck, and your whole body responds, thighs pressing together, a thick swallow in your throat. He smells like cigarettes, with the faintest faded whiff cologne underneath the sharp sting of sweat. The more you have of it, the more you want.

There's something sinful reflected in his eyes when you look at him; it takes a second for you to recognize it's your own expression.

"Five bucks says you're wet for me right now."

He's surprised the sarcasm right out of you, reading you like that—leaving your voice weak and breathless, without your usual bite. "In your dreams, maybe."

"Oh yeah, all the time,—" the tips of his fingers brush against the outside of your thigh, "—but that's not what we're talking about here."

His palm is like a brand, pressed just above your knee, thick thumb stroking across your bare skin.

"Stop that," you whisper. Your throat burns with the smell of him.

He just cocks a brow. "You want me to?"

No. You won't say it—swallowing the word down and staring at him in silence—but you can't say yes, even if you don't mean it. He's the kind of guy who would actually stop if you did.

And you can't have him stop.

His hand curls into a fist against your skin until you lose contact with the cool metal of his rings. Eddie's expression is almost stern.

"I'm gonna need to hear you say it, princess."

The nickname doesn't bother you this time, stoking the heat at your core enough to loosen your tongue, just in case he might say it again. "No. I don't want you to stop."

The smile he gives you is worth your pride a hundred times over.

"Good girl."

Eddie's hand moves painfully slow, tips of his fingers brushing over goosebumps like he's trying to read braille, doe eyes staring down at you, gaze flickering towards your lips. It could be ironic that the one time you were desperate for a guy to rush through this part, the guy in question is determined to take his time.

It could be ironic, if it wasn't so fucking infuriating.

"Eddie," you say—way too desperate—but he just laughs at the shift of your hips as you take the last inch between his fingers and the soaked fabric of your panties by force.

Fuck, he feels good between your thighs—even just this part of him. He strokes his fingers back and forth, pinching a little at your covered pussy, laughing at the gasping sound you make when one of his rings catches against your clit.

You don't even care that it was this easy for him. You couldn't give less of a fuck.

He's got dimples in his cheeks from the grin he wears. "I'm flattered, sweetheart. This all for me?"

He's still stroking you, a smooth back and forth with his long, beautiful fingers. It's hard to form words anymore.

"Sh- shut up."

"About this?" His hips are harsh against yours, "uh-uh, never. I'm never gonna shut up about this wet. fucking. pussy."

He's breathing hard, gripping roughly at your cunt, punctuating each word with a brush against your clit, the tip of one finger past your lips and stroking along your entrance. Even through the cotton it makes you squirm, the feel of the soft, wet fabric almost too much for your sensitive cunt.

Your clumsy hands meet at his belt buckle, just resting there, arms jellied by the way he's touching you.

"Eddie."

He's got his ear pressed up against your cheek, a few of his flyaways sticking to the sweat on your temples. It's good he's so close or he might not be able to hear you at all.

"Yeah?" His chest heaves, arm muscles tight where they press against your stomach. When you lean back enough to meet his eyes, he's got his tongue caught between his teeth.

"I don't—fuck—I don't have five dollars."

"What?"

He actually stops his assault on your pussy for just a moment, and you breathe a soft laugh. It's nice to know you're not the only one who can be caught of guard.

"The bet. I owe you five—"

The thrust of his hips cuts off the end of your sentence, alarm bells ringing in your head. He hadn't been carrying anything in his pockets, as far as you knew—no switchblade or flashlight or a fucking cucumber by the feel of it. Which could only mean one thing.

Eddie Munson is rock fucking hard. For you.

His hand still cups your pussy as the other takes you by the neck, palm easily spanning your entire jaw and there's no chance you'd even think about fighting him when he guides you closer to his lips.

"I think we can work something out."

Eddie's kisses are like whiskey—hot and wet and strong, putting a burn in your throat from the power behind it—body aching at the way he bends you, his jaw pressed tight against yours, guiding your body with every shift of his head. He's got his tongue past your open lips, tasting like cigarettes and sugary breakfast cereal and stale sleep and it's still got you weak at the knees.

Kissing Eddie is everything.

He's making little moaning noises against your lips, the pressure behind his hips denting your back against the counter, digging into you enough there might be print of his dick on your thigh when he pulls away. His hand has gone still as he's caught up in this kiss, and grinding down against his fingers isn't enough anymore for the gnawing heat in your cunt.

You pull back, turning your head a little to the side when he chases after your lips.

"Fuck me, Eddie."

Even in the fading light, you can see how dark Eddie's eyes have become—already deep irises swallowed by black pupils.

"Really?"

His adam's apple bobs with a harsh swallow, like he didn't even think it would get to this point. You don't have time to worry about the statistical likelihood of a situation where you'd be begging Eddie Munson to fuck you—not with the way your pussy is throbbing.

"God, Eddie. Yes."

The muscles in his throat tense, thin blue veins distended, and if he's nervous taking control, he doesn't show it. You, on the other hand, are shaking like a fucking leaf.

"Bend over," he tells you, and you comply without comment—just grateful you don't have to make any of these decisions yourself—stretching out long, arms at an angle against the wall and chest flat against the table top.

There's the heat of his body against your thighs as Eddie steps closer, hips looming behind you, just out of reach. The fabric of your skirt is shifted out of the way, bunched up around your waist, and then Eddie's broad palm cups your ass, thumb achingly close to your core again, whispered touch moving closer, closer, the flat of his thumb pressed against your dripping hole. His other hand reaches for the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down roughly over your hips with the scrape of his rings until they fall to your ankles, leaving you totally bare.

And then you feel the harsh smack of his hand against the swell of your cheek, hips forced into the counter and a low moan on your lips.

You're still reeling when you turn back to look at him. "Jesus Christ, Eddie!"

"Sorry, baby, but I had to," he laughs, untouched by your anger as always, looking a little endeared by the glare you send over your shoulder.

"You could warn me first," you grumble. Then maybe you could have done something about the mortifying sound you'd just made.

His fingers rub gently at the mark he must have left against your ass cheek, soothing the ache as he presses his chest against your back. "Where's the fun in that?"

He grins—face framed by wild hair, big eyes shining—and it mollifies you, but only slightly.

"Are you gonna fuck me or not?"

"Patience, baby," —he leans off you, reaching into his back pocket for a little silver-foiled packet—"safety first."

A fucking condom. You roll your eyes. "How long have you had that on you?"

"Since you told me you were staying. Rick keeps a bunch lying around—figured it couldn't hurt to be prepared."

So he's been thinking about fucking you for the past two days. You're not sure if that makes you more desperate or more annoyed.

You lay your head back down, rolling your eyes even though he can't see them at this angle. "You're an ass, Eddie Munson."

Not that you care, not with the sound of his zipper and the clink of his belt—which definitely make you hornier—the crinkle of the condom wrapper and the way you hear him spit a piece of the shiny foil onto the floor after opening it with his teeth.

With your cheek pressed to the table, you can't see what he's doing, shifting your hips side to side as you as you wait to feel him touch you again. It starts with a hand at your hip, pulling you against him, the white-hot pit in your stomach fueled by the feeling of his cock pressed between your ass cheeks, teasing you with a few soft strokes.

"You sure you want this?"

His other hand wraps around your waist, splitting your folds with his fingers, just barely petting across your clit. You can feel your pussy dripping for him.

"God, yes. Pl—"

He cuts you off, the end of the word lost in an ungodly moan as he presses the thick head of his cock past your messy entrance, and the stretch is already unreal—a searing sting that has your eyes rolling back in your head and your nails biting into your palms.

"Christ, baby, you're fucking tight," he says, with a hint of awe in his voice, sliding forward another inch, drunk on your little whimpered sounds.

You can't keep quiet as Eddie thrusts forward again, and again, and again, going until you're sure it would be impossible for him to have any dick left, cunt pulsing around him like its in cardiac arrest.

And then he gives you another inch.

"Fuck," —it's the only word you know anymore, the only thing you can think past the tremors running up and down your entire body, every brain cell you've got focused on the stunning pain stretching out your cunt, so full it's like you can feel the tip of him nudging at your lungs. "Fuck."

Eddie's not saying a word—a first for him—but you can tell he's thinking the same thing you are, can feel the letters F-U-C-K printed against your hip bones on the tips of his fingers. His breathing is loud and messy, shifting his hips just slightly until there's the soft slap of his balls against the backs of your thighs.

"Gotta, Jesus,"—two of Eddie's fingers press down against your clit, and you whine, wiggling a little at the feeling until his other hand tightens against your hips, "gotta loosen you up a little, baby. 'M about to fuckin' bust."

He sandwiches you against the counter as he shifts forward to improve the angle of his fingers, circling your clit steadily. Your legs part, a little wider, hoping to make room for more of the feeling he's giving you.

"That's a good girl," Eddie groans.

You hadn't even noticed the way you'd been rocking your hips back against him, too absorbed by the feeling of his dick nudging at some shining point inside you, setting off fireworks behind your eyes with each brush.

He thrusts into you in earnest, and it's like you can hear the pop of your mind's pyrotechnics, the bass thudding in your chest, coming out of your mouth as long, throaty moans.

And Eddie must like those noises you're making, because it's got him pounding at you faster—slamming his whole dick into you hard enough to make the cupboards shake.

"Gonna ruin this fucking virgin pussy," he says, but you're not sure if you're meant to hear, or if it's a promise he's making to himself, "gonna ruin you for the next asshole who comes along."

"Fuck Eddie, I want you to . . . don't- don't want anybody else."

Jesus, where did that come from? Half an hour ago you were teetering on the edge of throttling him and now you're promising him a life-time unlimited supply of pussy.

If he replies, you can't hear him over your high-pitched whine as he pinches at your clit, strumming at you with his guitar-calloused finger tips.

"Gonna cum," you warn him, lashes fluttering at the way the heat is building in your gut and your pussy and your chest, building higher and higher, ready to take you.

Until he pulls back, totally still with his hands at your hips.

"Edddiiiieeeeeeeeeee."

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. The feeling's gone, and no amount of whining is going to get it back, the opening of your cunt trembling and dripping and empty.

He shushes you, one hand at your neck, ring biting at your throat and the chain at his wrist brushing against your chin as he pulls you close. Fat tears blur your vision until he's one big, brown smudge of hair and pink skin.

"Can't make it too easy for you, honey," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your puffy lips. You blink the tears from your eyes.

"That was mean."

His chest shakes with laughter, and some of your spend smears across your cheek as he brushes a strand of hair back behind ear. "Let's consider it payback, princess. You wanna cum this time?"

I wanted to cum the last time, you think, but don't say it, the antagonism fucked right out of you. "Yes, please."

He kisses you, and the angle is awkward with you propped up on your elbows, his tongue halfway down your throat as his other hand guides the head of his cock back to your throbbing entrance. He slides inside with ease.

It feels better with him this close, his thrusts shorter and slower but hitting you just right, hips slapping against yours, belt and chains jangling in time with the wet squelch of your cunt. It feels better when you can taste him, running the tip of your tongue along the edge of his teeth.

"You close again, baby?" he asks between sharp breaths. You nod, feeling hot, feeling used, thighs coated with your sticky wet cum, and body trembling in his grasp.

"Eddie," his name is like a cry on your lips, everything else stolen. You can't get the other words out, can't tell him that you feel it looming and it's heavier than the last time and it's strong enough to scare you, can't tell him that you don't know what's going to happen or who you'll be on the other side. "Eddie."

He's unphased, laughing, face mashed up against your cheek. "Tell me about it."

It takes you, fucking swallows you up and spits you out. Your whole body is pulsing, a ten on the Richter scale emanating from your pussy. Total devastation.

He thrusts into a few more times, fucking you through it, short bursts that make you whimper until the quaking stops and he groans, sliding from your cunt.

"God fucking damn," Eddie says, rattling around the kitchen, and you don't have a single brain cell left to wonder what he's doing, "how was that for your first time?"

It's a good question. You shift experimentally, aching in places you didn't know existed and numb everywhere else.

He's back at your side with a wet dish towel in hand. Eddie pets it gently between your legs, cleaning up everything sticky from your skin and your hair. You just hope Rick won't mind finding a towel covered in pussy juice in his house whenever he gets out of prison.

There's a soft look in Eddie's eyes as he cleans you up, tongue caught between his teeth, and it has you gnawing on your lips—a melty feeling in your chest no orgasm could cause.

"So . . . what happens now?"

You're not sure what you're hoping for—if you want him to kiss you, or tell you he'll fuck you whenever, no strings attached, or promise he'd never bring up the way you screamed for him ever again.

Actually, you know you don't want the last one. Beyond that, you're willing to take what you can get.

"Now," Eddie says, cupping your face in his hands, "you finally get some fucking sleep."

Maybe he's being stupid on purpose, saving your question for another time when you've got a little more mental prowess available and he's not being hunted for sport. Eddie leads you to Rick's bedroom, one hand at your waist, and your exhaustion hits you in a wave. You hadn't even realized how hard you'd been working to keep your eyes open.

The rest of you might be on the edge of sleep, but your suspicion is wide awake. "Did you only fuck me to tire me out?"

Eddie chuckles, crawling onto the big mattress and guiding you up with him, his body softer beneath yours in the darkness.

"Not only," he whispers, arms tight around your waist, "but I think it worked out alright."

You're breathing steadier already, having him here. There's no need to listen for him alive outside the door when you've got his heart beat beneath you. You'd never realized how much you worried about him whenever he was out of your sight.

"Eddie?"

He's lit a cigarette—you can see the red orange tip of it glow brighter in the darkness when he takes a drag.

"What, baby?"

"I'm sorry I was a bitch to you in high school."

His chest rises and falls with steady breaths. "Don't worry about it."

And then it's quiet again, your eyelids falling closed and staying that way. Eddie keeps a hand on you—sometimes stroking gently over your arm, or nestled tight at your waist. You would have thought that kind of movement would keep you awake, but you can feel your body grow heavier against him, muscles relaxing under his touch.

"Hey, Eddie?" You don't even bother to open your eyes this time.

"What is it now?"

"Can we do that again," you ask, sentence broken up by a soft yawn, "you know, when I wake up?"

"Sure thing, baby," Eddie promises, "whenever you want."

[oracleophelia]

Once again, please check my pinned before requesting. All the requests I’ve gotten are for smut and I don’t write it personally. If you see smut on my page it’s from my mutuals or writers I like so please give them a follow if you’re looking for smut. Thank yooooou .

[oracleophelia]

Thanks everyone for 100 notes <3

10 Eddie Munson Headcanons

School has always been his last priority but that isn’t to say he’s not smart.

He’s smart and loves to learn but the teachers of Hawkins have singled him out as a failure primarily because of his parents’ reputations in town.

No matter how hard he tries, the teachers put their opinions of his parents before his effort and that really affects their perception of him. 

At some point in high school, Wayne got injured in the plant and that’s when Eddie began to sell drugs. He got into contact with one of his dad’s friends who was a supplier so that he could take up the role of supporting them while Wayne was recovering.

Definitely has a well loved library card, one of the librarians has a similar opinion of him to that of the teachers but for the most he’s adored by the librarians.

Checks out multiple books at a time and can usually finish them in time for the return date.

Always checks out The Hobbit and rereads it constantly until Wayne gets him his own copy for his birthday. 

He taught himself to play guitar, with a combination of books (mostly just to understand the strings and maintenance) and figuring out how to play his favorite songs. 

He’s worn down plenty of tapes from playing them frequently. 

Eddie’s van was a way for them to bond when Wayne got custody. The plan for it was always that Wayne would teach Eddie how to fix it and once it was all fixed, the keys and the van were all Eddie’s the day he got his license. 

[oracleophelia]

10 Eddie Munson Headcanons

School has always been his last priority but that isn’t to say he’s not smart.

He’s smart and loves to learn but the teachers of Hawkins have singled him out as a failure primarily because of his parents’ reputations in town.

No matter how hard he tries, the teachers put their opinions of his parents before his effort and that really affects their perception of him. 

At some point in high school, Wayne got injured in the plant and that’s when Eddie began to sell drugs. He got into contact with one of his dad’s friends who was a supplier so that he could take up the role of supporting them while Wayne was recovering.

Definitely has a well loved library card, one of the librarians has a similar opinion of him to that of the teachers but for the most he’s adored by the librarians.

Checks out multiple books at a time and can usually finish them in time for the return date.

Always checks out The Hobbit and rereads it constantly until Wayne gets him his own copy for his birthday. 

He taught himself to play guitar, with a combination of books (mostly just to understand the strings and maintenance) and figuring out how to play his favorite songs. 

He’s worn down plenty of tapes from playing them frequently. 

Eddie’s van was a way for them to bond when Wayne got custody. The plan for it was always that Wayne would teach Eddie how to fix it and once it was all fixed, the keys and the van were all Eddie’s the day he got his license. 

[oracleophelia]

𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐇 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 (blurbs)

smut indicated by**

(go to drabbles masterlist for request guidelines!)

main masterlist; drabbles masterlist

honey baby

joseph being a simp for reader

joseph & semi hippie reader ft. crystals, tarot cards and zodiac signs

joseph & reader in a fleetwood mac concert

costar!reader & joseph in brazil

joseph supporting singer!reader in her concert

joseph taking care of slightly drunk reader in brazil ft. jamie

joseph taking care of sick reader

joseph running his hands through your hair

surprising joseph at comic-con

joseph and his obsession with venga boys

honeymoon vol 1

honeymoon vol 2

comforting joseph at comic-con

joseph and reader flirting (?)

joseph messing up your line

joseph pushing you off a boat

babysitting with joseph

joseph being obsessed with your perfume

[oracleophelia]

Here’s another invite link to the 18+ Eddie server! ✨💛

[oracleophelia]

10 Eddie Munson Headcanons

School has always been his last priority but that isn’t to say he’s not smart.

He’s smart and loves to learn but the teachers of Hawkins have singled him out as a failure primarily because of his parents’ reputations in town.

No matter how hard he tries, the teachers put their opinions of his parents before his effort and that really affects their perception of him. 

At some point in high school, Wayne got injured in the plant and that’s when Eddie began to sell drugs. He got into contact with one of his dad’s friends who was a supplier so that he could take up the role of supporting them while Wayne was recovering.

Definitely has a well loved library card, one of the librarians has a similar opinion of him to that of the teachers but for the most he’s adored by the librarians.

Checks out multiple books at a time and can usually finish them in time for the return date.

Always checks out The Hobbit and rereads it constantly until Wayne gets him his own copy for his birthday. 

He taught himself to play guitar, with a combination of books (mostly just to understand the strings and maintenance) and figuring out how to play his favorite songs. 

He’s worn down plenty of tapes from playing them frequently. 

Eddie’s van was a way for them to bond when Wayne got custody. The plan for it was always that Wayne would teach Eddie how to fix it and once it was all fixed, the keys and the van were all Eddie’s the day he got his license. 

[oracleophelia]

Please read my pinned before sending requests! I don’t write smut personally so please stop requesting it from me. Thanks! :)

[oracleophelia]

Dating Eddie Munson - HCs Part 1

Eddie is gonna have his hand on your thigh. It doesn’t matter where you are. His hand will be on your thigh.

While he’s driving his van, you have permanent shot gun (sucks to suck Dustin) and whether you two are alone or if you’re carting the Hellfire kids around…his hand is on your thigh.

When you two are alone, of course, his hand is a little higher up. It migrates upwards as Metallica or Dio blare through the stereo, his foot getting a little heavier on the gas as he rockets you both down the highway.

At the movies, when the house lights are out, you best believe his hand is up your skirt. He doesn’t do anything about it. Just has his hand there. Right on the crease where your thigh meets the apex of your leg. He’s torturing you, but he does it with a smile on his face the whole movie, not even glancing away from the screen once.

But most of all, he has his hand on your thigh while you make out in your bed. It’s grounding, it’s soothing, but it also riles you up. Makes you impossibly frustrated. He touches you there all damn day. And now you need more.

You don’t realize that all of this is a product of his design of course. He knows what it does to you, the way it works you up so that you’re craving him, needing him desperately by the time he’s able to take you.

And yet still he doesn’t do anything. Until with a huff you grab that hand of his and pull it up to where you want it - between your thighs instead of on them.

He chuckles against your mouth. Only too happy to oblige.

[oracleophelia]

10 Eddie Munson Headcanons

School has always been his last priority but that isn’t to say he’s not smart.

He’s smart and loves to learn but the teachers of Hawkins have singled him out as a failure primarily because of his parents’ reputations in town.

No matter how hard he tries, the teachers put their opinions of his parents before his effort and that really affects their perception of him. 

At some point in high school, Wayne got injured in the plant and that’s when Eddie began to sell drugs. He got into contact with one of his dad’s friends who was a supplier so that he could take up the role of supporting them while Wayne was recovering.

Definitely has a well loved library card, one of the librarians has a similar opinion of him to that of the teachers but for the most he’s adored by the librarians.

Checks out multiple books at a time and can usually finish them in time for the return date.

Always checks out The Hobbit and rereads it constantly until Wayne gets him his own copy for his birthday. 

He taught himself to play guitar, with a combination of books (mostly just to understand the strings and maintenance) and figuring out how to play his favorite songs. 

He’s worn down plenty of tapes from playing them frequently. 

Eddie’s van was a way for them to bond when Wayne got custody. The plan for it was always that Wayne would teach Eddie how to fix it and once it was all fixed, the keys and the van were all Eddie’s the day he got his license. 

[oracleophelia]

eddie saying i love you during soft, kissy, missionary sex 🥹

Gonna do this as a short HC so I hope that's okay!

Surprising - Soft!Eddie Munson HCs

Eddie is a wild card. Everything he does is perfectly crafted to get a rise out of people. He likes catching them off guard - shocking them into reactions that they might not have otherwise.

He's like that with you sometimes. Or rather, he likes making you a party to his wicked deeds. He'll grab you in the cafeteria and loop you into sweeping statements as an accomplice.

He'll lay some sickening PDA on you during Hellfire meetings, yelling at the boys when they gag and cover their eyes - "yeah that's right. Look away kids. You can't have any of this anyway. She's all mine," he adds on with a wink.

But when you're alone, sometimes the most surprising thing Eddie Munson is capable of is his softness. You'd imagined the metal head 'freak' of Hawkins would be wild in the sheets. And he can be.

But more often than not, Eddie Munson likes taking you out to Lover's Lake, lying out under the stars, and kissing you for hours. With nothing but a blanket, a blunt, and all the time in the world.

And on nights when you end up back at his trailer - when his uncle is gone and you're both buzzed on cheap beer and each other - he'll slowly press you down into his worn, faded sheets. Careful to make sure you're comfortable on the extra pillows he'd snagged from Goodwill when you first started seeing each other and he'd worried you wouldn't want to stay with him if he still only had the one raggedy cushion.

He'll settle between your thighs and pull your legs up around him to hitch over his hips.

He'll kiss you till you're whimpering beneath him, wordlessly begging for the thing you know he'll give you. The thing he'd never deny you.

Eddie will pull your clothes off gently. Reverently, even. Kissing exposed skin as it is revealed to him.

He'll sink into you and let out a sighing exhale. Almost sounding relieved. Like he's been waiting for this all day. Like you're home and he's been desperate to return to you.

Most days he's talkative. He loves to make you laugh, loves saying silly dramatic things that has you giggling and writhing on his cock. Loves describing your body to you and watching you squirm at the attention, preening in spite of yourself.

But today he's quiet, save for his heavy breathing. He's listening to you. Taking in the way you react to him. Feeling you around him and mentally archiving the shifts in your body. The swell of your breath. The scrunch of your face.

Eddie doesn't believe himself to be a particularly smart man. He's failed school too many times to believe otherwise. But he does believe himself to be clever enough to recognize perfection when faced with it.

A perfectly crafted D&D campaign. A Metallica song played at top volume while driving too fast down main street in the middle of the night. Your body beneath his.

And as Eddie thrusts into you slowly, methodically, he hopes that you're happy. That it feels good and that you want him and that you'll continue to want him. Because he'll never stop wanting you.

"I love you, princess."

And you're surprised. But so deeply happy.

~*~ 

Teeny tiny tag list: @millenialcatlady @theoncrayjoy @cowboy-kylo