#honey boy 🍯 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

urhoneycombwitch · 8 months ago

Text

imagine being loved by me

🍯 honey flavour: your love has stood the test of time, thus far, but a party fit for a rockstar brings up some bitter emotions.

🐝 the bees: rockstar!Eddie x jealous!Reader

wc: 8k

cw: drugs and alcohol consumption, mentions of weight gain (eddie’s, in a positive manner), R has panic/anxiety attack, jealousy (talked about and resolved tho), softdom!Reader, softdom!Eddie, oral (E and R receiving), R has breasts + a V and referred to with she/her pronouns, P in V sex, cumming inside w/out protection

foreword: timeline is wobbly and may not align perfectly w canon bc I’m bad at math so shhhh suspend ur disbelief. based on this anon thank you v much anon <3

___

It’s the coldest January Hawkins has seen in ages. Snow banks sit high on the roadsides, air thick with snowflakes, three-AM fog brought in courtesy of the bitter wind chill.

Under the yellow floodlight of a nearby streetlamp, your boyfriend is sucking down the last of a joint while you stamp your feet against the gravel parking lot.

“C’mon, Eddie,” you whine, crossing the arms of your fleeced puffer jacket, bouncing on your heels to keep the blood flowing. “My toes are gonna get frostbite.”

“A touch dramatic,” Eddie replies, unbothered. The cherry of the joint between his lips burns orange, casting a warm glow over Eddie’s cheekbones, the twinkle of snowflakes caught in his bangs. “I told you to go in without me, princess. Warmer in there.”

“Without you? As if.” You pull the pity card, and it works, ‘cuz it always does- that boy has got to learn how to say no to you, one of these days.

Not today, though, because Eddie is tamping out the ember on the sole of his boot and crunching up the snowy path to sling an arm around your neck.

“Grub time,” he says against your hair, pressing his cold lips to the side of your forehead as you both make your way into Benny’s Burgers.

The heated air is a welcome relief, and save for a couple of old-timers at a side table, you and Eddie are the only customers in the place.

Benny greets you both from where he’s flipping patties on the kitchen grill, waving a spatula at the corner booth- “All yours, kiddos. Want the usual?”

You and Eddie call out affirmatives as you sink into opposing seats, unwrapping yourselves from all your winter gear as you go.

“God bless Benny Hammond for expanding his night hours,” you say, piling your green scarf on the tabletop. “This is a good tradition for us, y’know. Post-band practice smoking and coffee- very rock and roll.”

“I concur.” Eddie tosses his knit hat at you playfully. “You, my lady, have the most rock ‘n roll soul I ever did see.”

As Benny approaches with two mugs of steaming coffee, you muse aloud, “Not sure if the amount of sugar you’re about to dump in your coffee is very metal, per se...”

“Y’hear that, Benny?” Eddie grabs a fistful of sugar packets and shakes them indignantly. “My girl’s trying to keep me on the straight and narrow. How’s a rockstar s’posed to live in these conditions?”

“Lord knows,” Benny says, sardonic, setting the mugs down and turning back to the kitchen.

Eddie winces as his hands wrap around the heat of the mug, and you notice right away. “Your fingers splitting again? I have that salve that you used last time, but it’s back at the trailer.”

He puts his hand face-up onto the table, and you slip yours into his, the deep fingertip grooves from guitar strings rough against your soft palm.

“I’ll live. Plus, it’s kind of metal, right?” Eddie runs a calloused thumb across the back of your hand.

You squeeze back, give him a wink. “Very metal.”

Eddie’s been working himself to the bone lately. Trying to stay in school and not drop out is a feat in itself, but compounded with the band practices that have only ramped up in length recently, it’s a lot to balance.

He hasn’t complained at all, of course. It’s not really in his nature.

In the past few weeks, however, he’s been imbued with this near-manic energy, a renewed sense of purpose. In between your own fitful sleeps you often wake in the early hours of the morning to find Eddie hunched over his desk, pen flying across his notebook as he reworks an old song or outlines a new one. Not that you weren’t proud of him before, but seeing him apply this newfound passion to his music has been a huge source of joy for you.

And, if you’re being really honest, also a major turn on. I mean, the boy’s got swagger like no other, and you’re so glad he’s finally utilizing it on stage. Even if that stage is in the middle of a piece of shit dive bar. Still counts, in your book.

Benny drops off baskets of hot fries, a burger for Eddie, and a BLT for you. Methodic and familiar, you offload half your fries to Eddie’s basket as he slides his burger towards you for the first bite.

After a few minutes of peaceful eating, Eddie balls up a napkin in his fist and raps the table with his knuckles. “So, uh. Kind of have some news.”

You slot the ketchup bottle back into its metal holder and look up with raised brows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looks suddenly nervous, knee knocking into the underside of the table as he bounces his leg compulsively. “You remember Paige Warner? Graduated in ‘81, brother is a baseball jock?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath- his unease is kind of setting you on edge.

“What about Paige Warner?” you prompt.

“She moved out to L.A. for a job and she’s working this scouting gig for some bigshot record,” he continues, absently pulling the thin napkin in his hands into pieces, staring vacantly at the mess. “And she wants Corroded Coffin to record and send out a demo to the label.”

As the news sinks in, your jaw drops. “Holy shit. What?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s fidgeting with the paper scraps now, still not making eye contact with you. “She wants us to start recording next week. I haven’t told anyone else, yet, I wanted to make sure you were the first-”

You interrupt him with an excited little squeal (drawing glares from the old guys across the diner) and shove up from your side of the table to throw your arms around Eddie.

“Holy shit,” you repeat, laughing as Eddie pulls you into his lap- “Eddie, that’s amazing!”

“You think so?” he asks, your enthusiasm allowing his own to creep in; He slides his hands to your denim-clad hips, his self-professed favorite stress toy (well, tied for favorite with your thighs).

“How come you were so nervous to tell me?” You ask him, gently, tucking his dark hair behind his ears so you can see his face better. “Were you thinking I’d react differently?”

He looks up at you wide-eyed, shakes his head- “No, no, I wasn’t worried about you reacting a certain way. I just… I’m just worried about what this’ll mean. You know. For us.”

“Us?” You echo, encouraging him to continue.

Eddie squeezes at your hips, presses the crown of his head against your collarbone like he’s mustering up the courage to speak. “Yeah, us. I know L.A. isn’t your dream- shit, I don’t even know if it’s mine- but you didn’t sign up to go on the road like this. You’ve got college to consider, and-”

“So I’ll take a gap year,” you interrupt, putting a hand to his cheek to make him look at you again, and when he starts to protest, you talk over him. “No, Eddie, I’m serious. I don’t know what the hell I wanna do with my life yet anyways. Following my hot rockstar boyfriend to a new town sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

He shakes his head again, and you can feel his dimples spring to life under your hand as he teases, “Gonna be my little groupie?”

“And more,” you confirm, giving him a kiss (chaste, so as not to invoke any more ire from the grumpy other customers) and sliding off his lap to return to your own seat. “I’ll be your assistant extraordinaire, if you want. Or bodyguard. Make sure none of the other groupie chicks get too close.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, fondly. “You’re the only groupie I need, sweetheart.”

Settling back into your respective seats, you both work on the last basket of fries while chatting genially about the future. Eddie mentions getting an apartment in Los Angeles, so there’s less of a commute, which branches the conversation into the logistics of a cross-country move, and then on to more important topics such as the alleged coolness of west-coast parties.

“Who’s your celebrity hall pass?” you ask, out of pure interest, dipping a fry into the well of ketchup. “Like, say you’re rubbing elbows at some famous muckety-muck’s party and someone catches your eye. Who’re you taking back to the motel for a slutty roll in the hay?”

Eddie snickers at your phrasing, then says, “I mean, preferably, my super hot girlfriend-”

You throw a fry at his head. “That’s such a cop-out answer. In this hypothetical, Joan Jett is in red leather petting up on you and you’re saying you wouldn’t take her up on a one-night stand?”

A laugh bursts out of Eddie, a real, proper one where he throws his head back. “Are you actively encouraging me to hook up with some bimbo at a random party? Without you? Unlikely scenario on all fronts, babe.”

This earns him another launched fry, and he squawks, trying to shake it out of its place caught in his hair as you reprimand him- “Joan Jett is not some bimbo, watch your mouth! And what I’m saying is, if you didn’t at least try to score us a threesome with her, I’d be pissed.”

“Okay, baby,” Eddie soothes you a tad derisively, likely a ploy to avoid more flying food- “if I meet Joan Jett I will do my level best to get her in our bed. Scout’s honor.”

He holds up two fingers and wiggles them obscenely, grinning when you laugh again. “All right, Nosey McGee. Who are you taking home from the party?”

You hum, eyes flicking up to the ceiling, contemplating the options. “I guess I could be talked into a night with Kirk Hammett.”

Eddie’s turn to launch a fry. “You slut,” he chuckles, “That was a way quicker answer than mine.”

“Okay, fine. If I meet Kirk Hammett, I promise to at least make a bid for threesome. Deal?” You extend your pinkie across the table.

Eddie loops his little finger into yours. “Deal.”

____

The memory of that cozy diner evening years ago fades as you shake yourself to the present.

You aren’t two highschool kids with lofty dreams, anymore- after Eddie’s recovery from all that Upside Down bullshit in ‘86, Corroded Coffin took off. Even though Paige didn’t end up coming through with any deals, Eddie and his bandmates fought like hell to get signed- and by the end of that year, a small record label in the heart of downtown Chicago had taken the bait.

Corroded Coffin turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to Arken Records; by the spring of ‘87, business was booming thanks to the help of Corroded’s debut album, The Banished Ones- their new single was a chart-topper for over 6 weeks. (Smash Hit magazine’s latest review was titled “Fresh Sound Rises from Dirt Nowhere.” You have the paper clipping saved in your ever-growing folder with “rockstar boyfriend!!!” handwritten in black ink.)

And in a few weeks, the band will set off on their first real tour, starting in Chicago and ending with a bang in an already sold-out show in Hawkins- Dustin, Steve, and the rest of the gang with VIP front-row seats, of course.

As much as you and Eddie have grown and matured in the past few years, the core of you both has remained the same. Eddie is still just as dorky, goofy, and caring as he always has been, while you’ve kept that tenacious spirit and quick wit that he fell in love with back in the early days of dating. Even now, with his popularity rising and his rockstar dreams on their way to coming true, Eddie constantly brings his focus back to you.

Pillow talks in cushy hotel beds, late night ramblings over post-show whiskeys, holding hands in the back of yet another cab- when he could be talking about the thousands of exciting things happening in his own life, Eddie is asking about you.

Did you talk to Robin last night, sweetheart? How’s ‘ol Birdie doin? What do you wanna wear to that dinner thingy tomorrow… could go naked for all I care. In fact you probably should because of feminism and all that. Did you sleep okay last night? Let me look at ya. You thinkin’ any more about those applications you got?

You’d taken a gap year to support Eddie, which you were happy to do, but with ‘87 drawing to a close, he’s been more insistent lately that you take a look at all your college options. Honestly, you’ve been enjoying the adventures that come with touring way too much to consider going back to the rigidity of school.

And plus, having the love of your life nearly bleed out in your arms in a parallel dimension has totally realigned your priorities. If folks thought you and Eddie were attached at the hip before…

He’ll likely argue you into academia, eventually. He always rolls high on persuasion. Damn him.

For now, you’ve got a party to attend.

Arken Records is playing host, on the last night of 1987- in celebration of Corroded Coffin’s success and to kick off the New Year’s festivities, they’ve rented out a house in east Chicago for the event.

Well, house isn’t the right word. More like mansion. Vaulted ceilings tall as a church’s, huge windows overlooking the Chicago river, a grand chandelier with flickering candles in nearly every room.

When you and Eddie had toured the place a few days previous, he’d made a joking complaint low in your ear about not having the time to fuck you on every surface. Your laugh had reverberated off the sweeping mahogany floorboards, mostly at the expense of Eddie’s poor publicist who’d happened to hear his comment. (Melanie had really been putting in overtime lately; you made a mental note to send her a very nice flower arrangement and vouchers for a spa trip.)

The party was in full swing by the time you and Eddie arrived, fashionably late, and he had been folded into the throng of other musicians and partygoers against his will pretty much immediately- which you’d expected. The last hour, he’s been throwing you piteous looks from his spot across the room, where he hasn’t had the chance to move an inch with the amount of people keeping the conversation going. You’ve slipped to his side a few times, refreshing his drink, letting him curl an arm around your waist as you perch on his knee, only half-focused on whatever story some producer is saying as Eddie’s hand trails up your thigh.

You’re back on the nearest wall again, sipping champagne, taking it all in. There are probably over a hundred people crammed into this banquet room, bass thumping through the floorboards, tables shoved to the outer corners making space for a makeshift dance space.

The air is hazy with smoke from various cigarettes and joints; as the night has progressed, the smell of freshly-applied cologne has been replaced with heady sweat as the dance floor calls more people to writhe and grind in groups and partners. Eddie is still stuck in the lone pod of living room chairs, surrounded by a rapt audience of people crammed in to hear him better over the blaring music.

He looks damn good tonight, in a cut-off black tee and his favorite ripped jeans, leather jacket hung on the chair behind him. Silver catches the light from every angle- on the chains at his hips, around his neck, glinting off his rings as he gestures animatedly mid-story. He’d asked you to do his eyeliner at the hotel earlier, and although it’s smudged and blurred at the edges now he’s still pulling it off. Tiny silver stars, hand-drawn with your eyeshadow brush, twinkle across his cheeks like freckles.

Eddie wanted to match with you, whined until you added a belt made of gold-plated stars to your outfit. You went simple, the gold to his silver- belt cinching your short black satin slip dress, delicate brass rings and bracelets around your fingers and bare forearms. The one piece of silver you are wearing is a chain around your neck, Eddie’s guitar pick nestled snug between your breasts.

You still resolutely refuse to wear heels, even after Eddie’s stylist cajoled you into practicing on stilettos for a disastrous media training session last month- tonight you’re in a chic pair of Mary Janes with the slightest suggestion of a heel. Compromise.

There’s a big laugh from the crowd in the corner again as Eddie knocks a hand into Gareth’s chest for emphasis, nearly knocking the younger boy off his seat. You stare unabashedly at Eddie’s forearms, biceps on full display; he’s filled out a bit since leaving home, his usually lean frame boasting a bit more weight and bulk now that he’s got consistent access to well-rounded meals.

He’s looking healthy, down right glowy. You’re thinking about that smattered trail of dark hair that slides down the crest of his stomach, now with extra padding enough to sink your teeth into. As if he knows, Eddie catches your eye from across the room and winks, cheekily.

You shiver and unconsciously press your thighs together, hiding your grin with another swallow of champagne.

The alcohol turns a bit sour going down, though, as a crimped-haired blonde girl worms her way to Eddie’s side, laughing a little too loudly at the joke he just told. When she places a manicured hand on one of his shoulders, the thin stem of your glass nearly snaps in your grip.

The thing about rockstars is they have crazy sex appeal. The thing about your rockstar is he’s only interested in you, something that has been proved many times over.

So why is tonight hitting you so hard? Why do you feel nauseous the longer Eddie lets some random woman’s hand stay on his bare skin when you know he’s going home with you, and only you?

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the overcrowded room, or the memories of Benny’s diner still lingering like a bruise in your mind. Hard to pinpoint exactly. All you know is that jealousy is gnawing like a thing raw and seeking in the pit of your stomach, and if you don’t get out of this stuffy room soon you’re gonna do something tabloid-worthy, like cry in the middle of a New Year’s Eve party.

By the grace of some god you make it across the dance floor and into a side bathroom unscathed, the pulsing sound of the party blissfully dimming as you shut the door behind you. Your mind whirls as you grip the gilded sink for stability, blinking hard at the tears beginning to form.

You love having a boyfriend who’s larger than life. You love that he’s taking up space and getting to use that charm that was nurtured on the DM throne back in Hawkins. You’re so proud of him, you really are.

You’re just starting to hate the way other people’s surface-level love of him makes you feel.

Because that’s what it is, right? Just surface-level, you reason with yourself- the level of intimacy that you and Eddie have is unmatched, something that the newly-formed masses of admirers won’t ever get to experience.

Christ, can jealousy give you hives? You grab a handful of paper towels and soak them in cold tap water, then press the damp bundle to your chest, breath stuttering.

You’ve never been the jealous type, or the overbearing type- it’s a new feeling, and maybe that’s why it feels so scary. The more you try to tamp it down, the more it rears its ugly head, making you, in turn, feel embarrassed for having such a strong reaction in the first place.

It’s a vicious cycle that’s only seeming to gain speed as you realize you haven’t yet managed a full breath since coming to your hiding spot. Your lungs are pinched and burning as you drop the soggy paper into the sink, leaning into the lip of the porcelain to steady yourself.

There’s a knock on the door, and you choke out “Just a minute”, not sure if the person on the other side can even hear you over the music when Eddie’s voice leaks through.

“Baby? That you in there?”

Against your better judgment, you open the door, and he crams in the small space, locking it again behind himself.

“There you are, I saw you leave and thought you were getting a drink or something but then you didn’t come back and- are you okay?”

He interrupts his own stream of consciousness when he notices the state you’re in. You give him a trembly smile, waving a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, all good. I’ll come back with you, just needed to pee.”

Eddie is not so easily thrown off the scent. He murmurs your name, sliding his hand into yours, looking at you with a wounded puppy gaze- fuck, you can’t have a breakdown. Not here, not on New Year’s in some knockoff-Playboy’s bathroom.

And certainly not in front of Eddie, who’s asking you to tell him what’s wrong, what happened, with an increasingly pleading tone that’s really, really not helping your whole Don’t Cry agenda.

Hoping your voice doesn’t break, you clear your throat and pull your hand from his grasp. “Nothing happened, okay? I just had too much to drink, feeling overly sentimental or something. I’m okay.”

You think your white lie was convincing enough when Eddie reaches back for the door handle, that maybe he’ll rejoin the party and leave you to have a good cry, but after poking his head out the doorway briefly he grabs onto your wrist, tugging you to his side and hissing “Quick!”

And then you’re both making a break for it down the mostly-empty hallway, Eddie pulling you smoothly past a wall of expensive-looking oil paintings before going through a set of double doors that lead to the outside.

It’s December in Chicago, which means a light layer of snow covers the terraced garden that Eddie is leading you through, stopping at a stone bench flanked by two scraggly bushes.

“Made it,” he huffs with exertion, dropping your hand to shrug his leather jacket off in favor of draping it around your own shoulders.

“You’re gonna be cold,” you sniffle, partly from the tears, partly from the crisp night air.

“Yeah,” he agrees easily, wrapping you in a hug. You press your forehead to his chest. “Got my girl to keep me warm, though.”

You stay like this for a few moments, his arms solid around you, breaths coming easier as the familiar smell of his tangy skin and that spicy bar soap he uses fills your senses.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, gently, holding you at arm’s length to study your face.

When you shrug, unsure of where to start, he lets go of you and walks backwards, taking an unflinching seat on the snow-covered bench.

You gasp despite yourself, reaching to pull him up even as he twists out of your grasp- “Eddie, jesus, you’re literally gonna freeze your ass off. Get up!”

But he’s solid in his seat, widening his stance, boots planted on the ground- “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, so you better start talking before my jeans freeze to the concrete.”

“It’s nothing,” you insist, but he’s giving you that look again, the one that cracks through the tough exterior every time, and you wrap your arms around yourself under the warmth of his jacket as you admit, “Okay, fine. It’s something. I’m just… having an overreaction.”

“To the shellfish?” he deadpans.

“No, asshole, to the blonde girl who was rubbing up on you earlier,” you snap.

Eddie blinks, genuine confusion in his voice- “There was a blonde girl… rubbing up on me?”

“She was petting your shoulder,” you continue, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the ground. “She was touching you, and I got- jealous, I guess.”

“Baby, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t remember her, at all,” Eddie emphasizes, spreading a palm flat against his chest in a gesture of sincerity, hair shifting across his shoulders as he cocks his head to the side.

His face is too familiar, too earnest for you to be able to say what you’re feeling without bursting into tears, so you turn on your heel, pacing a short loop in front of the bench, your breath hanging in misty clouds as you speak.

“It’s not even about her, necessarily. It’s about me and my stupid emotions. I’m not usually like this- jealous, you know? Like, I’m so proud of you, and everything you’ve accomplished, and I don’t mind sharing you, really I don’t, it’s just…”

You pause in your pacing, let your head drop back to look at the inky black sky pinpricked with stars, and your next words fall out like a confession.

“I just feel like I’m in mourning.”

You can feel his eyes on you still, as you loose the feeling that’s been caught tight in your chest. “It sounds so dramatic, when I say it like that. But I think that’s what it is. I miss when it was just the two of us, in this little bubble where no one knew our names and we just had each other.”

As the words leave your mouth, you scramble to explain, to soften the blow, hands tightening around your upper arms as you turn back to face the boy on the bench. “And I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, or, like, a total jealous bitch, because I really love you and I hope you know I’m not- are you laughing?”

Eddie tries his best to stifle the laughter into his fist when he sees how indignant you look. He rises from the bench, still a bit mirthful, pulling you back into his space. “Sorry, honey, I’m not making fun of you, I promise.”

You’re glaring at him now, and he ducks to kiss at the lines between your brow before pulling back and saying, “I think what you’re feeling is normal, and I don’t think you’re overreacting at all. Remember that asshole at the Smith Center party who kept trying to get your number right in front of me?”

“Vaguely.”

“I wanted to punch his lights out. Make a real scene, kiss you sloppy in front of some cameras.” Eddie cups your face in his hands, soothing his thumb against the wetness of your lashline. “What I’m saying is, I get jealous, too. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“But…” there’s a well of emotions that you’re drawing from, and it’s not empty yet, one nagging thought still surfacing. “But these girls that are coming on to you, they’re like… really hot. I don’t look anything like them.”

Eddie frowns. “Are you seriously trying to make a case for yourself on the grounds of not being really hot? That’s not gonna hold up in court, gorgeous. I mean… have you even looked in a mirror recently?”

He lightly taps his knuckle against your head, trying to get you to crack a smile, but you’re not ready to give in yet.

“You don’t think you’ll get bored of me?” you whisper, dropping your eyes from his consuming gaze to the wyvern inked on the inside of his arm.

“Sweetheart…” Eddie sounds genuinely pained. The ink in his skin stretches as he slips a hand to the back of your neck, cold rings against your skin making you shiver. “I couldn’t ever get bored of you. Not in a million years. We've been through too much together for you to think like that, hm?”

He strokes his thumb down the column of your neck, those doey brown eyes on you again. “Now I’m not saying you shouldn’t ever be jealous, ‘cuz god knows it makes me hot under the collar when you are. But I’m sayin’ I never wanna make you feel like you need to earn me, okay?”

His thumb tracks back up to the hollow of your jaw, taps twice questioningly, and you nod, letting out a shaky, “Okay.”

When he kisses you, it feels like every other time- comfortable, grounding, familiar. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips, and you let him lick into your mouth, gripping at his arms, flushing hot as you give it back to him in spades.

With a short groan, he pulls back, a wet click as your mouths separate- “As much as I wanna jump your bones in this wintry wonderland, I think the snow might’ve actually frozen my balls off.”

You giggle, spanning your hands around the meat of his waist, kissing up into his mouth again- “Poor baby. Want me to warm ‘em up in my mouth?”

He gives a solid smack to your ass for that, his palm smoothing over the stinging skin with condescension when you yelp- “All dish and no take, baby? Not exactly fair.”

____

Despite your weak protestations that you both should probably rejoin the party, at least until midnight, Eddie insists on taking you back to the hotel.

“This party blows, anyways,” he says over his shoulder to you as he leads you back through the halls of the house. “If I hear one more Tears for Fears track I might throw myself into the river from one of the hundred balconies in this place.”

He manages to track down Melanie with some effort, winding his way through the throng of people to where she’d been chatting with a reporter, plucking at her elbow to get her away from the crowd and into the quieter hallway with you.

“We gotta scoot, Mel,” he tells her, really hamming up the charm as the young publicist widens her eyes. “Think you can get us a ride outta here?”

“Mr. Munson, you can’t just leave,” Melanie insists, frazzled. “Someone from Rolling Stone has been waiting for the last hour to talk to you, if you could just-”

“No can do.” Eddie shakes his head, mock-apologetic. “There’s been an accident. Of a personal nature.”

You manage to choke down your laughter as Eddie turns around to show off the dark stains on the back of his jeans. They’re just wet from the snow that he sat in earlier, of course, but it looks convincing enough to make Melanie blanch and pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I’ll have a cab out front in ten for you both. Please keep a low profile until then.”

Eddie gives a sharp salute and you mouth an apology at her before she retreats to find a phone.

Okay, so maybe add a hefty bonus to that Nice Things for Melanie list of yours.

____

One of the perks of having a rockstar for a boyfriend is the sweet digs- the label shelled out for Chicago’s finest penthouse suite; an entire luxurious upper floor with a private elevator, windows overlooking the far-below city lights, and a sunken bath big enough for two.

Also included? Soundproof walls.

A perk you’re very grateful for as Eddie walks you backwards into the room, sucking a mark with stinging teeth into your neck as you moan, then giggle breathily, admonishing- “Christ, Eddie, slow down. We have all night.”

Eddie pulls back just far enough to frown down at you, his hands slipping under the hem of your dress to squeeze at your ass. His rings are cold against your bare flesh, and he grins when you shiver. “Uh huh. Sure do have all night. You gonna take advantage of that?”

He wiggles his eyebrows, cheekily, but that smirk drops from his face in record time the second you shove him to the bed. As his knees give out in favor of sitting on the mattress, you steady your hands against his broad shoulders to swing yourself into his lap.

Eddie’s looking up at you, cinnamon eyes darkened with lust- it makes your stomach flip something awful. Your skin feels alight with heat as Eddie’s hands drip like water down your sides, then to your parted thighs.

You sigh into his mouth as his fingers trace the front of your underwear, the silk sticky with your arousal.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie says, equal parts admonishment and pitying as you squirm into his touch. “What’s got you this worked up, hm?”

He’s asking like he doesn’t know- like he didn’t tease you with filthy whispers and wandering hands in the back of the car the whole way here.

“Whaddya think,” you scoff, not quite ready to give in yet, enjoying the thrill of being cagey as Eddie hooks a finger to tuck your panties to the side.

He grins, simmering, enjoying the chase just as much as you. His middle finger swipes through your folds and you shudder in his arms, hands tightening into the meat of his shoulders as he brings the wetness up to your clit.

Eddie rubs quick, steady circles until you’re mewling, bucking hips grinding down to seek more friction. You can feel the wetness seeping out of your core, dampening his jeans as he licks back into your mouth, capturing the soft noises you’re making as he winds you up.

“Can’t believe a pretty thing like you has anything to be jealous of.” Eddie noses at the spot under your jaw, and when you let your head fall back on a hinge to grant him access, he sucks another mark into the column of your throat. “‘M all yours, sweetheart. You gonna take what’s yours?”

Truth be told, your mind went fuzzy the second Eddie got his hands on your clit, the consistent build of pleasure sparking between your legs rather distracting. You’d almost forgotten how the night had started, but you let the jealousy and possessiveness creep back in as you push at Eddie’s chest.

He goes down easily, toeing his boots off and lying flat on the mattress; big hands settle on your waist as you rest your weight into him, warm cunt pressing against the bulge of his clothed cock.

At a light drag of your nails against his bare chest and across his nipple, Eddie groans low, squeezing your hips and rucking into you.

“You’re all mine, Eddie, right?”

His pupils nearly eclipsing their soft brown irises, Eddie stares up at you like you hang the moon and stars every night just for him. “Yeah, sweetheart. ‘M all yours. Lemme show you.”

Eddie pulls at the backs of your legs, helping you shuffle up his body until your knees are dipping into the mattress at either side of his head. Your core hovers just above Eddie’s mouth- you can feel his breath speed up on the inside of your thigh at this new position.

“Oh, fuck, Eddie- jesus… christ,” the last word ending in a moan as Eddie’s tongue licks a wet stripe through your folds.

He pulls you closer with an arm over each thigh until you’re sitting on his face, his nose hitting your clit with each tilt of his head. You’ve got no idea how he’s able to breathe down there but you’re hardly able to hold onto that thought when his tongue has started plunging in and out of you.

Automatically, your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself- one hand goes to the headboard and the other ends up in his hair, gripping the roots hard. Eddie groans, sending vibrations that make your cunt clench around his lithe tongue.

“Like the taste of my pussy, baby?” you coo down at him, regaining some of your breath to give him attitude.

Reaching a hand back to palm at his cock, you say “No one else can have you like this, hm?”

Eddie catches your eyes as he mouths wetly at your clit, then sucks it into his mouth. Your thighs shake around his ears, your orgasm unfurling in clenching ripples.

“Oh, yeah, Eddie, fuck, I’m coming- just like that, fuck fuck fuck…”

He doesn’t stop suckling at you until you’re gushing around his mouth, then pulling him off by his hair to make him stop.

Eddie heaves in a breath, kissing at the inside of your thigh, his lips and chin shiny with your release. “God, baby. Such pretty noises for me.”

“Mhm.” You shuffle down until your hips are aligned over his, then lean in to lick his mouth clean. “Gonna make some pretty ones for me, now?”

After helping pull his shirt off, Eddie whines softly as you press kisses down his bare chest, and by the time your mouth is pressing over that dark trail of hair that leads into his denim, Eddie’s begging.

“Please, angel, please- need your mouth. Do anything for it, baby, please…”

You rub your cheek against his bulge before pulling back to pop the button on his jeans, then help him shift them down and off his body. Once his black briefs join the growing pile of floor clothes, Eddie’s completely bare and at your mercy.

He gets on his elbows to watch as you mouth at the inside of his thigh, dark hair splayed around his shoulders, chest heaving when you ignore his leaking cock in favor of grazing your teeth against a sensitive spot. “Fuckin’- christ, sweetheart. Come on. Please?”

“Sound pretty when you beg,” you say, mildly, kissing across his heavy sack, hiding a smile when the contact makes him jolt. “Gonna do it some more?”

You keep eye contact as you take one of his balls into your mouth, watching his own eyes roll back so far you can see the whites of them as you use your tongue on him.

“-yeah, baby, yeah- just like that- fucking, fuck, you’re killin’ me…”

Eddie sounds wrecked already, and a hot flush of pride courses through your body at the knowledge that he could come from just this and it’d be you getting him there.

You mouth over to the other side of his sack, rolling the skin wiry with coarse hair against your tongue as Eddie moans above you. When your hand wraps around the base of his cock, starting to move in tandem with the pull of your mouth, Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched.

A line of drool breaks and hits wet against your chin as you straighten up, settling yourself into the V of his legs and using his thighs as handholds while you begin to kiss up the line of his leaking cock.

He’s got a gorgeous dick, truly. Thick and long, curving slightly to the right, a pretty blue vein snaking up the underside that you lathe your tongue against, seeking out the salty brine at the ruddy head.

Eddie moans, brokenly, white-knuckled hands twisting into the sheets. When your mouth closes around the tip, his elbows give out, leaving him flat against the mattress as you work his length further in.

“Oh my god. Oh, fuck, baby. Please don’t stop. Please. Y’feel so good…”

You hum around the stretch of him in your mouth, relaxing your throat to draw him in a bit more. The spiky jealousy from earlier really is your biggest motivator here; covetous, you’re thinking back to all those first times with Eddie- trembling hands under your bedsheets back in Hawkins, stilted voices and giggles to cover up the awkwardness of trying to learn the other person’s body.

No one will ever know him like you do. No one will ever have all that shared history, those fumbling nights that slowly turned to lovesick days; memories of him on his knees for you, learning all the little things that make you tick, memorizing the song of your body.

The boy is all yours.

Your throat automatically constricts at the intrusion of Eddie’s cock slipping past your soft palate- his hips cant up, which you can hardly fault him for, patient as he’s been with your retrospective and teasing.

Before he can apologize you’re sitting up, wiping at the excess drool with the back of your hand and shucking your dress over your head, letting it and your belt fall to the floor with a soft clunk.

Eddie reaches for you again as you slide your panties down and off, and you let him help you up his body, your knees coming to rest alongside the lightly raised scar tissue at his sides. You stroke a hand down his chest, giving in to a moment of softness before seating yourself fully in Eddie’s lap.

His hands snap to your hips, a near-brutal squeeze as you sink onto his cock. The stretch is always an adjustment, but you’re so wet right now that he slides in easily, a breathy moan from the both of you as the walls of your cunt fit snug around his sizeable length.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” The crown of Eddie’s head is pressed back into the bed, veins in his taut neck on full display as your hips start to swivel, blunt nails scraping into the soft flesh of your waist. “Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck me.”

With your knees planted on either side of his body, you begin to bounce in steady, rhythmic earnest, going for gold, the desire to bring your boy to the babbling edge overtaking every other thought.

“Feel so good, Eds, so big… can barely fit…” There’s a wet squelch accompanying each bounce now, slick dripping down to the base of his cock, your vice of a cunt flexing with every movement.

“S’all you, baby,” Eddie rasps out, toes curling in the efforts to keep his orgasm at bay for awhile longer. “Got a perfect pussy. Takin’ me so well.”

He’s almost in delirium territory, with you chasing after that bright unwinding pleasure at both of your cores; your hips stutter, hands flat on Eddie’s chest to center yourself, a hunger that you can’t seem to satiate gnawing at the edges.

Eddie notices immediately, feels the falter in your motion and brings his hands to your forearms, rubbing a path up them soothingly- “What’s wrong, angel, hm?”

You’re not sure how to put it into words, wishing (not for the first time) that you could just rest your forehead against his and transmit all the complexities of your emotions through touch alone.

Instead, you sigh out the name that you use when you’re done with taking, a name that lights Eddie up from head to toe as you say it- “Teddy.”

In one swift movement, Eddie slips an arm behind your back and flips you to the mattress, his hair a curtain around both your faces as he leans in to whisper against your mouth- “Teddy’s got you. Arms around me.”

You’re quick to obey, looping your arms around Eddie’s wide shoulders. He slides one hand up the back of your leg, pushing a knee up until it’s at your chest, mouth dropping open briefly when the new angle allows the head of his cock to kiss against that gummy upper wall of your cunt.

“Bored of you,” he huffs, recalling your words from earlier with disdain. “You’re talkin’ to the guy who memorized the first six chapters of The Hobbit just to recite for your bedtime.”

A quick thrust of his pelvis into yours has your stomach clenching in anticipation, brows on a tilt and knitting together as Eddie grins down at you. “Got a wicked attention span, baby. Lemme show you.”

He starts slow, agonizingly so, every inch of his thick cock dragging in and out, wetness pooling down your ass and probably the sheets, too; errant thoughts of housekeeping are rapidly erased as Eddie begins snapping his hips into yours in faster tempo.

He’s working to find that spot, the one that turns your brain to mush and is guaranteed to cause full-body muscle fatigue from the force of your orgasm. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pushing into Eddie’s chest, one arm still supporting your lower back as he laughs hoarsely, half-amazement and half-pride.

“That’s the spot, huh, sweetheart? Atta girl. M’all yours. Take it. Good girl…”

With each thrust, the wiry patch of hair dusted across Eddie’s pubic bone grinds slick and filthy against your clit. You’re so close to the edge now, a wave of pleasure cresting as you look up at Eddie.

There are two thin tracks of black makeup trailing down his face from where tears have made a mess of his eyeliner; rosy spots of flushed color in his cheeks, eyes like twin pools of chocolate, locked with yours as he rocks into you.

He’s learned the song of your body so well, knows every chord to strike- his hand leaves your leg to grasp at your breast, calloused palm against pebbled nipple sending more shockwaves through your body, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you sing for him.

“All yours,” you gasp out, and it feels like victory when his hips stutter and the cresting wave crashes around you both at the same time.

The pleasure roils through your gut, clit throbbing and cunt spasming around Eddie’s cock as he spills into you.

A wrecked, broken string of moans leaves you as you ride out the highs together. Eddie presses his forehead to your collarbone as he chants your name, twitching out the last of his spend, warmth blooming inside.

The quiet that follows is filled with shaking breaths, soft kisses, murmurs of “good job, sweetheart” as you both float back down to earth.

Eddie stays in you for longer than usual, his draped weight a grounding comfort as you trail gentle fingertips up and down his skin, lovingly against the scars that interrupt the smooth flesh of his back. Through the closed windows, you can hear the distant sounds of car horns and the deep boom of fireworks.

Sometime in the last foggy hour of lovemaking, 1987 has given way to a new year.

Eddie pulls his heavy head up from your chest to press kisses to your collarbone. “Happy new year, lover.”

You tuck his hair behind his ears, hands squishing lightly at his cheeks to bring his face close enough for a kiss. “Happy new year to you. Hell of a way to kick it off.”

Eventually, Eddie extricates himself from the intoxicating heat of your body (with minimal whining) and brings a warm washcloth to tenderly wipe away the mess between your thighs. Once you’re both cleaned up, he stretches out against the sheets, pulling the covers up as you hook a leg around his waist and snuggle in.

“So I was thinking,” he starts, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I wanna take a trip back to Hawkins. Before the tour.”

Your hand stills in its rhythmic circles against Eddie’s chest; heart in your throat, you tilt your chin up so you can gauge Eddie’s reaction. “...yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie picks up your hand on his chest, twining his fingers with your as his other hand settles on your bare hip beneath the sheets. “Could visit Wayne for a few days, fool around in that twin bed like we’re teens again.”

He grins at your giggle, taps playfully at your hip- “Gonna parade you around all our old haunts. You’ve gotten even hotter since we left, babe. Gotta really rub it in the faces of those Hawkins Tigers burnouts whose best dates are their own left hands.”

You snort, and Eddie looks pleased again, but then sobers a bit before saying- “I mean, I’ve got my piece of home with me. But I think it could be good, to visit. Just the two of us.”

You’re quiet for a moment, a longing for home that you’ve managed to ignore these past few years resurfacing. “Can we get high and go to that diner? I mean, Nell’s isn’t as good as Benny’s was, but I’ve been craving a Hawkins milkshake.”

“Christ.” Eddie hides his smile in the crook of your neck, dimples springing to life. “You could ask for the Mona Lisa and I’d find a way to get it to you. Fries and a milkshake, that all I need to keep my girl happy?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a contented noise as Eddie settles against your chest again. “That’s all I need.”

___

thank u thank u for reading if you made it this far have a little kiss from me to you <3 xx lulu

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie

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bunnys-kisses · 13 days ago

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Hi Bunny! Could I please order a zebra cake, pots de crème, and ice cream bars with an espresso shot, tonic water, and juice served by Fernando? - 🍯

bakery menu

thank you to those who had submitted! i've been slowly working on new orders! slowly, but surely i will get through all of them. bakery orders are mostly filled on fridays-sundays, a little weekend treat for everyone! i've had a real kick with fernando alonso fics, so i hope you enjoy!!

zebra cake: "well, what do we have here?" + pots de crème: "if a picture is worth a thousand words, then i could probably get a million dollars for this photo." + ice cream bars: “did you see the way he was eyeing you? he need to know you're mine." + espresso shot: dirty talking + tonic water: age gap + juice: cockwarming served by fernando alonso (formula one)!!

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/40s), cockwarming, dirty talking/degrading language, jealous!fernando (sorry liam lawson), mating press, references to breeding/pregnancy

fernando alonso was a possessive man. but he was also a driven man. someone couldn't survive so many seasons of racing without the drive to do it. fernando believed that he could smoke these rookies out, he could make them taste true defeat.

he could win another championship before these rookies could even taste the podium. he was that confident. but that didn't mean that these new guys didn't get under his skin.

as he sat at the bar with a drink in hand. he watched you talk with the rookies of the upcoming year, in fairness you were closer in age with them. so fernando, while possessive, wasn't a monster. but, the green eyes monster wasn't immune to make an appearance. especially when liam lawson touched your upper back. fingers trailed across exposed parts of skin.

now that won't do...

fernando put his glass down and got up from the bar. he moved through the club until he reached where you were seated in the booth with the rookies, "well, what do we have here?" he said, he kept a smile as he got beside you, squishing you between liam and him. he draped an arm around you and you easily folded against him.

"we're just chatting." you replied as you looked at your lover.

fernando looked towards liam and said, "chatting. well, princess. we have to get back to the hotel soon. it's getting late." he didn't want to show his jealousy on his sleeve. but he also wanted liam to never touch you again.

"do we have to? it's not that late." you replied.

"yeah, c'mon, alonso. she's right, it's not that late. got some medications before bed you have to take." the rookie laughed as he took a sip of his stiff drink.

fernando held you a little closer. he gave one look to liam and then turned to you. his expression was a little softer as he cupped your face with his other hand, "you said you wanted to go the museum before we left tomorrow. hard to do that when you're out all night."

you remembered and nodded, 'right, right. i totally forgot!" you were instantly up which made fernando laugh. you were both soon out of the booth with your purse in hand. as you walked away, fernando draped an arm around your waist.

he looked over to the rookies and winked. they wished they could get a girl like you at their age. but, you didn't have eyes for boys. you wanted a man. and fernando was more than enough for you.

up against the side of the building, fernando pinned you against the brick by the waist. your head tilted back a little to expose the slope of your neck, which he decorated with bites and kisses. he groaned against your skin, his erection strained against his jeans, “did you see the way he was eyeing you? he needs to know you're mine."

you moaned, "honey, babe. i think he knows. i wear your colours and number everytime i'm at the track!" you gripped onto his shoulders and fernando just pressed into you further. you felt the leap in your pulse as the heat twisted in your core.

"not enough. not enough for a brat like him." he gripped onto you tighter and the kisses got hungrier, "as much as i'd love to fuck you up against this wall. i don't want someone to see what is mine."

you moaned a little and he placed a kiss on your lips. you melted into his warmth. fernando was a passionate lover, the kind that could make anyone shudder with want. years of experience under his belt and he used it to blow your mind.

when he pulled away, he hiked up your skirt a little to show the black panties underneath. he knew on the ass was luck number 14 printed on them. he licked his lips, "if a picture is worth a thousand words, then i could probably get a million dollars for this photo."

you gave him a look and before you knew it. you were in his car, headed to the hotel. his hand on your thigh as he zipped through the streets to get to the hotel. you barely made it into the room before fernando had himself pressed up against your back. his strong arms wrapped around your waist. he moved up against you and you felt a shudder of heat through your body.

you had to be quick to get the dress off before fernando tore the thing off of you. you ended up on the bed in just your underwear and you could hear the rustle of fernando's clothes. you felt your pulse leap when he eventually got on the bed behind you. your back arched when he palmed your ass.

"so beautiful. you can see why i'm so protective of you. these boys don't know how to keep their hands to themselves." he gripped your left cheek for a moment before he pulled the panties down then undid your bra with ease.

you were both soon naked and fernando put you onto your back and was between your legs. he wanted to see your beautiful face when he made you feel good. you looked up at him and felt the blush in your face.

he licked his lips and scratched his beard before he took you by the legs and got them up onto his shoulders, his heavy cock pressed against you. the stretch in your thighs felt good as he rubbed the blunt head against your slick pussy.

"fuck, nando." you arched your back a little to get comfortable on the bed before he sank his cock into you. you felt the rush of pleasure from the stretch of his cock inside of you. your short nails dug into the white covers of the hotel bed.

fernando sank his impressive length into you. you knew his cock was perfect, it wasn't the biggest of all time. but you didn't need that because fernando knew exactly how to use what he had. and it left you feeling good each time. so he didn't need a horse cock to make you see stars. but its thickness did leave you feel hot all over, the stretch always left you whining.

and fernando loved the sounds of your whines. how pretty you sounded when you took him. and you did so beautifully. his dark eyes lingered on you as he moved against you. he pressed into your further. your ankles on his shoulders as he rutted against you. he watched your breasts bounce with each thrust.

"so pretty." he mused, "you don't need one of those rookies. you just need me. maybe i should send lawson a message next time he thinks that he can touch you. touch what is mine." he stopped his movements for a moment and leaned into you further.

you stayed trapped under him while you kept his cock warm. he pinned your wrists to the bed. further pinning you to the mattress. and his lips found your neck. you moaned a little and squirmed.

his cock felt heavy inside of you. a weight that made your brain feel empty. you thought of very little while fernando had sex with you. he rocked his hips a little, almost teasing you while you kept him inside of you.

"i'd say a ring, but that idiot would look past it." he pinned you further onto the bed. your pussy clenched around his cock. you shuddered when he added, "maybe a tattoo. my name on your chest because he loves looking at your tits." he licked his lips. his cock nudged against a soft spot of yours and it made your toes curl.

fernando could be very dominant. and the thought of him making you get a tattoo of his name turned you on greatly. it made you feel heated while you stayed pinned under him. your cock taken him to the root.

"please." you whimpered, "you know i'm scared of needles."

he chuckled as he rocked a little further against you. he felt the throb of pleasure in his brain, "maybe a tattoo across your back and only put you in those short tops." he felt you clench around him, "i'll hold your hand while you get it. no need to scared when i'm there." he groaned. while he could've happily had you seated on his cock all night. he needed to fuck you. he needed to watch your body move with his rough thrusts. especially when you looked so nice under him. liam lawson could never have you like this.

you gripped onto the covers a little tighter as he started to move once more. you felt the flush of heat in your face while he fucked you once more. the air left your lungs when his cock hit against the right areas. fucking fernando was something else, he blew your previous experiences out of the water. everything seemed lack-luster after the first time you were with the older man.

he held onto your hands as leverage while he fucked you with heavy strokes. he gazed at your expressions and said, "maybe i should just knock you up. hard for lawson or any of the others to flirt with you when your attention is on my child." he grinned at you like a mad man and it made your stomach twist.

he continued to fuck you and you loved every second of it. the promise of how he was going to make sure that the rookies didn't get too handsy made your pulse leap. the pleasure of everything made sparks fly in your brain. there was something about fernando that left you breathless. you knew you weren't going to last much longer.

fernando kept you in the position you were in, he fucked you like he was trying to fuck you into the mattress under your sweaty back. he gave you kisses, but they were hungry and rough. his words lingered in your mind as you tensed up. your lover groaned against your kisses.

it didn't take much longer before you finished around him. your back arched with the little room between you two. you could feel his cock nudge and prod against you roughly. your eyes rolled back a little bit and your mouth hung open but unable to form words. it was hard to when climax hit you so hard that your mind went blank.

fernando noticed and he felt the excitement in his body. he worked himself against you and it made you feel like you were on cloud nine. he fucked you through your orgasm before he finished inside of you with a few more steady thrusts. he gripped onto your hands and pressed himself as deep as he could go. he wanted to make sure that reminders of him stayed in you.

you panted heavily as he slowed to a stop. he took you by the face and kissed you on your slightly parted lips. his words of praised curled in your brain but couldn't be fully processed.

"fuck." he groaned as he pulled out and ended up next to you. he pulled you onto his chest as you laid there together. you kissed at his bare chest and rubbed your cheek against the hair across it. your thighs rubbed together. he loosely held you back while you kissed him.

ideas swirled in his head for how to prevent liam lawson from touching you again. because no one touched what belonged to fernando alonso. <3

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httpiastri · 4 months ago

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pepe crying and banging his head on the back of the cockpit UGHHHHHHH IM GONNA CFY WHY IS RHE WORLD AGAINST HIS FAVORS 🍯

stoppp i didnt even see that bcs i was to heartbroken to keep looking 😭😭😭😭

#why does the world not like pretty boys?????#make it make sense #asks!#anon!#honey anon!#🍯!

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thats-how-i-like-it · 5 months ago

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when I saw this template I knew I had to make it.

credits to @/pro-moonstar, here's the blank!

#ray talks about.💫#my f/os #proship game #selfship #proship #comship #floating cloud candy 🍬#my little blond boy ✨#honey bones 🍯#the mischievous redheads 🍒#against all odds 🖤#that wonderful magician 🔮

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aimedis · 2 months ago

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guy & honey headcanons 🍕🍯

"you are getting close.. hi! hi baby, i love you..."

honey calls guy “baby” occasionally (it's quite frequent actually) and he loves it so much

guy is good at reigning himself in now because of the one time honey seemed to get a little too exasperated with him and he felt horrible and closed his mouth for the rest of the day (they had a talk about boundaries and each person’s needs in their relationship and it’s never happened again)

honey has little moments of being clingy with guy but in the way that they just like to hold him and tell him that they love him without snarky comments (they claim they can’t do it all the time because they can’t have guy getting a big head, them being mean to him is to keep the world in balance)

guy physically can’t handle it when honey flirts back with him or initiates any affection, he gets very very flustered and his eloquence flies out the window (cue guy’s face blowing up red and honey laughing at him)

it doesn’t matter how long they’ve been together, sometimes honey being any more than two inches in front of guy makes him nervous as hell

sometimes honey can’t help but smile at guy all adoring like

honey loves playing with guy's hair. sometimes when he's talking, they'll just run their fingers through it and it automatically makes him shut up and lean into their hand

honey and guy don't argue a lot and when they do it doesn't really get heated, they just talk for hours on end about whatever they're disagreeing about

they have movie nights where they just watch really shitty movies/shows and make fun of them while eating candy and snacks

honey sometimes plays horror/thriller movies on purpose just so guy can snuggle up to them in fear and hide in their neck (also so he clings onto them at bedtime)

guy almost never wants to be big spoon (when they both want to be little spoon, they'll rock paper scissors for it but if he loses, guy starts whining so much that honey just lets him be little spoon anyways)

sometimes guy comes home from a long day and can't stand the thought of speaking another word so honey just puts on his favourite show and holds him

honey plays solitaire and they're not very good at it (guy finds them raging over the fucking card game at their computer)

honey does their work in bed sometimes and guy just snuggles up to them to fall asleep to the keyboard clicking sounds

guy is only semi-good at cooking anything that's not pizza and honey is really good at so they do most of the cooking

guy bakes a lot though (he stress and apology bakes)

whenever the two are on the couch together, more often than not guy's head is on honey's lap

honey has adapted guy's colourful vocabulary subconsciously and the only reason they noticed, was because when they were speaking to a friend they said something guy would say as a joke and the friend was like "...what?"

the two have a billion inside jokes

honey gets stressed out very often and guy just holds their hand while they rant

a lot of the time when guy is rambling about nothing, honey is just playing with his fingers

honey's clothes are also guy's clothes

guy gets jealous frequently. but it's like a play jealous. honey can't even speak of another person's name or he'll go on a 20 minute rant about how they don't need anyone else in their life other than him (as a joke of course)

honey's type of jealous is a raised eyebrow and a "hm."

guy got his wisdom teeth taken out and he was in a constant cycle of "you're so pretty i wish you were my partner" "i am your partner, guy" "...really?? :0" for three hours until he fell asleep long enough for the anesthesia to wear off

they're both usually awake at the same time in the morning but guy usually leaves first. honey kisses him in the three exact spots every single day before he leaves (forehead, nose, and lips)

sometimes guy bites honey when they're not paying enough attention to him

their song is good-old fashioned lover boy (remastered 2011) by queen

guy just stares at honey a lot, admiring them

honey also stares back at guy when he's talking. guy has stopped mid-rant so many times because they were looking at him so deeply

guy loves kissing honey on the lips

honey loves kissing guy's forehead

both of their love languages are quality time and acts of service

they have "nuh uh" "yuh huh" battles every day

sometimes guy calls honey when he's on break just to talk because the people at his job don't deserve the level of yap he gets when he's with them

guy is constantly trying to get honey to stay in bed with him and sleep in

whenever honey does or says something really sweet, guy starts crying because he knows how hard it is for them to show their affection so blatantly

honey "helps" guy shave (they're just doing it for him)

guy does honey's hair for them

they're the type of couple to do different things in the bathroom at the same time (guy will be brushing his teeth while honey showers)

they watch celebrity scandal recap videos in bed together

honey has fallen asleep during one of guy's rants before (his voice relaxes them unfortunately)

honey is just as much of a menace to guy as he is to them

whenever anything happens, the other is always the first to know (work drama, family drama, big news etc.)

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted asmr headcanons #redacted asmr guy #redacted asmr honey #redacted guy #redacted honey #this isn't as long as i could make it but #shoulder shrug #these two are so cute #they're so unserious #and i love them #kae's headcanons

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lovebugism · 10 months ago

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hi hi hi!!! congratulations on one year!! you've accomplished so much and i'm so very happy for you! you deserve all the love and more 🫶🏻💞

as always, i have to leave a little dad!steve request, because who would i be if i didn't? lol. anyway, since you are celebrating your one year, i was hoping maybe we could get something like dad!steve and mom!reader celebrating their one year as parents, aka giving their lil girl her first birthday party? i can just imagine aunt robbie and uncle eddie spoiling steve's baby girl almost as much as he does 🥹

congrats again, bug! love you so so much 🫶🏻

- @honeysuckleharringtons 🍯💛

ty angel!! and ty for keeping dad!steve alive on this blog hahah — you and steve struggle to cope when your baby turns one year old (mom!reader, fluff, 1.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Steve rises that morning before you do. He couldn’t say he woke up, really, ‘cause he didn’t sleep at all. Maybe an hour or more, but that’s being generous. Between decorating the house after you put the baby down (his soon-to-be one-year-old, that is) and stressing all night about tomorrow, tomorrow finally came. Tomorrow is now, and his baby’s a whole year older.

He worried and worried and worried, and the time passed anyway.

You rouse with a cat-like stretch. You look at the clock first, 7:26 a.m., and then over at the boy beside you. He’s already looking at you, the creep. His features are gently swollen from the weight of his middling slumber — pretty pink smile soft and slightly crooked.

The attention makes you cower as your eyes squeeze shut again. No one should be looked at so fondly so early in the morning.

“Do you know what day it is?” Steve croons to you.

He props his wild head on his fist and smooths a free hand up your stomach, bare from where your shirt had risen. Your skin is as warm and as soft as it ever was, and his chest stings because Nellie used to be in there. He agonized nine months over for her arrival, and now she’s here — in the bedroom down the hall — and one year old already.

You scoff a faint laugh, weighed down with exhaustion. Of course, you know what day it is, but you humor him anyway. “No, Steve. What day is it?”

“We’ve been parents for a whole entire year,” he whispers, voice faraway with disbelief.

“Oh. How could I forget?” you joke, giggling into the kiss he gives you.

He pulls away with a gentle smack and smiles softly down at you. “Remember when we thought we wouldn’t make it?”

“That first night,” you answer with a sigh, heavy eyes fluttering shut again. “After we brought her home, and she just… wouldn’t stop crying…”

“Yeah, I know the one…” Steve hasn’t been able to forget it, really. He doesn’t think he ever will, or if he even wants to. It was the first day out of the hospital and the very first time he felt like a parent, when it was just him and you and a colicky baby. It felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

The stress of the long-gone moment still stings.

“I thought the world was gonna end,” you confess.

Steve’s wide hand gives your bare side a reassuring squeeze. “And look at you now. A total pro.”

“Hush.”

“You are.”

“Only ‘cause I’m copying you,” you argue, equal parts sincere and deflecting. Your wild head tilts against the pillow, and you bring a heavy hand to his jaw. Your palm settles along his stubble with a playful roughness. “I’m glad I shacked up with the best dad ever and not some other schmuck.”

Steve’s grin widens until his honey eyes crinkle at the edges.

“I’m blushin’, baby,” he teases lowly, then leans down to kiss you again.

It’s a mixture of subtle morning breath and the coffee he’d had an hour or more ago. It’s a chaste peck first, to gain your footing in the early morning, and then a more intentional second one. Then he kisses you a third time, a much more languid thing. His exhaled sigh brushes your cupid’s bow when he melts into you.

You pull back from him (as much as it hurts you) before he can give you a fourth.

“We need to start getting ready,” you tell him. “People will be here soon.”

His features scrunch together, just like Nellie’s does right before she cries. Steve buries his face into your shoulder with a whine that rivals your baby’s. “No— I don’t want people to be here soon.”

Your laugh matches the sunrise. “You planned the party, Steve.”

“Yeah, but when people come over, it means the party’s started,” he rambles, muffled into your neck. “And when the party’s started, it means Nellie’s officially a year old.”

Your hands smooth up and down the length of his pale, freckled back. “Well, technically, she won’t be a year old until later tonight, so… You’ve still got a couple hours with a baby.”

He sniffles, and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

“Steve, I’m just kidding,” you coo with a soft giggle. “She’s still a baby! She’s always gonna be our baby.”

“Yeah, except now she’s a baby that can walk,” he whines. “And eventually, she’ll be a baby that can talk— and then she’ll be in college, and then she’ll be married—”

“Well, at this rate, you should probably start preparing for her to move out,” you joke drily. He sniffles again. You cave. “Sorry…”’

—————

You languish in the grass a couple hours later, over an old quilt Steve pulled from the top of your closet.

Energy seems to seep from your pores, ebbing with the setting sun. You’ve spent the better part of your day running after Nellie and tending to guests. Now, all you really want is some peace and quiet, a shower, and a good cry.

Steve sits just beside you, leaning back on his arms while you lay on your stomach. Both of you keep a vigilant eye on your baby girl — watching while she gets all the attention she deserves and smiling to yourselves because she’s the most loved baby in the universe.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Steve asks after a few minutes of silence. Well, not silence, exactly. The radio’s playing distantly, and the chatter hasn’t stopped since Dustin arrived (first, of course, and a whole hour early).

“It’s stressing me out that there’s food on a blanket,” you murmur in response, chin bobbing against your folded arms.

Steve laughs through the chips in his mouth. “Well, that’s the point of a picnic, baby.”

“I know,” you sigh and get distracted again. “I can’t believe how popular our baby is.”

“Well, I mean, she is our daughter, so… It kinda checks out.”

“Shut up.”

“Look at Eddie— What an idiot.” Steve chuckles as he watches the wild-haired boy drive around the backyard in a bright pink Barbie Jeep. It was a present for Nellie, of course, but she can hardly walk, let alone drive the damn thing.

Eddie cruises around in it for her, lanky limbs barely fitting inside. It whirs as he drives it back and forth over the patio.

Nellie’s having more fun watching him than she would be driving it herself, you think. She squeals with delight in Joyce’s arms, smiling a big, toothless smile and clapping (as best she can with chubby baby hands) every time Eddie reappears from behind her.

“How’s our baby so pretty?” you wonder quietly to yourself. “Like, how did we do that?”

Steve ponders the question with a deep huff. He turns to lie next to you on his back, then grimaces when the ground does little to cushion his aching spine. A harsh reminder that he’s not sixteen anymore.

“Well… Her mom is the most beautiful woman on the planet, and her dad’s pretty alright, so… One plus one equals two, I guess.”

You squint. “Don’t flirt with me, Harrington.”

“Can’t help it,” he shrugs with a boyish, lopsided grin. “You’re too pretty. I have to love on you, or I’ll die.”

You start to make a joke then — about how Little Eleanor definitely got all her dramatics from her father. But then Steve leans in to kiss you, and you lose it. You can taste the birthday cake and Coca-Cola on his breath as he nears you. You forget how to form words in your mouth.

“Wait,” you murmur, pulling back before he can kiss you. You raise a hand to swipe away the crumbs sticking to the corner of his mouth. “Okay. Now you can kiss me.”

You never need to tell him twice. His lips meet the very corner of yours until he can realign himself for a more direct, proper peck to your mouth.

“Hey, hey, hey!” you hear Hopper scold from ahead of you.

The two of you pull away from each other with a soft smack and find the man walking towards you. He’s got crumbs in his mustache and a cheekful of the hotdog he holds in his hand. He’s got his work boots on, too, paired with a pink and green tropical button-up. The coolest shirt he owns, you figure, especially for Nellie.

His sharp features are screwed with disgust. “This is a kid’s party. Keep your hands to yourselves.”

You laugh because the only real kid here is Nellie. And she’s far too obsessed with Eddie to care about anything else.

“Sorry, Hop,” Steve mumbles even though he doesn’t really mean it. He’s just not in the business of smart-mouthing the chief.

You are, though. And it’s one of the million reasons why he loves you so damn much.

You peer up at Hopper, squinting one eye to shield your gaze from the golden sun. “You know we have a baby together, right?” you wonder in a monotone.

He takes another too big bit of the hotdog and shrugs. “Well, yeah. She’s, like, the best thing ever— Obviously, I know that.”

“So then you also know that we kinda made her by not keeping our hands to ourselves.”

Steve chokes back a laugh when Hopper gets so suddenly stern. His features harden as he points a firm finger your way. “Don’t,” he murmurs in a feeble warning, then decides to leave well enough alone. He walks back towards the bustling party, beelining for Joyce and Nellie because he’s in desperate need of a purer cleanse.

“Holy shit…” Steve sighs when his laughter dies down.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he hums to himself, a soft smile on his lips. “I just love you.”

Your nose scrunches. “Ew.”

“Like, I get to be in love with you forever. How cool is that?”

His boyish musing makes your chest sparkle. “I’m glad you’re coping well,” you tease with a sigh as you lean over to lay on him. Your head rests against his chest. You can hear his heartbeat there, slow and firm. You exhale again, with content this time. “‘Cause you’re stuck with me, Harrington. For life.”

You feel a chuckle rumble in his chest. “You make it sound like it’s prison.”

“It’s not?” you joke.

“No, baby. It’s heaven. It’s better than heaven,” he tells you, then gets immediately distracted. “Wait— Like that song— Ooh, baby do you know what that’s worth—”

“Steve!” you giggle at his offkey crooning.

“—We’ll make heaven a place on earth!”

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