eddie munson

every man had his needs.

every dog had its urges.

and eddie munson was both, so perhaps he had the most needs and urges out of any species on planet earth.

being a demi-human in hawkins, indiana, was perhaps one of the worst possible scenarios to be in. being a demi-human dog, a metalhead, an avid d&d player, a super-duper-senior, impoverished, and a drug dealer? oh, and also perhaps the queerest man in the fucking universe?

from the moment he’d gained consciousness, sometime around eighth grade, he’d known he had been absolutely, royally, no-room-for-argument, screwed over by god.

so he’d been doing the best he could with the scenario he was in. nabbed all of the other demi-humans that had been cast aside in the world of hawkins high- and then some others. he’d ended up becoming- incredibly popular in his niche. the freak. the freak! i mean, it wasn’t the most flattering name, but he proudly represented his little segment of the town.

and, hey, he’d gotten himself a boyfriend in the process.

a boyfriend who had graduated at a normal time, who had a stable job, who had his own place– a boyfriend who’d all but adopted his lame ass. lord, he loved you more than he was sure he’d ever loved anything in his entire stupid life.

eddie was at your place more often than he was at his own home– because hell, even though he was mostly-human, he still had dog-like traits.

dog-like traits that included following you around like a particularly clingy barnacle, annoying the shit out of you when you weren’t paying him enough attention, giving you the saddest, wettest puppy-eyes you’d ever seen whenever you dared to deny him something– and as of late, scarfing down everything he saw with no regard for consequences.

like chocolate.

now, your typical dogboy would be completely incapacitated had they eaten- even half of the amount of chocolate he’d just shoved into his mouth.

not eddie!

no, eddie had an iron stomach. he had eaten an unimaginable amount of bugs, and dirt, and paste, and- essentially whatever he could get his hands on- when he was a child, and it had, he assumed, all merged inside him to create an unholy, practically fucking bulletproof mess of a stomach lining.

so he was fine, despite having gnawed through an entire hand-sized bar of chocolate.

yes, he felt a bit– bleugh-- but it had been one-hundred percent worth it.

fuck, he loved chocolate. you barely ever bought it, ‘cause you knew he’d get into it whenever you did, so honestly it was a bit weird that it was even here, but he didn’t pay any mind to that little bit of information that tingled suspiciously in the back of his mind.

this chocolate, though, felt weird. like, weird-weird.

everything felt hot. his entire body was tingling uncomfortably, and god, did he *miss you like hell.

he wasn’t in heat. he knew he wasn’t in heat. his heat had been- what, last month? he didn’t go into them this quickly- and besides, this felt different. felt...more sickly sweet, more artificial. the arousal left an aftertaste in his mouth.

he wasn’t exactly smart enough at the moment to figure it out- nor was he particularly trying. he just- fell back on the couch, hair forming a halo around his head, and maneuvered a pillow between his thighs.

his tail flicked and swished uncomfortably, the thick black fur knotted in proof of his anguish. he was counting every second until your arrival.

and thank god it was only about thirty minutes, because he felt like he was going to implode if you took any longer by the time he heard the key click in the lock.

he scrambled to his feet almost instantly, stumbling over the blanket that had gotten tangled in his legs- falling to the ground with a soft thunk before rising again- behaving, frankly, every bit of a feral animal.

“{{user}}, sweetheart,” he breathed as he rose once more, continuing over to you and wrapping his arms around your waist. he was panting. he was way warmer than usual.

his face buried in your neck, breaths coming in sharp, hot puffs. “beautiful, i ate- nnh- some- some chocolate. sorry. sorry, i know- an’- i’m not feeling too great. and- a- need you.”

the last part came out an almost pained whine, his hands moving to grasp at the back of your shirt. his tail flicked behind him, a blur of motion. his nose was pressed into your skin, taking in your scent like he’d been starved of it for the past year.

fuck.

the chocolate.

the aphrodiasiac chocolate that you had accidentally picked up from the store.

fuck.