#DILF Steve Harrington

[riality-check]

Steve, realistically, shouldn’t even be at this show. He doesn’t care about the band, he didn’t want to make the drive, and he had to bring Anna along because he couldn’t find a babysitter.

But he was going to suck it up to go with Dustin, who immediately bought tickets to see his favorite band when they went on sale. Who called Steve this morning to inform him, somehow both solemnly and frantically, that he had the worst food poisoning known to man, and, that until he stopped puking and shitting at the same time, he could not leave the bathroom.

Steve very much did not need to know that.

With Dustin went the rest of the Babysitters’ Club, all of them having eaten the same shady pizza and suffering the consequences. The only exception was Mike, lactose intolerant but cursed to take care of his idiot friends.

He texted Steve to ask if he had extra bleach. Steve dropped it outside the house because no way in hell was he entering that building.

Dustin assured him, amidst too much detail and shockingly disgusting background noise, that both tickets shouldn’t go to waste, and with no one able to babysit Anna, Steve should take advantage of both.

So, here he is. Standing in the first level - Dustin couldn’t get floor tickets, thank God - of a show for a metal band he has no intention of ever listening to and holding his four-year-old daughter, who has bright pink ear defenders looped around her neck in preparation for when it gets really, really loud.

“When are they starting?” she asks for the fourth time in as many minutes, with a sigh too big for her little body.

“In a few minutes,” Steve says, keeping an eye on the stage, where he watches the crew set up. Mad respect for them hustling so hard. He could never.

The seats are slowly filling up, and Steve feels a little sad for the first opener, a little sad that they don’t have a full house for their set.

A group of four guys takes the seats right next to Steve, with a pale, long-haired, big-eyed guy right next to him. He’s got tattoos on his arms and rings on all his fingers and a silver bar through his upper ear.

And he’s arguing emphatically with his friend next to him.

“I’m telling you, American Psycho is more recognizable!” he says, hands flying. Steve discreetly makes sure he and Anna aren’t within striking distance. “Not to mention cheaper!”

“A prop chainsaw,” his friend - a short white guy with shorter but equally wild hair - says, “can’t possibly be that hard to find by tomorrow.”

“We already have the axe!”

“I’m with Eddie,” the big white guy at the end of their group says. “I’m a sucker for American Psycho.”

“Okay, but I’m the guy who has to use the props,” the fourth friend, a Black guy with short braids who looks annoyed at this conversation, like they’ve had it before. “And I think I’d have more fun with the chainsaw.”

Eddie - the guy with long hair and heavy jewelry and hands with a mind of their own - rolls his eyes. It’s a full body movement, one that has him spinning to face Steve. When he does, his face cycles through a myriad of emotions too fast for Steve to really track.

“Hi, pretty boy,” he says. His eyes then dart down to Anna, who stares at him with her head cocked to the side. “Pretty dad. Dad. Pretty. Hi.”

“Eddie,” the short guy cautions.

“Yeah, sorry, anyway, can you be a tiebreaker for us?”

“Sure,” Steve says. Anna squirms, so he lets her out of his lap to stand, holding her hand all the while. “What do you need?”

“American Psycho or Texas Chainsaw Massacre?” the big guy asks.

“You gotta give him context.”

“No, I don’t, Jeff.”

The guy who said he’d be using the props - whatever that means - rolls his eyes and stops fighting.

“What’s American Psycho?” Anna asks, choosing the best time to pay attention to the conversation, like always.

“A movie you’re too young to see,” Steve says. “And the one I’m picking out of those two.”

“Oh, thank you,” Eddie says, using a tone that better fits Steve saving his drowning dog or something. He then turns to the rest of his friends and says, “I fucking told you!”

Anna gasps. “You’re not s’posed to say that!”

Jeff smothers a laugh behind his hands, while the other three guys stare at Anna, half confused, half admiring.

Eddie clears his throat, looking significantly abashed. "Sorry, Miss-"

"Anna," she says.

"Anna," Eddie finishes. Then he turns to Steve. "And you are?"

"Steve. No Mister for me though. I might be a dad, but I'm not that old."

"You are old, Daddy," Anna says.

Steve frowns down at her, where she stands at his feet. She's smiling, mischievous like she always is when she says something along these lines. "I'm not that old."

"Yeah you are! You're like, you're like, like, fifteen."

Jeff gives up on hiding his laughter.

"I'm older than fifteen," Steve says gently, trying not to laugh.

Anna’s jaw drops. “You are?”

“Thank God for that,” Eddie mutters, then shuts his jaw with an audible click.

Steve tried to come up with an answer for that, but someone comes on a mic and starts playing the drums, so he moves the defenders over Anna’s ears and pays attention to the show instead.

It's... fun, he guesses. Fun if he were into it, maybe. The first opener has a lot of energy, even if the music isn't melodic enough for Steve's taste. He finds himself tapping along to the steady beat, moving slightly in his seat to the music.

It's nice background noise. He'd put this on while he grades papers. It's steady enough to fill his head but doesn't have a whole lot of lyrics he could get distracted by and sing along to.

Eddie and his friends, meanwhile, are having the time of their lives. The short guy - Gareth, Steve thinks his name is - mimes the drum part of each song with startling accuracy. Archie jumps up and down, Jeff absolutely screams along, and Eddie-

Anna stares up at Eddie, eyes wide and jaw slacked as she watches him bang his head to the music.

Steve almost snaps a picture of it, this little moment, before the second song ends and Eddie snaps out of his zone.

He shakes the hair out of his face, then looks down at Anna, who's still staring at him. "What?"

She cocks her head to the side in a mirror of his. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"The," she pauses, then starts shaking her head really hard, side to side. Steve puts a hand on her shoulder before she slams into the chairs in the row in front of them.

Eddie laughs. "The headbanging?"

"Yeah," Anna says, nodding.

"It's a way I move to the music," Eddie explains.

"Like dancing?"

"Sort of," Eddie says. "It's easier. I look stupid when I dance."

"You're not s'posed to say that," Anna tells him solemnly. "Right, Daddy?"

Steve meets Eddie's eyes. Even with the lights down, they're big and pretty and reflective, and Steve is going to kick himself so hard if he chickens out before he can get his number.

"Right," he says, still looking at Eddie. "We're not supposed to call ourselves stupid."

"Sorry," Eddie whispers.

"Don't be."

Anna tugs on Steve's hand, then Eddie's. "Teach me."

"Anna," Steve cautions.

"Can you please teach me?" she corrects.

Eddie glances down at Anna, then back up at Steve. "If it's-"

"Go ahead," Steve says because Eddie has more than passed the vibe check at this point.

Eddie crouches down as a new song starts up, and while Steve can't hear what he's telling her, he sees her smile, bright as day.

By the last song of the first opener, Anna is headbanging along with Eddie, off-beat in the say little kids always are but more than making up for it with effort.

Steve gives into the impulse to take a picture.

When the first opener finishes, Steve picks Anna back up and takes her ear defenders off.

"Woah," she says. "Can I keep them-"

"Nope," Steve says. "They stay on when the music is on. You heard it fine, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but you-"

"I have my earplugs in," Steve says, pointing at them.

"So do I," Eddie says, and when he moves his hair back, sure enough, there are black earplugs nestled in his ears.

"You don't seem like the kind of guy to wear earplugs," Steve says.

"You don't seem like the kind of guy to come of a metal show," Eddie counters.

Anna climbs out of Steve's arms and onto his back, where she loops her arms around his shoulders and just hangs, like she does sometimes when she gets bored.

Weirdo kid, Steve thinks affectionately.

"That's because I'm not," Steve says. "I was supposed to come with a friend, but he got sick."

"Yikes," Eddie says. "You coming tomorrow, too?"

"I am," Steve says. "Are you?"

Eddie raises his eyebrows, like he didn't expect Steve to ask that. "Yeah, we'll be here. Not in these seats, though."

The lights go back down before Steve can ask what he means by that. He reaches behind him, scoops Anna back down on the ground, and puts her ear defenders on by the time the second opener strikes a scary-sounding opening chord.

Anna doesn't look scared at all. From the moment the music starts, she looks up at Eddie, and when he starts headbanging, she does, too.

Yup. Steve has effectively created a monster.

He contemplates, if Dustin is fine by tomorrow, skipping out on the show and giving his ticket to Anna, but that means not seeing Eddie again.

He really wants to see Eddie again, even if he won’t have the same seats.

Whatever that means.

Steve decides not to focus on that. He decides instead to focus on the moment. He listens to the music. He lets Anna take his hand and dance with it. He bops his head along with hers, but not too hard because he can’t risk aggravating his whiplash.

He enjoys the show, even if it’s not his cup of tea. It’s easy to enjoy the show, with Eddie next to him. It’s easy to enjoy his wild hair and pretty jewelry and big eyes and contagious enthusiasm.

It’s easy to see the way Eddie looks at him.

It’s also very easy, after the venue clears and Anna falls asleep in the car on the way home, to forget to ask for his number.

Shit.

(Part 2 is alive!!)

#ria writes #steddie #steddie ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #st ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #dilf steve harrington #corroded coffin #dilf and concert #d&c au

[maxinemaxmayfield]

🌊 feel the tide shifting (and wait for the spark) 🌊

Written as part of the @strangerthingsreversebigbang Word Count: 6267 Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Pairing(s): Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Minor Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham, Chrissy Cunningham & Steve Harrington Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunningham, Robin Buckley, Original Characters Tags: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Single Parent Steve Harrington, Single Parent Chrissy Cunningham, Aquariums, Zoo, Reunions, Getting Together, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Lesbian Chrissy Cunningham, 1990s Beta Reader: @sapphicsteddie Art: Link - @hereforanepilogue Fic: AO3 - @maxinemaxmayfield Second Fic: AO3 | Tumblr - @just-my-latest-hyperfixation

Summary: Steve's daughter is his entire world. He doesn't really have time for anything - or anyone - else. But when they take a trip to see the dolphins at the Indianapolis Zoo for her ninth birthday, Steve gets a blast from the past that could change his whole future.

or: the 90s-era, single-dad-steve, no-upside-down, background-buckingham aquarium au🐬

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things reverse big bang #strbb #steve harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #robin buckley #single dad steve harrington #dilf steve harrington #steddie dads #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #my fic

[dyslexicsquirrel]

This is a super rough draft and I'm working to polish it up for AO3 but have some childhood friends who kissed (no homo) second chance romance(?) Harringrove

I haven't posted anything in forever and this idea took over my body so uh I hope you like it? If you don't? Don't tell me lmao

Now I'm thinking about childhood friends Steve and Billy who practice kissing and whatever it's totally not gay. But Steve is like imagining their life after high school together, how they're gonna go to the same college and be roommates. Maybe if they get to kiss sometimes still that would be fine.

He tells Billy about it cause they're best friends and they tell each other everything. He thought Billy was on board. He helped Steve study, made sure he graduated.

So he's a little surprised when he gets to the school and Billy's Camaro isn't there cause he was running late but Billy always did like to make an entrance. Except Steve keeps checking down their row in the stadium and Billy never shows up. Doesn't come running onto the field when they call his name.

When he goes to return the cap and gown and pick up his diploma after the ceremony, the lady at the table check's her list and tells Steve "Looks like Billy picked his up the last day of class."

There's a big hole in the middle of Steve's chest that never really quite goes away. Not through college and parties or meeting his wife and getting married. Having his kids helps a bit but it's always there, sharp and jagged just like the boy who made it.

Steve focuses on work and raising his kids and maybe that's why his marriage falls apart. His wife handed him a big Manila envelope with sadness in her eyes. "You're a great dad and there's a part of me that will always love you, but I don't think you ever loved me, Steve, and I deserve better than that. We both do."

He agreed to everything, got split custody, and moved into an apartment in the city. It was beige and empty, but he covered it with pictures of his kids and ignored the way the hole in his chest started crumbling inward, growing every morning he woke up to silence until he felt hollow.

Steve got the kids for the summer and rented an RV. They were driving to California cause the kids had never seen the Pacific, he told his ex. She shrugged and sent them all off with hugs and kisses on the forehead. If a tiny voice in the back of his head called him a liar, he ignored it.

They ate at hole in the wall diners off the highway, but Steve splurged on hotels with pools cause sue him he was too high maintenance to live without soft sheets and good shower pressure.

Somewhere in Kansas or Colorado, Steve couldn't remember where they were right then, he saw the gas gauge getting low and pulling off at the next exit to find a place to get gas.

Steve almost ran a red light when he saw the sign at the convenience store on the corner. It had his brain lighting up like fireworks, memories of a past he didn't normally let himself think about crashing against the inside of his skull like waves.

There was no way. It was just a coincidence. He made sure the kids were fine and swung into the parking lot after the light turned green. "Dad's just a little tired. We'll find a place to check in after I fill up the tank."

The gas pump was old fashioned, not a single card reader in sight, and Steve shook his head with a chuckle, before rounding up the kids and heading inside. They dumped way too many snacks on the counter when they got to the front of the line. "Can I also get $40 on pump 3?" here told the guy behind the counter who was restocking cigarettes.

Short blonde hair, wide shoulders under a worn t-shirt, jeans so tight they molded to his ass and had Steve biting the inside of his cheek because he was in public, for fuck's sake.

He had to be really hard up if he was on the verge of making a spectacle of himself over some rando in a gas station. A grunt and the guy turned, pinning Steve with the brightest blue eyes Steve had ever seen.

Ones that haunted his dreams. "Billy?" he whispered, wallet slipping out of his numb fingers.

The guy who couldn't be Billy blinked at him, except he said, "Steve."

Robbie tugged on the hem of his shirt. "Who's that, dad?"

"Dad?" Billy repeated, sounding confused and a little accusatory. And seriously, fuck him.

"Just someone I used to know." He needed to get out of there before he made a scene of a different kind by jumping over the counter and punching Billy in his stupid, perfect face. "How much do I owe you?"

Billy's frown deepened. He bagged up all of the snacks, no longer meeting Steve's eyes and said, "Don't worry about it" when he handed them over.

Nope. He was not making it that easy. *You left. You left me. Why did you leave me?* clamored to get passed his lips, but Steve refused to be that pathetic when Billy obviously hadn't cared as much as Steve. He got his wallet off the floor and slapped his credit card on the counter, handing the kids the bags to hold.

Billy rolled his eyes, the way he had whenever they were kids and Steve did something Billy thought was stupid. They stood on silence except for the chatter of his kids and the bell chiming over the door when someone else came in. Steve took his receipt without a word.

"Come on, you two, let's go." He herded the kids toward the door, determined to walk out on Billy the way the other man had walked out on him, but Steve never did have much self control.

Billy was still watching him and their eyes met when Steve looked over his shoulder. "You know a good hotel around here?"

"There's a Best Western a few blocks down. Nicest place in town."

Was he imagining the question in Billy's eyes? Steve didn't know. Grace whined, "Come on, dad," the way only teenagers could and Steve let the door swing closed behind him.

Part of Steve was anticipating the knock at the door after the sun had set and the kids were both curled up in their beds. The other part called him an idiot for still holding a torch for the guy who broke his heart.

The rap on the door was soft, but Steve still jumped, tripping over his feet when he got off the couch.

There was Billy on the other side of the door, a cigarette dangling from his lips, hands shoved into his pockets.

Mindful of his kids, Steve stepped outside, leaving the door cracked behind him, while they stared at each other, the weight of all the years between them.

Billy broke the silence first, pulling the cigarette from his mouth, ash flicked from the tip in a cascade of sparks. "Where's Mrs. Harrington?"

That was about all Steve could take. He shoved at Billy's chest, still as solid as it had been back in high school, the prick. Billy didn't budge an inch. "I got divorced last year."

Billy took a long drag, a quiet "Shit" exhaled on a cloud of smoke.

"Yeah." Steve took the cigarette from Billy like they used to. He hadn't had a drag in years and almost choked.

There was no laughter, no jibe at Steve forgetting how to smoke. Instead, one of Billy's hands rubbed circles against Steve's back. Just that one touch unlocked something in Steve, all the years of longing, of loneliness, of regret. He wrapped his free hand around Billy's waist and tucked his face into the other man's chest.

"Why?" It came out garbled and wet from his tears but Billy understood all the same.

His answer made his tears run faster. But it was okay because size Billy's arms wrapped around him, holding Steve together. "Because I loved you too much."

"You're a fucking asshole."

"I know."

"I loved you too."

"I know." Of course he had.

They stayed like that until Steve got himself back together, the cigarette left to snuff itself out on the concrete. His eyes red and puffy and Billy wiped the moisture off his cheeks with his thumbs.

Steve leaned into Billy’s calloused palms, pulling the scent of Marlboroughs and warm skin into his lungs. He sniffed loud, echoed by the crickets and the distant traffic. He needed to say something or else he’d start crying again because Billy was looking at him the way Steve always secretly dreamed Billy would look at him one day.

He wanted to know what the hell he ‘loved him too much’ to stay meant, but this thing—could he call it a thing? Robin would probably call him a dingus right about now—was too shaky, like a house built on a cliff during an earthquake.

So instead, he said, “You know I meant why’d you pick that name when I asked why, but thanks for the declaration, I guess.”

Steve felt Billy’s chuckle where their chests still touched. “Now who’s the asshole?”

And, okay, Steve really was curious because Billy had to be the one who owned that place and had the balls to slap Pretty Boy on the front of a building.

Which meant he thought about Steve and the nickname he bestowed upon him enough to name his business after him. To have to see it every day and think about Steve.

So he was curious, but not enough to stop and ask when Billy was angling Steve’s head with the hand still holding his cheek to press their lips together.

It had been decades since the last time Steve and Billy kissed and it was still the best feeling in the world. The feeling of a full beard was new, but Billy’s hands felt the same, cradling the back of Steve’s head, the other pressed low on his back.

He still tasted like cigarettes and the mint gum he liked to chew.

Steve didn’t pull away until he heard the bathroom door close inside the room and even then he didn’t go far, pressing their foreheads together so they were still sharing the same air for as long as possible.

“How long are you here for?” Billy whispered, like he was afraid if he spoke too loudly, he would shatter the moment like spun glass.

“Just until tomorrow. The kids and I are going to California for the summer.” Saying it out loud, in front of Billy, made it feel like a dirty little secret. Billy knew why Steve was going there of all places if they way one side of his mouth kicked up. Steve had missed that smirk. He’d missed a lot of things if her were being honest.

“Maybe you can swing back through on your way back.”

The hopeful note Steve heard made him feel bold, reckless. “You should come with us.”

“What?”

“To California. You should come with us. I got an RV so there’s plenty of room. We could take turns driving. Grace and Robbie are cool kids, I swear. I’m realizing now that I said that that it’s kind of weird. Forget it—” His nervous rambling was cut off by Billy’s lips.

“Shut up, pretty boy. I’ve been wanting to go to California with you my whole life.” And, oh. Well, Steve was done for. His hands curled into the fabric of Billy’s shirt, holding on for dear life, scared if he let go Billy would disappear. “Besides, I should probably get to know your rugrats before I ask their dad to marry me.”

Steve's eye went comically wide and his heart stopped and that hole in his chest felt like Billy had slapped a patch over it. He wheezed. “Huh?”

“You think I’m letting you go again, Harrington?”

That was fine with Steve.

#harringrove #second chance romance #DILF Steve Harrington #fan fiction #no beta we die like Barb #rip #canon divergence #no upside down au

[cherrychilli]

MDNI, NSFW, AFAB reader, Dilf! Steve x babysitter reader, age gap (reader is in her early 20's and Steve is in his early 40's), P in V sex

Needed a break from writing my next Dilf! Steve drabble to write this mini Dilf! Steve drabble instead.

When the kids asked if they could spend the afternoon swimming in their pool the next time you babysat you made sure to come prepared. A bikini, you decided, would be too suspect so you used some of your earnings to buy yourself a new one piece, cherry red and bound to draw their father's attention. You stretch out on a sun lounger as the kids splash around noisily, completely oblivious to anything happening outside the pool. Peeking up from the magazine you're pretending to be invested in, your eyes linger on the balcony overlooking the pool, waiting for Steve to make an appearance now that he's back home from work. When he shows up you see he's ditched the tie and jacket, still dressed in his work pants and white button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Who's teasing who here, exactly? you wonder briefly, taking in how good he looks.

You pretend not to notice him as he looks over from the kids to you in your new suit, your bare legs and thighs on display, all smooth and glistening with lotion as you idly rub them together. With the sun beating down you have the perfect excuse to move on to your next ploy. Setting the magazine aside to reach into the cooler next to you, rustling around until you pull out a frosty strawberry popsicle. You know he's still watching you. You can feel his heated gaze trained on you as you unwrap the treat and run your tongue over the sugary ice. You begin sucking on it slowly, taking your time and staining your tongue red when you lap at the juices dripping on to your fingers.

You lick the mess clean when there's nothing left but the little wooden stick and when you're done, you make your way to the pool, hips swaying with each step. You dip into the water and wade leisurely while the kids tire themselves out, patiently counting down the minutes until the man peering at you finally cracks. It doesn't take Steve much longer to appear downstairs, standing at the entryway with his hands on his hips. "Alright, get inside, get changed and get started on your homework", he calls out to the kids, brushing off their protests and grumbling with a firm look that told them there would be no negotiating. "The grown ups need to have a little talk", he adds, eyes landing on you in a quiet warning. You exit the pool once the kids trudge inside and race to their rooms, readjusting your suit to hike it up your hips and let more of your ass show through the cuts. "Is there a problem, Mr. Harrington?", you blink up at him sweetly, knowing it would work him up even more. He looks conflicted. Like he's restraining himself, scanning your wet body, following the droplets trailing between your cleavage, eyeing the suit clinging to you like a second skin.

"Pool house. Now", he lets out in a low growl.

Your back is to the wall as soon as you're inside and the door's shut. Steve corners you there, one of his palms planted on the wall by your head and the other sliding down your waist. "Little tight on you, don't you think?" he observed. It was. You'd purposely gone a size down to make sure it hugged you perfectly. "You think so? I hadn't noticed", you countered playfully, content on playing dumb a little longer.

He sighs, "last night wasn't enough? need more already?", you shy away from his gaze at the mention of that, focusing on his belt which you wanted to undo instead. Maybe you were being a little greedy but you couldn't help it. The sneaking around was exhilarating and the sex was nothing short of addictive. "First you snuck into my shower last night and begged me to fuck you before I took you home", he reminded as your cheeks warmed. "Then I come back home after a long day at work, hoping to relax and this is how I find you", slipping a finger under your suit above your hip and pulling the damp material until it snaps back against your skin.

"And that bit with the popsicle? not very subtle was it, honey?"

A shiver runs through you, full of anticipation because you know he's not really annoyed. He's not anywhere near fed up because you know this is his way of trying to keep it together. Trying to subdue how badly he wants to fuck you stupid all the time without having to worry about people finding out. "It's hot out today... I was only trying to cool down", you cover meekly.

He scoffs, "bad liar too, huh?"

You pout, feigning a wounded look.

"Well you've got my attention now", he lets up, pulling the strip of material between your legs aside to expose your pussy and swipe his fingers through your slick folds.

"Tell me what you want"

You give in instantly, uncaring of how desperate it might seem because right now, that's exactly how you feel.

"Need you to fuck me, Steve", you clutch at the front of his shirt, tugging him down until his lips are ghosting over yours. The hand at your waist slips down to squeeze your ass, his stubble scratching lightly against your chin as he licks over your bottom lip, still sweet with strawberry.

"We don't have much time" he circles your clit, watching you closely as you mewl and squirm under him.

"Gonna have to be quick".

You knew what that meant. With Steve you learned that 'quick' really meant hard.

"Turn around" he commanded and you pressed yourself against the wall, arching your back and popping your ass out for him as he undid his belt. He rubs his bare cock over your ass a few times, the cherry red swim suit still wet and soft enough for him to glide it over with ease.

You gasp when you feel him peel your swimsuit aside and prod his tip at your waiting entrance, one hand on your hip and the other coming up to wrap around your mouth. "Can't make any noise, ok sweetheart?" He pushes in as you let out a muffled whine, feeling yourself stretch around his fat cock. "Fuck, so tight", he hisses against your ear. "Always so fucking tight..." he repeats, rocking into you quicker, working up to an unforgiving pace.

#steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #dilf! steve #dilf steve #dilf! steve harrington #dilf steve harrington

[steddiehands86]

Since it’s getting close to the New Year, I wanted to shared secret Santa fic that I did for my friend Becks. I hope your holidays were happy and you all have an incredible New Year!

#stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steve x eddie #found family #OC female character #DILF Steve Harrington #hoh steve harrington #platonic hell cheer #holidays #slight angst #fluff #bisexual steve harrington #gay eddie munson #gay Chrissy Cunningham #they’re gay your honor #all gay all the time #there’s also a cat #touch starved steve harrington #praise #boyfriend as a Christmas present #signing to communicate #slight hint of somnophilia #blink and you’ll miss it #first times together #first bj #breakfast of champions

[oneforthemunny]

older!eddie calls you ‘bunny’. 18+.

what seems to be an affectionate, sweet, cutesy little nickname actually came from a rather filthy night the two of you had.

you’d been bouncing on his cock for what felt like hours, climbed on top and riding him, hips swirling, slamming against his hairy thighs. your fingers raked over his soft tummy, coated with a smattering of hair that went to his base, coarse hair providing friction for you to grind your clit into.

“god, I love it when you bounce on my cock like this, sweetheart.” eddie grunted, calloused hands gripping your hips, lazily thrusting up into you. “you just bounce and bounce and bounce.” he grinned, hearing your little whines and mewls, face pinched in pleasure.

“you’re just like a little rabbit, aren’t ya? hoppin’ all over my dick?” eddie purred. you clamped around him, hips lifting and dropping deeper, harder. “fuck- you’re just my little bunny, aren’t ya?”

you nodded, whimpers tumbling out of your mouth as he thrusted into you, meeting your hips. “say it for me, baby.” eddie rasped, cigarette stained lungs from years of smoking making his voice huskier, sexier. “say you’re my little, bunny.”

“I-I’m- oh, fuck- I’m your little bunny.” you whimpered, nails digging in harder, grinding your hips in slow circles.

eddie chuckled, fingers reaching around to rub your clit, sending shockwaves up your spine, deep, pornographic moans ripping out of your throat.  he liked you like this. so fucked out and desperate you’d do anything he said, say anything he wanted.

“again.” eddie said, fingers pressing into your clit, tight circles rubbing against your sensitive button.

the coil in your stomach was threatening to snap, so close you were practically seeing stars already. eddie knew it. he thrusted up into you, fingers rubbing you as you gasped, head leaning back tipping towards the ceiling.

“i’m your bunny, i’m your little bunny, eddie. oh my fuck-“ chest heaving, you fell forward, head spinning and resting in the crook of his inked neck.

later, eddie’s limbs were tangled with yours, sheets sprawled over the two of you. he had a cigarette lit between his lips, blowing the smoke away from you while you cling to his chest. you were always clingy after sex, pliant and needy; he loved it.

“you fallin’ asleep on me, bunny?” eddie grumbled, grinning down at you as your eyelids fluttered.

you snorted. “that nicknames sticking?” you asked, cheeky smile hidden in his chest.

eddie grinned, bumming the cigarette and turning, kissing you deep. soft pillowy lips catching yours, the faint taste of nicotine on his tongue. his beard ticked your top lip, nose rubbing against yours. you scrunched yours up, giggling as he grinned at you.

“g’night, my little bunny.”

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #older!dilf!eddie munson #older!dilf!eddie #older!eddie munson x reader #older!eddie munson #older!eddie #dilf!eddie munson x reader #dilf!eddie munson #older!Eddie munson x bunny #steve harrington smut #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie x reader #funsonmunson #eddie munson au

[livwritesstuff]

Eddie has a serious problem.

A quagmire, perhaps, and it’s a real catch-22 of a situation too.

The problem really stems from how his and Steve’s third baby Hazel was born a few weeks earlier. 

The baby isn’t the problem, obviously.

It’s just…it is a truth universally acknowledged or whatever that men holding tiny little babies is hot as all hell even as a baseline. Factor in that the man in question is Steve Harrington, and then factor in that Hazel is their third baby so any nervousness has been completely eclipsed by an easy kind of confidence, and what you end up with is a level of hotness that really shouldn’t be allowed.

Also – Eddie forgot to mention, ever since Steve hit forty, he’s had the smallest hint of grey growing right at his temples and that isn’t helping things at all.

Eddie could eat him, honestly.

He really can’t believe the audacity of this guy for…just existing, really. Eddie can admit that all Steve is really guilty of is holding his infant daughter, but dear god what a crime that is.

Like, right now Steve is holding the baby against his chest with just one arm (and, seriously, the one arm thing is goddamn killing him, because it flexes his bicep in just the right way and Eddie would bite a chunk out of it if he could), the other midway through chucking a throw pillow at their oldest daughter for being a total monster about…well, Eddie would probably know what particular flavor of hell Moe is raising at the moment if he could take his eyes off of Steve for even a second.

But he can’t, so here they are.

Eddie also might be drifting off a little bit, and therein lies the catch-22 of it all –

It’s true that Steve is by far the hottest he’s ever been, but Eddie’s so tired that he couldn’t do anything about it even if he wanted to.

Actually – he’ll rephrase.

If he wasn’t so fucking tired, he’d be doing something about it. 

Immediately.

And, like, he has no fucking shame at all about this. Decorum and discretion, maybe, but shame? None whatsoever. 

Why should he?

It’s clearly the universe’s way of repaying him for all the shit it put him through as a teenager. Why the hell else would he not only be married to Steve, but also watching him fulfill his lifelong wish of becoming a dad three times over and aging like the finest of fine wines while he’s doing it. Eddie’s never even been a wine kind of guy, but when it’s Steve…obviously all bets are off.

Except, he's not being repaid in full, because there's the downside of having a newborn again – newborn babies don’t sleep. Well – she sleeps, but not when it’s convenient for Eddie and certainly not at the same time as his and Steve’s other two daughters. Plus, she’s proving herself to prefer contact naps over anything else, which Steve obviously loves, and…yeah, there’s a good few reasons why that shit doesn’t help Eddie’s situation at all.

Regardless, he hasn’t managed to sleep more than four straight hours at any point over the last three weeks, so any time he does have a child-free second to spare, that’s what he’s doing.

Steve notices him looking, because of course he does.

“What?” he asks, his voice low and quiet and a little tired and so so sexy.

“Oh, the things I’m doing to you in my head, Stevie-boy,” Eddie replies, (even though he knows he’ll be crashing the second his head hits the pillow – whenever the hell that ends up being).

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says even as he shifts Hazel so she’s cradled in the curve of his arm (because he’s a goddamn bastard and he knows exactly what he’s doing), “Put your money where your mouth is, babe.”

#~650 words of eddie thirsting after steve bc what else is new #subtle dilf steve bc i couldn't help myself #<- new tag let's party #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie dads

[infinite-orangepeel]

oop i think he heard himself being called out, nobody move…

#i’m not naming names but… #rhymes with beve barrington #no other bisexual dilf pathetic men are doing it quite like steve #steve harrington #steve harrington headcanon #incorrect steve harrington #incorrect steve harrington quotes #steddie #joe keery #fruity four #stranger things #steve stranger things #bisexual steve harrington #gay steve harrington #steve harrington is a mother #babysitter steve #steve the babysitter #stranger things incorrect quotes #steddie incorrect quotes

[prettybabyyyy]

He pulls the lips of your pussy apart so he can lick his own cum out of your dripping hole. He spends what feels like hours down there thoroughly cleaning you up and taking advantage of the opportunity to get another taste of your wetness. When he softly moans against your pussy, it causes you to buck your hips into his face, grinding your cunt against his mouth.

He knows just what you need so he pushes his face into you until he’s practically inhaling and devouring both of your fluids. You never thought you’d get turned on from your boyfriend eating his cum out of you, but as his tongue unexpectedly prods your entrance and brushes past your g spot, your third orgasm of the night starts fast approaching and you cum with a scream of his name that takes all the air out of your lungs.

“Can’t let any go to waste” he grins, looking up at you after taking his mouth off your pussy, chin covered in the deliciously salty mixture of his cum and yours. You pull him in for a kiss, smushing your lips together so you can really taste both of your releases.

#unnamed #king!steve x reader smut #rafe cameron #anakin skywalker smut #babys thoughts 💭 #rafe cameron smut #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn smut #wolfstar x reader smut #steve harrington x reader smut #rafe x reader fluff #rafe smut #rafe x reader smut #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #dilf! anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x fem! reader #anakin x innocent!reader #dom! anakin skywalker #steve harrington x you #steve x reader #this is kinda Steve coded #steve coded #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington oneshot

[ssweetleaf]

cherry pie.

pairing— dilf!steve harrington x fem babysitter!reader

w/c— 4.5k

♡ summary— turns out your little crush on mr harrington isn’t so one-sided after all, and after many unsuccessful dates, he starts to realise that no one is as good to him as you are.

♡ includes— SMUT 18+, age gap (unspecified, but reader is early 20s, steve is early 40s), heavy on the daddy kink i’m sorry, hung!steve, oral (m receiving), praise, nipple play?, breeding kink, smut goes 0-100 real quick sorry, unprotected p in v (wear protection in real life please), steve’s hairy chest makes an appearance bc i’m feral for it, terrible TERRIBLE ending bc it’s me and you should expect it by now!!!

a/n— pleasepleaseplease let me know what you think!!

˖ ࣪⭑

You felt pathetic.

Sat on the couch, aimlessly staring at some black and white re-runs on the television while you waited for him. Mr Harrington— clad in his formal attire, he had mentioned before he left while fumbling to put on his watch that he had a date, one that he was already extremely late for— and shit, you couldn’t help the way your chest ached with jealousy, a lump forming in the back of your throat while you tried your best to keep up your sweetest smile.

“Help yourself to anything, honey- what’s mine is yours, you know that.” he spoke, and you held out his coat for him, helping him slip it up his arms and over those broad fucking shoulders, mulling over his choice of words and that stupid pet name.

Whats mine is yours. What’s mine is yours. What’s mine is yours.

“Thanks hon, I’ll be back a little late tonight- kids need to be in bed by 9 at the latest and remember to call me if you need anything.” You nodded, muttering a small okay, before he pressed a little kiss to your forehead, “alright, see you later.”

So hours later, with both kid’s tucked up into bed all tuckered out, you thought about him— the way he looked, so handsome in his shirt and tie, expensive cologne pressed into his wrists and behind his ears, filling your senses completely when he leaned to press his usual friendly kiss, one that never failed to have your knees buckling underneath you.

But that was all it was. Friendly. You were just the babysitter, too young for him, too inexperienced for him, and your face soured when you thought about what his date might look like. Pretty dress and manicured nails wrapping around the glass that held her too-expensive wine, fluttering her lashes and running her leg against his underneath the table— she was probably a lot closer to his age too.

You sighed, pout prominent on your lips, trying to snap yourself out of whatever you had going on, falling for an older man all while you babysat his kids.

Yeah, so pathetic.

12:3am— the clock ticked away upon the mantle piece, going by so slowly you had started to feel your eyes become heavy, though you were soon snapped out of your little stupor at the sound of the front door closing, footsteps clicking along the hall and keys being thrown on the counter.

You rushed to get up, inwardly scolding yourself for seeming so eager, before making your way out to greet him.

“Hey, honey-” his usual smile wasn’t there, instead a frown etched at the corners of his lips, brows furrowed, the lines on his forehead deepening. “Everything go okay?”

You nodded, but quickly followed up with an answer at the quirk of his brow— he liked when you used your words.

“It went great- I think I really tired them out,” you smiled, pulling at the collar of his coat to take it off him, watching him fix himself some whiskey, the crystal tumbler clacking against the rings on his fingers all while he settled himself on the leather armchair.

You frowned at his lack of conversation— he was usually so chatty, cooing over you for being so sweet to take care of his kids for him, but there he was, silent and mulling over god knows what.

“Mr Harrington?” You inched closer, toeing at the carpet and fiddling with your fingers, not entirely sure how to approach him. “Is everything alright?”

His eyelids fluttered shut, huffing a breath through his nose and you took the time to take a good look at him. His shoulders tense, legs spread wide and the fist that held the whiskey was paling from his constant squeezes.

“I’m fine, doll, really-” he sighed, unoccupied hand scratching along the stubble that littered his pretty jaw. “S’just- m’so tired of these dates.”

Your lips jutted down in a frown, much similar to his, anything that masked the smile that wanted to form— you know it was terrible, but knowing his date went bad, it made a little bit of hope flutter around in the pit of your stomach.

So you sank to your knees, reaching for the laces to his polished shoes, pulling at the string to the bow to loosen it completely.

“Did you wanna talk about it?” You asked, pulling at the heel and putting it to the side to work on the other.

You saw him stutter, eyes glazing over a little bit at the way you knelt in front of him, all doe-eyed and doting on him, pretty lashes fluttering up at him whether you knew it or not.

“I-” he started, swallowing hard when your hands rested against his thighs, both shoes untied and discarded somewhere next to you. “They’re just- none of them are right for me.”

Your fingers kneaded at his tense thighs, trailing back and forth against the fabric of his pressed slacks.

“Shit—” he cupped your face in his big palm, stroking at the pudge of your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “No one is as good to me as you are, honey.”

You beamed up at his cooing, letting a giggle slip from your throat, giddy and inebriated from his little touches.

“I can make you feel good, too, Mr Harrington-” you were bashful when you said it, skin flushed and gaze flitting to the arm of his chair, fingertips still smoothing over the expanse of his thighs. “Let me make you feel good- please.”

Steve groaned, chest rumbling and he pushed his head back— you watched his adam’s apple bob while he swallowed, his neck on display and you pushed your thighs together when you thought about how pretty it would look covered in your lipstick stains.

“Honey— we can’t-” he stumbled over his words, gazing down at you with such a fondness in his eyes and there was something else, too, swirling around in his vision, all dark and honeyed, glistening in the low light of the lamps. “I’m too old for you— it isn’t right.”

“But, daddy—” you whined, his cock throbbed once you said it, rutting up from beneath his slacks and your fingers itched to press against the bulge there. “you said it yourself, no one is as good to you as I am.”

He felt like a teenager again, close to blowing his load already from the way you said that name. Your name for him and him only.

Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy.

It swirled around in his thoughts over and over, round and round, and he had to press a palm against his cock to ease the throbbing just a little, and he didn’t miss the way your eyes widened, flitting towards his hand.

“Christ, honey— didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth on you.” He suckled his bottom lip between his teeth, gazing down at you, all warm and gooey, melting your insides into mush, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach and throat. “You really want an old man like me?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, pout prominent on your puffy lips.

“You’re not old,” he chuckled at that, “want you so bad- want you to be my daddy.”

˖ ࣪⭑

It didn’t take long for you to get his pants off, he even helped you unbuckle his belt, lifting his hips up so you could bring them down to his thighs— along with his boxers of course, the sight that sprung from the material leaving you dumb and gawking.

He was huge, both in length and thickness. The rumours really were true, Steve Harrington was absolutely well-endowed, the tip a pretty pink, beaded with pre-cum that just started to trickle along his shaft and into the ridges that ran along the length.

Steve chuckled at your wide eyes, knuckles smoothing against your cheek and chin, eyeing at your parted lips and his cock twitched again when he thought about pressing his thumb between them.

“You’re so big.” You managed to choke out, fingers tentatively wrapping around his base— thumb and fingers barely meeting in the middle from the sheer thickness of it.

You squeezed, hard, watching the way his tummy muscles clenched and his tip leaked.

“I know, sweet girl, but you’re gonna take it so well—” he hissed through clenched teeth at the way your fingers felt, “promise.”

You nodded up at him, already cock-drunk and dumb from his coos, pouting prettily while you felt him up, smearing his pearly pre-cum around, lubing him up real good before you got to work.

“Fuckin’ Christ—” he moaned, your puffy lips wrapped snugly around him after pressing a spongy kiss to his tip, suckling him slightly and lathering your tongue against the thick vein that ran upwards, before pulling off with a lewd pop.

The corners of your lips curled, fluttering your lashes and running your tongue from base to tip, kissing up his shaft and pressing the imprint of your lipstick into his flushed skin.

“Doesn’t that feel good, daddy?” You took him down your throat before he could answer, already touching the back and it wasn’t even all of him, earning a groan that rumbled the span of his chest.

“Y-yeah, honey, feels so good—” he cradled your head, fingers tangling in the strands of your hair, “such a daddy’s girl, hm?”

You hummed around his cock in response, thighs squeezing impossibly close from how turned on you were, arousal practically dripping through your underwear and slicking up the fat of your thighs.

“Yeah you are—” he grinned, pushing you down further, choking you entirely and causing you to gag around his hefty length. “Atta girl.”

It was messy, spit trickling down your chin, pooling along your tits and ruining your makeup— your mascara running down your cheeks in long, black lines and clumping up your sticky lashes.

You were crying, too— tears slipping over your brimming waterline, eyes all glassy and cute, swirly little sparkles floating around your irises whenever you looked up at him.

He looked so pretty, skin glistening with perspiration, a few buttons on his shirt undone and showing off the expanse of his handsome chest, the sight of the course dark hair had you drooling on his cock even more.

“So good to me,” he cooed, “all mine.”

You felt your eyes rolling back, clit pulsing furiously at the idea of being his and his only— you just wanted to be filled by him and bounce on his cock like a little bunny, let him fuck you nice and deep so you’d feel him for days.

“Say it, honey—” he pulled at your hair, cock falling from your lips, “say you’re mine.”

“M’all yours, daddy.” You preened, clutching at his thighs, leaving crescent moons in your wake, “only want you.”

“Fuck— come ‘ere,” he helped you stand up, lips curling upwards slightly when you stumbled on your feet, patting at his lap. “On my lap, there we go.”

You settled yourself, knees digging into the sides of the chair either side of him, hands already drawn to his chest and your palms smoothed over it, tugging at the hair there and thumbs grazing slightly over his nipples.

Steve’s big arms enveloped you, wrapping you up in a sort of hug, bringing your cheek down to smoosh against his chest, letting you nuzzle into him.

It was a strange sort of calm— a few minutes wrapped up, somewhat sated though still needy and pining for each other’s affection. It was nice.

You realised it was nice to feel like you were his.

“What do you need, honey?” He muttered, chin pressed against your head, hands trailing along your back and sometimes slipping to the plush of your ass.

“Wanna be yours,” your whine was muffled by the press of his fuzzy chest, “wanna make you feel good— all the time.”

His cock throbbed at the way you spoke, so crude and sweet, honeyed words travelling straight between his legs and causing him to drip.

He was in too deep and it was not good.

“Come on then, doll-” he cooed, smacking a kiss to your flushed cheek and patting at your ass to get your attention. “Show daddy.”

You nodded, fumbling with the buttons on your blouse, huffing out a breath of frustration before letting him take over, watching with bated breaths as is hands pushed your shirt to the floor, smoothing his palms along your tits and kneading at the covered mounds.

“So pretty, baby,” he pulled at the cups of your bra, letting the weight of your breasts spill over the underwire and the cute little bow that sat in between, showing off your nipples and the way they hardened completely from under his gaze. “Can’t believe you’ve been hidin’ these pretty girls from me.”

Both of Steve’s thumbs grazed over your nipples, bringing his forefingers to squeeze and pull at them, tugging them just to make you mewl and feel the wet spot underneath your skirt grow even larger. And you were putty in his hands, melting into his touch, inebriated from the way he spoke to you, touched you, looked at you.

God, he was handsome.

“Daddy—” you whined, clutching at his wrists and grinding against his cock.

“What is it, honey?” His face was so close to yours, eyes fixated on your pretty tits and he made a quick mental note to pay more attention to them later on.

“Wan’ you to fuck me.” So abrupt, pouting over-exaggerated and lashes fluttering— your pussy way too slick and aroused to have anything other than his cock inside, stretching you out and filling you so lovely.

“Such a greedy thing already-” he pulled you in closer, “barely sucked my cock and you’re just so needy, honey.”

“Can’t help it,” you leaned forward, nose against his, tracing the tip over his cheek and along the edge of his gold-rimmed glasses. “So handsome.”

Steve’s head was in a tizzy, twirling around all dumbified at how pliant you were, how sweet and doting— small praises like that were so big for him, making that blotchy raspberry blush creep and wrap around his neck, fluttering down his chest and even speckling the tips of his ears (the colour much akin to the rouge tip of his cock).

“Gimme a kiss, sweet girl.” Voice so smooth despite the stern undertone, gliding from his teeth to the tip of his tongue and bringing you even closer with a hand cupped around the nape of your neck, fiddling with the little, sensitive hairs that adorned the space.

You obeyed of course, completely eager if anything, practically bouncing at the chance to press your mouth to his. You had been waiting for it, so had he, the soft, spongy kisses— one, two, three, in a quick peckpeckpeck, before it turned deeper, mouths locking, feeling yourself sigh and relax against the firmness of his chest, allowing his to work you open as much as he desired.

The crude, slippery feeling of your tongues finally clashing had you reeling— licking into each other’s mouths and suckling on bottom lips, breath hitching in your throat and you resulted to pressing your palms against his cheeks as a way to ground you before you started floating away from his inebriating kiss.

“Want-” kiss. “Want me to take care of you—” kiss. “Don’t you, honey?”

Oh yes. God you wanted it so bad, you had ever since you laid eyes on him the first time you had met him— nervous and picking at your cuticles, standing shy as he opened his front door with that smile of his, full of charm and warmth— a little cocky at your shyness, though still stuck out a hand for you to shake. You distinctly remembered getting a little light-headed at the mere feeling of his big hand enveloping yours.

He chuckled when you nodded, eyes all dizzy and hooded and he sucked your tongue between his kiss-bitten lips.

“Pretty cunt is fuckin’ droolin’ f’me, baby,” he cupped at the heat between your thighs, your skirt bunched up around the fat of your waist and he thumbed at the pearl of your clit over the sopping fabric that covered you. “Does she want daddy’s cock? Bet she does, huh?”

Your eyes were rolling again, and you were surprised any part of you still functioned. You felt so dumb, so cock-drunk, and you wondered how on earth you would act with his fat cock stuffed deep inside you, jamming at your insides and fucking you until you couldn’t think, just feel.

“Please.” It was a simple utterance, barely there, fluttering your lashes while you said it to sway him, to quicken the pace and have him fill you, though the tears that slipped weren’t for show, brimming down your cheeks constantly from how overwhelmed you were feeling.

“Please, what? What d’you want?”

You pouted at him, nosing at his cheek, not budging until he brought a palm down against your ass, spanking it sharply and swiftly, knocking the air from your already weakened lungs.

“Come on, don’t get shy on me now,” he tugged at the waistband of your panties, pulling upwards until the crotch of them slipped between your folds, snug against your clit and making you mewl. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it t’you.”

“W-want you to fill me up— wan’ your cock inside me, please-”

“Atta girl, wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You watched with widened eyes as he gripped at the base of his cock, and still, every time you stared at it, the size of him left you a little breathless, wondering whether he would even fit.

He tugged your underwear to the side, the pink cotton basically see-through and glistening, and he let out a breathy moan at his first glance at your bare pussy. So pretty, so ready for him— wet and slick, clit all engorged and peaking from the hood, begging for some stimulation and you made a similar sound when he tapped his tip against it, pushing it downwards against your hole, collecting your sweet arousal before repeating the action, over and over and over again.

“Don’t get all pouty, gotta make sure you’re ready f’me, honey.”

You wanted to scream at him, holler at the top of your lungs that you were ready— so fucking ready, but you couldn’t, not when his kids were upstairs asleep— you couldn’t afford for them to wake up, you didn’t want the attention to end.

And that was what it come to— selfishly, you wanted all the attention he had to give.

He looked at you, pressed a kiss to your forehead, the glasses that sat upon his bridge slightly askew and you leaned to fix them.

“You think you can take it, baby, or did you want my mouth for a bit?”

A good offer, but you shook your head still, you’d have that later if he was willing, and the mere idea of having him feast upon your pussy had you dripping on the velvety skin of his cock even more than before.

Steve made a humming noise in the back of his throat, before pulling at your thighs, tugging you closer to his chest and having you hover over the length of his cock, just waiting as patient as you could for him to sit you down onto him.

“Be a good girl now— gotta relax f’me.” His hand on your hip helped you sink, the other still wrapped around the base, feeding it slowly into your greedy pussy, watching with a heaving chest at the way your cunt sucked him in, but he could feel the stretch of your walls around him.

“Waitwaitwait—” you gasped out a breath you had been holding, “just need a minute.”

You felt so full, stretched completely, a little less than half of his cock sat inside you and it was still bigger than any you had taken before.

He coddled you, shushing you and pushing a hand up to smooth over your hair.

“Take your time, honey—” he hummed, smacking a wet kiss to the corner of your mouth, “I know it’s a lot to take.”

“You’re huge.” He chuckled at that, though he couldn’t fight the little hitch in his breath when your walls clenched around him, trying hard to adjust.

“I know, I know, but you’re already takin’ it so well.”

The praise had you drip further, the see-through lines of arousal slipping over the rivets on his cock, creating an obscene squelching sound when you lowered yourself a little further.

Just over half now, splitting you open, practically in your guts, you thought at least, and you were sure if you pressed hard enough on the plush of your stomach you would probably feel him there.

“There you go-” he was still cooing at you and you gave him your biggest heart eyes, pout permanently etched onto your lips, and he hoped it wasn’t going anywhere soon. “shit, y’don’t even need any help, takin’ it like a fucking’ champ.”

Almost there, almost all of him was nestled snug inside your cunt, so in a swift movement, you sunk down entirely, a rather less-than-quiet moan simmering from your lips and if it was just the two of you in the house, he would’ve basked in your loudness and pretty whines, but it wasn’t— and the two of you really needed to be quiet.

He pressed a palm over your mouth to stifle your sounds, your lips kissing the divots on the front of his hand, so warm and large, big enough it covered your whole chin and your lashes fluttered at the feeling.

And you started to move, still worked up, and a little sore, but were you really to blame? His cock was massive, stretching and filling places where you didn’t know anyone could reach, and once you started easing yourself up, right to the tip, you sank back down again, a little harsher than the first, whining into his callused skin whilst your eyes rolled back.

With each slow downward thrust of your hips, you could feel the course, dark thatch of hair that trailed from his stomach all the way down to the base of his cock. It was tickling against your clit, much akin to the hair that littered the thickness of those strong thighs of his, rubbing against your ass so deliciously. And his balls, shit— so big, so fucking heavy, full of his cum, the Harrington prodigy stored up inside of them and you throbbed and twitched at the thought of carrying his babies.

Fuck, you were totally down bad.

“What’re you thinkin’ about, honey?” It was almost as if he knew, a smirk heavy and crooked on his lips, his flashy Rolex glistening upon his wrist in the dim light of the lamp while he guided you up and down, up and down, nice and steady, but so, so deep.

You shied away, gaze flitting to the ceiling, and you would’ve stayed like that, waiting for him to drop it, until his palm— once again— came down on your ass in a smack, much heavier than before, much more painful than before, but the sting of it bloomed in your core and had more blood rushing to your clit.

“Come on— when I ask you somethin’ I expect an answer.” He was stern and sharp, though the smirk never left, plucking at the corner of his mouth and mocking you so delectably.

“M’sorry, daddy—” you crooned, hands sliding from his shoulders to the thick muscle of his biceps, the designer fabric of his shirt smooth under your palms. “Was thinking about your cum—”

Your whine was breathy, but you made sure to quiet down, his hips now moving in time with yours, knowing you could take him fully now, though just barely.

“Yeah, you thinkin’ about getting filled? Having all of this cum inside your pretty tummy, huh?” You were glad he had said it for you, far too embarrassed, and way too fucked out to string that sentence together, and the words, when they came from his mouth, sounded much better, you thought. “Want my babies, don’t you, hon?”

You were babbling nonsensical nothings, a sweet concoction of ‘oh yes daddydaddy, please’ fluttering from your puffy lips— nodding at him and clutching at him, his arms, his chest, anywhere you could find, until you settled on his hands, resting your own over his, while they pressed into your hips, guiding you faster now.

It had taken you a little while, but once you were comfortable, you had started to bounce like a little bunny in season, fucking down onto his thick cock, feeling the cut tip of his nudge at your g-spot, the ridges and veins that ran along the shaft so present and eager against your walls— you felt everything, so full, so sated, actually, scratch that, you weren’t sated, not until his cum was deep inside you, not a drop wasted.

“Who would’a thought you’d be bouncin’ on my cock tonight, sweetheart- shit—” sweat was shimmering on his skin, his stomach muscles clenching, not wanting to cum too soon. “So glad it’s you, sweet girl— my girl.”

You nodded, breathless.

“M’your girl, daddy. All f’you.”

Steve was close, closer once you uttered those words, sucking breaths in and bringing you closer, forehead pressed against yours, the sound of the squelchy slapslapslap filling the stuffy room.

“That’s right, that’s right— Christ, m’so close, daddy’s so fuckin’ close.”

And you were too, embarrassingly so, and you made it apparent with your whines, pressing your kisses into his skin, the pace between you growing sloppy, though somehow harder.

“Am too,” you babbled, “can we cum together?”

So sweet, so fucking sweet you were, eyes all big and wet and glistening so prettily, and he thought he would bust at merely gazing at you, but he nodded, his own irises moulding into hearts, quite similar to yours, beating out of his skull like an old Tom and Jerry cartoon.

“Yeah, honey,” he said, “yeah, we can cum together, such a good girl.”

The rope was growing taut, deep in your belly, just begging to snap any time soon, all you were waiting for was one word, one single word to have you unraveling above him—

“Cum,” that was it. “Cum f’me— shit, so good—”

Stars and sparkles all flurried your vision, clouding around Steve and highlighting the way he looked when he came, mouth agape, wanting so badly to close his eyes, but he couldn’t, not when you looked the way you did.

You were a mess, convulsing against his chest, creaming his cock, clenching and twitching around him while you milked him of his sticky cum.

Steve’s lips were on yours in an instant, tongue and lips, sloppy and wet, spit trickling down your chins at the lazy kiss, but too fucked out to care.

And for a while you stayed there, on his lap, slowly kissing while he cradled your head and muttered pretty praises into your ear, though you couldn’t shake a certain thought that swam through the haze that was your brain.

What the fuck happens now?

✰

tagging <3—

@ghostlyfleur @hornyhornyhimbos @crowssixof @lavendermunson @esquivelbianca @ratzztar @justpeachy46 @jackchampionsbbg @hazzaismyreligion @harrington-lover @spikedhe4rt @gabessock

(some blogs i wasn’t able to tag, sorry about that <33)

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #older!steve harrington x reader #dilf!steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington daddy kink #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic

[hotluncheddie]

omg I didn't realize you wanted chubby steddie asks 🙈

as much as we love the babygirlification of Steve Harrington..... I'm obsessed with boyish manly Steve who is chubby and Eddie is obsessed with him!!!! I'm thinking about your one fic with the sweaty tank top!!!!! do you have more thoughts on this??

yesssssss!!! anon yes yesssssssss!!!!!

not me being like 'yeah! sweaty task top fic nice nice' then realising i have like three different posts that have Steve in a sweaty tank top lol

thankfully @scoops-aboy86 came in clutch with a new tank top sciario <3 (and held my hand thru writing the end lmao ty pal)

but i just love an ex jock trope, i love bulk under muscle and i think big beefy hairy guys are hot - and Steve harrington deserves to be all of that, and more

and also, importantly, eddie munson deserves to have all of that too, in and around him, all the time, in the form of Steve Harrington.

-

Eddie had come to accept the wealth of things he could be into, the actual buffet of people and scenarios that could get his dick hard. He's had more than his fair share of knuckle biting orgasms over the ex chief of police Jim Hopper. Before and, maybe worse, after getting to know him.

So he knew what it was to have something of a shame wank. To enjoy a moustache or two and a paunch at a middle.

But nothing, no deep seated daddy issues or fantasy of being held down, could ever prepare him for Steve Harrington.

Post upside down, post eventual college and transition to work. Post two bed apartment with Robin, then two bed apartment with Robin and Eddie. Then actual full blow house with Eddie, and more often than not weekend guest Robin. Dating Steve for as long as has was one thing, loving Steve with everything he had was another, and being loved by Steve was something he still had nights of panic about - silent tears as fear and self doubt gripped his throat, nightmares about it all being an elaborate prank that sneak their way in even with Steves arms wrapped tight around his middle.

but Eddie had him.

Was allowed to love him, and worship Steve for all that he was worth. It was wonderful. Eddie knew that.

But it had its challenges. Nothing past Eddie could've done would help current Eddie for what he was in for.

Like how Steve had bulked up over the years, settled and filled out in a way that made those visions of Hopper, and guys from bars he really shouldn't have been at, all come surging back.

Steve was thick, and strong and still so achingly beautiful. Boyish in his actions at times but also protective and capable in a way that made Eddie swoon. Honest to god. Made him feel like a main character in one of those bodice ripper books he had seen (taken out and read) at the library.

And then Steve made it worse.

So so so much worse.

Because Steve went and got a tattoo.

Well, another tattoo. He added roses to go along with the robin and branch on his arm, adding to its greenery with red petals and thorns that Eddie knew were secretly for him. He’d said, offhandedly, that they were his favourite and he knows, because he knows Steve, that thats something he'd listen to and remember.

He’s a die hard romantic.

And now Eddie is going to die, hard.

Soon, if Steve doesn't put a proper fucking shirt on.

Steves been wearing his stupid, old, cropped, white tank top since the appointment. He's "letting the tattoo breathe", "doesn't like the feeling of the healing skin against the fabric", "wants to do it properly". "hates Eddie and wants him to die of hard dick, big-fat-ball disease."

He glares at Steve from the other end of the couch, and maybe only three of those things are something Steve's actually said, but, he thought them. All of them. Must have.

Because Steve's tank is so old it's nearly see through, the peak of his pink nipple evident and distracting. The cropped end keeps rolling up and exposing his wider bellybutton and soft sides. And, as always, with any tank top, with any tank top on Steve, hit tits are there - hairy and lovely and out.

'Steve, please.' Eddie whines, he doesn't think he can take much more.

Steve just raises his eyebrows, taking a swig of beer and not looking away from the tv. 'If I sweat too much, it'll mess with the healing.' He says.

Eddie just crosses his arms, sinks lower into the couch. ‘Can you put on a normal shirt at least? For my sanity, for that alone, please?' Not wanting to sound desperate, but he is desperate.

Steve sighs, muting the TV. 'C'mere.' He holds his arms out and Eddie crawls into his lap. Still sulking, arms still crossed. ‘Eddie, you’re the one who gave me the tattoo. I’m following your instructions.’ Steve says gently.

‘M’firing Robin for getting you to sign the info form.’ He grumbles.

Steve smiles at him, tucking some hair behind his ears. ‘You can’t fire her for doing her job baby.’

‘Maybe not’ Eddie sniffs. ‘But I’m not sharing my baby blue ink with her next time she gets one of her slutty little lady sailor pin ups booked in.’ He mumbles to himself.

Steve pulls Eddie in closer, hands on his waist as he leans in to whisper in Eddies ear. 'Aren't I being so good though? Following what you said, no strenuous activity for two days right?' His voice a little breathy, soft.

And that makes Eddie pause, makes his insides churn and his heart rate increase. 'Ye-yeah.' He rasps, eyes wide. 'So good Stevie.'

'So we have to wait until tomorrow, like you said, yeah?' Steve asks, eyes all big and sweet, lips in a little pouty.

Fuck. He's right. Eddie dug his own grave.

'Yeah.' He sighs. He can do it, for Steve.

Steve smiles sweetly at him, tapping Eddie on the ass and shifting him closer so Steve can unmute the tv and keep watching his game. 'Good boy.' Steve says, kissing Eddies temple.

…Wait. Eddie scrunches his eyebrows, half hard and confused.

But Steve just holds him closer. Eddie buries his head in Steve's neck, and whines.

#:) #eddie gets domed by pouty dilf Steve #he doesn't know how to feel about it - but he likes it #<3 #ask #hotlunch #steddie #chubby steve harrington #tattoo artist eddie munson #and robin #i think Steve is their part time receptionist and also works at the coffee shop across the street #or part time florist across the street - to really live the au tropes #hes hot

[riality-check]

DILF!Steve concert saga, featuring Eddie POV for this part! part 1, part 2

"I have to open it."

"Nope."

"Gareth. I need to open it."

"The vault is sacred," Archie says.

At the same time, Jeff chimes in, "The vault was your idea, Eddie."

Eddie thunks his head against the wall. "I know. But I need-"

"They're on the last song," Archie says, putting a hand on Eddie's shoulder. It's probably meant to be comforting, but it feels patronizing as shit.

Eddie is a good friend, though. He doesn't shrug him off.

"Once they're through, I'll unlock it," Jeff says, dangling the key slung around his neck.

"But you could do it now," Eddie protests.

Gareth sits protectively on top of the black lock box. "Absolutely not."

Eddie sighs and waits for the guitar solo onstage to end, nodding his head along to the beat.

It's what he usually does when they're backstage, but this time, it brings a smile to his face. Miss Anna was a natural yesterday for her first time headbanging, and her dad is the reason Eddie wants to break the sacred vault tradition.

He wants, no, needs to know if he got the note. If he decided to write something. If he wants to go a little further than PG flirting.

Eddie for sure wants to go further than that. God. Steve's handsome face and his big hands and his thick thighs (deliciously exposed by his shorts in the summer heat) are all wonderful incentives to skip a few steps and go straight to ramming him into a mattress.

Or, with how that shirt clung to Steve's biceps and how his shorts clung to his ass, let him ram Eddie into the mattress. He isn't picky.

(He isn't desperate, either, thank you very much, Gareth. And no, he won't admit how long it's been since he got laid.)

From the house, the audience roars, and Eddie jumps off the arm of the couch he was laying on.

Gareth sighs and gets off the lock box.

"Jeff, open it," Eddie says, staring at the vault and subconsciously making grabby hands toward it.

"Is that how we ask?"

"I could always yank the key off you."

Archie sighs and, ever the peacemaker, takes the key from Jeff and unlocks the vault. The second it's open, Eddie snatches his phone and turns it on.

Please please please let the DILF text back, he thinks to himself as he waits for this stupid metal brick to turn on and give him a resolution to this whole ridiculous situation.

Because, first, Eddie doesn't really jive with kids. Sure, they flock to him in the same way they flock to every other vaguely cool-looking person, but aside from asking if he has to draw his tattoos on every day or if his mommy is okay with him having his hair that long, they generally leave him alone.

And that's okay. Eddie easily made his peace with not having kids about ten years ago. Between his strong preference for men and the way that significantly decreases those odds and the choice to not pass on his truly abysmal family history of mental illness and addiction, it seemed obvious and a lot more selfless.

But Anna was cool as hell. Smart as hell, too, in a way that made Eddie feel like he was looking back at a time before school punished him for being bright and verbose and energetic.

Anna didn't make him want kids. Again, the whole family history thing is a real vibe killer. But she did give him enough fuel, for just an instant, to think that dating someone with a kid might not be a deal breaker anymore.

Or maybe Steve was just that hot.

He whined a lot yesterday, in the hotel, about how hot Steve was.

His phone turns on, and, front and center, is a text from an unknown number:

I guess I don’t have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we’re even on that front, I’m a teacher, and Anna’s full time job is preschool.

Eddie grins so hard he feels like his face will split in two.

"Is it him?" Jeff asks, trying to look over Eddie's shoulder.

"Of course it is," Gareth scoffs. "Look at his face."

"What did he say?" Archie asks.

Eddie takes the easier way out and lets him have the phone.

Gareth and Jeff crowd over Archie's shoulders, and Eddie watches their faces change as they read the message.

"Oh, he's bitchy," Gareth says.

"That means he's perfect," Jeff says, with a pointed look at Eddie.

Eddie shoots Archie a clear "back me up" look and gets a shrug in return because all his friends are assholes who know his type way too fucking well.

"What do I say?" he asks.

Archie tosses him the phone. "I don't know. Flirt back."

"I don't know how!"

"You ground against a guitar-"

"And kissed me onstage," Jeff continues. "But you don't know how to flirt?"

Eddie puts his head in his hands. "I didn't have enough sex in high school to know how to do this!"

"That's not an excuse when none of us did!" Gareth says.

Jeff barks out a laugh.

"Just ask if he's free tomorrow," Archie says, like the rational, wonderful friend he is. "This was the last stop of tour. It's not like you have to get anywhere else at a specific time."

"Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that," Eddie says, hyping himself up. Before he can second guess himself, he writes back.

Since it's summer, I'm assuming you both have off. Can you fit it in your busy schedule to have dinner with a humble musician tomorrow night?

"Oh, shit, did you send it?" Gareth asks, snatching his phone.

"Wait," Archie says, like the rational, horrible friend he is. "Do we know if he's single?"

"Oh, shit," Jeff whispers.

Eddie takes his phone back and refuses to look at it. He wants to shut it down. He wants to drop it. He wants to drive to nearest river and throw it there.

"Am I a homewrecker?" he asks absently.

"Only if you succeed," Jeff says.

"He might have a wife," Archie muses. "He might be straight."

"Okay, dude, enough," Gareth says. "This was supposed to be exciting! Eddie was supposed to get ass!"

"He might be ace."

"Archie, shut the fuck up."

He holds his hands up in surrender, and Jeff pats his shoulder, a little comfortingly, a lot condescendingly.

Eddie sits down on the couch. Puts his head in his hands. Breathes.

He's flirting with a married man. He's absolutely flirting with a married man. This is a new low. This is worse than the time he licked the floor of a restaurant, drunk, for five bucks. This is worse than when he greened out in the parking lot of a Chuck E. Cheese. This is worse than when he accidentally told the gas station cashier that he loved them and immediately walked into the glass door behind him.

This is. So bad.

And then his phone rings, so it'll get worse. It has to. That's how these things go.

Eddie has always been self-destructive, so, of course, he looks at the screen.

I can't swing dinner, but how's lunch? Fair warning: it might be a playground picnic if my babysitter bails.

"Holy shit, I'm not a homewrecker," Eddie says.

"I didn't think you had it in you," Jeff says.

"He's single!" Gareth cheers.

"Can I talk now?" Archie teases.

"I'm not a homewrecker!" Eddie says, and he launches off the couch to hug the nearest person, who happens to be Jeff.

They have to get out of the venue. He has to figure out the logistics of the date and how to be normal by the time he gets there and what to wear and everything else.

But, right now, Eddie is over the fucking moon that Steve is even giving him a shot. And he hopes, giddy as all hell and hanging off of Jeff's shoulders, that Steve feels even a little bit like this.

He writes back, once he's calmed down:

Lunch might just become my new favorite meal.

#ria writes #dilf and concert #d&c au #steddie #steddie ficlet #st #st ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin #rockstar eddie munson #dilf steve harrington

[emsgoodthinkin]

the band-aid to my wounds

Older!Eddie Munson x naive!Fem reader - eventual twins Steve Harrington x reader x Kurt Kunckle series| pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 … TBC

Summary: After stumbling into an old barn after being stranded by your freshly new ex boyfriend, you wake up strangely in a room..that isn't yours..

warnings: talks of cheating, abuse, angst, slight stockholm syndrome at a glance, anxiety, childhood trauma, parent problems; daddy issues, eventual smut, cursing, drinking, smoking, perviness, slight dub-con, miscommunications, blood mention

word count: idk? 1k?

June 12th, 1988 the roads were closed off.

I have no idea why im still together with this asshole, why am i so stupid? oh because id do anything for people to love and not leave me. Looking at him now..hands beating the steering wheel, veins popping through his temples..not to mention his breath. Ashton my oh so loving, narcissist, no good boyfriend. We've been together for 6 years, basically high school sweethearts. Went from flirty glaces, to lab partners, to collage students with an alcohol addiction. Mainly his addiction...he got me started on it.

Ashton basically took me in with his fatherly like protectiveness when we first got together. He was walking me to my front door after a bowling date he asked me out to my sophomore year, of course i said yes.; until the front door opened. Uh oh, dads home; Bill. The moment the door opened i watched my father tackle Ashton to the ground without so much as a reason screaming words like "get off my property, boys like you should be dead in a gutter, ill kill you"...

Lets just say that date night was a bit too eventful for my liking.

My dad always had a problem with Ashton because he went to highschool with his father. Ashtons dad was a bully back in the day, made my dads life a living hell.. took everything away from him. the girl, the looks, the job..

Dave, Ashtons father, was caught making out with Shannon, my dads ex lover but also first love. Dave knew he had the upper hand when it came to getting the things he wanted. Hell, Shannon seduced him into it. Shannon was only with my dad for the money. Got knocked up but gave him the baby and ran away to be with his dad. As you can see I am that baby now today.

I made a promise to Ashton after sneaking him to my bedroom window that same night cleaning his wounds; that it was me and him against the world. He knew about me and my parents relationship. How my step-mother only has good things to say about me in a room full of people, but how she degrades me behind closed doors. How my dads drinking problem gave him alcohol poisoning, twice' and about his anger problems. You'd think being in a household that is always loud would help you shape up to loud sounds in the future. Boy was that theory proven wrong.

anytime someone yells or raises their tone, you're immediately in fight or flight response. tense..anxious. You hate going to basketball games just for that reason. Its uncomfortable.. and he knew that, but apparently in this moment, he didn't give a fuck-

"Did you hear me??" Ashton says impatiently. "No im sorry, i cant hear when you mumble.." you reply

you also hated when people uttered things under their breath.

dad does that shit.

"Don't be smart with me y/n, ill leave you right here,right now in the middle of the fucking road

"Yeah whatever Ashton, just stop talking to me and drive" feeling the breaks pull forward and in a flash he was out of the drivers seat, and already pulling you out of the passenger-

"WHAT THE FUCK" i yell- what the fuck are you doing Ashton?”

“Shut up!” he smacks me. Your eyes widen in more shock than fear over anything. “Did you j-just hit me?” i ask with a scratched voice--

“I told you more than once not to back talk me didnt i?”

“i didn’t.. it was once and i stopped ashton”-

-“You’ve done it all goddamn night, accusing me of cheating, clinging onto me when i ran into Tommy, i told you to give me some fucking space --i interrupt him.

“YOU did cheat on me you asshole!! That bitch was fucking bragging about it in the bathroom”—

“Do you really think after what 4 years-“6 actually“ i say pissing him off further. he looks at you angrily

He sighs. “Do you really think after years of being together, i would do that to you?” he say looking down at the ground sadly; making you instatly regret your words

“..no-no of course not i just thou”-

-“You thought wrong! he snaps-I would never do that to you baby..y/n?” he says letting go of the grip on my arms, caressing my cheek-“..I know you get a little confused sometimes, its okay come here” he says pulling you into a deep hug

“..im sorry ash”-

“shh” he coos.

“I really thought—what the fuck is that?” you shove him away

“Y-you piece of shit!!” you pull around back collar piece of his shirt up to his face; showing him the peach colored lipstick stain

“Are you fucking serious Ashton?” his eyes widen and stomach drops when he sees the prominent evidence of his past events—

“B-baby look-“

“No! fuck you were done!”

He grabs me closer, “No we fucking arent- ive gave you everything! he starts shouting making you flinch

P-please stop yelling at me! you plea tears rolling down your face

“Just—here” he opens the car door “just get back in and ill explain on the way”—

“No.” you shove past him running and crying

“Y/N come back here!. its too dark—

“ i dont care leave me alone!”

“Y/n theres crazy people out here..!”

you stop in your tracks, turning back to say- “You’re the crazy person!”

he laughs. “Oh im crazy? Ill show you fuckin crazy”—he says marching over to the drivers side of the car starting it back up—mumbling ill show you a fucking crazy person babe—and he spees off

you cant believe he actually just left you.. standing here.

“ASSHOLE!” you shout regulardess if hes still there or not, turning back around to walk down the cold empty road

are you fuckig kidding me?

wow he fooled me

how didnt i see this before

did he love me?

he says he does

then why did he leave me..

fucking jerk!!

The long 7 mile walk with a head full of shitty thoughts walk you to a sun burnt orange barn.

you're exhausted. your hearts broken. your feet hurt. its too dark to keep walking

"I mean i could crash here right?" you say already walking towards the musky building

hay bells, chickens, tools. looks already owned

you dont care you just need a place to rest you head for a bit.

stinks in here. muttering to yourself, opening and shutting the barn door behind you.

perfect you say spotting an old rocking chair..and yard sale signs?

does somebody live here?

you're too exhausted to think any more tonight

this'll do. taking your jacket off to use as a prop pillow, climbing into the chair almost immediately drifting off.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

whats that smell? smells like bacon?

bacon? your eyes are still shut but you can sense a different environment around you. Fluttering your eyes open.. a clock? pictures? what?-jumping up at the sound of a shoe

"WHO ARE YOU?" your already in flight or fight mode

"Whoa whoa its okay, im the owner of the barn i found you in”.

is he lying?

"YOU'RE LYING!" you look around in a panic

"Sweetheart if i was lying, how come i specifically found you in my rocking chair, you must of been tired, i got my buddy who also runs the farm to scoop you up and bring you to our guest bedroom, couldn't just leave a woman out in the open like that.. especially at night"

your stomach knots when he calls you sweetheart.

okay maybe he harmless, just very kindly harmless?

"Here" he throws his arm out, "I'm Eddie, Eddie Munson."

- - is this interesting so far? lmk- -

reblogs appreciated:>

#older!eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #steve harrington x reader #kurt kunkle x reader #stockholm syndrome #daddy!eddie munson #daddy issues #naive reader #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie x reader #kurtsworld96 #joseph quinn #joe keery #perv!eddie munson #dilf!eddie munson #perv!steve harrington #tw abandonment

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve who was a kindergarten teacher and was oddly good at acting because he usually helped his best friend, Robin who was an actress, read scripts.

Whenever it came to story time, Steve'd apply what little acting skill he had learned from Robin to entertain his students by playing every character they requested.

Veronica, Eddie's daughter always came home gushing excitedly about how her teacher could play Legolas in perfect elven accent and manner.

Though Eddie thought his daughter must be somewhat biased, it'd be a lie to say he wasn't curious.

So when Eddie managed to have some time away from his hectic schedule, he decided to go pick up his daughter and get a glimpse of this Steve who could pull off Legolas, Aragon, and Arwen roles at the same time.

Except, Eddie didn't expect his daughter's Mr. Steve to be Steve 'The Hair' Harrington, the former king of Hawkins High.

It seemed Steve had changed a lot and not at all. Because while he wore glasses and soft sweater now, he was still as handsome as Eddie remembered with coiffed hair and a pretty face.

It was obvious why Veronica had fallen for the charm, considering Eddie could see the appeal of listening to Steve speaking in British and Elven when looking like that.

"Daddy!" Veronica's voice pulled Eddie back from his reveries. She raced toward him with a bright smile and twin pig tails that flew through the air at how eagerly she was running.

"Honey bun!" Eddie opened his arms and scooped her up swiftly, twirling her around until she was a fit of giggles before settling her securely on his arms.

Since Eddie had covered his face and his hair as best as he could, no one paid him any mind besides a few curious glances at Veronica's delighted greeting and sprinting. Not to mention the school was almost empty now so that was a plus.

When Eddie looked up, he was met with the sight of Steve standing not so far away from them with a fond smile on his face. It fitted him so much that Eddie felt his heart jump a little.

"Good bye, Mr. Steve!" Veronica waved at the other man who returned her gesture with an equal enthusiastic 'See you tomorrow, Veronica!'.

And somehow, Eddie liked the man a little bit more for that.

Since that day onward, Eddie'd go pick up his daughter whenever he got time instead of asking Chrissy for help.

He got to know Steve better in each encounter and quickly discovered that while Steve was still as good-looking as ever, he was a dorky and funny man with no traces of King Steve could be seen.

In return, Steve also learned that Eddie was the town's freak and drug dealer who had gotten away in '85, just in time to avoid the earthquake.

The grave look in Steve's eyes when he recited Hawkins' tragedy made Eddie feel uneasy, but when the somberness faded and left room for the fondness that was directed at him, Eddie once again forgot all about leaving even after innumerable time considering it.

Then one morning, when Eddie woke up with Steve in his arms, he decided that he was done running away.

‪He wanted to watch Steve play dress up with Veronica, wanted to listen to Steve’s chuckles that got mixed up with Veronica’s giggles, wanted to have Steve and Veronica welcome him home every.

‪He wanted to start something bigger with Steve. A family.‬

‪Eddie knew they weren’t quite there yet, but he would try with his best effort. ‬

‪Because he had a home in his heart, and Steve was in there.‬

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #kindergarten teacher steve #rockstar eddie #dilf eddie #ficlet #sionewrites

[cherrychilli]

MDNI, NSFW, AFAB reader, divorced Dilf! Steve, Babysitter reader, oral sex(M), cum play, age gap (Steve is in his early 40's, reader is in her early 20's)

A/N: This takes place before the events of my first Dilf! Steve drabble. I'm also working on another drabble about the first time they did the deed so look out for that!)

You scrutinize your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you fix your hair and dab on a fresh coating of scented lip balm over your lips. You'd much prefer your signature shade of lipstick and an outfit different to the t-shirt and skirt combo that you're currently dressed in but this is the best you can afford to do without raising any suspicion. You needed to be careful. You didn't want to be made the subject of the latest small town scandal and you knew people would start to ask questions if they ever saw you getting all dolled up to babysit at Steve Harrington's house.

You saunter into his study once you're ready, closing the door gently behind you and turning the key for good measure. You find him at his desk where he's been for the past few hours, looking both pensive and deflated as he poured over paperwork. You'd been sneaking glances at him all day, growing resentful of the work that held his attention. That wasn't all. Feelings of sympathy tugged at you too. It was hard to ignore when seeing the stack of thick files piled next to him and the empty coffee mug with World's Best Dad blown up in big black lettering now cold and pushed aside after several refills. He looks up from the handful of important looking papers fanned across his desk when you enter, assessing you over the rim of his reading glasses. He notices how your skirt appears shorter now than it did earlier thanks to some intentional adjusting when you readied yourself in the guest bathroom.

He knows now. Steve looked forward to your "surprise visits" but he never failed to get the formalities out of the way first.

"The kids?", he asks, expression neutral.

"Asleep. Completely wiped out after playing with the Donovan boys", you inform him, leaning over his desk to let your cleavage show. He allows his gaze to fall to your chest now that the two of you are alone, something he tried very hard (and sometimes failed) to keep from doing when others were around, Not that anyone had noticed, thankfully.

"And Martha?"

The kids were one thing but Steve's housekeeper was the one who really kept you on your toes, unbeknownst even to her. There was always the chance she might notice a lingering look or subtle touch and realize something bigger was going on right under her own nose. She'd also have more credibility if she were to tell people that there was something going on between Mr. Harrington and the pretty babysitter nearly half his age. The kids on the other hand who although were the sweetest, were much less likely to be believed. They were still in that phase where they spouted the occasional harmless yet wildly imaginative lie in the hopes of impressing friends and grownups.

"Out shopping for tonight's dinner", you assured him with a coy smile.

You walk around the corner of his desk, hips swaying as he turns his chair to face you. Martha may be gone for now but she had proved she was worth the money she was paid. She was efficient, reliable and punctual above all else, meaning you wouldn't have as much time as you would have liked to be alone together. Foregoing any kind of buildup, you drop to your knees, hands reaching to toy with Steve's belt. "Wanna suck your cock, Mr. Harrington", you announced. It was blunt, you knew and gathering from his widened eyes you were certain he thought so too.

"Please, can I?", you begged, voice sticky like honey and dripping with urgency.

You can see the traces of fatigue starting to fade from his features as he cups your cheek with a large palm, thumb brushing over your bottom lip, all soft and plush from the balm. You're already undoing his belt, popping open the button on his pants and pulling at the zip. "You've been so tense lately" you cooed. "Working so hard. All those late nights", you reminded. "I Just want to help you unwind."

You reach inside to rub him over his boxers, parting your lips at the same time to lick at his thumb. "Shit", he hisses. He'd only fucked your mouth once before - and just barely because that tryst was cut short when Martha had come back home after forgetting her purse one night. You hid behind the kitchen island when you heard the front door open, crouched down by Steve's legs with your lips all puffy and slick with spit and precum. You cowered while he pretended to have come in for a glass of water as he so explained, or more so stammered, to Martha who hadn't asked because why would she? it was his house. What was so unusual about wanting a drink of water in your own house? She might have suspected something if she didn't already think you had been sent home for the day, not knowing that you were staying over after hours when she was off the clock and the kids had been put to bed. As she politely collected her purse and left for the second time the both of you agreed, no more fooling around unless it's behind locked doors.

His length was already growing stiff as he watched you on your knees, begging to have his cock in your mouth like some naughty fantasy come to life. Maybe you were right, he thought. Maybe he had been working too hard lately. Maybe he had been sifting through files and contracts for a few hours too long and the exhaustion had numbed him momentarily because why the hell hadn't he started unzipping his pants himself the moment you got on your knees for him?

"Fuck- alright", he relented, suddenly feeling more enlivened than he had been the entire day as he helped you to pull his boxers down. Your expression turns glassy as you stare at his cock when it bobs free, saliva pooling in your mouth. He was bigger than anyone you'd ever been with before and you found that you were still getting used to it. You wrap your fingers around his impressive girth as best you can and lap at the blurt of precum weeping from his tip, catching it on your tongue and sucking it into your mouth in a filthy display. "Jesus Christ" he groans, balls feeling tight at the sight of you like this. A distant cry from the reputable young woman people thought you to be. "Tell me how you like it", you request, breath fanning over his cock as you pant softly. "I wanna make you feel good, Mr. Harrington". He curses again under his breath because how can you look so sweet and sincere when you're begging for something as indecent as having your mouth full of him.

"Okay I-uh, I like it a little messy", he admits. "Can you spit on it? 'want you to get it really wet for me, sweetheart".

You do as he says, first spitting into your palm to wrap around him again and then leaning closer to dribble some spit onto his tip and rest of his shaft to help coat him.

"Little more- Yeah, just like that...start moving your hand, baby- squeeze it a little, okay?"

You pump him just as he instructed, only speeding up when he tells you to. It's still on the slower side - a steady, rhythmic schlick that fills your ears and makes your belly burn. You don't put your mouth on him. Not yet because he hasn't given you permission. You're trying to be obedient, not knowing that he's getting off on the desperate look on your face as your eyes flick back and forth from his erection and his face. You work yourself up even more at the taste the fruity balm when you bite your lip, wishing once again that you'd been able to dress up for him just so he could ruin your pretty lipstick till his cock bears messy traces of your favorite shade. You're growing more needy as you listen to all the noises spilling out of him, deep throaty groans and half restrained moans that have you rubbing your thighs together in search of some kind of friction. You don't want to divert from the way he's guiding you but you can't hold off wanting to taste him any longer. "Mr. Harrington, please, can I suck it? I want to feel it in my mouth again", you whimper meekly.

You've got his cock in your hand and you're the one begging? He chuckles softly at that. "Go ahead, get your pretty lips on me", he finally grants.

You're on him quick, popping his fat head in your mouth and wrapping your lips around it. You suck gently at first, hand still stroking his base and when you begin to bob your head you moan around him like you've been starved for this. "That's it, baby- shit keep going", he encourages you. You grow bolder when his hand weaves into your hair and you take him in further and further until you feel him bump the back of your throat. Tears gather in your eyes then as you choke, throat clamping around him when you gag, squeezing his cock. "Fuck", he tightens his grip on your hair. "Do that again", he watches you with half lidded eyes, tears spilling down your face as you struggle to take it.

You can feel the spit and precum seeping out of the corners of your mouth and trail down your chin. It's messy, just as he asked for and he praises you again and again. "You're doing so well, baby- making me feel so good", hips bucking up lightly into your mouth. Every time you pull off for air, spit and precum web from his throbbing length to your panting lips. You lick up the underside of his cock hungrily after you catch your breath, following the gentle curve of it, feeling the veins pulse and throb when your tongue glides over the sensitive skin. When you reach his ruddy tip again, you swirl your tongue around it, eyes never leaving his.

"Want your cum", you puff out desperately, voice hoarse from having having him fuck your throat. "Please?"

You see his expression shift and you're just about to ask him if he's close when he cuts you off with a curt command. "Get up".

You worry you've done something wrong until he's flipping you around and pressing you against his desk. He hastily pushes the fanned out papers to the side, letting them flutter and strew on the floor.

"Hands on the desk", he growls. You plant them there without question, whimpering when you feel him pull at your skirt. He holds the material up with one hand, yanking your soaked panties down your thighs with the other.

"M-Mr. Harrington?" you stutter, never finishing the question but he knows what you mean to ask. Are you going to fuck me?. You want him to. Desperately. But you know there's no time. Martha would be home any minute now and you couldn't risk having her wonder where you were. There'd be no way to hide what you'd been doing if she caught you sneaking out of Steve's study, looking like this.

"Not this time, sweetheart", he answers, kicking your legs apart as he strokes his cock between your thighs. "'Gonna give you what you asked for."

You gasp when you feel it, ropes of his cum catching on your inner thighs and the gusset of your panties. You quiver in place when he pulls your panties up, pressing his hot wet release right up against you. He fixes himself behind you as you process the mess between you legs, circling your hips experimentally so you can feel it spread between your folds.

"You've got an hour left, right?", he breaths low against your ear. You nod your head when your voice fails you, feeling spent. "You're going to wear these home today", he commands, his fingers snaking under your skirt to circle your clit over your soiled panties. "Want you to think of me while you drip", pressing a kiss against your tear stained cheek. "And tomorrow you're going to come in early so I can fuck you proper, understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Harrington", you manage to answer this time, tone taking on a pitiful whine.

"Good. Now go get cleaned up".

#steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington #stranger things #dilf! steve harrington #dilf! steve harrington smut

[thornsnvultures]

bending the rules

older!dilf!Steve Harrington x plus size!fem!Reader

summary: Robin convinces Steve to take a yoga class only to bail on him at the last minute.

cw: alt universe/non-canon, awkward!divorced!Steve (he's been out the game for a minute), fluff, 1.7k words

an: I have like half of a smutty bit for this fic written but it felt kind of tacked on so I left it off. if enough people enjoy this I'll post that bit later. also thank you to @hellfirehottie420 for the yoga class idea and to @ozarkthedog for gassing me up and encouraging me to keep going when I wanted to give up! It's not a big fic but we celebrate little victories here. (divider by @/saradika)

an 2: the model in the moodboard is not representative of the reader insert. there's no physical descriptions in the fic. I just didn't want anyone giving me a hard time with that "fat people can't do yoga" shit. every body is a yoga body. thank you 😌

After Steve's marriage fell through he resigned himself to never doing that again. He made a mess of things the first time around anyway. And not knowing what a happy, stable marriage looked like growing up sure didn't help either.

So when things finally imploded he took it on the chin and vowed to be the best dad he could be. He wouldn't let his failed marriage take that away from him. Dating was off the table and for a long time casual hookups were too; it never felt like the right time.

Robin had insisted on him getting out there, doing something for himself that didn't involve kids or work. Steve used to have fun, he was the king of fun! Now he was sure he wouldn't know fun if it hit him in the face with a bat. And he sure as hell doesn't know how he let Robin talk him into taking a yoga class at the town rec center.

She was supposed to be here, to help ease him into having some semblance of a social life, but she bailed at the last minute blaming a mix up in her schedule.

"I forgot I already told Nance I'd take her out tonight. Just go! I'll come with you next week, I promise."

Steve sighed, standing outside the classroom doors with his hands on his hips. He can see a few people milling around, chatting and rolling out mats as he hesitates there in the hallway.

"It'll be fine. Just go in, stretch out some old joints and go home. Easy. Nothing to be afraid of. You're not afraid," Steve shook his head. Standing outside and talking to himself wasn’t a good look. Not with this mustache on his face.

He looked through the windowed doors and swallowed, "It's just a room full of women in spandex. You're not a creep, it's exercise, you're here to exercise."

"First time?"

Steve nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees you standing there smirking at him. Your eyebrows rise and you gesture to the rolled up mat under your arm when Steve takes a little too long to respond.

Shit, should he have brought his own mat?

"Yeah,” Steve croaks and you smile. “I mean, yes. This is the beginner's yoga class, right? My friend was supposed to do it with me but she bailed."

“Ah,” your smile falters a little but you nod and open the classroom doors leaving Steve to wonder what he said wrong.

"They have mats over there if you need one," you point to the stack on the other side of the room then introduce yourself. Steve knows he's staring at you like a hapless idiot but he successfully remembers to give you his name in return, along with an awkward handshake.

"Thank you," Steve doesn't want to let go of your hand, so warm and soft it's messing with his head. "Sorry, I'm, uh, I'm a little nervous. I haven't done anything like this since my 20s."

"What, exercise?"

Steve feels a twinge of pride at the way you glance down at his arm muscles. You furrow your brow and bite your lip and Steve knows you can tell by the way they swell under his short sleeves that you know that can't be true.

"No, I mean going out,” he shrugs, wiggling the mat in his arms, “trying something new."

"Ah," you nod your head and smile again and Steve wonders if you can hear how fast his heart's beating.

You're walking towards the front of the class now with your mat and Steve in tow, asking him what made him want to try yoga of all things. Steve admits his friend Robin had signed him up for the class and that he rarely gets out of the house these days.

“Oh, same,” you nod in understanding and Steve sighs in relief. “I’m so busy between work and going back to school that I barely have time for myself. The yoga studio is my happy place.”

Steve smiles and is about to ask you what you’re going to school for when he's stopped by the teacher suddenly clapping her hands together and calling for everyone to get settled so they can start.

"Can I?" Steve gestures at the spot next to you and you smile again.

"Absolutely."

---

The class passes in a sweaty blur. Steve thought he was in decent shape. He lifts weights in his garage at home, runs a few days a week, and generally takes care of his body. He was an athlete for god's sake, he's familiar with all that jazz. Nope. Steve nearly pulled a few muscles in his back he didn't know he had.

It also didn't help that the shorts he wore to class might've been a little too short. He hoped, for the sake of the woman behind him, that his thighs were the only things he was showing off during downward dog.

You, on the other hand, were a champ. Graceful in your movements and barely breaking a sweat. You admitted to him halfway through the class, as the teacher made her rounds correcting poses, that you usually took the more advanced class but liked to hop in on beginner class days as a refresher on basic poses.

"You're doing great!" You shoot Steve a thumbs up and he feels his face heat at your encouragement but sends a shaky thumbs up back.

Sweat lines his forehead and he pushes his flop of hair back when it falls in his face before moving on to the next pose. His glasses had slid down his face enough times that Steve stopped fussing with them and put them off to the side, but his hair he couldn't do anything about, unruly as it was.

He catches you watching him a few times, once in warrior pose when Steve accidently put the wrong foot forward and wound up facing the opposite direction as the rest of the class. The way you tried to hide your laugh when he pretended like he was surprised to see you there lit him up inside.

The next time he caught you was when he turned his head towards you while tucked in child's pose. It seemed like your eyes were on his legs, maybe checking to see if he was doing the pose right? When you realized he knew you were watching your eyes went wide. Steve smiled and you quickly turned your head back down to the mat. Maybe you weren't checking his form after all. Or maybe you were? Steve couldn’t wrap his head around it. Were you just being nice or had you been checking him out too?

As class wrapped up Steve rolled up his mat and thanked the teacher for her help, promising to not only come back next week but to bring a friend too. He couldn’t wait to make Robin suffer through an hour of this. And you, he had to thank you for making tonight one of the most enjoyable nights he'd had in a long time.

"So I'll see you next week?" You adjust your bag over your shoulder. Most of the rest of the class had left but you didn't look like you were in much of a rush.

"Yeah, I'd love to. I mean, I’ll be here. I had a lot of fun."

"Glad you tried something new?"

Steve swallows at your teasing smile, suddenly feeling like "something new" didn't mean yoga anymore. His eyes drifted down to the light sheen of sweat dotting your chest and he quickly pulled his gaze away.

"Definitely."

"Good," you nodded.

You were starting to walk away. Robin would kick his ass if he didn’t make a move.

"Hey! Uh," you turn around to see Steve reaching out for your arm before pulling his hand back. He stops and scratches the back of his head. "Do you, I mean, would you like to get coffee sometime? As a thank you for…y’know, helping me with my poses."

Steve smiles and hopes he doesn’t look like a dweeb when he fidgets and pushes up his glasses.

"Walk me back to my car?"

The corner of Steve's mouth tilts up and he motions for you to hand over your gym bag. Once it’s tucked into the crook of his arm he nods towards the door at the end of the hall.

"Ladies first."

---

"You looked like a lost puppy. But honestly, it wasn't the first time I've seen a man looking intimidated outside of a yoga studio."

Steve gapes at you as you laugh.

"I was...making sure I had the right room."

"Sure, big guy," you chuckled as you patted Steve's arm.

The two of you finally reach your car and you tap the unlock button but stop before opening the door.

“Thanks for walking me.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t want you out here by yourself this late at night.”

A group of teens on bikes ride past the rec center a moment later, probably on their way to the well-lit basketball court on the other side of the building where a few other kids are already playing.

“Mhm. All these ruffians around. Why, a girl just doesn’t feel safe ‘round these parts anymore,” you tease in a shy southern belle accent.

Steve chuckles and ducks his head. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. And I'm glad you came tonight."

“Me too.”

Steve found himself inching closer to you as your back pressed against your car. "So will you? Get coffee with me, that is?"

You looked up at him through your pretty lashes and Steve didn't care about his age or his creaky joints or his fear of fun. He wanted to find himself again in your eyes. If you'd let him.

"What about your friend? The woman that was supposed to come with you tonight?"

"Hmm? Oh, Robin? I think she'd say you could do better," Steve grimaced, shaking his head. "Her girlfriend would say the same thing."

"Oh," you laugh into your hand. "Gotcha."

"Why'd you ask?"

"No reason. Coffee sounds great," you whisper and lift your chin to press a kiss to Steve's stubbled jaw.

He stands there in the parking lot long after you gave him your number, hastily scribbled on the back of a receipt pulled from your purse, and drove away.

He has to call Robin.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x plus size!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #dilf!steve harrington #older!steve harrington #older!reader #my fics #too much preamble for a relatively short fic #lol