#i know its a big ask but fucking christ

[something-about-sunflowers]

We are literally not watching the same show istfg.

The man is a PIRATE. To say he would never CHOOSE violence is just. Blatantly incorrect. He reminisced fondly about gouging out somebody’s eye. Fang is SCARED of him. ‘When people see the flag they just surrender, I don’t even have to be on the boat’ is a complaint about nobody putting up a fight anymore. He WANTS a fight. I’m.

Can we please, PLEASE, rewatch the show without the rose-tinted glasses? Can we fucking acknowledge that there is a baseline of violence that is treated less seriously because this is a rom-com about pirates and its not always an indicator of who is a ‘bad evil person’ who must be condemned for committing said acts of violence? Ed can enjoy being violent and still not be okay with having killed his abusive father. The trauma there comes from the abuse and the fact that the murder was retaliation against said abuse. Killing your abuser is traumatizing. Hell, he can have trauma around murder and still be okay with violence because violence doesn’t inherently lead to/imply murder.

‘Ed doesn’t like/want to be violent and Stede is his hero saving him from the violent oppressive life of piracy’ is SUCH a flat fucking take. Its infantilizing, and frankly? Its boring. Its a boring read on such an interesting character with such an interesting relationship with violence.

#the dork is being a dork #not tagging ed #like #shit like this is legit making me consider unfollowing amuseoffyre because people with shit takes like this love their meta #and like i don't always agree with their meta but its not ever the repugnant shit the izzy haters spew #its a different perspective and i can respect that #but this shit? #this isn't a different perspective this is a misread that is being presented as fact and it colors a lot of people's interpretations of the #canon in ways that take all the onus off of ED to make himself a better person and puts it all onto other people 'forcing' him into a #lifestyle that he CHOSE and - at one point - ENJOYED #i would not be surprised if this person blamed izzy for all of ed's faults #nor would i be surprised seeing the abysmal 'izzy is abusing ed' take from them either #can we please get a little media comprehension? some actual analysis of what we see AND hear from ALL parties? #i know its a big ask but fucking christ #if we can't engage with the ACTUAL media can we at least shut up when it comes to making meta posts?

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

the vitriolic hatred most people have for things that look weird is so upsetting to me sometimes :(

#update in my search for bristleworm names i came across a newscast from a few years ago where #some fisherman pulled up a big bearded firewormnin their net and shared a video of it #and the whole newscast was ppl being like 'ewww what is that thing' 'if i pulled that up in my net id kill it' #'im never going in the water again ew ew' #like. guyes. its a fucking worm #and its. not even that big. AND its not even native to texas one just got washed thru currents from the Mediterranean (supposedly) #like. shut upppppppppp its just a worm #i see that SO much w ocean stuff specifically snd its like.... its not actually that scary. come onnnn. #its sooo much more fascinating than anything else. and lo and behold the ONE (1) scientist they talked to #was immediately like wow thats incredible and started asking questions. like. aaughrhrghh idk. #its only 8am ive been up for like 3 hours im rlly tired i dont have words yet. #but can we stop immediately wanting to kill every sea creature that gets pulled onto land by mistake. can we stop. youre so annoying. #youre not cute for going ewwwww gross youre just. ignorant and frustrating. head in hands. theyre not some alien monster. #its literally a worm #its a worm! thats all it is! its a worm with unique adaptations to help it survive in a harsh environment #and just because you think it looks weird doesnt mean it deserves to die #ARUGHGHGHHH ppl that dont listen to scientists make me insane. ppl that blatantly ignore science make me SO isnane. #go read a book. go look at a picture of a worm. #GO TO A FUCKIGNGG AQUARIUM FOR CHRISTS SAKE. do u KNOW how many of these bitches ive pulled out of tanks??? theyre everywhere. #and yes we killed them but like. not bc theyre ugly and gross but because too many of them become a pest species #and will literally kill all ur fish. its a balance. like literally everything else in nature. we kept a lot of them! #becasue when a fish dies theyre one of the most efficient decomposers and theyre an incredible help wirh water quality. #we had a tang die in a place that was completely inaccessible to us without breaking a huge coral colony so we couldnt get to it. #letting a dead fish sit in a tank is a death sentence for that tank usually. but we had enough bridtle worms to eat it #thay thing was gone in like a day. with only a minor spike in ammonia. it was insane. #anyway. sorry. got heated abt worms.

[geroya]

actuallly. im SO pissy rn but im TRYING to feel better <3

#☼.txt #im NOT kidding i only want to play video games if they are fun but my brother who is the only person i have to duo with #is actually the most toxic fucking person #its so fucking annoying #& one of my BIG issues is that even when i say no i dont wanna play then it feels like im locked out of doing ANYTHING #bc then he'll know im playing games but not with him bc he's my friend #+ like if i tell him no he'll just text me hours later asking again & unless im like. no. im sick. or no. dont feel well #then he'll leave me alone until MUCH later #but AGAIN if i say that THEN IM LOCKED OUT OF PLAYING ANYTHING bc #its like. if you were feeling so bad then how come you were able to play x #(bc there are already issues with him believing the severity of my migraines etc etc) #& i just. im so fucking ANNOYED #bc it???? literally SHOULDNT BE THIS BIG OF A DEAL? LIKE HOW STUPID ??? OF A SITUATION #& its actually draining me so much either way like. jesus fucking christ.

[roanniom]

i can’t stop thinking about virgin! eddie being so embarrassed about coming after like 3 seconds and he keeps apologizing and says he wants to make up for it😩😩

Okay for You

Virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, PIV / unprotected sex, uncertainty but it resolves

“Jesus fucking Christ, holy mother of fucking god,” he’s stuttering as you lower yourself down on him. His fingertips dig into the meat of your hips so hard you can most certainly count on bruises tomorrow. He’s a lot to take but it feels good as you sink down, giving him a wincing grin.

“Didn’t know the town satan worshiper was so religious,” you tease, lightly sliding the tip of your index finger up and down the naked expanse of his chest in the shape of a cross. “Do you wanna be absolved of sin or do you wanna cum?

“Fuck, you can’t just–,” Eddie bucks up into you harshly and you laugh. Your laugh gets brighter when you notice the furrow in his brow and the desperation in his eyes.

“Choose sin, Eddie. I know you wanna cum.”

“Quit talking about cumming, I’m gonna fucking bust,” he whines out. You roll your hips, once, twice.

“Cum on the dark side, Eddie. We’ve got pussy.”

You’re straight up giggling at your own absurdity and at how far gone he is in under a minutes. His eyes roll back in his head and his mouth drops open in a heady groan, hips stuttering upwards as he spills deep inside you. You ground your hands on his shoulders and bear down on him so that he feels fully encased and snug through his orgasm.

Eddie, it turns out, is fucking beautiful when he cums. Pink tinges the high points of his cheeks, getting darker around his ears and flushing crimson down his neck to his chest. His wet lips are open as he gasps down air, eyelids shut tight against the intensity of his release.

It takes him a minute, but the second he realizes what’s happened, his hands are off your thighs and covering his face in mortification.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“That good, handsome?” you ask smugly, not quite noticing the tonal shift yet.

“No its…well yeah but I didn’t…that was too…fuck I’m so sorry.” When he finishes rambling he sits up and pulls his hands from his face, revealing an almost teary eyed expression. Your eyebrows shoot up in response.

“Hey, hey! What’s wrong?” you ask, suddenly a lot softer, your hand curling around his forearm to pull him so he stops biting at a nail.

“I just blew my load in 0.5 seconds like a fucking virgin.”

You stare at him for a second before breaking out into hysterical giggles. He looks affronted at first, but as you keep laugh the corner of his mouth quirks a little.

“What?”

“Eddie, you are a virgin,” you clarify, though you immediately amend it. “Were a virgin. I kinda expected it, to be honest.”

Eddie huffs a laugh but sits a bit straighter. He’s still inside you, growing soft, but you like the closeness so you don’t get up just get.

“What? You didn’t think I’d be a mind blowing lover?” he asks and your glad he’s back to making jokes. You shrug.

“You’ve got a big dick, so you’re not that far off to begin with. If we work on your stamina you could be blowing my back out in no time.”

You watch him short circuit as he stares at you and you definitely don’t miss the way his dick twitches inside of you.

“Yeah?” he asks. It’s hesitant. You lean forward and give him a kiss that answers all his questions - bruising and wet and probing and dirty - and his lips chase yours when you pull away.

“You’ll be Fabio in no time,” you promise with a cheeky smile.

“I wanna make you cum,” Eddie replies earnestly. His hands are back on your thighs, smoothing up and down. “I’m so fucking pissed I didn’t make you cum. ‘M sorry.”

“Eddie, don’t be sorry,” you reassure him. You go to kiss him again and he melts, mewling desperately and leaning into the affection. It turns you on so much that this scary, beautiful man is putty beneath you. So much so that you feel yourself growing needy and snake a hand down between you to start playing with your clit.

The friction causes you to squeeze around his rapidly re-hardening cock. He jolts at the feeling.

“What’re you…?” he breaks away to ask you, eyes trailing down to your ministrations. “Oh fuck are you…are you touching yourself?”

“Mhm. You’re making me feel good, Eds. I kinda have to,” you confirm with a chuckle. He watches you for a moment before he slides his hand down your abdomen tentatively.

“Can…can I do it?”

You’re panting a bit at this point. Worked up again from the lack of satisfaction the first time around.

“You wanna?” you ask, kind of hoping he’ll say no so you can get yourself off before he cums prematurely again. You can feel his hips beginning to cant lightly, teasing you with the pressure.

“Please,” he practically whispers and you can deny him so you pull you hand away. What you aren’t expecting is for him to grab it and wrap his lips around your wet fingers. Your eyes blow wide and your pussy clenches around his cock, making him groan around his mouthful.

“Eddie…” you say quietly. He blinks at you before pulling your fingers from his mouth with a pop and reaching down to press his own circles into your clit.

It’s juuuuust off. Another millimeter and you’ll feel great. You roll your hips to try and get him where you need him, but unfortunately the slide of his cock inside of you distracts him, making him freeze up and moan. So you take matters into your own hands, literally, grabbing his wrist and pulling at him so that he’s on the right spot.

“Yeah? Right there?”

He’s seeking genuine reassurance, but your brain hears the questions as dirty talk, making you roll your hips again.

“Fuck. Yeah. Yeah right there.”

You begin grinding on him in earnest while he continues to play with you. After a few moments you grab his free hand to bring it from your hip to grope your breast. His eyes practically bug out of his head.

“Oh wow,” Eddie says.

You want to laugh at how easy he is. But it’s starting to feel really good, and you’re so pent up at this point you decide just to chase it.

“Say something,” you breathe out. Eddie looks confused.

“Like…like what?”

“Just - fuck. I don’t know. Talk dirty.” You’re doing your best not to ride him fully, because you can see the way all of his muscles are starting to tense. You hope that by giving him a task it’ll distract him long enough so you can cum.

“Uh you’re…you’re just like…so fucking beautiful—,”

“Eds,” you let out a frustrated chuckle. “That’s not dirty talk—.”

“So f-fucking beautiful on my cock,” he continues as if you hadn’t interrupted him. “Want you to cum. You’re so wet, bet you need it so bad.”

Well shit.

Recently de-virgin-ed Eddie had found your weakness and it’s condescension. Your pussy squeezes him and you let out a moan that has him grinning through a hiss.

“You need it, huh? Just desperate to cum, huh baby?”

Baby is a new pet name and you love it. You nod and his finger picks up it’s pace on your clit, his other hand following your earlier lead by playing with and tugging at your nipples.

“Need it, Eds.”

“Oh I need it, too, baby. Shoulda happened the first time, but I need you to feel good now, ok?” There’s a sincerity behind the lightest layer of teasing. He can’t really tease fully. Not when he’s on the brink of cumming again as it is.

But the laser focused eye contact he’s locked you in is doing plenty for you.

“Ok.”

“Ok,” Eddie repeats in a hum. His free hand goes to the back of your neck and pulls you down to him so he can grace you with a wet, sucking kiss. He bites your plush lower lip and lets his free hand tighten in your hair.

“Oh god, Eddie,” you whimper against his lips.

“Fuuuuck, I’ve been waiting to hear you like this,” Eddie groans.

You’re basically just cock warming him at this point with a little humping mixed in. But you’re really impatient at this point, so the constant roll of your hips is taking you further than it usually would.

Eddie’s free hand slides from your hair down your back to grab a a handful of your ass. He guides your gyrating hips up and down your cock just that much more and now you’re panting.

“Eddie,” you whine. “I’m close.”

“Holy shit. Seriously?” Eddie asks, his eyebrows shooting up. Clearly shocked.

“Yeah, handsome. You’re fucking me so good.”

You both know it’s an exaggeration. But you’re impatient to cum at this point and eager to praise the beautiful man beneath you. He preens and licks his lips.

“Yeah? Gonna fuck you so good, baby. Wanna make you feel so good. Please, just let me baby. Wanna…oh fuck…please.” He’s rambling at this point and you know he’s close. You bring your hands to either side of his face, framing his jaw.

“Look at me, handsome,” you breathe. You’re so close at this point. His hazy eyes find yours.

“Baby…” he says, eyelids fluttering. He looks just so absolutely destroyed - that’s what ultimately gets you. That this man is losing his damn mind over you but holding out as long as he can so you feel pleasure.

That pleasure washes over you in that moment, along with a cry of Eddie’s name. You collapse over him and cling to him as your pussy spasms around his aching cock. It blows Eddie’s ever loving mind to feel your body reacting to him so strongly. His last bit of resolve snaps like a fucking twig and suddenly he’s clutching you to him and fucking up into you.

“Baby-oh fuck. Baby, yes. God.” He’s gasping and panting and then his hips are stuttering. He goes still, cumming inside you for the second time tonight.

You’re so full. Two loads of cum and his already oversized cock. But even better is how he holds you. Big arms surround you and keep you grounded against his body, even as twitching aftershocks rock him.

It’s a few moments before you’re properly able to do anything other than relish in the feeling of his overwhelming presence. It’s the persistent ache in your muscles that spurs you into action.

“Eddie…I’ve gotta move…”

“Oh fuck, sorry!” He’s quick to release you, letting you peel yourself from his sweaty skin and gingerly climb off of him. Before you can move any further he jumps up. “Wait let me just…”

He’s back in a moment with a wash cloth - warm, you notice in the back of your hazy mind. He lightly cleans you up, missing the heart eyes you direct his way from the sheer gentleness of his movements.

Eddie is so caring. So sweet and bumbling and eager and awkward and you can’t help but beam back at him when he sends a smile your way. He settles back on the bed with you hesitantly.

“Was that…was that okay for you?” he asks.

“I should be asking you that,” you counter, slapping at his arm. He’s having none of it, though, instead grabbing you and pulling you into his arms.

“Well I fucking came twice so I don’t think it’s really a question, baby.”

“Hmmm I like when you call me baby,” you coo. You’re a boneless mass of gooey feelings now, encased in Eddie’s arms. The skin around his eyes crinkles and his dimples deepen.

“Oh yeah? You like being my baby?” You don’t miss the way his flush gets deeper but you relish in the newfound confidence in his voice.

“I love being your baby, Eds.”

~*~

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Thank you for reading! Please reblog and comment to let me know what you think

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things smut

[evie-sturns]

Truth or Dare - Matt Sturniolo

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summary: an innocent game of truth or dare results in you losing your virginity to matt.

warnings: NSFW, swearing.

--------------------------------°°••....••°°----------------------------------

"mattt.." i groan as my head rests on his lap. "you alright baby?" matt says quietly as he puts down his phone.

me and matt have been together for about 2 months, but we've never done anything sexually, ive never done anything sexually. im a total virgin and matt doesnt know.

"we should do something" i say sitting up on the couch and readjusting my ponytail. "like what?" matt says softly as he stands up "likee... truth or dare?" i say giggling and matt smiles at me "what are we, in 6th grade" matt says with a small laugh.

i stand up and drag matt to the bedroom, shutting the door behind us. matt sits down on the bed and i instantly crawl onto his lap, straddling him. "okay hmf, truth or dare?" i ask smiling and matt grins at me "truth? i dont know." he replies awkwardly "have you ever done anything illegal?" i say smirking and he doesn't reply. "matt..." i say dragging out the 'a' trying to hold back another laugh.

after a few rounds, matt starts to shift uncomfortably under me. i reposition myself on his lap and he groans "are you okay? am i too heavy sorry.." i say awkwardly "no- no..you just might need to get off" matt mumbles as i see his cheeks flush.

i realise whats happening, matts bulge is poking my ass. as soon i realise i jump off him and cover my face out of embarrassment. my grabs my wrists and pulls my hands off my eyes. my cheeks go a deep red and he smiles at me, i see his eyes flick down to my lips and i smash my lips into his. he grabs my waist and pulls me back onto his lap. he breaks for a second and grabs the hem of my shirt. "ca-can i?" matt asks and i dont fully understand what he means, but i agree to it. he pulls my shirt over my head, revealing my pink lacy bra. my eyes widen but i ignore it.

is this really happening? am i even ready? am i about to loose my virginity?

i go along with it, ill be fine. he unclasps my bra and his cheeks and the tips of his ears go pink. he is the first man to ever see my chest. he flips us over so im on my back, he looks down at me and puls down my shorts slowly, revealing my matching panties. "fuck your so perfect." matt grumbles. hes fully clothed but im only wearing my panties, its somewhat humiliating. he quickly pulls down his sweatpants and his dick springs out onto his stomach, its big. jesus christ its big.

he pulls my panties off and rubs his tip against my clit. he teases my entrance and my breathing becomes more frantic, why am i so scared? i feel a few tears roll down my cheek and matt gasps looking at me, insantly pulling away from me and yanking up his sweatpants. "hey, hey, are you okay?" he says shakily grabbing my cheek "sorry." i sniffle as i wipe my eyes. matt sits down on the bed and i sit up, he maintains a distance "dont cry, im so sorry can you talk to me please, whats going on sweetheart" he says gently and fidgets with his rings. i shuffle over and sit on his lap. his breath hitches in his throat as my naked body leans against him, but he plays it off as a cough. "just promise you wont judge me okay?" i say breaking the silence and he stambles "i would never judge you sweetheart." he says soothingly

"i know i havent told you but im a.. uh.. virgin." i whisper out and he nods understandingly "but i thought i was ready.. its not your fault i- i just uh. when you took your pants off it was.." i say quietly as i wipe my eyes "its big.. your dick is really big." i say with an embarrassed giggle. he just smiles at me "im sorry for taking it fast, i would've gone slow if i knew, your just so pretty i assumed youd done it." he says comforting me and rubbing my thighs "i wanna do it still though." i say quietly and he nods "o-okay!!" he says trying to hold back his excitement "do you wanna ask me questions before we start" he asks "well i did wanna know uhm, how many people have you fucked." i say softly "3 people, yeah uh.. three." he says i let out a sigh of relief "so your good at it??" i reply instantly and matt laughs rubbing his eyes "i guess?" he says embarrased and i get off his lap.

"can you talk me through it?" i ask laying back on the bed "yeah, okay sure!" he says positioning himself between my legs "im gonna have to stretch you out a little first okay? i dont want it to hurt." he says and i nod "just my middle finger, have you ever done this to yourself?" i shake my head "no.." and he just nods "okay thats fine!" he says "just relax okay." he says pushing his long middle finger all the way into me "your doing so good." he growls quietly thrusting it slowly in and out. "i'm gonna add another finger, and your gonna take it really well." he says pushing another finger into me.

this is a really new sensation, but it feels really good. it kind of burns though.

after a few minutes of him spreading his fingers apart inside of me he pulls both of his fingers out and i whine "baby your gonna get my cock, be patient." he says sternly and i nod quickly. he positions his tip at my entrance and i moan softly "such pretty noises." he mumbles as he pushes his tip just inside of me and pulls it back out, then pushes it in again. "so fucking tight oh my god." he whimpers as he pushes slightly more into me "im just gonna give you half okay?" he says sliding further into me and i let out a long moan. "its okay baby, hold my hand" he says reaching his hand out and gripping my sweaty palm.

"your only taking half, do you think you can take the rest of it?" he whispers in my ear "yeah- yes matt.." i say nervously and he slides all the way in, his tip kissing my cervix "so good for me baby." he says resting inside of me "so so perfect." he groans as he slides all the way out to his tip, then pushes all the way inside me again. "fuck.." he whimpers as he starts to thrust in and out faster "matt oh my god." i moan as he presses on my lower stomach with his free hand, so he can feel how deep he is inside of me. the stomach bulge is clear and its driving matt crazy. "your clenching baby, cum for me." he whispers "i- i dont know how to!!" i say loudly and he shushes me "yes you do, i know you can." he stays calm and i let out a loud moan before orgasming all over his length "goodd... fuck oh my fuck.. so good baby so so perfect." he whispers words of affirmation in my ears before abrubtly pulling out and cumming all over my tits "fuck fuck fuck.." he says quickly as he strokes his dick a few final times before collapsing next to me and grabbing my waist to pull me into a tight hug on the bed. "you did so well. so so well." he says in between heavy pants as my legs just shake.

"your legs are shaking, you sure your okay?"

"i-i just..." i can barely string together a sentence as my hole aches.

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yall BETTER send me requests in my inbox PLEASE!!

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you

[scaredbisexual]

MOOTS🥹 I am here to request🙏 Can I request a Joost Klein x reader enemies to lovers? Just a classic trope🤭

You ask and I deliver, my liege.

Dunno if it's enough lovers, if you would like me to elaborate in part two lemme know, I'm open to continuing this story!

Big, big kisses for my first request, too! Love ya!

And he did | Joost Klein x fem!reader

Summary: ‘They disqualified you?’ she demanded, pressing her back to the door. She has never seen him in this new, raw edition. Never experienced this boy who sniffled and laughed hoarsely. 

‘Mm-hm, must make you a very happy woman, doesn’t it?’ 

Word count: 1011 (in half an hour no less, I'm crazy for him)

WARNINGS: some swearing, nothing explicit

Author's note: there is no use of Y/N, but the reader is referred to as "she" and is mentioned to wear a dress. I haven't yet mastered the ability to write those in a gn way, but gimme some time and I'll try to do better!

The corridors were lively as ever, curving and suddenly ending, loads of people walking around them and talking excitedly amongst each other. It was an important night, one that would be remembered by many for years and years to come. Everyone was ready, adrenaline pumping through their veins, silly and/or sexy costumes on, game-faces on. It was show-time. 

‘For Christ’s sake, let’s just get it over with!’ someone exclaimed from the side but she paid them no mind. She was walking hurriedly, her steps loud and heavy, chest raising rapidly, as if she has just run for hour hours on end. But she hasn’t, no, that was actually more exhausting. 

Rage. The pure rage that was born in her veins, surging through her system, flushing out every other emotion ever known to her. Rage that was born ages ago, eons before. 

Finally having reached her destination she pushed the heavy door to a dim-lit room, a certain name and surname decorating it. “Joost Klein” it read, a dorky-looking cutout of his face hanging right next to it. He must have done it himself. Yeah, that would make perfect sense, actually. 

She opened the door and right away closed it behind her, looking at the scene in front of her. Here he was, in his European-Union-Blue, his jacket laying on the floor, discarded in a hurry, looking sad when it only ever brought joy to people. And next to it, on a plush sofa, wrapped in a blanket and with a teacup in hand, sat him. The reason for her rage, the man who made her see red.

He got startled at her entrance, the liquid sloshing in his cup and burning his hand. He hissed in pain and a grimace made its way on his face. A, objectively speaking, handsome face with a frown etched onto it, brows furrowed, eyes red. 

‘They disqualified you?’ she demanded, pressing her back to the door. She has never seen him in this new, raw edition. Never experienced this boy who sniffled and laughed hoarsely. 

‘Mm-hm, must make you a very happy woman, doesn’t it?’ the man replied, his voice thick with emotion, trying to act like it wasn’t. Like it was just him, the goofy guy with jokes and anecdotes up his sleeves. 

‘Like hell it does!’ she protested. It was hot in the room, so hot and heavy, the silence after her words suffocating them both. He slowly raised his head, turning around to look at her. He tilted his head to the side, silently posing a question. ‘I don’t like injustice, Joost, you know it.’ 

And it was true. She hated when she or others were getting fucked over, lied to, when bad things happened to good people, essentially. 

The rage was still there, it’s quiet bonfire still burning brightly, albeit a little dimmer, just a tad. She didn’t hear any ringing in her head anymore, just the labored breathing of him and her. Of them. 

And isn’t that funny? The both of them sitting in one room, eyeing one another and not saying a word. After all, it was more than usual for them to get into catfights, sneer at one another, jokingly (or not) tease. It has been like it forever, really, ever since they met at this one festival at the beginning of both of their career. It has been like that ever since he spilled his drink on her stage costume and then laughed, not sparing her another glance. 

Ever since they continued to meet on other festivals, her shooting daggers at his and his friends’ careless behavior, him sticking his tongue out at her and walking away. 

Ever since she tripped over one of the cables and bumped into him, causing him to drop one of the microphones and destroying it. Ever since she fought fiercely to not pay for such mike.

That moment, yes. The rage seemed to be saying, its fingers curling around her heart and clenching, stuffing her full of the need to sneer, to bite back. 

But how? How was she supposed to think of this careless teenage boy she met when she, too, was a stupid young girl? How to do it when there he was, curled on himself, dark bags under his eyes, the sleeves of his shirt uncuffed and crumpled, as if he squeezed them in his hands too much. A skipping rope laid somewhere in the mess of the room, discarded just like his jacket.

And so the silence continued while the room got colder and colder, her face softer and his eyes glassier. 

‘Fuck the EBU’ she muttered, walking closer to him. She approached the sofa, took a deep breath and sat next to him. The man followed her every move with his eyes, a glint of something making them shine. Or maybe it was just the unshed tears. 

‘Yeah’ he rasped. Joost shook his blonde hair, as if he were a dog, as if shaking off the sadness. He slapped a goofy looking grin on his face and wiggled his brows at her. ‘You worried or something?’ he teased, nudging her with his elbow. 

And that did it. In the speed of lightning she lounged herself at him and engulfed him in a hug. The kind that breaks bones and any internal barricades you may have. She put her chin on his head and waited. 

To give credit where credit’s due, he reacted instantly. He snaked his arms around her body, resting his forehead on her chest and taking a deep, shaky breath. 

‘You would’ve won this’ she whispered gently, stroking his hair. The rage was gone, the hot hot feeling fleeting the moment she saw his fake smile. Instead another kind of warmth bloomed in her chest, shaking her to her core. And he didn’t seem to fare any better, his shoulders slumping and fingers curling around the fabric of her dress. 

‘You’re okay, it’s gonna be fine’ she mumbled into his hair, stroking his back in soothing circles. ‘Breathe, Joost, just breathe’. 

And he did.

#joost klein #europapa #eurovision 2024 #joost klein x you #joost klein x reader #justice for joost #joostice #eurovision song contest

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 10

part 1 | part 9 | ao3

cw: recreational drinking

When they get to Eddie’s trailer, Steve’s mom is sitting on the couch, eyes unblinking as she watches the TV.

There’s just static on the screen.

“Steve?” she slurs when she finally realizes they’re there. Sways a little when she stands. There’s a dreamy quality to her voice, a blank look on her tired face: agreeable but distant, a smudge of campfire smoke curling far over the trees.

Double-dosed her pills again. Jesus Christ.

“Oh, Stevie, baby, it was just awful.” She reaches out for him, and he wishes he could find comfort in the way she cups his elbows with delicate hands. Wishes he could lean into her touch and offer comfort in return, but her tone is so dull and mild that bile rises in his throat. Chemical calm bullshit, and Steve has had enough.

“Ma, just…” he sighs, shrugging her off. Scrubs a hand over his face. Too young and too old for this. “Just go home, okay?” The street is quiet again, all the neighbors tucked back in their houses now that the show has run its course. He doesn’t think anyone will notice her stumbling across the road. “Get some rest. I’ll be over in a bit.”

“Sure, baby.” He leads her to the door, and she turns there on the threshold, eyes glassy and unfocused; looks through him like he’s a ghost. Then her gaze shifts around the room — the hats, the mugs, the clutter; the lived-in explosion of color that Steve’s annoyed he likes so much — like she’s just seeing it all for the first time, and absently, she murmurs, “This place is dreadful, isn’t it?”

“Mom.”

“Hmm?” she asks, but she’s already drifting out the door.

Steve’s face is on fire. He stands there for a moment, just staring dumbly out into the dark. What the hell is wrong with her??

Behind him, Eddie snorts. "Oh, she’s on the good shit, huh?”

Steve whips his head around. Eddie’s eyes are full of mirth, his dimple peeking out, and it startles a laugh out of Steve. He thinks maybe he’d take offense if he weren't so busy being mortified.

But also, like.

It is a little funny.

Or maybe it’s so unfunny that it circles back around.

“Jesus, man,” he huffs, “Sorry. I don’t— I don’t know why she…”

“S’fine,” Eddie says with a casual flick of his wrist. Seems like he means it. He rocks back on his heels, hands in his back pockets, just sort of eyeing Steve up. Assessing. Running his tongue over his lips. They're big, for a guy's. “…You want a beer?”

“Fuck.” That sounds so nice. “Yeah. Please.”

“Have a seat.”

Steve takes the offer when Eddie nods at the couch, too tired to do the whole song and dance of ‘oh heavens no, I couldn’t possibly impose.’ Who’s got the energy for that?

The couch is old. His skull thuds against the un-cushioned back when he sinks down into it, but he’s too tired to care. Worn out as the lumpy springs under his ass, the frayed fabric beneath his arm. A wave of exhaustion rattles his bones, reverberates in his teeth. He thinks he could sleep for sixteen years.

Eddie clears his throat when he comes back with the beers, a sudden cautiousness about him as he hands Steve an unopened can like Steve might claw him in return.

"Sit down," Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm not gonna bite."

Eddie makes a strangled noise. The springs bounce as he plops onto the seat beside Steve, sitting sideways with one leg up on the couch between them, his arm resting on the back. "So, ah...." He gives a wavering chuckle; pulls a lock of hair across his face to hide himself. "Is this the part where I formally apologize for trying to knife you?"

Ugh. No the fuck it isn't. Steve’s too drained for it, absolutely at capacity for more serious shit this evening, thanks; and besides that, it was...

Whatever. It's old news.

Instead of giving a real answer he reaches into his pocket, snicks his own knife open and pretends to brandish it at Eddie, asking, "Eye for an eye?"

Eddie's eyes go huge. "Dude, what the fuck??"

"Just fucking with you," Steve laughs, lifting the can up to his mouth. "But there; now we're even. Shoulda seen your face."

“Ah—!” Eddie’s jaw drops in offense. “Ex-cuse you!”

God, of course he’s more dramatic than all the kids combined.

Steve jabs the knife into his beer, pops the top and starts to chug, throat working as he gulps the whole thing down in four big sips. It tastes like frothy, bitter piss, but it's cold and it soothes the scratch in his throat.

Eddie lets out a low whistle. "Well, goddamn, Harrington."

"Is that supposed to impress me?" "You're not?"

Steve grins and wipes his mouth.

—

They get drunk pretty fast (Eddie refused to be upstaged in his own house, so one shot-gunned beer became two became four), and somewhere along the line the conversations get weird; hilarious and dumb. Saying shit just to say it, chipping away at the ice wall between them with bare fingernails.

Eddie hollers some shit like: "What are you even talking about?" and his arms fling out wide, almost spilling his beer. "The deep sea is so much scarier than the mountains!"

"Are you joking?" Steve throws back. "The mountains have, like, giant cats and shit! Birds of prey with wingspans the size of your van."

"Yeah, and the deep sea has eldritch monsters that live in volcano vents and hunt with no eyes and eat their young for fun or whatever the fuck. You ever heard of an anglerfish? Or a phantom anglerfish? Tell me that shit isn't right out of a Lovecraft story."

"A what story?"

"How am I the one who hasn’t graduated yet?"

Then later:

“Dude, Batman? Seriously?”

“He’s the world’s greatest detective!”

“He’s a greasy little weirdo. You only like him because of your whole…” Steve gestures at his tattoos.

“Whatever, Spiderfan.”

And later still:

"Okay, okay, okay. Fuck, marry, kill... Shit. Y’know this would really be easier in a town where so many people hadn’t died."

Steve grimaces at himself; expects Eddie to call him out. It’s too insensitive, too soon.

Eddie just cracks a grin and suggests, "Fuck, marry, revive?"

—

They talk for a long time. Eddie's kind of charming when he's not being a dick. A nice smile, deep laugh lines. Steve can almost see why the kids are so obsessed with him. He's never met someone so animated; feels like he's talking to a Saturday morning cartoon. The conversation mellows out after a while, and he doesn't realize he's dozed off until Eddie shakes him awake.

"Hey, man," he says, voice just above a whisper. "I'm going to bed. You're welcome to crash on the couch, but, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “I mean, your back is probably gonna hate you for it."

Steve rubs his fists against his eyelids and blinks himself awake. Feels jittery and weird, yanked out of the start of a bad dream. When he looks up he sees that he’s got his shoes up on the couch; and there’s dried drool on his chin, and all at once he feels embarrassed, off-balance and panicked like he missed the last step down a steep flight of stairs. Of course he's overstayed his welcome. He's being fucking rude. "My bad," he mutters as he jumps up off the couch. Stands up way too fast, makes his vision tilt and swirl. "I'll get out of your hair."

Eddie reaches for his arm. "Dude,” he says, “you're fine. You can stay if you want.”

Steve moves out of his hold. “Nah, get some sleep; I’ll see ya around.”

Eddie frowns at him, a little furrow between his brows, and somehow Steve feels like he’s in the wrong, like Eddie isn’t the one who just kicked him out.

Like maybe Steve’s just running away for a second time in one night. Always back and away, this guy.

Who's the fucking coward now?

—

part 11

y'all know the drill, tagging whoever commented on yesterday's installment provided your tumblr settings let me <;3 @thealwithnoname @violetsteve @manda-panda-monium @stuftzombie @bronwenmarie @aliea82 @slowandsteddie @acedorerryn @anne-bennett-cosplayer @ahsokatanoss @steveshairspray @hallucinatedjosten @estrellami-1 @ppunkpuppyy @stevesbipanic @silver-snaffles @yourmom-isgay @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @zombiecreatures @im-a-disgrace-to-humanity @faery-god @hotluncheddie @runninriot @a-little-unsteddie @teatimeeverybody @newtstabber @pearynice @hellion-child @cuips-not-cute @steddieas-shegoes @steves-strapcollection @loguine-linguine @griefabyss69

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #tw: alcohol #tw: drinking

[liberty-spiked]

Those cunts still havent paid me for the fucking work i did. 4. Fucking. Months. Of work. I am angery :)

#i dont know if its my boss or my social worker that deserves to get kicked in the crotch #and then they ask why you get more pissed and into anarchy #why do i even put so much effort into this shit when all i get is a big fat fuck you #fuck this shit the world is really testing me rn #how is it even possible to be this fucking angry while stoned fucking christ #yeah the festival is really gonna help me release some of my anger :) #love moshpits hope i get fucking destroyed #my posts

[handful0fteeth]

hot for teacher

summary: you’re going on your first date with steve harrington, and hours before he’s due to pick you up your best friend gives you some rather unsavory information.

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: smut, minors DNI, explicit language, dirty talk, (slight) rough sex

words: 13.6k

EDIT (09/24/2023): i am not a “no beta we die like men” person, but this?? she was not up to my standards. so i fixed her! enjoy ya horny bastards

"You know I heard Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?"

This announcement from your best friend is enough to make you choke on the mouthful of sandwich you're chewing on and spew chunks of it all over the table.

You drop your food noisily back onto its plate and reach for your drink, struggling to breathe while there's still turkey and lettuce lodged in your esophagus. The diner's patrons ogle you as you attempt to collect yourself, some concerned, some plain annoyed.

"Christ, dude!" Kelsey laughs, leaning over the table and thumping you hard on your back. You wave her hand off and guide your straw into your mouth, desperately gulping down Coke with one hand pressed to your chest as if that’ll ensure the food doesn't take a wrong turn on the way down.

"You have to - fuck, dude - you have to give a girl some warning before you just say shit like that, Kels," you sputter. You wipe a hand across your damp eyes and take a couple of steadying breaths, and finally, the reality of what Kelsey just said hits you. You look up and blink away the tears to get a clear look at her.

"Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?" you ask quietly, not wanting to attract any more attention. Kelsey nods, a smug grin plastered across her face. "Apparently, it's like a dog trying to drink water," she giggles. "Katie Kaspbrak went out with him last week, and she's been telling everyone how God-awful he is at head."

"Katie Kaspbrak? The same girl who swore half of the staff at school was in love with her?" You lean back against the cool vinyl of the booth and cough lightly, suddenly less interested in this gossip now that you've learned the source. 

Katie Kaspbrak would lie about what she had for breakfast if she thought it would make her seem more interesting. Actually, now that you think about it, she has done that.

"That's what I thought too," Kelsey continues, "until Belinda Carter and Donna Greene overheard her, and they said the same thing. Belinda said she was so shocked that she just faked it until he thought she came and then made an excuse to leave."

You pause. Katie Kaspbrak is one thing, but two other girls? That can’t all be a coincidence.

But… it's Steve Harrington. Every girl - and some of the boys - you've ever spoken to have the hots for him, whether they want to admit it or not, and how could he be so sought after if he gives such a piss-poor performance at something so fundamental? You pick at an errant lettuce leaf that juts out from the edge of your disheveled sandwich, pretending to find it fascinating so you don't have to look at Kelsey's elated expression anymore.

"Why are you waiting until now to tell me this?" you ask. Kelsey leans back in her seat and pops a french fry in her mouth, glancing at the dusty clock that hangs in the diner's lobby.

"Just wanted to give you something to look forward to before your date, Y/N," she says with barely contained glee. "I can't wait to hear all about it tomorrow." You shoot her a dirty look.

"Who says we're even gonna go that far tonight?" you counter, but you both know you're full of shit. You look down and pick at the skin around your fingernails to avoid Kelsey's knowing gaze because if you meet it, she'll see the uncertainty written all over your face. 

She loves messing with you like this; she's done it for almost every date you've ever gone on, regardless of who it's with. You pick up your sandwich and take a too-big bite to avoid having to talk anymore.

"Yeah, right. You've wanted to bang Steve since the moment you saw him, but you'll magically dry up the second you get the chance. Sounds legit."

 You stick out your tongue, letting Kelsey get a nice view of the smushed-up chunks of meat and bread hanging off it, but it doesn’t deter her snickering.

Her smug declaration is all you can think of for the rest of the day. It's so distracting that, while getting ready, you accidentally kiss the burning hot barrel of your curling iron to your temple and put your shoes on the wrong feet twice.

Who says that you have to go down that path tonight, anyway? Who says Steve is even the kind of dude to want to fuck on the first date?

Well...everyone who attended Hawkins High says, actually. Son of a bitch.

Perhaps you could just go down on him and insist he doesn't have to return the favor; it's not like most of the guys you've been with haven't leaped at the opportunity to skip the preamble and shove their dick in something anyway. The only problem with that is…you really wanna fuck Steve Harrington.

Really, really badly.

And you want it to be as good as it possibly can be. You've wanted this for years, and now that you've both graduated, who knows how long Steve plans to stick around in Hawkins so you can have your chance?

The time Steve promised he'd pick you up rolls around quicker than you'd anticipated. In the mirror, you smooth down your skirt one final time and fluff up your curls.

Kelsey doesn't know what she's talking about, you decide. Who were you to listen to gossip spread around by Katie Kaspbrak anyway? You practice smiling brightly in the mirror and notice a smear of lipstick across your front teeth. You lick at the stain and then rub it away with your index finger. It would be fine. 

Everything would be fine…right?

A car horn beeps twice before you can successfully reassure yourself.

He's here.

Oh, God.

You fly down the stairs two at a time, briefly worrying about how humiliating it would be to crack your head open before your date and snatch your purse off the kitchen table as you say goodbye to your mother. She reminds you of your curfew, and you give a vague acknowledgment as you pull the front door shut behind you.

In the faint evening light, Steve's maroon BMW is almost black, glimmering in the sour yellow streetlight like the shell of a beetle. Your heart leaps into your throat, but you croak a "Hi!" around it. Steve Harrington climbs out of his car gracefully, and his easy smile, accompanied by the bouquet of flowers he has clutched in his hand, is enough to make your knees wobble a bit.

"You look really pretty," he says, eyes flickering up and down your body. You're grateful for the dim outdoor lighting as your face flushes scarlet. "Thanks. Are those for me?" you ask, pointing at the bouquet. You wanna kick yourself as soon as you finish saying it. Of course, they're for you, you absolute buffoon. You’re on a date - who else would he be carrying flowers for?

Steve chuckles chuckles under his breath and extends them toward you. "You said these were your favorite, right? I saw 'em while I was getting stuff for tonight, so…Yeah." You gingerly take the flowers from him and bury your nose in the petals, inhaling their fresh scent as you look up at him through your lashes. He’s clenching and unclenching his fists by his sides, though his expression remains as casual as ever.

Is he…nervous?

He reaches in front of you as you walk up to the passenger side of the car and opens the door, bowing his head and gesturing for you to come inside exaggeratedly. You giggle and sink into the leather seats as he scurries around the car's hood. As he swings the door shut behind him and settles in behind the wheel, you silently draw a few steadying breaths.

The inside of his car smells distinctly of cologne and floral soap, so much so that you have to briefly wonder if he got his car detailed in anticipation of your date. His cologne is woody and sweet, not so strong that it stings behind your eyes, but you know the scent will stick to your clothes whether he lays a hand on you tonight or not. The thought makes your stomach flutter a little. As he revs the engine, you absently twirl the stem of a flower around your finger. 

"By the way," he says as he pulls out of your driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. "If you hear something clunking around back there while we drive, that's just Lucille."

You cock an eyebrow. "Lucille?"

You swear you see the ghost of a knowing smile creep across his lips, but an evening shadow cuts across his face before you're entirely sure. "Just a safety measure, that's all."

~~~

The date is more perfect than you could have ever imagined it to be. Steve takes you to a restaurant near the video store where he works, a little Italian place that's surprisingly upscale - at least, upscale for Hawkins. Your fingers don't get the opportunity to graze a door handle or the back of a chair the entire time, as he's always right behind you, reaching around your body to beat you to it.

His gaze never leaves your face when you talk, and he's so clearly hanging on every word you lose your train of thought a few times. It's jarring to have the guy you've been obsessed with for so long give you his undivided attention - in a good way, of course, but that doesn't stop the words from getting caught in your throat. 

He’s so pretty it's hard to maintain a coherent thought; all you want to do is stare at him and memorize the details of his face. The way his hair gently curves over his forehead, and he pushes a hand through the soft fringe to get it out of his eyes; the way his eyes sparkle in the warm, low light of the restaurant, transfixed on you like you're the single most intriguing thing he's ever laid them on.

You're not even halfway through offering to pay for half of the meal when he informs you he slipped his card to the host before you were even sat, and it's already taken care of. You insist he at least let you cover dessert - a small square of tiramisu you both nibble at - but he waves you off.

"You can pay for the next date," he says coolly, smiling behind a sip of his drink. You pull the cloth napkin from your lap and pretend to dab food from your mouth so you can hide your giddy smile and blushing cheeks. Next date, huh?

After dinner, he drives you to the outskirts of Hawkins, parking in a clearing in the forest that overlooks the blinking lights of the small city below. You have a perfect view of the moon as it gleams in the sky, full and white, and the stars glitter against the black velvet of the night without all the light pollution.

You sit on the hood of his car, legs crossed under you, picking at a loose thread on the hem of your skirt as it pools in your lap. You tug a too-big jacket tighter around your shoulders, a gift plucked from his trunk once he saw you shiver from the autumnal air against your skin. 

Steve is leaning back on his palms, head dropped between his shoulders as he stares at the sky. Goosebumps ripple across his skin, and every so often, his body twitches forward with a slight shiver, but he seems content enough in his short-sleeved shirt.

He catches you staring and chuckles when you avert your eyes and pretend to be fascinated by the paint on his car.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" he asks.

"A cute guy," you respond, your voice smaller than you intended. You clear your throat.

"That's so funny; I was just looking at a cute girl!" he exclaims, and you laugh. "Crazy how that works, huh?"

"Aren't you freezing?" you ask. Steve shrugs.

"I'm alright. It's refreshing. Keeps me awake," he murmurs.

A few minutes of silence pass comfortably. You listen to the sounds of the forest around you, only slightly concerned when you hear a twig snap in the distance or something rustle in the foliage beyond the car. But Steve's lack of interest in either puts you at ease. After a while, he points at a random spot in the sky and announces, "Found it!"

"Found what?"

"My friend Dustin - total nerd, by the way - was talking my ear off yesterday about constellations, like, how to find them and shit, and I found one!" He gestures for you to scoot closer without taking his eyes off his discovery, apparently not wanting to lose his spot. You do so, body hovering close enough to his that you can feel the warmth radiating off his skin, and his cologne wafts pleasantly back up into your nose. You follow the direction his finger is pointing in, scanning the inky blackness of the sky.

"Do you see it?" he asks excitedly.

"Did your nerdy friend happen to tell you what this constellation was called?"

"Uh. Ursula…something…I think. He said it was "the littler one" of the two."

"Ursa minor?" you posit. Steve snaps his fingers and points at you affirmatively.

"There you go! Do you see it?"

You shake your head. The name is familiar, but you don't remember what it's supposed to look like. You mostly slept through your astronomy class in high school. 

Suddenly, an arm drapes itself around your shoulders and pulls you in, and warm fingers caress the sides of your jaw, tilting your face further upwards. Apparently, Steve has decided that the best way to help you see what he sees is by manually guiding you in the proper direction, so he's pressed your bodies together and is trying to angle your head in just the right spot.

Your stomach flips, and your heart jumps into your throat. This time, you're worried you'll choke on it. You're sure Steve can feel the blush in your cheeks burning beneath his fingertips, but he's either too engrossed in Ursa Minor to care or is choosing not to mention it.

"Right…there. See?" Steve says, voice notably lower than before and now right against the shell of your ear. A shiver walks its fingers down your spine.

“O-Oh, yeah,” you stammer. You do see it, a tail of shimmering dots curling into a small rectangle of stars, but you're more focused on Steve's mouth right out of the corner of your eye, his lips parted and quirked up into a smile. His hair brushes against your cheek as he turns his head toward you, and his index finger presses itself against the curve of your jaw to encourage you to look at him.

His eyes shine in the moonlight, dark and kind, as they flit over the details of your face, lingering the longest on your lips. He's warm and solid against you, and you tentatively place your fidgety hand on his knee.

He's so beautiful, you think to yourself. It isn't a word you've ever used for the other men you've dated, but it fits Steve well. A square jaw still soft at the edges with youth, wide brown eyes framed by lashes so thick and long that they fan across his cheekbones when he blinks, full pink lips barely parted and pursed like he has something to say. Beautiful.

Steve’s finger slides down the edge of your face until it reaches your chin, pinching it between bent thumb and forefinger. He leans in close enough that you can feel his breath wash over your lips.

You, on the other hand, forget how to breathe entirely.

He hesitates, and you feel a tug in your stomach as the thought of him pulling away from you occurs. Does your breath offend? You did eat a lot of garlic bread at the restaurant. Maybe you should've packed gum in your purse -

"Is this okay?" he murmurs. You blink, a little caught off guard by the question.

“Huh?” Very astute.

“This,” he says, and his thumb presses itself briefly in the center of your bottom lip as if to punctuate what he means. “I mean…can I kiss you?”

You swallow hard to avoid swooning at the question and clear your throat. "Yes. Yes, please kiss me."

He barely even has to move to capture your lips, so softly at first, like he’s afraid you’ll suddenly change your mind if he applies more pressure. Electricity thrums beneath your skin, zapping every nerve you have until your entire body is lit up with excitement. Your free hand trembles as you rest it against his chest. His heart thumps wildly beneath your palm, indicating that Steve Harrington is just as nervous as you are right now. This helps you to relax a bit, strangely.

Steve's arm slides down from your shoulders to wrap around your waist and pulls you firmly against him. He smiles against your mouth as a contented sigh escapes you and pulls away just enough to mumble, "Still okay?"

You bunch up the fabric of his shirt in your fingers and bring your lips back together, kissing him with more fervor. He hums against your mouth, satisfied with his answer, and his smile grows almost imperceptibly.

When he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, you gasp, and his hand slips up to the nape of your neck and buries itself in your hair. He doesn't pull, just holds you firmly in place, and though the act is relatively small, its possessive nature makes you unconsciously sink into his touch. Your mind races with thoughts of what it would feel like if Steve did pull, just a little - how your neck would bend forward, how your eyes would be forced skyward, and how you'd have no choice but to arch toward him as he kept you where he wanted you.

He keeps you still as he pulls away, chuckling at the little mewl that falls out of your mouth at the lack of contact. He soothes you with kisses peppered down the expanse of your neck, pausing only to nip and lick at random spots of flesh. You moan breathily into his hair as he sucks on a patch of skin just above the neckline of your shirt, and your hand creeps even further up his thigh.

"If you give me a hickey…my mom will kill me," you breathe, and Steve snickers against your neck.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks. The thought is enough to make your stomach sink with dread. You shake your head ardently. He grazes his teeth against your throat, his satisfied grin tangible against your buzzing skin.

"I didn’t think so."

He makes his way back up to your lips after sucking another hickey into your flesh, this time thankfully below where your clothing can cover, and doesn't waste a second slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You swear you'll turn to liquid any second now and slip straight through Steve's fingers. Steve tastes faintly of tiramisu still, and you eagerly chase after the taste, your tongues sliding against each other. The hand in your hair glides down your spine and pauses above your ass. His fingers twitch hesitantly against the hem of his jacket, hiking it up only to smooth it back down several times. He waits for you to move to give him some indication that you want to go further.

So, you oblige him.

You pull away, a thin line of saliva connecting your lips. It's Steve's turn to whine at the empty space where your mouth used to be, and it's a sound that resonates right into the fingers still curled against his chest. It makes a feral heat stir in your belly, and you make a brief mental note to find what else elicits that noise from Steve Harrington's lips later.

You decide if there was any moment in your life to be bold - it's right now. You use the hand on his chest to nudge him up the hood of the car so his back is flush with the windshield, and before he can question what you're doing, you swing one leg over his lap and sit, straddling him.

He takes a surprised breath and smiles at you, the moonlight making his eyes shimmer like liquid bronze. You kiss him again, and he boldly reaches down and grabs two generous handfuls of your ass. With a groan, you roll your hips back into him, urging him to grab more, grab harder. 

Your hands grip either side of his slim waist and dip below the edge of his shirt. His skin is so warm compared to the chill of the evening, and you find yourself wanting to do anything to obtain more of his heat.

"Do you…wanna head inside the car?" he asks breathlessly, kissing the corners of your lips and down your jaw. "It's a lot more comfortable."

"I'm pretty comfortable right here," you say, and Steve laughs. He sits up straight and slots his hands under your knees, pulling you forward and down so you sit directly on his crotch. Despite the multiple layers of clothing between you both, you definitely feel something hard nudging at your inner thigh, and you let out a noise that's half surprise, half arousal.

"He's getting a bit restless if you catch my drift," Steve drawls, capturing your chin between his thumb and forefinger again. Your eyes flicker downward as if you’d be able to see with your legs and his jeans in the way. God, you want to see it, though, need to see it.

"'Course, if you're uncomfortable, we don't have to,” he says quietly, earnestly. “It’s up to you, Y/N.”

Your answer is to grind down on his dick hard enough that he pushes air out through his gritted teeth and grips your ass tighter. "Like I said," you purr against the shell of his ear, "I'm plenty comfortable."

Though Steve helps you back onto solid ground gingerly, there's a tautness to his muscles, a stiffness in how he moves that belies how desperate he is to get you into the car. He tries to adjust the front of his jeans casually, and you pretend to be staring into the treeline when he glances in your direction. You cock your head a bit in confusion when you notice him pull something long and thin out from below the backseat. It appears wooden, and the flared nub at the bottom is familiar enough that you realize it's probably a baseball bat. However, the top of the bat is oddly lumpy and seems to be covered in something spiky; you can't tell for sure what that could be because it's wrapped tightly in a tattered blue towel.  

He pops the trunk and throws it inside, acknowledging your puzzled expression after slamming it shut with a calm smile. "Lucille," he says simply. You decide you'll ask about it later. If you remember.

What you do remember, as soon as your back is nestled against the interior car door and Steve slots himself between your thighs, fingertips pushing the fabric of your skirt further up around your hips, is the conversation you had with Kesley.

"You know Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?"

You try to push the thought from your head by carding your fingers through Steve's hair, marveling at how soft it is while he plants kisses along your inner thighs. His lips brush across the intersection of your hip and thigh so gently that it makes you squirm a bit. Steve, despite your efforts, takes notice.

"Ticklish?"

"Uh. No?"

It's a lie. A bad one.

Steve smirks up at you and pushes your skirt past your pelvis, over your panties. Before you can stop him, his mouth is latched down over the sensitive juncture of your thigh, and you squeal in protest. Your breathless laughter and pleas for him to stop go unheeded, and he pins your writhing hips to the leather of the backseat so he can continue sucking a bright red hickey into your skin. Seemingly satisfied, he pulls off with a pop and strokes a finger over his handiwork. You bump his head with your knee, a halfhearted attempt to get him to stop prodding.

"Cute panties," he says lowly, and his finger follows the thick tendon that runs from your inner thigh to the edge of the cotton fabric. He drags the tip of it just underneath the seam of the gusset, pulling it far enough from your skin that it snaps back and makes you flinch. You remember agonizing over which pair to wear while you dressed - everything was too itchy, tight, plain, or extravagant for a first date. You only settled on the blush pink pair currently hugging your hips because they were the least offensive thing you could find.

You swallow hard, your hands fidgeting from their place atop your chest, and reflexively try to shut your legs. You're suddenly painfully aware of Steve staring at you, your most intimate part. A thin scrap of cloth is the only thing that separates your pussy from Steve Harrington's eyes, and while it's not like no one has ever seen you in states very similar to this, this time is…different. 

The butterflies in your stomach are hammering against your ribcage and fluttering into your lungs, threatening to cut off your air supply entirely. You're sure you're going to suffocate before he can make any further moves, and you're gonna pass out right in the back of Steve Harrington's car before he's even really done anything -

“Y/N?”

Steve's warm hand squeezing your hip pulls you from your thoughts. You pull the pooled fabric of your skirt up against your stomach so you can look at his face. His expression is hued with concern.

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?" His thumb rubs in small, soft circles above the purpling hickey on your thigh.

"Yeah! I'm totally fine, I just…sorry, I kinda got lost in thought."

"Are you sure? I can stop if you need me to, yanno, if you're feelin'...like, weird about any of this."

You shake your head and smile, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead. "I'm absolutely fine, Steve. I promise you. Did you say something before? I didn't hear you."

"I, uh…" He curls the tip of his finger beneath the gusset of your panties again, this time tugging experimentally. "Just wanted to know if I could take these off."

Your face is scorchingly hot, and if it weren't for the shadows cascading over the both of you, you’re sure Steve would laugh his ass off at the shade of red your cheeks have achieved. Any verbal response you might muster is lodged impossibly tight in your throat, so you just nod, let your legs fall further apart, and lift your hips off the seat so he can work your panties down your legs.

He does so with something akin to reverence, inching the fabric further and further off your body until his warm breath unfurls over your bare skin in deep, measured breaths. He carelessly tosses your panties somewhere in the front of his car, eyes transfixed on the spot between your legs. You're torn between wanting to yank your shirt collar over your eyes so you don't have to look at the deferent expression on his face, the damn near worshipful look in his dark eyes, and wanting to sit up to get an even better look at him.

"Wow… you're…fuck." Steve Harrington is at a loss for words because of you. You keep the glow of pride you feel at that fact to yourself…for now. You pull your legs back toward your chest, hooking one hand under your knee ditch to hold it steady and give him a better look. 

"Are you, uh…can I, like, eat you out?" he asks, and though part of you inwardly leaps for joy at the request, another part wants to suggest he do literally anything else.

You're being stupid, you chide yourself. Who gives a shit what Katie Kaspbrak or her stupid friends say? They're probably full of it anyway. Why are you entertaining the idea of telling Steve fucking Harrington he can't eat you out?

"Yes, please," you hear yourself breathe out despite your internal reservations. Steve smiles and raises a hand to replace the one keeping your leg pulled back. You take note of the way he licks his lips before he brings his mouth down against your pussy.

It's…well…it's interesting.

His tongue bypasses your clit completely and instead presses against your urethra, of all places. It isn't flat or relaxed; instead, a stiff pinpoint of muscle grinding uncomfortably into a spot that is decidedly not meant for that kind of stimuli. You shift, uneasy, but he seems to interpret it as a pleasured movement, which only spurs him on. He digs the tip of his tongue harder into your flesh, and you're grateful he can't see how your face is screwed up in distress.

Oh, God…oh, God. It really is awful. It's almost excruciating, and Katie Kaspbrak was fucking right. What do you do? What will he say if you tell him it's not good? Will he get embarrassed or hurt or even angry? Has anyone ever tried to tell him that this was wrong before?

You're conflicted and debating on just letting him finish up and possibly lying for the rest of time that Steve Harrington is a champion at eating pussy, until his tongue flicks upward and the unrelenting nub of his tongue stabs into your clit. You yelp involuntarily and yank your leg out of his hand, tightening your thighs. You press your fingers against your slit, hoping to soothe the throbbing ache Steve's harsh ministrations have brought on.

"What, what happened?" he asks, frantic, sitting up as much as he can in the confined space of the backseat.

He looks so much like a kicked puppy it's physically painful, maybe more painful than the burning sensation in your clit, and you consider for a moment just brushing it off as a leg cramp and letting him continue as if it's the best head in the world.

But you can't. You won't. If Steve doesn't know what he's doing wrong, he can't fix it, right? You just hope he's genuinely ignorant of how unrefined his skills are and not just overconfident and uncaring. The apologetic expression he's wearing is encouraging that it's the former.

"I…that hurt," you hiss between your teeth. "That hurt a lot."

"I'm so sorry," he says, reaching towards you instinctively, but then he seems to reconsider and takes his hands back. They rest atop his knees, clenching and unclenching, just like when he picked you up. "I…I thought that's what girls liked. I haven't…no one's told me any different, and I don't, like, have a bunch of practice - I mean, I've had practice, but no one's ever said anything before. I had no idea I was hurting you. I don't…I don't have to do that if you don't want it. I can do something else. I mean, Nance never really liked it when I did that either, so-"

He stops, eyes widening once it dawns on him what just came out of his mouth. Admittedly, you're a little shocked yourself. You attempt to keep your expression neutral to not make him feel worse, but you clearly fail because Steve cringes away when he catches a glimpse of your face.

"Shit…sorry. I shouldn't… it's not cool to bring up your ex on a first date. I know that. I'm sorry…Look, if you wanna go home, I get it. I kinda messed shit up, so I can-"

He's so fixated on his contrite ramblings that he doesn't notice when you sit up, nor when your hands cup either side of his face, and he only stops talking once you've pressed your lips against his, making it physically impossible. You feel the tension melt out of his body, and he tentatively grips your elbows.

"I'm fine," you start, leaning your forehead against his. His breaths escape in panicked, warm bursts against your lips. "I don't need to go home. I'm absolutely perfect here, with you. You didn't stab me with a burning hot poker or anything, so I'm doing pretty alright." The corners of his lips twitch upward in a sad suggestion of a smile. You should know better; you shouldn't ask about Nancy Wheeler even if Steve accidentally brought her up first, but you can't help the question that ripples from your lips.

"What do you mean, 'Nance never liked it?'" you ask carefully, and his muscles flex beneath your fingers. You're treading on thin ice. You rub your thumbs over his cheekbones, attempting to put him at ease and have his eyes meet yours.

"It's… it's stupid," Steve mutters, eyes downcast at his lap. "She…Nancy really, super hated it when I went down on her. I never thought about it too hard, I guess. I chalked it up to her being kinda uptight and just moved on, but now it makes way more sense. I suck. Of course, she hated it." He offers a dry, humorless sound you suppose is his attempt at a laugh.

"Did she ever, like…tell you what you were doing wrong?" you ask softly.

"Yeah…well, no, not exactly. I don't know. She'd usually just sit up and tell me she wanted to do something else, and when I asked what was up, she would just dance around the question, and we'd do something else and…I stopped trying after that. I should've asked questions."

"Well, you can ask them now. If you'd like."

Steve finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, and his eyes are markedly brighter than before. "If it's not too astoundingly lame…yeah, that'd be great. What exactly hurt about it? Was I too rough?"

"Partially that, and partially how rigid your tongue was," you giggle. "It feels much better if you loosen up. Think more like licking a lollipop than Vlad the Impaler."

Steve laughs sincerely at that one, and his head tilts forward to rest on your shoulder. "Vlad the Impaler, huh? That's pretty bad."

"It is, but it's nothing you can't improve on. I'll even let you practice if you want." Steve sits straight, his once crestfallen expression replaced with wide, hopeful eyes and a hint of a genuine smile on his lips.

"Seriously?"

"Mm-hm. I'll guide you through it, like, uh...like a pussy-eating professor."

 Steve snorts and kisses you briefly. His hands move to your hips in twitchy anticipation, unsure whether or not he should settle on your bare flesh or the hem of your skirt. It's almost like he suddenly doesn't know where to start. You decide for him; you lay your hands over his and guide them toward your body, bringing them up beneath your skirt and settling them on the bare skin of your hips.

"Give me a reason to tangle my fingers in that famous hair, pretty boy."

Without warning, you're pulled forward hard enough to fall unceremoniously onto your back, nearly thumping your head against the door handle. Steve almost concusses you in his excitement, but you can't bring yourself to care once you feel his breath washing over your exposed slit in warm, quick puffs. You sigh contentedly and thread your fingers through the hair at his temples.

"Loosen up, right?" he hums, and you make an affirmative noise high in your throat when you remember he can't see you nod.

"Start at the bottom," you say quickly, "and work your way up. Don't go straight for the clit, just-"

The sensation of Steve's hot, wet tongue licking a flat stripe up your cunt, slowly and carefully, makes your brain short-circuit. The instructions fizzle and die on your tongue, and you forget why you were speaking for a moment.

"Like that?"

"Huh? Yeah…yeah, like that. You don't have to just lick, either. You can like, um…suck on certain areas, like the lips and the - fucking shit -"

Steve is, apparently, a fast and very ambitious learner - before you can finish a complete sentence, he's applying your advice fucking beautifully. He licks another long, languid stripe up your pussy and sucks gently on your labia, tugging lightly with closed lips. Shifting his face upward, his nose grazes your clit, eliciting an unexpected moan. One hand flies above your head, fumbling for the handle on the car's roof for purchase, and you keep the other firmly planted in his hair.

"Still good?" His voice has an edge, much cockier now than it was just a few moments ago. He's so entertained by your reactions, and you don't know if it makes you mad, turns you on, or both. You decide that's not important because his mouth isn't on you anymore, and you can't stand for that.

"Fucking fantastic."

"Any more lessons to teach me?" he asks smugly. His hands are splayed across your inner thighs, spreading you open just slightly, and his thumbs are massaging your outer lips as he talks. His tone ignites something defiant within you. You push yourself up on your elbows and stare down at him evenly, meeting his eyes. His rediscovered confidence is undoubtedly hot, so hot you can feel your arousal starting to leak onto the upholstery beneath your ass, but it's in your nature to want to challenge him a little bit.

"Here's one," you rasp. You fist a hand into Steve's hair, gripping it tightly by the roots, and shove his face deeper into your cunt. You toss both legs over his shoulders and lock them at the ankles.

"Give that mouth something useful to do other than fuckin' talk."

You swear to everything holy, you hear Steve Harrington growl.

He dives into your pussy with renewed fervor, fingers still keeping you opened up for him, and laps at the rivulet of slick drooling out of your hole. Once the taste hits his tongue, he moans into you and pushes his face so deep you can feel the light stubble on his cheeks grazing your sensitive folds. 

Your back arches, lifting you almost entirely off the seats, and you bite your lip to stifle the noises threatening to burst from your throat. It's not to spare whatever stranger may or may not be lurking in the bordering forest but because your moans sound downright embarrassing. His tongue burns a wet trail from your weeping hole to your clit, where it laps experimentally at the swollen bud.

You twist and shudder beneath him, your body operating without input from your brain, but the feeling of Steve's hands slamming your hips down into the seats snaps you back to attention. You lift your head from its position against the car door, struggling to focus your eyes. Steve has laid himself as flat as he can across what little space remains in the backseat. His arms coil tight around your thighs, which keep both legs hanging limply over his shoulders. He stares up at you through his thick lashes, eyes gleaming hungrily, while he licks and sucks your pussy like it's the last meal he'll ever eat. His ordinarily perfect hair is trashed, sticking to his damp forehead in dark clumps.

You gnaw on your bottom lip stubbornly, clinging to what little rebellion still smolders inside you. Steve laughs; the vibrations feel like heaven against you, and you fling your head back down.

It isn't until his mouth has formed a near-vacuum seal around your clit that you unabashedly squeal into the humid air, unable to contain yourself anymore, pleasure wracking your body in unrelenting waves. Steve doesn't let up, swirling his tongue while he sucks, somehow keeping you glued to the seats without much apparent effort. You knew he was strong; he was an athlete the entire time you were in high school, but you didn't imagine his slender frame belied this much strength. The ease with which he's made you almost immobile is unexpected and very, very sexy.

"S-Steve, Steve - fuck - okay, God, you're getting me close already," you wheeze, voice straining high and desperate in your throat. You don't usually get close this fast unless you're alone and rubbing out a quick orgasm before bed or out of boredom. Still, the combination of his greedy suckling and licking, the sheer amount of enthusiasm he's displaying toward pleasuring you, and the fact that this long-held fantasy is coming to life right before you are making you hurtle toward the edge.

You inhale sharply, your body tenses, you're so, so close, you're about to cum -

Steve pulls off you, his lips making a wet, obscene pop before they curl into a fiendish grin. You whine, and he chuckles at you, rubbing your thigh apologetically. "You taste so fucking good," he says breathlessly.

"Why'd you stop?" you whimper. "And…thank you?"

"I'm having too much fun and didn't want you to cum yet," he says simply. "Plus, I wanted to ask something."

"Go for it."

You can't see them, but you can feel Steve's fingers on your pussy; his thumb makes a few small, tight circles around your clit before two more digits glide down the length of your folds and stop right at the entrance of your hole. They nudge around the rim as he speaks.

"Do you like getting fingered at the same time?" he asks, hopeful. "I know I'm at least good at that."

"Yes, please, do that," you beg, hardly letting him finish the sentence. You pause as the last part of Steve's sentence registers in your lust-addled brain. I know I'm at least good at that.

The corners of your mouth tug downward into a frown. Just as Steve ducks his head down again, you cup the sides of his jaw in both hands. He looks up at you, and the way his eyes flash nervously in the darkness doesn't escape you.

"By the way," you murmur, rubbing your thumbs into the stubbly flesh of his cheeks. "You've proven to be very…very good at…yanno, all this. Not just fingering."

"Yeah?" The hope in his voice is so genuine and sweet you could cry.

"Yeah. You just needed a little guidance, that's all."

He turns his head and kisses your palm, tracing circles into the back of your hand with his own before pulling it away and lacing your fingers together. Your interlocked hands rest next to your bare hip, and he presses a chaste kiss to your inner thigh. "Want me to get back to the, uh…fun part?"

You giggle. "I'm having a ton of fun, personally, but if you mean the eating my pussy part…yes, please."

"Gotcha."

Steve wastes no time reclaiming your swollen clit in his mouth, but he's decidedly gentler as he trails his two middle fingers around the rim of your hole. You can't tell if he's teasing you or testing the waters as he dips the tips inside you a few times, never edging past the first knuckles before pulling them back out again.

If he keeps this up, you’re going to go batshit insane. You're milliseconds away from telling him so before he swipes his fingers through the slick puddling beneath your pussy, and plunges them inside you up to the last knuckle.

"Oh my fucking God," you moan, writhing as much as possible while trapped between Steve's body and the car. His fingers curl, brushing against a spot that makes sparks fly behind your closed eyes, and he rubs against it purposefully once your voice pitches up and your breathing quickens even more. Both hands tangle in his disheveled hair, and you're torn on whether to push him away with how overwhelming the pleasure is becoming or pull him closer so he never stops. You settle on knotting your fingers at the roots and holding on for dear life.

Steve's fingers make lewd wet sounds as they pump in and out of your hole, and his free hand rests on the soft mound of skin above your clit. He pulls back just slightly, a stringy line of saliva connecting his tongue to your body, and his index finger stretches your skin up enough that the hood of your clit shifts backward. He chuckles.

"You should see how much of a mess your pussy is," he says. His tongue darts out to lick the slick shining on his lips. "It's so cute."

"Cute?" You don't know if that would've been the word you'd have picked to describe yourself right now, nor had anyone ever done so before. Despite the flush rising high on your cheekbones, you pretend to be more offended by it than you really are.

"Adorable," Steve coos, a smug smile sprawling across his handsome face. "And the noises you're making are even cuter. Have you been saving those just for me?"

You're speechless. You can't deny it, but you sure as hell aren't going to confirm it for him, either. His head will get so big you worry it'll fill the car's cab until you're both suffocated by the sheer mass of it. You sit up as much as you can against the car door, tugging the hand still woven with yours and smiling audaciously at him. You cross pinched fingers in front of your lips in a zipping motion, twisting them at the corner and flicking your wrist over your shoulder. My lips are sealed.

Steve scoffs. "Oh? We'll see how long that lasts, pretty girl."

Steve thrusts his fingers deep inside you again, fluttering them against your g-spot, then spits on your exposed clit. He dips his head and licks up the saliva trickling down your slit in one slow, hot strip, eyes never leaving your face.

You press your lips together tight, screwing your eyes shut and exhaling hard through your nose. Your legs are trembling, you're gripping his hand so tightly you're surprised he isn't complaining of bruised bones yet, and your chest is heaving with the effort of staying silent, but you're winning.

Or, at least, you think you're winning.

That is until he stuffs his fingers so deep inside you that it causes his hand to curl upward, almost cupping your cunt in his palm and grinding the heel of his hand into your tender clit. You can't help but gasp as he outright abuses your g-spot, rubbing circles against it with such pressure that even if you wanted to make noise, you can’t - the pleasure radiating from your core has snatched your voice away. You can't even draw in a satisfying breath and only manage a few sparse, shallow gasps.

"You done acting like you're not gonna give me what I want?" Steve asks, voice dripping with sweet condescension. You sob. It takes a stammering, whimpering, tear-filled moment before you gather enough oxygen to reply.

"U-Uh-huh, I'm - shit - I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, Steve…."

"Atta girl." Though his fingers don't relent in the brutal pace they've set, he does bend his hand down enough so he can lap at your clit again. Tears eke out of the corners of your eyes and drip slowly into your hairline, and when you find your voice again, it bursts out of you in a broken scream.

It takes thirty seconds of consistent attention before he's got you close again, and you warn him of that fact by whining and tugging on his hair.

"You gonna cum for me?" he huffs, breath washing over your sensitive skin.

"Y-Yes, yes, yes, fuck - oh fuck me, Steve -!"

"Soon, baby," he hums.

Your orgasm crashes into you full force, and your throat burns with the force of your wailing as you arch off the backseat; you guarantee you're pulling some of Steve's hair out with how tight your grip is, but he is decidedly unfazed. He milks this moment for all its worth, never stopping or slowing in his ministrations.

Tears flow down your cheeks freely, soaking into the neck of your shirt and wetting the hair you'd spent so much time on. The pleasure crescendos into something too intense to handle quickly. You choke out a few half-assed pleas, your brain melting out of your ears at this point, far beyond being capable of intelligible sentences, and Steve ignores you.

Clearly, you don't decide when Steve Harrington is done - he does.

Your orgasm seems to go on for days, months even, and just as the pain begins to nip at the edges of your earth-shattering pleasure, as you almost snap your legs shut and beg Steve to please just give you a small break, you feel it. 

Your second orgasm. Building, apparently in secret, riding the tails of your first one and sneaking up on you to the point you don't notice you're going to cum until your cunt spasms around Steve's fingers again.

"C-C-Cumming, cumming again, fuck, oh God, fuck, I can't - Steve, I can't-"

"Yes, you can," Steve assures, fingers working impossibly faster. You're astonished he doesn't have the mother of all hand cramps right now. Perhaps he does, and he just doesn't care. You don't think you care, either. "You can cum for me again, Y/N. Come on. Cum on my fingers, pretty girl."

This time, you don't even have the strength to scream. You weep and sag against the car door, body tremoring and barely managing a few pathetic pleas between hiccuping breaths.

You're drenched in sweat, and you're sure your makeup is fucked because of it. That and the tears, of course. You must look utterly trashed, but when Steve finally pulls off your poor, sore pussy with a pop, he looks at you like you're the single most beautiful creature on the planet.

He goes to wipe his lips with the back of one hand, and you notice slick shimmering down his chin and even splattered onto his neck. It's only then you feel the absolute lake of cum that’s accumulated beneath your ass, and your entire body burns bright red with embarrassment. He raises himself up on his palms, his arms boxing you in tightly.

"You are so gorgeous," he says, cupping your cheek in the hand that isn't glistening with your cum. You laugh shakily and lean into his touch.

"Sorry… 'bout your seats," you offer weakly, and he shakes his head. "You can ruin my upholstery anytime."

Steve leans down, dark eyes scanning your face, and smiles. It's a sweet, lopsided expression, nowhere near the self-satisfied, almost sadistic grin from earlier. They both quicken your pulse, but this one assures you you can at least take this moment to recover from possibly the best orgasm of your life.

First and second-best orgasms. Wow.

He kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. He slots his leg between yours, narrowly avoiding the puddle you've made, and cradles your head as if he's the only thing keeping it from flopping sideways. Frankly, he is. When he pulls away, he kisses your forehead before leaning his own against it.

"You okay?" he asks. You nod, sighing and swallowing despite your parched mouth. Your hands rest atop your chest, curled up into each other meekly as you try to regain any semblance of strength in your extremities. You bump your lips into him again briefly.

"You're a remarkably fast learner, Steve Harrington," you mumble, voice hoarse. He chuckles. 

"It's easy when I have such an incredible teacher.”

It takes a few minutes to clean you - and the car - up. Steve digs around in his glove box for some old fast food napkins and gingerly sops as much of your cum out of his seats as he can while you lay on your side, curled up and heavy-lidded as the adrenaline slowly dribbles out of your system. He dabs the sweat from your brow, following the rough, cheap napkin with gentle kisses to soothe your flushed skin. Afterward, he bunches the napkins and shoves them in his passenger side door before rejoining you in the backseat. 

He hoists you up onto his lap and guides your head onto his shoulder, allowing you to nuzzle your face into his neck and inhale his scent as he rubs your back.

"Any more pointers?" he asks just before you've dozed off. You smile and shake your head.

"None whatsoever. You've exceeded my greatest expectations, dear pupil." He laughs and thumps your back appreciatively. It's not until you're readjusting slightly to get more comfortable that you realize something - Steve is still hard. Achingly so, it would seem, as you can feel the rigid denim stretched over his bulge so tightly you're surprised the zipper hasn't popped clean off. Heat stirs in your belly, and you make a soft, serene noise in your throat as you grind your bare pussy into his lap.

His hips stutter upward just enough for you to bounce slightly, and you giggle into the crook of his neck. "We still haven't taken care of you yet." "We don't have to if you're too tired," he assures you, voice little more than a deep hum against the shell of your ear. "I'm happy just makin' you feel good."

You consider it. You know you'll be sore tomorrow, regardless of if you choose to have more of Steve Harrington stuffed inside you, and your clit is throbbing and achy to the touch. You could fall asleep on his chest right now; he could keep you in this beautiful, dreamlike space for the rest of time if he wanted to. But there's a part of you, a part much, much louder than the part complaining about your sore slit or exhausted body, that is dying to know what Steve's dick looks like.

You leave a trail of kisses up from the hollow of his neck to the curve of his jaw and blink at him happily. Once your faces are close enough that his eyelashes are nearly tickling your cheekbones, you snake one hand between your bodies and trail a finger over the cold metal teeth of his zipper.

"Just 'cause my cunt is sore doesn't mean I'm totally out of commission," you purr. "And since you did so well with your mouth on me… don't you think it's fair I return the favor?"

You feel, rather than hear, the low moan that rumbles through Steve’s chest at the insinuation. You hook your nail through the eye of his zipper and give an experimental tug.

"Can I suck your cock, Steve?"

His lips are on yours almost before the question rolls off your tongue. His fingers tangle in your hair, keeping you still as his tongue explores inside your mouth. Steve's natural taste mixes with the taste of your slick in an intoxicating way, but just before your head starts spinning, he breaks the kiss enough to breathe, "You're gonna have to move, baby."

Of all the lewd, downright filthy things Steve Harrington has done and said tonight, the way he slurs the word "baby" against your swollen lips is the thing that makes you blush the hottest.

He reaches behind you and opens the car door, and you both shiver slightly as the cold air rushes in from the forest and cools your sweat-soaked skin. He pats your thigh and juts his chin forward, so you awkwardly clamber out of the BMW despite your wobbling legs. You lean one hand on the car's roof while Steve scoots to sit on the edge of the backseat and swings his legs onto the ground.

He brushes past you as he emerges from the car, planting a quick kiss on the top of your head before he pops the trunk and struggles with something inside for a moment. With a victorious smile, Steve waves the same raggedy blue towel that had been wrapped around "Lucille" before assuming his spot in the backseat again. He folds it in half once and lays it out between his spread legs atop the mud and sparse grass you're standing on.

"So you don't get your legs all dirty," he explains, observing your mildly confused expression.

"My legs?"

"It'd be killer on your back, sucking my dick while you're bent at the waist, wouldn't it?" Steve laughs, undoing his belt with deft fingers while he watches the realization dawn on you. "The least I can do is make you more comfortable and keep the mud and crap off your legs, right?"

“Yeah…totally…”

Words escape you as you watch the metal of Steve's belt buckle glitter in the moonlight while he slips the leather out of the loop. His shirt is riding up just far enough onto his stomach that you can see a dark thatch of hair leading upward from the hem of his jeans, and at that moment, you are determined to follow Steve's happy trail with your tongue at some point. As he pops the button on his pants, you release your grip on the car and collapse to your knees. You grab his hands and pull them out of the way, splaying your fingers across his thighs and squeezing.

"Let me," you say, eyes darting between his mostly undone jeans and his face. He chuckles at you, and you try to commit his crooked, sweet smile and warm brown eyes to memory. He's beyond handsome, drop-dead fucking gorgeous - and he's letting you suck his cock. You take a moment to thank whatever deity or greater cosmic force that's brought you to this exact moment in your life.

"Be my guest," Steve says, leaning back on his palms and staring down the bridge of his nose at you. You lean forward, using the grip on his legs to keep balance and capture the end of his zipper between your teeth. You drag it down agonizingly slowly while keeping complete eye contact with him. You can't look away from his amazed and steadfastly aroused face. Pants fully unzipped, you think you can make out that Steve is wearing dark red boxer briefs.

Very normal, all things considered, but you know in the back of your head that this particular shade of red will always make you horny now - Pavlov's dogs had their bell, and you drool at the sight of Steve Harrington's underwear.

Steve lifts his ass off the backseat just enough for you to tug his pants and boxers down to his knees. You could pull his cock out through his underwear, but no, you want to see all of him, every last inch. Fair is fair, right? 

Steve is…fuck, he's big. Bigger than you ever even fantasized about. 

His cock springs upright fully after you've freed it from his boxers, and with a hard swallow and a fluttery feeling in your gut, you realize it's big enough to touch his navel. It curves toward his belly, an angle so perfect it's impossible not to imagine how it'll feel inside you once you can handle it. The head is flushed a dark red and slick with precum, and you watch in reverence as a milky bead forms at the slit. It's all you can do to not surge forward immediately and lick it off. The hair covering the base of Steve's dick and balls is dark, nearly black, and unexpectedly curly compared to the other hair on his body.

You reach a tentative hand out and wrap it around his shaft. He's so thick your fingers barely touch once you've made a fist. Steve hisses at the feeling and drops his head back a little.

"You're…so fucking big," you say breathlessly. Steve laughs and cards a hand through your hair, brushing sweaty strands away from your forehead. 

"You think you're gonna be able to handle it?" His voice drips with fake sympathy, so you nod your head despite being unsure. The head is so big you worry you won't be able to fit it in your mouth without your back teeth accidentally scraping it, let alone have it go down your throat. But the cocky, smug look he wears makes you want to suck his dick until he cries, just like you did. 

You nudge his shirt further up his torso, noting how solid his abdominal muscles feel beneath your palm, and dip your head down to his happy trail. You lay soft kisses amongst the thick, coarse hair, and Steve subtly squirms.

"Ticklish?" you ask. He narrows his eyes.

"Don't even think about it."

You chuckle, sorely tempted.

You copy his actions from earlier and lick a long, hot stripe with your flattened tongue up the entire length of his cock, stopping only to swirl around the head and lap up his precum. The salty taste blooms across your tongue and your mouth embarrassingly floods with drool as you suck and lick more of the flavor into it. You inch carefully down his shaft, opening your jaw as wide as possible to avoid an encounter between his dick and your molars and twirl your tongue around the length in your mouth to make up for what you can't wholly swallow yet. One hand wraps around the base to make up the difference, stroking up and down slowly as you bob your head.

It's an interesting, intricate dance, trying to fit Steve Harrington's monster cock in your mouth without outright biting it. You persuade your gag reflex to let him go down your throat a bit more, your quick strokes getting slicker and slicker with the drool that pours freely down Steve's dick and wets his pubic hair. Breathing through your nose proves difficult when his massive cockhead obstructs the back of your throat entirely, but you manage well enough.

Steve is absolutely beside himself. He's moaning unabashedly, and it's like music to your ears. He's the first man you've ever been with who makes noises outside of oddly paced-out grunts or a random curse word here or there, and it's having more of an effect on you than you ever could have imagined. You press your thighs together as more slickness drips from your throbbing cunt, free to gush almost to your knees without the interference of your panties. 

"Fuck, baby, fucking shit…fuck yeah, just like that… you're sucking my cock so good, you look so fucking hot right now, oh my God," Steve babbles, eyes fluttering and head lolled over to one side. He bucks his hips, probably involuntarily, and his cock bumps the back of your throat just hard enough that it makes you gag.

You cough and pull off him far enough to take a breath, your hand still firmly locked around his base and wet with spit. He laughs breathily and caresses your cheek as you pant.

“Sorry…sorry…I didn't mean to choke you. You're just… you're so good…."

"You can, uh…like, do that again if you want," you say shyly. Steve cocks an eyebrow.

"Do what?"

"That. What you just did. Again."

"You want me to gag you like that again?" It's said with genuine surprise, not judgment, and you smile sheepishly at him.

"Kinda, yeah…only if you're okay with it too, I just…I can handle it…."

He considers it, absently twirling a few strands of your hair around his fingers as he mulls your request over. Then, both hands slide to the back of your head and gather your hair into one large, tight handful that makes you sit up straighter. Cold air gusts against your freshly exposed skin, and you shiver as Steve leans forward and kisses your forehead. He uses his other hand to pull his jacket tighter around your body, tucking the collar against your throat.

"If you can handle it," he says, and with one smooth push, he's shoved you back down on his cock. The head bumps the back of your throat hard, and though your entire body jerks forward as you gag, Steve doesn't relent. He seems as determined as you were to fit the daunting length of his dick down your throat, and the fact you practically begged him to facefuck you appears to have dissolved any lingering inhibitions he may have had. He keeps one hand securely fisted in your hair, and the other moves to feel where his length is bulging through your throat. He hums lowly and strokes his fingers over your taut flesh.

"You can take more than that, can't you?"

You haven't even begun to respond before he thrusts his hips forward, forcing his way past your uvula, and you can only gag and shudder as your nose gets buried in the thick curls at the base of his cock. He guides you back by your hair only far enough that his head isn't bullying into your airway anymore, then pushes you back down - he does this over and over, hardly letting you have a moment to breathe while he chases his pleasure. You moan as you realize you've essentially become a means to an end, a method of reaching an orgasm, a warm, wet hole for Steve to fuck his cock into, and your fingers sneak down between your thighs to rub your aching clit.

Though you try to be discreet, you're soaked, and you can't do a thing to hide the obscene squelching sounds your pussy makes as you grind into your hand. Steve, with sweaty hair plastered to his forehead and drunk on lust, laughs.

"You're so fuckin' cute. You like bein' my cocksleeve that much, pretty girl?" You attempt a nod and a noise that leans toward acquiescence, and it's good enough.

Steve sets a rigorous pace, bringing you down far enough to kiss his pelvis every time, moaning a little louder when the muscles of your throat contract around his thick shaft as you gag. You are, admittedly, worried you'll puke at some point, and the thought of having arguably the best sexual experience of your life ruined by you blowing chunks all over Steve Harrington's penis does, unfortunately, cross your mind. But before you can dwell too long on it - and before the building nausea becomes too much for you to handle - Steve pulls you off his cock.

Your lips pop wetly as they leave his shaft, and you gasp shakily, the sudden influx of oxygen almost dizzying. Drool drips freely from your aching jaw and the thick strand of saliva that connects your mouth to the head of his dick glints in the moonlight overhead. Your fingers never stop working your clit, though your orgasm ebbs away after your throat ceases to be utterly abused.

"Why'd you stop?" you rasp.

"Was gonna cum too soon," he chuckles. You whine and surge forward, but you're stopped by the firm hand still ensnared in your hair. You crave the taste of Steve's cum on your tongue so intensely, and the fact he isn't letting you have it right away fills you with tantrum-level frustration.

"What, you want it?"

"Yes, Jesus Christ, please."

"Aww. You can beg much better than that." His fingers curl, tugging your hair at the root and jostling you back and forth a little.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as he starts dragging you further away from his shining, dark-red cock. Drool and precum ooze from the tip and you can see it twitching every few seconds, and though your throat feels raw and sore, your jaw aches, and your legs are alight with pins and needles, you need it back in your mouth. You could kneel here all night, and you would swear you were in heaven. The brazen fire in your belly has been snuffed, replaced with the most thrilling need you've ever experienced, so you can't think of anything snarky to say in response. Instead, you do as Steve says, and you fucking beg.

"Please, please give it back, Steve."

"Give what back, baby?" he purrs.

"Your cock."

"What about my cock?"

"Please give me back your cock, Steve. Pretty please, I need it."

He clicks his tongue at you, giving your head a little shake again while your eyes are helplessly fixed on his glistening shaft. "Hmm, I still don't believe you."

A broken sob falls from your mouth before you can help it, and you paw helplessly at his thighs. "Please, please, please, fuck my face, Steve, please. I need it so badly. Please give it to me. I'll do anything, just please...."

He smiles and coos at you, bending down slightly to kiss your forehead softly. "You sound so pretty and pathetic for me, baby," he hums.

Your mouth is full again in a flash, and this time, it's evident that Steve has surpassed any pretense of being gentle with you. That clumsy, nervous boy from earlier has melted away, leaving this commanding, exceedingly bold, and surprisingly dominant man in his wake. His voice has lowered to just above a growl, rough with lust. The way he's reclining back and fucking your mouth like he's pumping into his fist, the way he teases and mocks you and eggs you on - it's fucking intoxicating. You can't get enough. You want him to go further; you want more, more, more.

"Fuck, fuck, 'm cumming, I'm fucking cumming, fuck Y/N," Steve gasps, placing both hands on the sides of your head and driving his cock down your battered throat. The heat of your impending orgasm begins to pool between your hips, and you rub your clit furiously as you gaze up at Steve, trails of mascara-riddled tears tracked down your spit-wet cheeks.

The exact moment his cock pulses and the first hot, thick rope of cum shoots down your throat, you push yourself over the edge of your third orgasm of the night.

You moan as much as you can around his dick, body spasming uncontrollably, and the vibrations from your noises make him grip the seats beneath him so hard you think he’ll shred the upholstery. You try to swallow as best you can, and Steve does mercifully pull out just enough that the head of his cock rests against the middle of your tongue, allowing you room to breathe. His cum is salty and heady, and you're immediately addicted to it, and you hollow your cheeks to greedily suck more of it into your mouth. He looks at you with worshipful adoration, like you are the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Your hand drops from your overstimulated clit as your orgasm abates, and you use it to hold onto Steve's thigh for balance. You distantly feel embarrassed about smearing slick on his jeans.

When Steve pulls his spent cock from your mouth and releases your bunched-up hair, you fall forward unceremoniously into his lap. You pant raggedly into the fabric clustered around his upper legs, trembling like you've been tossed in the snow. He praises you under his breath, almost like he's not entirely cognizant of what he's saying.

"You did such a good job, God, that was amazing…you did so well, baby…fuck…."

You smile dreamily, glowing under his praise. He pets your hair absentmindedly, and after a while, he gingerly guides you back so you're sitting on your haunches, the rough terrycloth of the towel digging into your knees. He looks beautiful in the bluish light of the evening, hair mussed and sticking out at odd angles, cheeks still dusted a light pink, lips swollen and red and wet with his spit. Steve cradles your face in his hands and rubs at the greyish tear tracks streaking your cheeks, almost embarrassed of their presence.

"Are you okay?"

You nod sluggishly, nuzzling your cheek into Steve's surprisingly rough palm. He smooths the frazzled hair he'd been tugging on so enthusiastically back away from your damp forehead, fluffing it apologetically once he realizes the style you'd sought to achieve is thoroughly ruined. You're sure you look destroyed, to be fair - most of your lipstick is smeared messily on the lower half of Steve's softening cock, so you imagine the rest of it is smudged down your chin and across your cheeks. When you wipe the back of your hand beneath your jaw to catch a few stray tears, your skin is stained blackish from the mascara-laden liquid. Definitely not Harrington-proof, you note amusedly.

"Lemme help you up," Steve says, scooting forward off the backseat and bending toward you. One arm snakes around your waist and tightens against the small of your back; the other hand knits itself against your right hand, and when Steve pulls you to your feet, you're pressed flush against his chest, bodies entwined like partners gliding across a dance floor. Despite everything that's happened in the last hour, you still giggle nervously at the lack of distance between your face and Steve's. He smiles sweetly, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

The hand clasped in Steve's twitches toward your lips reflexively. Your mouth still tastes like his cum, and while you certainly don't mind, you aren't sure if he will. He notices your hesitance, and after a moment, the reason seems to click for him. His smile grows imperceptibly.

Steve takes your face in both hands and kisses you deeply, licking your bottom lip before sliding his tongue against yours. Your already weakened knees wobble, threatening to let you drop like a ton of bricks right back to the rumpled towel beneath your feet. The tangy taste of your cunt still lingers on his tongue and mixes with the salty flavor coating your mouth; it's addictive, and for a moment, it tricks you into thinking you could go just one more round. The way your clit throbs painfully at the mere insinuation, however, quickly dispels that idea.

Steve presses a final, sweet kiss to the tip of your nose after he pulls away from your lips, and the way his eyes sparkle at you in the moonlight dashed across his face makes your stomach flip excitedly, a sensation you're almost embarrassed to feel. It seems too innocent, too chaste after everything you've done tonight, but your cheeks flush hotly regardless.

"You…are something else," Steve says quietly, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your cheek.

"You're one to talk."

You turn your head toward his palm, kissing his warm skin. The yellow-green light of his watch glows out of the corner of your eye, and when he twists his wrist a bit to the side, you catch a glimpse of the numbers.

No. No, that can't be right.

Steve makes a discordant sound as you yank his arm back toward your face, pushing his sleeve up to his elbow. You must've read the time wrong; it can't be that late.

But there it is, clear as day, in blocky electric numbers. Your curfew, which you've never broken, passed almost half an hour ago.

Your heart plummets down through your stomach, and you swear you hear it plop into the dirt at your feet.

"I'm so dead," you murmur, and Steve cocks his head quizzically.

"What?"

"I'm dead!"

You scramble toward the rearview mirror and tug it upward. You look absolutely wrecked. How will you explain why ninety percent of your makeup is gone? Why your hair looks like you've just gone through a tornado? Steve huffs out a confused laugh.

"Am I…missing something?" he asks, leaning casually against the side of the car. You tug the collar of your shirt up and scrub at your mouth - it makes your lipstick look worse and stains the inside of one of your favorite tops. Shit. You frenziedly try to work the buttons on Steve’s jacket closed, desperately tugging the collar up in an attempt to conceal the rapidly deepening red blotches he’s sucked into your skin. They’ll bruise by tomorrow, and if you weren’t in a blind panic, the thought would turn you on. Admittedly, it still does.

"I'm so, so late. My mom is gonna kill me," you say frantically. Maybe it'll be dark enough that no one will notice your lipstick…but they'll definitely see the black trenches carved into your cheeks. Shit.

You turn to the side, trying to tame your hair into a halfway decent shape. It doesn’t work, and you exhale roughly through your nose; the scrunchie you always wear around your wrist is snatched off, and you twist your hair into possibly the sloppiest, worst bun you’ve ever created, but it’ll have to do. Every single aspect of your appearance is like a bright red, flaring neon sign blinking above your head, ready to announce I HAD HOT SEX, AND THAT’S WHY I’M SO INCREDIBLY LATE.

You know it shouldn't matter; she doesn’t have much recourse since you're an adult, but fear still pangs in your gut so hard it makes you nauseous. You can picture it now, tiptoeing into the living room just to have the lamp in the living room flicker to life, your enraged and concerned mother silhouetted in the dim yellow light. You're sure you'll be able to see the steam rolling off her body in waves from where you'll be standing at the landing of the stairs. You'll be lucky if she lets you leave for the supermarket after this, let alone on another date.

"Shit, is it really that late?" Steve asks, and how his voice pitches up in genuine confusion only aids your panic. He bounds to the driver's side of the car, almost tripping over his feet as he fumbles the keys from his pocket and slams them into the ignition. Your butt barely touches the passenger side seat before the engine roars to life, and Steve slams on the gas.

Apologies tumble freely from his mouth as you clumsily clip your seatbelt into place, and you assure him it's alright as best you can while licking your fingers and scouring the mascara stripes off your cheeks. It doesn't work and tastes weird, but it's all you've got.

~~~

When Steve screeches up your driveway, you are an hour past curfew, and that’s only by the grace of God and Steve’s disregard for speed limits. 

You sling your purse strap over one shoulder and almost kick the passenger side door off its hinges as you get out of the car, but just before you're about to bolt up your driveway, you pause.

It wouldn't kill you to be just a little later, right?

You whip back around, and Steve stares up at you, a little breathless, flushed, and still so beautiful. You grip the edge of the window and bend down, poking your head inside the car.

"I had an amazing time," you say, and you wish Steve wouldn't smile at you the way he does because it makes you want to say, "Fuck it," and hop back in the car. But he does, and you don't, and he nods.

"You wanna do it again sometime? I mean, not, not it, like a date - well, we can do it again if you want to. I'm just saying we don't have to…."

He sighs, and you pretend not to notice the flexing and unflexing of his hands on the steering wheel. It's endlessly endearing how nervous he is when he isn't jamming his cock down your throat or eating you out like a starving man. Something in your mind wants to see how flustered you can make him, but you silence it.

"Such a way with words," you tease, and you cup his cheek in your hand. You kiss him tenderly, hoping it encapsulates everything you want to say but don't have time for right now. Fingers slide up the nape of your neck and ensnare themselves in your hair, keeping your lips locked for a few moments longer. Your mouth is swollen and chapped, but you'd kiss him all night if he'd let you. Maybe one day he will.

"I'd love to do this again, by the way," you hum against the corner of his mouth. "Assuming I live past tonight, that is."

"Looking forward to it, Y/N. Oh, and, by the way…."

He grips your hair, not too hard, but just enough to where you stiffen and let out a soft moan. He peppers kisses along your cheek, to your temple, to the shell of your ear.

"I'm keeping your panties. Maybe next time I'll shove 'em in your mouth if you try to play the quiet game again with me."

He releases his grip on your hair, and his hand purposefully slides along the curve of your jaw until it reaches your chin. He pinches it between thumb and forefinger and kisses the bewildered, now painfully aroused look off your face before leaning back, giving you a wink, and revving the car's engine.

"See you soon, baby," he calls. His car crunches back down your driveway, and you're left standing there, brain short-circuiting and threatening to melt out of your ears, hyperaware of the cold night air nudging against your bare pussy under your skirt. You press your thighs together and jam fabric between them self-consciously, hoping against hope that you won't flash your poor, unsuspecting mother, who is undoubtedly waiting for you to chew you out.

You turn unsteadily, gazing up at your house. The living room light is already on, and you can see a lithe shadow flitting anxiously from within the windows. You're going to get an earful.

It was so. Fucking. Worth it.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things #stranger things smut #steve harrington / reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #fem!reader #f!reader #smut #my writing #funny how love is series

[rottenaero]

AO3

Part 1

Part 3

Part 5

Part four of roommates idea

The officer clicked his pen again, signaling he took to long to answer. Steve faced him again, “Sorry I- Shit. Eddie he wasn't- he wouldn't do this shit. He's afraid of fucking dogs. Not even the real big ones either, he definitely wouldn't kill someone. He cries when he watches Bambi and gore freaks him out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! I'm absolutely-fucking-positive! He looks all tough and shit but he's not, he's just scared. Fuck that sounds- so bad but- God why don't you believe me and Wayne?”

The officer sighs, ”Eddie sold drugs, did drugs, it's entirely possible he had to many and did something…Not entirely in his regular character.”

Steve bit his lip, “He wouldn’t.”

-

Steve sat in the family video, he's been distant since the shift started and Robin couldn’t understand why.

That was, until the TV showed the news of a Hawkins student dying. Did he somehow know?

Not much later, Max and Dustin came in yelling about phones, and were quick to start using them.

Steve didn’t even seem shocked when they talked about Eddie being accused. When they finally got a lead about a ‘Reefer Rick’, his eyes lit up.

“I know where he is.”

-

“Hello?”

Steve looked around the boathouse, “What a dump.”

His eyes landed on tarp covering a boat, “Eddie?"

“Eddie, are you here?"

Now, Steve wasn't an expert, but that tarp looked a lot like it just moved, and if it wasn’t Eddie then-

He grabbed an oar that was leaning against the wall, and began poking it.

“What are you doing?”

“It moved.”

“So take the tarp off!”

Steve gave Dustin an incredulous look.

“If you're so brave, why don’t you take the tarp off!”

It was silent for a moment, then-

“…Steve?”

The man in question let out a relieved sigh, and smiled. “Eds!”

Steve drops the oar, a resounding clatter banging off the walls as he flings the tarp off the boat.

And there he is, Eddie Munson in all his glory, sitting in a fetal position and clutching a broken bottle to his chest like a lifeline.

As soon as he seemed to see Steve, he quickly threw the bottle to the side and stands up to step out the boat.

“Steve, thank fuck.”

Eddie engulfs him in a hug, pressing his face into his neck.

Steve bites his lip, “Hey, hey its okay.”

Steve slid them down carefully, positioning his back against a column. It was a bit awkward, with them being similar height, but he made it work.

“She- I didn’t kill her! I don’t, she started fucking floating. Then her limbs snapped, god Stevie, please you gotta believe me.”

He looked over to the party, Robin’s eyebrows were pinched, Max was darting her eyes between the two, and Dustin looked like he was about to say something.

Finally, he gathered the courage. “ Eddie, we believe you. What you saw, it’s been happening for years. Well, not this particularly but the supernatural.”

Eddie peeked his head out, “ What do you mean?”

Dustin crouches down awkwardly, hands together. “Theres another world. Its kind of like this one, but its terrifying. There are things there. Its called the upside down. We’ve been fighting it since 1983 when Will went missing.“

Steve feels him tense. “ ‘We?’ ‘Fighting?’, How do you fight an invisible force?”

“Demogorgons, demodogs, government people, russians. We’ve had to face them for years. Steve and I were there in 1983, Max in 1984, and Robin just joined in last year with the Russians and the mall.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, and he turned his head slightly to face Steve. “ Is that why you were so beat up last year?”

Steve shrugged, “ Yeah. Pretty much.”

Eddie burrowed his head into his neck again. “ Jesus H. Christ.”

“Look, we’re here to help you Eds, that murder in the trailer? They were asking me questions, they think its you. Wouldn’t let up on the idea no matter how much I insisted it wasn’t.”

Eddie looked at Steve with a mix of fear and gratitude, “What do we do? Can’t exactly waltz up and tell them it’s supernatural.”

Steve hummed, “We need to figure out what happened to that Chrissy, and clear your name.”

Max stepped forward, “We’ll help you, Eddie. We’ve faced worse than this.”

Eddie nodded, “Okay. Shit, we’re really doing this..”

Robin glanced around, “Not to interrupt or anything, but maybe we should do the whole story? Like, you guys didn’t even mention the super power girl, and shes like major isn’t she?”

The long haired metalhead nodded, giving Steve a squeeze before letting go and standing.

He turned to face Robin a grimace on his face, “ Right, yeah, full story. Super power girl, sure.”

Steve patted his shoulder, when did he even get up, and after a second, bumped him with his hip.

“Buckle up, Eds. This is gonna take a while.”

Tag-list

@bxlthazar @i-have-three-feelings

#steve:heys eds. Im back from dustins- #*sees chrissy’s body #Steve: Ah fuck #steve:I can’t believe you’ve done this #god bless italics #*eagle screech* #dialogue heavy #stranger things ficlet #ficlet #steddie ficlet #steddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #season four now #steddie meeting pre-four is a favorite trope of mine #robin buckley #max mayfield #dustin henderson #crisisinverted17 #crisisinverted17's roommate au

[hotluncheddie]

Day 4: Edging

"Bi Freak"

Ao3

wc: 3.5 | rated: E | tags: Sub Eddie Munson, established relationship, bisexual Eddie Munson & Steve Harrington, mean dom Steve Harrington (kinda), degradation, sub top Eddie

written for @subeddieweek <3

📸 📸 📸 📸 📸

‘Jesus, are you hard?’ Steve asks, incredulous at how fucking ridiculous Eddie’s cock can be at times. Even walking just behind him Steve must spot how Eddie’s hands shift to tug at his belt buckle, the way his gait is a little more awkward than usual.  

Eddie freezes, readjusting again as Steve saunters past. Cheeks feeling a little hot over being caught. He was Subtle, or so he thought, but his jeans must just not be tight enough to hide his boner. 

They're walking back to the beamer after eating at the diner in town. A few familiar faces around since its summer. The two of them included, back over from Indi for a visit to see Wayne for his birthday. 

Unfortunately, seeing Wayne means staying with Wayne and while that is wonderful, the walls of the trailer are still, absolutely, the width of paper mache. So, Steve had decided the concept of sex was much too mortifying in those conditions. A different consensus from when they first got together, Eddie had pointed out. But, Steve had just laughed and kissed him, in that condescending way that just made the whole situation so so much harder, figuratively and literally.

Its been a week, basically, and Eddie’s getting desperate, and Steve is getting mean. 

Eddie jogs to catch up to Steve's long strides. ‘Did you see her though? Christ Steve she, she's a vision. A fucking goddess dude.’ 

‘I saw I saw.’ Steve shoves his hands in his jacket, Eddie looming in close at his side.

‘Like she was something then, but now? Bigger and better, did you see? You saw them right?’ Eddie moves his arms around, cups his hands, clenches his fingers. A horny interpretive dance. 

Steve sighs, faux wistfully. ‘Every day I almost forget how much of a tits guy you are, and everyday you just gotta remind me, huh? Munson? What's up with that?’ Steve jabs his elbow into Eddie’s side. Grins at the cackle it elicits. 

‘You know I fundamentally disagree with that question, Stevie. No one should be subjected to a choice like that.’ Eddie laughs, swooping in close to Steve's neck for a moment, in that way he loves. Steve’s elbow coming out to make him back away. 

Steve pulls his keys out of his pocket, the car coming into view, parked in the furthest corner. 

‘Your tits are amazing by the way.’

Steve laughs again. ‘Thanks dude, I know. Lucky for you my ego is big enough to handle your crazy libido.’ 

Eddie grumbles, kicking at a can. ‘Only crazy because of the damn “no touching” rule you set.’ 

‘Aww’ Steve coos, ‘baby cant handle a little teasing anymore?’ He smirks at Eddie, unlocking the car but not opening the door, instead watching Eddie slump over, pouting. 

Steve stalks around to the passenger side, opening the door for him and pulling his arm, shoving Eddie down onto the seat with a hand on his head. 

Eddie whimpers, feels pre-cum leak out of his tip and soak into his boxers. Fuck, he’s hard - worse now. Steve’s not let him have more than a peck, more than a nighttime spoon, for days. 

‘Wanna know a secret?’ Steve asks. 

Eddie’s slumped on the passenger seat, feet still on concrete. He rubs his hands over his burning cheeks and peeks up at the sunshine being blocked from above. Steve leaning a forearm in the car hood, looming over Eddie, caging him in. 

Steve steps right up into Eddie space, shoving his knee onto the seat right between Eddies thighs. crushing his cock. Steve leans in even closer, breath ghosting over Eddie's ear, making him shiver. 

‘I know how she tastes.’ 

Eddie feels like all his air gets gut punched out of him, feels his fucking pupils dilate so much his vision goes blurry. He makes a strangled sort of moan. His boxers flooding with cum.

‘…Did? Did you just?’

Eddies panting so hard all he can really do is nod his head. 

‘You’re so pretty.’ He slurs, staring up at Steve, haloed and lovely and how did Eddie get so lucky?

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes, but he smiles down at him, strokes his cheek and looks at him with eyes full of stars. ‘You can go again through right?’ He asks. 

Eddie beams. ‘Fuck yeah!’ 

Steve laughs, shaking his head. He closes Eddie’s door and gets behind the wheel. Puts on his sunglasses and lays his hand on Eddie’s thigh. ‘No touching while I’m driving. Let's go break into my parents house.’ 

Eddie leans back in the headrest, grinning. ‘By break in, do you mean use the spare key?’

‘Sure do baby. They won't even be there.’ Steve says, and pulls out of the diner parking lot. 

-

Back at Steves Eddie sprawls out in his bedroom, familiar in its ugliness but the mattress has always been to die for.

Eddie listens to the sound of Steve moving through the house, not sure what he’s doing. But they’ve fallen into routines like this before, Eddie waiting upstairs while Steve did whatever it was that made a big empty house like this run smooth. He works the same magic on their apartment; structuring Eddie enough to not get overwhelmed by chores and eventually listening to Eddie’s please to not do it all himself. Steve could work himself to the bone and still ask if Eddie needed a glass of water. But now they have a chart, and Eddie’s always had a knack for laundry. 

But, at times like these, brain directly attached to his dick and almost nowhere else, Eddie wants to be directed.He wants Steve to do exactly as much as he wants, do so exactly as he pleases, Eddie almost an afterthought. 

Yeah, Eddie wants that. He shivers, hears Steves footsteps on the staircase. 

‘Unzip your jeans but don’t take them off.’ Steve says, coming into the room, searching for something. 

Eddie complies quickly, standing. Steve walks out of the room.

Steve walks back in with his shirt off. Looking Eddie up and down, face blank. 

He lifts the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt and shoves it in his mouth, saliva soaking the fabric between his teeth, cool air hitting his exposed nipples. ‘Show me.’ Steve says, calm and neutral, like Eddie is his doll to play with.

He pulls at the waistband of his boxers and his eyes burn as he watches Steve. Refusing to blink, refusing to miss the look on his face once he sees the mess. 

Steve’s eyes roam Eddie’s face for a moment, steely and almost cold. He looks down, raises his eyebrows. Eddie feels his cock twitch at the attention, at the judgment. 

Steve looks back up. ‘Look at it.’ And Eddie glances down, breath hitching at the sight of his cock covered in his own cum, some of it starting to crust but the tip still shiny and wet, leaning against the sodden fabric of his boxers. 

Eddie looks back up at Steve, sees that he watched his whole reaction. Pupils blown wide and Steve's hand has migrated up to tweak at his own nipple. Jealousy burns in Eddie’s gut; that he’s not allowed to touch Steve like that, not yet. 

Eddie whimpers again, he wants to kiss him, wants to eat him. 

‘Fuck’ Steve murmurs, like he can read Eddie’s mind. Maybe he can, or it’s just how good Steve has gotten at reading Eddie’s face.

‘Colour?’ Steve asks.

‘Super fuckin’ green.’ Eddie says around the fabric, grinning, watching Steves smile bloom right back 

‘Good’ Steve pecs his top lip. Eddie surging forward, chasing, letting the wet hem fall. 

Steve stops him with a finger on his chest. His expression smoothing back into one of mild disgust. ‘So needy.’ Steve drawls. ‘Take off everything but your boxers.’ And he’s gone again, leaving Eddie to struggle out of his clothes in a rush. 

Steve walks back in, now only in his boxers too, Eddie can see the outline of his cock through the material and it makes his mouth water. It takes him a second to register that Steve’s holding the Polaroid camera now too. 

‘Show me, like you did before.’ Steve says, fiddling with the camera, waiting. 

Eddie does as he’s told and he feels goosebumps dabble over his skin, heat rushing south so fast it makes his nipples hard. 

Steve takes a photo of eddies cock covered in his own, slightly crusted, cum. The flash taking Eddie’s breath away. 

But Steve just leaves again, without a word. Eddie stands stock still and hears the shower turn on, the faint sound of the camera again. 

Steve comes back in flapping the polaroids. He sets the camera down and walks back over to Eddie, handing him a damp wash cloth. 

‘Clean yourself off.’ He says, leaning on one hip, looking board. ‘And fold your clothes on the desk, boxers on top, they need washing.’ Eyes flashing to Eddie’s, bitchy and judgmental. Eddie moans, even more heat rushing south, his gut churning. 

But Eddie does as he’s told, ignoring the heat between his thighs, Steve’s eyes on him as he settles the clothes in a neat pile. ‘Good. Now grab a pillow and kneel down. You’re gonna watch my photos develop while I shower. That sound okay?’ He asks, condensing, but the question is laced with sweetness, infused with the knowledge that Steve knows Eddie loves him like this, loves being talked to like this. But he can end it any time. Any time either of them want. 

Eddie just nods, bites his lip, turning to the bed to grab a pillow and situate himself on the floor. 

Steve bends and lays the photos in front of where Eddie’s kneeled. Then strokes his cheek with a thumb, making Eddie preen, blinking his eyes closed slowly. 

The crack of the slap registers after the feeling, Eddie’s head turned slightly to the side. Low moan distant to his own ears. 

He blinks his eyes back open, looking up at Steve’s and his pretty face. He thinks there must be spit sliding down his chin, because Steve’s thumb comes to wipe something away, dipping into Eddie’s parted lips gently, for a moment. 

And then Steve turns swiftly for the door, stopping just at the threshold. Eddie eyes snapping back up from where they were looking at his ass and Steve’s stifles a smile. Eddie’s own growing slow and dopey on his face. 

‘You can touch, I want you hard once I’m back. But if you cum again I’m not doing anything with you for a week.’ He says and Eddie blinks at him. Nodding as the words filter through his brain. 

He closes his eyes once Steve leaves and the water turns on. Lets his fingers dance towards his cock, cheek hot and tight and he moves it at the same time he wraps around himself, shoulders hunching around another guttural moan. 

Then he remembers the photos. 

He looks down and laying in front of his bent knees there’s two polaroids. The one of Eddie is almost fully developed, his dark thatch of hair speckled with globs of his own cum, white in contrast and just as noticeable in half crusted patches over the pink flush of his cock. It’s a mess. 

Eddie works himself at the sight, getting to full hardness with a strangled gasp. Remembering Steve eyeing it, remembering what he’d said that caused Eddie to finish so quick. 

The other is still only half developed. But the photos edges are rendering sections of the familiar Harrington bathroom, white tiles and blue walls, shower curtain and the edge of the large ornate mirror. Tan skin starts to become clear, Steve’s big hand holding the camera aloft, taking his own photo using the mirrors reflection, the back of his head. 

Eddie’s hand speeds up and he watches, wide eyed, as Steve’s broad shoulders come into view, the arch and strong length of his back. Eddie bites his lip again, harder, as Steve’s back ends in his bare ass perched on the counter.

The dark ring of a plug just visible between his cheeks. 

Eddie strangles a cry, gripping himself hard at the base, stifling his orgasm and feeling tears spring at his eyes. Steve’s must’ve been wearing that all through their time at the diner, all through the day. Stretched and wet and Eddie clenches his thighs together, covers his mouth with his palm and squeezes his eyes shut. 

‘Fuck. Fuck!’ He mumbles behind his hand, breathing shakily through his nose. Steve is something else.

Finally the shower shuts off and Steve returns. Eddie still kneeling, panting heavily, cock hard and leaking between his thighs. Still coming down from the brink. Steve just smirks at him, running a towel through his hair. 

He lays down on the bed, settling against the headboard. He trails his fingers over himself, tracing his nipple and stomach before giving his cock a few tugs, getting it hard. 

Eddie watches the whole thing, hands still gripping his thighs. 

Eventually Steve’s eyes slide open, that little smirk on his face. He opens his arms for Eddie, motioning him in. 

Eddie scrambles up and into them, kissing and sucking at Steve’s neck and shoulders. Cock already grinding desperately between Steve’s damp cheeks. 

‘You liked the pictures baby?’ Steve whispers, smile in his voice, mouth hot on Eddie’s ear. 

Eddie shivers and pulls back, disbelief on his face. ‘I can’t believe you.’ He gushes. 

Steve smiles at him and his cheeks are flush from the shower, his damp hair is falling into his forehead. ‘Fuck, you’re so pretty.’ Eddie says, always always amazed by Steve. He needs him, wants to be inside. 

He grinds again, catching Steve’s hole, relishing in Steve’s eyes rolling slightly. ‘Get me wet first.’ Steve demands pulling at Eddie’s hair, shoving his head away. 

Eddie bites his lip, cock twitching, he pulls at Steve’s thighs, bending him in half. Dips low to lick a long wet stripe across his ass. Tongue pressing at Steves hole, breaching the already stretched muscle and fucking his tongue in until there’s spit sliding down Steve’s crack. 

Eventually Steve pulls Eddie off by his hair, chest all flushed and nipples hard. 

Reaching over Steve gets the condom and lube from his bedside table. He doesn’t live here anymore, hasn’t for years. But the remnants of their sneaking around before Steve up and left with Eddie and Robin are still there. He never completely fell out with his parents, but he didn’t really tell them where he was going either. They continue to essentially ignore Steve and Steve continues to sneak into their house whenever he’s in Hawkins and fuck his boyfriend in whichever room he pleases. It’s not ideal, but it works. 

‘Gonna show me what that useless cock can do?’ Steve goads, sitting up to roll the condom onto Eddie and slicking him with lube. 

Eddie whines. 

He hitches Steve’s thighs up, forcing him Back flat, hands beneath his knees. Steve sighs into the touch and Eddie watches his length get slowly swallowed by Steve’s tight, wet heat. 

Eddie bottoms out, watching his length disappear. He feels his balls draw up, ears ringing and he’s so close. He’s so close. 

The slap makes him stutter, eye wide as he stare at Steve. ‘Do not cum.’ Steve seethes, finger in eddies face, like he’s a misbehaving child. Eddie moans, gripping Steves thighs to hold himself still, breathing deeply through his nose to stave off his orgasm. 

He stays buried in Steve, willing himself back down. Panting, he feels tears prickle at his eyes again. ‘That’s it.’ Steve soothes, hand coming up to stroke over the red mark he left on Eddie’s face. 

Eddie breaths, eyes closed, feels the tendrils in his gut uncoil slightly. No longer right on the brink. 

Eventually he opens them, Steve’s eyes on him. Eddie leans down, hands either side of Steve’s face. He starts moving his hips again, building a steady pace. 

‘You should’ve touched yourself in front of her today.’ Steve says, looking up at Eddie with that closed off look again, haughty and judgmental. Eddie moans. ‘What do you think she would’ve done? If you got your stupid needy cock out in the diner, you think she would’ve laughed?’ Steve asks, voice mean and even, the only sign of arousal the flutter of his eyelashes as Eddie thrusts especially deep. 

‘Fuck Steve.’ Eddie pants, thinking about it. ‘I used to think about that while you were at Scoops’ He admits, eyes watching Steve, watching his smirk broaden. 

‘Yeah? You would’ve got your big dumb cock out on the counter for me while I scooped ice cream?’ 

Eddie’s hips stutter, he’s getting close again. ‘Yeah, used, u-used to go jack off in the bathrooms after seeing you at that mall. In that outfit. Fuck Steve, wanted you so bad.’ Eddie whines. 

Steve coos, finger trailing up Eddie’s sweaty neck. ‘Who knew the freak would be so needy’

Eddie whimpers feeling a blush spread down his chest. He moves his hips faster, wanting to get in deeper. 

Steve cracks, moaning. ‘Fuck, make me cum baby, get me there.’ Steve says, gripping his own cock now. Other hand holding him in place with the headboard. Eddie going faster, deeper, grazing that spot he knows so well inside Steve. 

Steve throws his head back, releasing all over himself with a shout, soft hair splayed across the pillow and cheeks flushed pink. Eddie slows, grinding. He’s so close again, so achingly hard he can feel his pre dripping out, filling the condom. 

‘I think I would’ve let you. Maybe Played with your cock while I worked.’ Steve pants. ‘But only if you cleaned up after yourself.’ And he scoops up some of the cum from his stomach and chest, feeding it into Eddie’s slack mouth. 

Eddie sucks, swallowing and tasting salt, flooding his mouth with saliva, some slipping out down his chin. ‘’Teve.’ He pleads, garbled. Begging for permission. His eyes wide and wet, hips unable to stop. 

‘You wanna cum baby?’ Steve asks, holding Eddie’s jaw with his spit slick fingers, fucking his own hips down onto Eddie’s cock. 

Eddie nods, whining, digging his fingers into the sheets, trying not to think about what will happen if he comes too soon. 

‘What are you baby? Are you my little freak, my little perv?’ Steve teases. 

Eddie shivers, nodding, his whole body shaking in an attempt to stave off his orgasm. Shame writhing filthily in his gut, threatening to spill. 

Steve pulls Eddie closer, kissing his cheek and letting him burrow his face in Steve’s neck. Eddie licks over his moles, wants to mark him, burrow his cock inside and never leave. ‘Thats it, my dumb thing, fucking me so good.’ Steve pets over Eddie’s hair as his hips speed up, thrusting into Steve harder, the sounds of skin slapping echoing through the house. 

‘Cum for me.’ Steve whispers, hot breath sending shivers down his back. Eddie’s rhythm turning sloppy and desperate as he thrusts deep one last time. Cumming and crying out into Steve’s neck, tears slipping onto Steve’s skin and Eddie clenches his teeth so hard his jaw cracks. 

He cums for so long he’s almost numb, shaky and boneless as he falls on top of Steve. 

Steve holds him close, threading his fingers through Eddie’s sweaty hair and whispering praise in his ear. 

Eventually Eddie moves slightly from on top of Steve, letting his softening cock slip out and his head rest on Steve’s chest. Listening to his heart beat. ‘Good boy, you’re my good boy Eddie.’ Steve says softly, threading his fingers into Eddie’s curls to massage his scalp. 

Eddie groans, boneless and satiated. ‘Was I too mean?’ Steve asks from above him. 

‘Fuck no. Made me cum my whole brain out.’ Eddie slurs, pressing his forehead between Steve’s hairy pecs. 

Steve tsks him, tugging at Eddie’s hair. The sharp pain making Eddie hiss and he sucks one of Steve’s nipples into his mouth, clamping down on top of him so he can’t wriggle away. 

‘Okay, okay! Quit it, you monster.’ Steve laughs, shoving Eddie’s face off. 

Eddie sits back in his heels, laughing, finally taking the condom off and tossing it onto the floor. ‘You want another shower before we head back to Wayne’s?’ He asks, petting distractedly at Steve’s pink hole, still shiny with lube. 

‘Ye just gimme a sec.’ Steve says, stretching, making Eddie’s fingertip slip inside. ‘And quit playing with that, what are you, a perv?’ He asks, smirking up at him. 

Eddie grins, lunging back on top of Steve and biting his shoulder. 

Steve yelps and Eddie scoops him up, carrying him bridal style to the bathroom. 

‘Oh! Stevie, remind me to put those polaroids in my wallet. I think I’ll get a lot of use out of ‘em.’ Eddie says, dumping Steve on the closed toilet and turning the shower on. 

📸 📸 📸 📸 📸

Tag List: @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor @marvel-ous-m

#longer one today #the doc for this used to be called 'bi freak wet and needy' #so had to keep the history #its finally done omg this has been on the back burner for SO long #i hope u enjoy 🥺 #hotlunch #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #sub eddie week #subeddieweek #my fic #<3

[strawberryspence]

PART 1

Eddie did not know what to do. It was one mistake, made in a dimly lit bar, and he honestly doesn’t even remember the guy’s name. Was it John? Jeremy? Jason? It was one guy, he never even flirts anymore but Steve looked so good that night that it hurt. Hurt so bad he needed someone to temporarily fill that gaping hole in his heart. Because how can Steve Harrington ever want him in any way?

His mother, Cecilia Munson, used to call him sweetheart at the softest times of the day, sunlight dancing through their rooms, just for the two of them. He remembers being nine, young, sharp edged from his father, wondering why anyone would look at him and call him sweetheart, not when he hot wires cars and pick locks. His mother smiles sweetly at him, explaining, “You, Eddie Munson, have the kindest and biggest heart. I call you sweetheart because I love you.”

Of course, Eddie’s in love with Steve. Of course, he calls Steve sweetheart because he loves him. How can anyone not fall in love with him? He calls Steve sweetheart because its true. Steve is a sweetheart. Steve’s sweet with the biggest kindest heart he’s ever seen on anyone. Sure, he wasn’t the best in high school, but he’s proven that he’s better now time and time again.

He gets a visit from Dustin two days after the bar incident, pounding at his door like a hurricane. When he finally opens the door, Dustin’s red faced with anger, “You’re fucking lucky I love you or I would’ve bought Erica Sinclair with me.”

Before he can even ask what’s happening, Dustin’s listing the ways Erica can hide a body, never to be found again. Eddie sighs. The group knows now, of course, they would. News spreads like wild fire with the kids. It’s because of those damn walkies they have (he can’t begrudge them for it when it once aided in saving his ass.)

“How did you find out?”

“Jonathan.”

“Jonathan?!”

Dustin shrugs, “He’s got vendetta against you now. I don’t know dude, they’ve always had a weird friendship. Max thinks they were a throuple at some point, Lucas thinks they’ve got a thing going on just the two of them and Will won’t say anything.”

Jesus Christ, Eddie’s not one for jealousy but there’s something green cruising through his veins right now and he hates it with a burning passion. He needs Dustin to leave so he can scream into a pillow, or maybe sob in the shower.

“Why are you here?”

“I am here to make sure you fix this shit you fucked.”

Eddie looks up at him with surprise as Dustin crossed his arms, eyebrows raised, “Everyone knows Steve’s the biggest sweetheart. He may hide it with his big hair or his sarcasm, but we all know. If you do like him, which you do, you dumb ass. You have to fix this, Eddie. I haven’t seen Steve this upset before and I was there when Nancy dumped him.”

Eddie blanches at the statement, it tears straight to his heart at the fact that he made his sweetheart upset. God, he's an idiot.

The next morning Eddie goes into mission mode with a bouquet of daisies in one hand and a bag of cookies he bought from the bakery on the other as he arrives at the Harrington’s mansion. He’s gonna fix this today, come hell or high water.

Robin answers the door and Eddie’s sure he’s never seen her look more feral and that’s saying a lot when they've fought a magical evil wizard together. Robin’s looking at him like she’ll gauge his eyes out if he makes a wrong move, which he deserves.

Eddie asks for Steve and before he can finish the door is shut to his face. Well, he deserves that too. So he knocks again, ringing the doorbell as annoyingly as he can.

Robin opens again, nostrils flaring, “What do you want Munson? If you’re here to make my best friend cry again, I am asking you to leave now.”

“Robin, I just want to talk to him. I want to apologize. I made a mistake and I want to fix that mistake.”

“Then what? You're gonna go calling him sweetheart again without strings attached?”

“You know that’s not what it is. You know, Robin.”

And she does know. She knows about Eddie’s feelings for her best friend and the fear of not being good enough for Steve. Robin’s afraid no one will ever be good enough for her Steve but before the bar incident, she thought Eddie’s the closest thing to good enough.

For a second, Eddie can see Robin soften, then she shakes her head, “No.” Robin says, her back straightening.

Robin’s about to close the door again when Steve comes into view. A blanket draped over his shoulders, hair messy, glasses askew. If it was any other situation Eddie might’ve swooned at how soft he looks like but he’s eyes are red rimmed from crying and Eddie hates himself even more.

“Let him in, Rob.” Robin stands solid at the doorway, not moving. Steve looks at her wearily, “Robin.” They have another one of their silent conversations, before Robin gives up, “Fine.” She leaves the door open before marching up the stairs to give them privacy.

Eddie hands him the daisies and the cookies, Steve smiling down at it before inviting him into the living room with a small smile.

“I am sorry.” They both blurt out at the same time. Eddie’s not even sure to why Steve’s apologizing. Steve then goes on a tangent about how sorry he is for making the assumption that the name sweetheart is only for him and that it meant something more. It wasn’t Eddie’s fault, it was his and his only. He says it’s okay and he didn’t deserve Eddie in the first place and he wasn’t that special. Every word just crushes Eddie even more. How can Steve think he doesn’t deserve Eddie? Him of all the people?

Eddie can’t do anything but scoop him up in his arms, trying his best to give him the best hug in the world as he apologizes for his mistake. Eddie assures him that he is Eddie’s only sweetheart and Steve didn’t make anything up in his head. Eddie tells him he is in love with him, and Steve tears up but at least there's a big smile on his face.

Then and there, Eddie makes the decision to show Steve the love he deserves, to woo him off his ass. Eddie loves him, through and through, and Steve’s always gonna be his sweetheart and if in 50 years they don’t end up together, Eddie will never call anyone else sweetheart, because that’s for Steve, his nail bat yielding, bad ass, sweetheart.

They don’t kiss. Content with just being in each others arms, knowing their true feelings for each other. (Also because Eddie feels like he needs to earn it) Robin goes down when it gets too quiet, and when she sees them in the couch she smiles sweetly at the image of the two of them tangled together.

She walks up on them, “I am so glad you two made up.” Eddie’s smiling up at her when Robin’s fist hits his nose.

“ROBIN!!!” Steve’s clutching him, he’s pretty sure his nose is bleeding and when Eddie looks up, Robin’s holding her fist like it hurt her to punch, but she’s grinning the biggest grin Eddie’s ever seen on her face.

“Again, I am glad you two made up. I love you both very much. But if I you make him cry again, that’s not the only thing I am breaking.” Robin smiles before kissing their heads and heading to the kitchen to get him an ice pack.

They look at each other before promptly bursting into laughter as Steve tries to wipe his bleeding nose with his own hand.

Eddie does woo Steve. On the third date Eddie planned for them, Steve finally kisses him. They’re in his car and Eddie’s rambling about his new campaign and how the kids loved it. Steve kisses him mid-way the conversation. The kiss itself, Eddie thinks, is just as sweet as Steve. Steve holds him like he’s the best thing in this universe and like it’s a privilege to be kissing him, rather than the other way around.

Eddie does not stop wooing Steve. He picks him flowers in random fields, takes him on dates, makes him dinner, leaves tiny notes on his bathroom mirror, (he also woos him amazingly in bed), packs him lunches, makes him mixtapes, burns CDs, and, three decades later, playlists.

They’re 40, Steve found his first grey hair yesterday and Eddie’s knees hurt more often that it should. But Eddie still calls Steve sweetheart. Their kids cringe at their parents and their vintage pet name for each other, but their smiles don’t hide the fact that they adore their parents love.

Steve knows he’s special, because Eddie Munson calls him sweetheart for the rest of their lives.

Eddie knows he deserves this life, this love, because Steve Harrington loves him.

#MY BABIES #BOTH IDIOTS BUT I LOVE THEM #daeheadcanons #steddie #steddie rants #steddie headcanon #steddie fic rec #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic

[mydearesthrry]

hayday, braids, and chocolate - h.s.

a/n: self indulgent as fuck. wrote this a couple of hours ago…hope u enjoy as always 😘

wc: 1.1k (shes a shorty!)

cw: fluff. name calling i guess? in a joking and loving way <3, one suggestive sentence ig

summary: sundays with harry <3

A movie was playing softly in the background, Harry and Y/N talking about god knows what as he laid on his back, head resting on the armrest of the couch. Laying on her tummy against his chest, her chin was propped up on the back of her hands as her palms rested on his shirtless chest, neck craned to look at him as they spoke.

About anything, really.

“No, I honestly have t’say tha’ I disagree with you, lovie,” He looked to the ceiling in thought. “How could you possibly even bend that way? I know for a fact that y’aren’t flexible, there’s jus’ no way y’can prop up y’legs behind y’head.”

“Harry, do you actually think that all our millionaire friends stay at every house they own?”

“I actually haven’t thought about tha’, and I have a scary feelin’ that y’might be right. What d’they even put in these things? Like… what is a gusher?”

Or the occasional switch in position, Harry still on his back and Y/N now on hers with her back to his chest. Most likely for a phone break— or, more like Y/N getting stuck on TikTok and forcing Harry to watch with her.

“Jesus Christ, how much red 40 are in those fucking pickles?”

“Holy shit, tha’ dog is so fat.”

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing right now?”

“Yeah, lovie. Tha’s a guinea pig wearing a cowboy hat. With m’initials on it.”

Or… just them sitting in silence. For the most part.

“Harry…” YN sighed, clicking at her phone. Her legs were slung over Harry’s thighs, her back resting against the arm of the couch. They’d switched positions a couple of hours ago, now sitting in complete silence as they became iPad kids and tapped away on their respective devices.

“Yeah, m’love?” Harry said, setting his crops into the dirt before looking at her, his head turned and tilted slightly like a puppy.

“D’you have any corn or wheat?” She asked, needing to plant some on her HayDay farm. She knew he would know what she was talking about, seeing as HayDay had been their new obsession as of recent.

“Were you staring at my phone or summat?” He gasped with a bewildered look.

“...No?” She questioned. She laughed when he turned his phone screen to face her, HayDay opened on his phone as well. Turning his phone back to face him, a few beats passed with them sitting in silence, their noses both stuck in their phones.

“So… do you?”

“Yep, just put them on m’market.”

“And that, is why I love you.”

—

“Ow! Tha’ fuckin’ hurt, babe.” Harry groaned, pulling his girlfriend’s fingers from his hair.

“Oh suck it up, you big baby. You asked me to massage your scalp, you can’t get mad at me since I’m literally doing what you asked.” She grumbled, slapping Harry’s hand away and moving hers back up to his curls, twisting little strands around her pointer fingers.

“I-“ He started.

“Say something, brat. I dare you.” She said, grabbing his chin to tilt his head back.

“Nothing,” Harry muttered, moving his head back to its original position on her chest. “Thank you, baby.”

“Whatever. You’re still a brat,” She kissed his temple three times, craning her neck a bit more to kiss his lips with his assistance of craning his to meet her lips as well. “But, I love you.”

“I love you. Love of m’life, m’muse, m’soulmate,” He placed soft kisses on her lips with every other word, kissing her deeply with his last. They sat in silence for a little, soft breathing and the occasional beep from his phone sounding the room, until Harry broke the silence.

“Lovie?”

“Hm?”

“Can y’braid m’hair?”

“Are you gonna complain if I pull too hard?

“No, but I’ll probably get hard.”

A pause. “Y’know what? I’ll take it. Get me a hair tie then sit on the floor.”

—

“H, come here.” Y/N groaned.

“No.” Harry said, arms crossed as he turned his back to her.

“You’re such a fucking diva,” She said, kicking at the bottom of his back with a socked foot, trying to garner his attention. “Don’t know how I put up with you.”

“Oh, ‘M the diva? Y’just chewed m’out ‘cause I accidentally ate the last bit of your chocolate, even though y’told me last night that y’still had some left!” He whined, back still turned to his girlfriend.

“Oh my God. Are you serious? I said I had some in my desk at work, not at home, you fucking twat.” She said exasperatedly, still poking her toes into his back.

Reaching behind him, he grabbed her socked feet and held them tightly, making her whine and complain about the constriction. “Let my feet go!”

“No. Not until y’apologize.” He said matter of factly, turning the slightest bit so he could hold her feet in his lap, face not facing her, but instead watching the movie that was now on mute on the TV.

“Do I have to?” She asked, voice low.

“D’you want y’feet back?” He gave her the same tone of voice, not paying her any mind.

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath, scooching forward as much as she could to rest her chin on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you for eating my chocolate.”

“Hmm, and?” He hummed, moving to rub small circles into the soles of the fuzzy fabric covered skin.

“And ‘M sorry that I wasn’t more specific. Forgive me? I love you.” She whispered, moving to rest the plush of her cheek onto his shirtless shoulder, her lips brushing against the skin when she spoke.

Sighing, he fully turned to her and raised an eyebrow, letting her feet go and placing a soft kiss onto her forehead. “Of course I forgive you, sweet girl. I’d forgive y’a million times over. I’ll buy y’new chocolate, baby. Jus’ love when y’get all soft w’me. S’ like, m’favorite thing ever. Besides you, I guess.”

He was cut off by a yelp when she used their closeness to her advantage and took a bite out of her shoulder.

“Y’fucking bitch.”

“Twat.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry <3 #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry edward styles #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #harry styles x fem!reader

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 20 all chapters

gif credit to dilfgifs

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-You try to go as long as you can, but later that night you decide you just can’t stand it anymore. You’re pretty sure it’s been days, and you feel gross.

“Can I…use your shower?”

He turns to you with a small smile. “You mean, our shower? Yes.”

Hoping that’s the end of it, and this exchange won’t get weird, you slip out from under his arm to go into the bathroom. You check your prospects, finding expensive shampoo, conditioner, bodywash, shaving gel…but no razor. You guess you get it, kind of, but really. Then again, maybe you'd better not ask. Why send mixed signals by shaving off your body hair? It’s just an aesthetic mostly catering to the male gaze anyway…

But it bugs you.

You pop your head back out of the door. “Razor?”

He doesn’t even look up from his book.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

This annoys you for some reason. “Just so you know, I am not going to try to kill myself.” Brave words for someone in your situation, but at least at the moment, you mean them.

“I was more worried you might try to kill me.”

You open your mouth again, until he fixes you with that laser-like stare. “Just take your shower, y/n, or do I have to come in there to help you?”

The thought of his large hands on your body slick with soap sends an inconvenient spear of desire straight to your center.

“No.”

You disappear fast as a groundhog into its burrow, closing the door behind you.

“Door open!” he yells in that particular tone, and sensing the shift in his mood, you comply rather than pull his tail some more.

Well done, you, you chide yourself as you strip out of your dirty dress and your ACE bandage in the cavernous shower. He was actually in a good mood, somehow, after you tried to knock his head off with a book. And now you…what? You did something to piss him off, at least a little bit.

Learning his moods was going to take some doing.

It was the only way you were getting out of here alive.

You keep looking over your shoulder, half expecting to see him looming behind you. That man moves silent as a ghost when he feels like it.

It’s creepy. And…kind of hot, if you’re being honest, but that is not a helpful thought.

You feel a thousand times better with all the grime washed from your hair and your body. You wrap yourself in a big fluffy towel that feels like a cloud on your skin, and put off going into the bedroom by drying your hair.

There are products on the sink that you use, face lotions and hair creams, and more expensive versions of the same type that you could never afford. How did he know?

Then again, he has fucking gorgeous hair, he probably knows more about styling product than you do.   

You turn to look at his handiwork upon your bum. The bruise is a red and purple swirl nearly the size of your fist. You can actually see the neat lines of his teeth marks. “Jesus Christ.”

His eye was going to heal way before that was.

When you can’t really dawdle in the bathroom anymore, you war with the next conundrum.

Fresh clothes.

Fuck it. You march out, heading for the closet without making eye contact with the reclining leopard on the bed. You can feel his eyes on you, and fuck if it doesn’t turn you on to be watched like that. Like you are some kind of prize to be desired.

It feels utterly insane to you, to say the least. You’re not that beautiful, but he looks at you like you’re Helen of Troy.  

With your hand on the closet door John clears his throat pointedly.

You know you can’t ignore him. Risking his wrath while you’re wrapped in nothing but a bath towel is so not a good idea.

You turn to find he’s laid something out at the foot of the bed for you already.

“Wear this,” he says. It’s an order clothed in velvet. Polite, but…you sense the unyielding directive underneath.

You pad on bare feet to the foot of the bed. It’s a silky lavender nightie with lace at the bodice. Nothing too wacky. No embarrassing peep holes or extraneous straps. You are somewhat relieved.

Until you see the underwear he’s paired with them.

Your underwear, as a matter of fact.   

Those went missing a long time ago.

Speechless, you look to him, knowing you look like a fish out of water but unsure what to say.

This has been going on for way longer than you even knew, and you didn’t have a clue.

“You took these from my apartment.” You manage not to yell it.

“I didn’t want you to wear them for anyone but me.” He has the cheek to sound grouchy about it, like you did something wrong.

You feel your temper rising like the mercury in a thermometer. You know you’re going to say something stupid, but you just don’t know how to keep it in.

“How. Fucking. Dare you?”

He just sighs, like he already knows how this is going to go. “Don’t play this game with me, baby.”

You bite down on the impulse to demand he not call you baby.

“You could have just…asked me out. I would have said yes, you know?”

He actually looks away as you tell him this.

“Maybe you would have. Until you realized I’m just a bitter old man, and you would have left me.”

You blink at that. How can he be so smart, and yet so blind?

“I knew you were a bitter old man all along! But you know what? I liked you anyway. I thought you were interesting, and funny, and so fucking handsome, and I wanted to fuck you. But now…” You clench your fists, shaking with all the vitriol you know you can’t unleash on this unpredictable man.

This unpredictable killer.

He takes your fury, seemingly nonplussed. You’re not sure any of it registers at all, and it takes some of the wind out of your sails. “This isn’t love, John,” you say quietly, your throat tightening with every syllable. “Love is…having the courage to bare your heart to the sword, and take what comes. You can’t control it like this.”

He tilts his head at this, a wave of that lovely dark hair covering his face. You get the feeling like he’s hiding from you, when he does that.

Finally he asks, “Have you ever been stabbed, y/n?”

Your heart skips a beat, as you wonder if he’s threatening you. “No.”

“Well let me tell you. It fucking hurts.”

Then he reaches down the bed to pluck up the panties, sticking them in his pocket. “I guess I’ll just keep these. You’re not going to need them anyway.”

You glare daggers at him.

He offers you the slightest, smuggest, smile.

“You sonofabitch.”

“Watch that mouth, kitten. Unless you want me to fill it up with something else.”

You bare your teeth with the thought. “I fucking dare you,” you spit, snatching up the nightie to take it to the bathroom to change.

“Nuh uh,” he interjects. “Change here.”

You freeze in your tracks, understanding exactly what he’s demanding of you.

This is how it’s going to be, you tell yourself. He’s going to be sweet, and then he’s going to be insufferable, and if you’re not careful, he’ll get downright mean. Don’t be fooled by the sweet moods, because all the rest is just beneath the surface waiting.

It was so hard to remind yourself of that, when he was being good to you.

You don’t turn around. You moonlighted as a drawing model after college. You can handle this, right? He’s already seen parts of you anyway…

It’s soooooooooo much different than being in that classroom, when you undo your towel and let it fall to the floor. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your bare form. In the end, knowing it’s just your backside, that he’s already gotten way more than an eyeful of…doesn’t really help. With shaking hands you quickly you pull the nightie over your head.

You hope he feels guilty about the size of that fucking bruise, but you have a feeling he probably likes seeing his marks on you.

“Come here.” He practically purrs, and your flesh aches for the sound. Fuck.

You turn to face him, but do not move. Once again, that glorious boner is making an appearance. It’s almost flattering, how often this man has a hard-on when he’s around you. If this had been a normal relationship, you would have made it your mission to oblige him at every opportunity, just to see what the old man could take.

As it is…all you want to do is fight him, and you know you are destined to lose.

He pats his thigh, as though he expects you to sit on his lap. Without underwear. Or a bra. Or a sense of self-preservation.

You shake your head no with the glitter of moisture in the corners of your eyes. You’ve never felt so helpless in your life, and you hate it.

 He frowns at your defiance. My god, no one can do a forbidding frown, like Mr. John Wick. It lodges your heart in your throat, even while you find him magnificent.

“Are you going to make me make you?”

And there it is.

You sigh, and you feel like a piece of your soul exits your body. Good. Good, be empty. He can’t hurt an empty husk.

“I guess so.”

You close your eyes, and you wait. You wait for his rough hands, for the violence that is surely coming to you. You shake like a leaf, unable to stop. You don't know why you'd allowed yourself to hold out some hope, that maybe he really wasn't going to hurt you.

Yet, it does not come.

You open your eyes to find him still frowning at you. He hasn’t moved a muscle.

The longest three seconds of your life tick by. You count them in your thundering heartbeats, and then he scoots over on the bed. “Fine. Come lay by me then.”

You are shocked to your toes. You forget how to move. 

“Now.” He snaps his fingers, pointing to the bed beside him, and you scurry over before he loses his patience with this kinder offer. Cautiously you crawl up beside him, and when he holds up his arm you understand the cue, snuggling into his side with your head on his shoulder. 

Alright, this, you can do. 

This feels almost…normal. The way your head fits into the divot of his shoulder is just…divine, if you’re being honest, and your body shudders as you suppress a sob, hiding your face against his chest. It’s not fair, that you still want him so much, and you mourn for the promise of sweetness that was snatched from your table before you ever really got a chance to taste it.

“Shh,” he soothes, touching your hair, his big hand dwarfing the crown of your head. “I’ll try to remember to be patient with you.”

You nod against him, wanting to believe him, knowing that makes you a sad little fool.

“But my patience has its limits. Remember that, kitten.”

Oh. You weren’t going to forget.

He continues to hold you, and eventually your heart slows, the tension in your body finally relaxing.

It’s incredible, really, how you just can’t leave well enough alone.

Now that you’ve both calmed, you feel bold enough to ask, “John?”

“Yeah, baby?” His lips on the top of your head make your eyelids flutter, it’s so sweet.

“Do you…at least know that it was wrong, to break into my apartment?” You feel like the answer to this one question will help you gauge everything about his state of mind.

He is silent for a long time. Long enough to let your imagination run rampant with the things he might do to punish you for this impertinence, after he was so generous as to just let you lay down with him and snuggle.

Yet there’s no anger in his voice when he answers, “Yeah. But I’ve been breaking the law my whole life, sweetheart, and no one’s stopped me yet.”

It’s the truth, and a nice neat little warning, all wrapped up in one.

You should be scared again, but you just sigh against his chest. Maybe you’ve used up whatever hormone is responsible for adequate fear responses for the day. Or maybe…his games are working on you already, claiming your sanity inch by inch.

You lay there in his arms, and eventually you start to doze. He strokes your hair, a sweet and lulling touch that makes you curl your toes. When those featherlight fingertips find their way to the back of your neck, and the tops of your shoulders, you cannot help but squirm. In your half-asleep state, this is your kryptonite, and your leg tangles with his, your pelvis pressing against his hip. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, to crane your head towards him.

Only when you feel him shift to lean towards you for a kiss, do you realize what you are doing.

You turn your head at the last second, and his grip on you tightens from comforting to bruising in a nanosecond. “Wait—”

He has you on your back before you can blink.

 “Are we still pretending you don’t want me, kitten?”

“I…”

Suddenly his hand is between your legs, manhandling you like he owns you, raking up your thigh to swipe at your folds. He finds you soaking wet with slick, of course, and he makes a point to press your clit with his thick fingers as he withdraws. It sends an agonizing jolt of desire spreading through the cradle of your hips, the ache in your stupid little cunt nigh unbearable. You hardly recognize the keening sound that escapes your mouth.

Was that you?

It worsens ten-fold as you watch him bring his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean. “Tastes like lies to me.”

Goddammit.

“John…”

You can hardly believe it, when he slides off of the bed, leaving you cold and alone, confused and filled with desire. The pulsing ache between your legs drowns out any rational thoughts you might have had a moment ago.

“Little liars don’t get to cum. I’ll let you think about that tonight.”

You feel like you did that night in Italy, watching him walk out the door when all you really want is to feel his thick, insatiable cock teeming inside you.

Which is fucking insane, of course.

And you were thinking he might be the crazy one?

 “Same rules, sweetheart. Don’t you dare touch yourself tonight. I’ll fucking know.”

With one last baleful look over of his shoulder he touches his hand to the lock, and sweeps out of the room. He leaves you stunned on the bed, disheveled and unsure, once again, of what the fuck just happened?

#john wick #john wick fic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #bittersweet john wick imagine #yandere john wick #yandere #i didn't think id get a chance to post tonight so BONUS i love you all!

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

corrupt!Nanami

A/N: For @mozlov. Enjoy! 🫶🏽

corrupt!Nanami shifted personalities like flipping off the light switch on a dark stormy night: Your big soft bear was more savage than ever. "You're not listening. She's not takin time off. And as long as y/n works here, so do I. End of fuckin story." Nanami snarls at Yaga. Rolling and flexing his shoulders like he's getting ready for a fight. He's always so ready to box these days. Especially over you. "Nami, its okay. Let's just go-" You're pulling at his dress shirt, afraid shits bout to go down. But Yaga simply holds up his hand for silence. "If you can control yourself while we figure out your condition.. Y/n can stay, but-" Nanamis already taking a step forward, eyes narrowed. You gotta put yourself in between them to make sure your husband doesn't swing. "We'll allow you on the grounds for visitation but you simply can't teach like this. Not at the moment, Kento." Nanami stares at him coldly for a moment before turning to you. The adoration in his eyes gives you whiplash, but it's relief when he puts away the malevolent beast and returns your loving husband. "Long as she's good, I'm good." Said with too much conviction, slowly rubbing a thumb over your bottom lip, shallowly dippin between your lips to tease the tip of your tongue. You gasp, eyes wide at at how quick Nanami goes through the motions. Fuckin guy is now starin at you like you're his prey. "But she's takin the day off." He quickly pulls you from the room without another word, Yaga starin at Nanami's back in utter disbelief.

corrupt!Nanami turns out to be fuckin elated not to be a teacher anymore and quickly loses his dedication to the cause. He's only interested in the art of slaughter, no longer needing a valid reason to pull out his cleaver. Tries, and often fails, to keep that shit to a minimum. Dont get it twisted, Nanami's a murderous bastard. Isn't limited to just killing curses anymore but anyone that gets in his way. Yet.. he's aware how that fucks with your conscience. Knows he can sleep like a baby after but doesn't fuck with how that shit keeps you up at night. So he hides his bloody clothes after a long day, making sure to shower before coming to bed and scooping you into his arms. Falls asleep peacefully as his mind flashes scenes from his lastest kill.

corrupt!Nanami no longer asks your permission for shit anymore. Bent over to pick somethin up? That ends up with your husband puttin you on all fours, giving you back breaking back shots as your try to crawl away. "Quit that, y/n. Told yo fine ass bout doin that shit, right? Bendin over so just so I can see.. 'S all your fault.. You know I can't help it. Ass is too perfect to ignore." It's worse when you try to work out. Always sneaks up from behind to grab you, accusin you of excersing for hours just to tease him. So you find your self in Nanami's lap, cock warming him as you try to catch your breath from your workout. "Aww.. Poor baby, so tired. Don't worry, won't take long. Dicks been so hard watching this whole time. Help me baby, please. You're the one that did this to me.." Christ you cant even get any sleep round your torturer, most nights waking up to his dick hard between your thighs. This times he's awake, thrusting slowly as he holds you to him tight, growling your name at your ear. "Been waitin for you to get up. Look what you did to me.. Throwing that ass on me in your sleep. Come on, y/n. Lemme fuck. Took everything in me not to fill your sleepy lil pussy. Deserve a reward, huh? Gonna help me out?" Not like he needs it since you already feel his first load starting to dry on your thighs.

corrupt!Nanami doesn't have any more patience for you excuses on why you can't give him a baby. Tired as fuck of talking to you about it. So takes it to the next level and starts to plot on you, replacing your birth control with placebos. Then.. He waits to catch you off guard one pitch black night when you're walking to your car from class. You're energy completely drained, you just don't hear him swiftly comin at you from the side. A huge gloved hand blanketing your lips, trapping your scream. Nanami's snatches your wrist together, brawny body restraining you to the car. You struggle against him, too fuckin weak to curse him due to your overwhelming day. But he knows that already; deceitful ass went through alotta trouble to make sure your itinerary was extra full today. "Shhhh." You ignore him, the familiar voice and planes of his muscled chest against yours back not registering, buckin and tryin with all your might to break free. Fuckin turnin Nanami on watchin you attempting to escape, juicy ass repeatedly trapping his dick between your cheeks as you wiggle wildly against him. He ain't waiting a second longer. Fuck your screams, he'll deal with whoever interrupts him accordingly. Lets go of your mouth to rip at your bottoms like they're paper, making your struggles double. Might as well be laying limp, absolutely no match for the 1st grade. Nanami unsheathes his cock, spitting in his hand generously and lubing up. You're body's tense as fuck when you feel him stab through your opening. Pitiful insides clutching his dick like a dear old friend. "Loosen the fuck up woman.." The fuck? "Nami?!" He let's go of your wrists, slamming his hands on either side of you to trap you further. "I told you to be quiet." Snatches your head back by your hair and thrustin the rest of his dick into you. "Nami!" Shrill cry piercing the air. It's uncomfortable without foreplay to prepare you, still he digs you out without remorse. "Shhhh, y/n.. shhh." Nanami squishes you to the car, molding your body to his. Strokin deep as he can, like he'll never see you again. Literally fuckin loud moans from your throat, so damn good that its not your fault your gettin wet; slick building and forming a white ring around him. "Shhhh. Screamin your fuckin head off, baby.. So you not gone listen? Never do. Just like when I told you I wanted to breed this perfect cunt, make you give me a pretty baby. But you didn't listen then either. Now look what you made me do." So that's what this is? The revelation makes you try to get away again but Nanami's hold on your locks keeps you right where he wants you. Sharp yanks that makes you shriek, scalp stinging. "H-hurts, Nami. 'M sorry. So sorry." You whine to him, body fallin pliant against your car. But your husband rolls his eyes. He aint buyin your BS this time. "Naw, you gonna take this nut. Gonna give me my baby, woman." Pulling you off the car and into his body, your husband pummels your lil puss likes he's in heat. "Ahhh fuck, y/n.. Love you. Love you more than anything, finally gonna show you how much, honey." You're disgusted. At doin something this at the school. At him for startin a family like this. Most importantly, at yourself for still loving him, knowing that this changed nothing between the two of you. Even as he breeds your lil puss without consent. "Here it comes- ohshitohshit! Daaaamn, y/n.. Got so much for you. Mmmm.. So good for me. Thank you, sweetheart. Thank you so fuckin much. Only want a baby with you. Only you, y/n. Always been only you." Youre whining when his hips still, Nanami pressin his dick deep as possible when he finally impregnates you. "Love you so fuckin much, honey." "Love you too, Kento.. Fuckin asshole." He chuckles, pulling out and tucking you into the car. "Let's go home, sweetheart. Gonna make your pretty lil pussy cum before I fill her up again." "Kay, Nami."

#black reader #black fanfiction #black writer #all readers #all welcome #all women are beautiful #smut #dirty talk #creamp!e #sub reader #submisive and breedable #dub con #dubious consent #nanami kento x black reader #nanami x black!reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami smut #jjk smut

[poppy-metal]

Having a heady girlish crush on Eddie Munson and taking it one step further than writing his name all over your notebooks to write it with a heart over the “i” on the waistband of your panties. So when he finally gets you down to them and his fingers are looped in the band, he’s narrowing in on the little writing and asking you on his knees “you’re saying you belong to me or something?”

balling bc this is sm i would do </3

eddies eyes shooting up to yours. hes on his knees in front of you, after having tugged down your skirt and hooking his thumbs fingers in your panties. he has that big doe eyed look, like in awe, lips parting.

you have his name written on your panties in hot pink glittery gel pen, with the i in his name dotted with a heart. eddie feels like he's about to fall over and die. he takes a deep breath.

"do you, um-" he starts to joke, but his voice cracks. "have a crush on me or something, baby?"

you smile shyly and your hips sway a little into his hands. "i just liked thinking i belonged to you. that i was your girl." its silly and girlish but eddie looks like he wants to eat you alive.

his thumbs stroke little circles on your hips and you feel your clit pulse. he drops his forehead to your tummy and groans. you feel his lips mouth wetly just under your belly button and you pet through his soft hair.

"you're insane." he breathes. "do you know what this does to a man? jesus christ-"

you pout "are you okay?"

"no." he says promptly, and you feel him grip your panties, twist them in his hands and start to tug them down your thighs. "no you just ruined me. now i-" he moves his head when your panties pool around your ankles. looks at your cunt for the first time and swallows hard. "now i need to ruin you. god, you have such a cute little pussy."

you bite your lip as he brings his thumb up, strokes through the tuff of hair at your pubic bone and pulls back the little hood of your clit. you feel wet and slick already, sticky between your thighs.

"my god." he says, more to himself than to you. he looks up at you again. "fucking- writing my name on your panties with little hearts- you're adorable. lay down and spread your legs for me, m'gonna eat this pretty cunt until you cry. because you're mine, yeah? have a big ol' crush on me, so you're gonna gonna let me do whatever I want. fuck."

#ask #eddie spaghetti #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader