#also perv steve harrington | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherrychilli · 6 months ago

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18+ Perv! Steve Harrington x Perv! reader, F reader, friends to lovers, scent kink, reader being a bit of a creep but Steve's into it because duh, masturbation (f) sexual acts in public, mentions of and allusions to oral sex (f)

WC: 5K

A/N: I was going to split this into two parts but fuck it. Two for one special. Still feeling rusty when it comes to writing so go easy on me, yeah? Also, this one's kind of gross at times. Just a little bit. Nothing extreme but just letting you know incase you're someone who gets squeamish easily. Enjoy!

The hair? sure. Everyone liked his hair.

People usually fell into two camps when it came to Steve Harrington's signature do; either they envied it or they hoped to be one of the lucky ones who got to run their fingers through it.

You used to daydream about the latter when you only knew him from afar but now that he no longer ran with a particular kind of crowd, now that he's just Steve and no longer the King, you managed to get close enough to find out that he smelled nice too.

Really nice.

So, figuring out that he used women's shampoo shouldn't have been the revelation that it was because it made so much sense, his tresses never scented with a wintry pine or spicy cedarwood like most scent profiles marketed to men.

You had your friends to thank for your stumbling upon that discovery, the group of them arriving at your home to bully you out of your PJ's and into a pair of jeans and shoes, uprooting you from your room on a Saturday afternoon for an outing to the fancy part of the mall.

While they searched for new make-up, you wandered a section of the store by yourself, uncapping the pretty bottles in the hair care aisle whenever the sales assistants' attention wandered elsewhere, squeezing each one carefully to sample the array of scents. You did this idly and with no real plans to purchase anything, just something to pass the time while your friends crowded another display a few aisles away, chattering blissfully and swatching lipsticks.

Picking up a fifth shampoo from the lineup of bottles, you brought the uncapped rim up to your face, lightly skimming your cupids bow with it as you gently inhaled. While fun, you'd spent most of your time at the mall feeling a little bored, a small part of you still desiring to go back home where you could lounge and laze in peace. That was until you began to recognize the scent of the newest shampoo you had clutched in your hand, the familiarity of it triggering a whirlpool of memories.

In seconds, your mind plunged back to the night of Jack Sullivan's graduation party. The first time Steve Harrington had spoken to you – really spoken to you since he’d parted ways with Carol and Tommy, seeming much more approachable than he had in the past.

The two of you had ended up sharing the patio swing outside where the air wasn't as thick with smoke and the smell of spilled booze. Making conversation, he offered you a beer he'd originally intended to give Robin before she'd slipped away into one of the guest bathrooms with your best friend Sally. You both knew why, sharing a look of understanding but never mentioning the obvious out loud out of loyalty to your friends.

Then there was the only day it rained in July, remembering the way your fingers brushed against his as you handed him your umbrella. You'd discovered him taking refuge under the awning of the diner you worked at that morning, face twisted all worrisome as he looked up from his wristwatch to the downpour in front of him, forced into walking to work that day due to his car still being in the shop. The only light that shone that day was the gleaming smile he gave you when he thanked you for your kindness.

And then there was the time when you had your head down while scanning a tape at Family Video, bumping face first into Steve's chest when you rounded the corner, his name tag catching on your bottom lip. It was the tiniest sliver of a cut, barely noticeable or painful but oh, how he fussed over you like you were made of porcelain. He’d gone so far as to sit you down on his chair behind the counter as if you might collapse from blood loss at any moment, whizzing into the break room and back with a fist full of napkins to dab the miniscule wound that had already stopped bleeding.

All of those memories and more linked by one scent. This scent.

With your pupils dilating like a cat prepared to pounce, you flipped the bottle over to read the contents.

White frangipani blossoms, toasted coconut, bergamot waters, sea salt breeze and sunkissed musk.

Steve Harrington in a bottle. And the quickest 16 dollars you've ever spent.

And with that purchase came the self-imposed reminder to exercise caution. Upon leaving the mall with your friends, your mood much chipper than when you'd arrived, you made sure to hardly ever use the shampoo when you bathed, afraid that if Steve smelled it on you later, somehow, he'd be able to put the pieces together and know why you'd bought it, even as wildly unlikely as that seemed.

So instead, you huffed the bottle in private on most days, only using it when you knew you'd be spending the day at home. On those eagerly awaited days you luxuriated in the scent as you applied the shampoo in your shower, mind and fingers wandering, working your peaked nipples and your firm clit up to the thought of Steve joining you in your shower and fucking you dumb – tits pressed up against the cold, wet tiles, ass bouncing on his hips as he stretched you open and used you well.

But now that you'd discovered this new kind of hunger you had to make sure to keep it well fed and when the shampoo didn't feel like enough anymore, you set out to purchase his cologne.

The scent was one you had memorized from all of your trips to the video store, hanging around the counter while Steve talked to you about which movie you ought to rent next. You could smell it on his neck whenever he leaned in close on his elbows, face inches away from yours, wishing he'd close the distance and meet your lips with his.

Another trip to the mall had you scouring the men's section like a wolf tracking the scent of injured prey, sampling bottle after bottle of cologne until you found it.

Aromatic sage, dark tonka bean and rich sandalwood. Priced at a cool $39.50 which you gladly forked over because to you, it was all money well spent.

The cologne became part of your nightly routine after that, dabbing drops of the heady scent on your body when you went to bed, the smell making your arousal climb before lulling you to sleep an orgasm later, evoking dreams of Steve throughout the night that made you wake up to your panties all damp and sticking to your core by morning.

You were content that way, the shampoo and the cologne enough to satiate your fixation on the way Steve smelled all while managing to maintain your friendship with him without things becoming weird.

What ended up shattering that peace however was running into him a few weeks later coming out of the Y, just done with a game of basketball as he spotted you passing by and happily waved you down.

He smiled at you just as brightly as he had all those months ago in July, this time dressed in his gym clothes; a pair of green shorts that showed off the thickness of his toned, hairy thighs and a grey t-shirt, the sleeves filled out well by his tanned biceps and its collar darkened by sweat.

Up close, you could smell the exertion on him and that was what became your undoing.

It took every iota of self-control not to rush him to the ground and pin him beneath you, feeling more and more like a caged animal the longer the conversation went on and you were forced to compose yourself.

It was the kind of scent you wanted to sink into, more so than the cologne or the shampoo because this was Steve completely unadulterated – that earthy musk, that rugged, almost spicy all-natural scent that you wouldn't be able to find on any shelf.

Barely managing to hold it together until parting ways with him, you knew you wouldn't be able to rest without it, mind already working to devise a plan.

"Risve- what?"

You chuckled as the word died on Steve's tongue, knowing he'd trip up on the pronunciation. Reaching for a pen and a scrap of paper sitting on the counter, you wrote the word down for him. "Risvegli. It's Italian", you explain, handing it to him as you do your best to repress the shiver that runs through you when his slender fingers graze yours, trying hard to quieten your mind after all the ways you’ve imagined those very fingers touching you in your most sensitive places.

"It's kind of an obscure flick but I like that sort of stuff. D'you think you could have a look and see if you've got a copy in the back?", you try not to bat your lashes too much when you ask, not wanting to overplay the sweetness to the point that it comes off as insincere or worse, suspicious.

Steve looks down to study the paper, cheeks dusted a pretty pink, you can’t help but notice. The ends of his hair are still damp from his shower at the Y, just as you expected now that you knew which days he spent there before clocking in for work.

"For you? Definitely", he looked back up and smiled at you in that way that made your heart somersault. "Be right back". He leaves you alone at the counter and you make sure to wait for him to disappear out of sight into the back, stamping down a flash of guilt for having sent him off to search for a movie that didn't exist to buy you time.

You'd planned it all last night, stepping away from the counter before heading towards the employee break room, able to sneak in without fear of running into Robin because you knew she'd be spending the day with Sally on her day off from working at the diner.

Steve’s duffle bag is in plain view as you shut the door to the little room behind you quietly, resting on a chair that'd been pulled out from the table where you imagined he probably shared his lunch breaks with Robin.

Striding up to it, you find the zipper and tentatively, you pull it open to reveal the contents. What you're looking for is balled up at the very top, picking up the sweat damp t-shirt with clammy, trembling fingers. You're really crossing a line this time and you know it, your teeth close to piercing the soft skin of your bottom lip as you bite down on it but you can't deny that there's just something so exhilarating about the whole thing too. The lying, the sneaking around, the risk – it's all a little too much and your mind grows foggy with it, dulling your once sharp intuition and giving way to a moment of weakness that has you abandoning caution now that you're alone.

Waiting to do indulge your urges until you're safe at home feels impossible now that you've got your hands on it, eagerly pressing your nose into the damp t-shirt, eyes nearly rolling back as you filled your lungs with the smell of him. It must have been the pheromones, it had to be, awakening that primal kind of desire in you that had you parting your lips and pressing the tip of your tongue to one of the sweat stains, sucking on the sour, salty musk that had soaked into the cotton.

What you're doing is so dirty, damn near repulsive and knowing that just fuels you even more as you begin to salivate. You're too wrapped up in the earthy scent of him, too lost in the taste to notice when the door handle jiggles behind you, too drunk on the sick thought of what Steve’s used boxers must smell like if you were to pull those out of his duffle next when all of a sudden, it's too late.

The door to the break room swings open and in walks Steve, the world screeching to a sickening standstill when his eyes fall on you.

Your own eyes bulging, you watch in mute horror as he takes in the sight before him, the scrap of paper you'd handed him earlier slipping from between his thumb and forefinger, fluttering to the floor like the wings of a dying butterfly.

It's impossible to know what he's thinking. Is it disgust? if so, he hid it well. Bewilderment? You weren't sure. Ice crackles over your bones as the two of you stare for a few seconds longer, Steve's expression still unreadable.

The whole thing's all the more uncomfortable because of the way he continues to watch you like you’re something to be studied, looking contemplative as you trembled in place, wishing for the ground to break open beneath your feet and swallow you away into a never-ending crevasse.

But as the seconds tick by and the ground stays perfectly intact you're left to seek your own respite.

Despite what feels like the blood retreating from your veins, your body shifts into auto pilot as you wordlessly place the rumpled t-shirt back in Steve's duffel and do the only thing you can do in a fucked up situation like this – walk away. Even as he tries to call after you, you ignore his shouts, continuing on a path towards and out the exit, mortified.

You don't go back to Family Video after that. In fact, you avoid that entire street for a whole week.

The days following being caught out by Steve were some of the worst you've had to endure. Shame made a home in your body, making you ache with a belly full of thorns and your thoughts growing increasingly heavy and abrasive as they flood your throbbing head.

For those seven days you carried around the dread of knowing that Steve had discovered that secret side of you, the feeling worsening at the thought of him telling others what he had seen and rendering you some kind of town pariah – even though a tiny, hopeful whisper inside your raucous head told you that he probably hadn't said anything, at least not yet since Sally hadn't even seemed to have gotten word of the incident from Robin.

But that's all it was. A tiny, fleeting whisper that did nothing to calm you.

At home, you buried yourself in your blankets, letting your anxieties exhaust you to sleep and at work you moved as if you were fighting your way through thick slurry – slow and dragging your body from table to table, unsmiling as you took patrons' meal orders and served them their food.

You continued like that all throughout your shift, waiting for the moment you could peel your polyester uniform off in favour of your own clothes and drive yourself home. With only 30 minutes left before closing, your shoulders which had been pulled tight all day with tension began to sag, a momentary wash of relief coursing through you. That was until you smelled it – smelled him.

Whipping around, your stomach plummets when your eyes fall on Steve walking through the door – and to make things worse, he’s carrying that duffle on his shoulder.

He's yet to have spotted you, taking a seat at one of the empty booths though you notice the way his eyes are scanning the diner, searching.

It's obvious that you’re the one he’s looking for as worry courses down your spine like a lightning strike. Was he going to confront you? right here? in front of all these people? Normally you wouldn’t peg Steve as someone who’d do something so cruel but after what he’d caught you doing, a little public humiliation doesn’t seem all that undeserved, you had to admit.

So, carefully you retreat into the breakroom without drawing his attention, pulling a perplexed Sally along with you once you'd caught hold of her by her elbow.

Once safely inside, you all but blubber in her face, begging her to wait on Steve's table, even promising her all your tips for the next week in exchange.

Seeing the distress contorting your face must have made her feel sorry for you because she pulls you in for a quick, tight hug, running her hand up and down your back in an attempt to calm you. You'd only given her little snippets of what had happened at the video store, making sure to alter a few details for the sake of concealing how far you’d actually gone that day. To her, the gist of it was that you'd embarrassed yourself horribly and that was all she really needed to know, springing into action as the compassionate best friend to the rescue.

"I've got it, okay? just breathe", she'd repeated soothingly into your hair, giving you a quick squeeze and her best reassuring smile before you reluctantly unwind your hands from around her, allowing her to step out of the break room ahead of you.

Outside again, thirty minutes drag on like hours while you purposely stick to the part of the diner that's furthest away from Steve's table. You don't dare look at him but you do sneak a glance when Sally walks by with his order, a single black coffee and nothing else which he sips leisurely while you tremble.

If his plan was to confront you then what the hell was he waiting for? There was nothing stopping him from walking up to you while sweat collects between your shoulder blades as you clear the tables of customers who’ve settled their bill and since left. Nothing to prevent him from stepping up to the counter while you nervously rubbed the surface of it free of crumbs and stains to demand an explanation for your bizarre behavior last week. Nothing to stop him from simply walking up to you at any moment and ask to know what the fuck your deal was.

But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he finishes his coffee and casually waves down Sally for the bill while smiling politely. Somehow that causes you even more unease.

In that moment you lose sight of Steve when you’re called over to serve the only other table of customers left, a family of five keen to fit in one last round of milkshakes before they call an end to their meal.

You see to their order despite your shaking limbs, returning with a tray crowded with the cold, sweet drinks, setting each one down carefully in front of the smiling children and their parents before you head back behind the counter with your tray clutched close to your chest. The whole thing must have taken you ten minutes and when you sneak one more look in Steve’s direction you find his booth empty this time.

Eyes frantically searching the diner, you manage to catch a final glimpse of him walking out the front door, bell chiming above him as he departs, leaving the diner and you with even more questions than you had when he'd first arrived.

Had Steve changed his mind? Had he just wanted to make you sweat for the hell of it? Taken pleasure in watching you try to keep it together in his presence while you traipsed around the diner all too carefully like a petrified newborn deer?

Why had he shown up at all today if he wasn’t going to...do anything?

You get your answer fifteen minutes later when wearily, you trudge into the staff room at the end of your shift, pulling open your locker and all but fainting at the sight of what’s been placed inside beside your belongings.

Neatly folded inside is Steve's grey t-shirt, the same one you'd tried unsuccessfully to "borrow" last week The scent of him is instantly recognizable as you inhale shakily, fingers reaching out to touch the slightly damp cotton to confirm to yourself that you weren’t in fact hallucinating the whole thing.

When your pulse starts to settle and the static crackling in your ears starts to cease you notice a little scrap of folded paper placed inside too. Picking it up and pulling it open, it's with a deep, dreamy sigh that your chest blooms with sunny warmth as you read the note, a smile gracing your lips for the first time in a week.

Three months later...

The only good thing about working the graveyard shift at the diner was that Steve always insisted on coming in an hour before you clocked out so he could drive you home.

Occupying one of the booths inside the sleepy diner, he'd keep himself busy with his phone while you worked, perking up whenever you came by to freshen up his coffee or sneak him a piece of pie he hadn't ordered with all his favorite fixings.

It was during those moments that he liked to have a little fun with you, quickly surveying the room to make sure no customers or staff were looking over in your direction before he'd slip his fingers under your skirt and pinch your ass. Sometimes you'd see it coming and other times he'd catch you off guard, cruel delight curling his lips into a smirk whenever you had to stifle your surprised squeals.

And that's as far as he usually took, patiently waiting until he could get you in his car for more but today felt different.

With no new customers coming in in the last two hours, Sally had taken to the break room to work in a nap while the kitchen staff had stepped out back to smoke and deal cards to pass the time. That left just you working the front with Steve as the diner's only patron.

Having no one else around meant you could flirt freely with him now, making sure to look over your shoulder every now and then just incase to make sure you didn't get caught.

You spent that time alone together with his boot gently tapping against your shoe under the table, reaching out and fiddling with his fingers because you always liked to be touching him while you happily teased each other as the minutes passed by.

Somewhere in the middle of your playful banter you noticed Steve's cup was now empty, picking yourself up from the booth to bring over more coffee. As you leaned over the edge of the table to pour, you anticipated the glide of his fingers on your thigh, inching up your skirt to situate them between your legs.

"You're going to get me fired one of these days", you chide him, still holding on to the pot of coffee once you'd finished refilling his cup.

"Good – then I can have you all to myself", he teased back, index finger drawing patterns on your inner thigh, just a few inches below the lacy trim of your panties.

"Steve", you attempt to scold but there's barely any heat there for him to take it seriously, fingers daring to trail higher.

Meeting his heavy gaze, you watch him search your eyes for a moment, the soft smirk that had been tugging at the corner of his lips slowly fading away as something more serious clouds his expression when he leans forward to whisper to you.

"No one's around, baby. Please? Can I?"

It takes you a second before you know exactly what he's asking for without needing him to specify, heat rising up from the depths of your chest and gathering in your cheeks.

He's got that look in his eyes too and you know that this is what it must have looked like the day he caught you with your face buried in his sweaty t-shirt. That feverish glint of potent want making his iris' gleam.

"Steve, it's too risky", you try to reason quietly despite the way your thighs are already parting for him, allowing him to skim the pads of his fingers over the seat of your panties, teasing your waiting folds through the thin later of fabric.

"Never stopped you before", he's quick to reply with wink, making you grow warmer at the reminder.

He's got you beat there.

"I promise I'll be quick", he pleads again softly and it's almost comical how quickly you buckle under the weight of his needy gaze.

"Shit, okay", you concede as you step closer to the edge of the booth and he pulls himself closer too, hand moving higher to cup your ass under your skirt.

You sigh contently when Steve leans forward and presses his nose against the front of your uniform, right over the juncture between your legs. You're careful to keep your grip tight on the handle of the coffee pot you're still carrying when he takes in a deep breath, inhaling your scent right through your clothes.

Steve liked to joke that you brought out this side of him, the one that made the both of you realize how alike you really were.

It started with the way he liked to linger between your legs after he'd finished eating you out. Your ruined panties spilled out of his back pocket, never to be returned to you as he took his time pressing sweet kisses against your swollen folds and spent clit with his sticky lips, clearly pleased with himself as you fought to catch your breath from the orgasm that'd rippled through you.

And as things progressed, he wasn't secretive about wanting to fuck you so hard and often that the smell of you would linger in the air long after you were done. Or how he liked to nestle his nose in the curls on your mound once he'd finished laving at your pussy – the moreish combination of sweat, saliva and your natural musk making his twitching cock stiffen all over again as he rut into the mattress for a second time, painting his sticky boxers with another generous load.

Other times he'd get on his knees for you, pulling you close by your hips so he could place his face against your clothed cunt and mumble dreamy praises about how good your pussy smelled. And you always loved it when he got like that, even now as your free hand strokes lazily through his caramel hair, letting him do this to you in the middle of your place of work, your coworkers unaware but not far away enough that they couldn't walk in at any moment and find the two of you like this.

"Stevie", you whined softly as you tried to get his attention, a reluctant reminder that the two of you should probably stop before it's too late.

"Jus' a little more, please? need it to tide me over before I can get you alone". His eyes are all glazed over when he looks up at you, tentatively slipping his other hand up the front of your thigh to hitch up the hem of your skirt ever so slightly, his gaze all pleading as he waits for your permission.

With the way he's managed to work you up, your panties more that a little tacky from his attention and your belly tightening with warmth, how could you possibly refuse when you needed this just as badly as he did?

"Fuck. Yes, okay – just be careful", you urge gently because 'be quick' doesn't seem likely anymore.

A look of pure bliss breaks out on his reddening face. "Christ. Thank you, baby", Steve groans appreciatively, pushing your skirt up to expose your panties before burying his face against your clothed mound. He can feel the outline of your cunt perfectly when he's this close – so soft and plump, his mounting greed has him battling the urge to pull the soaked cotton down to your knees and start sucking the tangy slick from your pretty, swollen pussy lips before pressing deeper to lick at your tight hole and all it has to offer.

Restraining himself, he lets out a muffled moan against your core that has your clit swelling and throbbing, your eyes slipping shut while you give yourself to him. It's almost soothing the way he savors you so shamelessly, head partially ducked underneath your rucked up skirt, fingers gently squeezing your ass with his blunt nails making light indents in your skin.

You let him breathe you in for a while longer until you begin to feel a little floaty and more than a little needy from it all, expecting Steve to pull away soon because how much longer could you get away with doing this in public? Stopping him isn't what you want, not really but you knew better than to push your luck by now.

But instead of him reluctantly withdrawing away from you, what you feel next is the wet drag of his tongue along your messy panties, warm, firm and sudden.

Although definitely not unwelcome, under the circumstances, the feeling of it startles you and you can't help but cry out with a yelp, arm jerking backwards as a splash of coffee makes its way onto the checkered diner floor.

Hearts hammering, the both of you rip apart from each other then, Steve with his wide eyes and ruffled hair as he plasters himself to his seat while you very nearly lose what's left of your balance when your shoes skid over the wet mess of spilled coffee. You manage to catch yourself though when you grab the edge of his table with your free hand, finally placing the damn coffee pot down to hurriedly pull your skirt back into place.

Silence overtakes the room as the both of you peer wordlessly in the direction of the kitchen and breakroom, waiting to see if you'd accidentally drawn the attention of any nearby diner staff.

Seconds turn into a minute and when no one comes through either of the doors you allow yourself to sigh out in relief, turning back to Steve.

"Shit. I'm sorry I couldn't help it – had to taste you, honey. You just – fuck, you just smell so fucking good. I needed a little more", he tries to explain when your eyes connect, his cheeks sheened with a thin layer of perspiration and flushed a deep pink.

You were foolish to think you could let him do all of that and endure waiting until the end of your shift to take things further in his car. Leaving him with his lips parted and his jaw slack, you stride away to the diner's entrance to quickly flip the 'open' sign over to read 'closed', rushing back to tug Steve up and out of his seat urgently, grinning when you catch sight of the stiff bulge straining in his jeans.

"Supply closet. Now. Need you to put that mouth of yours to good use."

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #stranger things #steve harrington x reader

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year ago

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boo! surprise bitches! i'm doing kinktober this year! finally doing it! bet you didn't see that one coming, did you hehe 🕸

there is a good mix of both short and long stories coming your way throughout this (and i will also still occasionally post other fics this month that aren't related to this). also, a handful of these fics are darker in nature, thought it was fitting for halloween, so remember to read the warnings, if there's something that's not for you then please, as always, be kind to yourself and don't read the story.

masterlist | join my taglist

day one | sore

stepbro!sirius black x cheerleader!reader + dubcon massage

day two | don't smile

steve rogers + throat fucking + size kink

day three | stuffed

devil!eddie munson & angel!steve harrington + tentecles + double penetration in one hole

day four | a little fashion show

best friend!stiles stilinski + lingerie

day five | stay still

peter parker + bondage

day six | hold up, let me record this

jj maybank + tittyfucking + sextape

day seven | the palace guards

guards!poly!marauders x princess!reader + secrets relationship

day eight | it’s practically like we’re down there with them

mob boss!bucky barnes + exhibitionism

day nine | keep that pretty mouth shut

tommy shelby + keep quiet quickie

day ten | I couldn’t find it in me to wake you

poe dameron + somno thigh fucking

day eleven | I just want you a little longer all to myself

matt murdock + secret office sex

day twelve | nothing more than a toy

rafe cameron + using you like a toy to masturbate with

day thirteen | I still got a few rounds left in me

boxer!steve rogers + bathtub sex

day fourteen | open your fucking mouth

dark!wild west cowboy!joel miller + gun kink

day fifteen | tiny

miguel o'hara x fairy!reader + extreme size difference

day sixteen | the wall between us

cult member!steve harrington + fem glory hole + breeding

day seventeen | be a rebel, be bad, stay here and cuddle with me

spencer reid + aftercare

day eighteen | pleasant pile of pillows

brother's best friend!james potter + pillow humping

day nineteen | ring ring

sam winchester x reader x bf!dean winchester + phone sex + cheating

day twenty | window

perv!neighbour!billy russo + voyeurism

day twenty-one | say yes

fiancé!bruce wayne + possessiveness

day twenty-two | i can think of something better than that

bucky barnes + anal

day twenty-three | double check

dark!professor!ben solo + power imbalance + manipulation

day twenty-four | maroon

vampire!remus lupin + biting + blood kink

day twenty-five | i want you

pirate captain!miguel o'hara + sex as payment

day twenty-six | teamwork

pro football team!avengers (bf!steve rogers, bucky barnes, pietro maximoff, clint barton, sam wilson, tony stark, thor odinson) + gangbang

day twenty-seven | my little flower

din djarin + fantasy au + cockwarming

day twenty-eight | hysteria

doctor!aleksander morozova x hysteria patient!reader + historical au + fuck machine

day twenty-nine | can't fight the moonlight

werewolf!bucky barnes x gf!reader + predator/prey + monsterfucking

day thirty | magical mimic

eddie munson x witch!reader + magical mutual masturbation

day thirty-one | you can’t put it in

stepbro!peter parker + halloween pussyjob

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eddiessluttywaist · 2 years ago

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as if

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: eddie taunts reader daily, but… she kinda likes it? just never does anything about it. not until she has to tutor him, anyway.

pairing: bully!mean!perv!eddie munson x perv!fem reader

word count: 7,901 words

content/warnings: swearing, some angst at the beginning kinda, mention of death (barb), SMUT MDNI (y/n is 18), bully!eddie, mean!eddie, perv!eddie, bully kink (?), dominating, arguing, breeding kink, hate sex, brief masturbation mentions, mocking, teasing, anxiety kinda, spitting, invasion of privacy (eddie goes through her things), eddie’s a dirty lil pantie stealer and sniffer, y/n is a c*m sl*t, bulge kink(?), dacryphilia, groping, choking, daddy kink if you squint real hard, mentions of virginity (y/n is not a virgin), pet names (doll face, princess), degradation (use of slut). i think that’s all pls tell me if i miss anything!

a/n: i have to say tbh i don’t see eddie ever being a bully so this is technically like an au!eddie?…but also… uhhhh very hot. makes my brain wiggle with heat waves so here we are. hope you like it! <3

part two - part three

As if.

It’s a simple statement, really, and you meant no harm when you said it. It was just something to be said… that didn’t mean he didn’t hear it though.

That also didn’t mean it didn’t tick him off.

You were surprisingly pretty to be in the geek group, but in the cruel and tyrannical world of high school girls..? Alas, no amount of lip gloss or cute skirts could free you of the fact that you were smart. Not only smart, but a geek. A nerd—who was shy around most—and you got along with nearly all of the teachers because of how well-behaved and intelligent you were. And, on occasion—although you always tried your best to not come off this way—a bit of a know-it-all.

That was the final nail in your coffin, really. Correcting Carol Perkins in American History in front of everyone back in your freshman year. (Her sophomore year and already irritable about having to take a freshman course 2 years in a row). You meant well, but she had it out for you ever since. The tyrant, as it was, made it entirely impossible for you to make your way up the food chain.

So in your sophomore year of high school, back in Autumn of ‘83, you were among the peasants just like him—even as a senior (for the first time). He took a quiet interest in you. You were cute and soft-spoken. You were a sophomore, though, and the fact that you were 15 at the time made the 17 year old scrunch up his nose whenever he remembered. He could still look, though, right? There was no harm in that…

Nancy and Barb took notice of it all pretty quickly. The way that the senior would scan over your outfits everyday. The way that he might’ve smirked a little if you had to bend over to pick something up, simply staring at your behind rather than coming over to get your things for you. The pair would exchange glances that you were adorably unaware of, over his attention that you were also so endearingly oblivious to. One day, they finally burst over it in the hallway, and he overheard.

“I think a senior likes you.” Nancy teased, gripping her Geometry textbook to her chest.

“What?” You had let out a slight laugh, digging through you locker. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh my god, seriously?” Barb interjected. “Aren’t you supposed to be smart? Observant?”

You were all wide-eyed over that, pouty lips opening and then closing as you struggled to find your words before finally landing on a frustrated huff and a simple “Shut up.”

“He stares at you all the time.” Nancy pushed with a teasing smile.

“Like you can talk.” You teased, slamming your locker shut before resting your back against it. “Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington is totally all over you.” You smirked at the way her face instantly heated up.

“I- He- It’s not like that.” She insisted, completely flustered. And while Barb agreed with you, she wasn’t interested in letting you direct the conversation elsewhere.

“Besides he’s just a Junior. The guy who likes you is a Senior.” Nancy tacked on.

“Like there’s really that big of a difference?” You raised a brow.

“There is.” Barb scoffs.

“Well then if it’s such a huge deal… can’t you just tell me who it is?”

“You seriously don’t know?” Barb questioned and the ginger-brunette pair tilted their heads while they looked at you with a sort of exasperated disbelief. You just gave them that wide eyed look again and shrugged your shoulders.

Barb broke first with a scoff and a bright smile. “Eddie Munson. He stares at you all the time.”

Eddie Munson. He wasn’t popular by any means, but he was still a Senior. He was still attractive to you, and could still make an underclassmen blush if he gave them any attention simply because he was older and a little dangerous. He just didn’t show any interest in any of the other younger students, just a little curiosity towards you.

“Eddie Munson?” You had laughed a little, which made him furrow his brows as he listened in just around the corner of the hall at his own locker. You were being dismissive out of nerves, not out of any sort of malicious intent, but that’s not how he took your tone. After all, he was a cynical man.

“As if.”

After that he was a bit bitter towards you. Then he was a little mean. And then he was just plain cruel. He was an asshole. He was a bully.

Since his interest being pointed out to you, you occasionally glanced over at him to see if he really was staring. But he either acted like you didn’t exist, or whenever his gaze did meet yours the corners of his lips turned down and his brow frowned with disgust before looking elsewhere.

When Barb went missing, you and Nancy were temporarily joined at the hip in your efforts to figure out what happened. Then one day Nancy went cold on you. Started making excuses and hardly speaking to you otherwise. You didn’t understand, finding yourself completely alone as you scattered “Missing Person” posters all over Hawkins.

You had no idea what happened with Barb at the time and still had no clue what happened with your friendship with Nance to this very day. Maybe the loss was too much. Maybe Nancy couldn’t handle the reminder of your perfect trio. She was always closer to Barb than you. Maybe Barb missing and then turning up dead made it too difficult for her to face you. Maybe she was all caught up in two guys being completely obsessed with her, which admittedly made you a little jealous.

Soon enough you seemed to be completely off one another’s radars. It made high school even lonelier for you. You eventually found some new friends in other corners of the “Smart Kids” lunch table, but it was never like it was with Nancy and Barb.

So by the time he started getting a little mean, there wasn’t really anyone to protect you. Your new friends were skittish around the metalhead. Nance and Barb would’ve stood up for you once, but that support system was obliterated back in ‘83.

So when he shoved past you in the halls later in your sophomore year, no one gave it any thought. When he was pulling your hair in your Junior year then acting all innocent when you turned around to confront him, still no one cared. Now in your Senior year—and him in his third—whenever you thought he couldn’t be worse, he proved you wrong and did so with a devilish grin.

He pulled your hair. He tripped you. He stood behind you in line at lunch and would flip up the back of your skirt. He smacked your books out of your hands. He openly mocked you while leaning back in his chair at lunch with that smug look on his face. He mimicked your contributions in class under his breath, knowing you’d hear him and trip over your words. He snuck filthy messages into your locker that made your face burn with embarrassment and disgust—disgust for him and for the way his perverted words made your thighs press together. He would speed up whenever you were walking or biking home just to scare the shit out of you. He would take any opportunity to shove you or throw things at you or press his body up against yours in a derisive and vulgar manner—especially in gym class. He would “playfully” hump you from behind and nearly knock you over whenever you bent over and there was no teacher paying attention. Or spank you. Or pinch your ass.

He was horrible. Disgusting. Obnoxious. Crude. Vile. He made you go home with tears in your eyes most days, but the worst part was how much you liked the attention. You hated yourself for it. You wished you were running to the nearest adult to tell them every last thing he did to you. You wished you were standing up to him and calling him a disgusting pig in front of everyone which surely would’ve pulled out some “Ooo”s and maybe even some of the Seniors that hated him would’ve joined in. Maybe even had your back, even if it was temporary.

But you didn’t because by now when he pulled your hair, you had to refrain from whimpering or moaning. When he tripped you, you thought of the things he could do to you now you were already on your hands and knees. When he flipped up your skirt you always gasped and shoved him away, secretly hoping he’d do it again—even starting to wear only your cutest pairs of panties to school. When he smacked your books out of your hands, you actually liked that it was him causing you to bend over or get on your knees to collect your things again. When he decided to mock you from over at his spot at lunch, you got butterflies from the way he said your name and the way his dimples sunk into his cheeks. When he mimicked you in class, you tripped over your words because his voice and tangible presence got you all flustered and hot. When you got to your locker, you secretly hoped to see the torn off corner of some notebook page flutter onto the floor with the most obscene words. When he sped up to scare you, you thought about screaming something so bold at him that he would screech to a halt and reverse before telling you to get in his van, now.

You liked when he threw things at you like balled up paper to your cheek in class or a basketball to your side in gym. You liked when he shoved you or pressed against you because in his attempts to intimidate you with his touch and his proximity, it made your knees weak. You liked how he pinched your ass or gave it a little smack when you bent over and your teacher wasn’t looking. And you loved when he would thrust up against you whenever you were bent over and there was no teacher around at all, because his bulge pressed up against you (even while he was laughing devilishly) made you ache.

He was so utterly horrible to you, and yet when you found yourself grinding on your hand at night on top of your pink, white and yellow quilt—you were thinking about him and how mean he was. You were thinking about how mean he would be as he fucked you. Taunting you and teasing you and mocking you. You spasmed around your fingers and choked down your cries at the thought of him bullying your cunt.

It was all a fantasy, though. He never interacted with you longer than a few seconds, and was always with him in control. If you walked up to him and told him you wanted him to fuck you like the bully he was, he probably would’ve died laughing right before your eyes and told everyone he knew about your embarrassing lust for the guy who made your life a living hell. But now you were being cornered into spending time with him, and being faced with a real-life scenario where you were together made your palms sweat.

“I know he’s a difficult young man, but if you tutor him I’ll figure something out with the principal. Some sort of extra credit maybe.”

��There’s no one else that could tutor him?” You choked out, nerves on edge. Ms. O’Donnell gave you a sympathetic smile and shook her head.

“All busy.”

Busy, my ass you wanted to huff out. They were probably all avoiding him like the plague. O’Donnell was desperate to get his grade up and get him out of the damn school, which you didn’t blame her for, but god… why you?

“Okay…” You relented, a sad twitch for a smile when she sighed in relief and thanked you incessantly.

“I’ve already spoken to him about needing a tutor, I’ll let him know the good news, okay?”

You nodded with a meek “okay,” and tried to go on with the rest of your day as if you weren’t wracked with fear, excitement, concern over your excitement. You were on edge all day, and nearly jumped out of you seat when you were called to the office over the speakers about 5 minutes to the end of your last class. You swallowed anxiously, collecting your things and trying to ignore the “ooo”s over you being summoned to the principal’s office—assuming you were in trouble.

You trudged towards your destination, pausing when you spotted him slack in one of the chairs by the front desk that he frequented more than anyone else. You considered running in the opposite direction and making up some lie to Ms. O’Donnell the next day, but then Mrs. White beamed at you after happening to glance away from her clunky typewriter.

“Miss Y/L/N! Come on in, dear.” She spoke cheerfully in a way that went through you sideways. Eddie’s eyes shot up to you, smirking around the fingernail he was chewing at and clearly considering spitting it at you if Mrs. White hadn’t been paying attention. You toyed with the ends of your sleeves anxiously, listening to Mrs. White discuss the details Ms. O’Donnell had ready. What topics to go over (which was just about everything). How many times per week she wanted you to tutor him (at least once/week). The only thing left out was when and where.

“Oh that’s up to you two, hon.” She chirped. “Just compare your schedules.”

“It’s not in school? With a teacher around?” You questioned anxiously, but she was oblivious to your worries.

“Nope, no need for supervision. We like to give the tutors space from the teachers while they work with others, we find that the students that need help take to that better.”

“Sure do.” Eddie spoke up, and you nearly flinched at how close he sounded. You glanced over and he must’ve just gotten out of the hard plastic chair cause he was slightly leaned back to give his body a stretch causing his chest to puff out a little, his hands moving to rest by his hips as he tugged his jeans up.

“What? Scared of me ‘r somethin’?” He whispered playfully, a hand moving up to rest over his heart as he feigned offense before his act melted away to show his usual smirk. He winked at you, and you swallowed nervously as you looked back at Mrs. White again who was blissfully unaware of his malevolence.

“So here you go… those worksheets and… a time sheet.” The woman grinned as she placed the last paper on top before sliding everything over. “You just have to add the dates that you study together, and you both have to sign each time. Ms. O’Donnell said writing a quick synopsis of what you went over would be nice too, but not necessary. The most important thing is seeing a difference in Mr. Munson’s grades.”

“Sounds good to me, Pam.” Eddie smiled at Mrs. White whose sunny demeanor sunk into a more serious expression while you put the papers away neatly in one of your folders.

“What have we talked about, Mr. Munson? Use my first name again and you’ll find your butt in detention this Saturday for such disrespect. Again.”

He puts his hands up as if apologizing for his actions, but he was still grinning ear to ear. Mrs. White eyed him with a tight lipped scowl, then looked at you.

“Good luck.”

You were gonna need it.

The ride to your house in his rusty van was surprisingly quiet beyond his music. You were on edge which he enjoyed like always, but he was clearly saving the torment for when he was inside your home. You wished your parents were home, even if they were tucked away in another room, but they were both gone for the weekend to attend your Aunt’s wedding. Not that you’d let him know that.

“We’ll be studying in the dining room. And no funny business. My dad’s in his office and he doesn’t like being disturbed while he’s working.” You lied seamlessly, making your way over to the dining table, Eddie lazily sauntering along.

“Oo does daddy have a temper?” He teased in a whisper. “Gonna come out and spank you if you bother him too much?”

He gave you a mocking pout and your face scrunched up with irritation.

“Just sit so we can get this over with.”

“I’m sorry are you under the false impression that you’re in charge here, doll face?” He questioned, keeping his anger mostly disguised by his inquisitive tone.

“Well, I’m the tutor so-“ You scoff out, avoiding looking at him as you pulled all of your study materials from your bag.

“Yeah and that means something to me because…?” He drew out his last word as he spun on his heels and casually walked away.

“I- what-“ You sputtered. “What are you doing?”

“You know it’s awfully rude to have a guest and not give them a tour of the place.” He spoke casually, grabbing the ends of picture frames hanging on the walls to get a better look at them before letting them drop back again. You were hot on his heels, fixing every frame he left crooked. He paused at a picture of you from camp in a bikini with some of the friends you made that summer, smug and sucking at his teeth a little as he eyed the image of you.

“Real cute…still got it?” He looked over at you, his hair shifting over his shoulder as he eyed you. “Wanna model it for me? Make all this worth my while?”

Your cheeks were starting to turn pink.

“We have to study.”

“Eh.” He shrugs, and looks over to spot the staircase behind him. He slunk around the corner and made his way up the carpeted steps.

“Hey- hey! You’re not allowed up there!” You shout after him, rushing to follow after him. He was already on the second floor when he turned and shushed you.

“Don’t wanna make daddy angry, right? He’s hard at work if I’m remembering correctly.” He whispered with a joking concern for your father’s focus who wasn’t even here, and you worried he knew that. He continued on along the hallway and you stayed behind him, wishing there was something you could do to get him to stop. He opened doors along the way, inspecting the interior with a mild curiosity. The upstairs bathroom. Your parent’s room. The spare bedroom. Then-

“Ah, here we are.” Your bedroom at the end of the hall.

“Please get out of my room.” You pleaded, but he continued on his quest. He looked at the makeup on your vanity, toppling some of the products over like a careless cat before moving on. He toyed with any photos in your room, sniffed at the perfume bottles on your dresser.

“Eddie-“ You started, clenching your jaw as he found the perfume you wore the most often and sprayed some of it on the crotch of his jeans. Then he just kept a hold on it as he waltzed around your room, spraying it several times just to waste your favorite product.

“That’s rude.” You spoke up, your lips pouting slightly. He snickered at your comment, how you sounded like a wronged child.

“Aw well if you need to touch up your perfume at all, you know where to get it.” He grinned, pointing to his groin before continuing to go through your things. The concept was strange but still made you clench simply from the thought of having to rub at his bulge to get something you wanted. He didn’t waste that much of your fragrance, but the idea was still burning in your mind.

He muttered disapproving comments at the posters on your walls and the cassettes he rummaged through until he got bored. You were nervous about interfering even as he invaded your privacy, until he was opening your top drawer to go through your panties and bras.

“Hey! That’s too far!” You gasp, rushing over to slam the drawer closed again. He shoved you back and opened it again.

“Quit being so fucking uptight.”

“Quit going through things that don’t belong to you!” You talked back which was still surprising him every time you did, but certainly didn’t let it show.

“Yeah well quit pissing me off before I put you in your fucking place.” He seethes, giving you an angry warning look that felt like fire all over you. You wanted to cry, to tell him to stop being so mean to you, but it would be useless. You’d just end up feeling pathetic as he laughed over your misery. You just had to stand there and watch as he kept going through your underwear drawer.

“Ooh, cute. I don’t think I’ve seen these yet.” He clicked his tongue and blew out an impressed breath as he held up a black lacy number. “‘d love to leave some stains on these for you, doll face.”

“You’re disgusting.” You blurt out, but the thought of his cum spurting onto your new pair of panties made you feel warm. He smirked at your frustration, tucking the underwear into his pocket.

“Those are new!”

He shrugs, shoving the drawer closed again with enough careless force to knock over a picture frame perched on top. He doesn’t seem to care until he’s spinning around with his finger pointed at you and that wicked look on his face.

“You know what, though? You bring up a great point.” He tugs the lace from his pocket and holds it up to his nose before letting out a disappointed sigh. “Now that’s a problem. Still smell like whatever cutesy store you got ‘em from.”

You have a moment of hope that he’s trying to be nice and provide an opportunity to give them back to you, even if he’s going about it in a dirty way. But that doesn’t last long, even when he’s tossing them back to you.

“Why don’t you put ‘m on for me, huh? Then when you give ‘em to me on my way out I’ll have proof of how fucking wet I get you.” He spoke so smoothly as he got closer to you, that it almost blanketed the filth of his words as something soft or even sweet.

“As if.” You scoff out in a huff, and there’s a fury to his gaze that you don’t understand.

“Yeah… as if.” He murmurs darkly, getting closer to you. You swallow nervously and take a step back. “Cause fuck me, right? I’m just some good-for-nothing asshole who you wouldn’t give the time of day. Not a priss like you.”

“I-I’m not a-“

“Oh dad!” He’s suddenly shouting at the top of his lungs in a sing-song manner, his body whipped around to face your doorway, and your eyes go wide.

“Stop-“

“Hey! I just wanna meet Mr. Y/L/N! Spending time with your lovely daughter!” He spoke with a passionate respect that you knew was coming from a hateful place. He had gone to your doorframe and was listening for any kind of response. A verbal acknowledgement. The sound of steps or creaking floorboards to tell him there was actually going to be someone to confront him.

His grin became devious as he went to the steps again. “Hello?” He calls, dragging out that last vowel.

“Will you quit it!” You hiss, tears prickling at your eyes now at the thought of him realizing you were all alone. Just you and him. And that you had lied to him.

He was turning around, sure now that the only people in this house were you and him. His dimples were pushing into his cheeks again as he sucked at his teeth, approaching you at the doorway to your bedroom like a cocky killer. The kind that you saw in horror movies that knew they had their prey cornered and could have some fun with it.

Out of nerves and a need to keep a barrier between the two of you, you took a quick step back and went to slam your door shut so you could lock it, but he got there in time to stop in with an outstretched arm. He pushed it open so harshly that you were sure there would be a dent in your wall where the doorknob was forced into it.

God, you couldn’t stand the way he looked right now. So proud. So smug. That shit-eating grin that told you he knew he was winning. That fury from before still lingering. He noticed the gloss to your eyes and tuts as a mocking pout reaches his lips.

“Upset about somethin’, doll? Someone got you all worked up?”

You huff out your nose, your lips screwed into a frown and your eyes still stinging with unshed tears.

“You’re so… so… mean! I hate you!” You shout, and without even realizing it you had stomped your foot at your last statement. It makes him pause, his expression unreadable for a moment as he considers everything until it all lands on amusement. He crosses his arms over his chest, grin wild and his hair flowing with him as he tilts his head with intrigue.

“Did you just stomp your foot at me, princess?” He teases, and your face feels so hot you wonder if he can see the flush of pink even through your foundation. He can. You refuse to answer him, fighting back the urge to fully cry in front of him. He’s getting closer though until he’s brushing up against you and looking down at you. God, he’s so warm.

“Aw… such a sensitive girl. Look at you.” He murmurs as he continues backing you two up until you’re pressed against the wall, one of those posters he disapproved of crinkling against your hair. He’s making fun of you like always but there’s a softness around the edges of his words. Blurred by a desire to do just about anything to you. He reaches his hand up to drag the pad of his thumb over your pouty lower lip before bringing his hand down to grasp you by your chin.

“Bet your pussy’s just as responsive as the rest of ya, huh?” He whispers as he makes you look up at him. Your nostrils flare momentarily and you keep looking up at him but you still won’t speak and you still won’t let those tears fall.

“I bet your cunt is just as weepy. All hot and wet when I’m fucking you into shape.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to refrain from whimpering or letting your lips part for a soft sigh. Anything that would confirm how badly you want him to figure out just how right he is. But then his anger flares back up as he’s gripping your jaw now, squeezing just enough to make it uncomfortable.

“Speak when you’re spoken to.” He demands in a low voice with a sort of growl to it that makes your knees weak. You part your lips as you consider answering him like you’re told, and he raises his brows while waiting. Then, in a brazen defiance, you spit in his face instead.

He’s so solid it’s almost like he doesn’t care. Not a flinch or a crack in his demeanor. Then he’s moving his hand from your jaw to your throat and gripping onto it enough that you gasp.

“I’ve been spat on my whole fucking life, you think that’s gonna make a difference here, princess? Think that’s gonna make me respect you? Think you’re brave?”

Your hands reach up to rest over his on your neck, a mewl vibrating from the back of your throat. He leans in closer to your face, your lips parting wider as he tightens his grip.

“It just makes me think you’re stupid.” He finishes before spitting directly into your open mouth. He’s releasing you from his grip right after, wiping your saliva from his cheek while you catch your breath. A soft moan escapes you before you can keep it at bay and his inflated ego is tangible. He’s eyeing you with a sort of amazed intrigue that pulls him back to you, his arms lifting to place his hands on the wall on either side of your head.

“You like it, don’t you?” He laughs and you shake your head furiously, but he isn’t buying it. “You could’ve gotten my ass suspended—hell, even expelled—ages ago. And yet…?”

“I just felt bad that you’re such a fucking idiot.“

“Dirty girl.” He hisses inward through his teeth as if burned by your words, but you were just egging him on.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” He wondered in a soft tone, hand back to your jaw as you stayed quiet. “Will you kiss daddy with that mouth?” He added with a lazy grin, exuding dominance and arrogance.

You became a little slack jawed at the implication, and he was on you. Hand still on your jaw, he pressed his lips to yours. You feigned protest at first with a few kicks and smacks, but then he had your wrists pinned against the wall and you sunk into the kiss. He kept you pinned for a few moments, until he was sure you were relaxed. He dropped his hands down to completely engulf your waist in his arms, and keep you pressed against him. The kiss was filthy with anger-fueled lust and slips of moans on your end and grunts from his.

“I hate you.” You whispered in between kisses, his hands moving to grip your ass now.

“Yeah you do.” He chuckled proudly against your lips before beginning to trail his lips down your jaw to your neck. Your eyes fluttered closed, hands settled on his muscular back as he sucked and bit at your neck, messy hair tickling you. More sounds slipped from you with no attempt to hold them back, a teary whimper hanging on your lips after he bit down on your neck hard enough to pull a yelp from you.

“Gonna mark you all up…” He muttered against your skin, making your head swirl.

“Gonna have you walking into school and have everyone know who you belong to.” He pulled back now, breathless and his full lips all pink with attention. His eyes were dark with lust, and it all made you whimper. The sound made him laugh in disbelief.

“Yeah? Such a slut. Bet you can’t wait to walk in with my hickeys all over you. Might even fuck you in the back of my van beforehand. Make you go to class full of my cum.”

You almost can’t believe him or yourself as you nod your head dumbly with a desperate pout. He groans at the sight and pulls you to him again, his lips back on yours as his hands reach down to hook under your thighs and lift you up. You’re quick to wrap your legs around his waist, a soft cry escaping when he starts grinding against you. He’s so hard and feels so pressed into his jeans, you’re both afraid and alight at the thought of just how big he probably is.

Eddie made his way over towards your bed until his legs made contact with your bed frame. He pulled away from the kiss to drop you on the bed carelessly. You lifted your torso up by digging your elbows back into your mattress, legs bent up at the knee and parted for him while you watched him undo his belt. He noticed you staring, and his gaze traveled along your form. Your knit sweater. Your pleated skirt.

“Take that shit off.” He said with a slight jut of his chin in the direction of your top, hands paused at the waist of his jeans and boxers. You hesitated at first, mostly at his hesitation to pull down his bottoms, but also out of nerves that your body wouldn’t be good enough. He made fun of you for just about everything. Surely he would tease you for that too.

“Did I fucking stutter?” His voice rose just a touch, his expression showing his impatience. At that your eyes went a bit wide again, and you lifted your sweater over your head and then the t-shirt you had on underneath. His hand was under his undone jeans, palming himself through his boxers as he looked over your naked torso.

“Bra too.” He murmured, and your nerves subsided from the way he looked at you. It was all hunger and lust and some impatience, but that was common. But no mockery. He wasn’t gearing up to make fun of your body cause he’s been waiting to see it. It was even better than he imagined, and he stopped a groan in his throat when you unclasped your bra and put it off to the side.

“Fuck…” He sighed out, squeezing his hard cock in his fist. You arched your back, which he initially enjoyed, until he realized your hand was moving to unzip the back of your skirt.

“Hey.” His harsh tone broke through, his free hand slapping your thigh. “Did I say take the skirt off?”

Your lips parted, and he jerked his head forward with a wide, frustrated gaze. It was as if he was saying “Hello? Earth to Y/N?”

He rolled his eyes as you shook your head no, and moved your hands away. He muttered under his breath and settled himself between your legs before deciding you weren’t close enough. His hands grasped your thighs to pull you closer, a surprised giggle bubbling in your chest from the action. He didn’t acknowledge it because he was trying to not let it show that it made him want to smirk. Just like when you get all teary-eyed. Or stomp your feet. Or finally get enough nerve to talk back. Even getting a giggle out of you made him smug, despite the fact that he had only ever seemed to enjoy making you miserable.

Eddie flips your skirt up onto your stomach, licking his lips at the sight of the light blue cotton panties he had already seen in the lunch line today. He finally tugged his jeans and boxers down below his balls, and started pumping his dick in his hand. Your nerves lit up at the sight of it—thick and with a bit of a curve to it. You wanted to see more of him, but the likelihood of that was slim to none. He enjoyed the control he had in this relationship, and that meant he liked having you almost completely naked in front of him while he was practically still dressed. He smirked as pre-cum beaded up on his tip and let it drip onto the fabric of your underwear. He dipped down to drag his tip along your covered slit to make a mess of your panties with his pre-cum. You inhaled sharply at the feeling, biting the inside of your lip whenever he nudged your clit.

“I like these panties…” You complained, knowing how much better it would be for him to ruin a pair of underwear you love.

“Aw…” He tutted, leaning over you as he mimicked the pout on your lips. “Don’t tell me that cause then I might have to cum all over them. ‘N I thought you wanted it inside.”

You mewled again, nodding your head which he mimicked too. The little shake of your head, the sound you made.

“Such a whiny, needy girl.” He said as if he cared. He hooked a finger under your panties and tugged at them, fighting the fabric over your legs one handed before holding them up to his nose. His eyes were trained on the sight of your sopping pussy as he breathed in, his cock twitching in his fist. He cursed under his breath, only pulling the fisted cloth away to stuff into his back pocket. His now free hand moved forward to drag his fingers through your slit, proud to feel how soaked and puffy you were already.

“You a virgin, doll?” He purred, tilting his head with a sickeningly sweet grin, the curled corners of his lips devilish. It was saccharine and mean. He figured you’d say yes because no one at school seemed to want you, but then you shook your head.

You lost your virginity at that summer camp you were at in the picture he was ogling earlier. It was awkward and felt strange, and you didn’t have much experience beyond that, but you weren’t a virgin. You thought he’d like you better this way anyways, already ready for him to fuck, but it ticked him off.

“No?” He asked, pushing two thick fingers into your cunt and making you gasp. The pressure on that sweet spot right at your entrance was buzzing with pleasure, but it still ached a little. “Guess you’re the little slut I always thought you were, hm?”

He was pushing his fingers in deep and curling them up into that spongy spot that made you whine and your thighs tremble.

“Who is he?” Eddie urged, his expression back to the irritation you were familiar with. You weren’t answering, all of your focus on his thick fingers and the rings that adorned them pinching the edge of your entrance.

“Who. Is. He?” He repeated, moving his face a bit closer to yours in bursts with every word, his head tilting to the left then to the right then back to the left to punctuate his words. He was slowing it down for you like you were dumb, and his fingers stopped moving—all of this making you huff.

“No one-“ You whine hopelessly, and he was starting to pull his hand away but you shot yours out to grip his wrist and keep his fingers deep between your legs. “No one, no one important.” You continued. “It was at summer camp, he’s not even from here. Please-“ you nearly sobbed, and it was enough to make the man groan as he leaned over you.

“Oh… please what, doll face?” He murmured, hand that had just been wrapped around his dick sinking the mattress down beside your head.

“Please- please don’t stop.” You whimper softly and he smiles sweetly down at you while pulling his hand away anyways. It was just for a second, enough to make you want to cry, but then he was plunging them back into your fluttering hole again. He added a third finger, barely giving you even enough time to enjoy the first two, the stretch making your lips part a little.

“God, you’re desperate.” He snorted, his hand angling a bit differently to let his thumb catch your clit. He watched with pride as your head tilted back and your back arched. Your thighs kept twitching and your walls were clamping down around his fingers more and more—he could tell you were close.

“Eddie…” You drawled, breath catching as your body braced itself for the mind-altering pleasure of your orgasm, but just as you approached the top—he pulled his hand away. You let out a distressed cry that made him laugh. He cooed at you, his hand that had been pumping his cock moving to rest on your cheek. Knowing where it had been made it even better, made it filthier. It made you wonder how many times he had just touched his dick before touching you.

“That’s for letting some random loser fuck you.” He whispered after leaning down so close that his nose was occasionally brushing against yours.

“‘m sorry…” You whine, tears of pleasure and pain having already slid down from your eyes and back towards your ears—leaving your hair damp and cold.

“You’re sorry, what?” He urged, nudging his tip against your folds.

“I’m sorry I let someone else take my virginity.” You were a blubbering mess, teary-eyed and needy.

“You’re gonna make up for it, though, right?” He purred, his tip already pressing into you and you nodded enthusiastically with a cry, your hips twitching forward.

“That’s my girl.”

Your lips parted, your lower lip quivering when he pushed into you until his hips were flush with your ass. You let out a sort of choked whimper and he groaned.

“Fuck you’re tight…” He sighed with content, sliding back before sinking back in until his tip was kissing your cervix. “Not even a virgin and I’m still gonna have to work to split this cunt open, huh?”

He was grinning again over that, over the grip your walls had on him from such a foreign stretch. It ached in the best way possible except for the occasional thrust that pinched and made you yelp out a small “ow.”

“S-so big… you’re so big…” You babble, your mind fuzzy. Your pupils were all blown out and you watched him fuck into you like it was the best dream you ever had. You eventually tilt your head back, letting out a happy hum as your hips push outward to feel him as deeply and as harshly as possible. He mimicked the sounds you made and the expressions you made from his thick cock hitting all the right places and stretching you enough that you knew you were going to be sore. All day tomorrow you were going to get brief pangs of aching that would remind you of how full you were of Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He was all you could focus on, and you didn’t even realize you had been whimpering his name over and over under your breath until he made fun of you for it.

“Fuck you.” You huffed defensively, only for his amusement to bolster.

“Ha!” He cackled right in your face as you looked up at him with glossy eyes, pink cheeks and pouty lips. “Already are, sweetheart.”

Soon enough your sounds annoyed him though, especially the more demanding they got. Harder. Faster. Slower. More. Please. So he flipped you over onto your stomach and had his hand on your head to press your cheek into the mattress as he mounted you again—all with a casual “God, just shut up.”

At this new angle he was driving into you with a force that reverberated throughout your whole body every time he slammed into your cervix or that gushy part of you. You felt dizzy and breathless, every stroke of his cock against your ridged walls shooting off sparks. After being so close just from his hand to now, you were steadily approaching an orgasm again—just praying he’d let you keep it this time. He must’ve noticed because his free hand was reaching down to rub your clit. Your eyelids fluttered, a sob being muffled by the comforter you were biting down on. The sound of skin smacking, the tired springs of your bed squeaking, Eddie’s panting and grunting, the chain of his wallet clinking every now and then, the wet and pornographic sound of his cock plunging in and out of your pussy—it all seemed so loud for a second and then felt muffled the next as you came undone around him. You moaned out his name, whimpering cries on the tail end. You could feel your walls fluttering around him, clamping down and then blossoming back open then clamping down again in a mind-swirling rhythm.

“That’s a good girl…” He purred in a way that might’ve been too sweet from him if it wasn’t laced with a condescending tone. “Gonna cum in you, ‘kay?”

“Uh-huh-“ You moan, body aching as he picks up the pace again, fingers tangled in your hair with a painful grip. You can’t see him, but his head is tilted back completely blissed out as he fucks into you. You felt amazing, even better than he imagined which was pretty damn astonishing considering the pedestal he already had your pussy on in his imagination. He was so close, and a brief thought of getting you pregnant nearly sent him over the edge. He was mean. So fucking mean. That was the most devious thing he could do. Fill you up and make you all round with his kid.

“Shit-“ He pants out. “Gonna fill you up, babe.”

“Please-“ You beg, pulling an incredulous chuckle from him.

“Such a good girl… always take everything I give her.” He breathes out, leaning down to trap your body between him and your bed, his hand moving your hair away from your face. “Takes everything I give her at school, and she’s gonna take everything I give her in her bed, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, please-“ You sob, gasping out with the next few sharp thrusts against you until there was this warm feeling blooming inside you as he groaned against your back. He gave a few more thrusts after cumming inside, letting out happy puffs of air. You remembered how content that guy was when he unloaded into his condom inside you in camp. That blissful look on his face before he pecked your lips then lied next to you. Eddie didn’t bother with a condom, didn’t press a little peck to your lips and he wasn’t so quick to pull out either. When you squirmed a little he shifted so he was pushed up deeper into you, pulling a gasp from you which made him smirk against your skin.

Eventually he leaned up to bite your shoulder and then he slid out of you. You were still a little out of it, purring out a whiny hum as you nuzzled your quilt. Your legs were still spread and slightly bent up while you laid there on your stomach, and as he adjusted his softening dick back into his boxers he saw his cum slowly started to seep out of you and onto your comforter. Ever the gentleman, once his pants were zipped back up and his belt was buckled he landed his palm on your ass cheek and turned you over as you huffed over the action.

“See you Monday.”

“But we… we have to…” You fought to find your words through the haze. Study. You had to study.

“Bye, doll face!” He called out as he made his way downstairs.

You pouted a little, wanting to beg him to come back and stay with you. Maybe even go another round, but you were so spent that you just laid there.

When you got your energy back enough to force you to get up, you went to pee and clean yourself up before heading downstairs. Unsure of what to do with yourself, you made your way over to your backpack and you spotted the writing on the time sheet. A smile tugged at your lips. Instead of the date he wrote his phone number, and for the synopsis of today’s tutoring session he wrote “sex ed” with a winky face, and then signed where he was supposed to.

God, you were so fucked. And you were going to need a new time sheet.

#eddie munson smut #mean!eddie munson #bully!eddie munson #perv!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things smut

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thecomfortgoth · 1 year ago

Text

Peeping Tom Part 2

18+ MDNI (just don't, ok?)

Part 1 can be found here. Masterlist can be found here.

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader x Perv!Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve hadn't been able to get what he'd saw behind that gym block out of his mind. Even when he was fucking other girls. A confession, a confrontation and a deal is made.

WC: 8.2k

CW: unprotected p in v sex (use a condom, pls), booty call, masturbation (m), panty sniffing/licking, gaslighting, use of degrading pet names, use of praisey pet names, daddy kink, dom!Steve, ONE use of y/n (I tried avoiding it but I couldn't), face fucking, fingering (f receiving), Steve being a fuckboy and a pervert, very small & brief mention of a piss kink (only time this will ever happen), mention of squirting, posessiveness, jealousy, mentions of voyeurism/exhibitionism, violence (there's a little bit of blood), bullying/teasing, illusions to/discussion of cheating, dirty talk, kinda angst? all characters are 18+

Please let me know if I've forgotten anything and I will add it.

A/N: okay here it is, part 2 finally. It was originally going to end up being huge so please don't worry, this is NOT the end of this story, there WILL be a part 3. I am a little worried this will be a bit of a let down, but I promise part 3 is gonna be worth it, so bare with me, it's coming. Leave feedback, let me know if you enjoyed it!

My requests are currently OPEN and I write for Eddie, Steddie, Steve and Billy. Send me some stuff!

Smut (and a little bit of angst this time) under the cut

He knew he'd find you here. Standing at your locker, completely unaware of his presence.

He snorted a quiet laugh to himself as he thought of how that wasn't the first time you didn't know he was there. He watched you from down the hall, sorting through textbooks and putting some in your bag, taking others out and slotting them into their rightful place inside the small metal closet full of your belongings.

His eyes gazed over the little dress you were wearing today. A gorgeous deep wine red, strappy with a black t-shirt underneath, the fabric hugging at your waist and flowing out around your hips. Your legs were bare, they looked like they were so fucking soft. The whole ensemble finished off with a pair of simple black leather platform ankle boots.

Steve had never really been one for noticing exactly what a girl was wearing, usually too focused on getting them out of their clothes to be bothered with it. But with you? It was different. He kinda wanted to fuck you fully clothed, hiking that pretty dress up enough for him to slot between your thighs and slip inside that soaked slit between your legs that he'd thought about since it was first revealed to him last week.

Fuck, he'd thought about it almost every night. Even when he was balls deep inside whatever his flavour of the day was. But he also thought about having you completely bare and exposed for him too. Alot.

Before he knew it, he was moving forwards, smirking a little as he saw your eyes flash towards him, finally noticing him. Your cheeks turned a real pretty shade of pink and he just knew it complimented the colour of your perky nipples, and that it had flushed all the way up to the tip of your ears.

You'd been actively trying to avoid him. Apart from a few little winks in the corridors in passing which made you want to shrivel up with embarrassment, you'd managed to successfully do so. But now he was coming up to you. And Eddie wasn't here to hide behind or use as an excuse or a distraction. The hallway was filled with strangers as you scanned around for one singular familiar face, cursing under your breath as you heard the footsteps get closer.

"Looking for someone, pretty girl?" He crooned, smooth and his voice still a little thick with the morning. Turning your head you saw him leaning against the locker next to yours, a thumb slotted into the belt loop of blue jeans as his other hand held the strap of his backpack.

Fuck. You had to talk to him now. You didn't want to be rude and you definitely didn't want to just walk away. It'd look really fucking strange if you did that. As much as you wanted to, so badly. "Uh.. n-no I was just.. seeing if Eddie was coming, he should be here a-any second now" you stuttered out nervously, giving him a small tight lipped smile, trying to deter him by threatening the appearance of your large intimidating boyfriend. You definitely had scary dog privileges, and you were thankful for it right now.

"Oh I'm sure he's coming alright" he grinned at you, bearing his teeth like a shark, eyeing you up and down slowly, drinking you in. You found it somewhat threatening. Even if you couldn't help but think about just how perfect his incisors would feel sinking into the skin of your shoulder. You swallowed and shook your head a little at his comment, trying to get rid of your thoughts as the blush on your face deepened.

"Look, Steve, I-I know you saw us that day behind the gym block b-but-" you started, looking down at your feet as you closed your locker but were cut off by him laughing a little at you. Kind of meanly. You looked at him in confusion, reaching up and fiddling with the guitar pick necklace of Eddie's that you always wore. He'd told you it would show everyone you were his girl - even if everyone already knew that. It'd become somewhat of a security item for you now.

"B-but what?" He mocked you a little, cocking his head to the side and looking at you now like he pitied you, still with that fucking stupid grin on his face. "Don't sit there and act all shy, sweets. You definitely weren't when I sat and watched your boyfriend drill his dick inside you while you flicked your tongue at me and watched me cum in front of you" he chuckled low, getting a little closer to you.

You still couldn't look at him. You kept your gaze on the floor, shuffling uncomfortably from foot to foot. You felt like the walls were closing in the closer he got, feeling your back hit against the cool metal behind you and a hand plant itself next to your head, the sound of it making you gasp a little and your head shooting up. You looked at the hand. It was his hand. His big, thick fingers tapping steadily at the grate of the locker. Why did you clench your thighs at the sight of them, thinking about how they'd feel stuffed inside you?

You turned your face slowly to see him closer than ever, only inches from your face now. Jesus fucking Christ, what was he doing?! Eddie was sure to come around the corner any moment now and catch you two like this. And he'd fucking rip him limb from limb if he saw him up this close and personal to you. Even if he wasn't even touching you. "Y-you need to go" you squeaked out pathetically, your voice just above a whisper.

"Why? I mean, it's not like Eddie's gonna really care. He let me watch you two fuck, didn't he?" He grinned his teeth at you wider, the grin faltering a little as you ducked your head again. "Shit" he muttered under his breath. "He had no fucking clue did he? You let me see all that and he didn't even know? And you still haven't ratted me out? Wow, maybe you are a dirty little slut after all, keeping naughty little secrets like that from your boyfriend" he groaned a little, getting a tiny bit closer. "Wonder if you'd keep any more dirty little secrets from him.." he said in a raspy tone, making your heart flutter at a million miles an hour for more than one reason.

"You want me to make your cunt drip down your leg with my cum like he did that day?" He smirked as you gasped at his words, your face shooting up as you looked at him angrily now, Steve getting ever closer to you as his hot breath fanned your face. "He doesn't have to know, does he? Cause you can keep a secret, can't you?"

You'd had enough. You couldn't fucking take this bullshit anymore. You used all your strength and pushed him away from you, watching as he stumbled back and laughed at you, seeing you storm off down the hallway with the straps of your backpack gripped tightly in both hands. Your face was now matching the colour of your dress and your jaw clenched, lips pursed tightly against each other as you made your way to class, steam practically rising out of your head.

He'd got what he wanted. He'd successfully riled you up. And he knew you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. He smirked in your direction, watching the way the skirt of your dress would flounce around your ass as you briskly walked off. He couldn't help but kiss the air again in your direction, like he'd done that day last week, before he made his way to his own class. His mind now filled with a million dirty thoughts, a lot of them about throwing you in a janitor's closet and making a mess of that pretty little flushed face of yours and getting that little dress off you. As much as he'd love to be inside your cunt with it still draped over your every curve.

That night was just a normal Wednesday night, and Steve had no plans. His parents were gone and it wasn't quite the weekend so there was no use trying to throw a party. But he couldn't shake the thought of your pretty dress and the way it swished around your thighs, almost revealing your round, jiggly ass to him as you walked off.

How it hugged against your swollen chest as you huffed down the corridor angrily. He wasn't sure why he found the thought of you walking away all pissed off and embarrassed because he'd been teasing you at school so fucking hot. He smirked to himself, humming a little and feeling a tent in his pants form as he lounged around on the couch in his grey sweats and no shirt, his bare hairy chest fully exposed to the elements.

He palmed at himself a little, thinking back to what he had seen in that alley that day. The way you looked at him, the way you licked your lips, the way your mouth fell open and you made a really pretty noise when Eddie fucked you a certain way, probably hitting your g-spot with the head of his cock. Fuck. He groaned at the thought of that, how your pussy would flutter at having that special spot inside you battered against repeatedly with a thick cock.

Steve was rock solid now. He wanted to push his dick between your wet little lips and face fuck you into next fucking year, make your eyes water and your drool spill down your chin and neck, soaking the collar of whatever you were wearing. Or just your bare tits if he'd got you out of your clothes by that point.

But he can't, cause you're Eddie's. And yeah, maybe that did make him a little jealous, because he wanted to destroy you and leave you more of a mess than Eddie had. More of a mess than you probably had ever been.

Fuck it. He wasn't in the mood to deal with his boner himself, not when he could have someone else's hand wrapped around him at a moment's notice, the perks of being "The King". He pushed himself up off the couch, heading up to his room to find his little notebook of girls phone numbers he kept. You know, the kind that any popular senior high guy would have.

Or maybe it was just Steve. Chicks really digged Steve for some reason. He wasn’t sure if it was the hair, his charm or the fact that he was more than well endowed. Or maybe he just knew a lot of slutty girls. He looked through the book, trying to find someone who was even anything close to you. Although they'd never compare, not in a million years.

Not Tammy, she sounds like a fucking muppet even when she’s having sex, especially when she cums. Steve shuddered at the memory of it. Not Nancy, she's with Jonathan and definitely too much of a goody two shoes to cheat on him, even if he knows that his dick has to be bigger and better than that little rat looking fuckers. He scoffs a laugh as he flips past her name.

He finds a girls name, no last name, just written down hastily as “Claire from Chem class”. He couldn’t remember who that was for a minute, he had to think about it. Wow, was he really that much of a manwhore? He chuckled to himself as he thought of it, coming to the conclusion that he was but he didn't particularly care.

Suddenly his eyes went wide when he remembered that she was the girl who could deepthroat a cock without taking a breath for at least 5 minutes. And she’d let him cum inside her, she did last time. “Shit” he hissed out, rubbing at his erection over his sweats, mulling it over in his head. She did have the same hair colour as you. And the same body shape. So it would make imagining it was you much easier. He picked up his phone and immediately dialled her number, confident in his choice of fuckdoll for tonight. It wasn’t long before she answered the phone eagerly, giving him a sweet little “Hello?”

He smirked to himself, poking his tongue on the inside of his cheek as he lounged back against the headboard of his bed, the cord of the phone stretching over as he lazily stroked a finger up and down the outline of his clothed dick. “Hey babygirl” he said down the phone, turning that charm up to 11 as he heard Claire from Chem Class giggle and say his name down the phone breathily, clearly trying to be sexy. “What are you up to, gorgeous? You wanna come over? I’ve missed you”

It's not long before Claire is at his place, he’s grabbing at her and pulling her close the second she's in through the door, biting his lip at her and sliding his hands up her hips to her waist, pressing her against the wall next to the front door, her hands going to his shoulders and laying there, letting him feel her up as he pleased.

He does notice as she's trying to say hello to him that she’s wearing a nice little blue denim skirt and a white tank top that pushes her tits up nicely, they’re just about as big as yours too and they make him groan at the sight of them, surging forward and sloppily making out with her, all tongue and teeth and spit as she reached down and cupped his bulge. She fucking knew exactly what she was coming here for, the little whore.

The thought makes him stiffen further in his sweats as he moves his hands under her top, cupping at her bare tits, pinching at her stiff nipples a little meanly as she whimpered into his mouth. Fuck, no bra. And suddenly he’s thinking about you again. How you showed Eddie (and him) your tits behind the gym block that day. Completely exposing yourself for any wandering eyes to potentially see.

He fucking practically growled, picking the girl up who he’d basically asked to come over so he could use her like a fleshlight, wrapping her legs around his waist, carrying her upstairs and into his bedroom. He swatted a firm hand down onto her ass and listened to her moan out as he grabbed at it under her skirt, not bothering to close his door behind them. No one was home so it didn’t matter.

He quickly got her to the edge of his bed, stripping her off out of the few pieces of clothes she actually was wearing, tossing her pretty blue lace panties into the corner of his room. Not before he brought them up to his face and inhaled them deeply as she leaned forward and sloppily made out with his neck, flicking his tongue over the small wet patch of her arousal he could see darkening them. She wouldn’t be getting those back, that was safe to say. He’d be adding them to the pile of girls underwear he’d started collecting in the last few months which he’d started doing for… reasons.

God, what he’d give to have a pair of your panties, he doesn’t care what colour they are or if they were sexy or not, he just wanted to have something that had been pressed tightly against your cunt all day, soaked with your sweet wetness, something he could sniff and lick at just like he did a moment ago with Claire Whoever's, something he could wrap around his cock and get himself off with whenever he wanted. Or until it was too covered in his cum and he physically couldn’t use them anymore.

He tossed her onto his bed with a bounce, standing at the side smirking down at her as she looked up at him, licking her lips as her eyes hungrily watched him shuffle his sweats off, his cock springing up against stomach and already leaking a little. It was all because of the thoughts of you he’d been having. And maybe also a little because this Claire girl from chem class was actually pretty hot. He got onto the bed in front of her, spreading her legs and holding them apart for him, studying her shaved wet pussy that was spread open wide for him as he hovered over her.

Steve wasn't fussy about pussy hair or the lack thereof, if there was a hole and a clit for him to bully, he really didn't care about anything else. But yours had a tiny patch of hair, perfectly groomed that sat just above your slit. He wondered what it’d feel like against his tongue if he licked that little patch of hair on your cunt. If he’d be able to taste you from it before he’d even dipped his tongue into you.

He heard her whine a little, grinning down at her like she was his prey, rolling her hips towards him ever so slightly. “Keep your legs open for me just like that babe, yeah?” he said as he slipped a hand between her legs and slid his fingers up and down her already soaked slit, teasing her as he watched her whimper and gasp underneath him, leaning down to kiss and bite at her neck, not particularly caring if he was being too hard or not.

She didn’t say anything anyway, she just moaned out so he assumed she was enjoying it. He quickly remembered she was the type to like being used, maybe a little bit of a pillow princess. He wondered if you’d like that too, if you'd just lay there and let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to you, move you around however he wanted to.

“You gonna suck me off like you did last time, baby? I haven’t forgotten what you can do with that fuckin’ throat of yours” he groaned against her neck, licking over the teeth marks he’d just made in her skin. She nodded her head and placed her hands on his shoulders again, which he swiftly grabbed by each of her wrists and pinned above her head, pulling back to look down at her as he used one big hand to tightly bind her wrists together and push them into the mattress a bit more.

“I asked you a fuckin' question. I expect you to answer me, using your words. Or is that too much for your dumb little brain to handle?” he said through gritted teeth, clenching his jaw a little. Safe to say, Steve definitely liked to be the one in control in the bedroom, he liked overpowering girls, making them bend to his will and obey his every command.

“Y-yes daddy” she whimpered pathetically, and she almost sounded just like how he imagined you would if you said the same thing. He chuckled lowly, his cock twitching at what she’d just called him, leaning down and placing his other hand on her jaw, opening her mouth for him as he licked into it and then spat directly on her tongue, watching as she swallowed before shuffling himself up so he was straddling her chest, still holding her wrists in one hand as he lined up his cock with her mouth.

“Thats what I like to fuckin’ hear, atta girl. Now open wide, don’t keep me fucking waiting." he gritted out, watching as she parted her lips and suddenly thrusting his whole length into her mouth, moaning out as he felt her gag around him at the sudden intrusion, but welcoming him in all the same. He fucked her mouth just like that, closing his eyes and pretending it was your mouth he was fucking into instead, feeling her squirm a little underneath him and listening to all the little whimpers and whines coming from her between chokes and gags. He wasn’t exactly quiet either, moaning and groaning without abandon as he pumped himself harshly into her throat.

"Stay still, slut. I'll just fuck harder if you don't stop, leave your throat all bruised from the inside, that what you want, hm?" She sighed a breath through her nose and whined as he said that, stopping her writhing and just laying there, letting him use her mouth for his own pleasure, spreading her legs wider behind him, exposing her pussy to the cool air of his room. Just like he'd wanted.

He continues on like that for a few minutes, until she slaps her hand back on the pillow a few times to let him know she needs some air, pulling out and moving beside her, taking one of her hands and wrapping it around his cock. He moved it up and down, silently instructing her to stroke him, his hand slipping between her legs again and immediately finding her clit, rubbing harsh circles into it for a moment before sliding his fingers down to her entrance and pushing two of his fingers inside her, hearing her moan out his name, not really close to how he’d imagined you would but it would do.

He latched his mouth onto the nipple closest to him and sucked at the peaked bud, licking and slurping at it harshly. He pumped his fingers in and out of her fast and hard, feeling her pussy clench and flutter around his digits, groaning as he made her cum on his fingers after a few short minutes, listening to her moan loudly, calling her a dirty whore and asking her if she liked being used like this, to which she just whimpered and nodded, fucked out and drooling all over herself already.

Steve was too fucking good sometimes. He could have girls squirting with minimal effort sometimes, and yeah maybe he was a little cocky about it. Even if Steve really was only after his own release, he still made sure they had a good time. Good enough they'd come back begging for more and he could have a healthy collection of all kinds of girls he could take his pick from whenever he fancied it.

Soon after, he’s moving between her legs, grabbing both of her calves and pushing her legs right back, her knees almost touching her shoulders. “Think you’re ready for me now, baby. You want daddy’s cock filling you up nice and deep?” he moaned a little, reaching down to position himself at her entrance, not giving her a chance to respond before he was thrusting inside of her and bottoming out immediately.

He didn’t like to waste time with these girls, which is why he immediately got to thrusting inside her, leaning back on his heels as he held her legs up in the air, open wide for him. He listened as she cried out at the stretch of him, grabbing the pillow behind her tightly and screwing her face up as her mouth hung wide open, her tits bouncing obscenely as his balls slapped against her ass with each pump of his hips.

He imagined it was your gorgeous face. Your pretty round tits. You laying on your back underneath him, spread wide for him as he fucked into you faster and harder, groaning and cursing as he watched you lose your fucking mind beneath him, moaning louder and louder with each thrust. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in it, lost in the feeling of the girls tight cunt swallowing him up, lost in the fantasy of fucking you behind Eddie’s back.

He just had to break you down a little first, get you to the point you couldn’t resist and would just have to fuck him. He saw how you looked at him, how you licked those lips at him and your gaze stayed on him the whole time your boyfriend was railing you against the wall. Through his thoughts, he distantly heard a voice moan something about how his dick was so big and how she was gonna cum again.

“I know baby, I know, s’so big isn’t it? You’re so fucking tight jesus f-FUCK, you like being fucked like this? Like being used and being my little stupid cockwhore y/n? Bet you fucking do, such a slut fucking me while you're with Eddie” he moaned out loudly, not even realising what he was fucking saying. Suddenly the girl beneath him went quiet, but he continued on, still rutting into her, eyes closed tightly as he moaned at the thought of what you’d say back to him, imagining all sorts of filth coming out of your mouth.

“What did you just fucking say?” That wasn’t your voice.

Shit. He looked down at the girl beneath him who was giving him daggers, still fucking her but slowing down a little as he gave her a confused look, shaking his head and panting. “What? Do you not like being called a slut or something? I thought you liked it last time” He honestly couldn’t remember if she did or not, but he started to realise what he’d just said and was trying to cover his own ass.

“No, not that you fucking- get off me!” she said, sitting up and slapping at his chest, shuffling back from him as his cock slid out of her and he sat back on his heels, holding his hands out in front of himself and shaking his head again.

“What are you talking about then?”

“Who’s name did you just fucking say?”

“Yours?”

“You absolutely did not fucking say my name! You said Eddie Munsons girlfriend's name!” she barked at him, looking at him as her face screwed up angrily, her eyes narrowing in on him. “Were you just thinking about her while you were fucking me?!”

“What? I didn’t say her name! You’re fucking hearing shit, you’re that fucked out your making shit up in your head, come on babe, stop being fucking stupid and I can make you cum again and give you a nice big load of my mine” he tutted, sighing out loudly as he tried to reach forward for her, but she slapped his hands away, getting up off the bed as she looked around for her clothes. He watched her as she did so, seeing the glisten of her arousal leak down her thighs a little that he wanted to lick up with his tongue. Shit. He’d fucked up. But he only cared because his dick was painfully hard at this point and he really needed to cum. He reached down and began tugging at himself lazily, watching as she started putting her top on.

“Yes you fucking did. Stop jerking off, jesus christ. I thought you actually liked me, I thought that's why you’d called me and asked me to come over again!” she yelled at him, her expression a little hurt but mostly still angry as she hurriedly shimmied her skirt up her legs to her hips, toeing on her sneakers.

Steve was done with this shit. He fucking hated when girls assumed that they meant more to him than a quick dirty lay. He scoffed a laugh at her, shaking his head as he leaned back on his bed on an elbow, still jerking himself as he smirked at her and moaned out a little.

“Baby, you’re really gonna try that? You knew I was just calling you for a fuck, I already told you before I didn’t want anything serious with you” he chuckled, stroking the remnants of her slick over the head of his cock as he grinned at her, all teeth and sharklike. “Besides, what if I did say her name, hm? Can’t blame me, she’s a real fucking pretty girl. Got a pretty cunt too”

“Yeah, like you’d know, Eddie'd fucking kill you if you went near her so I know you haven't." Steve just shrugged and smirked at her, continuing to jerk at himself as he watched her roll her eyes and scoff at him. Oh if only she fucking knew. "Don’t fucking call me again, Steve. Lose my fucking number in that stupid little phone book of yours!” she yelled out, he could see tears pooling in the corners of her eyes as she stormed out of his room and down the stairs, hearing the front door slam shut as Claire From Chem Class left.

He knew he should feel bad, he’d clearly hurt her feelings. But he really didn’t. He’d literally just wanted to fuck her, dump his cum inside her or over her tits or something and then kick her out anyway.

He shrugged to himself, getting up and going over to the panties that she’d not even bothered to look for, taking them in his hand as he lay back against his headboard, wrapping them tightly around his cock and biting his lip, bucking up into his fist as he continued his fantasies about you, openly moaning your name and other disgusting things, rather than just thinking them, now that he was alone.

“Mmm.. you wouldn’t storm out if I said another girls name, would you baby? No, you wouldn’t, you'd be too fucking cockdrunk and gone for me.. Too fucked out with me licking your cunt, making you cum as many times as I could before splitting you open with my dick, you'd take it all baby, wouldn't you?.."

"I need to fuck you so bad, I don’t care if you have a boyfriend or if he knows or not, I need to be inside that fuckin’ dripping hole, need to feel it for myself.."

"Maybe you'd let me in your ass too, oh god, bet s'just as perfect as your pussy, you gonna show that to me too honey? Come on, spread those cheeks for me and lemme see, oh fuck.."

It wasn’t soon after that he was spilling out into the blue lace snug around his length and his hand, moaning out your name loudly. And it wasn’t the first time tonight he’d cum thinking about you. He had to throw those panties out with how many times he’d jizzed all over them while he thought about you and fucking every hole of yours available to him.

The next day at school, people were definitely talking. And Steve wasn’t sure why. He watched a few people whisper and look at him before quickly averting their gaze when he made eye contact. What the hell? He looked at them all confused, watching as a couple people walked by him and held their heads down, giggling as they did so. He sighed to himself, thinking that Carol was spreading more shit around the school about him.

He’d fucked her a few times behind Tommy H’s back, she’d said she was gonna leave Tommy for him because she loved him, Steve laughed at her and told her not to bother. She obviously didn’t take that too well and ended up making up some.. quite honestly entertaining and colourful rumours about Steve and the kind of things he was into. He’d set everyone straight when he revealed the real reason she’d been talking shit, Carol trying to deny that anything happened between her and Steve, but it was written all over her face.

Tommy dumped her on the spot and she chased after him, begging and crying for him to forgive her, saying that it didn’t mean anything, which is clearly not what she’d been saying before.

So he thought nothing of it, thinking she’d started up her hate campaign again because Tommy still wouldn’t take her back. The old rumours were quickly squashed by some other girls confirming that he definitely wasn’t into what she'd said he was and definitely didn’t have a piss kink. Okay, maybe the last one was up for debate a little, since he really did like it when he had girls squirting all over his hands, his cock or his face and he wasn’t sure if that was practically the same thing or not. He’d have to look into it to be totally sure.

He made his way over to his locker, not paying any more mind to the people around him, mentally shrugging it off since he really doesn’t care at the end of the day. He’ll still The King. He was practically untouchable, really. If he could deal with Billy Hargrove literally trying to dethrone him the minute he got here, and it still hadn’t happened? Then nothing could. He opened his locker and began shoving some random shit in there from his bag, picking up a calculus book that he knew he needed for class this afternoon so he wouldn’t need to come back later.

“HARRINGTON!” Eddie barked, turning the corner and immediately finding the exact fucking gross pervert he’d been looking for. He looked fucking livid, clenching his fists by his side as he stormed up to him, his big boots stomping along the linoleum.

Steve turned his head as he heard the angry voice calling his name, freezing on the spot. He wasn’t scared of Eddie, even if he did look a little intimidating and there were rumours about him being a Satan worshipper and a cult leader because of that little D&D club he ran. But the way he was coming towards him, looking a bit unhinged like was ready to kill someone, did give Steve a slight cause for concern. Shit, had you told him? Had he finally found out that you’d been making eyes at Steve behind his back while he jerked off and watched Eddie fuck you?

“Munson, what can I do for you? You look a bit.. pissed off, but that's nothing new really is it?” he laughed a little, shutting over his locker. He was about to turn around when he felt a hand grab at the collar of his shirt, dragging him along and into the empty classroom that was right across the hall from his locker.

Okay, maybe he was a little scared now.

Eddie threw him into the room and Steve stumbled a little, turning around to fix his shirt and brush himself off as he looked at the tall metalhead who was slamming the door shut and locking it, turning to face him again and slowly stepping towards the slightly shorter boy. Steve wasn’t scared at all now, he was just fucking annoyed. “What the fuck Munson?! Who the fuck do you think you’re laying your hands on?” he said, stepping closer to him and poking him in the chest as he did so.

“Whats this I just fucking heard about you fucking Claire Quinn last night, but moaning my girls fucking name while you were doing her?” he spat confidently, his jaw clenching tightly as he finished his sentence.

"Oh that was her name. Claire Quinn." Steve chuckled a little meanly. "Just had her down as Claire from Chem Class"

Eddie was well known to be protective and possessive over you. He didn’t like any guy looking at you for a little too long or in a certain way, always pulling you closer to him and giving them death stares. Sometimes it’d get the better of him though and he’d get physical with these guys depending on what they said or did. He’d punched Gareth once for saying that he thought you looked nice today. He soon apologised to him, realising that Gareth was actually just being nice. He'd smacked a cafeteria tray across Jason Carvers face once when he smiled at you. He didn't apologise to him.

The random guy that one time in The Hideout who grabbed your ass and said that your boyfriend didn’t need to know about it if you went home with him (when said boyfriend was stood right behind him as he said it) even after you'd told him you really weren't interested, deserved the broken nose, the missing tooth and both of you being banned from coming back for a month. It was worth missing a few gigs to Eddie, to know he’d successfully protected what was his. You’d ridden him in the back of his van 5 minutes later too, so he knew it’d turned you on and you liked it.

Steve just looked at him, blinking at him for a second before he burst out laughing, walking over to a desk and leaning back against it, folding his arms over his chest as he shook his head. “So that's what everyones been talking about huh?” he laughed quietly again, shrugging his shoulders and smirking at Eddie. “And what if I did?”

“Don’t fucking play with me, Steve. I really do not give a fuck who you are around here, I will knock your fucking teeth out if you even think about my girl again” he stepped right up to him, pointing a finger in his smarmy fucking face. Usually people would retreat by now, as soon as Eddie bared his teeth to them.

But Steve wasn’t. He continued smirking at him, keeping eye contact and Eddie was a little intimidated himself. After all Steve Harrington was the most popular guy in school and Eddie was literally fucking getting all up in his personal space right now. He could have Eddie’s life ruined in a simple trip to see Chief Hopper and a few mentions of the illicit substances that Eddie was well known around school to be in possession of at almost all times.

“You know you won’t” Steve grinned at him, licking across his teeth a little. “Come on, what's so bad about me thinking about your girl? I mean… I’ve already seen you two fucking behind the gym block”

The colour drained from Eddie’s face. Looking at him with wide eyes, blinking as he processed exactly what he’d just said. Fuck. Was he lying? No, he can't be. No one knew you had both been there or what you'd done. How much exactly had he seen? He scoffed, shaking his head and throwing his hands up in the air as he turned his back to him, slowly stepping away as he tried to think of what to do here.

He was even more annoyed now, especially since he knows for a fact that Steve had seen you in one of your most intimate moments with Eddie. But he also knew if he did to him what he did to that dude from The Hideout, he’d be immediately expelled and he would never graduate. He really needed that fucking diploma this year, he’d already had a do over. He absolutely couldn't do another.

Steve knew he had too much on the line to try anything, at least in school. But they didn’t really cross paths outside. Not really even at parties, since he usually made some girl get his weed for him, thinking he’d be able to get a discount if he did so. And just purely because he knew he could get certain girls to do anything for him and it amused him. “I mean, your girl totally enjoyed it. Shoulda seen the way she was looking at me, licking her lips and shit while I jerked off, she came quite a lot didn’t she? She ever squirted like that with you before? Nice puddle left behind, I'd have got on my knees and fucking drank it from her cunt if I coulda” he laughed, deciding he wanted to poke the bear a little

That was it. Eddie's vision went completely red, he was suddenly like a bull and Steve was the matador.

He turned around and charged towards him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and slamming his back up against the nearest wall, punching him quickly and getting right into his face, almost touching as Steve laughs in his face with his eyes screwed shut, his nose aching from the ring clad fist that just smacked into it. “Don’t you fucking dare say that shit about her. She’d never do that shit. I fucking know my girl and she’s not fucking like that” he growled at him through gritted teeth, watching as Steve lifted a finger up, swiping the tiny amount of blood dripping from his nostril now and continued laughing in his face.

“I’m serious, ask her. She sat there and watched me and she didn’t say shit to you the whole time, she was fucking loving it to making all those noises for both of us” he said, still chuckling a little as he saw Eddie rear up to punch him again. Okay, time to try and deescalate a bit, he was really pushing his buttons and maybe going a little too far here. “Ask her! Just ask her first before you beat my ass, fuck dude" he laughed loudly again, watching as Eddie leaned back a bit, still keeping him pinned to the wall but lowering his other fist. “I know I'm laughing but I'm deadly serious, you need to ask her about it”

Eddie was still raging inside. But as he thought about it, now he was a little angry at you too, not just Steve. Why hadn’t you said anything to him? You had been the one who was so scared about someone catching you that day. So why hadn��t you said a fucking word to him when Steve had inevitably seen you both? He was a tiny bit hurt too, that you willingly let someone watch you both having sex. Especially Steve Harrington, one of the most attractive guys in school, probably in Hawkins actually. Even Eddie thought so, despite the fact he’d absolutely never admit to it.

He stepped back a bit more, letting go of Steve's shirt as he sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, trying to think of exactly how he was going to ask you about this. Trying to decide how he was going to deal with him, now he didn’t know if he actually had a good reason to be violent like he wanted to be.

“What’s it gonna take for you to leave my girlfriend alone and not look at her or.. Or even think about her anymore?” he asked, rubbing at his stubbly chin and finally looking at the annoyingly handsome brown haired boy who was currently trying to fix himself up a little.

Steve scoffed, shaking his head as he fished out a tissue from his bag. “You’re not gonna fucking like what my honest answer would be to that question, Munson. And I’m not exactly thrilled at the possibility of another knuckle sandwich” he chuckled slightly, finally finding a hanky and wiping his nose with it, shoving it back in his bag and ruffling his hand through his hair.

“Just fucking say it, I really don’t fucking care, you’ve already said enough” Eddie sighed a little defeatedly, shaking his head as he turned his gaze to look out the window, crossing his arms over his chest. He was honestly still trying to process what Steve had just told him.

He really couldn’t get over the thought of you just letting someone perv on the two of you and get off to it, encouraging it. And he was also slightly confused about the fact that he thinks he would have found it hot having someone watch, if you had told him at the time. It made his blood boil and his dick twitch all at the same time. This was definitely something he’d have to unpack later on.

Steve studied him as he leaned back on the desk again, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets, crossing his ankles over one another. He thought about it for a second, whether to actually say it or not. He absolutely didn’t need to think about what he wanted to do to you, what it would take. He’d been thinking about that for a whole fucking week now already since he first saw you both. And he’d always fantasised about you anyway, since he’d never even had a chance to get into your panties.

You’d been inseparable from Eddie since pretty much the first week you’d moved to Hawkins, even if you’d only been friends for a few months before you got together. Eddie had made sure of it that no one even got a look in, since he’d fallen in love with you the moment he saw you.

“I wanna fuck her. That's what it'd take. Just once, and then I’ll leave you both alone. If I happen to catch you guys getting it on again, I’ll walk away. It’ll probably make me stop thinking about her too, it’ll be out of my system or something” He fucking wouldn’t stop thinking about you, he never would. You were literally the one thing he couldn’t ever have and that made you even more desirable to him. And Steve wasn’t one to give up without a bit of a fight to get what he wanted. At least if he got to fuck you, he’d be able to dig up the memories while he jerked off or fucked some other girl.

Eddies head snapped round at him as soon as he said he wanted to fuck you, staring at him in complete fucking disbelief. He burst out laughing and shook his head. “Not a fucking chance in hell, Harrington. You can get that idea so fucking far out of your head” he chuckled, staring the boy down as he licked across his teeth and clenched his jaw again. Who the fuck did this asshole think he was? He’d just punched him in the face for saying shit about you, did he seriously think he’d just give you to him, like he was loaning him a guitar or something, and let him rail you?

Steve shrugged, looking down at his shoes as he toed a scuff mark off the side of one of them. “Then at least let me watch again” he said matter of factly, shrugging as he smirked and looked back at Eddie. “One last time, then I swear I won’t bother the lovely couple ever again” he chuckled, rolling his eyes at how ridiculous that sounded.

Eddie stared at him, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he mulled it over. He really fucking didn’t want to let him watch. He didn't want him to see you as you fell apart under Eddie's touch again. But he also kinda really did? Besides, it would be a one off thing. And it’d keep Steve away from you. If you’d really already let him watch before, then he’d already seen everything…

“Okay, fine,” Eddie said quietly, throwing his hands in the air in surrender. “One fucking time. But I swear to god Harrington…” he stalked towards him, pointing a long thick finger at him. Steve wonders if he got close enough if he’d be able to smell you off of his fingers still, from the last time they’d been plunged inside you. “If I even so much as hear a single fucking thing of you saying her name again or talking about her or.. Or.. you even so much as breathing near her.. I’ll do worse than punch you in that big fuckin' nose again"

Steve smirked at him, keeping eye contact as he narrowed his slightly, licking at his lips slowly and not missing the way the tall metalheads eyes linger on them for a second too long. He felt his cock kick up in his jeans at the mere suggestion of seeing you exposed to him again. He’d have to go deal with that before class. He's sure he has a Polaroid or two of Pam in his bag that he stole from her bedroom the last time he fucked her that he could use as quick spank material.

“Deal.” he said, grabbing hold of Eddie's hand and shaking it, startling the long haired boy slightly. “Just let me know where and when, Munson. If that's all and we’re done here..” Steve said, grinning at him as he leaned down and picked up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder as he patted the metalhead on his own a little patronisingly, making his way over to the door and leaving the room, heading down the hallway to get rid of the now uncomfortable bulge he was packing in his pants.

He had a smug fucking smile on his face the whole way to bathroom, thinking of how he would soon see your perfect body again.

Hopefully you'd love his eyes on you while you're spread out and being made to cum as much as you did last time.

I'd like to thank @elvendria @changemunson and @emsgoodthinkin for their help and encouragement on this chapter. I really REALLY could not have done it without you all, especially Elvendria who had to sit and listen to me have a fucking Menty B over a discord call because of some stuff that's now gonna be in part 3 lmfao.

Banner by me, dividers by @saradika

Taglist: @aol19 @thewillowsareskipping @htycp890 @sllooney @justmeinadaze @inesven @tlclick73 @munsonslure @madaboutjoe @falling-throughthe-hourglass @hazzaismyreligion @jjmaybankswifes-blog @lilianraynne @moonflower1387 @eddiesguitarskills @ancientcrone-blog @dovakinbruh @sameyessblue @love-me-satoru @peach97 @org12 @fireflyislands @5tud10-54r4h @kennzie @myfavoritesareproblematic @emsgoodthinkin @lunakitty2608 @hideoutside @thegothicfox @kelseyms-world @bandaids-n-porcelain

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atinylittlepain · 10 months ago

Text

Warm

college!steve harrington x f!oc

series masterlist

Steve gets flustered in an art museum. She kind of likes it.

18+ smut, normal hairy female bodies, steve is kind of a perv in the best way, smut duh, and verrryyyyyy sweet, also robin and eddie being good roommates

note: the painting that Andy and Steve look at is called l'origine du monde by Gustave Corbet and you can check it out here. This fic is for bush (not the president) and bush only, thanks.

.............................................................................

Steve is a good guy, right? Right. Respectful, respectable, two percent in his cheerios in the morning, light wash denim and clean sneakers, and he flosses two times a day, clean bill at every dentist appointment and he shows it, curls half a smile when he holds the door open for girls on campus, all ease, all-American and alright. Studying business, and of course he is, though his parents don’t know about the women’s studies minor he picked up all because of a flushed little crush on a professor that never amounted to anything, coupled with Robin strong-arming him into taking a few more classes with her. But that’s okay, he likes the classes, and he likes the classmates.

“Do you need a partner?”

“Hmm? Oh, I was just going to work alone actually.” Big scarf tucked up around her neck and a big coat wrapped up around her and she barely even glances at him down the slope of her nose, already refocusing on the painting in front of her. But he’s a good guy, right? Right. A real team player, tilting his head, and letting his hair fall into his face, a little shy, a little smile. She glances at him, unimpressed hook of her brow and her eyelashes lifting up over the rims of her glasses. Her name is Andy, he knows, though they haven’t spoken, at least not directly. She’s been known to correct him in class however, her hand raising after his, quick and cutting. He maybe, kinda, sorta likes that.

“I think we’re supposed to, you know, discuss what we’re looking at with each other for the VHS thing.”

“VTS.”

“What?”

“It’s called VTS. Visual thinking strategies. Are you sure you want to discuss this painting with me?”

“I’m game if you are.” She smiles, and he’s already thinking about which of her palms he’d like to write his number on. But when he finally looks at the painting, he finds himself to be a lot less concerned with his phone number.

“So, Steve, what’s the first thing you notice about this painting?”

“Um, well, I–”

“Is it too much for you?” Heat is prickling in a bloom up his neck, her smile sharp as her eyes flit between him and the painting, the painting that he really should have looked at before approaching her.

“No, no, it’s not too much. It’s– appreciation of the female form, right?” He’s not sure where to look any more, a strange kaleidoscope with how quickly his eyes are darting between scraps of the painting and her face. A freckle under her eye, and then swaths of cream and pink brush strokes and then the hitch in her cheek where her smile curves and then, and then.

“Hair.” His voice pitches and cracks somewhere in the word, turning one syllable into two like a hiccup. She laughs a clipped sound.

“Hair?”

“Around her– around her–”

“Around her cunt?” Something hot tightens in his chest, maybe shame, though shame doesn’t feel good like this does. He feels foolish, the quick whip of his head around like he’s worried they’re going to get caught, though for what he isn’t sure. Likewise, he has no clue what’s causing this devastating fluster, this feathering of heat. Whatever it is, it’s making it very hard to look at her, though the way his gaze has fixed on the painting doesn’t feel much better either. He’s never heard a woman use that word before. Actually, scratch that, he’s pretty sure he’s never heard anyone use that word before, not in Hawkins, at least, not corn fed and halfway bible bred, at least. It sets something slick shimmering inside of him, something warm that’s making it hard to think.

“Are you blushing?”

“I’m not, I’m just appreciating the work.”

“L’origine du monde.”

“What was that?”

“That’s the name of the painting. Origin of the world.”

“Well, that, uh, I guess that tracks.”

“It’s a shame, don’t you think?” When he does finally look at her again, she’s smiling, all ease, all cool, and him anything but, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm into his hip.

“What’s a shame?” She sighs, a long sound, letting her neck roll to the side so her cheek scrunches into the plush of her scarf, a wistful look.

“The current trends. Looking like prepubescent girls. No hips, bald vaginas, everything so… sterile.” She speaks with a bluntness that winds him, if he’s being honest, her expression schooled, and maybe a little disillusioned, brow pinched and mouth pulling down in a grimace.

“I guess I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Yeah, well, you have a cock. Makes things a little simpler, doesn’t it?”

“Jesus Christ, do you always talk like this?” He says it just a little too loud, a little too breathless, heads turning in the gallery around them, and he thinks he might regret even trying with this girl. Should’ve stuck with the tried and true, that blonde girl that wears sticky sweet lip gloss and smiles at him from across the room during lectures. But this girl, with her arched brow and her twitching smile and the dark flicker of nail polish when she smooths the throat of her scarf. This girl has his number, and not in the way he’d like her to.

“What do you prefer, Steve? Do you like a girl with a smooth shave?”

“Well I think that, um, a woman’s body is her own choice.” And it has to be the dumbest string of words he’s ever said, breathed out on two static exhales, a garbled parroting of what he’s learned in these classes, right? Well, sort of.

“How progressive of you.”

“But the painting is really, you know, it’s, um, it feels warm?” Not sure where that came from, another fresh flood of heat rising and buoying up into his cheeks. Though her expression seems to soften, her smirk falling into something lighter. Maybe, maybe, he got one right.

“Yeah, I think I get what you mean. There’s a softness to it that’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

“Mmhmm.”

“But also a strength, a frankness to it.”

“Yes, yeah.” That sick swirl of shame but not shame is receding, and only leaving a nice sort of haze in its place, his head lolling a little, eyes raking over the painting, the catch of light, the soft rounding of a body at rest, slumped and plush and kind of perfect, he thinks. Although he’s pretty sure Andy would correct him for perfect, perfect not being the point, because perfect is oppressive, right? Right. Fuck perfect, he thinks, this is something better than perfect. And maybe she is too.

“Steve?” Her hand on his arm, purple nail polish and a close-lipped smile snapping him back into his body, hmm? And her smile spreads, and the warmth does too, and she’s saying something about the prof calling them back together and he’s mmhmm-ing on the heels of her brown leather boots. And she sits next to him when they get back on the bus, Robin giving him a stink eye that breezes right over the top of his head as she passes down the aisle because he’s a little busy trying to take discreet inhales through his nose of whatever perfume Andy wears, spice and strong and warm, that same warm.

And it isn’t his number that gets jotted onto her palm, but her address that she scrawls onto the soft inside of his wrist, right over the catch and jump of his pulse, because she has invited him over for a drink tonight to continue our conversation from earlier.

Robin doesn’t even have a chance to snit at him for leaving her stranded to the back of the bus because he’s already shuffling her along by the crooked wing of his elbow, hands tucked down deep in his jacket pockets, snow starting to flit and fall from the gray hang of sky.

“I need your help.”

“You have a date.”

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s a date. She was like, rubbing your wrist. That’s a date.”

“I need your help.”

“Yeah, you do.”

Because Andy is not light washed denim and polo shirts and two percent milk. He’s seen her in the campus coffee shop, she takes soy, sometimes almond, for the record. So when they get back to their apartment, the smell of electric heat washing over them and curling in their lungs, they don’t go to Steve’s closet, they go to Robin’s.

Robin’s first pull is a turtleneck. He scoffs.

“What? Turtleneck dudes are definitely that chick’s type. Are you kidding me right now?” And when he assures her that he is, in fact, not kidding her right now, Robin starts to rummage again, eventually coming back out with a t-shirt for a band that Steve only knows because he has asked Robin to turn their music down on several occasions. And before he can say anything Robin is please hold-ing him and shouting down the hall for Eddie.

“What?”

“Steve has a date with a cool girl.”

“Cool girl, what cool girl?”

“Soc major, with the boots.”A little flurry of activity, socked feet slipping down the hall and Eddie hanging off the doorframe of his room, Steve not able to get a word in edgewise between their rapid fire volley.

“No, really? Little different for you, man, isn’t it?”

“I–”

“We need your closet, excuse us.” Robin on the warpath and Eddie grinning big, and Steve somewhere in the middle.

“How’d this happen?”

“She–”

“They were talking about art.” Robin reappearing with a long-sleeved thermal gripped in her other hand, eyebrows waggling.

“Steven? Our Steven? Talking about art? Well, well, well.” If he just had time he’d say something back to Eddie about how he got kicked out of the art museum last weekend for making quacking noises every time the security guard took a step, but Robin is already ushering him back down the hall, into his room this time, shoving the bundle of clothes into his chest and slamming the door shut on her way out.

Eddie is anemic and tends to eat breakfast when the sun is going down, and Robin is Robin, so it’s a tight fit getting the thermal on, followed by the t-shirt. But looking in the mirror, he thinks he likes it, gives an experimental and not at all vain flex of his arms that makes the sleeves of the tshirt roll back up toward the round of his shoulders and yeah, he likes that. And when he steps out of his room, Robin and Eddie already hovering and humming their approval, that warmth starts to build and bloom all over again.

And the rest is a little hazy from there. Robin offers him two refrigerator-chilled potstickers from last night’s dinner, something about fuel for your evening, Stevening, while Eddie pours himself a bowl of corn pops and prattles about something he learned in his music theory class, dissonance and skipped beats, and Steve can understand the feeling. And then they’re both kicking him out with an all too solemn godspeed, soldier. Eddie even salutes him.

Andy lives on the opposite side of campus in a cropping of apartments in a building that looks kind of like a castle, old brownstone and wrought iron. She buzzes him up, opens the door in a thin turtleneck and jeans, her head tilting and her lip pouting, just a little.

“Where’d the polo shirt go?”

“I changed.” Excellent, he thinks, how astute of him. She smiles.

“I can see. I wouldn’t have pegged you as a Bikini Kill fan though.” He’s trying to focus on her as she leads him deeper into her apartment, though his eyes still wander. Old wood flooring that’s barely visible underneath the thick swaths of patterned rugs. A crushed velvet, lime green sofa sitting in front of a fireplace that’s packed full with books. The kitchen is tucked into a corner, a little patch of black and white linoleum, old appliances. She’s pouring wine at the counter with her foot pressed into her other calf in a sort of shortened tree pose, and she’s asking him if he likes red, and he nods, all the while thinking to himself that he hasn’t consumed enough wine that doesn’t come in boxes to really care what color it is.

They sit down on the lime green sofa, her arm draped over the back of it, fingers tipped toward him. And he’s trying not to be such a dweeb about it, really, he’s not, but it only takes a few bashful glances to know that she very much is not wearing a bra. And he likes that, likes that a lot. Likes the soft curve and fold of her stomach with the way she’s turned toward him, the stretch of her jeans at her hips, her thighs, and his mouth goes dry around a gulp of wine when he starts to think about that painting again, and he starts to think about her, and he starts to think about her and the painting together. He starts to wonder, to wonder, to wonder what similarities he might find between the two.

There’s conversation, quiet and meandering and murmuring, their mouths staining dark and rosy from the wine, bodies turning warm and pliant and inching closer, closer, closer. And it all starts to melt, empty glasses set aside and her hand slipping into the back of his hair and she’s going to be the one in control, isn’t she? Fine by him, lax and languid in her hands, letting her tilt his face toward her. The first kiss is surprisingly sweet, just a peck to the corner of his mouth that makes him breathe hard through his nose in a petty huff of anticipation. She grins, lets the next one take its time, a little deeper, a little more heat, open mouth against open mouth, and he groans when her tongue slips behind his teeth.

This would be enough, he thinks. This time, at least. Her settling into his lap, little pants of breath between the wet snap of lips and spit and tongues. His hands squeeze at her thighs, coaxing a skittering sound from her throat when he reaches back and cups her ass, fingers splayed and pressing petulant. He’s going to feel her fingers in his scalp for a few days, the little hurts, little pulls. The next time she pulls away she presses her hand into his chest to keep him at bay, even as he tilts his chin up, feeling young in his eagerness as she smiles wide-eyed at him.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Both of them whispering, and when they both realize they don’t know why they’re whispering, both of them giggling, getting away with something when she pulls him up off the couch and into her bedroom.

“Why is this shirt so tight?” She huffs it out with the tshirt halfway rucked up his torso, his hair falling in his face as he curls over trying to help her get it off, both of them breathing out a laugh when the fabric finally is up and over and off of him.

“Oh baby, your hair.” He likes baby, baby feels good, feels like another warm bloom in his chest, his smile turning sheepish when she reaches both hands into his hair, shaking it out at the roots before smoothing it back for him. He chases after her hand, manages to press a kiss to her palm before she’s reaching for the hem of his, Eddie’s, thermal. It comes off easier, quieter, her eyes softening as she takes in his bare chest, catching him off guard when she ducks her head down to press a kiss to the dip that connects the lines of his collar bone, there and gone, little sweetness, little warmth as she steps back and grins.

“Do you wanna lay down for me?” Not even a thought, just ligament and muscle moving, some sort of game dancing between their eyes as he settles back on his elbows against the dark fabric of her duvet. He watches the fine flicker of her fingers make deft work of the buttons of her jeans. An absent-minded thing, the heel of his palm pressed to the ache, to the heat. He’s already hard, already smearing warm against the front of his boxers watching her step out of her jeans.

“Oh fuck, honey.” A little pained, the sweet prickle of agony, of being right. A vision somewhere between obscenity and divinity, he thinks, though that would be playing into the madonna-whore complex their professor was lecturing about last week. He doesn’t care, doesn’t care about much of anything except continuing to look at Andy, the soft divot at her waist where her white cotton thong settles against the soft curve of skin, and the dark bloom of curls along the sides of the material where her thighs touch. He was right, and now he’s doomed.

She smiles, finger hooking in the hem of her shirt and pulling it up just a little, exposing the sweet dip and swell of her stomach, and suddenly he’s not so interested in just laying back any more. Greedy, he feels the slick, desperate curl of it in his gut. Greedy when he shuffles up onto his knees and crawls to the end of the bed. Greedy when his hands curl at the fat of her hips and he pulls her in closer so he can press the open heat of his mouth just above her navel, soft and warm and he wants more of it, of her. She sighs, a long, languid sound that he wants to hear more of, dipping his head down to mouth at the jut of her hip, dampening the fabric slung taut there.

Limbs tangled with limbs, some of it graceless, awkward, some of it perfect motion. She lays out like a painting, like the painting, for him, her turtleneck curled up around her sternum so he can palm a handful of her breast, settling down between her thighs and wasting no time in dragging his tongue through her cunt.

She wasn’t wrong about the trends. Hairless bodies, smooth bodies, flinchingly pristine bodies. And that’s fine, he thinks, been with plenty of bodies like that, made his body like that for a while too. But he likes this, likes her, the sense and sate of it, the scent of it, even if it makes him a pervert, lapping at her while he curls two fingers inside her. And somewhere in the simpering sear of it, his hips have started to jerk and stutter into the mattress beneath him, picking up a stilted speed when she starts to moan, clipped sounds and his name and he wants it and he wants it and he wants it so bad. She comes with a long sigh that cracks high into a whine, her thighs tensing and slackening around his face. And he feels a warmth of his own, relief of his own, though the reality of what he did turns him sheepish, pressing a bashful smile into the swell of her inner thigh.

“Did you?” Her words crackle breathless with her grin, peering down at him from behind her forearm and he can barely look at her, turning his face back into her skin, letting his teeth graze there a little mean.

“Maybe, shut up.” Her laugh bursts and bubbles up, her head tossed back, eyes crinkled shut as he crawls up and up and up, not evening minding the uncomfortable cooling in his jeans when he presses a sloppy kiss to her mouth, turning her laugh into a satisfied hum.

“Hmm, kinda feminist of you coming in your jeans just from eating me out.” Speechless, and he kind of likes it, huffing out a breathless laugh as he watches the cartoonish jump of her eyebrows. He presses a kiss between them, sweet and simple, warm all over when he pulls back to find her smiling at him.

“I like you, a lot.” That whispering thing again, a little shy, a little young, and a little uncertain. But there’s no need for it, not when she tilts her chin up and presses a kiss to his cheek, the round of it, the warmth of it.

“I like you too, Steve.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington ficlet #steve harrington au

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liyliths · 2 months ago

Text

౨ৎ ⋆ ｡˚ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑

summary: you thought you lost nancy, and you've supposedly figured out what's causing your nightmares. also, hopper is apparently interested in conspiracies about children with telekinesis, wonder where that one will go! while you're shopping for supplies to go monster hunting with nancy and jon, you run into the one and only: steve harrington, who sucks at relationships, and you can guess how that one ends. hopper finally finds out you've been tracking down a monster, and you've concluded everyone is absolutely terrible at keeping secrets!

The boy coldly looked down at Nancy, then shifted his hardened gaze to Y/N standing beside her. “And you, Smith, find some better friends. You’re better than a perv and a cheater.” Y/N’s jaw clenched, but she kept her voice steady. “You know what’s funny?” She called after him as he began to walk away, her voice sharp. Steve stopped in his tracks, turning to face her, waiting for her to speak. “I didn’t even know you and Nancy were dating. Hell, I never saw you act like it.” Steve locked eyes with Y/N, waiting for the girl to get to her point. “I also know cheating applies to flirting with other girls while you’re in a relationship, Harrington. Get some fucking self-respect.”

pairings: steve harrington x reader

warnings: cursing, mentions of blood, fist fighting, mentions of nightmares, and steve harrington sucks at relationships

word count: 8.2k

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The moonlight shined through the trees overhead, casting a gentle blue hue. The forest seemed to close in around Y/N and Jonathan as they raced through the trees with their hearts pounding in their chests. Y/N’s flashlight cut through the oppressive darkness, its beam darting from tree to tree, searching—praying for a sign, desperation growing with each step.

She couldn’t lose Nancy too.

“Nancy!” Y/N desperately shouted for the missing girl, making rushed steps through the dark forest.

"Nancy!" Jonathan’s voice strained after Y/N’s as it echoed through the trees, the urgency clear in his tone. The silence that followed gnawed at Y/N’s nerves, and her pulse quickened as they followed their tracks back to where Nancy was before they split up. Then, something flickered in the distance—something out of place. "There," Y/N pointed ahead, her voice barely above a whisper as she spotted the sight of a tree with Nancy's belongings scattered at its base. Jonathan’s head snapped in its direction, and they both sprinted toward it, skidding to a halt as their flashlights illuminated the scene.

It wasn't the belongings that caught their attention—it was the gaping hole in the trunk, like a bright wound torn open in the bark, making Y/N’s blood run cold.

It was just like the one she had seen in her nightmare.

“Nancy!” Y/N screamed out, desperately now, only to be met with silence—the breeze whispering through the trees as if mocking their efforts.

“Y/N?!” Nancy’s voice suddenly screeched back, echoing through the dark forest—except she was nowhere to be found, her voice faint in the breeze.

“Follow our voices!” Jonathan shouted, kneeling in front of the tree, looking into the gaping portal with desperation growing in every inch of his body, searching for any sign of the girl.

“Nancy!” Y/N's shout pierced through the forest, calling out for the girl. “Where the hell is she?” Y/N's eyes darted around the trees, not spotting Nancy anywhere—despite her voice being so close.

She then knelt beside Jonathan in front of the tree and shined the beam of her flashlight into it, getting a closer look. They examined the hole in the tree, it gaped like torn-open flesh in the trunk, with the faintest glowing orange pulse coming from the inside of it.

“What the...?” Jonathan whispered, his voice trembling. Y/N’s flashlight flickered over the dark, slick surface of the portal as she moved closer, hypnotized by the sight. She swallowed hard, her fingers itching to touch the strange, otherworldly portal.

“Don’t—” Jonathan protested as he reached for her arm, but before he could stop her, Y/N's fingertips already grazed the slick surface.

Suddenly—a hand burst forth from the depths of the portal. Y/N screamed, stumbling backward, her heart lurching into her throat as she and Jonathan fell back to the ground in shock. Their flashlights flickered wildly, casting long, distorted shadows across the forest floor.

"Help!" Nancy's desperate scream echoed through the darkness of the woods, crying out. Y/N stared at the slick, pale hand that now protruded from the portal, her chest heaving.

“Jonathan, help me!” She scrambled forward, clutching Nancy's hand as she desperately tried to pull her friend back to safety. The cold, slimy texture sent a shiver down her spine, but she held on tight, refusing to let go.

Together, Y/N and Jonathan pulled with every ounce of strength they could muster, their hands trembling as they fought against the strange, resistant pull of the portal. Nancy’s cries grew louder, more desperate—as her upper body began to emerge from the depths of the twisted tree, covered in the thick slime.

“Come on, Nancy!” Jonathan’s voice was hoarse, his knuckles turning white as he gripped Nancy’s arm.

Y/N’s muscles burned, her fingers slipping against the thick layer of slime coating Nancy’s skin, but she refused to let go. Her face strained, squeezing her eyes shut as her brows furrowed together. With a final, strained pull, Nancy came tumbling out of the portal, crashing into their arms as they collapsed together on the forest floor.

For a moment, none of them spoke, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Nancy clung to them, trembling uncontrollably, her face pale and her eyes wide with terror. Y/N pulled her closer, wrapping her arms even tighter around her friend, her heart pumping out of her chest with adrenaline.

“It’s okay,” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky as she stroked her friend’s slick hair. “You’re okay. You’re safe now.”

Nancy’s breath hitched as she tried to steady herself, clinging to her friends as if they were her lifeline. As Y/N and Jonathan held onto Nancy, they faced the tree she came out of—watching in stunned silence as the gaping portal in the bark began to close, sealing itself shut, until it was nothing more than an ordinary tree that no one would even look twice at.

Y/N locked eyes with Jonathan—questions written all over her expression. She swallowed hard, pushing down her panic. “We need to get out of here,” she said quietly, her eyes darting nervously around the dark woods.

Jonathan stood first, offering his hands to the girls to help them up. “Let’s get back to the car,” he said, his voice steady, though his hands trembled as he helped Nancy and Y/N to their feet, feeling the slight tremor lingering through Nancy’s shocked body.

𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧’𝐬 𝐂𝐚𝐫

The dark road stretched out in the night, only illuminated by the faint glow of the vehicle's headlights. The moon hung low in the sky, casting light over the treetops that framed the narrow path. Inside the car, the tension was heavy. The hum of the engine sounded, but it did little to ease the growing discomfort between the group.

Nancy sat in the back seat beside Y/N, her hands clasped tightly together, trembling slightly as she spoke. She didn’t look like herself—her face was pale, with big, wide eyes. Her clothing, which was usually neat and put together, still held traces of the slime that had covered her in the woods.

"Then I stepped on one of those vines—they were moving. Like…" She trailed off, her voice still shaken. She glanced down at her feet, not meeting anyone’s gaze, but her mind was clearly elsewhere—back in the woods, back in that terrifying place she escaped from.

Y/N sat beside Nancy and felt her stomach twist. “Like living veins?” She asked softly, finishing Nancy’s sentence, snapping the girl back to reality.

“Yeah… like veins.” Nancy nodded, furrowing her eyebrows in thought, pausing for a brief moment.

“Your sketchbook… when you showed us what you saw in your dream back in the photo lab, that’s exactly what everything looked like,” Nancy recalled, a lightbulb going off in her mind. She turned in her seat, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Do you still have it with you?”

Without a word, Y/N nodded, slowly pulling the sketchbook from her shoulder bag. Her fingers felt cold as she flipped through the pages, each sketch bringing a new wave of dread washing over her. She hesitated for a moment, then pointed to the page Nancy had been referring to—the monster. Its twisted form, surrounded by the same vein-like vines that Nancy had described, stared back at them in pencil and ink.

“That,” Nancy’s voice was almost a whisper as she reached out to trace her finger along the edges of the sketch. “That’s the thing I saw. But how… how did you see this in your dream before any of this even happened?” Her eyes darted between Y/N’s, filled with confusion.

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat dry. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely audible over the low rumble of the car. She glanced out the window, watching the dark forest blur by. “It feels like… with everything going on, they keep getting worse—the dreams.”

Jonathan’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, watching the exchange between the two girls, his brows furrowed in concern. He hadn’t said much since Nancy began talking about what she saw, but his silence was filled with the same unspoken dread they all felt.

Nancy looked back at Y/N, her expression urgent. “Have you had any more? Since… since all of this?” She questioned, her voice hushed—as though afraid the answer would be yes.

Y/N slowly nodded, her hands trembling as she clutched the sketchbook in her lap. “Yeah. The last one…” She paused, struggling to find the right words. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the lines of the drawing, feeling the weight of it all.

"It was different this time. Worse.”

As Y/N finished her sentence, the air in the car felt heavy, as though they were all bracing for something none of them were prepared to hear.

“What did you see?” Jonathan softly urged, his voice quiet but firm, eyes darting in the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of Y/N.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she began to speak, her voice trembling. “It was like… I was back in the woods again. But everything was wrong. The trees were twisted, covered in those same vines, except they weren’t just moving… they were alive. Pulsing with this dark, slimy goo. The air was so thick, it felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

Jonathan tightened his grip on the steering wheel as Y/N spoke, his knuckles turning white. Nancy’s hand, still hovering over the sketch, trembled slightly as she listened.

“And then… I heard Barb,” Y/N’s voice wavered as she spoke her name, taking a breath.

“She was crying for help. I—I tried to run toward her, I almost had her, but the ground… it's like it opened up, and she… she was pulled under. I reached out, but I couldn’t—” Her voice broke, unable to finish her sentence, fidgeting with the hem of her jacket to distract herself from the lump forming in the back of her throat.

Nancy’s hand slowly raised to her mouth, her own eyes filling with tears as she imagined what Y/N had seen. “Is Barb…” Nancy tried to speak, but her breath hitched, her voice catching in her throat.

Jonathan, silent but focused, finally spoke up, his voice steady. “You think these dreams… they’re like some kind of warning? Or…” He trailed off, not knowing what to believe anymore.

Y/N shrugged, shaking her head as she tucked strands of hair that fell in her face behind her ear. “I don’t know… But every time I wake up, I feel like… something worse is going to happen. Like, I’m seeing things that I shouldn’t be.”

Nancy took a shaky breath, trying to gather her thoughts. “Then maybe…” She began slowly, her voice laced with unease. “That creature, the one from your dream—it has to be what took Barb. What took Will, maybe the answers are right in front of us…”

Y/N hesitantly nodded, her mind swirling with the terrifying possibility.

Jonathan’s voice cut through the thick tension. “It makes sense. The creature was eating that deer which was already bleeding out before we got to it… maybe it’s attracted to blood.”

Nancy’s expression hardened as she spoke, her face set into a determined line. “It’s out there. We have to stop that thing before it takes anyone else.”

Y/N stared at her sketchbook, feeling a heavy knot of dread forming in her stomach. She flipped through more pages, her drawings feeling much less like dreams—and more like glimpses of the horrifying reality she was beginning to find herself in.

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫

A pair of headlights cut through the darkness outside Hopper’s trailer, their harsh beams illuminating the swirling cloud of bugs that buzzed toward the light. The quiet hum of insects filled the night, their flutters growing louder as they gathered at the light.

Y/N stepped out of Jonathan’s Ford, the cool fall air hitting her skin. Nancy, still visibly shaken, slid out of the backseat to take her place in the front.

“Call me if you guys need anything,” Y/N said, watching as Nancy buckled herself in the passenger seat, her eyes distant.

“Got it,” Jonathan replied, his voice tinged with concern. His gaze drifted toward the empty driveway, finding Hopper’s car nowhere in sight. “And you’re sure Hopper will be here soon?”

“Yeah, he’ll be back soon.” Y/N offered a reassuring nod, though she wasn’t certain. With a final wave, she made her way up the gravel path to the trailer, listening to the crunch of her footsteps as Jonathan’s car pulled away, its taillights fading into the night.

Shaking off her unease, Y/N unlocked the front door and stepped inside, greeted by a blanket of darkness. She flipped the lock behind her, a chill running down her spine as she touched the cold metal. She tossed her bag onto the couch near the front door, the thud of it against the cushions muffled in the quiet room.

It wasn’t like Hopper to be out this late. Y/N scanned the room, her eyes drawn to the glowing red numbers on the clock, 10:34 PM. Hopper should have been home by now. Although it’s been usual for him to be running late with everything going on, he’s usually back no past ten PM.

Her fingers hesitated on the TV remote as she stood before switching it on, the static-filled screen flickering to life, bathing the room in a dull glow. She switched on the nearby lamp, the warm light doing little to chase away the strange feeling gnawing at her gut. It wasn’t until she sat down that she realized something was off—really off.

The trailer was a mess.

Newspapers were strewn across the coffee table, articles scattered, as though someone had been frantically scanning through them. Empty beer cans littered the floor, some crushed, others standing untouched. Pill bottles were scattered on the table, some toppled over, their contents spilled. But what really caught Y/N’s eye was the phone—it had been unplugged, lying lifeless next to the wall socket.

Most of all, why was Hopper drinking again?

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she stepped toward the cluttered table, the papers crinkling under her fingers as she flipped through them. One article stood out immediately:

"Terry Ives Suing" ‘They took my daughter’

By Benjamin Buck

“After the district attorney’s office declined to press criminal charges citing lack of evidence, local resident Terry Ives is not giving up her search for justice for herself and her daughter, and this morning filed a lawsuit against research scientist Dr. Martin Brenner and his staff.”

“Ms. Ives's suit seeks unspecified damages against Dr. Brenner and his facility, alleging physical abuse, sleep deprivation, malnourishment, and kidnapping. The suit alleges Dr. Brenner’s group was negligent in communicating the risks of the study, and in verifying Ives was physically fit for—”

Y/N’s eyes darted to the other articles and photos scattered across the table. Images of children in hospital gowns, their heads shaved clean, their faces devoid of any emotion. One image stuck out—a small girl, not as old as the others, staring blankly into the camera. A chill ran down her spine.

“Experimenting on children? Telekinesis? This is heavy stuff,” Y/N whispered to herself, shaking her head as she attempted to wrap her mind around the articles she examined. There was no way any of this was real, it had to be written by conspiracists.

It was crazy—beyond crazy.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden flash of headlights spilling through the window. She froze, her pulse quickening as the familiar sound of Hopper’s vehicle engine cut through the still night. She watched from the corner of her eye as the man stepped out, moving quickly toward the front door.

The door swung open with a creak, and Hopper’s eyes immediately locked onto Y/N’s in the living room, who was still standing by the coffee table, clutching one of the articles in her hand.

“What is all of this?” Y/N’s voice cut through the tension as she gestured to the mess around her. She stepped forward, watching Hopper carefully as he shut the door behind him. His face was covered with exhaustion, but there was something else there too, something Y/N couldn’t quite place.

“It’s, um…” Hopper hesitated, clearly caught off guard. He glanced around the room, his eyes briefly landing on the crumpled beer cans and scattered pills, slightly panicking.

“A friend dropped by. Brought me some stuff, y’know, to read.” He reached for the cans, scooping them up in one hand and tossing them into the trash can with a clatter. “They know I like to keep up with the papers,” he added, as if that explanation would somehow smooth everything over.

Y/N crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Really?” She dragged, her voice dripping with skepticism as she glanced down at the articles again.

“Really.” Hopper mocked, his tone confident.

“Because last time I checked, you weren’t into conspiracy theories about missing kids with mind powers, and you quit drinking.” Y/N shot back.

Hopper stilled for a moment, his expression faltering as he busied himself with plugging the phone back into the wall. He didn’t answer, and that only confirmed what Y/N already suspected—he was hiding something.

"Go to bed, kid. I'll clean this up," Hopper mumbled, turning away. His tone was evasive, as if ending the conversation would bury the entire topic. "You might be on your own for breakfast. Got an early start tomorrow."

Y/N didn’t move, her eyes narrowing as she watched him. As she held one of the articles, Hopper passed her and grabbed it out of her hands, stacking it with the rest of the articles. She could see right through him.

There was more going on here—something he didn’t want her involved in.

“Yeah, sure, Hopper,” she muttered, turning on her heel and heading toward her room, but not before throwing one last glance at the papers. Whatever Hopper was mixed up in, it wasn’t just a routine case.

And she wasn’t about to let him keep her in the dark.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

The sudden blare of the telephone cut through the quiet stillness of the trailer, jarring Y/N from her final moments of sleep. She stirred, blinking groggily as the early morning light fell through the thin curtains in her room.

The air was cool, and the distant sound of birds chirping filtered in from outside. With a groan, she pushed herself up, tossing the covers aside and shuffling outside to the living room as the ringing persisted, each note pulling her further into consciousness.

"Hello?" She muttered as she picked up the phone, her voice hoarse with sleep as she glanced at the clock on the wall—noting it was only 8:07 AM. She frowned, wondering who would be calling this early.

“Get ready and meet me at my house,” came Nancy’s voice on the other end, laced with urgency.

Y/N groaned, dragging a hand over her face as she tried to focus. "What? Why?"

"Just hurry up! I’ll see you soon!" Nancy chimed before the line went dead, leaving Y/N staring at the receiver in disbelief. She huffed, hanging up the phone, muttering under her breath as she shuffled toward her room to get ready.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬

Y/N biked through the quiet streets, the crisp fall breeze brushing past her cheeks as the soft hum of her tires on the pavement filled the air. She turned onto Maple Street, approaching the Wheeler's house. As she propped her bike against the garage and approached the front door, she could already smell breakfast cooking.

The door creaked as she stepped inside, and Y/N was met with Mrs. Wheeler peeking over from the kitchen with a pan in hand, while Mr. Wheeler sat at the kitchen table, immersed in a newspaper. Mrs. Wheeler, being the kind woman she is, warmly greeted the girl, “Hey Y/N, it’s nice to see you! Breakfast is almost done if you’d like some.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler, that would be nice.” Y/N sent a polite smile, watching Mr. Wheeler aggressively flip his newspaper.

“You might as well invite the entire neighborhood over for breakfast,” He muttered, earning a swat on the shoulder from Karen as she passed him, placing cooked eggs on a big plate.

“Please, don’t mind him, you’re welcome anytime.” Mrs. Wheeler shook her head, glancing at Y/N as she sent a small smile, taking her jacket off in the living room.

“Y/N, dear, would you mind grabbing the boys for breakfast? They’re in the basement on your left,” The woman kindly asked as she organized the breakfast plates.

“Of course, Mrs. Wheeler.” Y/N nodded, setting her jacket on the couch, then making her way towards the basement.

As she approached, she could hear hushed voices from below, along with quick shuffling footsteps. She descended the staircase, only to be met with the group of boys standing awkwardly in front of a fort, almost as if expecting her arrival.

Dustin was the first to speak, a guilty grin covering his face. “Hey, Y/N, what are you doing here?”

Before Y/N could speak, a noise came from behind the fort, but Lucas cleared his throat with an awkward smile, playing it off. “Sorry, something got stuck in my throat,” He said, earning a hard slap on the back from Mike before Lucas shoved him.

“Just helping you, man.” Mike protested, throwing his hands up defensively.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, amused by their strange behavior, but ultimately not too concerned. “Mrs. Wheeler says breakfast is ready, she wants you guys upstairs.”

“Oh, uh, yeah! We’ll be right up,” Dustin replied quickly, glancing nervously between Mike and Lucas.

Y/N lingered for a moment, watching the boys fidget. “Alright then,” she finally said with a shrug. “But don’t take too long, or the food will get cold.”

“Got it, Y/N!” Dustin added, nodding swiftly with a convincing smile.

She dispersed up the basement stairs, entering the living room. “I told the boys to come up. I’ll be right back, going to check on Nancy,” Y/N announced to Mrs. Wheeler as she approached upstairs, and she replied with a, “Thank you, Y/N!”

As Y/N climbed the steps, she heard a soft, almost panicked shuffling coming from behind Nancy’s door. Faint whispers followed, too muffled to make out but enough to raise an eyebrow. Y/N approached Nancy’s door, knocking on it softly.

"It’s me," Y/N announced, and the door flew open in an instant. Nancy stood there, her hair messy, and behind her, Jonathan was crawling out from beneath her bed, his face flushed with embarrassment.

"Hi, Jonathan." Y/N greeted him casually through a smug smirk that tugged at her lips. "You guys are terrible at being secretive."

Jonathan stood up quickly, brushing off his jeans with a sheepish grin. "Hey," he muttered, glancing between the two girls.

"Everything okay?" Y/N asked, her gaze shifting to Nancy. “Yeah, but just so you know, it’s not what it looks like,” Nancy spoke as she shut the door behind Y/N, earning a soft chuckle.

“Don’t worry, that’s not what I thought. After last night, I could’ve used some company too.” Y/N shrugged, walking over to the edge of Nancy’s bed to take a seat.

"Well,” Nancy cleared her throat, her expression determined. “We have a plan—we’re going to need weapons and traps, lots of them.”

𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞

Inside the hunting store, guns were hanging upon the walls, with mannequins styling the store's apparel—there was any kind of weapon or contraction you could need lying about. Nancy, Jonathan, and Y/N set their items down at the checkout counter, the cashier’s expression growing with curiosity, mostly utter disbelief. They had bear traps, gasoline, lighter fluid, nails—you name it.

“And uh, four boxes of .38s.” Jonathan set his hands on the counter as Nancy continued setting things down, while Y/N helped to unload their shopping basket. Older music from the 70s blared over the speakers above the group, watching as the cashier grabbed the bullet cases from the shelf and set them down on the counter.

“What are you kids doing with all of this?” The cashier finally admitted his curiosity. Jonathan fidgeted his fingers nervously, and the group glanced at each other, not quite finding the right words.

“Uh—” Jonathan began, before stopping himself, clenching his jaw.

“Monster hunting,” Nancy spoke up, shrugging as she raised her eyebrows sarcastically, causing the cashier to scoff—shaking his head in disbelief as he checked them out.

“Monster hunting?” Y/N mocked Nancy’s words as they returned to Jonathan’s Ford outside the hunting store. The sky was overcast and the streets were not so busy, mostly walked by people running errands with few cars passing by.

“Not like he would believe us either way,” Nancy shrugged as they approached the boy’s vehicle, opening the trunk. Jonathan chuckled as the group unloaded the hunting items in the trunk until Y/N paused, squinting her eyes to read the bright red title that caught her eye at the local movie theatre, The Hawk.

“You know, last week… I was shopping for a new top I thought Steve Harrington might like, to impress him.” Nancy recalled as she and Jonathan continued unloading the supplies, but Y/N let out a small gasp, finally realizing what the big, ugly red letters read at the theatre.

“All The Right Moves: Starring Nancy The Slut Wheeler.”

“Uh, Nancy…” Y/N’s heart dropped to her stomach, staring at the spray-painted letters in complete disbelief.

It was cruel.

“It took me and Barb all weekend, it seemed like life or death, you know? And, now…” Nancy trailed off, paying no mind to Y/N as Jonathan finished her sentence.

“You’re shopping for bear traps with Y/N and Jonathan Byers.” Jonathan grinned sheepishly, gazing at Nancy before he shut the trunk.

“Yeah…” Nancy gave a soft smile, turning to glance at Jonathan.

“Guys,” Y/N’s eyes darted between Nancy and Jonathan, but they didn’t even spare a look at her.

“What’s the weirdest part? Me, or the bear trap?” Jonathan nudged Nancy’s shoulder with his elbow playfully, earning a hearty chuckle.

“You. Most definitely you—”

“If you idiots would stop flirting with each other, you could listen to what I’m saying!” Y/N was now yelling, attempting to get their attention, and she got it—before it was taken away by a car honking behind them on the street.

“Hey, Nance! We can’t wait to see your movie,” A boy called out with a nasty grin, his arm slinging out of the rolled-down window as the car drove by.

“What the hell was that?” Jonathan murmured, glancing between Nancy and Y/N.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but…” Y/N began, unsure of how to even tell Nancy about the words written on the theatre for the entire town to see. Before Y/N could continue, Nancy’s gaze shifted behind her, her eyes widening in shock as her jaw dropped.

“What?” Jonathan scoffed, watching as Nancy hurried off, picking up her feet to jog across the street. “Where is she going?” The boy shook his head as Y/N followed behind him, chasing Nancy down the road.

They now stood before the Hawk, with the bold, awful, ugly red letters on display. Y/N looked between the sign and Nancy, shaking her head. “Who in their right mind would even do this? You haven’t been with anyone Nance, have you?” Y/N questioned, watching her friend look at the sign in disbelief.

Nancy was in a daze, feeling as if everyone who passed her had their eyes glued onto her, which… most of them did, whispering under their breath to one another. It was a small town, and the Wheelers were a known family, so Nancy’s name was something anyone would recognize.

The sound of faint chuckling and spray paint cans rattling echoed in Y/N’s ears, and she turned to see a group of teens vandalizing the side of The Hawk in the alleyway across the street. Nancy also seemed to catch onto it, taking quick strides toward the alleyway.

Y/N caught up with her, with Jonathan a distance behind, turning into the alleyway to find the one and only—Steve Harrington, and his group of douchebag friends, with the same red spray paint that was on The Hawk.

Nancy’s fists clenched at her sides, her lips pressed into a thin line, before taking angry steps towards the group. Although Y/N didn’t know the entire story, she could recognize the look on her face—Nancy was angry, but most of all, hurt.

“Aw, hey there, princess!” Carol’s mocking tone pierced through Y/N’s ears. “Didn’t think the two of you would show up!” She added with a sneer, her eyes flicking between the girls.

Y/N was close behind Nancy, watching her march toward Steve. He didn’t look too happy either—his usual smug grin was replaced with something darker, more defensive. Tommy lazily grinned, holding a can of spray paint. "Uh oh, looks like someone's pissed," he droned, nudging Steve.

Before anyone could react, Nancy’s hand flew through the air, smacking Steve across the face with a resounding slap, the sound echoing through the alleyway. Everyone gasped.

“What is wrong with you?” Nancy’s voice trembled, the hurt breaking through her anger.

“What’s wrong with me?” Steve scoffed, holding his cheek.

“What’s wrong with you, Nancy? I was worried about you.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, but beneath it, there was something raw. “Can you believe it? I was actually worried about you.”

“What are you talking about?” Nancy threw her hands out, searching Steve’s face for answers.

“I wouldn’t lie if I were you, you don’t want to be the lying slut now, do you?” Carol stepped toward Nancy with an infuriating grin. Y/N reacted instinctively, stepping between the two and shoving Carol’s shoulder.

“I would back off if I were you,” Y/N spat with a sharp glare, watching Carol’s jaw drop with disbelief, before Tommy snickered, looking behind them and breaking the tension.

“Oh-ho, speak of the devil!” Tommy smirked wickedly, raising his spray can as he watched Jonathan approach the group.

Nancy looked between Steve and Jonathan, her face softening just slightly. "He came by last night. Did you… try to sneak in or something?”

Carol couldn’t resist chiming in again, her voice grating, earning another glare from Y/N. “Ding, ding, ding! Does she win a prize?”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t like that.” Nancy stepped toward Steve, firmly stating her case.

“What, did he come over to study?” Steve clicked, raising his brows.

“Or, for a pervy photo session?” Tommy chuckled, slinging his arm around Carol with a smug grin.

“Look, we were just—” Nancy tried to explain, but she hesitated, and Steve noticed it.

“You were just what? Finish that sentence.” He mocked, stepping closer to Nancy, his tone cold. “Finish the sentence.”

Nancy faltered, avoiding his gaze, her mouth hanging open as she searched for the right words. Steve scoffed, taking a step forward. “You wanted to play girlfriend and boyfriend, but the second this freak shows up,” he gestured toward Jonathan, “you change your mind.”

Nancy’s expression crumpled, her eyes flicking to Steve’s in a silent plea. “Because you—you…” Nancy stammered.

“Because I, what?” Steve snapped.

Nancy finally found her voice, “Because the second things started getting serious, you avoided me. You flirted with other girls, you—” she paused, her voice cracking slightly. “You pushed me away.”

Steve shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Go to hell, Nancy.” The boy coldly looked down at the girl, then shifted his hardened gaze to Y/N standing beside her. “And you, Smith, find some better friends. You’re better than a perv and a cheater.”

Y/N’s jaw clenched, but she kept her voice steady. “You know what’s funny?” She called after him as he began to walk away, her voice sharp. Steve stopped in his tracks, turning to face her, waiting for her to speak.

“I didn’t even know you and Nancy were dating. Hell, I never saw you act like it.”

Steve locked eyes with Y/N, waiting for the girl to get to her point. “I also know cheating applies to flirting with other girls while you’re in a relationship, Harrington. Get some fucking self-respect.”

“Look, Y/N, it was never official!” Steve threw his hands out, in a weak attempt at defending himself.

“Then, Nancy’s not a cheater! You don’t even know the whole story!” Y/N shot back, throwing her own hands out.

Steve stepped closer, his voice low with anger. “You defending her?"

“Yeah, maybe this is a good time to learn how relationships work. You can’t treat people like pawns, Steve. Maybe by some miracle, this will teach you to act like you're actually in a relationship, and that’s if you could even stick to one girl—” Y/N began to ramble in a rage, before she felt herself get pulled back, locking eyes with Jonathan.

“Let’s just go,” he muttered, trying to diffuse the tension.

Steve stepped toward Jonathan, his eyes narrowing at his hand locked around Y/N’s arm. “You know what, perv? I’m impressed, I always took you for a queer but I guess you’re just a little screw-up like your father,” Steve’s words began to shoot daggers as he shoved Jonathan, and Y/N was now grabbing his arm instead, guiding him away.

“Oh yeah, that house is full of screw-ups. You know, I guess you shouldn’t really be surprised, there’s a whole bunch of screw-ups in the Byers family,” Steve continued, and at this point, Y/N was dragging Jonathan’s arm while Nancy yelled at Harrington to stop.

“I mean, your mom! I’m not even surprised what happened to your brother,” The brown-haired boy wouldn’t stop, and Jonathan had entirely halted in his tracks as Y/N tugged on his arm, begging him to keep walking.

“Please, Jonathan! It’s not worth it!” Y/N whispered urgently, watching Jonathan’s gaze shift to the ground.

She felt the shift in his demeanor, his usual kind and quiet presence turning into something else. Y/N noticed the way he clenched his jaw, the way he held his fists together—his fingernails digging into his palms. He was starting to see red, and hell, Y/N couldn’t blame him.

“I’m sorry I have to break it to you, but the Byers, that family is a disgrace to the entire—”

Thwack!

Y/N gasped, her hand flying over her mouth as Jonathan’s fist collided with Steve’s cheekbone. The sound—a dull, sickening thud—echoed through the alley, sending Steve flying toward the vandalized brick wall. Steve staggered for a moment, holding his cheek as he looked back at Jonathan, absolutely infuriated.

Nancy rushed over to Jonathan, her eyes wide with fear, placing her hand on his back. “Jonathan, let’s go—”

Steve suddenly launched himself at Jonathan, tackling him to the ground with a sudden burst of anger. Both boys hit the pavement hard, and the sound of their bodies colliding sounded through the narrow alley. Nancy screamed, stumbling back as Y/N stood frozen, her heart pounding in her ears. They wrestled on the concrete, limbs flailing as they each tried to gain the upper hand.

“Get him, Harrington!” Tommy’s voice rang out, egging his friend on as if the fight was some kind of sick game.

Steve had managed to stand, watching as Jonathan prepared to throw another swing. This time, he managed to dodge it, catching Jonathan off guard—landing a hard punch on his cheek with a thud. Jonathan was quick to come back from it, fueled by a rage that had sat for too long, sending a haymaker at Steve—knocking him to the ground, the sound of flesh hitting against each other making Y/N sick to her stomach.

And then it became brutal.

Jonathan pinned Steve down and his fists began to fly, one after another, landing punch after punch into Harrington’s face. The sound of knuckles smashing into skin and bone filled the air, each hit wetter and more vicious than the last. Steve’s nose exploded in a spray of blood, staining the pavement beneath them. His hands were up in a weak attempt to block the blows, but Jonathan wasn’t stopping.

His rage was blinding, his fists relentless as he took out everything on the boy beneath him. At this point—Steve lost, and Jonathan had gone too far. The sudden sound of police sirens alarmed the group, turning around to see a cop car enter the alleyway. Jonathan was relentless, the sirens not snapping him out of his frenzy.

“Jonathan, stop!” Y/N’s voice cracked with desperation, but her words fell on deaf ears. She looked to Nancy, who was equally frozen, her face pale as she watched the scene unfold in horror.

“Come on, man, he’s had enough, let’s go!” Tommy, now panicking, grabbed at Steve, trying to pull him away from the relentless beating on the ground. But Jonathan shoved him aside like he was nothing, focused solely on pounding Steve into the pavement.

An officer ran up behind Jonathan, attempting to grab him as well, but in his fury, he elbowed him in the nose—sending him backward and stunning him. But the other officer managed to twist Jonathan’s arms behind his back, forcing him to the ground.

Steve, barely conscious, was pulled to his feet by Tommy, his face swollen and bloody, but he still managed to stumble away with his friends, fleeing into the alleyway. Jonathan was now detained, and Harrington managed to escape with his friends.

Jonathan, panting heavily, was slammed against the police car, cuffs snapping around his wrists. His chest rose and fell with exhaustion, but his eyes still burned with anger as he glared at the spot where Steve had disappeared.

Nancy and Y/N stood frozen, their eyes locking in utter disbelief.

"Of course," Y/N muttered under her breath, throwing her hands in the air. "Of course, Steve Harrington gets away with this."

𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

“Hey uh, chief, you there?” One of the officers radioed in, nervously adjusting his glasses while running a hand through his brunette hair. His eyes darted around, waiting for the familiar gruff voice to respond.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Hopper’s voice came through, his tone already impatient.

“A fight broke out here, and—” The officer began, attempting to relay the situation, only to be cut off by Hopper.

“Cal, I don’t have time for this.” The chief was quick to reply, annoyance now clear in his tone.

“It’s Jonathan Byers,” Cal quickly added, bracing for the reaction. “Y/N Smith and Nancy Wheeler are with him. You haven’t seen Joyce, have you?”

Y/N shifted uncomfortably in the police station, taking in the cluttered workspaces, with file cabinets lining the walls and navy curtains half-drawn over the windows. Across the way was a hall leading to Hopper’s office. She stood by the fridge behind reception in the main office, watching quietly as the police station’s receptionist, ever so thoughtful, retrieved ice for Jonathan’s bruised face.

“Do you think we’ll be out of here soon?” Y/N questioned, glancing at her friends before looking at the older woman through her glasses. Her skin was aged, with short dark brown hair, and hints of gray styled neatly.

“You and your friend, yes, him—no. He assaulted a police officer.” She stated, not missing a beat, her words dry and matter-of-fact as Y/N read the name badge on her shirt, “Flo”.

“You’re living with Hopper now, right?” Flo questioned, breaking Y/N out of thought, wrapping the ice that was in a plastic bag into cloth.

“Uh—yes, for now.” Y/N shifted uncomfortably, being reminded of her living situation amid everything.

Flo eyed her for a moment before shrugging. “I think you remind him a lot of his daughter,” She bluntly stated, looking the girl up and down.

Y/N blinked, trying to recall a time Hopper ever mentioned having kids. “He has a daughter?”

“Had,” Flo corrected her, her expression softening slightly as she handed Y/N the ice pack, hesitating before speaking again.

“She passed away from terminal cancer a few years ago—he doesn’t like to talk about her… but I think ever since you’ve come into his life, he’s turned it around for the better. You know, to take care of you.” The woman explained as Y/N took the ice pack from her, blinking, unsure of what to say—a bit taken back.

“He's never told me that…” The girl’s voice was soft, trailing off.

Flo shrugged again, her lips curving in a wry smile. “Doesn’t surprise me. That man’s a tough nut to crack, but he cares.” With the ice pack in hand, Y/N walked back to Jonathan and Nancy. She handed it over to Nancy, who gently pressed it against Jonathan’s bruised cheek since his hands were bound in cuffs. “Thanks,” The boy offered a soft smile, his lips pressed into a curved line, until the trio heard a car outside come to a screeching halt, vehicle doors slamming.

“I think that’s Hopper.” Y/N winced through her teeth, preparing herself.

The front door burst open, and the sound of heavy rushed footsteps flew past reception into the main office, being met with Hopper and Jonathan’s mom, Joyce. The chief’s eyes locked with Y/N’s as he entered the room with big strides, giving the girl a quick, disapproving look.

“Jonathan—Jesus, what happened? Why is he wearing handcuffs?”Joyce’s voice cracked with concern as she rushed toward her son in his seat.

“Because your boy assaulted a police officer, that’s why,” the brunette officer began, arms crossed over his chest with slight sass in his tone, but Joyce was quick to respond.

“Take them off.” She sternly spoke, only to be met with silence, neither of the officers meeting her gaze. “Take them off!” She shouted through the station, firmly repeating herself.

“I am afraid I cannot do that—” The officer sighed, shaking his head, until Hopper interrupted him.

“You heard her. Take them off.” He commanded, gesturing toward Jonathan, while the third officer intervened.

“Chief, I understand everyone’s emotional here but… there’s something you need to see.” He gestured for him to follow, and Hopper glanced at Joyce, her expression growing with concern.

The officers marched back inside, their heavy footsteps reverberating through the small station, throwing the hunting supplies the group had just bought before the incident on the desk the kids were sitting at. Nancy’s face tightened in discomfort, her eyes darting to Y/N, whose mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. Jonathan’s expression was grim, his fists clenched in his cuffs as he avoided eye contact with anyone.

“What... what is all of this?” Joyce asked, her voice rising in confusion as she glanced through the pile of tools, her fingers brushing over the cold steel of the traps. Her expression twisted with concern, eyes wide with disbelief as she glanced between her son and the girls.

Hopper stood beside Joyce, his posture tense, arms crossed over his chest. “Why don’t you ask your son?” He shot back, his gaze laser-focused on Jonathan. “We found all this in his car.” “Why were you searching through my car?” Jonathan shot a defensive glare, challenging Hopper.

Hopper’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, the air between them growing heavier. “Is that really the question you should be asking right now, Byers?”

The room fell silent, tension suffocating the atmosphere. Hopper let his words sink in before his gaze swept over the three teenagers. “I want all of you in my office. Now.”

Jonathan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, finally meeting Hopper’s eyes. “You won’t believe me,” he muttered, his voice barely audible, the weight of the truth pressing on his chest.

Hopper’s expression remained unreadable, his eyes hard. “Why don’t you give me a shot,” he replied coldly, the challenge clear in his tone, daring him to spill whatever impossible story that was brewing.

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞

“You said blood draws this thing?” Hopper questioned, his tone thick with skepticism as he chewed on a toothpick, his eyes scanning the grainy photograph of the monster that Jonathan, Nancy, and Y/N had developed in the photo lab.

“We don’t know, but… that’s what we think.” Jonathan glanced up at Hopper with uncertainty, while Joyce began shaking her head, stress written all over her face.

“I want to talk to you,” Joyce cut in, her voice firm. She glanced at her son, then the door. “Alone.”

Jonathan exchanged a look with Y/N and Nancy before following his mother out of Hopper’s office, leaving the two girls behind with the chief. Hopper sighed, running a hand over his face before looking at Nancy.

“Nancy, I need to talk to Y/N as well.”

She nodded, giving Y/N a small, reassuring smile as she headed out the door, closing it softly behind her. Hopper waited until the door clicked shut before turning his full attention to Y/N. His posture was tense, one hand on his hip as he pointed at the photograph of the monster still on the desk. “This,” he began, his voice rising slightly, “This is why I didn’t want you going out and playing detective.” His disappointment was clear, his gaze locking onto Y/N, waiting for her to explain.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, hesitating. “I–I didn’t think you’d believe me if I told you. That’s why I wanted to look by myself.” The girl began to explain, folding her arms as Hopper listened to her.

“The… the nightmares I’ve been having, I’ve drawn them,” she spoke after a pause, going to reach into her shoulder bag next to her, pulling out her sketchbook and flipping through the pages.

Hopper stepped toward her, examining the drawings she’d made. “This is the portal we saw, and this is what that place looked like based on what Nancy described when she was in there, with that thing,” Y/N explained, her voice shaking slightly as she watched Hopper look at the details.

“These are the nightmares you’ve been drawing…” The man connected the dots, his words trailing off. “I remember seeing one of these when we were having breakfast. How do you see this stuff, kid?” The chief was quick to question, rubbing his mustache in thought.

Y/N swallowed, feeling the weight of the question. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But the more everything happens, the worse they get. I know it’s crazy, but it's like... I’m connected to it, seeing pieces of what’s—” Y/N explained, before getting cut off by an erratic voice outside.

“Hold that thought, I’ll be right back kiddo,” Hopper sighed, placing a reassuring but heavy hand on Y/N’s shoulder, and quickly exiting the office. His footsteps echoed down the hallway, leaving Y/N alone in the dimly lit room. She strained to listen to the rising voices beyond the door, her eyes narrowing.

Through the muffled wall, Hopper’s deep voice sounded, “What the hell is going on out here?” Other voices quickly followed, more frantic and desperate.

“A psychotic child broke my son’s arm!” A woman’s voice snapped, her words filled with urgency. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She leaned forward in her chair, the anxiety bubbling up inside her as she tried to piece together what was unfolding.

“I don’t have time for this. Please, just take a statement,” Hopper sighed, his voice growing closer as he began to retreat to his office. Y/N’s head shot up, her ears now fully focused when she heard one of the officers press the boy for details.

“Can you describe what she looked like?” The officer questioned, and Y/N heard Hopper’s footsteps grow closer to his office.

“Her head was shaved with a bloody nose, and she didn’t even look like a girl. And…” The boy paused, his voice becoming quieter, as if afraid to continue, while Hopper’s footsteps halted. “She can… do things. Like—make you fly, with her mind!”

Y/N’s eyes widened. A bloody nose—superpowers. Just like the girl that was described in the articles Hopper had been looking into.

“Was she alone?” Hopper pressed, urgency now clear in his tone, while another officer told him how crazy this all sounded.

“No,” the boy replied, barely audible now. “She’s always hanging around those losers—Mike, Dustin, and Lucas.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Those kids are involved?

She thought back to that morning when she went to grab them for breakfast at the Wheelers, but they were acting suspicious… as if hiding something. A lightbulb went off in Y/N’s head. This girl—whoever she was—was with them.

Those boys are absolutely terrible at keeping a secret.

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reputationmunson · 2 years ago

Note

Not sure if you're taking requests or not, but if you are can you plz write something about just being with steve, Robin, Nancy, and your boyfriend eddie and eddie just keeps doing things that arent conventionality sexy, but it turns you on none the less and you cant help but jump him right then and there and you keep telling him how sexy he is and the gang tell you guys to get a room and you guys do 👀

honestly, everything eddie does turns me on so this was definitely easy to write. thank you for the request i hope you like it! :)

cw: Smut (18+), afab reader, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, cream pie, slight dom!eddie, drug use, use of y/n (like once or twice), some good ol’ light spanking, reader is insanely feral for eddie

Your boyfriend is driving you absolutely crazy.

Usually it wouldn’t be an issue, but you’re positive your friends wouldn’t approve of you jumping his bones in the middle of Steve’s basement.

Ever since the events of the upside down, you and your friends made an agreement to get together at least once a week and do something fun. Whether it was going to the movies, or bowling, or going out to eat, it didn’t matter because you were all safe and together.

While you loved this new-found tradition, tonight was the most inconvenient night to have a get together. Every little thing Eddie did was turning you on and he was unaware of the effect he was having on you.

You and Eddie had quite literally started your day with a bang before he headed off to his new job down at the garage. While he left you satisfied, he also left you wanting more and with the last minute idea to have a night in at the Harrington household, you didn’t even have time for a quickie.

The strange thing is, he isn’t even doing anything that would be considered sexual which makes it worse. He could give you a wet willy and you’d probably cum on the spot.

Earlier when he opened his beer bottle with his teeth, you literally whimpered instead of giving him a speech on dental safety. Thankfully, it wasn’t loud enough for anyone to hear because your friends would definitely make fun of you.

Currently he's sitting on the couch rolling a joint while you sit across from him on the floor.No one else is even paying attention, too caught up in conversation, but you’re watching him like a damn hawk. God, his hands are so fucking sexy.

Watching his fingers work their magic has you in a trance. You can’t help but think of what they feel like when they’re in- “You alright, babe?” Eddie asks before you can finish your thought. “Oh, yeah. I’m great. Just a little tired”

“Lick this for me?” He asks and your eyes widen. Eddie chuckles. “The paper, ya perv.

“Oh, right” Everytime Eddie rolled a joint, you licked the paper for him. You weren’t sure why, but it was a cute thing the two of you always did.

You lean forward and licked the paper while making eye contact. It took everything in you not to wrap your lips around his thumb and suck. Once you’re done, you sit back down on the floor and he sets the joint on the coffee table. “Thanks, baby. I’m gonna go get you a glass of water for when we smoke” Fuck, he’s so considerate you could just suck the soul right out of his body.

Once Eddie’s upstairs, you decide that he probably needs help and you’d hate to be a bad girlfriend.

“I’ll be right back” You say to your friends and sprint up the stairs.

When you walk in the kitchen, his back is facing you and he’s unaware you’re in the room. Eddie is rummaging through cabinets and humming a song while bobbing his head. You love seeing him lost in his own world.

Not wanting to keep your hands off of him any longer, you walk over to him and hug him from behind, giving him a squeeze.

“Steve, how many times do I have to tell you I have a girlfriend?” He jokes. You laugh and bury your face into his back and breathe in his scent. You move your hands under his shirt and he covers your hands with his own.

After standing there for a couple of minutes, Eddie turns around to face you and wraps his arms around you. “What’s got you all lovey dovey?” He asks, rubbing your back. “Just missed you” You put your hands behind his neck and play with his hair. “Well we can’t have that” Eddie leans down to kiss you.

The kiss is slow and passionate, but you need more. Your tongue slides across his bottom lip and he opens his mouth. Both of your tongues move together in harmony. His hands slide down to the back of your thighs. You know this means he wants you to jump and wrap your legs around him, so you oblige.

Eddie sets you on the counter and the kiss grows more intense. You feel a sense of relief and your body starts to go limp as you relax. You’re finally getting what you’ve been waiting for all day.

“Munson, y/l, you two better not be fucking in my kitchen.” You hear Steve shout from the top of the basement stairs.

“Guess we should get back down there” Eddie sighs and gives you a peck. You hop off the counter and head down to the basement hand in hand.

“How nice of you nymphomaniacs to finally join us.” Steve comments when you reach the bottom of the stairs. “If you missed me that much, Steve, just be honest” Eddie replies, making everyone giggle. “Yeah, you’d like that. We smokin’ or what?”

Robin, Steve, and Nancy all sit on the couch and you and Eddie share the oversized bean bag chair.

“M’lady, do me the honors of the first hit?” Eddie holds the joint to your lips and you inhale. Smoke fills your lungs and you immediately feel a sense of relaxation once you exhale. Eddie hands you your glass of water so you don’t have a coughing fit.

Moments later, the first joint is gone and you start to grow needier for Eddie’s touch. Weed always makes you horny, so smoking might not have been the best idea.

“Robs, pass me that blanket please. It’s freezing down here” It’s not really that cold but you can’t exactly palm Eddie through his pants without something to cover you. She throws it at you and Eddie places the blanket over both of you.

He throws his arm around you, pulling you closer and you rest your head on his chest. “Maybe we should put a movie on. Something scary?” You suggest. You and Eddie always get riled up during horror movies.

Once the movie starts and everyone’s eyes are glued to the screen, you start to have a little fun.

His shirt has slightly ridden up, so you let the hand that’s resting on his chest drift down to the exposed skin on his side. You slowly trace circles on his skin and he lets out a content sigh.

Once you think he believes this was an innocent gesture, you move your finger to rest atop his waistband and play with the fabric.

He tenses up, but quickly relaxes when he sees everyone else is paying attention to the movie.

Feeling bold, you start to plant tiny kisses on his neck without moving too much to avoid suspicion. Eddie’s hand moves down to rest on your ass occasionally giving it a squeeze.

Without hurry, you move your hand to rest atop his crotch. Eddie gives your ass a rough squeeze. While he means this as a warning, you take it as encouragement to keep going.

Your hand starts to rub him through his jeans, making him lay his head back and his eyes flutter close. “You’re so sexy. Been thinking about you all day” You whisper in his ear. With his neck more exposed, you go back to kissing it.

He tilts his head back up and he gently grabs your wrist, suddenly remembering you two aren’t the only ones here. “Baby, not here. Promise I’ll make it worth your while at home” It’s a nice promise, but not nice enough to stop you from palming at his crotch again. “You really want me to stop? Tell me again and I will.” You whisper. As badly as you want him, you really will stop if he’s uncomfortable.

Luckily for you, he doesn’t tell you to stop again. He lets go of your wrist and tries to act as casual as possible.

Without causing too much commotion, you undo his pants and slide your hand down to touch his cock. You look up at him and his lips look just so irresistible. You move so you can kiss him and he cups the back of your head.

The movie reaches a quiet part and your friends can hear the noises of you making out. “Munson, please tell me your dick isn’t out” Steve whines. Both of your heads immediately shoot up and look over to see the disgusted looks on your friends faces. “I would love to be able to tell you that, Steven, but then I’d be lying.” Eddie responds, face as red as a beet. You hear a chorus of ‘ews’ and ‘thats gross’

“Steve practically lives in a mansion so I am begging the both of you to please get a room and when you come back lets all keep our genitals in our pants” Robin pleads. You give each other a look and waste no time getting up and running towards the stairs.

“Any room but mine or my parents, got it?” Steve shouts and the girls laugh uncontrollably.

After what feels like ages, you finally find a spare bedroom. Your clothes are already torn off and Eddie pushes you on the bed.

“This what you wanted?” Eddie asks, pushing his jeans and boxers down far enough to get his dick out. “Beg for it” Eddie taps his cock on your clit, waiting to hear you beg.

“Please give me your cock. I wanna make you feel good. please, baby I’ll be so good”

You’re already dripping wet and he slides in with ease, making you simultaneously moan.

His thrusts are fast and rough. He starts to rub your clit faster and faster, showing your pussy no mercy.

“Fuck, Eddie. You feel so good inside me” You’re happy your friends are in the basement because the two of you aren’t even trying to be quiet.

“Your pussy feels so good around my cock” He’s breathing hard “Can’t wait to fill you up with my cum.”

“Can I ride you?” You ask and he smirks. He pulls out and lays on the bed.

You slowly sink on his cock and you swear it gets better and better each time. You steady yourself by placing your hands on his shoulder and start to bounce.

“Faster. Show me how bad you want me to cum in you” He smacks your ass causing you to let out a loud moan. You obey his orders and ride him faster. Your tits bouncing in his face start to drive him over the edge.

He grabs both of your tits and starts massaging your nipples. “Please tell me your close” He whines. “I’m close. So fucking close” You start to rub your clit, but Eddie smacks your hand so he can do it for you.

“Gonna cum. Cum with me right fucking now” He orders. You gush around his cock and his cum fills you up, making a satisfied smile appear on your face.

You're both panting and trying to catch your breath. You bury yourself in the crook of his neck and he soothes you by rubbing your back. He doesn’t pull out of you yet, knowing how much you both love feeling as close as possible.

“I love you” He says, voice strained

“I love you too” You kiss his neck.

Needless to say, you never made it back downstairs that night.

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson request #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson x you

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munsonify · 1 year ago

Text

nsfw alphabet

pairing. dom!boyfriend!steve harrington x sub!afab!reader

content warnings. smut 18+ mdni, creampies, oral (male and female receiving), head pushing, finger sucking, mentions of rough/degrading sex, quickies, butt plugs, teasing choking, spanking, bondage, choking, spanking, size kink, and squirting, masturbation, overstimulation, description of his cock and pubic hair, perv!steve.

word count. 1467

a - aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

— steve may not always know what to do, but one thing about him, is that he is very loving. so, even if you have to guide him a little the first time after sex, the thought is still there! steve is very cuddly after sex, and will always want to be next to you/touching you! when he’s got you all messy, he’s quick to cleaning you up or showering with you. he’ll whisper a few “i love you”’s before passing out with you.

b - body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

— steve loves his hair, we know this, but his shoulders and back are absolutely his favorite body part of his. he’s very strong, and it shows mostly there, so he loves how they look. anytime you grip his shoulders or scratch down his back desperately while having sex, he swears he does a little inside (/pos).

— steve loves your thighs. he loves gripping them while he fuck you, and he loves the way his head slots between them while he eats you out. hes sucked more hickeys on your thighs than he’s sucked anywhere else on you.

c - cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

— at the beginning of the relationship, steve used exclusively condoms while you two had sex. however, he quickly discovers how much he loves coming inside of you. he obsessed with watching as his cum spills slowly out of your pussy and how it feels filling you up like that.

d- dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

— he absolutely has an oral fixation. if he doesn’t have something to do with his mouth he’d probably pass away, and maybe that’s why he loves eating your pussy so much! but, that eventually translates into wanting to suck on your fingers.

e - experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

— it’s canon steve has slept around, so he absolutely has loads of experienced (luckily for you). he knows exactly what he’s doing, it’s just a matter of figuring out what works best with your body. when he finally figures it out, you’re absolutely gone for!

f - favorite position (this goes without saying)

— as freaky as i think steve can be, he absolutely loves missionary. he mostly just likes being able to see your face, which missionary gives in an extremely intimate way that he loves. the way he’s able to press so close to you while he’s inside of you, getting the perfect view of your pretty face, is what he loves during sex.

g - goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc…)

— steve’s definitely more serious than he is goofy during sex. he takes pleasing you very seriously, and he wants to make sure he gives you the best experience possible. though, with that being said, he has no problem cracking a joke or two while he’s stretching you open.

h - hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc…)

— we’ve seen just about every inch of this man in the best way possible. he definitely doesn’t have a clean shave, though he does trim his pubes when they get too long for his liking. they’re still messy and curly and dark and ahhh

i - intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

— steve can go from extremely romantic and intimate, and very degrading and rough so quick. there’s always love every time you two have sex, however, the romantic aspect of it may not always be in your face and evident!

j - jack off (masturbation headcanon)

— this man still jacks off every once in a while, especially when you’re gone and he’s thinking about you. he’ll moan out your name while fisting his cock, thinking about your warm mouth around him. usually, though, if he wants to get off he’ll come to you.

k - kink (one or more of their kinks)

— bondage, overstimulation, choking, spanking, size kink, squirting (if you guys want me to elaborate on any of these i absolutely will).

l - location (favorite places to do the do)

— steve loves having sex either in bed or in the back of his car. he usually prefers having sex in bed, because it gives him more room to move, however there’s nothing better than you sloppily riding him in the back of his bmw with the windows fogged up. although, the sound of his bed squeaking while he fucks you is like music to his ears.

m - motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

— god this man is such a slut. when you do that thing where you grab onto his arm while you’re walking together, he’s over for. shoulder rubs? a goner. how sweet you are to steve can also get him going a lot of the time.

n - no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

— he wouldn’t want to bruise you anywhere but your ass, and even then, i don’t think he’s too into it. steve loves spanking you and choking you, he definitely has a pain kink, but i don’t think he’d want to leave any marks that aren’t hickeys or scratches. he doesn’t wanna cause any permanent/excessive harm

o - oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc…)

— oh steve is amazing at eating pussy. he absolutely eats you out like it’s his last meal on earth. yet, despite how much he loves giving you oral, he loves receiving it. the way you look taking his cock down your throat is one of his favorite sights. he’s definitely a head pusher.

p - pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc…)

— it honestly dependent on his mood. this man fucks good and never sticks to one pace. sometimes, steve will fuck your deep and slow, making sure you feel every inch of his fat cock sliding in and out of you. other times, he fucks you fast and hard into the mattress into you’re crying for him to let up.

q - quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc…)

— steve loves a good quickie. does he prefer it over proper sex? no, but he will never deny himself of being able to fuck you in the break room of the family video during his breaks. this only really happens when he’s really desperate and you’ve got him worked up real bad. he’ll spill his cum into you and pull your panties back up with no shame <3

r - risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc…)

— he is absolutely up for experimenting and taking risk, but only if he knows it’ll be safe for the both of you. he would never try something new if there was a chance of hurting you. other than that, if it’s safe in fun, he’ll absolutely experiment in bed!

s - stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last, etc…)

— he can go on for a few rounds, i think maybe three at most if you haven’t had sex for a few days. he can last for an hour? two? before his arms become real weak or he becomes too overstimulated to continue (this includes foreplay and multiple rounds, not just penetrative sex).

t - toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

— i think, at most, steve owns a fleshlight, a vibrator, and maybe a butt plug? he bought the vibrator for you specifically, and absolutely uses it to overstimulate you even more when he can’t on his cock. he probably doesn’t use the fleshlight often, only when he’s really desperate.

u - unfair (how much they like to tease)

— steve’s a huge tease throughout the day. he loves getting you all needy and worked up while you’re out and about and unable to fuck. he’ll tease you with his tongue when you’re finally in bed, giving you slow, soft licks until you’re begging for more. other than that, he usually just wants to get down to business. he’s just a desperate whore for you really.

v - volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

— i don’t care what you guys say, this man moans and whimpers. if he feels good, he has no shame in letting you know and letting it all out. he grunts when he’s fucking you rough, moaning when you’re sucking him off or clenching around him real nice, and whimpering when he’s close/coming. it’s not super loud, he usually makes sure it’s right in your ear for you to hear. he loves moaning “oh god honey” right into your ear and it makes you meltttt

w - wild card (a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

— this man is a perv <3 he absolutely stole your panties after you had sex one time and hasn’t given them back. he jerks off with it in his hands, but makes sure he doesn’t get any of his cum on it. he wants to make sure he keeps as much of your scent on it as he can. he also has definitely taken polaroids of you (with consent) that he gets off with. this boy also has no shame staring straight up your skirt when he’s given the chance.

x - xray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

— i’ve been waiting for this question. 8 inches, absolutely a shower. he definitely has a lot of girth to him, which stretches you out so nice. his balls are nice and heavy too. it is so obviously when you turn him on and give him a boner. just know it feels so nice having him in your mouth.

y - yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

— he’s got a relatively high sex drive. it isn’t anything crazy, though he does find himself hot and ready for you a lot. he’ll wake up horny a lot of mornings you’re with him. he just can’t help himself around you! he does, however, know when to keep it in his pants.

z - zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

— after hes given you proper aftercare (and you’ve given him proper aftercare, because that’s still important), he’s really quick to fall asleep. once you both are taken care of properly, he’s out like a light snoring into your ear.

#munsonify #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader smut #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x y/n smut

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