#steve munson supremacy

[justrandomfandomstm]

Ok but can we pretty please have a happy ending Frank and Bill Steddie au?

like demodogs are taking over, they gotta live in the upside down, Vecna wins, idc.

But come on, it would be so cute tho, seeing glimpses of their life, how they fall in love, how they grow, how they survive. Maybe the whole squad in a lil town Murrey made, everyone is just there, living and chiling.

I just want steddie growing old together, im a simple man

[transvampireboyfriend]

i just love the idea of Eddie absentmindedly saying something like "i don't know, man" and Steve sharply turning around and going "what did you just call me?" and Eddie getting all flustered and sputtering, hurrying to correct himself like "baby! i meant baby!! i don't know, baby. Sweetheart." and Steve's just like "yeah, that's what I thought."

[str4ngergirlw0rld]

eddie loves you so much he stares at you lovingly , he tells you you’re the prettiest thing hes seen , that you’re his love of a lifetime , that if he didnt have you he would be so lost & that he would die for you. He keeps his lips on yours while he’s fucking you so he can feel your breathy moans against his lips.

ෆ

steve loves you so much he buys you the prettiest outfits to try on in front of him , he scrubs your hair in the shower and uses your shampoo when you’re away so he can smell like you, he does face masks and hair masks with you cause hes so in love its sickening , steve holds your hand when he fucks you to keep him grounded.

[strawberryspence]

listen i love all the wayne gives steve a shovel talk fics. but i would love a fic where wayne knows eddie likes steve so he makes it his life mission to tease eddie.

steve and eddie aren’t dating. YET.

eddie comes home and steve’s just having dinner with his uncle. wayne personally invited steve. steve doesn’t know what the hell is happening but eddie’s glaring at wayne as wayne gives him another bowl of his famous chili, urging him to eat more.

one sunday, eddie’s super excited because he thought steve’s here to hang out but steve tells him, “oh. me and your uncle are going to throw ball.” and eddie’s like WHAT. what do you mean!? so eddie goes with them against his will (not really) and watches them play with a ball. they explain how the game works, but eddie’s too busy staring at steve to understand.

eddie comes home from a group hang out and wayne’s first question is, “where’s steve? why didn’t you invite him to come? i haven’t seen him since yesterday.” eddie glares at him. what happened to hello? how are you?

when eddie FINALLY asks steve out (which leads to some intense making out), wayne makes them a big grand breakfast. he even brings out the waffle maker and busts out the brandname bacon he had reserved for this event specifically.

when the boys finally emerge from eddie’s room, with flushed faces and gentle smiles.

wayne’s sitting on the couch with the biggest, cheekiest, smuggest smile, “well, well, well. ya finally got your acts together. breakfast, my boys?”

[mixsethaddams]

@steddiemicrofic prompt ‘Cake’, 311 words

Rated G, pre-relationship fluff, no warnings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You need to tell me your favourite flavour,”

Eddie’s head whipped around.

“Wha-?” he asked. “Mine?”

“Yeah,” said Steve, his hands in a sink of soapy water. “Your birthdays up next, right? I need to know what you like,”

Eddie stared at the side of Steve’s head, clutching the dishtowel he was using to dry the clean plates.

They were clearing up after a Party-only (and corroded coffin) get together for Dustin’s birthday.

Steve baked the most amazing strawberry cheesecake, and even made a special dairy-free cupcake for Gareth.

“Gonna bake a cake for me, Harrington?” snorted Eddie.

“Yes,” replied Steve easily. “I do it for everyone’s birthday,”

Eddie focused on the mug in his hands. No one ever baked him a cake before.

When Eddie was a kid, birthday cakes were store bought. They were perfect, don’t get Eddie wrong, but he was always curious about the homemade kind. If Wayne could have, he would have, but Eddie also knew his uncle was working every hour god sent to keep them fed and warm, so he never asked.

Steve was watching him closely, leaning sideways against the sink with a bubble-covered hand on his hip.

“You don’t need to do that,” mumbled Eddie, willing the blush he felt across his ears to go down. “Why would you even want to?”

“Because I care about you,” said Steve quickly, before a flush of red lit up his own ears. He cleared his throat and started washing dishes again. “So just tell me what flavour you like,”

Eddie bit his lip. They were both staring straight down at their own hands, the air thick with a tension matched only by middle school dances.

“I like…” Eddie said meekly. “Lemon. I like lemon, please,”

In his peripheral vision, Eddie saw Steve smile.

“That’s my favourite too,” whispered Steve, nudging Eddie with his elbow.

[paperbackribs]

He was going to ask for a glass of milk

"I've got to have something," Eddie mutters, "I still have Steve in my mouth."

"You're a pig, don't you dare even say it--" Robin groans at Steve as he perks up next to her. She falls back with a dramatic eye roll against the couch while somehow conveying a sense of comraderie to her hive-mind twin, faintly gesturing for him to continue onwards with an indulgent hand movement.

"You mean...?" Steve asks meaningfully, voice earnestly hopeful even while sweet hazel eyes deepen over a dirty smirk.

Eddie quirks an eyebrow over the second lot of homemade cookies halfway to his mouth, clueless until he suddenly, horrifyingly understands how the dynamic duo had interpreted his words.

"You mean..." Eddie echoes incredulously, waiting for the two of them to jump up, do jazz hands and cry out: 'surprise you homo, Steve Harrington is not into you.'

Instead.

Oh my god, Eddie thinks, as they turn and nod at each other, heart beating harder as Steve's face firms in a familiar determined expression, as if Eddie's a goal to be stolen away from the home team.

Swiftly, and in an almost professional manner that has Robin clapping Steve between his shoulders, she swiftly exits their apartment. The slap of the door slamming behind her echoes through the place and Steve steps forward, eyes mischievous in a way that has Eddie's knees near buckling.

"Want to have a real reason to wash out your mouth?"

[midsummer-semantics]

wiggly wednesday 🪱

Okay sure, this sounds fun. I was tagged by @medusapelagia to share a brainworm/headcanon, and I've been trying to get one to develop more fully so here we go.

Today, I'm thinking about...

Steve and Eddie going through some of Eddie's old things as they pack up to move into their own place. Nancy and Robin are there to help even though that mostly consists of Robin picking through already-packed boxes because she keeps getting distracted by all of the things she finds.

Steve finds what looks to be a really old photo album, the sticky pages holding the photos down yellow with age.

"Oh, shit," Eddie says, taking it from him to flip through. "I haven't seen this in ages. I was sure it was lost when all the shit went down."

"Oh my god, please tell me there's embarrassing baby pictures of you in there," Robin grins, trying to snatch it away.

Eddie holds it out of reach, nearly throwing it as Robin tries to tackle him for it.

"Jesus Christ! I'll show you, just keep your insane paws to yourself!" Eddie gripes.

Steve scoots in closer while Robin and Nancy crowd in on his other side, all wanting a closer look.

There's not many pictures in it and most are grainy and out of focus, black and white and hard to distinguish. But there's a few of a baby with an unmistakeable crop of riotous curls.

"Holy shit, you were so cute," Steve coos, running a finger along the 2D cheek of one photo.

"Excuse you, Harrington, but I'm still cute," Eddie snarks, flipping to the next page.

There's one photo of a young man holding baby Eddie, dark curls so similar to his own atop his head. The photo looks to have been torn down the middle, the right side pressed right against baby Eddie's back, like whoever was on the other side was better left out of the picture long term.

"Huh," Steve hums. "It never occurred to me that I had no idea what your dad looks like."

"And for good reason, babe," Eddie says, fighting not to rip the photo out and burn it. "Thankfully all I got from him was his hair and penchant for hot wiring. Everything else I got from my mom I guess."

"You guess?" Nancy asks.

Eddie nods. "She died when I was a baby and the old man kind of went off the rails after. I suspect this—" he runs a finger along the jagged edge of the photo in the book, "is his handy work."

"That's a shame," Steve says softly. He lifts the plastic covering the photo and peels it off the sticky backing, holding it up to his face to get a closer look — his eye sight is pretty back after so many concussions after all.

"Ya know, if his hair was a little longer, like mullet style, he'd almost look like a dark-haired Billy Hargrove," Steve points out.

Robin snatches the photo out of his hand, holding it out stretched like she can see it better that way instead. "Oh, shit. You're right. That's so weird."

Eddie snatches it back, top lip curled in disgust. "I don't want to speak ill of the dead, but how fucking dare you in any way compare my gorgeous existence to that guy."

Steve snickers and presses a kiss to Eddie's cheek. "I'm sorry, babe. You're right."

The photo gets tucked back into its place and they keep flipping through the book. There's more of Eddie as an infant, a few more of his dad, even a couple of a young Wayne in his military uniform holding a toddler Eddie by his arms as he jumps up, legs gangly and wild. Any photo that might have contained Eddie's mom is ripped, none of them cleanly, and there's only the occasional hand or blur of dark hair. Even still, it does stop happening once Eddie's about six months old.

"Wow. So you really don't know what your mom looks like?" Nancy asks finally as they're setting the photo album in a box.

"Oh no I do," Eddie says. "I have one singular picture of her from right after I was born. Wayne saved it for me."

"Oooooo can we see?" Robin pipes in. Eddie shrugs, getting up to dig through a shoebox that Steve's seen before but somehow managed to avoid snooping through — not that he didn't think about it all the time for the last year they've been together.

He comes back with a photo, plopping back into his spot while his friends and boyfriend crowd around him once more.

It's dead silent for several minutes, all of them staring at the picture. Eddie always figured his uncle was on to something when he said Eddie looked more like his mom, but now that he's about her age when this photo was taken, he thinks he can really see it.

On his left, Steve is trying to process exactly what he's looking at. Sure, the woman in the photo looks like she has the same dark hair that Eddie does, though it's a lot less curly, but aside from the hair and the tired look on her face, she could be a dead ringer for —

"Either Mrs. Wheeler has a doppleganger, or a secret twin we don't know about," he says.

He glances at Robin for a second before looking at Eddie and Nancy. They're heads are bowed over the photo, wearing matching expressions of wide-eyed shock.

Wait.

Matching.

Oh shit.

"Eddie," Robin says carefully. "What's your mom's name?"

His jaw opens and closes a few times before he croaks out, "Elizabeth, but Wayne said she only ever went by—"

"Her middle name?" Nancy asks, the fear of knowing the answer obvious in the wobble of her voice.

Eddie flips the photo over to look at the names and date written on the back. He's looked at it a million times, tracing her loopy handwriting so much over the years that it's slightly smudged, but still legible.

Karen Elizabeth Harvey + Edward Wayne Munson, November 1965

"Oh shit."

——————————————

no-pressure tags if anyone also wants to share a brainworm: @tedewitt @hornedqueenofhell @malikat24601 @spectrum-spectre

[livwritesstuff]

inspired by a questionable boy-mom tiktok i was subjected to

Eddie can say with confidence that, if he’d been asked many years ago, he would never have guessed he’d be raising three girls. As phenomena go, he doesn’t know how statistically likely it is (Steve maintains it's 50-50, Eddie isn’t so sure). Thirteen years into parenthood, he’s still fuckin’ thrilled about it. He and Steve are raising a kick-ass trio of ladies, and he’s perfectly pleased with his life and his family, which is great because he’d learned pretty quick that most other people are actually miserable with their own lives and like to project their misery onto everyone else.

He also learned that people have a weird complex about raising boys.

Both Eddie and Steve used to get a lot of comments (mostly from strangers in public) about how they’re raising all girls.

When they’re all out together, it’s usually something like at least it’ll only take one boy to even the playing field for you guys, right?

Alone, Eddie gets quite a bit of sexist crap from people who assume he’s straight and raising the girls with a wife, stuff along the lines of you must’ve been disappointed when the last one came out and what’s one more shot, right and the most frequent grimace with sorry, man.

Steve once had a very odd encounter with a woman who’d apparently told him that he needed to give his wife a boy so she’d know what true love really was. Steve had apparently made a very quiet and very polite scene about it which, in Eddie’s opinion, is entirely understandable because that’s weird as fuck for a plethora of reasons.

Now that girls are older, they themselves report hearing the occasional commentary on the subject when it comes up in their own lives. 

Once, when Eddie had (somewhat stupidly) brought all three girls to the grocery store, he’d rounded the corner to see fifteen-year-old Moe leaning against their shopping cart and regarding an older woman with an expression of politely-veiled disdain (it’s a very Steve expression, actually).

“Three girls,” the woman says incredulously, “God, your poor dad.”

Eddie watches Moe make a face 

“Uh…well, they do like us, y’know,” she replies.

“Right you are, my brilliant girl,” Eddie grins, as he walks up to her, “Right you definitely are.”

[mrs-march-ahs]

eddie being patient and repeating himself if steve has trouble hearing him the first time around

steve encouraging eddie to wear his glasses by telling him how hot he looks in them

eddie whispering into steve's ear what somebody said if steve didn't hear but doesn't want to be annoying and ask

steve calmly taking eddies dirty classes off his face while eddie talks and wiping them then just putting them back on his face

eddie reminding steve to take naps and rest when he has a migraine and stroking his hair while he naps

steve reminding eddie to do his eyedrops or just coming up behind him while he eats breakfast, and tilting his head, kissing his forehead and doing them for him

them caring for each other when they don't want to take care of themselves

[aprilclementine]

can’t get the thought out of my head that Steve had come to terms with his feelings before Eddie did, and it’s so obvious to everyone except but Eddie. touching and holding him at every chance he gets, spending all his free time with him, and then the daydreams start. Steve even starts getting high with Eddie, just to be with him more, and the weed just seems to elevate his day dreams.

One lazy night, the boys are up in Steve’s room, laid out on his bed, passing a blunt between the two of them as they stared up at Steve’s ceiling. finding comfort in the presence of each other, Steve had reached for Eddies hand that laid between him, and laced their fingers together. The boys would throw out comments between moments of silence, (Stevie, this wallpaper is a f-cking eye sore).

Steve had turned on his side now, watching Eddie inhale deeply, the way his cheeks hollowed, and rounded out again as he held the smoke. He watched as Eddie closed his eyes, letting the weed burn in his throat, and rolled his head out over Steve’s pillow, to blow the smoke up towards the ceiling. Steve hadn't even realized he was white-knuckling the sides of his jeans with his unoccupied hand.

Steve closes his eyes, moving to lay on his back again. He needs to get his breathing back under control, because right now, the only image he can see behind his eyelids is Eddie between his legs, jaw locked, like he cant stop giving him head, lips stretched out around Steve’s big-

Steve shakes his head, willing himself to open his eyes. He turns his head, just as Eddie is mindlessly holding out the blunt for him to take. Steve takes it with a shaky hand, glad Eddie doesn't notice, as he brings it to his lips, taking a long drag, letting it out with a sigh.

"What's on your mind, sweets?" Eddie had asked, eyes closed, free hand drumming his fingers over his torso.

Steve paused, taking another hit, counting in his head before he released. "Just thinking about how I've never chain-smoked before, I'm so new to all this."

Eddie let out a quiet laugh, "Chain-smoke? Steve, do you mean shotgunning?"

Steve looked at Eddie, pout evident on his lips. "What? What's shotgunning?"

Eddie was now reaching for the blunt in Steves hand, "Can I just show you?"

Steve had nodded slowly, turning his body to face Eddie. "Course, you can, is it like when you blow out those O-shaped rings?"

Eddie shook his head, letting go of Steve’s hand, sitting up on his knees, Steve’s eyes following him closely. Steve watched as Eddie put the blunt in his mouth, holding it in place, as he moved closer to Steve, pushing his shoulder back so Steve was laying on his back again.

Steves mouth fell open slightly, as Eddie slowly put a leg over his thighs. Steve looked up at Eddie with pleading eyes, as Eddie leaned over his torso, and used a hand to hold Steve’s jaw in place, as he used his thumb to drag his chin down, opening Steve’s mouth more, before moving said hand to lay flat against the bed, right beside Steve’s head.

Eddie used his other hand to pull the joint out of his mouth, brows furrowed slightly, as he held the smoke in his mouth, before he leaned in and released the smoke in Steve’s open mouth.

Steve, who had seemed to have slipped into a state of shock the second Eddie put his hand on his jaw, was brought back to reality as he felt the burn of the smoke hit the back of his throat, and the faintest touch of Eddies lips against his. Time moved in slow motion for Steve, as if Eddie had let his lips linger on his for a beat too long, before Eddie was sitting up slowly, as Steve turned to the side blowing the smoke out.

Steve had to close his eyes again, to make sure he wasn’t having some super vivid weed-induced daydream. But, when he turned towards where Eddie sat, opening his eyes again, being met with Eddies intense gaze, looking at Steve as if he was pondering something. Eddie sits up a little more, holding the blunt out to Steve. “Wanna try now?”

Steve had to dig his nails into his palm until he was sure he had drawn blood, before he replied. “Can I?” He asked as he grabbed the almost roach, from Eddies hand.

Eddie nodded simply, leaning back on his palms, as Steve sat up. “Lay em on me, big boy.”

Steve had let out a soft laugh, at the nickname, trying to ease the nerves. He brought the blunt to his mouth, inhaling deeply, moving it away from his face, as he leaned into Eddie.

Steve’s mind was racing, no way this was just straight-bro activites, no way, he could never have imagined Tommy H partaking in shotgunning with him, so Steve hesitated, didn't even let his lips slightly touch Eddies, as he blew the smoke into his mouth.

Steve couldn’t even grab Eddies face, and he so badly wished he could've, he wanted to grab Eddies face, and keep their lips pressed together, passing smoke back and forth. Steve wanted to discard of the blunt and grip Eddies hair so he could pull on it roughly, and hear the sweet sounds he would make for Steve, and Steve only.

But, Steve hesitated. Steve hesitated because Eddie was straight, and they were just two friends, just doing what friends do, apparently.

Steve pulled back as soon as the last of the smoke left his mouth, looking for any sign of regret on Eddies face, as blew the smoke out of his mouth with a sigh.

"You did it wrong, Harrington." Steve looked at Eddie, confused as Eddie sat up straigth again.

"Let me show you how it's actually done."

"Eddie, the blunts practically all filter now, you won't even be able to-"

"Steve, give it to me." Steve handed over what was left of the blunt, to Eddie, putting his hands up in defense.

"See, Eds, theres no way-" Steve cut himself off watching Eddie pinch the end, as he brought it to his lips, inhaling, as he used his other hand, to grab the side of Steves face, and pull Steve so close to himself, their chests were flush with eachothers, and Steve was worried eddie could hear his rapid heartbeat.

Before Steve could even give it another thought, Eddie was slamming his lips into Steves, if Steve hadn't been so shocked by the sudden action he wouldve realized there was little to no smoke in Eddies mouth to begin with.

Steves body finally caught up to his brain, and he deepened the kiss, bringing one hand up to the nape of Eddies neck, and the other gripping his waist. Eddie hummed against Steves mouth, and hooked his other arm around Steve, still holding his face in the other.

Steve was the first to pull away from the kiss. “I wish I would’ve started chain smoking sooner.” Steve said in between breaths, as Eddie moved lower to kiss along his neck.

Eddie sighed sitting up, rubbing at his temple. “Steve, it's called shotgunning. SHOTGUNNING!”

-

i have had this short thing in my drafts for a week now and have been so busy trying to perfect the bartender Steve rockstar Eddie fic, and juggle work and school. but!!! winter break is soon so i hope you enjoyed this little thing before i can get back to my longer posts!

[alien-magnolia]

Eddie Munson’s Little Housewife

This one’s pretty kinky!! Fic description and warnings down below:

18+ minors DNI.

Fic description: Dom! Eddie Munson x fem!subby reader, smutty smut, praise/degradation kink, daddy kink, impact play, collaring, service! kink

“Princess!!,” you hear your boyfriend shout from the other side of the trailer. He was in the living room, you were in his room, just laying around in bed.

You wore one of his oversized band shorts, and pretty hot pink lace panties!! With frilly socks to match, of course. You hear him call you and quickly jump off the bed to run to him.

You come into the living room and there he is, sitting on the couch, manspread, a dwindling flame from the cigarette in his mouth. “Come here, sweet girl,” he says, and pats his lap, motioning for you to sit. You skip over to him, settling in on his lap. He holds your thighs together with his big calloused hand, and you sling your arm around his shoulders.

“I got a little idea, sweetheart. A little idea for our play time, for a scene,” he starts. You knew this was coming. Anytime he wants to talk with you on his lap, you had a feeling it was going to be something dirty.

You felt that little jolt between your legs. Eds felt it too. Suddenly it was a bit hot in the room. “I like the sound of that Eds. Can I be super pretty for you??,” your voice was starting to slip into that subby space you and him loved so much. “Of course, sweet thing. How about this? We can start tomorrow. I give you a few hours to prepare, then I come home from “work” and see how good my baby can serve her Daddy. Would you like that, princess?,” he asks you, lips trailing over your neck. You giggle and squirm a bit more in his lap. “Yes.” “Yes, what?”

You felt that little jolt between your legs. Eds felt it too. Suddenly it was a bit hot in the room. “I like the sound of that Eds. Can I be super pretty for you??,” your voice was starting to slip into that subby space you and him loved so much. “Of course, sweet thing. How about this? We can start tomorrow. I give you a few hours to prepare, then I come home from “work” and see how good my baby can serve her Daddy. Would you like that, princess?,” he asks you, lips trailing over your neck. You giggle and squirm a bit more in his lap. “Yes.” “Yes, what?”

You felt that little jolt between your legs. Eds felt it too. Suddenly it was a bit hot in the room. “I like the sound of that Eds. Can I be super pretty for you??,” your voice was starting to slip into that subby space you and him loved so much. “Of course, sweet thing. How about this? We can start tomorrow. I give you a few hours to prepare, then I come home from “work” and see how good my baby can serve her Daddy. Would you like that, princess?,” he asks you, lips trailing over your neck. You giggle and squirm a bit more in his lap. “Yes.” “Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy.” “Good,” he smiles, attacking your face with kisses!!

~ The next day ~

The scene was to start in late afternoon. You found a light pink dress with some heels in your closet, and put on some jewelry and bright makeup too. Eds was outside, waiting to “come home” to his pretty little housewife. Before he left, he instructed you to clean the kitchen and make him dinner. You got dressed first, and then completed the tasks he ordered you to do. Suddenly, the door opens.

You had just finished taking his dinner out of the microwave, and setting the table for him. Here he was, dressed in a black leather jacket and black jeans this time. His top dipped down, down just below where you could see his hairy chest.

You stand there, staring at him. He’s beautiful. “Now, where are your manners, sweetheart? Aren’t you going to invite me in?,” he drawled, his voice low, taunting. It gave you a little tingle between your legs, as you brush aside the hem of your skirt and let him inside.

“Dinner’s all ready, honey. I set the table, just the way you like it,” you gesture to the table, and pull out his chair for him, bringing him a napkin as well.

He hums, satisfied. He doesn’t praise you just yet. He is waiting, waiting for you to mess up. Just so you can get punished.

He eats his dinner in silence, while you sit across from him at the table, hands folded all nice in your lap, watching him with intent. You feel like he’ll start any minute. The anticipation is killing you.

“I’m done,” he whispers, softly, and you scramble to clear his plate. You left his cup on the table. He raises his voice a bit.

“Are we forgetting something?,” he asks you. You freeze. You didn’t clear anything off the table yet. “Oh, um…,” you start.

“Ah, ah, no time for explaining now, baby. You forgot. Isn’t that right?,” he says, stepping closer to you, pushing you against a wall, his hand trailing up your skirt.

“Yes, daddy.” He huffs, “good.” He pulls out a chair into the kitchen tile, sitting on it, leaving you panting against the wall. He taps his thigh. A signal. You knew what to do. You start to walk over to him.

“No. Kneel,” he points, onto the floor. You do as he says, kneeling right in front of him, hands folded in your lap. That was his favorite position. You look up.

He takes your chin, bringing your face a bit closer to him. He pulls out your small collar out of his pocket, reaching behind you gently to put it on. It is pink, with a heart ring in the middle. He tugs on it a bit, brushing your hair behind your knee.

“Didn’t listen to daddy, did you now, sweet girl?” You shake your head, as he peppers your cheek with a few light kisses. “Now, look at you. Kneeling like a little whore, for all those neighbors to see. I think my girl needs to be put in her place, don’t you?” He smugly taunts. He tugs on your collar a bit, his calloused fingertips brushing against your soft neck. “Here’s what’s going to happen, sweetheart. I’m going to close those curtains, lock that door. I’m going to put you over my knee. And then I’ll give you as many spanks as I see fit, and you’re going to thank me for it, like the little slut you are.”

You froze again, simply mulling over his words in your head. He reaches over to you, a look of concern on his face. “Color, sweetheart? What’s your color?,” he asks. “Green, daddy. So green.” He smiles, and pats his knee again, motioning for you to get up. You loved how he checked in on you during a scene, he was so caring!!

Suddenly, you feel your skirt lifted, a cool breeze, your lavender lace thong exposed for him to see. You feel his metal rings, the shape of them, graze over your thong, pulling on it a bit. Without warning, he brings it down on your ass, you jolt forward a bit. “That’s one, princess. I think you need a minimum of twenty, maybe thirty, even. You’ve been bad.”

“Two,” he calmly says, as his calloused hand comes down on your ass again. Lucky for you, he gave you only ten more until you were shaking a bit in his lap. He gently pulls you up, and lays you on the table, face down.

You can’t see what he is doing, but you feel him now on top of you, his hairy chest pressing down onto your small, bare, back!! He grunts a bit, and you feel his hands near your backside. “Spread those cute little thighs for me. There you go, sweetie. What a good girl.”

You can’t do much but nod and moan, and soon enough you feel his big calloused fingers push Into you, god — it felt so good. “Fuck, — he grunts. This sweet little cunt is just sucking me in. You must be so ready for me, sweetie.” His voice —just so sweet. “Gonna give you my cock now, honey.”

With that, he slides Into you, your squelching pussy just pulling him in more and more, you felt so full and good, all stuffed with your daddy’s cock! “Fuck, princess, so fuckin’ good baby, so tight, can’t even move, what a good little slut you are for me,” he praises, stroking your hair with one of his hands, and the other holding your hips up firmly in place.

“Gonna go fast now, sweetie. You just lay there and take it for me, ‘kay?” “Yes, daddy,” you answer him, softly, brain too empty to think. You feel one his hands steady your shoulders, and then he starts pounding into you, ruthlessly, grunting, at a pace that has the table shaking.

“God — he was so strong and you loved it!! You felt his soft and big balls against you, as he drove his fat cock deeper and deeper into you. “Too deep, s’ too deep, daddy, can’t take it anymore,” you squeal out to him, and yet he does nothing but calm uou with some more “it’s okay, princess, just be a good girl and take it for me.” And soon enough, you feel his hot seed spill out into you, and with that, he is about to pull out. You grab his wrist. “Want your cock, daddy. Want it in.”

He agrees, kissing you on the cheek lightly. “S’okay, sweetie. We can stay like this. My perfect little housewife, huh? She’s so good for me, letting me breed her on the table like that. My perfect girl, so good for me,” he coos at you, as he momentarily pulls out, to slide you on your back. He lays back down on top of you, his heavy body pressing down on your little one, he slides his cock back in.

“How about we cuddle a bit, and then I can take a bath with you? How does that sound, sweetie? Did so good for me today…,” he coos at you some more, you run your hands through his fluffy dark brown locks. You loved scenes with your Eds — you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[straight4joekeery]

Nancy: And then they ran into my knife. They ran into my knife ten times.

Steve: You mean you stabbed them?

Nancy: They ran into my knife.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin: I’ve never asked someone out. How do you even do it?

Steve: Oh, what I do is, I look them up and down and I say: “Hey… how you doin’?”

Eddie, scoffing: Oh, please.

Steve, to Eddie: Hey, how you doin’?

Eddie:

Eddie: *giggles and blushes*

~~~~~~~~~~~

*The squad™️ when they drop food on the floor*

Nancy: Aw man. *Throws it away*

Robin: Five second rule!

Eddie: Foolish germs, thinking they can stop me!? *Eats it off the floor*

Steve: *Sobs on the floor*

~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie: What happened to Nancy?

Steve: She died.

Eddie: She what?

Steve: She died, but she’s okay.

Eddie: …Can you please clarify?

Nancy: Clarification is for the weak.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin: You just saved me? Why?!

Eddie: People would think I murdered you if I didn't.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve: We call that a traumatic experience.

Steve, turning to Robin: Not a "bruh moment".

Steve, turning to Eddie: And DEFINITELY not an "oof LMAO".

~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin: So... what’s goin’ on?

Steve: You want the long version or the short version?

Robin, hesitantly: The short one, I guess?

Steve: Shit’s fucked.

Robin: Oh. Well, yeah, that’s definitely not an optimal situation.

~~~~~~~~~~~

*Robin and Nancy are in a car teetering on the edge of a cliff*

Robin: oh my god, Nancy, backwards!

Nancy: Really, Robin? I thought I might go forwards into the river, I thought that would be a fun thing to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin: I’m the sexiest bitch in this therapy waiting room.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Nancy: I don't want to fight you!

Eddie: I wouldn't want you to fight me either!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie: My assistance will be an act of beneviolence.

Nancy: ...Don’t you mean benevolence?

Eddie: No.

[eddies-artofsuffering]

Part I: Sweet Tooth

(Part II)

Eddie stares down at his wristwatch. One minute to noon. Just one more minute.

“Want us to clear the path?” Argyle claps him on his shoulder and squeezes. “It’s almost time.”

“I don’t – I don’t know. Maybe you guys could stand behind the kitchen doors? You can see through the windows, right?” Eddie scrunches his nose.

He can feel it, he’s been conditioned to it by now, the familiar pit of anticipation. Other people may call it butterflies. Eddie thinks it’s more like pterodactyls breathing fire inside his stomach. He desperately needs someone to hold his fucking hand during this hardship.

But he also really, really doesn’t want anyone up close to witness him making a fool of himself in front of Hot Steve - a new regular customer at their cafe. An incredibly attractive guy who works at the bookstore next door.

Eddie can NOT fuck this up. It only happens once a day, for a maximum of three minutes.

“Maybe today’s the day you ask him out,” Jonathan smiles. Dude never smiles with his eyes. It’s kind of unsettling.

“Absolutely not, have you seen Hot Steve?” Eddie groans. “There’s no way he plays for my team. He’s –“

The doorbell chimes. Eddie’s head snaps towards the entrance, mouth falling open. Hot Steve is walking towards him, holy shit. It’s go time. Eddie shoos his coworkers away with a frantic wave, straightens his name tag, and rests his chin on his palm and bends over a little, elbow on the counter.

This is always the way he greets Hot Steve. It’s his signature move. Although, it hasn’t really worked yet. If it worked, Eddie would’ve won Hot Steve’s attention by now. But this is the best he got at the moment, damn it.

“Hi, Eds, how are you doing?” Hot Steve is wearing a baby-blue button-down today, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His name tag pin on the left side of his chest glints.

Eddie loves that Steve came up with that nickname on his own, despite only having seen him here at Cafe Byers for, like, two weeks now.

“Better now that you’re here.” Eddie gives him a cheeky smile, If Argyle and Jonathan were here, they might’ve been impressed with how smooth it sounded; they always comment on the way he flirts, the things he says. If you ever said shit like that to me, I’d be hella blushing, brochacho. You know you got game, right?

What they don’t know is that these lines are rehearsed in his head, so many times. It’s all Eddie ever does: practice pickup lines for Hot Steve.

“Right out of the gate, huh? You're makin' me blush,” Hot Steve smiles, and honestly, it’s hard to tell if he’s blushing at all. Or if he’s even flustered. Hot Steve's always so confident. “I’ll get a latte. With oat milk, please?”

“Oh?” Oat milk? That’s new. Steve didn’t care last time what milk he was getting. Interesting. Or is it? Eddie decides to file that information away for later. “Yea, coming right up.”

“Thanks.”

Another thing about Hot Steve that really does something to Eddie’s overworked pterodactyls, is that he never has a phone with him. Or on him. If it is, it's never visible.

Which is odd, because the entire café is littered with folks who cannot tear their eyes away from their little gadgets and devices, especially their phones; most people can’t even wait for their drinks without looking at them, checking something constantly, emails or texts or whatever. 

And, well, Hot Steve never does any of that. He always waits at the end of the counter, patiently watching Eddie making drinks. It always makes him feel so self-conscious. Eddie’s burnt his hands under hot steam a couple of times, actually.

But these two, maybe three minutes of Eddie making a fresh beverage for Hot Steve – this is the only time he gets to make small talk with him. Each time, he learns something new about him, or confirms something that Eddie’s already inferred. The grand question of the day is: “So, who’s the drink for?”

Hot Steve blinks rapidly, as if coming out of a daze. “Uh – what?”

“Whose drink is this?” Eddie says, tamping the coffee grounds. “I’m assuming it’s not yours.”

“How… did you know it’s not mine?” he narrows his eyes.

God. It’s really telling, isn’t it, that Eddie’s noticed these things? “First time for you to ask for oat milk, so. I don’t know, I figured,” he shrugs.

Hot Steve opens his mouth as if to say something. Then he doesn’t. In the corner of Eddie’s eyes, he sees him nodding with pursed lips, with a hint of a smirk. It’s so distracting that Eddie almost heats up regular milk despite this whole conversation being around someone’s (not Steve’s, apparently) preference for plant-based milk. Oops.

He finishes making the latte and walks over to the cash register, handing over the drink. Steve receives it with a small thanks. 

But Eddie knows Steve's not quite done here today. Because, when you have a tiny (massive) crush on a near-stranger, you just, kind of look for patterns. That’s just how human minds work; Eddie has been carefully collecting all the little information about Hot Steve, just based on the few minutes that he spends at the café at noon.

Which is how that Eddie’s almost certain (almost, because there’s always room for anomalies) what Hot Steve’s about to do when he asks, “Is that it for today?”

“Oh – um,” Hot Steve scans the glass case of assorted desserts and baked goods, subconsciously wetting his lips. “Actually, yea. Can I have the blueberry crumble, please?”

This is one of the very few predictable things about him. Eddie doesn’t know why Hot Steve even looks at the shelves of sweets each time as if he’s ever going to make a different choice, because it’s always the same, the only constant pattern besides his entrance that he’s ever shown Eddie: the house blueberry crumble, the ones that Eddie bakes himself.

And every time Hot Steve asks for it, Eddie has to turn around and flex his arms, letting out a silent scream of victory, because Hot Steve is fucking hooked on those things. It’s truly incredible to know that he wants it. Eddie pours his heart and soul into those.

“Of course, babe,” he swoops down, takes a small square piece out with tongs, wraps it in a pocket of parchment paper. “D’you know I bake these every morning?”

“You – it’s you?” Hot Steve’s eyes widen comically. “Wow. I thought they were, like, shipped over from a bakery or something.”

“We do have an oven,” Eddie points behind the kitchen with his thumb and looks back, makes a mistake of drawing attention to the door, only remembering then that Argyle and Jonathan are probably watching this whole thing. Really hoping that they’re being discreet. 

“That’s amazing. I – I love them,” he says, not at all looking behind, thank God. “Guess you’re good with your hands.”

Eddie could practically hear the angelic chorus from the sky. Holy shit. Hot Steve loves his crumbles. Fuck. He could cry. 

But, you know. Everything always comes to an end, and that’s usually how far their conversation goes. Nothing more than just small talk, and then Hot Steve would pay for the stuff, go back to the next-door bookstore where he works. And until the next day, it’s as if he doesn’t even exist. A mythical creature that only appears during those three minutes in time and space, then vanishes afterwards. 

So he tries, just one last time before he leaves. “Steve?”

“Yea?” Hot Steve looks up, batting his lashes. They’re – so – pretty. So long, delicate. Such a fucking contrast to his muscular arms and chest that his thin blue shirt does nothing to hide, sleeves and buttons ready to pop. It’s sinful.

Fuck, and time’s ticking, yet there are so many things Eddie wants to ask. What is your drink, then? ‘Cause you never get the same drink twice.

Why is it always at noon? Is that your break?

Where are you from? When does your shift end? You do work at the bookstore, right?

When are you free?

All of these are more or less reasonable, if not a tiny bit creepy questions. But any of these would’ve been so much better than what Eddie actually blurts out, so out of the left field that he surprises even himself: “So, uh, how much do you bench?”

Oh, fuck. Where the hell did that come from? Eddie cringes hard inside, unsure how those words, that kind of vernacular even came out of his mouth, please, he wants to rewind time - 

But it's spilled oat milk. Guh. He crinkles his nose to prepare himself to apologize. Sorry. That was so – I’m not a gym bro. I’m not! Look at me! He's about to say, but:

“You wanna know?”

Hot Steve has a shit-eating grin on. That’s a first. There might even be a faint blush on his cheeks. Holy shit. Hot Steve took the fucking bait. Not that it was bait – it was just Eddie being a fucking disaster – but he nods all the same, stupidly. Of course he wants to know. He’s committed, now.

“Let’s see.” Hot Steve’s now circling around the counter to take a closer look at Eddie, eyes travelling up and down. It feels like Hot Steve is undressing him with his eyes. It’s kind of insane that they’re doing this in public.

Hmm. 140, 145 at the most – Hot Steve mutters under his breath. “Oh yea. Easy,” he says, still smiling wickedly.

“What do you mean, easy?” Eddie croaks.

His breath hitches when Hot Steve leans over the counter, inches away from Eddie’s face. “Probably could do twenty reps of you,” he whispers, winking.

Eddie’s brain short-circuits. He stares open-mouthed at Hot Steve, unable to move until he exits the café with the drink and a brown bag, fading away from view. Gone for the rest of the day, rest of the evening. Rest of the next morning. Only to return the next day at noon, like a fucking reverse-Cinderella.

“Why were you guys whispering?” Jonathan appears from behind, nudging him on the arm. “What did he say? Did you finally ask him out?”

“I’m about to ask him out myself if you don’t,” Argyle says lazily, earning a sharp smack from Jonathan. “Just joking, man, you know you’re my main dude,” he squeezes a squirming Jonathan on the side.

“He… “ Eddie gulps, closing his eyes, and pictures Hot Steve’s tantalizing smile. “He winked.”

Continue reading on Ao3

Read the sequel: Savour

[str4ngergirlw0rld]

𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬𝒀𝑺 𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑹

hi i am lovey, i am twenty one and i love love love ST. if you ever feel lonely don’t hesitate to message me , i love you guys sm !

stevie sweet sex harrington

stevie as a bf

stevie takes his time smutty blurb

steve handsy blurb - coming soon !!

protective stevie

steve vecna’d reader

needy r & steve

steve angst

life saver

one beer

eddies nicknames 4 u

messy eddie

you are eddies comfort

eddies words 2 u

eddie can’t keep his hands off of you

eddie as a bf

angsty eddie blurb - pt2

wayne and eddies chef

subby to dom eddie

needy eddie

NASTY eddie

accidental mean eddie

eddies nightmares

makeup madness

eddies soulmates

steve being all boy til hes w u and eddie

them being the best bfs

smutty thought

their love languages

riding them

sneaky plan

first outing as a throuple

jerkin their own w ur help

[strawberryspence]

belated happy birthday, @unclewaynemunson. this is so late already, but i had finals, so sorry for that. i am so very lucky to be able to call you my friend and even more lucky to be able to know you. i love you and that rat in your kitchen. 💜

-

Steve’s shaking. His hands won’t stop trembling and his knees are close to bucking in.

Which is— ridiculous. It’s just dinner with Uncle Wayne. Uncle Wayne.

The same man who also took him in when his parents finally kicked him out for being a “sinner” and for sleeping with one of “the devil’s soldiers.” The same man who took him to the hospital when his migraine got so bad, he begged for death. The same man who accepted his and Eddie’s relationship wholeheartedly and made them breakfast with raised eyebrows.

It’s just Wayne.

Steve doesn’t really know why he’s trembling with anxiousness when his knuckles finally make contact with the apartment door— the one Eddie and Steve got for him (after a very long time of pursuing and pushing because no matter how famous and rich Eddie gets, Wayne still thinks they should keep everything for emergencies). He deserves it after everything.

“Steve.” The door swings open, Wayne’s smile greeting him.

He’s older now. More wrinkles, more white hairs. He’s got a creak in his knees that Eddie keeps teasing him on. He’s still dressed in one of his hundreds of flannels, a sweater underneath it to shield him from the colder weather.

“Hi, Wayne.”

They hug for a while, say their hellos, ask how the other is doing (not like Steve doesn’t know, they just talked through the phone yesterday, just like every other day). Steve helps him set the table, just for the two of them. Steve doesn’t say anything when Wayne takes out the mac and cheese with crumbled bacon from the oven, Steve’s favorite Wayne delicacy, he only smiles and starts digging in to eat his nerves away.

“So…” Wayne starts, after a sliver of silence, a second after they talk about the latest basketball game and how Sinclair’s play was impressive on the latest game.

“Hmm?” Steve hums, chewing through the food like it’s his last meal on earth.

“Listen, I love having dinner with you, son. But I can’t help but notice that Eddie was not invited.” Wayne raises an eyebrow at him, and it takes him back to the morning when Eddie and Steve finally tell him that they’re dating.

“Oh. Uhm.” Steve straightens up. He can do this. He rehearsed his speech in front of the mirror and then in front of Nancy who changed a few things and then in front of Robin who gave him the green light.

“So as you know, Eddie and… I… well, we’ve been together for over ten years now. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time now, and I know it’s not legal. I don’t know if it’s ever going to be, but I can’t wait any longer. Every day I don't get to call him my husband makes me— breathless. So, yes, I want to marry Eddie.” Steve announces firmly, before sputtering to follow it up, “With your permission and approval!”

Well… throw the whole speech out of the window then, damn.

Wayne blinks at him, hands crossing on his chest, as he watches Steve. It makes him nervous, activating his ramblings, “Eddie… Eddie is the best thing that has ever happened to me and I want to continue making him happy for the rest of my life. I know— I know I am not perfect, but I try my best every day. I will do everything and anything for that man, and I would never do anything to hurt him. He makes me a better person by just existing and he— Eddie— is the love of my life. But none of that matters without your approval, I can never marry him without your approval.”

They sit in silence for a second before Wayne stands up and disappears to his room. Steve sits still. That’s— that’s rejection, right? Should Steve just leave? Maybe he should clean the dishes before leaving?

Before Steve can even stand and start cleaning the plates, Wayne comes marching out of the room again.

He sits in front of Steve again, a soft smile on his face, “Listen, Steve. Eddie’s his own man. He always has been. But I appreciate you asking me for my permission, and I give it to you wholeheartedly.”

Wayne pushes a small box on the table, pushing it towards Steve.

“What’s this?” Steve whispers, astonished by the approval.

“Open it.” Wayne urges, as Steve lifts the box, popping the lid open.

A small gasp spills from Steve’s mouth. Inside the box is a beautiful silver engagement ring. There’s a garnet stone in the middle, surrounded and hugged by silver to accentuate the gem. Steve looks up at him, eyes wide.

“This is our gamma’s engagement ring. I am sure it’s older than that. But I got it back from my sister when she—“ Wayne pauses, grief still fresh even if it’s been almost 30 years, “— passed on. With Eddie’s preferences, I didn’t think it would be possible, so I kept it for safekeeping.”

Steve shuts the box as he starts shaking his head immediately, pushing the box back, “Wayne— I can’t— I don’t deserve—“

Wayne shakes his head, wrapping Steve’s hand on the box, “Steve, none of that nonsense. I’ve always seen you as a son, this just makes things official. It belongs to Eddie and I know he would love it, and I would love for you to use it.”

Steve stares at him as Wayne finally stands up, arms opening wide, “Well, come on. Give your father-in-law a hug.” Steve laughs, tears filling his eyes as he stands up to hug Wayne. How could he ever think this man would tell him no? Not when Wayne’s seen him as a son long before Steve even saw him as another dad.

Wayne tightens his arms around him, gently whispering, “You’ve always been part of this family, but still, welcome to the family, Steve.”

(And in a few weeks, when Steve finally goes on one knee, his heart in one hand and the ring on the other, Eddie will say yes. And Wayne will proudly watch his sons cry and laugh with happiness, give them two thumbs up, and a proud smile.)

[vesselforsatin]

Eddie thinks that Nancy and Steve are getting back together. He sees their heads pressed together and laughing while smiling at each other. Wayne comes home to find Eddie laying on the floor and blasting “Jolene” on repeat. He goes about his business while his nephew sings the lyrics into the rug in between mumbled curses at the concept of love.

Turns out Steve and Nancy are not getting back together. They were actually bonding how hot they think Sigourney Weaver is and giggling about how she reminds them of their respective crushes. Eddie finds this out after Wayne calls Nancy to come talk some sense into him after the fourteenth repeat of “I Will Always Love You.”