#as if i don’t always write something silly for steddie

[klausinamarink]

based on this hilarious video with Gianmarco Soresi whom I’ve been watching his comedy work for a few months now

read on ao3

“What do you do?” The standup of the hour - the guy had introduced himself as Eddie - points at Steve.

Flustered at the attention directing every eye in the club to his table, Steve tries not to stammer as he answers, “Well, uh, I make movies.”

“Oh!” Eddie genuinely looks interested. “So you’re a director?”

“Yeah, pretty much. At least I started out as an indie, but I have a big project that’s out and a couple more on the way.” One table nearby claps and Steve tries to wave them off to stop.

“So what was that big project? Was it something we would’ve seen?” Eddie repositions himself so he has one leg up on the stool. Steve stares at how lean they seem with the tight black jeans. He’s got them daddy long legs. His brain suddenly burps out and it nearly makes Steve lose his composure.

“Uh, ha, I did The Final Bat. It’s on Shudder.” Steve shrugs nonchalantly, perfectly hiding his internal cringe. The horror genre is way out of his league and Steve’s already seen The Final Bat being on a few critical lists damning the title as another cliche-filled mess. He only did it because he had finally caved to Dustin’s pleading to make at least one horror movie.

Eddie, on the other hand, seems ecstatic by this revelation. “No way! That’s sick, dude! So the next time you make a horror flick, you’re gonna watch Blumhouse and A24 coming in at each other with steel chairs for distribution rights.”

Everyone laughs, including Robin. She smacks on Steve’s bicep with a wide grin. He smacks her back before he turns back to Eddie and clarifies, “I don’t like horror! I’m not doing it again!”

Aghast, Eddie throws an invisible hat to the ground and stamps on his feet. “Come on! Then what’s the point of watching the studios bite each other’s dicks off when you’re slipping out to watch - I don’t know - the Barbie movie! Now they’re just fighting for the next shitty horror movie to exist!”

Steve covers his mouth but fails to hold back in the laughter. Eddie’s infectious energy is starting to get to him. It makes his chest clench with something other than the usual pains.

Eddie patiently waits for the patrons to quiet down before continuing, still attentive to Steve, “I’m just wondering actually if you ever done theater class.”

“Sure did! Two years in high school,” Steve confirms.

“Let me guess, they did Hamlet?” Eddie raises an eyebrow like it’s meant to be accusatory.

“Yep, soon after I joined.” Steve nods, the memory of that production flashing before his eyes. It had its ups and downs but it was one of the most fun things Steve had ever experienced.

“No wonder they started as soon as your handsome ass walked in the club.” Eddie says low and flirtatiously into the microphone, staring directly into Steve’s eyes. It echoes across the room and back, bringing the howling laughter with it.

Heat crawls behind his face. Steve keeps his hands on the table, forcing down the urge to hide behind them. “I-” He stops to cough, “I wasn’t supposed to play Hamlet.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, “What do you mean?!”

Robin answers loud enough for everyone to hear, “He was the grave robber, but the other guy who did Hamlet got into a coma a week before the show and Steve knew all the lines.”

“W-Woah, woah, woah!” Eddie holds his hands out, looking scandalous. He throws looks around the club. “Everyone, shut the fuck up right now! This is more important than caring about the rest of you!” Eddie drags the stool over and perches on it like a very much invested gargoyle, almost oblivious to the audience’s reaction.

“Okay, let me go through this.” He points at Steve, still holding eye contact as if Steve’s soul would provide the answer. “You weren’t Hamlet. You were meant to be the guy who gives him the skull to monologue. The OG Hamlet got into a coma for some reason-“

“Car accident.” Robin interjects.

“Yeah, no need to elaborate, ma’am. You, Steve-” Eddie breaks off for a second, holding back a laugh of his own. “You somehow knew all the Hamlet lines because you were waiting to skin OG Hamlet’s head and make his skull yours to do the monologue.”

There’s a scandalous outcry from all tables. Even when they mostly calm down, Steve uses the growing anticipation to ‘think’ about what Eddie just said before he casually shrugs and says, “Sounds about right.”

Eddie drops his face into his arm, letting everyone laugh at him. Steve lets himself break, his laughter bubbling out of him in a way that doesn’t sound so self-deprecating or hollow. If he was in a cynical mood, he would’ve thought it was pathetic that the only person who made him laugh so lightly again was some random standup.

After a moment, Eddie finally looks up, his face broken in disbelieving grin. He chuckles into the mic and looks back at Steve, “Sorry, it’s just I hear some wild stories in the crowd some nights and I think yours takes the cake.”

Steve smiles, “Thanks, man.”

Eddie stands up back, half-leaning onto the stool. “Do you still remember those lines? To be or not to be?”

The whole damn thing. “Uh… some of it?”

Eddie’s grin shifts into something more mischievous. “Let’s see who knows more.”

A collective oooh goes around the room, including Robin. She already has her phone out for recording. Steve rolls his eyes at her and takes a quick sip of his water. He clears his throat and starts, “‘To be or not to be, that is the question.’”

“‘Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune..’” Eddie says without missing a beat.

Oh, he thinks he knows it all. The sense of competition that Steve thought had died out with his future of a sports career reignites in his chest. He sits up even straighter. “‘Or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them.’”

“‘To die-to sleep, no more.’” Eddie slowly walks over to the edge of the stage, “‘And by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.’”

“'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd.’” Steve almost shivers as he recites the line, uncertain if it’s from the club’s cooling temperatures or the intense gaze from Eddie’s eyes. “‘To die, to sleep.’”

“‘To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub,’” Eddie suggestively rubs a hand on his chest as he squats down. Steve’s eyes flicker to the hand, almost hypnotized by the motion. Nay, he shakes himself out of it. No distractions!

“‘For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil.’” It’s getting harder to remember the following lines. That hasn’t happened before. Steve has never forgotten the damn soliloquy in years, even when other people try to challenge him.

Eddie continues, “‘Must give us pause—there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely.’”

“‘The pangs-’” Steve feels his breath catching in his throat when he realizes, for the first time, what beautiful eyes Eddie has.

Oh. 

Eddie suddenly perks up in excitement. For a second, Steve thinks that Eddie has come to the exact same thoughts for him. But then he remembers that he hasn’t completed his line, so Steve feigns defeat.

“I win!” Eddie stands up with a triumphant cry. He spreads his arms out to embrace the cheering whoops and applause. “And I’ve only got to play Hamlet in-” He spins around and crouches down so he can look Steve in the eye again as Eddie’s voice booms into the mic, “-FOURTH GRADE, MOTHERFUCKER!” 

Steve’s not even mad. He just throws his head back, laughing and clapping along. 

Almost too soon, Eddie moves on to heckle on another table. But he keeps glancing over at Steve, his smile widening every time. And Steve smiles back, feeling a laugh slip out of his slips at every joke. He watches Eddie more closely, feeling his heart pound faster in his chest the more Eddie stays onstage. 

By the time Eddie has to depart and thank everyone for being here, Robin announces her need to go home and snuggle with her girlfriend. 

“Man, that was the most I’ve ever laughed in this place.” Steve stretches his back, groaning at the little pops. God, being in his early thirties can be a bitch sometimes.

Robin only hums, moving her eyebrows up and down suggestively. Steve pointedly makes no further comment as he pays the tab.

Outside, the crisp night air welcomes him. Steve takes in a whiff, staring up at the light-polluted sky as he bids Robin a goodbye. Then he hears his name being called. He turns around and sees Eddie hurrying out the doors.

Steve feels a smile already on his face, “Hey, Hamlet.” 

Eddie grins at him, teeth and all, “Hey, yourself.” 

They stare at each other but it lacks the competitive intensity earlier. Steve likes this. But he already has a feeling that this won’t be the first time either one of them would challenge the other.

“Sooo…” Steve says when the silence stretches a little too long. He gestures between himself and Eddie, “Wanna restart our introductions?”

Eddie’s eyes brighten, “Yeah! Right, sorry.” He clears his throat and thrusts a hand out. “My name is Eddie Munson. Self-proclaimed comedian and musician. You may recognize me as the guy who beat you in Hamlet’s famous speech.”

Steve takes his hand. Eddie feels bony and thin, but large enough to fit perfectly into Steve’s palm. He tries not to sound so eager as he says, “Steve Harrington. Film director who doesn’t like horror. Believe it or not, I actually know the whole stupid thing.”

Eddie tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, “Really? Like, no offense, but even if you remember that much-”

“‘And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action.’” Steve winks with the Harrington Charm, smile and all. 

Eddie stares at him for so long that Steve feels his heart racing for a different reason. And then, Eddie turns around and muffles a loud scream into his free hand. When the man turns back to face him, he’s sporting the widest smile Steve has never seen.

“You knew the whole thing!?” Eddie’s eyes sparkle with utter adoration.

“Yep.” Steve pops the ‘p’, grinning like a little shit.

“But why did you forget that line?”

“Let’s just say,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand, intertwining their fingers together, “I got distracted by the pangs of love.”

Eddie bites on his lower lip as he swoons his body over so they are pressing against each other. With half-lidded eyes, Eddie whispers, “You know that part is Hamlet referring to missing his dead dad, right?”

Of course Steve couldn’t help but kiss him.

[mrsjellymunson]

Happy Halloween, Love ❤️

Pairing: Joseph Quinn x fem!reader

Summary: Joe raids the costume department at work and conspires to make this Halloween your most memorable yet.

WC: ~4.4k

CW: 🔞MDNI!🔞, NSFW, RPF, PWP, smut, porn with a little bit of plot, established relationship, role play, dressing up, slightly dom!JQ, choking (referenced), oral (everyone’s a winner), fingering, unprotected p-in-v sex (always wrap it irl), tiny bit of mutual masturbation, squirting, maybe a touch of overstimulation, Eddie and demons are referenced, pet names (numerous, including references to reader as a pet, minion and servant), no y/n or descriptions of reader’s appearance, demon fucking (sort of). Please lemme know if I’ve missed anything, and don’t read this if you’re uncomfortable with real-person fics or any of this content.

A/N: Inspired by the anonymous comment, “It’s as close as we can get to having Joseph Quinn dress up in the Eddie wig and have demon horns”, a scenario which got stuck in my head and wouldn’t leave. This might well be the only RPF I’ll write (they still weird me out a little). I hope this doesn’t put anyone off checking out my Eddie and Steddie stuff 😬 I wrote this fairly quick and it’s not beta-d. It’s also my first time sharing smut, so (constructive) feedback is most welcome!

You knock on the bedroom door gently, having slipped into your new outfit in the bathroom. Halloween season was always fun with your boyfriend Joe, both of you loving to dress up and create spooky scenarios that would inevitably lead to sexy shenanigans. You’d thought you were the only one dressing up tonight, but you were wrong.

Unbeknownst to you, Joe had raided the prop store at the studio he was currently working at, claiming he needed something for a Halloween party, and he had plans...

“Come in, darling.”

You open the bedroom door, sleeping in slowly, wanting to tease Joe with a slow reveal of the short, ivory satin robe you had on, something innocent-looking belying what was underneath.

A deep, velvet-smooth voice greets you, slowly murmuring, “Happy Halloween, my love.”

It’s Joe. Your Joe. Your kind, generous, loving and silly Joe, but there’s something else about him tonight, something you can’t quite place just yet.

He’s surprised you - the bedroom is dark, lit only by a pair of spice-scented red candles and a small, warm lamp. It’s intimate, but also somewhat lair-like, and the ambiance goes really well with the red and black skull-patterned bed linens you’d bought especially for this time of year. You love it.

Your eyes rake over your man, drinking him in. Clothes-wise he’s wearing nothing but a pair of snug black jeans and a studded belt.

Fuck, he looks so hot.

He’s looking down at the floor, hands clasped loosely behind his back, putting his delectable torso on display for you.

In addition, he’s wearing The Wig. That wig.

You’ve role played with this before; he knows how much you love Eddie’s luscious, chestnut locks, and how when he puts on the voice it all combines to rile you up. One time you even got some fake blackwork tattoos and put them on his arms and chest. That was a very fun evening.

But this time there’s more…

Amongst the curls he’s also wearing a pair of long, spiralling, ridged, red and black horns. They’re beautifully detailed. They nestle amongst the soft kinks, and the curls hide the ends of the horns and however they’re attached, making the effect all the more realistic.

God, he looks amazing.

You’re not can’t determine why he’s been looking at the floor since you came in. Is he being bashful? You’re confused, that doesn’t seem to fit the narrative…

Your question is answered when he slowly looks up at you, with a menacing, Kubrick-like stare.

He’s wearing contacts. Not just any contacts, but full-sclera, black contacts, completely obscuring his natural eyes.

You swallow, hard. Your fingers toy with the sides of the slinky robe you’re wearing, and you involuntarily squeeze your thighs together, trying to provide just a little friction to the area between them. Joe notices.

“Fuck Joe, I mean Eddie, you look-“

He cuts you off.

“There is no Joe here. No Eddie either. Only… your Master.”

You gasp at his voice, how it’s even deeper than usual and slightly menacing. You’ve always been impressed by the way he can control his voice, the timbre, volume, pitch, cadence. You’re momentarily distracted by how you’re not surprised he’s always been in acting work.

“Tell me you’re mine, my loyal minion.”

You’re broken abruptly from your reverie by Joe’s commanding tone, and you willingly play along, knees weakening and a pool of wetness forming surprisingly quickly in your underwear.

“Yes, my Master, all yours-”

You gasp as his strong hand reaches forward towards your throat, wrapping loosely around it. Not squeezing (not tonight, anyway), just demonstrating who’s in charge of this scenario.

Joe your Master smiles in that familiar way you know and love, but he keeps the sinister stare, giving everything a much darker edge.

“Well done, my precious. Now, would you like to have some fun with your Master?”

You bring one hand up from your side and gently drag the the tips of your fingernails along the inside of his forearm, a place you know is sensitive.

He breathes in quickly through his nose, trying to stifle a gasp, though you hear it. His grip on your neck tightens ever so slightly, and he tilts his chin up, narrowing his eyes and looking down his nose at you.

You surprise yourself as you reply, “Yes Master, I’m yours to command.”

Ever the consummate professional, none of Joe’s excited internal monologue shows, and he simply looks at you and murmurs, stretching out the syllables,

“Good girl...”

That’s it, you’re gone. He could do almost literally anything to you right now and you most likely wouldn’t stop him. You let out a small whimper.

Even with the dim light and the darkness of his denim, you can see the bulge in your Master’s jeans.

Releasing your throat, he moves his hand to the back of your neck, gripping firmly but not harshly, bending towards you and pulling your face to his. He crashes his lips against yours, pushing his tongue into your mouth in a passionate, messy kiss, which you eagerly return.

Breaking the kiss, he grins at you again, before removing his hand from your neck and flicking the edge of your robe near your collarbone.

“Take this off.”

You obey, slowly undoing the robe and slipping it off your shoulders. As the fabric slips to the floor you’re left in nothing but the new set that you bought especially for tonight.

Joe’s eyes caress your form, taking in the sheer, red, rose-patterned lace decorated with tiny bows.

But what’s really catching his eye is the fact that your bra is peek-a-boo style, and the ribbon ties are already undone, your nipples on display.

He hisses an inhale, and runs a thumb pad gently over one of your hardening nipples.

“This all for me?”

“Yes, Master, only for you.”

He takes a step towards you and glances to your panties.

“Are these…?”

“Crotchless? Yes, Master.”

He lets out an involuntary growl and brings his other hand to your core, pushing one finger between your thighs and swiping its tip through your already-damp folds.

Feeling your wetness he can’t help but drop his head back and moan.

It gives you a perfect view of his gorgeous neck, and you want to lick it, like you have so many times before.

Seeing Joe dressed up like this and regarding you with such obvious hunger leaves your whole body tingling, and the anticipation of him touching you more makes you feel like tinder about to combust.

You need him to have fewer clothes on too.

Biting your lip, you slowly bring a hand up between you and trace your fingertips over his solid torso, tracing shapes on his skin, touching the fine, soft hair and moving down towards his happy trail, finishing at his belt line. As your fingers reach his belt buckle, you ask,

“Please, Master, may I..?”

Your Master drops his hands to his sides and, with a lascivious grin, tongue peeping out at one corner running over his teeth, he gives you a tiny nod.

You undo his belt and jeans, running your hands inside the fabric and around his abdomen until you get to his hips. He’s not wearing anything underneath, just how he knows you like it.

You push the fabric downwards, dropping to your knees as you go, just how you know he likes it.

His cock springs free and slaps against his abdomen, fully hard already, and you drool at the sight.

Stepping out of his clothing, he positions himself in front of you, abs tensed and legs slightly apart, looking down at you with those completely black eyes, a curtain of dark curls framing his face.

“What are you gonna do for me, my servant?”

“Whatever you want me to, Master.”

You stick out your tongue as far as you can and languorously lick a broad stripe from his balls up the base and shaft of his cock, past his frenulum and all the way to the tip, where you pause at his slit, swirling your tongue and collecting a bead of precum that’s collected there.

Glancing up again, you notice he’s pursed his lips and his breathing has become uneven, all signs you’ve learnt are indicative of him enjoying what you’re doing.

Lifting both hands you gently grasp his base with one, pulling his tip slightly towards you, and caress his balls with the other, as you open your mouth and slide slowly down his length. Pausing after a couple of inches you return the other way, repeating and going further each time until your lips are touching the fingers you have wrapped around him.

He’s fully panting now, lips parted and brows gently furrowed.

“Fuck, precious, you’re gonna fucking kill me one day.”

Taking this as an indication to continue, you hollow your cheeks and suck, earning you a deep moan from his chest.

You move up and down at a slightly faster pace, sucking and licking, enjoying having your face stuffed full of him, until he’s suddenly grasping your chin and pulling you up towards him. His cock leaves your mouth with a soft pop, and you’re soon standing in front of him, eyes locked. Gruffly, he mutters,

“That’s too good, sweetheart, and I’ve got plans for you. Get on the bed.”

You obey, sitting your bottom on the edge of the bed and shuffling backwards until you’re in the centre, leaning back on your elbows.

He climbs on behind you, and using his hands and his knees he roughly pushes your knees and thighs apart, slotting himself between them.

He bends low towards your thighs, inhaling deeply and pausing for a moment, humming and enjoying the scent of your arousal.

At any other time you might be embarrassed, but his behaviour fits so well with the whole demon vibe and you find yourself heating up even more at the action.

He exhales a long, hot breath, which fans over your core, tantalising you further.

Dropping his upper body between your legs, he lets out a series of low growls as he sucks wet, biting kisses up your inner thighs, pausing occasionally to suck hard on the soft flesh. You moan at the sensation, wondering if he’ll leave bruises, excited by the idea that he might.

You use the opportunity to touch the horns for the first time, feeling the details and ridges, enjoying the contrast with the soft, flowing curls.

He eventually reaches your centre, and marvels at the lingerie framing your delicate, glistening folds.

With a gruff, animalistic hum he licks a stripe from your shining hole all the way up to your begging clit. You cry out, the most sensitive part of you finally receiving the attention it’s been craving.

Wasting no more time, he sticks his tongue out as far as it will go and pushes it inside you, moving and licking and devouring you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

You watch him with hooded eyes, trying to sear the image of this demon-god between your legs into your mind, before your arms give out and you flop backwards onto the bed, just about managing to vocalise,

“More, Master, want more of you.”

He takes the hint, bringing one hand up and pushing two fingers easily inside you, and moving his mouth to lick and suckle at your clit. You moan loudly, pushing your hips down the bed and grinding into his hand and face. He moans at this, and the vibrations start to drive you towards your peak.

He chooses this moment to curl his fingers towards your front wall, hitting that spot inside you perfectly, and you begin to see stars. He keeps up his ministrations, your moans eventually turning to wails as he gradually increases the pressure on your clit, and you can hold off no longer. Your vision turns black, your limbs lock, and for a moment you stop breathing, a bubble of euphoria bursting within you as you come undone with a scream.

He reduces the pressure on your clit but doesn’t stop, forcing you to ride out aftershock after aftershock on his face. Eventually he removes his fingers from your swollen cunt, replacing them momentarily with his tongue, before pulling off entirely. Looking down at you he lets out a feral growl. Licking his lips, he wipes his chin with the back of his hand before licking it clean, before muttering,

“Fuck, so fucking beautiful…”

As soon as he thinks you can manage, he’s pulling at one hip, assisting more than forcing, as he says, “Turn over, baby, stick that beautiful ass in the air for me.”

You do your best to manoeuvre onto your front, keeping your face and chest on the mattress and putting your knees on the bed, lifting your butt. He kneels behind you, parting your knees a little further, running his hands over the globes of your ass, fully exposed and framed prettily by your red thong.

He lets out another, “SO fucking beautiful”, before slapping one palm hard cross one cheek, making you whimper, immediately moving in to kiss the stinging flesh, laving it with his lips and tongue.

He notches his tip at your hole, and, remaining in character, murmurs, “I’ve gotta fucking have you, my beautiful little -uh- pet!”

On the last word he sheathes himself fully inside you, no consideration given for the usually slow and gradual way he’d enter you, animal passion taking over and both of you more than ready.

You groan loudly as he bottoms out, adoring the feeling of him filling you up and how he rearranges your insides every time he does.

He moans as he remains seated within you for a few moments, groaning gutturally and gripping your hips harshly.

You don’t have much of a respite, as after only a moment of acclimation he’s setting a brutal pace, pumping in and out of you with feral force and abandon, wet and breathy sounds filling the room, his cock jolting your cervix with every thrust.

He starts to mutter almost unintelligible phrases in his demonic voice, but you make out,

“So fucking perfect, so fucking good for me, taking me like the cockvessel you are, my good little minion, my pet, my beautiful, beautiful pet.”

It’s all so exquisitely overwhelming, and you start wailing into your pillow.

He chooses this moment to slip one hand around to your front, immediately finding your sensitive, sopping wet bud and pressing small, form circles into it.

This brings you almost immediately to another precipice, and you cry out, “Ohgodohgodohgod!”

You can feel yourself clench down on his length, and he growls out,

“Jeezus fucking christ, squeezing me so tight, fuck!”

Euphoria washes over you again, a tingling heat beginning in your pelvis and spreading through your entire body. You go limp, but your Master holds you to him with one strong forearm, fingers continuing to circle your clit until you move and twitch, body trying to deal with the dissonance of wanting to get away from the overstimulation but enjoying the aftershocks.

As he continues to help you ride out your second orgasm he’s desperately trying to stave off his own, and eventually pulls out abruptly, your sweat mingling as he rests his forehead on your ass, breathing deeply.

You whine at the sudden emptiness and loss of contact, but are grateful for the opportunity to slump onto your side, enjoying the potential for a short rest.

He comes to lie behind you (if you’re honest, one of your favourite positions in which to get railed), but you realise something.

“No Master, not from this angle. There’s no point in you looking like that if I don’t get to enjoy it.”

Growling again (and seeing your logic) he deftly flips you over onto your back, slotting himself between your plush thighs, tip nudging your entrance as he stares into your face.

He moves both of your arms above your head, running his hands up the soft skin of the undersides and holding them there, hands clasping your wrists and pushing them into the mattress.

He seems to consider something for a moment.

“Hmm, I haven’t given these lovely tits nearly enough attention, my love. Especially considering you decorated them so prettily for me.”

That lascivious smirk is back, and with his free hand he opens the slit in the lace on one side and hums as he licks the flat of his wet tongue over one nipple. As he moves away he lets out a sigh through his nose, cooling the flesh delightfully and causing your already hard nipple to peak even more.

He massages each breast with his free hand, but decides that’s not enough, so commands you to, “Keep those there for me, my pet”, letting go of your wrists and starting to use both of his hands on your soft mounds. He’s enjoying pushing his fingers under the holes in the lace, pushing it to the side to expose your soft flesh, squeezing and squashing, pinching your nipples and licking and sucking on your sensitive nubs. You arch your back and moan with delight at the sensations.

Eventually satisfied that he’s given your tits enough attention, he licks a wet stripe all the way from your sternum, up the side of your neck all the way to your jaw, making you shiver in delight and anticipation.

He hovers over you, tips of his curls tickling your forehead. He plunges his tongue inside your mouth again in another passionate kiss, and you can taste the musk and salt from your own skin combined with the unique taste of him.

He returns his focus to getting himself seated inside of you again. He leans forward, holding your wrists with one hand, with the other lining his member up with your hole as he moves his hips forwards.

He slowly slides into you, filling you up yet again. He fucks you slow but ever so deep, the languid pace a welcome change that allows you to feel every vein and ridge of him against your sensitive walls. You’re both trembling, all of your nerves alive with sensitivity.

“Like me fucking you like this, my pet? Want your Master to -mmm- make you cum again?”

Though you know without doubt that would be an absolutely delectable option, you decide you want to do something for him now.

“I want to be good for you, Master. I want to sit on you, wanna ride you so bad.”

His eyes widen and that signature grin spreads across his face.

“Well, what my pet wants, my pet gets, doesn’t she?”

He slowly pulls out of you and releases your wrists, and in an attempt to conceal his excitement, languidly moves up the bed to lounge on a pile of collected red and black, silk and fur pillows. Abs tensed, knees spread wide and slightly bent, cock in hand and giving every appearance of being cocky and arrogant, he’s the perfect vision of a commanding demon. He’s sitting like he’s on a throne, like he deserves this. It drives you wild.

He lazily tugs at himself as he watches you crawl up the bed towards him, though he furrows his brow slightly as you pause halfway to sit on your heels, knees wide apart, displaying yourself for him.

“What’re you doing, my pet?”

You start touching yourself, parting your folds and sinking a finger easily into your dripping cunt, your free hand coming to massage one nipple.

His eyes widen and his mouth opens slightly, and you see his grip on his dick get tighter. You know he loves to watch.

You mumble, as innocently as you can,

“I couldn’t wait, Master.”

He watches for a few moments, entranced, but then remembers what’s on offer and points to his lap, raising his voice a little, aggressively muttering,

“Get up here, minion. Obey your Master!”

His domineering tone sends tingles up your spine and to your core, and you instantly comply, clambering the rest of the way up the bed and straddling his hips.

He holds his cock steady underneath you, running it over your slit, the wet noises exciting you even more.

You place your hands onto his shoulders, stabilising yourself. You take another moment to admire his outfit and presence, holding his gaze before starting to sink down onto him.

As you seat yourself into him fully, that delicious stretch and feeling of fullness returns. You take a moment to enjoy it, before starting to move, lifting up, slowly at first and not too far, before lowering yourself back down. He’s at a fantastic angle, and feeling him so far inside you is intense. You whine out,

“Fuck, Master, you’re so deep…”

He bends his legs behind you and plants both feet on the bed, encouraging you to prop yourself against them. He knows you love to lean back, giving him not only a delicious new angle but also an exquisite view of your tits jiggling as you move, and it also gives him purchase to occasionally buck his hips and slam into you from below.

He’s full-on panting again, and, huffing, he breathes out,

“That’s my good little pet, fucking me so well. You gonna make us both cum, my sweet little thing?”

Wanting to do a good job, you use your thighs to bounce up and down on him, his cock hitting that spot inside you and rocketing you towards yet another high. He’s grabbing at your tits, your ass, your hips, anywhere he can reach, grumbling and growling and clearly desperate to feel every inch of you.

His pelvis is hitting your clit in just the right way, but you need more, and you grab one of his hands and bring it to your front. He immediately begins rubbing his thumb against your clit, and you start to whimper, already close. Before you lose the power of speech he asks,

“Do you trust your Master, baby? Gonna let me try something?”

You trust him implicitly and, although you have no idea what he has in mind, you nod. He moves one hand to your sacrum, stabilising you. The other thumb continues circling your clit, but he pushes the flat of that hand against your belly, like he sometimes does when he wants to feel himself inside of you, except this time there’s more pressure.

You’re rolling your hips against him now, all the different sensations combining to bring you closer to your release. You can hear him panting too, feel him tensing, and you know he’s not far off either. But there seems to be a different kind of pressure building in your abdomen.

You try to say something, but full sentences won’t come out. All you can manage is parts of words, like, “Wait-, no-, someth-, it’s diff-, oh fu-“

Unable to control anything anymore, your release washes over you in a searing wave, but there’s something else too - you feel a hot, wet gush coming from you and soaking his hand, wrist and abdomen.

Unable to process what’s just happened, you simply look at him, open-mouthed but still euphoric.

That’s it for him, he can’t hold off anymore and his release hits him, hard. He pulls your hips down onto him at the same time he slams up into you, face slack and breathing ragged, and you feel his hot, sweet release paint your insides, simultaneously letting out a long, low, broken groan.

Unable to process anything else, his eyes close and his head drops back against the headboard. You get another glimpse of that delicious neck, and run your hands over it and his collarbones as he comes down. He always looks so beautiful like this.

You both need a moment to let your heart rate and breathing come back to some semblance of normal. Evaporating sweat leaves you both with delicate goosebumps on some of your exposed skin, but the change in temperature is welcome.

You’re the first to speak as you look down at his wet belly and ask,

“Uh, Joe. What the fuck was that?”

His face turns slightly pink as, voice back to normal, he bashfully admits,

“I, um, just wanted to see if I could make you squirt, that’s all.”

He looks a little sheepish as he continues, slightly concerned,

“Was it ok? I mean, did you hate it?”

“God no, it felt… amazing! Just, y’know, maybe warn me next time?”

“Of course my sweet. Anything for my baby.”

He plants some wet kisses across your cheeks.

As if wanting to illustrate how much he enjoyed it, he brings his wet hand up to his mouth, sucks his fingers, and slowly shakes his head in delight as he adds,

“Mmm-mm, it was really fucking hot though!”

You slap his chest playfully, rolling off him to settle in the crook of his arm, your head against his chest, running a hand up and down it.

Ever the considerate lover, after a few moments he inquires,

“How was it overall, baby? Did you enjoy it?”

Full of endorphins and the love of your man, you gush,

“Fuck yes, Joe, it was incredible.” As you toy with some of the ends of the wig, you add, “Thank you so much for doing this for me. For us.”

He replies, “Oh love, it was, and I mean this quite literally, my absolute pleasure. I’m such a fucking lucky bastard.”

You both giggle a little at this. Joe delicately removes the horns and wig, laying them reverently on your bedside table so as not to tangle or damage them, another testament to his devotion to his craft, and you snuggle into each other, continuing to murmur sweet nothings and enjoying the afterglow.

After a few minutes Joe admits, “Sorry, I’ve got to take these bloody things out babe, they’re really sodding uncomfortable.”

You both laugh again, as he rises from your shared bed and makes his way to the bathroom to remove the contacts, returning with a warm washcloth, which you take gratefully. As you clean up he picks up the horns, examining them and twisting his fingers around what you now see is a sturdy headband.

He takes the washcloth from you, returning it to the bathroom. As he comes to sit by you on the bed once more, you spy a small smirk on his lips. You know that look, devious yet playful. He’s got some kind of plan.

“What is it, my treasure?”, you goad, using your fingertips to gently tickle his happy trail and tease at his exposed belly.

He replies,

“I was just thinking, maybe next time, you could wear the horns…?”

Thanks so much for reading!

Comments and reblogs make my world spin, please let me know what you think!

[shares-a-vest]

💖 Fic Writing Review 2023 💖

I was tagged by @penny00dreadful @rocknrollsalad @cranberrymoons and @unclewaynemunson Thanks everyone! You all smashed it in 2023. Here's to more words wording and fun fandom times with our faves.

Tbh, it took me a good month minute to work out how to do this, seeing as I don't post much to ao3 (something I intend on mending in 2024). I'm very much going with the 'feel free to show whatever stats you like' aspect of the rules.

But before all that, I'd like to use this post as an opportunity to acknowledge everyone who enjoys my writing. I kinda just fell into writing in this fandom and discovered that I love it!

I'm also sending love and appreciation to my beloved moots and everyone in the stwg discord server. Here's to another year of creating, sharing and interacting 💖

This fandom really is my happy place a lot of the time, a much-needed creative outlet and a space where I can talk to people who let me be my silly little old self.

I have so much I want to write in 2024 (including some in-the-works stuff listed below). One goal I know I have in 2024 is to write what I'll temporarily title, 'The Origin of Joanie Munson'. I would really like to knuckle down and write a looonnnggg fic this year that would tell that story.

Anyway, enough of me talking, I'll stop before I get too sappy...

Top 5 Posts by Notes:

Wayne and Claudia to Steve's Rescue

I'm Dating Garfield

My Prince

Eddie gets stuck in Steve's shower after the power goes off

Eddie Munson: Sparkly Vampire Boyfriend

Proudest Work & Reflections:

Wayne and Steve get hearing aids: This post was very much inspired by my pop's ongoing struggle with his hearing aids. HoH Steve is a beloved headcanon of mine so I was happy to receive so much love for a little ficlet that came from a very real place.

Steve spends Father's Day with the Buckleys: If there's one Steve trope I will write, it's Steve Has Bad Parents™. I always find myself writing this trope and getting Steve all sad and angsty as a personal coping mechanism/outlet for irl Dad Stuff™. I was a pile of goo over the tags and comments saying this ficlet resonated with readers! We really are just out here projecting onto our blorbos to get through shit.

Joanie Munson's First Word: I love my Joanie Munson AU. And one thing I love writing into it is Wayne being a doting Grandpa. It was a WIP for quite a while and I remember waking up at like 3am, unable to sleep and bam I finished it, proving that sometimes it's worth letting something linger in the drafts until the moment strikes.

My Fandom Events in 2023 (I did a sprinkling of others, but these I completed/worked on consistently):

Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge SPRING and SUMMER

Steddie Week 2023

Steddiemas

Upcoming Works & Events (aka, next in the pipeline):

Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge WINTER

Clarkson Mixtape Fic

STWG Hozier Project

Tagging some precious moots (plus those above) to send my love and good New Year vibes to! @thefreakandthehair @tboyeddie @steventhusiast @imfinereallyy @hbyrde36 @spicysix @momotonescreaming @withacapitalp @farahsamboolents @hellion-child @sidekick-hero (also feel free to do this tag game too if you'd like/haven't already!)

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

[bitchysunflower]

part 1 / part 2

Part 3 of “I’ve been texting my friend for about a week now and they don’t reply but turns out i was texting a random person and there was some deep personal stuff i sent oh my god why are they calling me now?” AU

this is just little snippets of this au! there’s not laid out timeline so… enjoy!! :D some may or may not be real texts i’ve send my friends oopsie (steddie are dating yes)

———

[eddie is typing…]

eddie: went to sleep at 10:30pm yesterday and i’m still fucking sleepy today

steve: yeah messing up sleeping schedules does that to ya

eddie: i slept more than enough to fix that

steve: actually not necessarily, remember that day I slept from 6pm to 7am

steve: I was so tired the entire day after that

eddie: stop making sense pls i don’t like it

•••

[steve is typing…]

steve: can you text me “Hey Steve, just wanted to let you know I tested positive for covid. You should probably get tested.”

eddie: Hey, just wanted to let you know I tested positive for covid. you should get tested too

steve: Hey, thank you. Hope you feel better!

eddie: wtf was that for??

steve: i just didn’t want to go to work

•••

[steve is typing…]

steve: i like being bisexual but i do not like being mentally ill

eddie: dude it’s 3am

eddie: …but same

•••

[incoming call from steve]

steve: dude this weather is killing me

steve: i have another headache

eddie: dude you need a neurological test…

steve: that’s mean…

eddie: …like there is no way there isnt something wrong with the amounts of headaches you get

eddie: wait, how is that mean??

steve: i tried making a joke, don’t worry about it

eddie: …

steve: to be fair is probably because of the multiple concussions i’ve had in high school

eddie: MULTIPLE????

•••

[steve is typing…]

steve: my throat is killing

eddie: your fault for screaming so loud last night

steve: that was your damn fault, you rascal

eddie: not my fault i’m so good

steve: YOU WERE CHEATING

steve: NO ONE BEATS ME AT MARIO KART

steve: NO ONE

•••

[eddie is typing…]

eddie: you’re so cute and adorable when your nice to me

steve: what am I when I’m mad?

eddie: hot as fuck

•••

[steve is typing…]

steve: you’re a nerd

eddie: and you’re a loser

steve: geek

eddie: dork

steve: mine

eddie: that was so smooth, lord

•••

[eddie is typing…]

eddie: can you bring my notebook when you come back?

eddie: and a snack

eddie: like an actual snack, that wasn’t code for dick

steve: damnit

•••

[incoming call from eddie]

eddie: oh my god i’m dating you

eddie: you’re mine

eddie: holy shit

eddie: wowwww

steve: are you high?

eddie: very

steve: i love you

•••

[steve is typing…]

steve: that’s it, i’m done

steve: i’m selling dustin on ebay

eddie: don’t be silly, he’s your kid you made him

eddie: sell him on etsy!

•••

[steve is typing…]

steve: k

eddie: k

eddie: idc how much we argue you’re always gonna be my baby

eddie: keep the attitude i can handle it

———

this was so fun to write lol

tags: @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @estrellami-1 @wrenisflying @ilikechocolatemilkh @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @mightbeasleep @gregre369 @bookbinderbitch @stevesbipanic

[badcaseofcasey]

climb the wires to your landline

Happy Halloween, Steddie fans! I got this slightly spooky idea since learning about the wind phone in Japan, and it's been rattling around in my head ever since. I decided to sit down and write a snippet just in time for Halloween, because what better time to share it with you all? I do picture this turning into a bigger story eventually, but for now, enjoy!

݁ ˖𖥔🎃𖥔˖ ݁

The phone thing had started as sort of a joke.

One of the fault lines that sent cracks running through Hawkins ran right past a payphone, and even though everything around it had been sucked into the crater or at the very least damaged by the “earthquake,” the payphone itself was completely untouched.

It stood out against its crumbling surroundings, remarkable in how normal it looked, like nothing had happened at all.

Some dumb teenagers started telling stories about the phone, that it had survived because it was connected to the occult. That even though most of the phone lines around it had been downed, you could still hear a dial tone if you picked it up. You had to be careful though, they said, because you could accidentally summon a demon from the crater if you weren’t careful.

Steve and Robin would often pass the phone on their way too and from volunteering, and Robin would always get visibly nervous. It took Steve a while to notice the pattern, but she would purposefully avoid looking out the window as they drove by the payphone. It didn’t take long for him to start teasing her about it.

“You can’t really believe those ghost stories,” Steve said. “Not after all the things we’ve seen.”

“That’s exactly why I believe it,” Robin said. “What if that’s Vecna’s way of identifying his next victims? We both know he’s still out there. And with the school temporarily shut down, there’s no more guidance counselor to feed him innocent souls.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You think Vecna is using some random payphone to target people?”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s ridiculous! A bunch of teenagers made up the story to freak each other out. That’s all.”

“A lot of what we’ve been through in the past year sounds like something teenagers would make up to freak each other out,” Robin argued. “And look how that turned out.”

“Okay, you know what?”

Steve pulled into a driveway to turn around. Volunteering could wait a few minutes.

“Steve, what are you doing?” Robin asked, voice panicky. “I’m going back to the payphone,” he said, driving back the way they came. “ And I’m going to prove to you that it is just a normal payphone that probably doesn’t even work anymore.”

“Steve, don’t you dare.”

Steve parked the car as close to the payphone as he could get and unbuckled. “I’ll be fine, Robbie.”

“Well, if we both know you’ll be fine, then there’s no point in you even doing it, is there?” Robin said, her voice higher pitched like it got when she was anxious.

“You wait here,” Steve said.

He jogged over to the phone, dodging pieces of ripped up asphalt and small cracks in the pavement.

The payphone really did just look like a normal phone. There was even a phonebook still hanging limply from the booth, pages worn after years of use.

Right before his hand touched the receiver, Steve paused. Could Robin be right? Was there any truth to the rumors? He shook his head, deciding he was being silly, and picked up the receiver and brought it up to his ear.

As he thought, there was nothing, not even a dial tone. He looked up to where Robin was practically on top of the dashboard, watching him anxiously. He waved jovially and gestured at the phone as if to say, see? Normal phone.

He had just pulled the phone away from his ear when he heard it. He paused slightly, but hung up the phone like nothing had happened, not wanting to freak out Robin. But as he jogged back to the car and drove away, all the while ignoring Robin’s relieved scolding, he couldn’t help but replay the sound over and over in his head.

It wasn’t a dial tone; it wasn’t a demon from a different plane - at least, he didn’t think. And really, it could have just been his ears tricking him. He might’ve heard Robin from the car and thought it was coming from the phone. Or he could have imagined the whole thing.

But he could have sworn, if only for a second, he’d heard a distinct voice calling his name.

“Steve?”

[steddieas-shegoes]

I don’t want this to come across as like me being overconfident lmao but like

If something I write or a headcanon I post inspires you at all even slightly to add to it or do your own thing

PLEASE DO IT PLEASE WRITE IT PLEASE ADD TO IT PLEASE TELL ME PLEASE SEND IT TO ME

For one I’m always desperate to see or read anything steddie and for two that is one of the biggest compliments I think anyone who does anything original on this stupid hell site could possibly ever get

I still don’t know how you guys got here or why you guys even enjoy the silly little things I post but I am trying to push away all my confidence issues (ahahahahahaha) and just be a little bolder and this is one way to do that

[terrifyingly-bi]

Can’t Make an Omelette Without Breaking a Few Legs (Eddie & Steve)

Fracture

Summary: 

Warnings: cursing, injuries, descriptions of injuries, 

Word Count: 812

A/N: We got Ronance so we gotta have some Steddie as well :3 Also, I am trying to get a mix of really angsty and kind of angsty things out. I don’t usually write this ‘consistently’ lmao

『••✎••』

The crack that echoed through the small clearing made both Steve and Eddie stop. 

Steve turned sharply and looked at his friend that lay crumpled on the ground, still, and seemingly just as shocked as him. “What the fuck was that?” he asked.

Eddie looked up at him, mouth agape and eyes wide. “That was my fucking leg,” he said.

“Your what?” Steve hadn’t realized how tense he was, nor how his shoulders had drawn up around his ears. “Did you just say that was your leg?” He tried to relax but he found himself stuck in place.

It felt silly, but the shock had Eddie frozen. He gulped as he tried to turn over to take a look, but the pain that surged up from his shin was enough confirmation. “Yeah,” he yelped. “That’s my leg. That’s my fucking leg.”

Finally, Steve was broken out of his state of in-action and hurried over to his friend and knelt down by his side. “What did you do?” he asked, helping Eddie turn over to sit up. 

“I don’t know!” Eddie said. He let out a string og colorful words when Steve pulled him off the ground to sit up. “Something got stuck on my leg. I don’t know!”

“Calm down, and let me have a look. It can’t be that bad,” Steve said, although cracks was hardly the sound you associated with a minor injury. He held his breath as he rolled up the pant leg to have a closer look. 

Eddie had his eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t want to see what his leg looked like. If it looked anything like what it felt like he knew it would be bad. “What’s the verdict?” he asked and winced when Steve’s fingers brushed over a particularly sensitive area.

Steve stayed quiet. It looked… not good. Eddie’s shin looked bruised and swollen, but the slight curve of the leg made it more than obvious that something was severaly wrong. “Legs… are not supposed to bend that way,” Steve said.

“What?” Eddie’s eyes shot open and he leaned over to look, crying out in pain when he put more weight than he should on his injury. “Shit!”

“Alright, um… just take it easy,” Steve said. “It’s going to be okay.”

Eddie gulped, trying to push the pain to the back of his mind. He’d always hated pain - mental and physical pain. He hated it so much that part of the sensation frightened him. He bit down onto his bottom lip, and forced himself to take a deep breath. “Is there… anything you can do?”

“I’m not about to snap it back into place, if that’s what you’re asking,” Steve said. “Um… No, yeah, uh… I think a professional needs to look at this. Don’t worry, I’ll get you there.” He tried to be supportive, reaching over and patting Eddie gently on the head. “Just… stay calm.”

“I’m trying,” Eddie mumbled. 

Steve nodded. Panic began to set in. He’d seen injuries before, but they had always followed a situation which had his adrenaline already pumping and his heart racing. Starting cold like this, left him slightly paralyzed by shock and without any adrenaline to help him think on his feet.

“Just breathe. It’s going to be okay.”

“Are you telling me or yourself?” Eddie asked.

The two looked at one another. Steve didn’t realize that he was trembling until he saw the glint of tears in the corners of Eddie’s eyes. He gulped and steadied himself. “Both, probably,” he admitted. “We’ll get you some help, okay?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, sure. Just… don’t leave me for the wolves, okay?”

“I don’t think there’s any wolves in Hawkins,” Steve said, not being able to hold back a chuckle. “Do you think you can stand?”

“Not without help,” Eddie said. 

“Well, obviously. You lean on me, come on,” Steve waved for Eddie to grab him. “Up we go.”

Eddie looked skeptic, but reached out and took both of Steve’s hands and pulled himself up. He yelped when Steve yanked him back up on his good foot and frantically reached out for something to keep him steady. He clutched Steve’s sweated, grabbing hold of his shoulder to keep himself upright. “Shit, that hurts,” he said.

Steve held him by his waist. “You’re okay, tough guy. Big breaths.” He felt more comfortable sliding into his caretaker-mode. He knew how to take care of others… well… kids at least. “You okay?”

“I don’t know what’s pissing me off more right now. My leg feeling as if it’s about to fall off, or you talking to be like I’m a baby,” Eddie muttered, glaring at Steve.

“Oh, let it go,” Steve said, adjusting them and sliding an arms under Eddie’s. “Let’s get you back to civilization before your legs fall off and attracts the wolves.”

“Screw you,” Eddie mumbled.

“You wish, Munson.”