#yeah poor eddie man... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steddiewithachance · 1 year

Text

"You Should Date My Nephew"

"433-6296". Wayne mouthes to himself. He visualizes the little slip of lined paper that's taped to the wall above their phone at home. 433-6296. He could call. But he wont.

Wayne grunts as he lowers himself to sit on the curb outside the plant. He got off work --he pushes up the sleeve of his jacket to check his watch-- 36 minutes ago. It's 3:36 am and god dammit Eddie how many times did he remind the kid to set his alarm. How many times did Wayne remind Eddie that his truck was in the shop and that he'd need a ride home in the morning. And every single time he'd mention it, Eddie responded "I got it old man! I'll set an alarm" with an exasperated eye roll and would go back to whatever he was doing. Wayne has tried calling the trailer a dozen times already and damn that boy for being such a heavy sleeper.

433-6296. Wayne could probably solve his problem with a single call, but that would be completely inconsiderate and borderline inappropriate, so he wont. A gust of cold November wind hits Wayne unforgivingly in the face and makes his eyes water. He pulls a pack of camels from his chest pocket and with stiff, shaky hands, lights one. 433-6296. He could call or he could walk home. The walk wasn't easy in ideal weather when Wayne was fully rested. Right now it was freezing, Wayne didn't have his good jacket, and he just finished an eight hour shift. 433-6296. Fuck it.

Wayne stands up and hurries toward the phone before he can talk himself out of this. It's insane, and he knows the poor kid barely sleeps as it is. Knows from Eddie that he'll pick up the phone anytime Eddie has a nightmare and drive over to talk him out of the bad dream, keep him company, or fall asleep on the floor of Eddie's bedroom so his nephew doesn't have to go back to sleep alone in a haunted home. 433-6296 Wayne dials and waits with baited breath.

The phone rings a handful of times before a quiet voice greets him on the other side of the line.

"H'llo? Eds?"

"Uh hi Steve. It's Wayne?" Wayne says quietly into the phone. Steve seems to sober immediately.

"Mr. Munson? Is everything okay? Is Eddie okay?"

"Yeah no everythin's fine. I'm sure Eddie's safe and sound at home. Look, I'm real sorry to wake you, kid, and I'm sorry to even be askin' you in the first place. I know it's mighty unfair of me to call at this time but uh- My trucks in the shop and Eddie was supposed to pick me up from work forty minutes ago but I think he mighta slept through his alarm. And it's too far for an old man like me to walk. Was wondering if I might owe you a helluva favor if you could pick me up tonight, son." For a few moments there is silence. Wayne worries he has crossed a line, for a brief moment he fears he might have burnt the most important bridge in Eddie's life. He's immediately regretting waking Steve up for this.

But then he hears the distinct rustling and thump of someone putting on shoes.

"Of course Mr. Munson, I'm leaving now. I'll be there as soon as I can." And Wayne is once again floored by this kid's kindness.

"Steve, thank you. I owe you son. Whatever you need."

"It's no problem! I'll see you soon."

"See you." Wayne mutters in disbelief and hangs up the phone.

And to think... Wayne used to hate Steve. The thing about Steve Harrington is that his name is haunted, in a way. And the thing about Wayne Munson is that he's a stubborn son of a bitch who will hold grudges on Eddie's behalf longer than the kid himself will. There were countless days in high school when instead of shooting through the front door of the trailer after school with a devilish grin and music blasting from his headphones, Eddie would turn the knob slowly and he'd drag himself into the house, giving Wayne a small nod before disappearing into his room quietly. Wayne felt like crying or punching something when Eddie came home in low spirits. He knew how evil the kids at school could be, and he knew the names of all the bad ones. Wayne always gave Eddie 10 minutes of quiet before he'd knock on his door and gently ask if he wanted to talk. It was a routine they had. He'd ask and Eddie would say no. But then like clockwork, Eddie would open up about his day later in the evening usually while they ate dinner and before Wayne left for work. He'd complain about all the kids that made him feel bad: Hagan, Harrington, Perkins, Hargrove, Carver, and so many more.

So imagine Wayne's surprise on March 27, 1986 when he briefly left Eddie's hospital room to get coffee and returned to Steve Harrington, the bully son of Richard and Nicole, sitting next to his nephew's hospital bed. It had been a long week of worrying on Wayne's part, and an emotional 48 hours spent at Eddie's bedside, so Wayne had very little patience for whatever was happening in front of him. In retrospect, Steve Harrington was looking at Eddie... sweet and tenderly, even back then. But in the moment all he could think about was Eddie returning from school with hunched shoulders and his head hung low.

"The hell are you doing here?" Wayne asked using his gruffest and most intimidating voice, arms crossed, standing in the doorway. The way that Steve startled was like nothing like Wayne had ever seen. He jumped a foot into the air and folded into himself.

"Oh! Mr. Munson. I'm sorry I didn't know you were around. Just, uh, didn't want him to be alone in case he woke up." Steve had said rising from his seat. When Wayne didn't budge from the doorway or respond, Steve nervously fiddled with the zipper of his jacket.

"How do you know Eddie?" Wayne asked trying to keep his firm tone.

"From high school sir. But also through a mutual friend. Dustin Henderson? They play DND together. Dustin and I brought him in after we found him like this..." Steve lifted his head again gauging Wayne's still stern expression and sighed. "Look, I'm sorry sir I didn't mean to interrupt anything I'll get out of your hair."

And Wayne wanted to be skeptical of Steve, wanted to accuse him of doing this to Eddie, but the truth is that Steve sounded painfully earnest. And there's no human explanation for the tiny bite marks all over Eddie's body. Wayne stepped out of the doorway and let Steve take a few steps down the hallway before calling out to him.

"Hey, Harrington?" Steve turned around quickly, looking back with a startled expression, maybe surprised that Wayne knew his name at all. "D'ja see what happened? I mean d'ya know anythin about what hurt him?" Wayne asked more softly. Steve looked around the crowded hallway, with nurses buzzing from door to door. Steve shook his head slightly, apologized, and continued down the hallway.

But Steve didn't stay out of his hair for long. The kid was exasperatingly persistent in being around for Eddie. And while Wayne kept a watchful eye on him, he was starting to get the idea that Steve Harrington was not who Wayne thought he was. He cooked for, cleaned after, and tended to Eddie, asking for nothing in return. Often refusing to stay for dinner when Wayne was home, even if he was the one who cooked it, because he didn't want to interrupt family time. If he brought food from out he always brought something for Wayne, and never took the money Wayne tried to push into his hands for it.

"Here, Mr. Munson. I wasn't sure what you wanted from the diner, but Eddie said you're not picky so I brought you a burger and fries." Steve had said that first time, holding out a bag in front of him.

"You brought me food?" Wayne asked perplexed.

"Well yeah, of course. I wouldn't have shown up with dinner for just me and Eddie." Steve set Wayne's bag on the counter when he made no move to take it.

By now Steve knew Wayne and Eddie's order at pretty much every food place in Hawkins and Wayne and Eddie were getting real creative at finding ways to slip money into Steve's wallet.

On top of that, almost every other day, Wayne gets home from work to find a maroon bmw parked outside his place while Steve helps Eddie through bad dreams. So what could Wayne be, besides grateful, for Steve Harrington's slightly confusing devotion to his kid?

He's snapped out of his thoughts when said maroon bmw pulls up in front of him. Steve is wearing a pair of wired glasses and his hair is all ruffled from sleep. Wayne opens the passenger door.

"You were waiting for forty minutes in the cold? Why didn't you call sooner?" Steve asked pushing up his glasses as Wayne closes the door quickly. And well... Wayne doesn't know how to respond to that.

"I- I shouldn'ta had to call you in the first place, Steve. I'm real sorry" Wayne says as Steve pulls the car out of park and starts driving back towards the trailer park. Wayne glances over at Steve waiting for the kid to say something. They sit in heavy silence until Steve breaks it by clearing his throat.

"Just... I know you're probably mad at Eddie but- but don't yell at him. He's barely sleeping so he really just needs the rest. It's not his fault." Steve ends on a whisper.

A tidal wave of different emotions rip through Wayne. Affection for Steve's caring nature, immense gratitude that Eddie has someone like Steve in his life, disbelief that Steve would say something like that after being woken at nearly 4 in the morning. Wayne was sitting and staring at the most selfless kid he'd ever met. Steve fucking Harrington.

"You should date my nephew."

Steves eyes widen and the car swerves.

"Uh- s-sorry- what?" Steve stammers.

"If I could choose someone for him, the best option out there, I'd choose you." Wayne says honestly, and he didn't even know he'd been thinking it until this moment. But it's so true. After so many heartbreaks over truly terrible men that Wayne could never see the appeal of, Eddie deserves someone like Steve. Steve face softens before checking to make sure Wayne was being sincere. Steve cracks a smile and chuckles to himself.

"What, you think I'm jokin'?" Wayne asks defensively.

"No sir! Not at all. It's just Eddie and I have been dating for months already. BUT- but- thank you for saying that! It means so much to me and truly Eddie's the best thing-"

"You- what?" Suddenly Wayne is embarrassed. Blushing. How'd he... how'd he miss that? And well, he did have a few moments where he thought the two of them were awfully close for a pair of young men, at least one of which who was openly queer, but they'd been through a lot together.

"Why did no one tell me?" Wayne asks turning his face away from Steve who is desperately fighting a huge grin and losing.

"We thought you knew. We sleep in the same bed every night."

"You do what now? Thought you were sleepin' on the floor" Wayne knows he sounds like the protective dad of a teenage girl and not the uncle to an adult man, but his world was just turned sideways. Steve laughs at that and adjusts his glasses before stopping at the red traffic light which almost immediately turns green because no one is out at this hour.

"Oh well. Good, I'm glad then." Wayne says after his mind has stopped spinning. "And call me Wayne already, you basically live at my house." He punches Steve lightly in the shoulder.

"Okay." Steve agrees quietly. He pulls into Forest Hills and stops the car in front of the Munson's place. "Mind if I just check to make sure he's okay before I leave? For peace of mind?" Wayne opens the door and steps out.

"Oh so now you're playing coy about sharing a bed? Just sleep here, kid" Wayne closes the door and heads towards the house. Steve jogs a little to catch up. When they open the door, the sound of an obnoxious alarm comes pouring out from the back of the house which concerns both of them. But when Steve hurries to Eddie's room he sees that the idiot had fallen asleep with music blasting in his headphones. Wayne stops the alarm as Steve gently tries to remove the headphones from his ears pausing the tape inside.

Eddie suddenly stirs and blinks up at Wayne and Steve looking down at him.

"'S going on?" He croaks, rubbing his eyes. Wayne and Steve share a look before Wayne chuckles and pats Steve on the back once before thanking him and wishing him a good night on the way out. After the door closes behind Wayne, Eddie looks back up at Steve. "What's going on baby? What happened?"

Steve slips into the bed and scoffs, fondly. He curls around Eddie and pulls him into his chest. Once they've settled, Steve pushes his fingers through Eddie's until they're all intertwined.

"Did you forget something, Bambi? Was there someone you had to pick up from work at 3 in the morning?" Steve whispers into his neck. Suddenly Eddie shoots up and dislodges Steve where he was leaning against him. Steve groans.

"Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit"

"Eddie it's okay c'mere. He's home now, it's all good babe." But Eddie just stares at the wall and pulls a hand through his hair. "No one is mad, just come back here. Let's sleep." And Eddie hesitantly lies back down.

"Did Uncle Wayne have to call you? I'm so fucking sorry Stevie." Eddie asks, sounding embarrassed.

"We had a nice conversation on the way home so it all worked out. You're okay. Sleeeeep."

And right before they both fall asleep, Eddie whispers, "Thanks Stevie, love you."

#steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steddie #eddie munson #wayne munson #Wayne Munson POV #steve/eddie

8K notes · View notes

imjust-that-shy · 1 year

Text

I want a fic where Steve and Robin are having their heart to heart in the Starcourt bathroom, Robin raving about Tammy Thompson and Steve admitting 'yeah, she's cute and all. But have you seen Eddie Munson?? Rings man, rings and tattoos.'

Robin and Steve solidifying their Platonic Soulmate status, and poor Eddie Munson camped in one of the stalls since they burst in wondering what the fuck was that about Russians? Wait did KING STEVE just say he thought Eddie was cute??

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley

5K notes · View notes

gas-station-trackphone · 8 months

Text

ftm trans Eddie Munson gets turned into a chew toy for hell bats and rescued in the 11th hour by his friends who don't know he's trans, who have to run some triage first aid and can hardly make sense of the blood and gore that used to be his body as they cut off his shirt and pants to get access to the worst of the wounds, who definitely aren't in their right minds well enough anyway to think of anything other than stopping the bleeding and getting him to a hospital, which they do, and miraculously Eddie finds himself blinking awake in a bright, fluorescent room feeling exactly like he imagines a chew toy for hell bats would feel in the aftermath which is to say: like shit. Even more miraculously, he finds hometown hero Steve Harrington posted up at his bedside with greasy hair (!!! Eddie never thought he'd see the day) and bags under his eyes.

The overwhelming relief on Steve's face when he sees Eddie is awake is touching, the misty eyes and cracking voice when he says god, i thought you were toast, man are downright flattering and, let's face it, giving Eddie all the wrong ideas that he figures he has an I-almost-died pass for at the moment so he rocks with it, let's himself indulge in the fantasy for a moment. Then, gradually, Steve's relief becomes more and more obviously some brand of deeply felt pity (or sympathy, but Eddie's never been good at distinguishing the two), which bursts his bubble enough to call him out.

"I know I look like what comes out the business end of a meat grinder, but I swear I'm good, dude. They definitely have me on the good shit, I hardly feel it. I'll be good as new in no time." Big fat fucking lie, by the way, but he'll say whatever if it gets that wounded puppy look out of Harrington's eyes.

"I...yeah, Eddie, I'm glad." And whatever it is he doesn't want to say, whatever is putting that you poor motherfucker look on his face, he's absolutely the opposite of subtle about it.

Eddie can hear the manifestation of his panic on the heart monitor.

"What? What is it? Is everyone- is Dustin-?" He can't say it, can't even think it, would rather be slowly torn to shreds all over again than know he failed at his one fucking task to keep the kid safe.

"No! I mean, yes, he's fine, they're all fine. Henderson's got a broken ankle and both of Max's arms are broken but the docs say they'll be fine in a few months with physical therapy."

The release of tension in Eddie's body hurts almost as much as the relief soothes him. "Okay then, what the fuck are you not telling me? It's fine, I'm a big boy, Harrington, I can take it."

He sighs, looking sick with it. "Eds...I don't know how to tell you this."

Oh god, what the fuck. Eddie's right back to freaking out because Steve looks inexplicably guilty, pained in the face like he's about to deliver the worst news he could imagine but if everyone's fine then-

"It's your dick, man. It's- it's gone. The bats-"

And Eddie laughs so hard he tears about a dozen stitches, immediately stops laughing, and throws up over the side of the bed and thankfully not all over his freshly reopened wounds as Steve shouts for help.

Eventually, when he's all stitched up again and barely hanging on to his hard earned lesson to not literally bust his gut laughing about the look on Steve's face (he has to force himself not to tell Wayne the specifics of how he ended up back in the OR, because he's absolutely gonna crack up and Eddie will definitely be unable to help himself from laughing with him), he realizes he's going to come out to all his friends in the very near future because holy shit, he has to tell everyone about Steve's utterly devastated expression at the news of Eddie's Ken doll-ification by way of demobat.

#I've been laughing about this in my head for WEEKS #the idea that steve feels so bad eddie got his dick eaten by demobats that he literally can't hide it and tells him immediately kills me #as always please read into the gay subtext here bc yes eddie also tells this story at their wedding many years down the line #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie

2K notes · View notes

roanniom · 1 year

Note

mechanic eddie is so hot that id break my car on purpose to see him

The Tune-Up

Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, unprotected sex / PIV sex / semi-public sex, dry humping, really shitty and poorly research car mechanic details

So maybe you intentionally bought a clunker when your last car finally bit the dust. Maybe you found a perpetual lemon of a car that you positively knew would conk out on you every other week meaning you just happen to need to take it to the shop all the time. The shop with the hot mechanic who always has his greased up coveralls pulled down and tied around his waist, revealing the tattoos and muscle and sinew that you could look at for hours on end.

So what?

It's the fourth time this month that you have had to roll your hunk of junk into his garage, and you check your make up in the rear view mirror before hopping out, arranging your hand casually on your hip as you see him walking up, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Eddieeeee. It's making that clanking sound again," you call out in a sing-song voice. Eddie gives you a lopsided grin and sweeps his messy curls up into a ponytail, giving you the perfect view of his stretching pecs beneath his thin tank top.

"You know you don't have to keep abusing that poor car just to see me. You can just ask me out, sweetheart."

Your heartbeat leaps into your throat and your jaw trembles.

"I...that's...I..."

"I'm just messin' with you!" Eddie chuckles at your sudden speechlessness and grabs a wrench, kicking the creeper in front of him and flopping down on it to roll under your car on his back.

The moment he disappears you bite your lip to contain a groan. The man is just so fucking fine. You tilt your head to take in the flexing of his thighs - his lower half the only thing visible right now - under the material of his coveralls. Your appreciation is cut short, however, when he rolls out only a moment after.

“You’re staring, sweetheart,” he says with a cheeky grin, rolling back out from under your car but remaining on his back on the roller.

You look away abruptly at being caught.

“You know my car really does just suck and break and stuff,” you argue lamely in answer to his earlier question. Eddie barks out a laugh and rests his arms behind his head so he can relax there while staying reclined and looking up at you. It gives him a perfect vantage point up your skirt, but he keeps his eyes trained on your face.

“How do you know I don’t keep rigging it to break myself so you have to keep coming back here?” Eddie says in a lilting tease. Your gaze snaps back to him and he raises his eyebrows in a challenge. You feel your entire body come alive at the implication of his statement but try to calm your heart beat by remembering that he's always this flirty.

"Oh yeah? Angling for more chocolate chip cookies there, Munson?" you ask, referring to the fact that you'd brought him cookies as an additional tip during the last few tune ups. Eddie licks his lips and looks you up and down slowly in a way that has your stomach flipping. It's almost like he's considering something. His smile is large when it seems like he's made his decision.

"Angling for a kiss is more like it."

Blood rushes to your ears. If he said anything else, you wouldn't be able to hear it because suddenly you're feeling like you're going to pass out and your vision narrows to the point that he's the only thing you can see.

It's late in the day on a Friday and Eddie's the only one in the shop for closing. You know that. It's why you come on those days in particular, to ensure you get him all on your own. The garage door is open to an empty street that's far enough off the beaten path that you don't think any passersby will be ambling around anytime soon.

So you drop your bag, inhale sharply to hold your breath, and step forward so that you stand with your feet planted on either side of his stretched out legs. Eddie's smile widens with surprise that you've actually taken the bait, but his eyes widen even more when you drop down to straddle his lap.

He'd expected you, at most, to kneel down beside him and playfully peck his cheek. Worst case scenario you'd tell him off for his cheekiness.

But here you are, skirt fanned out around to obscure the fact that you are now pelvis to pelvis. You drop your hands to his chest, fisting fingers in his dirty tank top over the knot of his coverall arms tied at his waist.

"Do you want payment before services or after?" you ask, voice surprisingly steady in spite of the rush of nerves and excitement coursing through your veins. Eddie looks dumbfounded for only a split second before the cocky attitude is back. His hands find your thighs and grip you, holding you down against the most intimate part of him.

"How 'bout a down payment to start with?" he asks, sliding his hands up your hips and to your waist, most likely leaving the material smudged with grease. You don't care at all, of course. He could cover your whole body in grease if it meant you got to feel his hands on you everywhere.

So you lean down and bring your lips to his. Your initial intent is a quick peck. But after your mouths meet, Eddie's lips part to let out a sinful moan and suddenly one of his hands is cupping the back of your neck to keep you down on top of him. The peck becomes a kiss, and even that morphs into something a lot more dirty and a lot less dignified.

Not that there's anything dignified about straddling your mechanic in the first place.

"Wow. I never want another fucking chocolate chip cookie ever again," Eddie grunts against your neck once he's pulled away to give you a chance to breathe. You giggle but it turns into a moan as he proceeds to immediately suck a hickie into the skin of your throat.

"I'm glad this form of payment works - ah! Works for you!" you say breathlessly as he moves his lips up to drag and suck at the spot behind your ear. His hands grip your waist so tightly that you feel yourself sinking against him as snug as you can get, the pulse between your legs becoming more and more insistent.

"I'm sorry, but your cash is no longer any good here, baby," Eddie rumbles into your skin and all the laughter stops because in that moment you feel the heat emanating from yourself and from him and that is the exact second that you feel his hardness nudging against you.

You pull back to make eye contact, find him glassy eyed and kiss bitten and rumpled staring back up at you.

"Well I guess we can get that figured out when you finish the job," you whisper, experimentally swirling your hips. Eddie's feet plant more firmly on the floor to keep the motion from pushing the roller, and his now bent thighs create a slope that causes you to slide further down and into his crotch. You both groan collectively at the increased contact.

"I already finished actually. So we can discuss payment now," Eddie says, leaning up and capturing your lips again. You pull back a second later, however, when his words finally register.

"What do you mean you already finished?"

"I just had to tighten a bolt," Eddie says with a grin, lifting up the wrench he had abandoned at his side the moment you'd dropped down on him. Your eyes narrow and your heart skips a beat at the implication.

"How did you know that's all that needed to be done?"

Eddie's grin becomes sheepish, as you anticipated. He drops the wrench back on the ground and rubs the back of his neck.

"I might have....uh....left it a little loose after your last visit. Just to make sure you'd....you know. Brighten this shop up again soon."

You try your best to hide the massive smile threatening to burst out on your face. But you make sure to ask the first question on your mind.

"My car couldn't have, like, fallen apart on the highway or anything with that bolt loose could - ,"

"Oh fuck no!" Eddie cuts you off, gripping at your waist suddenly with how fervent he is in his need to assure you. "I would never have let you drive it if it was dangerous." He averts his eyes before looking back at you with humor sparkling in them. "Now did I want it to make a harmless loud noise so suspicious you had to come back in? Yes."

"Shame on you," you cry out without any malice behind the words at all. In fact, you're laughing and leaning down to kiss him again. Your eagerness causes you to rock up against him and before long, the two of you are back at it hot and heavy.

"Hey," Eddie says, attempting to pull back after a while. You, however, are the one to blaze a trail of kisses down his neck this time. He sucks in a breath and continues. "Hey. I get off in about a half an hour."

"Don't want to wait that long for you to get off. Want it to happen right now," you whisper in his ear before sucking his ear lobe into your mouth. Eddie's eyes roll so far back into his head at the action and the innuendo and you feel his hard cock positively jump against you.

"Can't do this while I'm working, baby," Eddie groans, though his hands actively contradict his words by gripping your hips and encouraging them to continue moving against him.

"Isn't my car the last one for the day?" you ask innocently. As if you aren't grinding your clothed pussy all over his erection out in the open in his place of business with the garage door open and the sun still out. "And you did such a good job fixing it."

"Holy fuck..." Eddie breathes. He had been the confident one. He had been the forward one. He's not sure when the dynamic shifted but dear fucking god he's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He does still try his best to at least attempt to be a gentleman, though.

"But I'll get you all dirty. Don't wanna ruin your pretty clothes." Eddie says this while biting his lip and sliding his hands down to squeeze at your ass. It makes you gasp and push down against him even harder, exactly as he'd hoped.

"I don't believe you," you breathe. Eddie captures your mouth in another kiss before shaking his head, distracted.

"What don't you believe?"

"I don't believe that you don't want to ruin my clothes. I think you want to get me all dirty," you challenge. Eddie lifts his hand to your face and holds your chin suddenly between his thumb and index finger, staring deeply into your eyes.

"You're a tease and I love it, sweetheart," he says with a chuckle that makes you preen. "But I need to know...what do you actually want right now?"

"You," you say, not even skipping a beat. Eddie's eyes become serious.

"How...how much of me are we talkin'?"

"All of it," you say, your grin spreading.

"Mother of fucking Christ," Eddie grits out before holding onto you tight and pushing off with his feet, rolling the two of you further behind his work bench, effectively shielding you from the outside world. You squeal at the sudden motion and cling to him, so he uses that to his advantage, attaching his lips to your pulse point. One particularly generous suck to your juggular has you keening and bucking down against him, much to his insane pleasure.

"Oh god. Eddie," you gasp. Eddie closes his eyes and furrows his brow.

"Yeah. Say my name again. Please." He attempts to soften the command with the nicety but you would have screamed his name for much less. You sit up more fully in his lap and help him untie the knotted arms of his coveralls, unzipping the last part of them and exposing the tented front of his boxers. He'd felt huge but he looks even bigger.

"Eddie," you whisper, making eye contact before rubbing your hand over his clothed length. His brow furrows even deeper and you could laugh but you don't. Just like you don't continue to tease him because you're teased out yourself. You need him inside you, like, yesterday. So you pull his boxers down and ogle the length and width of him. Everything you could want him to be.

"Can you...you wanna even the playing field here, sweetheart?" Eddie asks with a silly grin that knocks the wind out of you. You nod without even stopping to get too self conscious, swiftly unbuttoning your blouse and letting the two sides hang open, revealing your bra-clad breasts. Eddie groans like he'd been punched.

"You're a fucking goddess, are you fucking kidding me?" he says, as if you've personally offended him. You chuckle at that.

"I think the exhaust fumes in here have messed with your brain, Munson."

Eddie simply snaps the front clasp of your bra, releasing your breasts to that they fall out with a bounce. Eddie moans like a wounded animal.

"Exhaust fumes my ass. You are unbelievable." His hands immediately close around you, squeezing and weighing. "These tits are magnificent."

You scoff at his word choice.

"You're ridiculous," you try to dismiss him, but his fingers playing with your nipple makes it hard to concentrate on any emotion other than lust. You begin gyrating your hips in search of friction, the hood of your mound pressing up against his erection and creating much needed pressure, even through your clothes.

"No, you're ridiculous trying to pretend like you can wait for this dick," Eddie mocks you, noticing exactly what you're doing. You look at him, biting on the inside of your cheek.

"As if you aren't the one making me wait," you toss back. Eddie's eyebrows raise in a challenge.

"You're the one on top, princess."

You huff and immediately lift yourself up, dropping back down over him so that your skirt obscures his view. But Eddie doesn't need to see in order to feel the tightness of you lowering yourself down onto him.

"Holy fucking - ,"

"Shit!" you interrupt him with your own cry. While you're certainly turned on, it was absolutely absurd for you to try and fit him in without any preparation. Eddie is bigger than anyone you've been with before and he's instantly deeper than you knew was possible, thanks to gravity.

"Fuck, that too much, baby?" Eddie asks, immediately alert and clutching your hips, attempting to keep you balanced above him before your pelvises can meet fully. Fuuuck, he's not even all the way in!

"J-just.....oh god. You're just really big," you whimper. Eddie makes to pull you off him but you dig your fingernails into his arms. "No don't want to get off just - ah. I need a minute. Need to...oh."

You're entire body begins trembling when Eddie's finger begins rubbing circles into your clit. You shudder and then feel yourself sink down a little further on his cock. The attention to your sensitive clit has your thighs widening, your muscles relaxing and your pussy becoming wetter by the second.

"Relax. Mmmm there it is, good girl."

His words practically do more than the finger on your clit and you arch into him, rocking against him shallowly.

After another few minutes of these ministrations, you finally feel yourself growing impatient and increasingly turned on. Experimentally you lift up with your thigh, rising till only his tip is inside you, before sinking back down slowly. Your breath is punched out of you with a hiss, but another moment passes and soon you're able to do it again, faster this time. Eventually you work yourself up to a rhythm, bouncing yourself up and down his cock while his face screws up and his fingers dig into your thighs.

"Wanted this for a long time, princess," Eddie grunts out. "Every time you came in I imagined bending you over that hunk of junk you call a car and fucking you till you couldn't walk."

You gasp at his dirty admission and, feeling emboldened by his honesty, decide to be honest yourself.

"I always wanted you to take me in the backseat and fuck me," you whine. Eddie bucks up into you, the drastic motion causing you to both shift back and forth due to the rocking of the roller you're still precariously perched on.

"We're doing this again, you know," Eddie says matter-of-factly. You must look confused by his words because he continues on fervently. "I may have pictured you with this car, but I'm fucking you in a bed next time," he insists. "Okay maybe a kitchen counter if we can't make it to the bedroom, but either way you deserve a room with a closed door."

You laugh at his words, clenching internally and causing him to moan in the process. You're quickly brought back from humor to urgency when you feel his finger on your clit again.

"Yeah. Yeah we're doing this again," you practically hiccup.

Eddie pulls you down on top of him so that he can lick and nip at your neck, his hand still sandwiched between the two of you.

"Listen to the greedy girl. Already thinking of the next time I'll be inside her."

"You're the one who brought up the subject of a next time!" you accuse, but you lose your bite the second he bites into the side of your throat. He soothes the spot with a lave of his tongue.

"Cum on me, baby, and we can get to that next time sooner."

When you cum, only moments later, your cry echoes throughout the garage. The reverberating sound comes back to your ears and shocks you enough that you almost fall out of your ascending headspace, but Eddie's grunts in your ear and fingers digging into your skin block it all out and keep you grounded to him. This allows you to enjoy your orgasm and even benefit from aftershocks as he takes over and plows up into you, chasing his own release. His haphazard thrusts cause the two of you to roll back and forth on the roller. You cling to him to stay stable with all the movement, and your sudden tensing has you clenching around him so tight he has no time to warn you of his impending orgasm. He just calls out your name and drives his cock deep inside you, spilling out into with sputtering hips.

It takes a while for the proverbial dust to settle. Eddie's hand on your back is soothing, but you quickly realize that your thighs are over extended and your body aches from the strenuousness of your sexual activity.

"Easy there, princess," Eddie coos. He helps you up, his cock sliding out of you with the movement. Like a gentleman he slides your panties back over your dripping slit, patting the wet spot fondly, before dropping the hem of your skirt and shifting to guide you up.

You wobble on embarrassingly unstable legs.

"Jesus christ, what did you do to me?" you huff. Eddie encircles you in his arms and lets out a bark of a laugh.

"What did I do?! How is it that you never fully realized that you were on top?" he asks, echoing his previous sentiments. You help him pull his coveralls up to tie at his waist again and he graciously helps button you back into your blouse.

"Well next time I want you to do all the work," you respond cheekily. Eddie's eyes spring back to yours and for a moment you hesitate, wondering if his earlier words were simply born of the heat of the moment. But Eddie's looking at you like you hung the fucking mood and suddenly he's kissing you. Bold and ardently and with a lot of tongue that says everything he wishes to say to you simply with the press of wet muscle to wet muscle.

When he pulls away his lips are shiny and bruised and you're out of breath. He gives you a lopsided smile and scrunches his nose.

"Next time do I still have to fix your car, or -?"

You slap him on the chest and pull him back in for another kiss.

~*~

---

-----

-------

---------

-----------

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

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

Hoping tumblr doesn't cut off the actual end of the story!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things smut

6K notes · View notes

tiannasfanfic · 1 year

Text

Physical Affection

Eddie Munson x Reader (Fluff)

Summary: You aren’t a very physically affectionate person…until you are.

A/N: Gender neutral Reader, they/them pronouns used, no Y/N. Not proofread.

CW: None, just pure fluff.

You weren’t an affectionate person.

Well, that’s unfair to say. You could be, just on your own terms. All of your friends knew this and none of them minded, but those times when you were randomly affectionate, it always caught them off guard.

If you ruffle Dustin’s hair, for instance, it’ll suddenly make the otherwise chatty boy speechless. Fixing Steve’s shirt by tucking in the tag for him made the former ladies man blush. That time you helped Robin fix her smudged eyeliner left the poor girl stuttering.

While everyone noticed you were a little more affectionate with Eddie, that was to be expected since he was your partner. But, despite that, they couldn’t help but wonder how things were going with you two. By all appearances, everything seemed fine, but they knew Eddie was typically way more affectionate in relationships than this. He was always all over his partners, no matter if they were one night flings or serious relationships. But with you, he had scaled way back. The only time they’d ever seen you two be affectionate for longer than a brief moment were at parties when Eddie would keep one arm around you protectively at all times. You never seemed to mind though, leaning into his embrace to wedge yourself even closer to him.

It wasn’t until one night at The Hideout that they started figuring out you might be way more physically affectionate than they thought.

The guys were out having a Boys Night when you came rushing into the bar and directly over to their table. Everyone was concerned since Boys Night never gets interrupted unless it’s an emergency.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Eddie asked, jumping to his feet. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah, everything’s fine,” you said, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. “I just need you to give me a hug is all.”

Gareth, Grant and Jeff all froze in shock, then exchanged surprised glances.

Did they hear you just right? Did you seriously just ask for a hug? Surly they were hearing things. A combination of the drinks and loud music coming from the jukebox messing up what your words sounded like. That made way more sense than you asking for a hug.

But a warm smile came to Eddie’s face in response, and he stepped closer to you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. Your arms slipped around his waist as you buried your face into his chest, and you held onto him tightly.

The guys watched for several long moments, gawking as Eddie started to slowly run one hand up and down your back. He softly kissed the side of your head and they could hear him muttering something to you, but they couldn’t make out what. Your body just seemed to melt in his embrace, the tension in your shoulders visibly relaxing as you pressed yourself into the hug.

“What the-“ Gareth started to say, but the words died on his tongue at the glare Eddie’s suddenly shot at him.

Eventually, you pulled back from him just enough for the two of you to exchange a soft kiss.

“All better now, sweetheart?” they heard EddIe ask you.

“Kinda,” you said, nodding. “Do you think I could wait on you at the trailer?”

“Of course,” he replied, then kissed the end of your nose. “You have a key, my house is your house. Make yourself at home, I’ll be there here in a couple of hours.”

After sharing another tender kiss, you finally pulled yourself from Eddie’s arms. You gave the guys a wave and then left The Hideout.

The guys all stared at Eddie as he returned to his seat and took a drink of his beer.

“What?” he asked, finally noticing their looks.

“What the hell was that all about?” Jeff asked.

“Yeah, they never, ever ask to be touched,” Gareth said. “What gives?”

“Nothing,” Eddie said, then sat his bottle down to point at each of them. “And you’d all better just forget you ever saw that.”

The tone of his voice was serious, making them all blink.

“The shit?” Grant asked. “Why?”

“Why? I’ll tell you why,” Eddie leaned forward, a very serious look on his face. “They’ve started sitting on my lap and cuddling every time we’re watching a movie. Completely on their own!”

The guys stared at him in shock.

“Oh wow,” Gareth finally said. “That’s big.”

Eddie nodded rapidly, his curls flying.

“Yeah!” he said. “Huge! So if any of you meathead’s say anything to them and mess this up for me, I swear to God…”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble

3K notes · View notes

monty-glasses-roxy · 8 months

Note

Meteors Roxy doing “Is the animatronic video cute” sounds like such a fun idea tho

Thank you!

The rating system is super inconsistent. Sometimes she'll be super serious about what she can tell from experience is going on behind the scenes, and other times the video is decidedly NOT cute because it was of Monty on the day he beat her at staffbot bowls after closing. Sometimes it's rated cute purely because Roxy got attached to the little animatronic she helped Eddie repair a few weeks ago that was in it. Sometimes it's not cute because it's of her old self and she remembers how bad it was all too well, while sometimes it's cute purely because it's not a Fazbear animatronic.

She adds recommendations for better animatronic welfare almost every time though. She's immensely entertained watching people try to explain that animatronics aren't alive... To an animatronic that is very much alive. She likes messing with them a bit :)

Posts a video of herself one day (with Cassie's help) after she got publicly and privately threatened by Fazbear to shut the fuck up because she's in breach of every employment contract they've ever made and the response was amazing lmao she's THRIVING on this attention and ohhhh Fazbear socials have gone suspiciously quiet oooo such a mystery why that is

The real question here is how long until Eddie gets genuinely concerned with her poking the Fazbear and has to stage an intervention.

#meteors au #meteors roxy #I'm very tired right now but yeah dhjdnd she'd have so much fun with it #absolutely living on this attention #eddie watching her publicly call fazbear ent a fazfucking disaster and getting called to cease and disist like: social media was a mistake.#his poor heart man!!!#he's a worry wart and roxy gives him so many MORE fucking reasons to worry!!!#if she could just not do that for five minutes he would maybe know what a break is...#but alas. this is roxy.#menace to all things fazbear.#she gets bored or the socials after a while but god damn it she found something else to make him worry instead #give this poor man a break :(

2 notes · View notes

usedtobecooler · 2 months

Text

live now, think later | steve harrington x afab!reader

a/n: thank you so much in advance to everybody who takes the time to read, reblog and comment on this fic. it's the first thing i've published in close to three months and i'm honestly a little nervous, i hope i've come back with a big enough bang! title is taken from think later by tate mcrae, and a massive thank you to @trashmouth-richie for making my header+dividers for me. 7.8k words.

summary: upon your arrival in hawkins to visit your old friend, eddie munson, his first idea is to drag you down to family video — where you ‘unintentionally’ meet steve harrington. a well timed deal, a fake friend date and a few drinks later, you find yourself in steve’s downtown apartment with lowered inhibitions.

warnings: sexual content 18+ minors dni, piv sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, bratting, spit kink, biting, hair pulling, very poor use of the pull out method. alcohol consumption, mentions of drug dealing and public heavy petting. no use of y/n and very minimal description of reader. eddie munson being eddie munson.

Eddie is all but dragging you into Family Video by your hand, the harsh metal of his rings digging into the webbing of your fingers as he pulls you in through the door.

Eddie Munson was easily the most excitable person you’d ever met in your life, and his sudden enthusiasm to get you into the video store is going to land you in the emergency room, because if he tugs you any harder your shoulder will detach from the socket.

The buzzer above your head rings violently in an attempt to alert the staff that somebody has come in, and a mop of beautifully styled hair attached to an equally beautiful man comes into view as you edge closer to the rental counter.

"Hey, Stevie," Eddie grins, loud and unabashed, "you got that new one with Meg Ryan in it? Heard she cums at a dinner table and lady luck over here is desperate to see it."

He's sniggering as you pull away from him and smack at his arm hard enough that he lets out an indignant yelp. Your face is burning hot with embarrassment as the boy's eyes dart back and forth between you both, confusion etched on his face.

He - Stevie, apparently - raises an eyebrow at you both, taking in the disheveled and most likely chaotic scene in front of him, "You mean 'When Harry Met Sally'?"

"Majorly concerning you know what movie it is from the description of 'Meg Ryan cums at a dinner table'," you quip, mouth running away from you before you can even stop it. Your face somehow burns even hotter, Steve crossing his arms over his chest with a small smirk.

He's in a preppy little striped polo shirt under his green embroidered work vest, and god his arms are bulging. His skin is tanned golden, a product of the heat of an Indiana summer, freckles and beauty marks prominent on his face, trailing down his neck and dipping below the collar.

You stare for a beat too long. Taking in the man in front of you, who looks very sure of himself.

Eddie knows you all too well, Steve is absolutely your type, which makes your first encounter all the more mortifying.

"It's my job to know all the new releases, honey." Steve's smile grows smug, and it's breathtaking how attractive you find it, "You're both shit out of luck, it's been on rent all week. Romantic night in, is it?"

Eddie scoffs from beside you, and it takes everything in you to not be offended by how quickly the noise escapes him, "Yeah, she wishes. She's not my type at all, Harrington. Annoying, clingy, pisses too lo-"

"God, shut the fuck up," you're mortified, covering your face with your hands, "I've been in town less than a day, are you trying to get me ousted?"

Steve looks all too amused by the encounter, struggling to hold back a chuckle. His pretty eyes never leave you as he speaks, "Munson's deflecting, I already know you rejected him and he's taking it like a dagger to the heart."

Eddie points an accusatory finger, "Take it back, fucker. I've never been turned down in my life."

Steve quirks a brow at him, then turns his attention back to you. You squirm under his strong gaze, "Is that true, doll? I feel like he's lying."

"I'm not getting involved in this dick swinging contest," you hold your hands up, trying in vain to ignore the silly little pet name that really does it for you, backing away from the counter slightly, "what are we even here for, Eddie?"

"I was just making sure me and Stevie here were still on for drinks tonight." Eddie glances at Steve, who looks as confused as you feel, “You wanna join us?"

You shoot him an incredulous look, "This feels like a set up."

Eddie smirks, "Why's that? Can't three pals all go out for a drink together? I want my two best friends to get to know each other."

You narrow your eyes playfully, glancing at Steve who seems to have gotten with the program, all signs of confusion gone from his face, "I'm not sure I trust you." You huff, turning to Steve and nodding back at Eddie, "What if he's just setting us up so he can bail and I'm stuck with you all alone, Stevie?"

Eddie feigns offense, "Now why would I do that? Besides, even if I did, you're a big girl. I'm sure you could bully Steve into leaving you alone."

You smirk back at him, "Fine. But if you and Steve start getting all lovey-dovey, I'm bailing and leaving you to pay the tab."

Steve barks out a laugh, "Don’t worry about me, I can behave myself. Same can’t be said for Munson, he takes one look at the Harrington ass and loses all inhibitions.”

“It is beautifully round.” Eddie admits in defeat, hand clinging to his own flat ass, a ridiculously deep frown etched onto his features.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face and stays firmly put as you exit the video store, every nerve in your body buzzing when Steve winks in your direction when you depart.

The black lace bodysuit you wear clings to your curves nicely, the nip of your waist accentuated by your mom jeans. Eddie had even wolf whistled when he saw you, which was his nerdy way of saying you looked really fucking good.

As you pull up to the strip, Eddie slows down to a stop outside what looks like a dive bar, "I'm gonna drop you off here and go 'round back to park up the van, 'kay sweetheart? Steve's already in there."

Your eyes narrow, "I don't trust you, Munson. This feels like a set up."

Eddie holds his hands up, "It's not, I promise. I just need to go park the van and-" he trails off, sighs and rolls his eyes, "I have to go make a deal super quick. Don't want you there for that, this guy is sketchy."

You huff out a sigh, understanding him completely, Eddie really was a good guy who wouldn't put you in harms way. He knew leaving you with Steve momentarily was safer than taking you with him to a deal, and you trusted his judgment.

"Okay," you agree eventually, making to hop out of the van, "but I swear, Eddie, if you don't come back, I'm gonna be pissed. You'd better be dead."

Eddie holds up his hand in a scouts honor as if he was ever in the scouts in he first place, and you roll your eyes as you shove the creaky van door open and jump out.

"I'll be back soon, kiss Steve for me, will you?" Eddie jokes, grinning maniacally.

You stick up the finger and slam the door shut deliberately, making the walk around the side of the van before he can say anything in return.

As you make your way inside the bar, your mind races. Nerves and excitement are almost getting the best of you. Steve was just so cute, Eddie knew exactly what he was doing by introducing you both.

The place is surprisingly cosy, pool tables dimly lit by orange colored lights. It’s reminiscent of a bar from back home, all hard wood and walls covered in various pieces of movie and alcohol paraphernalia. There are people scattered here and there, in booths and at the bandits, playing games of darts and billiards.

Steve's sat at the bar on an old vintage barstool, side on to you. He's dressed in a tight black t-shirt, washed out Levi jeans clung to his muscular legs and a pair of Adidas trainers with green stripes on his feet. He looked relaxed, floppy hair falling into his eyes.

You were a goner already.

As you approach the bar, Steve must sense your presence, as he looks up with a grin, "Hey! Where's Eddie?"

"Parking up the van," you smile, taking the stool next to him and jumping up onto it, trying to ignore the way your tits bounce very obviously with the motion, "I wouldn't bother ordering him a drink yet, though. He's, uh, occupied."

Steve's mouth opens in an understanding 'ah'. It was no secret how Eddie made money, and you were sure Steve had to be used to this by now.

The bartender comes over and you order some fancy cocktail on the menu that consists of Coke, dark rum and cherry liqueur. It comes with a Maraschino cherry on top, and you can't hide the excitement on your face as you take your first sip.

Steve watches you with an amused grin, "You look like you're enjoying that drink."

"Oh, I absolutely am," you reply all too quickly, "a day of Eddie's shenanigans are enough to warrant a good drink."

Steve leans in closer to you, his eyes flickering over your body none too subtly, the charm ramping up with every sip of his Bud, "I think we’ve spoken far too much about Eddie for now. Tell me a little about yourself, honey."

Honey. There's that damn nickname again, enough to make you melt in a puddle off your barstool. There was no denying that Harrington knew what he was doing.

You shrug, going for nonchalant as you lock eyes, "Nothing to tell, really. I work in a little coffee shop during the day, and at night I guess I'm still trying to figure things out."

Steve nods in understanding, "What kind of things?"

You take another sip of your drink, relishing in the way it buzzes through your body, "Where I fit in the world, I guess. What I wanna do with my life in the long term. I’ve been in a rut for a while."

"I get that. Working in a video store in my mid twenties wasn’t really the plan set out for me, either." Steve responds with a furrowed brow, brutally honest, "Has Eddie told you much about me?"

You consider, "Not really. Just that you're a ladies man and you’re forever swiping the ‘hottest babes in Hawkins’ out from under him, but you know Eddie, he's a bit. Theatrical."

Steve chuckles, a flush on his freckled cheeks, as he leans in closer to you, "Between you and me, he's not wrong. Just haven't found the one to settle down with yet."

At the close proximity, you can really take in Steve. He's all tanned skin covered in gorgeous beauty marks, a strong neck with prominent veins, muscular arms but clearly on the softer side like he didn't take it too serious. He was like a Greek statue, his nose like it was carved from the same stone.

You flush, taking another - albeit larger - sip of your drink, swirling the ice in the glass, "So, do you pick up all the chicks in Family Video?"

Steve smirks, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "You recommend a chick flick to a girl and it's like a moth to a flame."

You do laugh at that, rolling your eyes fondly and nudging his shoulder with your own, "That's how you knew what movie Eddie meant! Romcoms are your strong suit for flirting purposes?"

Steve's hazel eyes run over your face softly, his soft, pink lips jutted out slightly, "Would it have worked on you, if Eddie wasn't there?"

Your breath catches in your throat, caught off guard by Steve's question, if only momentarily. "Yeah, I think so. Y'know, if it was actually the movie I was looking for and not an excuse for Eddie to mortify me."

Steve grins, big and wide at that. Your faces are so close together that if he leaned forward just a smidge more you could rub noses. At this distance, you find yourself being drawn into his orbit, nudging closer to him subconsciously.

"Guess Eddie's bailed on us, huh?" Steve chuckles, moving back a bit and looking at the clock above the bar, the time ticking past an hour with no sign of Eddie coming back, "Or maybe it was his plan all along?"

"He's a schemer." You hum, watching curiously as Steve flags down the bartender and orders you both another drink. You try not to panic about the lack of cash in your back pocket, hoping the drinks weren't too expensive.

As your conversation dies down, your eyes are drawn back to his neck. It's covered in an array of moles and freckles, and you find yourself becoming almost mesmerized by it as he swigs from his beer bottle.

His neck is strong and muscular, tendons protruding as he gulps down the warm beer. The dusting of week old stubble adds to the masculinity of it all. It's a beautiful feature, one that you can't help but stare at with hazy eyes, and the markings scattered across his skin just make it more attractive.

Without even realizing it, your hand lifts, drawn to the smooth skin on the right hand side. You trace your fingertips along a particular set of the moles, shaped like carved out fang bites, feeling the texture against the pads of your fingers.

Steve looks at you, his darkened eyes filled with curiosity and something else entirely. You can't help but blush as you realize what you've been doing, only to find your fingers continue to roam across the skin anyway.

"Is my neck really that fascinating?" He teases, a slight chuckle falling from his lips.

You laugh lightly, trying to play it cool as your fingertips slip from the stubble roughened skin, dancing across the open collar of his shirt playfully before falling back to your glass, "Maybe it's just a bit distracting."

Steve smirks, that look in his eyes causing your heart to rabbit in your chest, "You know, I could get used to having your hands on me."

The huskiness in his voice catches you off guard, and you subtly clench your thighs together, aware of the fluttering in your gut as he leans in closer.

You roll your eyes playfully, trying to cover your blush by raising your cocktail glass to your lips, "You're such a flirt."

Steve only shifts closer at that, his shoulder bumping yours gently, "And what if I am?" He asks, lips so close to your ear that you can feel his hot breath dampen the skin, "You're the one with your hands all over me, honey."

Your breath catches in your throat, a hot spike of heady need and want coursing through your body. It's a momentary slip, one that Steve no doubt catches immediately, "I never said I wasn't enjoying it."

Your voice is barely above a whisper, Steve's close proximity somehow narrowing further as his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, "Trust me, honey. I know you're enjoying it, you've had those pretty thighs of yours clamped together for a moment now. Gotta relieve that ache, huh?"

You shiver visibly, goosebumps rising across your neck and down your arms, jolts of electricity coursing through your body. As if Steve can sense it, he lets his own - unfairly, painfully large, veiny - hand run over your thigh, just above the knee. He traces the curve of your thigh through your jeans, barely touching but it's enough to make you ache for more.

Two seconds or five minutes later, who knows, he pulls away from your ear. You gawk, unsubtle, as he takes a long sip of his drink as if nothing ever happened. He smacks his lips together, those hazel eyes landing on yours again, a playful smile on his lips, "Where were we again?"

You try to play it cool, but your body is reacting to Steve, still reeling from the feeling of his touch all over you, "Uh. Um," you start, making yourself busy by tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "we were talking about our favorite movies, I think?"

Steve's face kind of screws up into a fake 'ah-hah!' as you blindly (and wrongly) fill in the blanks for him, seemingly completely unfazed by what just happened, "Right! You said your favorite of all time was Dirty Dancing, right?"

He’s making it up right before your eyes, playing along. And it’s painfully unfortunate that he’s right without even trying, guessing your favorite movie right out the gate. It makes your brain go a little fuzzy.

You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the conversation at hand. Even as Steve's own godforsaken hand continues to rest casually on your leg, his thumb running circles over your inner thigh, just above the knee, "Yeah, absolutely. Patrick Swayze, he's just swoonworthy."

You say it so casually, as if Steve himself didn't look like Swayze. More James Dalton than Johnny Castle, though. The hair, the tight black shirt, the jeans hugged perfectly to the swell of his ass and the curve of his muscular thighs. You had a type, clearly.

"Don't tell anyone, but Roadhouse is my favorite movie of all time." Steve grins, as if reading your thoughts from across the way, "Patrick Swayze, huh? Your type buff guys with a soft side?"

"I would've thought me sticking around on this ‘date’ with you was enough of a giveaway on that front." You giggle, finally finding the courage to tip the last of your drink to your lips, swallowing it down in one fluid motion. You feel Steve's fingers dig into the meat of your leg, feel his eyes on you as you pretend not to notice.

You know you should move his hand away, but you can't bring yourself to do it. The feeling of his touch more intoxicating than the rum-filled drink you'd found yourself nursing, the hot feeling in your gut growing and growing the higher Steve's hand goes.

"And here I was, thinking it was just my natural charm keeping you stuck in that seat." Steve says with a chuckle, running circles around your inner thigh like it's not making your insides squirm.

You roll your eyes, unable to hide your tipsy smile. There's just something about Steve, something so naturally charming that draws you in - he's confident without it being too much, and the way a stormy look swarms in his hazel eyes doesn't help with the physical pull you feel towards him.

The more he touches you, the more he looks at you, the more distracted you are by him. The alcohol coursing through your veins does nothing but amplify the warmth spreading through your body at his heavy petting.

He's beautiful, and you're blissfully comfortable in his presence, comfortable enough that the lull in conversation isn't even awkward. You look at each other through heavy lids, find yourself smacking your glossed lips together prettily, leaning your chin on your palm, elbow on the bar.

Finally, you speak, "So, do you always put these moves on your customers like this? Or am I special?" You drawl, teasing.

Steve leans in, his hand skating higher up your thigh, so close to the warm heat between your legs that you squirm a little, "Only the ones who make the moves first. You started this, remember?"

Your heart rate kicks up a little more, and for a moment you forget where you are. All you can think about is Steve's wandering hand, the bedroom eyes he's giving you like he wants to devour you in public. You want nothing more than for him to pull you in for a kiss, to lose your inhibition and get lost in the heat of the moment.

Somebody across the room begins hollering, crashing you back to reality, and it's a sobering reminder that there are dozens of people in this bar, who can see exactly what's happening right now. You clear your throat, shuffling back on your barstool a little, regretfully.

Steve's face falls, the flirty smirk gone in an instant, his hand dropping back down to your knee. You want to throw a tantrum like a little kid, tell him that it's not him, that you want it. Want whatever he's offering, just not here.

"We should maybe call it a night?" You offer, nodding towards the door, "I've probably gotta catch the bus back home, I know it leaves soon, so..."

You trail off and Steve nods, the disappointed look still on his face but a charming smirk gracing it once again, "Of course, I'll walk you over to the stop."

Steve pays the tab like it's nothing, throwing bills and a nice tip on the bar for the guy who served you. As you leave the bar and walk out into the cool night air, it hits you fast just how much the drinks have gone to your head.

"Hey, you okay?" Steve asks gently, a strong arm snaking around your waist. "My apartment isn't far from here, we can walk back there and sober up a bit? I can drive you home in a few hours."

If it weren't for the fact you knew Steve, Eddie knew Steve, and he was known for being a decent guy despite his reputation, you'd have shot it down in a heartbeat. But, the opportunity to be in his presence a little longer was something you didn't want to give up.

And, honestly, you didn’t know which bus would get you back anywhere close to the trailer park, not knowing Hawkins from Adam. This was easily the safest option.

You look up at him, snuggling into him on instinct, "Are you sure? I don't mind catching the bus, Steve. I'm a big girl, I can look after myself."

Steve beams at that, teeth shining as he looks down at you, his eyes fixed on yours, "You might be able to, but I wanna look after you tonight. And besides, I don't think either of us are ready for this to be over yet."

You hide your small laugh into his shoulder, unable to ignore the strong smell of cedarwood and bergamot wafting from his shirt, intoxicating in its own right. The giddy feeling that erupts in you is almost juvenile.

You walk down the streets quietly, taking in the pretty sunset that dims the strip in pretty pinks and oranges. There's a comfortable tension between you both, like you're both attempting to play it cool but the attraction is too strong to stop you from pulling into each other. He never once takes his hand off your waist, and that's a revelation all on its own.

Finally, you reach Steve's apartment, a cozy little bottom floor space. It's minimalistic, like a typical guy's apartment, but it feels homely. Smells like fresh laundry and the same aftershave you'd been smelling the entire walk over.

Steve looks regretful as he untangles himself from you, throwing his keys down on a table at the front door, "Take a seat, honey. I'll go get you something to drink."

It's all open planned, the entryway leading straight into the living room, where a simple leather sofa and matching lazy boy sit. You throw yourself down ungracefully on the sofa, tucking yourself into the corner with a leg pulled up under your opposite thigh.

There's two pictures on a sideboard, one of Steve and Eddie with two women you don't recognize at what looked like an outdoor gig, amongst a crowd of concertgoers. Another with the Hellfire kids, who you wouldn't know if it weren't for Eddie. The lack of family pictures are telling, though you don't dwell on it.

"Lemonade okay?" Steve asks, a pitcher in hand and a few small cups in the other, "I mean, I do have whiskey and beer if you wanna keep the party going?"

"Lemonade's great." Your voice is fond, unable to keep the smile off your face as Steve sets them down on the coffee table in front of you, looking so domestic it makes you ache.

Your eyes trail over the broad expanse of his back, his strong shoulders in that same tight tee, the way his moles and freckles even continue past the neckline. You wonder if he's covered completely, that same dull throb between your legs returning even as you sober up.

"Stop staring, you'll give me a complex." Steve drawls, not turning to look at you as he pours the cool lemonade into the glasses. You flush warm, averting your eyes.

He throws himself down onto the sofa right next to you, body also tilted so that you're facing each other, though your legs touch, burning hot through layers of starchy denim.

"I'm sure plenty of girls have been caught staring at you over the years, Harrington." You counter eventually, mouth dry.

"None that looked quite as hungry for it as you do right now." Steve quips, that same flirty smirk on his lips as he hands you your drink, "I didn't say I didn't like it, though."

Heat creeps up your neck, the need to take a drink intensifying. You do just that, sipping from the glass in your hand.

Steve's a real handful, and the longer you spend in his presence, the less you know how to handle it. Your body reacting and taking over for your brain, any playful retorts dying in your throat.

"So," Steve starts, no doubt sensing your awkwardness, "tell me. How did you meet Eddie?"

You pause for a moment, caught off guard by the question, "How did I meet Eddie?" You laugh a little, flippant, "Before he came to Hawkins to live with Wayne, he lived in my town. He came home last Christmas break and we met at a friend's party."

Steve raises an eyebrow, "A friend's party?"

You smile. "It's not a crazy story, just a guy we both knew at different times. We just clicked I guess, we have similar interests and he just has this way of making you feel comfortable and safe. I can see why you're friends, you're so alike in that way."

It's Steve’s turn to blush, a flush of pink spreading over his nose and cheeks cutely, "What a compliment. That's cool though, so you didn't know each other before he moved?"

You shake your head, "Nah, he's a little older so we missed each other. But, our friend - Carter, told me this hilarious story about how he got kicked out of middle school that I've got to tell you..."

You trail off, telling the story that Steve genuinely laughs at, this booming, goofy thing that is just so goddamn endearing.

Steve listens intently, like he's genuinely interested. His gaze locked on yours, like he's trying to memorize every single thing you're saying. You don't miss his fond looks as you talk with your hands, gesturing wildly as you tell the story.

And then, without warning, he leans in with a strong hand on the side of your neck, fingertips sliding into your hair.

He gives you enough time to pull back, a moment to say no that you choose not to take. His lips brush yours, soft and tender at first until you're melting into his touch, deepening the kiss with a surge of your body.

His hand almost engulfs your neck, thumb running gently over your trachea as your chest rolls into his, desperate to get closer. The light smacking sounds of wet lips making you light headed, your hand coming out to tug at the material of Steve's shirt to steady yourself.

Steve's tongue slithers out to swipe your bottom lip and you're a goner, climbing ungracefully into his lap, knocking him back against the sofa. He lets out a startled huff, both hands coming out to bracket your waist when you allow him entry into your mouth.

It's raw, messy and a little bit gross. Steve tastes like beer and a tang of the lemonade he'd been sipping, a hint of something else under there, a heady cinnamon. It's intoxicating, more than the drinks you'd nursed in the bar, and you find your hips rolling down into his on instinct, desperate to show him how much you wanted him.

He grunts, hands rocking you and helping you along. He's not hard yet, not at all, but the way he's moving your body is clear enough that he's into it as your tongues slip back and forth. He pulls back a little, the kiss becoming light and you let him guide you.

"Sorry, I just," Steve looks up at you with wild eyes, hair fanned out around his face where he lies back against the sofa, "I couldn't help it. You're so kissable, y'know that?"

“Don’t say sorry,” you scold playfully, smirking down at him, “you have my permission to do what you want. Anything you want.”

His hand wanders over your breast teasingly, light touches that you can barely feel through the layers of bra and shirt over your taut nipple, enough to have you arching into the touch in a silent plea for more.

Steve chuckles, deep and mischievous, clearly enjoying how your body melts under the simplest of grazes. It’s clear as day that he doesn’t give one singular fuck as to how desperate you are, pleased and satisfied taking his time with you.

Your hands entangle in his thick chestnut hair, tugging roughly at the root until Steve is moaning, hand faltering to skate down your stomach. Landing on the button of your jeans, but not moving.

“Steve.” You groan, impatient, “Don’t frustrate me or I’ll do it myself. Please?”

Steve tsk’s, his pearly whites gleaming in the low light as he smirks at your desperation, “You don’t like it slow?”

You roll your eyes, tugging his hair again, using it as reins to grind down into him, the heat of your cunt enough to have him grunting quietly. “Slow is boring. Slow means careful. I don’t want you to be careful with me, Steve. Show me how desperate you can be, show me how desperate you are for me.”

Steve’s eyes flash so dark they’re near black, the sweetness still lurking vanishing in an instant. He gives you one last squeeze to your ass before he’s using both hands to practically rip the button of your jeans, fingers slipping into the tight denim and beneath the satin of your panties.

“I’ll show you, you impatient brat,” he grunts, fingertips sliding between your folds and his eyes roll back at the feeling, “like fucking velvet, honey. You’re so wet, how long you been like this for me?”

“Somewhere between entering the bar and you touching my thigh.” You breathe, crying out when his pointer and middle finger slide into you at once, a blissful stretch that takes your goddamn breath away.

“So easy for it.” Steve coos, and it would be offensive if it weren’t for the way he looks at you with honey swirled irises, soft at the edges despite the bite of his words.

The hand not preoccupied with your cunt grips for your throat, thumb pressing into your pulse point as Steve surges forward to capture your lips once again. It’s rough, intimate, the graze of Steve’s stubble rubbing your chin raw as he bullies his tongue into your mouth.

Your brain short circuits, his tongue reducing you to a bumbling, sobbing mess as you grind down into his palm, clit catching and rubbing against the dry skin in the most painfully beautiful way.

The air is thick with sexual tension, thicker than the strands of hair you pull and tug at, thicker than the outline of his cock that you can feel digging into the fat of your inner thigh.

“That’s it,” Steve mumbles against your lips, the pads of his fingertips rubbing against that little bump on your frontal wall that has your hips jumping forward of their own accord, “don’t hold back, honey. Let me hear you fall apart for me.”

It’s domineering. He’s fully in control and you’re letting him as you rut against the palm of his hand, sweat coating your brow as you fuck your hips against him, desperate to reach the edge.

The plushness of his lips kiss down your jaw, to your throat where he latches on and sucks his mark into your skin. Sure to be a beautiful purple bloom in the morning, a temporary reminder that he was there. You want to beg for more.

So you do.

“Mark me like I’m yours.” You cry, whimper, even. Your body runs hot, goosebumps erupting on your skin as your impending orgasm starts to build.

You swear you feel the smirk against your flushed throat. Steve latches onto you again, this time lower down, wider. You pull his hair, sighing contentedly as he suckles, nibbles at your tender flesh to produce yet another mark.

His hips jump up against yours, a momentary slip that makes you want to plead for his cock, your brain so fuzzy with the need to rut and fuck that you’re about to give up the orgasm you’re so close to getting.

“You’re clenching so tight around my fingers, baby,” Steve moans, kissing soothingly over the thumping ache of a bruise he’s left on your neck, “you gonna cum for me?”

The white hot flashes of want and hunger you feel prickle up your back only intensify with his words, the end in sight as you ride against the palm of his hand feverishly, your clit sliding beautifully over the flesh.

Your orgasm rips through you like a fucking knife to the stomach, your fingers gripping and pulling Steve’s hair so tightly that his head snaps back with the sheer force. You sob wetly, riding his fingers with jerky hips as he fucks you through it, eyes bleary but focused enough to see the hungry way he looks at you falling apart for him, soaking your panties and his fingers in the process.

“You needed that one, huh?” Steve coos, mocking you lightheartedly as his fingers deftly slip from inside of you. You try your best to ignore the way it makes you feel empty.

You nod dumbly after a moment, the whooshing in your ears beginning to fade out. You collapse into his chest with a small, contented sigh.

It takes only a mere few seconds for you to get with the program once more, kissing tenderly at Steve’s mole flecked neck, burying in to nip with your teeth hesitantly. Your hips move like they have a mind of their own, grinding down into the incredibly prominent bulge that rests hard against his zipper.

He grunts, hips thrusting up into yours as you move in some sort of slow, aching rhythm. His wide hands practically engulf your waist, fingertips digging into soft, supple flesh to help you rock your tired body against his own.

It feels so fucking good, your body reacting to his in a way that was genuinely concerning, the primal need to fuck and have him inside of you taking over any kind of inhibition you previously had. He feels big, thick and hot nestled between your folds through two layers of rough denim, and the desperation ramps up.

You whine, pathetic into his salty, sweat damp skin, “Need more. Need you inside me, Steve.”

Steve groans like he’s in pain, hips jerking up involuntarily like they have a mind of their own, knocking you both out of the rhythm, “You sound so pretty when you beg. I’ll take care of you, honey. Knock you dumb just like you need.”

The sound you make is so pathetic that you instantly bury your face tighter into his skin, fingernails biting at the back of his neck. Steve’s hands are under your ass in a second, gripping to your thighs as he flips you onto your back on the sofa, muscular thighs spreading your legs impossibly wide as he buries between them.

“You need these off.” He grunts, pulling at the baggy denim of your jeans with rough fingers. You barely have the coherency to lift your ass up to help him wriggle you out of the offending material, body practically limp after the bone melting orgasm he just gave you with practiced ease.

“This too?” He asks gently, reaching for your top. You nod, lifting yourself up so he can slip it over your head, leaving you in only your bra and panties.

You don’t wait for him to ask before you’re unclasping your bra, pulling that off so that your tits are bared too. They look great, your best feature if you did say so yourself, so it wasn’t exactly a difficult decision to make.

He marvels at you for a second too long, taking in the sight of your body laid out below him, and those stormy eyes of his look deeper yet again – he looks hungry. Instead of it making you self conscious, it only spurs you on.

You wrap your legs around his torso, thick thighs pulling him in until he’s losing his balance and having to lean one arm out against the arm of the sofa to brace himself over you. The gold of his chain dangles close to your mouth, cooling the plumpness of your bottom lip with every gentle sway.

“Down, girl,” Steve scolds, though that cocky smirk still graces his features and makes him look so painfully hot it makes your pussy flutter, “I gotta go get a condom.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “And risk ruining the moment? You’re clean, right?”

Steve nods, that cock-sure confidence faltering for a second, “Are you?”

You nod, biting at your bottom lip, “Haven’t done this for a while, big boy. You think you have the restraint to pull out in time?”

Steve shudders visibly at your question, a heady whimper escaping his lips, “I can try my best, but no promises, honey. I felt how tight and soaked you were around my fingers, if you feel too good I’m not responsible for the consequences.”

You let out a shaky laugh, though it cuts off into a moan when Steve lifts himself up and away from your body for long enough to stretch his arms behind his neck, pulling his shirt off from the back of his head with one fluid movement.

He’s a marvel. The moles and beauty marks extend the entire way down his torso, even below his belt line, arms sculpted beautifully and his tummy muscular yet still soft. He’s everything, your belly flutters looking at this fucking perfect man sat between your spread thighs like some sort of Greek marble statue.

“Holy. Wow.” Your mouth is dry, your hands having a mind of their own yet again – just like in the bar – and coming out to touch and squeeze the flesh of his torso. Steve smirks, like he knows what you’re so hung up about, arching into your touch.

He allows you the seconds of indulgence before it’s back to business, his fingers making light work of his belt and jeans as he regrettably departs his space between your naked legs to push the material down his legs and away from your bodies.

His dick is so heavy that even though it’s fully hard, it doesn’t slap against his tummy, hanging slightly forward with its own weight. He’s big. Alarmingly big. And did you mention thick? Really thick.

God. He was going to be a stretch.

Steve grins sheepishly, settling back between your legs hesitantly. He makes to speak, but you stop him in his tracks;

“You’ve not gotta be gentle,” you reassure, reminding him of your words before he dipped his hands into your panties just minutes ago, “fuck me like you mean it.”

Steve groans, burying his face into your neck as he lines himself up with your cunt and pushes in with one fluid motion. It knocks the breath out of the both of you for a moment, and you whimper pitifully at the gorgeous, burning ache of him stretching you out to fit him perfectly.

“Holy shit,” He breathes, panting into your neck, “so fucking tight for me, honey.”

You preen at Steve’s words, arching into his torso and somehow pushing him in even deeper. He had no idea just how much it stroked your ego to hear those words, no idea that it turned your insides into goo to know you were doing so good for him before it even started.

He rolls his hips into yours, the wet heat of your cunt gripping him, and you pant like an animal in heat when the subtle movement causes the coarse hair nestled in his mons to catch onto your sensitive clit.

Your hips wriggle a little after a moment, a sign to let him know it’s okay to move, and Steve takes that subtle movement and runs with it — pulling out only to slam back in again, knocking your body up the couch.

It’s maddening. Your body runs hot with want and desperation, insides molding to the shape of his – quite frankly, annoyingly big - dick with each thrust, driving you absolutely insane in the process. The cut head rubs against that damn spot each time, and you know he’s going to tip you over for a second time all too soon.

“Fuck.” You cry, hands coming up to bury in his mane of hair once again and tug him down, “Fucking — how does it feel to be Gods favorite?”

Steve grins, mischievous and lust bitten around the edges as he sinks into your cunt with a quickening pace, “Stroke my ego baby, I love it.”

“Don’t get cocky, Stevie. Or I’ll just shut my mouth.”

The grin turns salacious, a large hand coming out to wrap along the expanse of your throat, just resting and not pushing, thumb caressing the side of your neck soothingly, “Don’t you wanna be good for me, honey? Or are you bratting so that I’ll give you what you really crave?”

You whimper involuntarily, and that's all the confirmation Steve needs to really drive into you. Your back arches so that your torsos flush together, and he snakes a hand beneath the curve to grip onto your waist from below.

“Oh my God!” You moan, body jolting at the change of angle. You’re turned into a babbling mess, fingernails digging into each of Steve’s biceps as he fucks you deep, rough enough to leave a mind numbing sting that you swear you feel in your damn throat.

He’s looking at you with this wild expression, eyes wide like he’s drinking you in, watching each emotion he evokes from you with his body, “That’s it, taking me so fucking good. You like being fucked like a whore, honey?”

You nod, knocked dumb, mouth hung open like a pliant slut, a constant steady stream of whines and shuddering gasps falling from parted lips with each deep slide of his cock inside of you.

“You trust me?” He whispers, lips hovering just mere centimeters from your own, and you nod again, going cross eyed.

A drop of saliva hangs from Steve’s pursed lips, sliding down into your open mouth and onto your tongue. You cry out, pathetic and desperate as you swallow down the spit like it’s cool water on a hot summers day.

Steve shudders against you, hips slamming into you as his thrusts become erratic. You pray his apartment is somewhat soundproof, for all you can hear is the wet slap of skin on skin mixed with dirty moaning and pitiful cries.

“You’re perfect,” Steve mutters, sloppily kissing your lips before moving back to your jaw, worrying the flesh between his teeth like he can’t help it, “a fucking dream, honey. See how you’re ruining me?”

You don’t get a chance to reply before he’s dropping your body back onto the sofa, his thumb swiping over your clit in a desperate attempt to get you there before he does.

It’s all too much. Your body runs hot, static surging up your back, hot in your gut as he works you over. You have to clench your eyes shut, painfully aware of his sculpted body gleaming with sweat, the swivel of his hips as his cock buries deep into you.

Your second orgasm hits you just as hard as your first, your legs shaking and cunt clenching sporadically as it washes over you like a fiery inferno, gasps and wet cries of Steve’s name and other incoherent nonsense spewing from your lips.

“Oh shit, holy fuck, baby you feel so – so good, god I’m gonna cum,” Steve shallowly fucks into you, jerky and desperate, “where do you want me to– fuck!”

You open your eyes within enough time to see Steve pull out of you, sloppily tugging at his cock two, three times before he’s spilling all over your stomach. Hot spurts of it cover you from your belly button the whole way to your chest, and you swear you’ve never seen a man cum so much in your damn life.

It’s so hot. Being branded by ropes of cooling semen, sparking over finger bitten skin and bruises made by warm and heavy lips.

There’s a long second afterwards, where Steve sags heavily against the couch as his dick softens, both of you panting and trying to catch a breath.

“I’ll be right back,” Steve’s voice shocks you out of the contented post-orgasm haze, his hand squeezing your inner thigh gently as he gets up from where he’s perched, off in search of what you don’t know.

He reappears with a wet washcloth, and it’s all very domesticated as he wipes you down gently with the cool towel, fingers gentle against your sore skin in a stark contrast to just moments earlier.

You’re both completely naked still. This should be strange, but it doesn’t feel that way. Steve makes you feel painfully at ease and that’s something your orgasm fogged brain can’t comprehend or bear to think about right now.

“This might be a bit presumptuous, but,” Steve hums, inspecting your body to make sure he’s cleaned you down good enough for his liking, smirking as you squirm under his gaze, “do you wanna stay the night? It’s really late and, uh, well I don’t wanna kick you out after that. It was a bit intense.”

Your eyes are bleary. Fuck. He’s going to ruin you for anybody else.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Your voice is soft, quiet as you rise from the soiled sofa to sit up properly, “You’ll need to call Eddie, let him know I’m okay.”

“I think he knows you’re all good,” Steve grins sheepishly, helping you to your feet and tugging you close as soon as you’re up, “I might’ve called him when I was in the kitchen earlier, let him know you were here to sober up.”

You roll your eyes with a small smile, leaning into him with a heavy sigh, “You better have a comfy bed.”

“The comfiest.” Steve confirms, dragging you gently towards the door, “I also have a really big shower, and really good water pressure, so…”

“Oh my God, I’m never leaving.” You mumble into his chest, giggling playfully when he lifts you up ever so slightly with his muscular arms and knocks the bedroom door shut behind you.

part 2?

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington blurb #mine #my fanfic #x reader

872 notes · View notes