#dark steve harrington
Text
on the mat (boxer!steve harrington x fem!librarian reader)
summary: steve tries to teach you a few boxing lessons in the ring, but ends up (re)learning a thing or two about you instead.
uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.
✶ the king of the ring (1993)
✶ main masterlist
tags: the return of casually dominant!steve; play fighting? i guess?; smut (fingering); slight humiliation kink?; finger sucking.
october 24th, 1993
The gym sat in a stiff, sticky heat. A palpable humidity settled in your body, bloating with exertion and frustration and just a little too much humiliation for your liking. Beneath a pair of padded, pink leather boxing gloves, your fingers were sore and tired, slick with sweat from hours confined. They sat now balled up on your hips, chest rising and falling in heavy huffs beneath a soaked-thin sports bra.
And there Steve stood across the ring, shiny and pink-less, grinning like he'd been given a lollypop. Your eyes narrowed into slits, lips drying with thirst. A burn gathered in your chest a few minutes ago, and now every inhale felt like sucking on fire.
"Ah, come on, angel," he cooed, shaking his hand out of one glove to free his fingers and push back his drenched hair. "You're doin' so good."
Somehow, a few hours ago, Steve roped you into training with him. He'd been begging to teach you how to properly box since you started dating, and somehow, he finally convinced you. It was just as exhausting and demanding as you thought it would be, and now you were dripping buckets and making a fool of yourself in front of the man you loved. It was tiresome and humiliating, and you wanted it to be over the minute it started.
"Then I say we call it a day," you huffed.
Wiggling his swollen hand back into the weathered gloves, Steve shook his head and cocked a sideways grin. "I don't think so, sweetheart—"
"Steve," you whined, foot stomping. "Come onnnn."
His shoulders quaked with laughter, and the pinched glare you had on your face morphed into a weepy pout. Steve pulled at the laces of his glove with his teeth until they were well enough taut to stay put, sneakers scuffing over the mat as he headed your way.
The gym was closed on Sundays, so you had the place entirely to yourself—it was easy for Steve to pull strings and get his way. With the amount of championships he'd won over the past few years, Steve could get away with just about anything these days. Endorsements and companies hoping for brand deals kissed his ass just for a chance at conversation. So, if Steve Harrington wanted a private gym for a training session with his girlfriend, he'd get it.
But that left you entirely at his mercy.
Steve brought his puffy, gloved fists to your arms, tugging you close. Lip jutted and eyes down-pointed, you opted to huff and puff at the ground instead of meeting his eye like you knew he wanted. He brought a fist to your chin, kicking it up gently.
"Sweetheart," he chuckled. "C'mon, don't be a baby."
"M' not bein' a baby," you grumbled, jerking your chin away.
Another smile toyed on his lips. "No?"
"No."
Steve replaced his touch under your chin, urging your head back where he wanted. His touch smelled like leather and the salty musk of sweat, and every spent and frazzled nerve in your body sparked with arousal like severed wires in an electric rainstorm. You inhaled sharply, following his guiding touch until you caught sight of his strong chin.
"Gimme a kiss, angel."
The roll of your eyes was entirely theatrical, because the gruff sound of his voice rumbling through you had you squirming. But it was so easy to give into Steve—sometimes, you liked to make him wait a little. Sometimes, you wanted his voice to drop from that soft, fluffy coo and dip into something dark and firm.
Steve bent his neck, leaning toward your mouth. You turned your head. In your periphery, the delicacy of his features congealed like spoiled milk—narrowed brows and hard eyes. The yellow spotlights above the ring blazed down like sunlight, singing your skin with unforgivable heat.
"Hey." Steve flicked your head back with his glove against your cheek. "Give me. A kiss."
You fell into his touch, but when you inched forward on the tops of your new Reeboks, your mouth merely grazed. Brushed against his lips in a soft, chaste kiss. When you sank back to your height, Steve's chuckle was sharp and huffed through his nose. He dropped his hand from your face and stepped back.
"Back in position."
Groaning, you let your arms drop limply at your sides. "Steve—"
"Now," he barked, voice clanging off the walls like metal.
You jolted, trudging toward the center of the ring with a grumpy, nonsensical grumble of disagreement. Steve shook his head as he headed toward the corner, pulling at the laces of his gloves with his teeth until they smacked against the mat. He fumbled in his gym bag, pulling out the flat pads meant for throwing jabs. When they were snug around his hands, he stood to his full height and sauntered toward you.
Wordlessly, Steve assumed a firm stance and held out the pads out in front of him, biceps veined and bulging. His eyes bored into you over the top of the black leather, void and heavily-lidded. You sighed, arms limp and buzzing.
You lifted your right fist and let it tap the left pad weakly. It barely made a sound. Steve shook his head again, slow and steady, but still he didn't admonish you. You tried again with the left fist, tapping just a little harder on the right pad.
"Pathetic."
Your eyes snapped over, breath hitching. "What?"
Steve hadn't moved an inch, breath sure and steady. "I said, pathetic."
Your stomach grappled, a new wave of heat singing your cheeks. “I-I’m not—“
“So hit me like you fucking mean it.”
Though foggy with exhaustion and void of any semblance of desire to put any sort of effort into this, the way Steve’s voice sliced around his command made your insides surge. Pathetic.
You’d show him pathetic.
It shot out before you could truly control it: your first careening into the pad, striking Steve’s hand with vigor. The smack was sharp and acute, and delight burst his pupil to dilation.
Your fist buzzed in the glove, slick with sweat and swollen from work, but it felt…good. It felt good to hit, and it felt good to watch pride swell in Steve’s gaze because of something you’d done.
His lips parted to speak, breath short and clipped with intention to speak, but you beat him to it. Another hit to the glove—a swift jab, knocking him off kilter. He wavered a moment, then steadied. His eyes bored into you like he’d just seen you for the first time. And maybe he had.
You tore at the velcro of your gloves with your teeth, shaking the leather off. Every part of your body felt like it was convulsing. You could barely see straight, and everything came with a haloed glow. You shuffled back toward the edge of the ring.
“Where y’ goin’, angel?” Steve asked, inching forward.
Huffing, you tossed your gloves on the mat and glared at him. “To change. I want to go home.”
Steve took another step forward, following every move backward like the pair of you were tethered together. “We’re not done here.”
Hands on your hips, you sliced him with a look meant to kill. “Yes, we are.”
You turned then, eyes set on the locker room door across the gym. You barely got a toe toward the edge of the ring before Steve had you by the arm. Somehow, the pads were on the floor again, and Steve’s most lethal weapons were out to play.
“Hey! Steve, don’t—“
You pushed him. He tugged you closer. You gaped at him, at his display of audacity. You pushed again, a firm palm to a firmer chest. He let go. You turned again, but this time, he had you by the waist. Anchoring you, pulling you back. You planted your heels and resisted with all your might, grunting and mewling for release. But Steve’s hold was inescapable.
It tugged you to the mat, weighing you down until the pair of you slipped and ended flat in the ring. A pair of limbs scrambling and tangling, knotting together between huffs and groans. He flipped you over onto your back, and you kicked at his hips with the heels of your feet until it gave you an inch up. Twisting and churning, clawing with your hands. What the hell were you doing? You had no idea, but your body was on fire and you couldn’t breathe—and it all felt so good.
With all the writhing and tumbling, you found your way toward the edge of the ring. You wrapped your fingers around the lowest rope, teeth gritted with exertion as you pulled. But Steve was down on you, heavy and full of cords of taut muscle that you were no match for. And even without the weight of him, he still had his hands.
“Nah, nah,” he huffed, a chuckle airing through his nose as he watched your fingers tremble around the rope. “You’re not goin’ anywhere.”
Your hand slammed against the mat, caged in his own crushing your fingers in his palm. It was then that you decided to give up on your fight. Pinned by his body, inhaling his exhales, licking beads of sweat as they dripped into your mouth. His hair coiled over his brow, tickling his lashes. His upper lip snarled into a smile, and with his big, hulking form between your legs, you suddenly forgot all about how tired you were and just why you ever wanted to get away.
Like Steve said, you weren’t going anywhere.
Keeping you stationary with his hand around your wrist, kept above your head and off the side, Steve made quick work of the ties on your shorts. Pulling their knot loose, yanking the band down your hips. He pressed the pad of two fingers into your damp, sticky panties over your crotch, and when you shuddered in a gasp, he chuckled again.
“God, you still like it so tough, huh?” He pressed a little harder, rubbed small circles into your clothed nub.
His breath tickled your face with every word spat out. “Pretend you’re so sweet and shy. But you, honey…you like to be fucked. Mean.”
The rubbing burned against the friction of your damp panty fabric and Steve’s fingers. His touch stung, like it always did. And the light in his eyes was one of fiery delight and wonderment. Absolute desire, lapping its forked, devil tongue between the pair of you. You released a sweeping breath, face creased with anguishing pleasure.
Steve rummaged the surface of your face, glowing like a jewel with salty dampness. You rose and fell with such shallow, struggled breaths that he was certain you’d run out of air.
He fell down on his arm a little, nose brushing your nose. “Tell me,” he whispered, voice an echo in your fuzzy, sloshing thoughts. “Tell me you like me mean.”
You choked, air catching in your throat. Right in the middle, where your heart sat waiting, and pulsing. “I-I…I…”
His lip curled again, nose scrunching to follow the crude expression of a growl. “I think you love it, don’t you? C’mon, tell me you love it.”
Oh, the sound of his voice, sweetened with mockery and seasoned with humiliation. He rubbed a little faster, enjoying the tremble of your thighs. Your body was rippling.
“I-I,” you gasped, fingers curling into a fist above your head. “I…Oh, Steve—p-please!”
“Tell me you love it,” he bit, teeth snapping at your mouth.
“Oh,” you howled, bucking into his touch. He pushed the cotton aside and let his fingers breach the bare warmth, and now you were certainly a puddly mess. He prodded at your hole with a spongy touch.
“You love it,” he coaxed, the sound of his voice nearly hypnotic now.
Convincing you, telling you, promising you. You loved it.
“I love it!”
With your confession, he plunged in. His fingers buried themselves inside you until he caught resistance, watching you jerk upward and hold tight, breath bubbled in your throat and swollen in your chest. The veins in your neck scraped their way toward your jaw, protruding without air. He curled his fingers just a little, watched you twist a little to the left. Like some sort of woman possessed.
He gently rocked his fingers in and out, each time nudging that little spot inside you that grew sore and hungry. You caught your breath when he kissed your mouth, releasing it between his lips sealed over yours.
“I love it,” you murmured again, vision spotted and streaked. “I do, I do, I do.”
He clamped your babbles with more wet kisses. Silent reassurances. Gentle and full-mouthed, absent of tongue and just breath, transferred between one pair of lips to the other. Your chin tipped upward to follow them, chasing after more pecks. Steve pulled away just far enough to find amusement in your suffering.
"You'll get a kiss," he murmured, too soft for his cruelty. "When you gimme what I want."
And when you cinched your brows together with feigned confusion, Steve tipped his head a little toward the light haloing behind him, beaconing from the gunmetal roof. The slightest arch of a brow, the knowing narrow of a pair of whiskey-colored eyes flecked with sage.
"You know what I want," he rasped.
Heart hammering hard against your ribs, flesh singing with stimulation, bones droning with desire—all you could manage was a nod.
He wanted what he always wanted—all of you.
One more gentle prod, fingers goading against the swollen, fleshy tissue pulsing deep inside you. One more kiss to the underside of your jaw, lips cradling the pulse point below your right ear. One more squeeze of your wrist in his big hand, thumb into a mass of uneasy muscle fluttering with life punctured by the teeth of his love.
Orgasmic euphoria erupted into bursts of color. Crimson red like the blood Steve shed. Cognac brown like the bits of his eyes illuminated only in direct light. Black as the color of his love, bruised without mercy.
Tiny, pitiful whimpers pipped out of you in short successions. Steve quieted them with more kisses, just as promised. He slipped his fingers from your quivering cunt with caution, parted lips gliding wetly across your cheek from their place on your mouth, smearing hot breaths and spit.
"Open," he whispered, though when his fingers came to your lips, they were already ajar and releasing pants.
You sucked them clean, blinking blearily as he fell into your neck, equally as spent by his exertions. His fingers coasted down your arm as they left your wrist, releasing your binds. You shivered absently when they slid against your ribs, pressing into the curve of your waist.
"I still wanna fuck," Steve huffed, nosing at your neck where the perfume you applied hours ago faded with sweat. "But gotta lie down first."
Giggling, you kissed the wetness of his hairline etched above his temple lazily. "Me too."
"Well yeah, I rocked your world."
#rolly!#boxer!steve harrington#steve harrington smut#steve harrington#steve harrington au#steve harrington fic#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n smut#steve harrington x y/n fluff#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fandom#stranger things au#steve stranger things#stranger things fanfic#boxer!steve#dark!steve harrington#dark steve harrington#steve harrington blurb
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Steve begging you to tell him to cum + innocent reader
♡masterlist♡
MINORS DNI
Contains: foot fetish(???) I mean not really but like still, dark ish steve
༺*:ﾟ･✧･:*:ﾟ･♡ readmore ♡･ﾟ:*:･✧･ﾟ:*༻
Steve on his knees with his cock pressed against the bottom of your foot, his sticky precum staining the fabric of your white frilly socks, his arm wrapped around your legs, his hand resting on you ankle with his head is so so so close to your crotch that he can almost smell you.
Hes drooling and groaning as he presses himself closer against your foot, your toes twitch at the pressure stimulating him more as you unknowingly help him cum. You giggle from above him saying he looks like your grandmas dog with the couch pillow and he cant help but moan against your thigh at your innocence.
He tilts his head desperate for a glance at your panties, his face is practically under your skirt and he can smell you so clearly the urge to press his nose into your cunt was overwhelming him and hes not sure if he can resist. There was a dark spot on the fabric from where you had collected your slick and he could almost cum from looking at it. What he wouldnt do to take you panties off right now and keep them forever, suck at the residue left behind, wrap them around his cock until they're unrecognisable, coated in his thick cum then keep them in a picture frame hung in the back of his wardrobe
As steve got louder you drew more concerned, why was acting like this? Is he okay? :(( you gently pulled his head from under your skirt, his face was flushed and he could barely keep his eyes open.
"Tell- tell me to cum for you please-"
"Steve you're already here I dont understand-"
"JU-just tell me t- t'cum plEase- s- say you want my cum please please please please-"
"P- please come for me steve I- um i want your come steve..."
His humping grew more aggressive when he saw your pretty lil doe eyes staring down at him whimpering out the words you were so unsure of, steve buried his head into your thigh pulling your legs closer to him as he felt his orgasm rush over him, spurts of his seed coating the sole your foot soaking into the fabric and onto your skin.
You complained about the stickiness on your now wet sock whining about the feeling and almost crying about it. He forced you into your shoes and dragged you to the mall (not letting you replace your ruined sock </3) he hoped you would try on some bikinis leaving the panties he desired vulnerable and up for grabs.
#steve harrington x reader#Steve harrington smut#x innocent reader#innocent!reader#innocent reader#steve harrington x innocent reader#dark steve harrington
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We All Go A Little Mad
Pairing: Ghostface!Steddie x Fem!Reader
Summary: When a quiet night in turns into a night of horror...and excitement.
Warnings: dark eddie, dark steve, home intrusion, mentions of cheating, mentions of murder, blood, blood kink(?), knife play, smut, DUBCON, oral sex (m recieving), manhandling, hair pulling, voyeurism, unprotected sex, double penetration, threesome, eddie calls reader a 'whore' and a 'slut'.
A/N: HAPPY (slightly late) HALLOWEEN!!! I've literally been so excited for you all to read this fic so I hope you like it!! <3
Word Count: 3.2K
A Nightmare On Elm Street was still playing on the television as you cowered behind your couch, a knife in hand as you waited in the dark.
You could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you lifted up slightly to look towards your front hallway, the phone discarded on the coffee table in front of the couch.
Someone had been stalking your house, and the asshole had even been arrogant enough to call you. You suspected it was the same person who'd killed two people last night, considering what they had told you before you hung up.
The suspected killer had initially insisted that you play a game with him, started asking you questions about horror movies. And once you finally asked what he wanted, he'd simply said, "I wanna see what your insides look like", to which you immediately hung up, proceeding to rush into the kitchen to retrieve a knife.
The door hadn't been opened yet and you hadn't heard anything in the house, but you weren't about to go and investigate. You'd seen plenty of horror movies to know that that was probably one of the worst things you could do in this situation. So you'd simply decided to stay where you were, waiting silently behind the couch with a knife.
A couple more minutes probably passed before you heard the sound of glass smashing in the kitchen, and you swore your heart had stopped beating right then, your breath catching in your throat as you sank closer to the floor.
You held the knife tighter in your hand then, your eyes burning with tears as you waited. You wanted to be brave, but you just couldn't prevent the fear from overtaking you, silent tears finally slipping from your eyes.
You listened to the footsteps that echoed around your kitchen, before the sound of them eventually came into the hall, which wasn't far from where you were hiding. You didn't know what to do. If you remained where you were, the killer would find you easily. It was basically a free invitation to kill you. The only other option you had at this moment was to jump out and attack the killer yourself, in the hope that you'd be taking him by surprise.
The footsteps had entered the living room now, a few feet away from where you were behind the couch. And the movie was still playing on the television, the sound of Freddy Krueger's razor blades piercing your ears as you prepared to make your move.
You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you tightened your grip around the handle of the blade. And then you forced yourself up off the floor, screaming as you lunged at the killer with your knife. You managed to knock them off balance, which gave you enough time to make it to your front door.
But you were not yet safe, because when you yanked the door open, you were met with the dark, empty eyes of a ghost mask. The second intruder stepped forward, and in one swift motion, he had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, your back flush against his chest as he trapped you against him.
"Shit, sweetheart." A familiar voice suddenly spoke. "Never thought you'd have the balls to face a killer like that. It's kinda hot."
When he sauntered in from the living room then, you felt like you were going to be sick, because how could he be killing people?
"It was you?" You choked, your lips trembling as you stared at your friend in shock, his ghost mask hanging from his fingers. "You're the killer?"
Eddie chuckled then before giving you a mock frown, gesturing towards the man behind you. "Can't let me take all the credit. What about pretty boy over there?"
"What?"
The person behind you released you then, shoving you towards Eddie. And before you were even able to register what was happening, he was removing his mask, the second shock of the night hitting you when he revealed his face.
"Surprise, (y/n)." He smirked, dropping his mask to the floor beside his feet.
"Steve?"
"What's the matter, (y/n)? You look like you've seen a ghost?" He taunted, stepping towards you now as you stared with wide eyes.
These people were your friends. How could you not know your own friends were the killers? "I...don't understand. Why?"
"Why?" Eddie chuckled, his knuckles coming up to ghost over your jaw as he hovered behind you. "You hear that Steve? I think she wants a motive."
Steve simply shrugged at him, his eyes seemingly alight with excitement as he watched.
"Well I dunno (y/n)...maybe the freak finally snapped? Huh? You ever think of that?" Eddie started, beginning to circle you now as he spoke. "Harrington finally decided to go off the deep end after you stomped all over his heart? What about that?"
"But...Steve and I are friends. We're friends, Eddie."
"Well that's precisely the point." He snapped. "We're friends, that's all you were ever gonna see me as. Just your little lapdog freak who follows you around everywhere."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"I was always there! Waiting for you to see me the way I saw you. Even when you were fucking Steve Harrington!" He yelled, seeming to become more unhinged by the minute. "Well you wanna know a secret? Huh? Where Steve was all those times he had to cancel with you?"
You shook your head. "I don't-"
"He was with me! In my bed. Moaning my name." He seemed enraged as he said that, a spiteful grin on his face as he glared at you.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Cuz I want you to feel as fucked over as I did. You had every chance to choose me, but instead you chose the guy who cheated on you with me." He snarled.
"You're fucking insane."
"We all go a little mad sometimes." Eddie chuckled, coming to stand beside Steve now as they watched you.
You thought about running. The back door wasn't that far away. But there were two of them, they were bound to catch you.
"Are you...gonna kill me?" You asked, tears welling in your eyes.
"Oh we're not gonna kill you." Eddie said, a maniacal smile on his face as he stepped towards you. "We're just gonna hurt you."
You couldn't stop the tears escaping your eyes then as panic overtook you. And seconds later, Eddie was scooping you up off the ground, throwing you over his shoulder as he made his way over to the stairs, Steve following close behind.
"I'm gonna show you exactly what you've been missing out on." Eddie hummed, your arms knocking against his back with every step he took up the stairs.
You wanted to scream. You wanted to fight him off, make him let you go, but for some reason you couldn't find it in you to struggle as he carried you towards your bedroom. You knew exactly what was about to happen, but you weren't entirely sure how you felt about it. As sick as it sounded, you felt a slight sense of anticipation as he approached your bed, roughly throwing you down onto the mattress.
"So...you've got your reasons for being here." You started, your voice trembling as you spoke. "Why's Steve here?"
"Peer pressure, I'm far too sensitive." Steve joked, grinning at you as he stepped closer. "I'm just along for the ride."
"You're both sick."
"You're not exactly that innocent yourself sweetheart." Eddie chuckled. "I mean look at you, you're not even the slightest bit scared. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted this."
You wanted to tell him he was wrong, that you didn't want any part of this, because you shouldn't want this. But you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like, to let them both do as they pleased with you.
"Shit, you do want this." Eddie suddenly exclaimed, clearly noticing your hesitation. "I woulda never pegged you for a whore."
You couldn't find it in you to say anything back to that. All you could do was lay there, your body becoming rigid as he advanced towards you, his lust filled stare seeming to press you further into the mattress.
When his hands reached down to ghost over your exposed thighs, you flinched away, but he didn't seem to care. He only smirked before nodding behind you.
"Steve. Hold her." He instructed, his eyes completely focused on you as Steve reached around you to grab your arms, pulling them back against him. "Gonna show you exactly how good we are together."
You remained completely silent, the only sound that could be heard was your shaky breathing, as you watched Eddie slip your shorts down your legs, his smile widening as he took in the sight of you in your panties.
And he wasted no time in dragging the thin material down your legs, making you gasp when the cool air hit your exposed pussy.
"Shit, Steve." Eddie breathed out, his eyes alight with excitement as he looked behind you to his partner. "I think I see what you saw in her."
You felt fucking disgusting lying here like this, just letting them do as they pleased with you. And the worst part was, you didn't want them to stop.
When what felt like the edge of a blade suddenly grazed your thigh, you flinched, your eyes falling to the knife in Eddie's hand.
"What's the matter, sweetheart? Didn't I make it clear what was gonna happen tonight?" He grinned as he slowly traced the blade along your skin.
"Eddie, come on. I'll let you do whatever you want, just...don't kill me."
You couldn't understand how you were managing to stay so calm, especially considering that on the inside, you were losing your freakin' mind.
"I won't kill you." Eddie smirked, before nicking your skin with the blade. "If you're good for us, then we might have to keep you around."
You just gave him a small nod in agreement, your gaze falling to the blood that was currently spreading across your skin. And as Eddie stared down at the small wound, he had a near animalistic expression on his face, his grin only widening at the sight.
He sucked in a breath before leaning down to lick a stripe up your thigh, the taste of copper filling his mouth. He groaned against your flesh, his dick becoming painfully hard in his jeans.
"Holy shit." Eddie sighed, his eyes shooting down to the tent forming in his pants, before looking back up at Steve. "Do you mind?"
"Go right ahead." Steve smiled, releasing you and stepping back from the bed. "After all, this was your plan."
Eddie couldn't help the quiet groan that escaped his lips then as he dropped the knife on the nightstand, practically ripping his robe off, before bringing his hands down to unbuckle his belt.
You waited in anticipation as he pushed his jeans down his legs, his boxers going with them. And when his cock sprang free from its constraints, you felt your pussy throb from the sight.
"You ready to get this wet for me sweetheart?" Eddie smirked, his eyes wild as he stared down at you, his hand coming to wrap around the base of his cock.
You could only offer him a weak nod as you waited for him to make his next move.
You gasped when he reached around you to grip the back of your hair, roughly pulling you forward onto your hands and knees. And he gave you no warning before he nudged your mouth open with the head of his cock, wasting no time with pushing himself all the way into your mouth.
Eddie let out a guttural groan when his tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag around him. He kept his hand threaded through your hair as he started to urge your movements over him, your head bobbing up and down on his cock.
"Shit, Eds." Steve groaned, his robe already discarded behind him, his jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles as he grasped his aching cock. "She's fucking gorgeous."
"Isn't she?" Eddie grinned, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight of your lips wrapped around him.
His hands were still tightly gripping your hair, a dull pain beginning to radiate across your scalp, as he continued to thrust into your mouth.
Steve was still standing off to the side, watching intently as he moved his hand up and down his length, completely captivated by the sight in front of him. He wanted so badly to be inside you right now, to split you open on his cock, but he wanted Eddie to have his moment. They had planned this for so long, and he wasn't about to go against Eddie's wishes now.
Your eyes were watering as you struggled to keep from gagging, Eddie's cock relentlessly hitting the back of your throat over and over as he brought himself to his release.
"C'mon Eds, hurry it up." Steve finally urged, becoming too desperate to wait any longer.
Eddie simply picked up his pace, thrusting harder inside your mouth, before you felt his dick twitch, the warmth of his release coating your tongue. And as he worked to steady his breathing, he slipped his cock out of your mouth, watching as you swallowed down his load.
"Jesus Christ, you're such a fucking slut." He said proudly, looking over to his partner. "You seeing this Steve?"
Steve nodded, a wicked smirk on his face as he advanced towards you both. "Alright, my turn."
Eddie stepped back then, giving Steve room to take over. And you were still trying to get your bearings, so it took you by suprise when his hands came down on your shoulders, pushing you onto your back as he came to hover over you. And you couldn't help raising your hips up towards him, desperate for him to be inside you.
Steve clearly noticed your desperation as a small smirk pulled at his lips, before he reached down to press his fingers to your clit.
"Jesus, you're soaked." He said, feeling incredibly proud when a quiet moan fell from your lips at the contact. "Bet you can't wait for me to have my dick inside you again."
"Mm, Steve...please." You whined, your eyes falling shut as he nudged his tip into your entrance. You didn't even care how wrong this was anymore, you just needed him to be inside you.
When Steve finally pushed himself inside, you cried out his name, as you threw your head back into the mattress. And he wasted no time in setting a brutal pace inside you, his thrusts already beginning to shake the bed beneath you.
Eddie simply smiled at the sight, happy that Steve could finally have his moment. And he was filled with anticipation of what was to come. He was just waiting for his mark.
"Oh god!" You cried, your hands desperately fisting the sheets as Steve pounded into you, his balls beginning to slap against your ass. "Fuck!"
"That's it, baby." Steve panted. He was filled with pride as he watched you coming undone before him. "You gonna come for me?"
You nodded, your eyes still clamped shut as he continued to drive himself into you, the sound of skin smacking against skin filling the room. You'd completely forgotten that Eddie was merely feet away, watching as Steve ruined you. But you couldn't bring yourself to care, because this just felt too good.
After a few more hard thrusts, you could feel yourself finally reaching your release, heat beginning to pool in your belly.
And Steve could feel his own release nearing as he continued to slap his hips up into you.
And within seconds, you were practically screaming, the fire exploding in your belly as pleasure wracked through you. "Oh my god! Yes!"
But it wasn't over yet, as Steve barely gave you any time to recover before he was repositioning you both, him lying on his back whilst you straddled him, his cock still buried deep inside you.
You looked down at him in confusion but you quickly realised what was about to happen when Eddie circled the bed, coming to position himself behind you.
"No, wait, I can't." You pleaded, shaking your head as you turned to look at Eddie.
"Yes you can, sweetheart." He said, smiling at you as he readied himself. "Remember what we agreed on. You've gotta be good for us, remember?"
His words from earlier echoed in your mind and you gave him a weak nod, turning to look back down at Steve, who seemed to be trying incredibly hard to remain still whilst you waited for Eddie.
And when you felt the tip of Eddie's dick press against your entrance, your whole body tensed, prompting Eddie to bring his hands up to your shoulders, squeezing slightly.
"Remember what I said." He whispered, leaning close enough for his lips to brush against your ear.
You nodded again, swallowing as you waited for him to push into you. And when he finally sank himself inside your tight hole, you groaned from both pain and pleasure.
Steve took this as his cue to move, a grin breaking across his features as he carefully thrusted up into you as Eddie pulled out. They both took a moment to set a pace inside you, but once they had figured things out, they began moving inside you easily, both of them groaning quietly.
The sensation of them both moving inside you hurt at first, but after a few more steady thrusts, you were finding that it was quite pleasurable.
Steve had pushed your t-shirt up over your head now, Eddie discarding it on the floor behind him, and both their hands were roughly kneading your breasts, making you moan loudly.
"Oh god." You breathed out, your eyes screwing shut as you felt another orgasm nearing. "Oh...fuck."
"That's it sweetheart." Eddie chuckled. "You gonna come for us?"
"Yes! Oh god, yes!"
"Shit Eds, I'm so close." Steve panted from beneath you, his mouth hanging open as he continued his movements inside you.
Eddie simply groaned in response, his own release nearing as he thrusted inside you.
It wasn't long until you were coming around Steve's cock, your arousal coating them both as they continued to drive themselves into you. And when you were finally spent, the only thing that was holding you upright was Eddie's hands around your body.
They both worked themselves to their release, and moments later, you could feel them both twitch inside you, guttural groans falling from their lips as they came.
And when they finally caught their breaths, Eddie slipped out of you, slumping down on the bed beside you.
"Holy shit." He panted, his chest rising and falling heavily as he grinned at you. "If only you'd have realised our potential sooner."
"Are you...gonna kill me?"
"No, we gotta keep you around sweetheart."
[Main Masterlist][Eddie Masterlist] [Steve Masterlist]
#ghostface!steddie#ghostface!steddie x reader#ghostface!eddie#ghostface!steve#ghostface x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#eddie munsom x reader smut#steddie x reader smut#steve harrington x reader smut#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#eddie munson x reader#dark eddie munson#dark steve harrington#dark steddie#steddie#steddie x reader#ghostface!eddie x reader#ghostface!steve x reader#joseph quinn#joe keery#stranger things#stranger things smut#stranger things fanfic#eddie munson oneshot#steve harrington oneshot#steddie x reader oneshot#scream#slashers x reader
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perv!steve headcannons? pls pls pls
Could you love me instead of all the boyfriends you get?
Headcannons for perv!stevie. mdni
Listen to while reading : wet dream by wet leg
Warnings : manipulation, slight babying, slight controlling steve, needy steve, Stevie's love sick, possessive and protective steve, stalking, face sitting, spitting, recorded sex, voyeurism, slight cnc, slight somno, worshipping, creampie's, slight exhibitionism. If I missed anything please let me know
Constantly trying to convince you that he knows what's best for you. That you should trust him with everything, so you won't worry your pretty little head over anything that's too tough for his baby.
Will lay out your clothes for the day before he goes to work, as well as having things set out for you around the house. Your plate waiting at your seat on the table, a reminder to make sure you properly eat during the day. A new list on the fridge everyday with little things he wants you to do. Read a chapter in the new book he got you, make sure you pick out the two of you will be eating for dinner, etc.
He doesn't like it when you bathe and he's not there. Steve has little rituals for once you're out of the tub or shower. Drying you off, rubbing your lotion and body butter in for you, taking care of your hair if needed, making sure you don't leave your dirty clothes in the bathroom floor and more
Steve always asks if he got your order or something similar right, big brown eyes peering into your own with a desperate need of approval and praise. A wide smile spreads across his face when you tell him that he got it right, something in his core warming at the fact that he remembered. It sends a pleasant shiver down his spine when you tell him he did a good job.
Gives you his card whenever you wanna go shopping or even just to the store, he likes having you dependent on him. Knowing that you're relying on him, the only condition being that you show him whatever you got. If it's clothes, he'll ask you to do a twirl in the pretty fabrics
Doesn't steal your clothes like Eddie does, although he does see the appeal. Steve would rather take things like stuffed animals or even a pillow, sure they're harder to smuggle out of your house but he can just use the excuse that you left it over at his when you question him on why one of your teddy bears is sitting peacefully on his otherwise plain bed.
Will play up a simple injury or cold so you'll be his little doctor. He'll look practically dead but still be mumbling about how you don't have to be there with him if it's too much trouble, he doesn't wanna ruin your weekend by keeping you stuck inside the house. Yet his big puppy eyes just won't let you say no, and that's exactly what he wants. A small grin spreads across his face once you've tucked him into your chest, after rubbing vicks all over him and making sure his belly is full of yummy soup.
He convinces you to give him a copy of your house key, telling you it's just for emergencies and in case anything ever happens. But Steve uses it for going and just…sitting in your room, laying on your bed as he soaks in the atmosphere that feels like where he belongs more than anywhere in the world. Like that's where he's meant to be. He doesn't usually take anything but he will search through your stuff. Making sure you're not hiding anything from him.
Steve can't handle the idea of not knowing where you are, what you're doing, who you're with. He has to know. He just has to, otherwise he will go insane. Sneaking off when it's slow at work to call your house phone to make sure you're at home when you said you'd be. Asking who you're going out with when you tell him you plan on visiting a couple of stores. Probably telling you that he doesn't like you being alone with certain friends and that he'd rather you wait until he has a day off to go.
Will tell you that the movie you want to rent isn't available so you'll keep coming into the store to check on it. He has no issue telling you that it's out yet again so he can get a glimpse of your precious pout. Leaning far too close over the counter to be considered just friendly, eyes roaming every inch of your figure he can see. Blatantly staring at your ass while you walk away as he chubs up behind the desk.
He says he feels as if you've put him under a spell. Mentioning how consumed he has become with you, ever since the first time he saw you. You take up and occupy the darkest places in his mind, places he doesn't usually dare go. But you force him to go there, force him to need you with him constantly. Steve says he feels like he's burning from within if you're separated for too long, like his veins are pure fire. The need to see you all the time manifesting itself as stolen pictures of you, him burying his face into the soft skin of your stomach as he sobs for you to never leave him and love him till you die.
Steve has a stash of little trinkets that remind him of you. A glass bead he found on the sidewalk that's your favorite color, a small ceramic cast of your favorite animal from the thrift stores, a plate and cup set from your favorite show and so much more.
He will absolutely park his car outside your house, just watching. "Keeping an eye on you for safety" is what he convinces himself what he's doing. In reality, he wants to see if you'll change by the window again or if you bring anybody up to your bedroom. If he notices someone he doesn't like, which is most people when it comes to you, Steve will act as if he was on a late night drive and somehow ended up at your house on "accident" and wanted to stop by. Seeming shy when he knocks because of how late it is but telling you how he just started driving here without realizing it when he went cruising
nsfw
Wants you to sit on his face and smother him. Break his neck. He'll beg for it if you want him to, Steve just wants to feel your weight and have your thighs squeeze all coherent thought from his brain. Constantly dragging you back down when you try to run away from his mouth as he laps at you and presses kisses to wherever he can reach. Not caring how sore his throat and neck will be in the morning.
Asks you to open wide after kissing you and to stick your tongue out for him. His cock practically a rock in his pants as he watches his spit land on your tongue and you greedily swallow it, and have the nerve to look at him all shy when he knows the only thought running through your head is him spitting in you in other places. He'd also let you spit on him if you wanted to, eyes blowing wide as he likes the idea of the role reversal
Thinks about bringing up recording the two of you having sex at least once a week. It would be so easy, and it's not like the tape would go anywhere it wouldn't need to be. Steve says he understands your hesitation when he finally brings it up to you but that it would be fun. Talking about it was if it's no big deal, and that he knows you'd enjoy it. After all, you enjoyed being filmed all the other times he did it. This time you'll just know about the camera..
Steve gets so worked up seeing you in his clothes, enough so that if they don't fit you comfortably that he would go buy more and wear them so they smelled like him like the others. You can see his adams apple bobble with every swallow as he watches you roam his house in nothing but your underwear and one of his shirts. A tent slowly forming in his boxers that he palms at with his eyes glued to you and your figure.
Every time you stay over at his house, he can't keep himself from rutting up against you while you sleep. Hot puffs of breath fanning over your neck as he tries not to wake you with his jerky movements, one hand gripping the fabric of your shirt so hard his knuckles are white to keep from groping you. Although, at this point, what's the harm? He's already using your ass and thighs to get off so what's the point in denying himself feeling you up.
Something in him gets even more desperate when the two of you fuck. A need that's always there but usually under much better control. He needs you to tell him how good he's doing, how good he makes you feel and the way he makes you cum harder than you ever have. Needy and hurried thrusts making his hips smack against yours, his hairy chest pressed against your back with his arms wrapped around you. Clinging to you like you are the air he breathes and the blood that flows through him. Broken moans in your ear as he begs you to tell him that he's the only one for you.
He can't help but show just how desperate he is for you whenever you tell him you're horny. Eyes widening as he nods and looks around for a place to sneak off to so he can please you however you want. Steve's willing to ignore his borderline painful hard cock if you just wanna cum on his face, although he might slip a hand down to help ease the pressure. Always so eager to please yet he tries to hide it, in fear of you running off from how far he's willing to go for you….which is farther than most people think Steve's capable of…
Steve will, and does, worship you. Working his way up your legs with his kisses, starting with your feet and ankles. Ghosting over your hips, leading up to your chest. All while mumbling praise after praise into your skin, telling you how much he loves you. How lucky he is that you let him spoil you the way that he does. That he's thankful such a divine being like you uses him and his cock.
He will offer to cook for you whenever you want but his food always has one special ingredient. Steve likes to pump his cum into whatever he can, eyes wide as he watches you eat whatever he made. Cock hardening again knowing that you're enjoying eating his cum, flush rising to his cheeks if you compliment him on it. He'll just smile and tell you he tried a new way of making it, just for you.
Adores the sight of you bouncing on his cock and feeling your thighs slap against his. Feeling your hands grip onto his hairy chest for support. His eyes roll back as he moans out, head tossed back into one of many pillows he put on the bed in hopes you'd stay the night more. Can't keep his hands still, they roam your sweaty body and wrap around your waist. When he notices you getting tired, he'll plant his feet and start to thrust up in to you.
Will ask you to not wear any underwear, especially in public. Thinks its fun to stick his hand down there and play with you just enough to get you frustrated and whining. Patting you on your butt, mumbling about waiting till you get home later.
Steve always, always, always wants to finish in you. He complains about it being a waste if he doesn't, sometimes not even wanting you to swallow. He'll use a condom if you're adamant about it but would much rather prefer raw. Loving the feeling of nothing coming between you two when you're physically as close as possible without a way of crawling into one another
#steve harrington hc#steve harrington headcanon#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#perv!steve harrington#perv!steve#dark!steve harrington#dark!steve harrington x reader#perv steve#perv steve harrington#dark steve harrington#dark steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#stranger things blurb#stranger things vol 1#stranger things hc#stranger things x reader#stranger things#stranger things x y/n#stranger things imagine#dark stranger things
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CW: descriptions of blood and violence, period typical homophobic slurs/language, possessive behaviors. Maybe a little bit dark!Steve because he’s not sorry about the violence lol
For @thorniest-rose my beloved
It’s not like a switch that’s flipped when they make it out, when Nancy gets them all out. When Steve carries Eddie, pulse barely thrumming but still, somehow, gloriously alive, through the gate. When he remembers feeling like he was practically holding Eddie’s insides in until they’d made it to the hospital. When he saw Max lying there in that bed. Dustin’s broken ankle. The ugly bruising on Robin’s neck he sees on his own throat in the mirror for days afterwards.
He doesn’t remember ever thinking it, let alone saying it — enough. Something about it though. Something about after. It changes him. Steve’s been in fights, has rarely run from them in the last four years, even if maybe he hadn’t come out victorious too many times. But this time it’s like something breaks. Turns him feral. Makes it impossible for him to walk away, turn the other cheek, do all the things he knows he should probably be doing now that he’s firmly in the ranks of the town freaks.
But he can’t do it anymore. Can’t ignore it when he hears the whispering about Eddie when he’s finally cleared and free and at least able to limp around the trailer without falling over. When someone gives Robin and Nancy a dirty look when they’re sharing a milkshake while sat together in a booth at the diner with Steve and Eddie on the other side. When he hears those words. Those familiar, ugly words that taste as bad as Upside Down ash in his mouth:
Dyke. Queer. Fag. Murderer. Freak. Freak. Freak.
The first time someone spits at Eddie, Steve’s got them on the ground in seconds, fists pounding into soft flesh, blood roaring in his ears and staining his knuckles. He doesn’t stop until Dustin and Lucas physically pull him back, and even then he’s thrashing and swinging until his vision clears.
The other boy, the asshole — he ends up with a broken nose and two black eyes, a split lip and a healthy fear of King Steve (the guy still crosses the street when he sees Steve coming, when he’s trailing behind Eddie as they walk down the street together like his personal guard).
There are two more incidents in the weeks that follow, one of which ends up with Steve in cuffs and Hopper bailing him out of jail.
Charges are mysteriously dropped when Hopper finds out that the guy with the shattered orbital socket had said some choice words to Will and El before Steve had finally snapped.
It’s stupid and reckless and probably doesn’t fix anything in the long run. Steve knows that. But he also doesn’t care. Because for the last four years he’s seen too much of his friends’ blood on other peoples’ hands. He doesn’t want to see it anymore.
“I just can’t do it anymore, Eddie,” Steve explains one night on the floor of Eddie’s room, his hand braced on the older boy’s bony knee while Eddie winds bandages around Steve’s bruised knuckles for what feels like the hundredth time this summer.
“Do what?”
“Let it go.”
He can’t really explain it anymore than that.
Eddie’s brow furrows. “I know — I mean, I can guess why them. The kids. Nance — Robbie. They’re — they’re yours. I think I get it now. But why — why me? Why are you always doing this shit for me?”
That. That one’s easy, Steve thinks. “Because you’re mine too,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. For whatever reason, to Steve, it kind of feels like that. Maybe it means something bad that the revelation barely even rattles him at this point.
It feels different though from the others. That much is sure when Steve’s eyes flutter shut when Eddie leans forward and presses a simple, nervous kiss to Steve’s bruised lips.
When Steve’s hand comes up to cradle Eddie’s jaw, it’s as gentle as ever, even though when he finally licks into Eddie’s mouth, he tastes blood.
#steddie#steddie ficlet#steddie headcanon#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#dark steve harrington#cw blood and violence#cw slurs#cw homophobia
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I love Eddie Munson with a fiery passion, like absolutely obsessed, but it's important to me that you remember. Steve Harrington is my one true blorbo.
I want to create worlds for Steve. I want to put him into situations and take him out of them as well and shake him around like my favorite doll and to write a dissertation on his relationship with himself and others. I want to write fic, I want to read it, I want to consume all the art. I want to trans his gender, I want to reassign it, I want his age changed, I want it exact to cannon. I want to be Steve Harrington, I want to be a self insert best friend, I want to be his guardian angel.
The blorbo of all time.
#steve harrington#steve stranger things#fem steve harrington#trans steve harrington#older steve harrington#younger steve harrington#steve harrington is my one true blorbo#steve harrington stranger things#dark steve harrington#steve harrington whump#babysitter steve#i just love him
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Steve kills his parents part 1
The Aftermath- Steve Kills His Parents part 2
If he were ever inclined to try the kids’ nerd game, Steve would actually be quite good. Problem is he mulls. While the others’ brains are off to every point on the compass, thoughts ricocheting off each other faster than the eye can see, Steve treks along in a nice clear line until he hits a snag. He resolves the snag and continues on, rinse and repeat. There are looming snags obvious to some that take Steve by surprise or that he discovers later than most, but not many.
Killing his parents is a bit of a surprise. Steve woke up expecting a more or less typical day. You never can tell, can you? The mess, of course, was not a surprise. He’s killed enough beasties with his trusty bat by now to know that it’s effective but not clean. Obvious snag. Steve calls them into the kitchen, one by one. Linoleum is so much easier to clean than the wall to wall white carpet his mother is so proud of.
They go down much easier than demogorgons. It feels almost unfair to them, how easy it is. Or maybe he’s just used to having to struggle. He does his father first. When his mother comes in, there’s a split second where she sees Steve, sees her husband- not yet dead but clearly not savable, still moving in little involuntary twitches, and she is more astonished than anything else.
“Oh Steve!” It’s a whisper-shout, because she always whisper-shouts when she chastises him, too dignified to let the neighbors hear the Harrington’s business, “What are you doing?”
“Robin loves me,” he says. He could tell her that he loves Robin. He could tell her that Robin saved his life. He could tell her that Robin understands him like they never could. He could tell her that he feels closer to Robin in six months than he has to either of his parents in 18 years. All of that’s true. But this is what will make her understand, this is what will scare her. And maybe it’s adding insult to injury, but he wants her to be scared. Because he had tried to reach her when she first came to him, and she had told his father anyway.
So, obvious snag. Two bodies to get rid of. Two people whose absence will require an explanation if he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life in jail. Which he really doesn’t. Steve mulls. The bodies aren’t a problem. He can think of a half dozen ways to get rid of the bodies. It’s not as though Hawkins isn’t full of tunnels and abandoned buildings from the old ice house to the burnt out husk of the mall, and half of them are accessible from the woods behind his house. No, the hard part is the explanation. How to make his parents disappearance plausible to the rest of the world.
He’s going to tell Robin the truth eventually anyway, couldn’t keep something like this from her. She’ll be less pissed if he tells her now when she can help than a month from now as he’s being arrested. Besides, he’s confident that while he deals the first half of the problem, she can more than handle the rest.
Tagged:
@purple-lemonade @paintsplatteredandimperfect @suikatto @rajumat
#steve harrington#dark steve harrington#steve harrington has bad parents#stranger things#stranger things fic
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Just want stepbro Steve cumming with your pillow between his legs tbh. Gets it all nice and warm for you, not that you know
he watches you bury your face in it, unknowingly breathing in his scent when you jump onto your bed. your head shoots up and away from the plush pillow as you reach to touch your cheek and wipe away what you believe to be your slimy drool. steve stands in the doorway, a grin making it's way onto his face when your tongue slides over the corner of your mouth, tasting his release
#tw stepcest#steve harrington (belle’s version)#stepbro!steve#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington smut#stranger things steve#st4#stranger things smut#dark steve harrington#stranger things#steve harrington
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dark stranger things masterlist
** all works are x reader (written as x fem!reader)
** i also write for other characters, all you have to do is request!
my full masterlist
everything for all fandoms in one place
my non-dark stranger things masterlist
K E Y
indicators
♜ - angst
♞ - fluff
♝ - smut
♛ - personal favorite
♚ - most popular (currently over 100 notes)
text type
⌲ - oneshot
↳ - mini - series
✞ - series
│ - drabbles
dark b.h. masterlist (coming soon!)
for all my work on billy hargrove
dark s.h. masterlist (coming soon!)
for all my work on steve harrington
dark e.m. masterlist (coming soon!)
for all my work on eddie munson
#uselesssomebody#masterlist#stranger things#dark stranger things#billy hargrove#dark billy hargrove#steve harrington#dark steve harrington#imagines#oneshots#xreader#eddie munson#dark eddie munson
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Steve has been planning to kill Neil for a while now. His plan did not include in Billy being a witness to it. He really didn’t want Billy to be there. He didn’t want to push Billy off him so harshly…its for Billy own good. Its all for Billy. When Neil is dead Steve finally rushes to him to take him in his arms and comfort him. “You’re safe now baby, I’m sorry you had to see that. Oh, I’m sorry, I pushed you, you shouldn’t have seen this. But you’re safe now.” Steve lets Billy hit him but he’s insistent in cooing at the boy. All Steve wants to do is hold him because he is safe now. Billy can stay in his arms forever now.
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29 AU-gust: Dark
Rating: Teen and Up
Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson
WT: Dark Steve Harrington
WC: 1171
No one ever questioned Steve Harrington.
He was the jock that turned into the good guy.
The hero that saved the day.
The big brother that anyone wanted and the best babysitter ever.
That’s why, when Mr. Munson and Mrs. Henderson decide to go out for dinner, they ask Steve to babysit.
Steve.
Not Eddie.
Not the local freak. The drug dealer. The suspected murderer.
No.
They ask Steve.
And Steve says yes, of course, because he is a sweetheart and he loves Dustin dearly.
He even brings some VHS from Family Video and some snacks.
Perfect Steve Harrington.
But Eddie knows better.
He saw the boy that bit a demobat. He saw him rip its little body apart with his bare hands. He saw him making Molotovs, while he was making shields.
He saw him covered in blood like a warrior god.
He knows better than to trust him.
Steve is the one who asked Gerardin Hoffman to prom and then left her waiting for him all night while he was having fun with Carol.
Steve is the one who used to put the gum in Roger Taylor's hair, leaving him with a horrible buzzcut for the rest of the year.
Steve was the one that spread the rumor that Barbara Holland was a dyke and that she was in love with Nancy.
He knows all of that.
The only thing he doesn’t know is why everyone else seems to have forgotten who Steve was in the very same moment he took a nailed bat in his hands.
He had seen him a few nights ago, going into the deep of the woods with his nailed bat and coming back covered in blood.
He has seen him looking with a malicious smile at the kids.
He has seen him hiding knives and sharp objects like a fucking psycho.
Still, no one believes him when he says that Harrington is dangerous.
Yeah. He is strong and he was more than useful in the Upside Down and maybe he even saved his life dragging his sorry ass from the Upside Down to the Right Side Up, but he has not forgotten and he will not let poor little Henderson be his next victim.
He rings the bell, and Steve opens, surprised.
Eddie gives him his biggest and fakest smile and enters Dustin’s home.
“Eddie!” he calls happily, reaching out for him.
“Hi there, little shrimp. What are you up to?”
“We are seeing a movie. Dark Crystal. Have you seen it?”
He has, of course, but he says that he hasn’t and sits on the sofa near Henderson, so Steve has to sit on one of the chairs.
“So, my mum and you uncle, uh? It‘s so cool! Does this mean that we are going to become brothers?”
“Step-brothers.” Eddie corrects him.
“No fucking brothers. You are his nephew, not his son.”
“Steve!” Dustin scolds him.
“What? It’s true!”
It is. Eddie is the only son of Reginald Alan Munson, a fucking royal name for a jackass like his father. He glares at Steve. He still knows exactly how to hit where it hurts.
“And what about you, Stevie? Ready to find the woman who will finally give you your six little nuggets? Or maybe no one is interested in an ex-jock who works a minimum-salary job? Because you are still working, right? You didn’t get fired from this one, right?”
“I never got fired. It’s not my fault if the mall exploded and there was no workplace anymore, asshole.”
No one is looking at the movie anymore.
Eddie and Steve glare at each other like rabid dogs, while Dustin is trying to stop this piss contest.
“Come on! We fought Vecna together! We are friends! Aren’t we?”
“No. We are not.” Steve replies, getting up from the chair and going into the kitchen.
Eddie follows him, while Dustin asks him to leave him alone.
Steve is drinking a beer.
“You shouldn’t drink alcohol. There is a minor in this house.”
“As you could give a fuck about Dustin.”
“I do! I care about my little sheep!”
“Do you? Because you were the one that insisted on having the Hellfire during the Championship game and the next thing I knew was that we were all going to die! Especially him!”
“You left us! You left us alone! I protected him!”
“I fucking know it! I shouldn’t have let him stay with you. I should have known that you were going to fuck the plan!”
“Me? I was the one that fucked the plan?! Because you are the one that left us! You looked at me in my eyes, Steve! You told me that we would have been fine, and then you fucking left me alone with a kid! And there were demobats everywhere! And…”
Eddie keeps yelling, holding the tears that threaten to fall from his eyes.
“You left me alone. I thought… I thought that you were different. That you had changed. But you did not! And I saw you! I saw you in the woods, covered in blood! You are a fucking murderer and I will not let you alone with Dustin!”
“Murderer?” Dustin asks from the door.
“The adults are talking!” Steve replies, sternly.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You hate him because you saw him going into the woods?” then he stops and looks at Steve “You didn’t tell him.”
“Dustin.”
“You have to tell him. Now.”
“What do you have to tell me?”
“No fucking way.” Steve replies, turning his back.
“Tell him!” Dustin insists “Tell him or I’ll do it!
“Ok! Ok! We didn’t kill Vecna! Are you happy now?” Steve screams, and for a moment everything stills.
“What?!” Eddie widens his eyes.
Steve sighs, lying against the kitchen’s countertop, and then repeats, slowly “We didn’t kill Vecna.”
“What the hell does it mean? Is he coming back or what?”
“He is not. At least we hope he is not, but we have a plan in case he does.”
“Your last plan was so fucking perfect that you decided to do another one?”
“Steve. Tell him! Or I will.”
There is a long moment of silence while the two stare at each other, and then Steve lowers his eyes.
“Eleven killed his physical form but we had to be sure that he couldn’t get away in his psychic form. So we trapped him.” a big sigh “In. Me.”
“What the fuck? You are like a fucking ticking bomb? That’s what you are saying?”
Steve shrugs “We have some… similarities. That keeps him entertained enough. And if it doesn’t. El knows what to do. That’s why I can’t search for a girl or have six nuggets, or even leave Hawkins. And that’s why you saw me acting like I did. I… I have this obscure presence inside of my mind and sometimes it takes over. But I’m doing fine and I never hurt anyone.” Steve’s eyes color flicker for a moment and then he adds “For now.”
#tumblr fic#myfanfic#steddie#au gust 2023#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things fanfic#writing challenge#dark#Dark Steve Harrington#medusapelagia fanfic#medusapelagia#my fanfic
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hurt (boxer!steve x librarian!fem reader)
summary: steve’s looking to blow off some steam after his first title fight loss, and you tend to him the best you know how.
uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.
♡ the king of ring ♡
tags: make way for steve's ego!, smut, like...accidental size kink idk how that happened honestly, steve's not an official dom b/c we don't do that anymore around here but he's a dom, little bit of blood, more biting!!, bruising.
dallas, texas april 1991
"Goddamn it!"
The door to Steve's dressing room flung open, hurling toward the wall with a resounding bang. You flinched, slowly standing to your feet from your place on the leather couch. You were carted back stage by an assistant a few minutes ago, just as the arena, and all of America, saw the referee raise Steve's opponent's fist in victory—for the first time in his career.
Steve stomped into the room, beat red and dripping sweat. He was practically steaming. Your palms slicked as Big and Mikey trailed in behind him, prepared to do damage control.
"Harrington...it happens—"
"—to amateurs. To losers. Not to me," Steve snapped, voice booming and sharper than a sword. You jumped again when his gloves went flying into the wall.
He flattened his damp hair against his skull, fingers jumping and arms buzzing. You could see it brewing on his face—he was going to explode. His jaw clenched, his eyes darted around the room, he began to pace. Tick, tick, tick. It was only a matter of time before he'd burst.
"It's one loss, Steve," you piped up, stepping toward him to comfort. "It's really not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of—"
"Undefeated, Libby. Y' know what undefeated fuckin' means?"
You felt the strain of muscles in your face, how gravity pulled them downward. Big, hands on his hips and head cocked disapprovingly, glanced at you. It was getting easier to spot the cracks between the pair of you these days.
"Steve," you sighed, gathering his gloves from the floor to place them in his bag. "I'm just saying—"
"—I'm not supposed to fucking lose! And maybe I wouldn't 've, if you did your fuckin' research."
You craned to look over your shoulder, finding Steve's gaze on his coach. Steve had taken a step closer, now toe to toe with a man much larger than him. Big—graced with a name that, in all reality, didn't do the sheer size of him justice—fixed Steve with a steady, unimpressed stare. But the thing about Steve when he was angry? Truly angry, seething, seeing black.
He'd fight anyone just to feel release.
"Come on, man," Big huffed, head shaking.
You zipped up Steve's duffel, sinking down on the couch again to rub your temples. This was going to be a long night.
"He was a switch hitter. Woulda been a good thing to know...don't you think? Huh?" Steve sneered, looking up his nose at his coach.
Big held his hands up in surrender. "These things happen, Harrington—"
"Not. To. Me."
The room fell to a ringing silence. Mikey lingered near the door, anxiously petting his mustache. The paparazzi were waiting, huddled at the end of the tunnel for a snap of Steve, 'The King of the Ring' Harrington's first loss. He had a post-fight conference in forty minutes. The endorsement representatives would be coming by to offer their pitiful condolences that you knew would only enrage him.
"They don't fuckin' happen to me," Steve growled, pounding at his glistening, heaving chest with a gauze-wrapped fist.
Big just shrugged, watching Steve turn to stomp your way. You stood, reaching for his arms. All you wanted was to comfort him, soothe him, bring him back to that grumpy but agreeable Steve you all knew. You'd never seen him like this—because he'd never been like this. He'd never lost.
Big inched forward on one foot, but when Steve was merely stiff and silent in your gentle, stroking touch, the coach backed away toward the door. He was always a little cautious after the incident in New York last year. He didn't like the way Steve grabbed you, and he didn't like the way he kept doing it ever since.
Mikey opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish, searching for something to say but too afraid to muster it into words. Steve looked murderous. His huffing and puffing was so loud you worried he'd start to hyperventilate.
"Try to cool it before the cameras start, would you?" Big opened the door, turning to direct a pointed look Steve's way.
Steve, facing you but glaring over your head at the wall, turned sharply toward his coach. "Fuck you."
The door muffled Big's sigh, and you parroted the sound as Mikey disappeared behind him and Steve immediately ripped away from you. Your hands fell to your sides limply, chest squeezing tight.
"Steve—"
"—m' showering."
You took a small step after him toward the showers. "But—"
He stomped off, sneakers slapping on the damp tile. He disappeared around the corner, and you deflated in the center of the dressing room with a frown. When the stream of water hissed, you sank back down on the couch and waited, eyes aching and head pounding, a sour taste like acid in your mouth.
♡ ♡
Steve skipped the press conference. The press would call him a sore loser, his opponent would look like a gracious, genuine fighter, and his endorsements would call Mikey berating and scolding him for his client's actions.
But Steve didn't care. He couldn't face a crowd of reporters and paparazzi as a loser. A failure. He'd face them as a winner, or nothing at all.
They called him The King. His crown was starting to fall. You just wished he could step down from the throne every once in a while.
On the ride home, you reached for his hand and flinched when he flicked yours back into your lap. You searched for his eyes but met only the side of his face. Those hard cheekbones, purpled and blued; that swollen brow bone, torn at the corner and weeping red. His lip was fat and he kept running his tongue over the slit in the righthand corner. You knew he was reveling in the sting, bathing in the pain. He needed it when his fists started shaking like this.
Yet despite the visceral fury physically steaming off him, he was eerily...calm. Calm for Steve, calm for a man with a head as a hot as hell itself.
When Steve was silent like this, you knew a nightmare was brewing.
The car pulled in front of the hotel doors, and Steve yanked your door open with such monstrous force that you worried it would come right off the hinges. Some men had a Midas touch. Steve's was Herculean.
He was silent in the elevator, huffing only short, sharp breaths through his nose. He was silent through the hall, stomping with long, bounding strides. He was silent when he slammed the hotel door after you and tossed his duffel on the velvet chaise lounge near the bar. He was silent as he eased back against the black marble and crossed his arms.
You slowly slipped off your heels, hooking your fingers in the straps to bring them toward your luggage in the other room. You eyed him carefully as you passed him, breezing by in a whiff of sweet, citrusy perfume. The diamonds in your ears flashed his eye with a streak of white, catching the lamplight on the end table.
You were nearly to your destination when his gruff voice cut through the tender quiet.
"C'mere."
You paused, surprised just by the sound of his voice. You turned halfway, digesting his demand. Stern, rigid, empty. It mirrored his expression: emotionless. Your heels dangled near your thigh, fingers curling tighter around the straps.
Steve lifted his chin, eyes rolling away from the floor to fix steady on you. They held that heavy-hooded look you were always wary of. He had his fists tucked under his biceps, enlarging the bulging muscles, protruding the overworked veins. The thin black cotton stretched across his body strained.
Your cheeks flamed and your insides wriggled about the same way they do when he whispers in your ear. You stepped your legs a little closer to each other, tightening between your thighs.
"Steve, I—"
"—come. here."
You held his gaze, face half shadowed by the dark side of the room, brightened by the gentle lamplight on the other. His chest rose and fell steadily, and yours struggled with every inhale. He didn't twitch an inch, didn't move a muscle. The solidity to his steadiness always unnerved you. Right now, it made you want to take a bite of his bicep, where the skin was warm and firm and you knew it would taste like salty sweat.
Right now, the way he was staring at you like you had no other choice but to come to him—like he knew you would listen to him because he had such a deep, clawing, biblically powerful hold over you—made you want to devour him.
You dropped your heels on the carpet, where they landed with a muffled thud. You took small, breezy steps toward him. You felt like you were gliding. You felt so much smaller than you were, so minuscule and tiny under his pinning stare. You felt like he could cup you into his hands and crush you, and something about that thought made you tingle.
You came to a stop when your toes brushed his boots, sweaty sneakers discarded in his gym bag. Palms sticky at your sides, fingers grasping for the hem of your black dress, you tipped your head back to meet his gaze when he slipped one hand from under his arm and tucked it under your chin. Propped between his index and thumb, you let him tug you closer—urge you with just the gentlest of pressure. Your stomach pressed against his belt, and the way his head tipped to gaze down at you made your breath hitch.
Still resting against the marble, Steve seemed cool and eased as he bent to meet your mouth. You trembled on the tops of your toes, too impatient to wait for him to meet you, too desperate to find his lips and taste them. He'd never tell you, but he found it sweet, how mindlessly eager you got for even the smallest of his affections.
Your eyes sank closed when your mouths touched. Gently at first, but with an inch from Steve, his mouth molded against yours with a firmness most like his usual affections. A firmness unyielding, leaving no room for breath and no space for escape. But you were happily pliant to his hand spreading to hold your jaw in his wide palm, nearly sighing in relief when he finally switched from impassively cool to the Steve you knew:
Forceful. Mean. Rough.
His tongue swept your bottom lip like the tickle of a feather, though your giggle became a strangled whimper when his spare hand came to gather the hair at the nape of your neck. Free from confines and soft from hotel shampoo, it was a welcome feeling in his palm, and like he couldn't stop himself from reaching for more of it, he yanked. Fist curled tight against your scalp at the back of your head near your neck, he tugged just once—hard.
You popped away from his mouth with a wet smack and a scratchy whine, catching flashes of striped wallpaper before his mouth attached to your neck and sent you flying into blurriness. You held onto him for dear life, hands leaving splotchy white marks on his biceps. And just as you suspected: they were hot and soft, stiff and massive.
He latched onto the column of your throat with a suction like a vacuum, and you caught glimmers of starlight as he lapped and nipped. His teeth scraped the wet mark when he pulled away, and your body gave a convulsing shiver that, this time, made him exhale a chuckle against your skin. His nose slid through the slick spit, gliding across your throat and up your chin, brushing your cheek when he met your mouth again. His hand returned to your jaw to squeeze, the other still firmly planted in your hair. Your scalp began to buzz in a way that felt like a dead tingle.
The kiss was delicate this time. Careful, precise, like he was worried he'd break you. But Steve never worried about breaking you. He liked you that way. He loved how much you needed him to make sense of you.
Steve slowly pulled back, waiting until your eyes fluttered open and blinked at him with slow, breathless beats before rubbing the pad of his thumb over your swollen mouth. His own seemed a little larger, and as he tipped his head toward the light, you realized his lip had split open again with the force of his kiss. Your tongue immediately sought the remnants on your mouth, relieved to locate the metallic taste just past your bottom lip on your chin.
Steve's lip twitched at that.
"On the bed, baby." His voice was so soft that you were sure you'd fabricated it.
But then he let go of your hair and dropped his hands to his sides, and before he could blink in that expectant, impatient way, you spun around and hurried toward the bed. You were on your knees and about to reach for your zipper when Steve caught your wrists. It was the smack of skin on skin that made you freeze, catching his eye to find it empty again.
"Ah-ah," he scolded gruffly. "Hands down. I'll do it."
He released you and you obeyed, lowering your hands to your sides. Steve inched closer, and your head met his chest as he curled over the front of you to find the back. You inhaled quietly, searching for his scent. Muddled soap and heavy sweat, a cigarette smoked in the lot on the way to the cab. You brought your hands to his stomach and slipped them under his skirt, sweeping them across his muscular sides. He twitched, chuckling deeply despite himself against your neck. Your zipper snicked as it escaped your spine and fell to your tailbone, and your dress pooled in your lap as Steve stood tall again.
You tipped your head back to gaze at him, cheeks swollen with heat and lip caught between your teeth. Your hands were still under his shirt, still gripping him like a toy. He gave you it, pulling his shirt over his head with a tug of the back collar. It flew across the room in a dash of black fabric, and then you were gazing at his lean-cut muscles peppered with black and blue and a few fading greens. His stomach flexed when you brought your fingers to circle the nearest bruise, a grunt balling in his throat.
You returned both hands to his sides, right above his belt. Leaning forward on your knees, you pressed your mouth to the warm patch of skin where blood pooled and painted him colorful. You puckered a gentle kiss. Steve swallowed, jeans tightening. Mouth still pressed against him, you lifted your eyes to gauge his expression and he felt like he could burst.
His hands slid into your hair, pushing your head back with a grip on both sides. You rubbed your thumbs into his muscles, massaging the strain.
"Does it hurt?"
He eased his grip on the right side of your face and brushed your hair behind your ear. He stroked your cheek with the back of his knuckles, head cocking toward his shoulder. The scabs of a bare-knuckle practice scratched the skin on your face in the nicest way. He still smelled like blood.
"I like it to," he said.
You pushed off on your heels, nose brushing his chin as you inched closer to his height. He slid your hair over your shoulder to bare your neck, placing the breeze of his knuckles there.
"Me too."
Steve's eyes snapped away from your neck toward your own, a brief flash of surprise seeping through the brutish void. When you gnawed on your lip and danced your fingers over the firm leather of his belt, he let the surprise slip away as swiftly as it came.
In its place came the animalistic need to tear you apart.
He pushed your hands away without a word, and you sank back down to your heels on the mattress, watching with round, welled up eyes as he undid his belt. The buckle clinked and hung loose at his pelvis. The zipper snicked. The denim of his jeans whooshed down his legs. In only his boxers, tight against him and leaving nothing to the imagination, he resumed his hold on your face to direct your attention back to his eyes.
He pulled at the sleeve of your dress hanging limply in your lap. "Off."
You made quick work of discarding the fabric, sliding it down your legs and throwing it away. Steve snapped your bra strap next, and you bent your arms behind your back to unhook the band. All he had to do was flicker his eyes toward your panties for you to remove those, too.
When you were naked, you waited a beat. A moment of such palpable silence that you were certain he'd hear your heart beating. With the way your blood started rushing to your ears, pumping with such forceful gushes and thumps, you could barely hear anything over it yourself.
Then you reached for his bulge, aching and waiting, unable to contain yourself. Once more he grabbed your wrist, holding your touch away from him. You reached with the other hand, happy to play his game. He grabbed that one, too, and soon he had you right where he wanted.
Though, not quite.
He slammed you against the mattress on your back. Pinned by his hold on your arms, flattened by his weight pressing down on you. Your heart moved to your throat, throbbing wildly. Your legs instinctually parted to make room for him between them.
Steve searched between your eyes, bouncing between left and right, inhaling your every exhale. When he saw nothing but bliss, he slid your arms above your head and crossed your wrists together. Gripping them in one big palm, he used the other hand to mark a path down your side that had you squirming and shivering. You giggled when he circled your navel, only to gasp when he swept two fingers down your pelvis.
He knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew every route to take. He knew the shortcuts that would bring you to your fastest peak. He knew the long, winding paths that would make you whine and cry and beg him to cut you a break.
He knew you.
Just like you knew him, and how much he needed to be the biggest in the room. How much he needed this power over you, this control over you. Sometimes, he traveled too far. Sometimes, your favorite thing in the world was when he took over the wheel.
You wanted his control. You needed it.
Steve gently guided the tips of those two fingers between your legs, pushing just gently past the warm, squishy barrier. You sucked him in, mouth unhinging with another gasp when he sank the length of his fingers in entirely. The grip you had on him was tight, and your thighs were already shaking when he brought his thumb to your clit, beating and pulsing with want for his attention.
"You like it to hurt," he whispered, eyes sliding briefly toward your bare chest before your eyes again.
You bobbed your head, face so hot it hurt. "Yes."
"Do you want it to hurt, angel?"
"Please."
Steve didn't let you wait, and for this you were grateful. His hair tickled your cheek, his breath fanned your neck, and then his mouth was clamping onto the patch of tender muscle between your shoulder and neck. His teeth sank in, delivering a dull sting that made you shriek. He pulled away when you began to pant.
He moved his mouth to your breast, fingers loosening around your wrists. He sank into the squishy fat, gathering a chunk of it between his teeth. It stung a little sharper, hurt a little better. You cried out this time, and he pumped his fingers in a gentle push and pull as he moved to the other breast. You could barely suck in a breath.
Wet patches caught gusts of cool air as he maneuvered over your body, covering you in his mouth and leaving you with his teethmarks to prove it. He released your wrists, but your head was so fuzzy and full of air that you didn't even think to move them. Steve wanted them there. You wanted what Steve wanted.
Steve clamped down on your waist, following the valley of your curves. You jerked the other way, body instinctually recoiling. He bit into your hip, then your thigh, then your stomach, then the thin skin just above your pelvis. He had you covered in him and writhing for more, cheeks soaked with tears he was certain you didn't even know were shed.
Face pinched and pooling with red-hot heat, you gasped for air and arched off the bed. Steve's fingers worked deeper between your legs. His thumb rubbed with the firmest pressure in just the right spot. You stomped your feet against the mattress and whined, long and howling.
"Steeeeve."
It burned, he could tell. He could tell by the way you trembled and closed your legs around his hands. He could tell by the way you blinked tears to the ceiling, how you balled your hands into fists—still above your head. You couldn't hold steady and you looked close to nausea.
Steve settled on his knees between your legs, free hand smoothing over your wobbling thigh. He loomed over you with an empty expression, taking in your bare body and his mouth branding nearly every inch of it.
Just as you lifted your back again, hands flying down to grip the mattress in preparation for the orgasm winding a knot behind your navel, Steve ripped his fingers away. You cried—a pitiful, pathetic, snot-filled sob that sliced through the room and made Steve huff.
But Steve had mercy on you. He replaced his fingers with something better, and your cry dwindled to short sniffles as the head of his cock breached your throbbing entrance. He slid your thighs over his, pulled you down until you were forcing half of him in. You howled again, head tipping back, hands reaching for his. You found them on your waist, gripping in a vice.
With slow and steady caution, Steve eased between your legs and mounted over you once more. He propped himself on his forearms, caged on either side of your shoulders to squish your arms against your sides. There was nowhere for you to run. You were inching close to orgasm again already just at the thought.
Steve cupped his palm over the crown of your head and leaned in until his nose brushed your own. His thumb pressed against your forehead, his breath tickled your open, shining mouth. You could see the blood gathering on his lip again. It wobbled there, at the split seam of soft tissue. It glistened and, in your foggy, fucked-out mind: it called to you.
You swept it up with your tongue, sucking with a gentle pull that made Steve's seem cruel. But even that delicate, meek suction had him groaning, had him bucking into you wildly. You released him and he followed the metallic scent of your breath, thanking you for his brief sting with a nip on your bottom lip.
'Hurt me, so I can hurt you.'
And squished under him, taking every assault of teeth and lapping up the blood, you found something in pain you never knew was possible: peace.
A simple, mindless transaction. I hurt you, you hurt me. This is how we say I love you.
Hurt me. So I can hurt you.
Steve pressed your heads together, rutting into you so deep you almost thought you could feel him in your throat. But maybe that was just more tears, pooling and lumping until you couldn't swallow past it. So you released it, weeping in a way that had Steve kissing your hot, sticky cheeks just to ease the hysteria. But he wanted those tears, and he basked in how they tasted on his mouth.
In one final effort, one last turn toward his destination, Steve reared back just enough to bring his hand down on your ass, thigh hitched over his hip to bare it to him. It slammed down with a sharp clap, delivering a sting that spread like wildfire and reverberated through your thighs and spine.
It was exactly what you needed to shatter. It sent you stumbling, clinging to Steve like you'd fall apart without him holding you steady. You weren't entirely sure that was false. You whimpered into his neck, fingers buzzing against his back. You sounded so pathetic, sniffling and hiccuping like that. Steve kissed your jaw and caught a glimpse of the blotchy bruise he left on your neck. You'd be stuck with it for days.
Steve spilled into you, raw and warm, sticky and disgusting. He brushed his nose against your bruise and felt it throb. He ran his thumb over the red shape of his mouth on your hip as he slipped from between your legs. He brushed his hair back against his head and licked the blood from his split lip. His knuckles had broken open and stained the white sheets near your head.
On sore thighs and wobbling knees, Steve settled between your limp legs once more and gazed down at the mess he made. He brushed your hair from your eyes and cradled your cheek. Still catching your breath, you leaned into his hold with heady exhaustion, placing your hand over his. You'd be just as bruised as Steve tomorrow morning, and you'd marvel in the mirror at the pretty colors he painted you with.
And the best thing about it? Steve wasn't hurting anymore. He gave it all to you.
♡ ♡
#rolly!#boxer!steve harrington#steve harrington#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#joe keery#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x female reader smut#steve harrington x y/n smut#steve harrington fic#steve harrington au#dark steve harrington#steve harrington x fem#joe keery fanfiction#joe keery fic
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Quick update on stalker!Steve under the cut. Includes spoliers. Tw for noncon in lots of ways, reminder that this is not a mutual obsession fic. The dove is definitely dead. RIPieces.
And if you don’t like it, don’t bite it 😘
Steve had found quite some years ago that he thoroughly enjoyed people being afraid.
No.
Not afraid.
Afraid of him.
Loved it when Cheryl trembled and begged him to let her leave on their definitely not a date. She was all talk anyway. Why else would she be staring at him in the office to chance a glimpse of his stomach when his shirt rode up during a yawn. He was glad all he did was kiss her. Maybe bit her a little.
Revealed in it when Janice whimpered against his palm in the stairwell. Her tears hit the top of his hand and it was all he could do not to laugh at her. If she wanted to make jokes about getting pinned against the wall somewhere the cameras wouldn’t see, well who was Steve to deny her? He barely contained himself. He bent her over the railing and whispered in her ear just enough to make her think she was going to get her pussy fucked right then and there. Suddenly she didn’t find the idea all that appealing. Steve knew she wouldn’t, not after she acted so coy with Eddie and pushed him away. Trying to act like she wasn’t desperate for him. Wanted to be chased but couldn’t handle being caught. So instead Steve just reached under her skirt and shoved a few fingers inside her; reminded her not to be such a tease. At least she had the good manners not to scream when he threw her over the edge.
And now Eddie.
Eddie.
Oh Eddie.
So pretty with the outline of Steve’s teeth in his cheek and the haze of the sedative still giving him goosebumps. The blood on his thighs made Steve want to jerk off right here in the kitchen. Make him watch. He would have, except for the fact Eddie was silently crying. And Steve just loved tears. It would be a shame to waste them.
#dark steve harrington#stalker!steve harrington#steddie#seth writes#im totally cool with going to hell
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Day 15 : will nature make a man out of me yet?
Werewolf steve chasing your little cottontail
tw for hybrid!reader, werewolf steve, primal play, chasing/hunting, cnc, degradation, cream pie, size kink, fear play, please let me know if I missed anything
tagging @randomoutsiders @omenhel
The scent of wet dirt and leaves surrounds you, your tall ears flickering in every direction as your feet pound against the dark earth. Sweat drips down your brow bone as you glance around, seeing nothing but trees among the darkness.
"C'mon. We both know you can't outrun me! Besides, I can smell you. It makes me want to sink my teeth in your soft flesh." Echoes throughout the open space, it's still miles away yet it still feels like he whispered it in your ear.
Your breath catches in your chest, knowing he isn't lying. He'd be able to hunt you down on scent alone even if you weren't leaving footprints leading him right to you.
It feels like fire is lapping at your legs as you push yourself to run faster, go farther, escape. Chest rising with every pant as your lungs are burning from the inside out, yet you ignore it. Knowing what waits for you if you stopped, knowing the monster would sink his teeth and claws into you just as he said he would if you did.
The sound of a branch snapping has your head turning, fluffy ears twitching as you desperately look around. Terror chilling your blood as if ice were flowing in your veins. Looking around again, yet everything's looking just as it did miles back. Each tree looks the same, roots covering the forest floor, moonlight shining down just enough for you to not trip last second. Unable to tell where you are, where you've been and where to turn next.
The forest feels eternal, and it is. This is where he wanted you. The beast wanted to drive you into the darkness that he saw best in. Wanting for you to be forced to admit that you're nothing but his prey. Weak in his domain. Forcing you to realize that he will always find you and take what's rightfully his.
Thoughts of how to escape his grasp fly through your mind, each and everyone having a fatal flaw that wouldn't allow them to work. He could easily climb a tree you crawled up, or even just tear it down. It's obvious that you won't be able to simply make it out of the forest, your legs would give out before then. Backtracking would just lead you right to him. There's no escape. There never was. Your legs slow as if they have their own mind at the realization.
He was just toying with you, the entire time. Giving you the false hope of not being caught despite knowing how it would end. He wanted you to realize how helpless you really are. Proving that you're just a little bunny, ready to be served to a snarling wolf on a silver platter. Watching as he drools over you.
"Why'd you stop running? Don't tell me you're already tired! Thought you rabbits have stamina! Well at least we've had a little fun, isn't that right, bunny?" Rings out too close for comfort, as if he's right behind you.
Shivers run down your spine as goosebumps spread over every inch of skin and your ears stand pin straight on top of your head. You can smell him now. Musk drowning out the smell of the trees and petrichor, smothering you with the thick scent.
You feel his eyes staring at you, as if your soul was on display, yet you can't see him no matter how hard you try to spot him. No matter where you look, you're unable to get so much as a glimpse of the wild beast.
He's toying with you, again. Letting his horrid presence be known but not being visible. Lurking in the shadows just as he was before the chase started. His low growls fill the air of the forest, practically reverberating off the tall trees that seem to reach the heavens.
The sound of bark being ripped crackles out, his claws shredding it right off of the trees as your ears flicker towards the tree it stripped from.
A rush of heavy footsteps slap against the cold dirt, not giving you the time to even turn around as dark hairy arms wrap themselves around you and squeeze. Hot breath tickles your ears from his hunched position, sniffing at the fuzz.
"I finally got my prize. Gonna let me play with you?" Steve growls out, voice deeper than usual due to his current beastly state.
His tall frame dwarfs you, even as he leans down to paw at your waist. Broad shoulders and 7'5 frame practically cocooning you in his arms, sharp claws tearing the fabric of your shirt as if it were made out of paper.
"Please…" You whimper out, unable to tell if it's sweat or tears rolling down your face.
"Please." Steve mocks, gruffly laughing as he tugs you up into the air. Holding you with one arm while the other rips your clothes to shreds.
"Look at the little bunny, did being chased by the big bad wolf make you excited?," he lowers his voice as if he's telling you a secret ", it made me excited too." He begins to rub his cock against your thigh.
The feeling pulls whines from your chest, feeling how much hunting you turned him on. Every huff from his warm body oxidizes in the cool air. His chest presses against your chest, reminding you of how much bigger he is. How easily he could simply maul you. The thought of it excites you more than it should as his rough touch sends tingles up your spine and makes you squirm in his hold.
He grunts as you shift, pressing your knees against your chest and pinning you against his own. Tearing off what little cloth is left before he grabs your waist, claws grazing across your soft skin. Your little tail rubbing against the patch of hair leading up to his broad and hairy chest.
"I wanna fuck your pretty guts. So I will." Steve growls out, drool dripping onto your chest. He reaches up and scoops the saliva onto his large fingers before holding it out in front of you.
"Spit." He commands, and you quickly slobber all over him. Heat rushing to your cheeks and ears at the degrading action, how quickly you're giving into his demands.
He rubs his slick fingers around your hole, making you look like a mess. You whine at the wetness as the chill in the almost winter air becomes more apparent. Steve's heat starts to surround you as he lines up his cock with your spit slick hole.
"Wait, it's too big. You're too big, it's not gonna fit, hold on-" you begin to tell him
"Shut up. I'm going to make it fit." Is the only warning you get before he starts to push in. You feel his groan vibrate through his chest and rumble through your own.
A moan claws its way up your throat at the feeling of him bottoming out. He wasn't lying when he said he'd be fucking your guts.
Steve closes his eyes and just soaks in the warmth of your velveteen walls wrapping around him. The way you're squeezing down on him, he'd think he was in heaven fucking the prettiest angel. Although, part of him still thinks you're the prettiest thing to exist.
Slowly, he pulls out. Forcing you to feel every inch before slamming it back into you. Using his grip on you as leverage, Steve forces your hips to meet his. The sound of skin slapping and obscene wetness begins to fill the dark forest, for anybody passing to hear.
Grunting with every thrust of his hips, his grip on you forces his claws to scratch against your soft skin as it pulls a whine out of you. Whimpering, you latch onto his big forearm and brace yourself with it, head tossed back into his hairy chest. Head swimming, you can't tell where he ends and you begin anymore. Your very essences overlapping and intertwining.
"Tell me how much you love it. How much you love me." Steve huffs out, hips never slowing down and practically churning your brain with his cock.
"I love you! Love you so much. Love it when you fuck me, so good, hah." The words pour out of you without hesitation, meaning every word. You can feel the knot in your stomach tangling with every messy thrust.
Suddenly you feel his sharp teeth dig into the skin of your shoulder, not quite breaking it as the pain mixes with pleasure. With new vigor, he slams you down onto his cock to meet his thrusts hard enough that you know you'll have issues walking after.
Moans and whines flow out of you as if they're water, and Steve is drinking in every one like he was just in the desert for a millenia. He wants to devour you whole, and you'd gladly let him so long as he doesn't stop fucking you like this.
A particularly hard thrust forces your head back against and your eyes to roll almost all the way back as Steve's wolfish laughter at your reaction vibrates his chest. You feel him begin to twitch in you as the knot in your stomach bursts into a thousand threads of pleasure coursing through your entire body.
Steve thinks he sees your soul leave your body as he bottoms out again, his own orgasm shooting over every inch of him. Teeth clamping down on your shoulder, blood quickly beginning to trickle down your chest. Thick cum running back down onto his balls and smearing on both of your already messy skin.
Slowly he eases up on the bite on your shoulder, chest heaving with heavy breaths. A claw reaching up to your face to tilt your head back as he takes in your hazy eyes before pressing a gentle kiss to your spit slick lips.
"C'mon back to me bunny. We're finished, gotta go back to the cabin so daddy can clean you up good. Gonna have to wrap that shoulder." Steve purrs out, leaning his sweaty forehead against your own. Weakly nodding, you nuzzle your nose against his.
As gently as possible, he pulls you off of his cock. Softly apologizing as you whine due to the sensitivity. Steve quickly tucks you into his large arms, cradling you in them, and begins to walk back to the little cabin on the edge of the dark forest. Whispering promises of warm baths and cuddled in bed.
#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington hc#steve harrington x reader#dark!steve harrington#werewolf steve harrington#werewolf!steve#dark steve harrington#stranger things vol 1#stranger things headcanons#stranger things x reader#stranger things#yandere stranger things#dark stranger things#steve harrington x y/n#dark steve harrington x reader
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Summary - Billy should be here with him, happy. In these clothes… Not Steve in a pathetic attempt to dress like him, to remember him by. He shouldn’t have to remember his sunflower… He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t have to put boxes of Billy’s things in his own car, taken from Max’s bedroom window because she had hidden what she could underneath her bed.
Anger settled into his core, a constant burning ember that was growing hotter and hotter as his own rage threatened to overwhelm him. It wouldn’t be the first time and it wouldn’t be the last.
#harringrove#harringrove fic#steve harrington#billy hargrove#billy antis dni#billy x steve#angst fic#this was honestly so fun to write#dark steve harrington
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Eddie Munson
Steve Harrington
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