I am a certified Jealous Possessive Fuck (jpf for short) , but you know who else is? Mr Steve Harrington.
Once he gets to call you his, you’re his in every sense of the word. He knows how hot you are so he knows how guys look at you. When you’re out, together or not, he can see the way men look at you, how they practically drool, and it’s exactly why his hand wraps around your waist extra tight, squeezing as he leans down to kiss your head, a glare in his eyes.
And maybe you’re a little teeny bit oblivious. You’re just being friendly!!! So when that one coworker who constantly is asking to hang out, takes it a step further and asks for your number, and you say no, and Steve finds out? Steve is there at the next few shifts you have together, just sitting and watching, waiting for any excuse to beat that guys ass.
And it fuels the way he takes you home that night, how he wraps his hand in your hair and whispers things into your ear
“Do you know who you belong to? You belong to me ,” he says, pressing you into the wall of your apartment, his hips locking you in.
“Say it, say you belong to me,” he grunts.
You whimper and whine as he pulls your pants down along with his, spitting on his hand as he immediately infiltrates your cunt. “I - I belong to you Steve,” you’d whine, your arms holding on to his shoulders, trying to stay steady as he lines his cock up to you.
He thrusts into you without much warning, leaving you shaking around him, a whining little mess, just how he likes you. “That’s fucking right baby, you’re mine.”