#stranger things cast

[paperbackwriter-kat]

Caleb McLaughlin the man that you are. My guy is just out here sayin “yeah stranger things was never meant to be mainstream or for a general audience and it’s always been about the weirdos freaks and outcasts” “yeah no mike and el just felt pressured to be together because everyone around them romanticized them” like I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s roaming around here on tumblr with us. He’s out here spittin his shit🗣️🗣️

[anya-chalotra]

"I haven't had scenes with Joe since, like, the first season. So to go back and get to work with Joe is such a treat." — Charlie Heaton

STRANGER THINGS 5 BTS: 5.01 The Crawl

[loserwheelers]

sound check

╰ in which... steve gets a little too loud for his own good and learns that his girlfriend finds his lack of volume control incredibly attractive.

| steve harrington x fem!reader

𑣲 warnings : smut, unprotected sex, missionary, established relationship

𑣲 from the author : this is so steve you cannot tell me otherwise!!! i love writing for steve so much

your bedroom is your sanctuary. it’s small and a little cluttered, but it’s yours. the curtains are drawn, the only light coming from the little fairy lights strung across your headboard, casting a warm, hazy glow. and steve is on top of you, kissing you like he’s trying to crawl inside your skin.

it started out normal. well, your normal. a desperate, frantic makeout session that quickly escalated. clothes were shed, hands roamed, and now he’s settling between your thighs, his weight a perfect, grounding pressure on top of you.

he pushes into you, slow and steady, and you both let out a collective sigh. it’s perfect. he feels perfect. he starts to move, a slow, deep rhythm that has your toes curling. and then he lets out this sound.

it’s not a moan, not really. it’s a full-body, from-the-back-of-his-throat groan. it’s loud. it’s so loud it’s almost comical, and it’s followed by a string of breathy curses.

“oh, fuck, baby, you feel so—shit—so good.”

you can’t help but smile into his shoulder. you love it. you love how vocal he is, how he just can’t help himself. he’s an open book, and you’re currently reading your favorite chapter.

but then he stops.

he just freezes mid-thrust, his whole body going rigid above you.

you pull back, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “what’s wrong?”

he’s avoiding your eyes, his face buried in your neck. you can feel the heat radiating off his cheeks. “nothing,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by your skin. “keep going.”

“steve, you stopped,” you say, wiggling your hips impatiently. “what happened?”

“nothing happened,” he insists, but he still won’t move. then, in a much smaller voice, he adds, “did i… was i too loud?”

you have to physically bite your lip to keep from laughing. “too loud?”

he finally lifts his head, and his face is so red it’s almost purple. he looks completely mortified. “i just… i get carried away. and it’s… it’s embarrassing.”

you stare at him. truly and utterly stare at him. is he serious? “steve harrington. are you telling me you’re trying to be quiet right now?”

“well, yeah,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “your parents are, like, two rooms down. and it’s just… undignified.”

“undignified?” you repeat, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. you prop yourself up on your elbows, ignoring the fact that he’s still inside you. “you do realize we’re literally having sex, right? the dignified ship has sailed.”

“that’s not the point,” he whines. “the point is i sound like a… a dying whale or something.”

that’s when you do it. you can’t help it. a giggle escapes your lips, and then another, until you’re full-on laughing, your head thrown back.

he looks utterly betrayed. “it’s not funny!”

“it’s a little funny,” you manage to gasp, wiping a tear from your eye. you cup his face, your thumbs stroking his burning cheeks. “steve. look at me.”

he does, his eyes all big and wounded like a puppy’s.

“i love it,” you say, your voice dropping to a serious, sincere whisper. “i love that you’re loud. i love knowing i’m making you feel so good you can’t help yourself. it’s the hottest thing i’ve ever heard.”

his blush deepens, but the wounded look in his eyes is slowly replaced by something else. something hopeful. “really?”

“really,” you confirm. you pull him down for a soft, reassuring kiss. “now, please. stop trying to have polite sex with me and fuck me like you mean it. i want to hear you.”

that’s all the encouragement he needs.

a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, and all traces of his previous embarrassment vanish. he’s back. he starts to move again, and this time, he doesn’t hold back.

he’s not just loud now, he’s theatrical. with every thrust, there’s a corresponding grunt or groan or a string of filth whispered right against your ear.

“fuck, just like that. you’re so tight, baby. taking me so well.”

“god, you feel incredible. i could do this all night.”

“you like that, huh? you like hearing how good you make me feel?”

and you do. you really, really do. it’s like a feedback loop of pleasure. the louder he gets, the more turned on you get, the tighter you clench around him, which in turn makes him louder. it’s a beautiful, messy, perfect cycle.

the knot in your stomach tightens, faster than usual, spurred on by his constant stream of praise and profanity. you can feel yourself getting close, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“that’s it, baby, come for me,” he pants, his rhythm becoming erratic. “wanna hear you. wanna feel you. come on.”

and you do. you shatter, a loud cry tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you. it’s intense, all-consuming, and it’s all because of him.

he follows you over the edge a second later with a guttural, positively pornographic groan that you’re sure would give your dad an aneurysm. he collapses on top of you, his whole body limp and sweaty.

for a moment, the only sound is your combined, heavy breathing. then, you feel his chest start to shake with silent laughter.

“okay,” he says, his voice muffled by your pillow. “maybe you’re right. that was… way better.”

you run your fingers through his sweat-damp hair, a lazy, satisfied smile on your face. “told you so.”

he lifts his head, his eyes sparkling. “just… maybe try to keep it down a little next time? pretty sure your dad owns a shotgun.”

you laugh, pulling him down for another kiss. “no promises.”

© LOSERWHEELERS 2026

[evrikka]

i’m seeing more and more of Finn and Noah here. my poor boys, you didn't deserve what they did to your characters😭

[maryscinema]

steve making the groups whole final battle plan and showing how he’s never been dumb and dustin being proud… i’m so here for this

[wildpalmtrees]

my dirty little secret, who has to know? ⋮ mike wheeler drabble , part two

content: loser × popular girl trope, kissing/making out, even more kissing, neck kissing, hickies, tad bit grinding/dry-humping, cheating, scrap but fuck it cuz im ovulating, (not proofread!)

to start off, michael wheeler is a nerd.

he's the geek that attends av every wednesday—the guy who makes announcements over the intercom telling everyone to attend the newspaper club meetings—the freak who plays d&d with the other outcasts of hawkins high.

while you're the cool girl; the girl that immediately got accepted into the popular clique through pretty privilege, the one that goes to parties every weekend. you've got the jock boyfriend and the cool convertible.

and in retrospect, mike wheeler and you have entirely nothing in common. so never did you think you would end up sneaking into the janitors closet every day with him.

how this all began was something out of mike's fantasies.

one day, one very life-changing day, you and him were put together as partners for an english project. and ever since then, it's been, well...

mike tapped his foot impatiently. you're always late. he really isn't a stickler on tardiness, but the bell was going to ring in twenty-five minutes and he wasn't finished with his lab yet.

small knocks on the door stopped his vibrating foot, and mike straightened himself before creaking it open.

"hi. sorry, sorry. someone was in the bathroom and i couldn't go—" you immediately dove in and draped your arms over mike's tall figure and pin your lips against his, engulfing him in a kiss before you could even finish speaking.

he's caught by surprise and quickly puts his hands on either side of you, stumbling back onto the shelf stacked with cleaning supplies. "going fast today," mike states, but not as a complaint. not even in the slightest.

you laugh onto his lips, trying to speak in between with each burst of oxygen you could get. "yeah, well i—" you kiss him again, "—i missed you." you smile, your hands move to either side of his head, locking your fingers around his curls of thick hair. you can feel him smile against your mouth.

he's out of breath. "i—can't stay too long," mike pants, his knee setting itself against the inner of your thighs to hold you in place (& because he knows you love that). you whine, "mmmmgh, wwwwhhy?" turning your lips into a pout.

"you were extra late, and i have chemistry." his hands travel all around your back and under your shirt, fingers ghosting your bra's hook. "fuck chemistry," you sigh out. your hips ever so slightly grind against mike, mewl-ish sounds escaping past your lips.

"hey," mike pulls back for a second. your faces are bare inches from one another. you can feel his steaming breath mix with yours. mike's gaze settles on your lips, he wants more.

"what? did i do something wrong?" you tilt your head even closer, the area between your eyebrows resting on the tip of his nose.

mike shakes his head faintly and curls his lips into a smile. "never."

you both stare at each other for what feels like a millennia, neither bodies moving not even an inch. you're scared to speak; to break the silence. he's scared to do something he'll regret.

mike tilts his head slowly and connects your guys' lips again. the soft pillow of your mouth is enough to make his knees weak. your tongues intertwine themselves together and he doesn't even dare to fight.

he's wanted this for too long, and he still can't believe he has you right here. but you're not his. and how he wish he could change that.

you want to speed things up, you want to savor every moment you have with him. your arms hug his neck, heightening the kiss. mike's grip on you tightens, his lanky fingers pressing into the plush of your skin. he wants to secure you so you'll never leave.

he wishes you could stay in this moment with him for eternity.

mike's head slowly crawls down to your neck, his swollen lips dragging against your skin. you recline your head and look up at the dim light bulb that illuminated the cramped closet before closing your eyes, consuming the darkness that let you focus on only mike.

he smushes his tongue onto your nape, wetting the area before pulling on the skin harshly, leaving faint red marks. his teeth picks at your sensitive spots, making your breath hitch ever so slightly. mike desired to leave them every where, to at least prove to someone—anyone—that you and him were... something.

he watches your neck, watching the red areas turn darker. his eyes then travel up to look at your expression, seeing the desperation on your face. your perfectly carved brows scrunched together and your cheeks were the pinkest of pinks.

no one could get you like this other than mike wheeler. not even your mouth-breathing boyfriend.

[loubetcha]

the byler lumax henderhop lineup…

[dailyjoekeery]

"I feel like I would name this cat Blue, because his eyes are blue."