#stranger things x reader

[dustineila]

— ᨳଓ . Does Love Heal All Wounds? - part 1, dustin henderson x gn!reader

a/n: this is part 1 of a series i will be starting based off of this request. i really loved the req sooo i'm not too sure how many parts i'll make, i think i'll just keep going until it feels right... >_<

content/warnings: angst + fluff, steve's a butthole, fighting/arguing, bunch of cursing, descriptions of blood and dustin's s5 wounds, death and vecna

wc: 1.5k

part 1

❦︎𓆪⋆.༻༉‧₊˚.

"I thought tonight, of all nights, maybe you'd give it a rest." Jonathan's voice is firm against Steve.

"What're you talking about?"

"'What're you-' What am I talking about? This bullshit, macho competition for Nance's attention. Ever since I got back from..."

You slowly start to tune out their bickering as much as physically possible. With the way they have been acting, it's hard to tell if they know the world is ending. Their top priority, no matter how important the current circumstance is, is winning the impossible battle over Nance. Which, it's ironic, because no one is as irritated as Nancy herself.

You're confident that you're a close second to her, though. The headache their arguments are putting over you is not pairing nicely with the tight knots twisting in your stomach. There's a bigger problem on your hands than them two right now; Where the hell is Dustin? Last anyone knew, he was en route to the Sqwuak. It's now hours into the crawl and he still hasn't shown.

You've tried to surpress your concern, but it's slipped a couple times. You and Dustin have had an ongoing, secret relationship for two years now. You've kept it concealed for so long, but seeing the lack of concern on everyone's faces has gotten you close to cracking. Steve especially has driven you to the edge. He's been unbelievably dissmissive to the guy who's supposed to be his best friend, and especially now, he's revealed he could not give less of a shit about the kid's whereabouts. God, what is his problem? It gets you hot thinking about it, and you're suddenly tuned back in to the fighting going on in the front seat.

"No, you're the one who's got-"

You decide to interject. "Hey, assholes. Please remember there are bigger problems than your love triangle? You're driving me nuts."

Steve turns back towards you, a sour look on his face. "How about you stay out of it, stop complaining, and keep doing goddamn Henderson's job for him?" You scoff at Steve's remark.

God forgive me when I throw him straight into a Demo's mouth. "Can't do that until you fix this busted ass van..." You murmur under your breath, slouching back down into your seat. Of course, Steve doesn't hear, because he's already back to defending his spot in Nancy's life.

You glance over at the tracker, seeing the connection to Hop on the flip side continue to descend.

You zone back out again for what feels like ages, but is probably only 3 minutes. You snap out of it when you finally hear the van start up again. You internally celebrate, but it gets promptly interrupted with the shock of hearing the guys' voices settle. Because it doesn't sound like a natural end to their argument. It sounds more like they got distracted by something. You look up and see them both glaring out of Steve's window.

"You've got to be shitting me..."

Steve's words make your neck slowly crane forward to see out of his window, in between his luscious locks of hair against the seat.Your jaw goes slack, and your ass gets brutally hit by the force of your plummeting heart.

In the middle of the street stands Dustin, balancing his bike beside him, blood running down his face. His nose and mouth are gushing blood so horribly, you can barely make out where his facial features lie beneath the crimson coating.

You're moving before doubt can catch up to your reasoning. You crawl over the middle console, gripping the steering wheel to pull yourself from the back of the van to the front. You pull your legs up and throw yourself over Steve's lap. He braces himself further against his seat, trying to create some space. "What the hell!? What are you-" He cuts himself off with a loud groan, one prompted by your knee going straight into his crotch while you were pushing yourself up. "Oh- sorry!" You call out before swinging the door open and sprinting against the asphalt.

You take Dustin into your arms, holding him in an iron grip. You feel his arms weakly come around your torso, his fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt. Steve mumbles a few insults about you as he recovers, before he joins Jonathan in watching the scene unfold in front of them. They give eachother a puzzled look before turning back to watch you two. You lift off of Dustin, resting both of your hands on his upper arms.

"Dusty, what... what the hell?" You say gently, your voice laced with concern. "How did this happen?" You ask, wanting to tuck his hair back but finally becoming aware of the eyes boring into you.

"Bike crash... flew straight into a pole."

He gives you one of his token sarcastic smiles, before wincing at the pain in his lips. You frown. He doesn't usually lie to you. To the others, sure. But you? This is... odd. You give him a look, a "the bullshit isn't gonna work on me" face, which is met with him limping over towards the van. Nothing. You sigh, pivoting on your heels to walk beside him.

"I've been working the telemetry tracker... come in the back with me, I'll wipe you off." I say, bracing his walk towards the van to hopefully avoid as much pain as possible. As soon as he's by the window, it's like a switch has gone on within Steve's ego. He goes on this whole spiel, sarcastically summing up the night's events to Dustin. Mentions of the van's breakdown, seeing Jessica and 'charming his way into a jump', Dustin looking like Rocky Balboa, and a whole bunch of other blood-boiling remarks.

"So, out of all the crawls, this was the one to miss." Dustin tries to talk, but Steve cuts him off. "Well done, Henderson. Really, well done."

"You know what, Harrington, what the fuck is your problem?"

All eyes in the van turn towards you.

"We are diving head first into death on a regular basis and all you've done for days is start fights and bitch in people's faces. Your best friend is hurt, was MIA for hours, and instead of showing even an ounce of concern, your instinct is to, what, exactly? Bully him like you're in school? Is being mean distracting you from the fact that, if in these last few hours something seriously, irreversibly bad would've happened to him, you would've been stuck with the fact that you didn't care? That you weren't worried? Now's not the time for this shit, Steve. Fight later. This might be dark but seriously, we are in a bad position and any of our moments together could actually be our last. So, for the love of God, please start acting right, because I promise your ego is not going to stop Vecna, for fuck's sake."

You huff out a breath and grab Dustin's hand, pulling him through the van and back into your guys' rightful seats. "Now, let's get going. Finding Hop and El is the priority." The front of the van is viciously quiet, and me and Dustin have settled into our usual spots. He has the smallest smile displayed on his face, his eyes big and glossy and drop dead gorgeous, despite the blood underneath them. You pull out a first-aid kit, dipping under his arms where they're extended to work the tracker. "Try to keep working while I wipe you off, ok?" You whisper ever so gently, a striking contrast to the way you were just growling at Steve. He glances down and smiles, giving you a quick nod before going back to rebooting the tracker. Everytime he jerks or lets out a small wince, your heart feels like it's cracking. You don't clean it up entirely, but you can't handle seeing him in pain any longer.

Before slipping out from under him, you glance up to make sure nobody's watching. The guys are murmuring about the Upside Down, Hop, something about Mike... doesn't matter, they're distracted. You look back to Dustin, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his lips where the worst gash had appeared. His eyes flutter shut, as this has been the first moment of relief in his whole day. He returns the favor, leaving a blood stain on your cheek as he lifts his lips off of it. You both conceal your giggles as he wipes it off, letting you sit back into your respective spot right after.

You sigh when he looks away, a soft pit landing in your stomach. Your guess was Andy, especially after the snake incident. Most likely, it was more than just him. It hurts really bad, knowing nobody was there to save Dustin. You turn your back to him, packing away the first-aid kit and silently pledging to yourself that you two won't be apart until this whole mess is over.

❦︎𓆪⋆.༻༉‧₊˚.

⊹ ࣪. part 2 coming soon !!

[ellecdc]

one of those days

Steve Harrington x fem!reader who is having one of those days [1.2k words]

summary: Some days you need to come home from work, peel off your pants, strip out of your bra, and pour yourself a healthy glass of wine as you wait for your friend to stop by. And some days you fling your door open expecting your friend only to come face-to-face with some guy named Steve Harrington.

CW: partial nudity, nonsexual nudity, meet-ugly, pre-established relationship, reader has hair she can put up in a bun/clip, reader owns a cat, fluff/crack.

There are days you find yourself thanking your lucky stars that you live alone, but never so much as coming home from work after a terrible day. 

The kind of day where your first plan of attack as the door of your apartment clicks shut behind you is to peel off your pants and release yourself from the prison that is your bra. The kind of day that sees your hair thrown up in an elastic, a scrunchie, a clip– whatever gets it out of your face enough for you to feel like you can take a full breath. 

No one’s there to witness you pull the cork from a chilled bottle of wine with your teeth as you reach into a cupboard for the largest wine glass you own, nor is anyone there to watch you trip over your cat and then (loudly) accuse them of trying to take you out and make off like a bandit with your life insurance policy. 

After a full day of fielding questions, endless tasks being dropped off at your desk, as well as feeling like you were doing everyone else’s job for them, you’re officially responsible for no one. 

Your eyes shift over to your friend’s tupperware washed and awaiting pick up on the counter. So, maybe you’re only responsible for one other person tonight, and it’s hardly an arduous task—she mentioned she would swing by on her way home to pick it up herself. 

You’re sliding a frozen pizza into your preheated oven with one hand and taking a sip from your (second) very large glass of wine when the doorbell rings. 

You shoot your cat a major warning glare as you make your way to the door, not wanting your poor friend to walk in on the scene of a crime (murder in the first degree) when all she wanted to do was to pick up her favourite tupperware container. 

You fling the door open, ready to warn her of the serial assailant and let her in to retrieve said containers when you nearly choke on your sip of wine. 

Because it is decidedly not your friend standing on the other side of your wide open door. 

And now today has turned into one of those days; after an already grueling day at work, you get home, strip your pants off, free yourself of your bra, all but chug one large glass of wine and pour yourself another before flinging your door open to a young man who’s looking at you like you just shouted a slur at him. 

“Oh,” is all that manages to leave your lips. 

People often talk about fear responses: fight or flight. And by God do you wish your instincts told you to slam the door in this—albeit rather pretty—man’s face and hope he comes back never (or at least when you’re clothed) instead of standing here, partially clothed, gaping at him like a landlocked fish. 

The guy’s fully clothed—the bastard—and white knuckling a clip board in front of him which he’s now using to shield your bare legs from his line of sight, refusing to blink lest he be accused of not making anything but perfect eye contact with you at all times. 

The two of you stay in some kind of half-naked, silent standoff. Or maybe it’s more of a game of chicken; whoever draws attention to your distinct lack of clothing first loses. 

A game he’s clearly playing to win. “Steve.” 

Your brows raise. “I beg your pardon?”

He winces, moving to correct himself. “Harrington! I- shit. Steve, I’m Steve. Harrington. Steve Harrington.” 

You nod slowly. “Okay, Steve Harrington.” You bring your glass to your lips and give him a once over—something only one of you can do without being called a pervert. “What exactly can I help you with?” 

Steve Harrington seems to shake himself out of something, looking down at his clipboard and then letting out a pained sound when it forces his eyes down towards your naked legs. 

“Right! Yes, well, uhm, you see. I have a little league team? Not, like, own it or anything. But, like, run it? No, coach! I’m the coach. I coach a little league team.” 

“The point, Steve Harrington?” you all but beg, flashing your elderly neighbour a tight-lipped smile as she walks by shooting you a look of disdain. Your entire apartment complex is going to be talking about the half-naked chick in unit 303 who entertains men with an open door by morning. 

“Yes! Right, okay.” Steve collects himself. “My team is hosting a barbeque next weekend to raise money for their end-of-season tournament. We’ll be selling hotdogs, hamburgers, veggie burgers, street corn, as well as tickets for different raffle prizes, and– well, yeah. That’s pretty much it. Barbeque. Raffle. Raising money. Baseball.” 

You both take a deep breath at the end of his speedrun spiel.

“Great,” you say on an exhale.

“Yep.”

The two of you continue staring at each other, and you honestly have to hand it to Steve. His eye contact game in the face of bare legs, women’s underwear, and pert nipples really is superb. He should get a trophy. Do they make trophies for that? If they can make trophies for squeaky voiced little league players, surely they can make them for gentlemanly men. 

“Is that all?” you manage.

Steve shakes himself again, ripping a sheet from his clipboard and thrusting it in your direction while busying himself with admiring the brick facade of the wall above your door frame. 

You accept the flyer, giving it a brief perusal before lowering it in an attempt to protect your modesty. Just as quickly you’re ripping it away from yourself when one of your neighbours nearly trips over his feet when he assumes you're entirely naked from the waist down. 

“Great. Just- yeah. Great. Thanks, Steve Harrington. Anything else?”

“Steve,” he blurts. “Just, uh, just Steve.”

You offer him the most genuine smile you can muster. “Okay, Steve. Well, I’m going to go put more clothes on-” His gaze briefly flickers down before those doe-shaped eyes dutifully make their way back to your own “-and die of embarrassment, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” he huffs, managing a small chuckle disguised as clearing his throat. “I, uh, hope you can make it to the barbeque.” 

“Right,” you laugh. “I’ll make sure to wear more clothes.”

“Might be best, you know, with the kids and the PTA.” 

“Right.”

“But…” His blush has migrated to the tips of his ears and down the neck of his shirt. “This seems like a nice way to spend an evening if- uhm, if you ever consider inviting company, I’d love a flyer of my own.” 

With that, he taps his knuckles twice on his clipboard, flashes you a devilish smile completely at odds with the pink of his complexion, and turns to leave you gaping on your doorstep. 

You’re only startled out of your stupor by a fur-lined body rubbing on your ankles which prompts you to slam the door, your ears ringing as you blink at the woodgrain. 

A wet nose presses into your calf. 

“Not a fucking word,” you hiss at your feline companion.

© ellecdc; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.

[the-weeping-author]

Open availability

Warnings: cussing, cheating (maybe)

Word count: 578

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for the support and reading this, also welcome to my blog if you're new here. More stuff is coming I promise its just to be announced, also (part 2???) If you'd like to be tagged just comment below.

Please enjoy

Love was never supposed to turn out this way, love was supposed to be honest, open, carefree and undeniable. Which at first it was, but somewhere down the line it turned. Turned like an apple sitting outside in the middle of July. It was heavy, suffocating, and worst of all one big joke.

Everyone tried to warn me of course they did, but all the warnings were brushed off by reassuring sweet tones.

“Baby come on, they're just jealous.”

“It's only you I swear, no one else has my attention but you baby.”

If only I had listened, if I had listened, maybe I wouldn't be sitting here in the parking lot of a restaurant just on the outskirts of town at nine thirty at night listening to the mix tape he made for me.

Steve ‘the fucking hair’ Harrington always found a way to use his charm to mask the lies he told, but unbeknownst to him the fabric of his mask was made out of mesh. He just knew how to make it seem opaque, but I knew all along I just sat and waited. Waited for the right opportunity to pull the rug out from under him.

Now I know what you're thinking, “why on earth would you do that?” well the word is tired. Tired of being lonely, tired of feeling unwanted, tired of the hopeless romantic tendencies that always made me feel like everything would be alright.

Well I guess I was mistakenly wrong.. the waitress sitting the two plates down on the table clearly indicated that, but it didn't matter now. I already knew it was too late, I was going to take it too far. The heart that once was soft towards him, and him only now pumped with venom.

I blindly flung open my car door, stepped out and slammed it shut. It seemed nature was on my side. The faint flashes of lightning flashed signaling a brewing storm. The adrenaline pumping through my veins made it seem like I crossed the parking lot in 4 steps, I reached out grabbing the restaurant's door handle before rushing inside.

My heart hammered as my eyes searched for the section they were in, but soon I spotted them well the hair I was running my fingers through just this morning. My flight or fight instincts kicked in, and unfortunately for them I didn't feel like running tonight. The sound of silverware hitting the glass plate told me Steve spotted me before I could fully approach the table.

“Wow so what's going on here?”

Steve's mouth opened and closed, and his eyes widened while he tried to come up with something. Before he could speak the girl sitting across from him looked me up and down before a sly smile etched its way across her face.

“Well what does it look like? Who are you?”

A thin smile made its way onto my face before I shook my head trying to find Steve's eyes while he avoided mine. A soft scoff slipped out my lips, and tears blurred my vision before I blinked, shaking my head softly.

“Well I was this asshole's girlfriend, but no need to worry that title has open availability.”

Before anything else could be said I turned around, and walked out of the diner. Despite him calling my name I didn't look back, I didn't turn around, and I wouldn't dare let him see me cry.

[dixondevotee]

j. byers || everclear

˚summary: both you and jonathan are at a college party until you make the realization that he may have had a little too much to drink. you take him back to your shared dorm but things get slightly heated..

˚cw: fem!reader, drunk jonathan, dubious consent, established friendship, ooc! jonathan, weirdly sober thoughts for drunk people, making out

˚a/n: this has been sitting in my notes for MONTHS,, i finally locked in and finished as much as i could.. however expect a part two in the future for obvious reasons

just by his breath alone, you know jonathan is wasted. and if that didn’t immediately alert you, his slumped body and slurring voice pointed directly to it. though to be fair, you weren’t too far off from his state, eyes glazed and posture relaxed with the help of a bottle of beer.

it was your first party. well, more specifically college party. was it even considered a college party? the semester hadn’t started yet, but the two of you were already in new york, deciding on coming early to better adjust to the city.

of course, the university wasn’t as lenient with you moving in early, pushing back slightly at the proposition before caving in. there were few others in a similar position as yours, and what wasn’t better than gathering and throwing a small dorm party?

sure, you and jonathan had dabbled in drinking back in hawkins with friends but it was never something that either of you did often.

jonathan stares down at you for a moment, swaying softly. in his right hand is a red solo cup, mystery liquid sloshing around as he moves to sit next to you. albeit clumsily, he eventually settles near you, thigh pressing against yours.

“heeey you.” he mumbles, leaning his head to hover over your shoulder.

you blink, eyeing his hazy form in the corner of your eye. jonathan breathes out slowly, eyes fixated towards a couple in the corner making out. moving slightly to accommodate his presence, you murmur a small greeting back to him before glancing back out at the party.

music thumps loudly in the space but it feels almost muffled in your ears. all you can focus on is jonathan’s head nestling in the crook of your neck. his breath hits your skin, damp, hot, almost bordering on uncomfortable. you feel a series of shivers run down your spine.

you were surprised you didn’t catch the smell of weed on him, something that was growing rare since your transition to the city. this was purely off of whatever he had been periodically downing from the solo cups strewn on the kitchen counter.

the first week had consisted of just the two of you everywhere, walking down the streets, in restaurants, holed up in the dorms. it wasn’t until the beginning of this week had jonathan finally decided to venture out, of course with some push from you. a handful of the people on your floor were also majoring in filmmaking, setting an easy common ground.

you had been less lucky, finding few people in your major and even less who wanted to actually converse. sure, there were people you were friendly with but it never moved past acquaintances. it was a miracle that jonathan was with you. imagining a college experience without knowing anybody wasn’t a pleasant thought process for you.

jonathan noses deeper into your neck, a steady hand coming up to tug at your sleeve. a foreign heat creeps up your nape at the action, lidded eyes flitting back to his slouched form.

jeez, just how drunk was he? he had been hanging around with you for the majority of the party, downing at least four cups before begrudgingly agreeing to spend some time with his new friends.

surely the mystery punch wasn’t that strong. right? you had been slightly anxious about it earlier, remarking to a sober jonathan that you were planning on drinking some beer from a cooler placed to the side. he had nodded, sharing a smaller percentage of your anxiety before eventually coming back with a cup of his own.

curious, you reach an arm over to gently prod at his free hand, nudging the cup. jonathan lifts his arm, hand bumping against yours to give you the cup in a dazed motion. his cheek is warm against neck, gaze still fixated on the couple making out.

“thanks,” you mumble, bringing the cup up to your lips.

immediately, your nose wrinkles at the pungent smell of everclear, hardly concealed by whatever cheap fruit punch had been added in. jesus christ. this was what he’d been drinking?

face still scrunched, you decide to finish off the remainder of the drink, debating on spitting it out once it was in your mouth. no wonder he was wasted out of his mind. taking a shot of this was like drinking three beers. did they even try to dilute anything?

you feel another tug on your sleeve, hand holding the cup coming down slightly. jonathan had lifted his head from your shoulder at some point and was now turned towards your face.

“can we go?” he mumbled, eyelids heavy and words slurred.

a good idea from him. in fact, a terrific one. with the growing warmth in your face from the mystery punch and his inebriated state it was a matter of minutes for your departure. you’d prefer not to pass out in some random persons dorm.

putting down the empty solo cup, you move your free arm to grab his waist. hopefully, there would be enough coordination between the two of you to even get back to the dorms.

“and uuup we go!” you huff, pulling yourself off of the couch with a drunk jonathan in tow.

he sways for a second, causing a delayed reaction of panic through your system before eventually straightening out. excellent. awesome. you had a chance of making it back.

you glance around the clearing with hazy eyes, trying to spot any of his friends that might want to bid jonathan a goodbye. after twenty seconds, you decide that you don’t recognize a single face, especially with the low lights. if they missed him then that was on them.

taking a step, you urge jonathan to do the same, mentally noting that albeit sluggishly, he was walking fine with your aid. his head lolled around, cheek pressing on the top of your head. blinking, you try and ignore the odd somersaults in your stomach, instead chalking it up to the everclear.

maybe finishing off jonathan’s drink wasn’t the best choice. especially since with each step you took towards the door, it felt like jonathan weighed an additional hundred pounds. the world wasn’t spinning yet, so giving up wasn’t an option. you would make it back to the dorms. on your own two feet.

when you finally pass the front door, trumpets play in your head. victory. only a hallway to go. you lift your head, staring at the dingy corridor with a hint of disdain. was it just you or was it getting longer? further. more challenging.

it feels like hours have passed by when you finally reach your dorm room. a sigh of relief leaves your lips, left hand reaching down towards your jean pocket to grab the keys.

you pressed your fingers against the denim, feeling the rough bump through the weathered fabric. it was a miracle that sober you had a rational thought process. usually, you and jonathan hid it underneath the doormat, both too anxious to carry it along in fear of losing it. bringing it with you earlier was a last minute choice.

after stumbling with it for a few moments, and almost dropping it at one point, the door finally opens and the comfort of your dorm envelops the both of you. the room was dark, barely lit up by light in the distance passing through the window.

you bring jonathan with you to his bed, letting out a noise of protest when he takes you down with him. cheek pressing against his chest, you break part of your fall with your forearms, finding yourself on top of him.

unnoticed by you, jonathan freezes for a moment, the air knocked out of his lungs. his eyes flit down to you, mentally cataloguing how you looked above him. unfortunately, the moment didn’t last long when you finally came to.

groaning, you roll off him and onto your side, head coming to rest on his upper arm. ouch. regardless of your less than graceful fall, you take the opportunity to cuddle up next to him, drawn in by his natural warmth.

“hey,” you mumble quietly, eyes fluttering shut when he pulls you closer, “feeling okay?”

jonathan swallows nervously, head still swimming with the copious amounts of alcohol he had swallowed from earlier. all that was on his mind was the couple from before, lips slotted together as they made out without a care in the world.

his arm twitches underneath the weight of your head and jonathan fights off the urge to curl it in, pulling you impossibly closer. close. god, you were so close to him. he could feel your breath on his neck and it only made him feel warmer.

“uh—“ he attempts to speak, choked up for a moment before continuing, “d’you like kissing?”

shit. that wasn’t what he was trying to say. sure, he was thinking about kissing but he hadn’t meant to admit anything out loud.

you blink, processing the sentence slowly.

what? kissing?

well sure, who didn’t like it. with the right person and the right mood it felt like heaven. or at least that’s what people had told you. you were yet to experience a decent make-out session, either having kissed a human wall or suffocated close to death by slobber alone.

hell, maybe it was you that was the bad kisser.

“s’okay.. i mean i haven’t done it in a while.” the words come out hushed, akin to a confession one might make in a confessional.

jonathan says nothing, eliciting a slight worry on your side. it was taboo for the both of you to talk about anything intimate, instead glazing over the topic or changing it for something else. late nights like these were usually spent playing board games or reminiscing about your time in hawkins.

it felt strange to talk about something like this with him, not in a bad way but in a sense you couldn’t describe. it felt natural. safe. like you could tell him anything about it and he would understand.

jonathan licks his lips, eyes moving to stare at the wall.

“d’you want to try? see if you remember how to do it?” he says it breathily, attempting to soothe the absolute blow to your mental state by laughing at the end.

you attempt to answer him, probably something to deflect his statement but the words only die on your tongue. because you do. you want to kiss him. you’d be lying if you said the thought hadn’t ever crossed your mind.

tentatively, jonathan decides to look at you after a beat of silence from your end.

his breath hitches.

because you’re not holding eye contact with him, not even close. instead, you’re staring directly at his lips, eyebrows strewn and lips parted. mind still not fully functional, he acts before he can stop himself.

his free arm moves, hand coming to rest on your jaw. you blink, about to ask him what he was doing until his fingers tilt your jaw up to meet his mouth.

you lips press together chastely, breaking apart after a few moments before you crash into him. jonathan hesitates for only a moment before pushing back with the same intensity, moving the arm underneath your head to your shoulders.

he curls you closer to him, lips moving in tandem with your own. your mind shifts between empty and every possible thought running at the speed of light.

you were kissing him. he was kissing you. the both of you were kissing each other. you move your hands feverishly over him, one holding the side of his face and the other resting against his chest.

you could hear your heart pounding in your ears, could feel it stuttering a beat when he parted for a second to whimper against your lips. seizing the opportunity, you open your mouth with the next kiss, tongue swiping against his lips.

in return, jonathan drops his hand from your jaw, slowly moving it down the expanse of your body before lingering in the sliver of skin in between your shirt and jeans. you shiver at the feeling, feeling his fingertips move over the light dusting of hair near your navel.

slightly overwhelmed, you pull away for a second, head leaning forwards to press against his forehead. his breath comes out in short pants, grip faltering as his eyes lock onto yours.

“are we really doing this?” you manage after a moment, unable to pull your eyes away from his shining lips.

jonathan only breathes out, a dopey smile growing on his face as he shifts his body to hover over yours.

“yep,” is all he says with a cheeky look, dipping down to capture your lips in his.

you stifle a laugh against his lips, eyes fluttering shut as you’re drawn in yet again. one of his arms rests above yours, bracing his weight while the other moves back to your stomach, lingering between the gap.

jonathan pulls away for a moment, glancing at you nervously. sure, he wasn’t a stranger to making out but it felt different with you. he wanted to be perfect.

you make a small noise of disappointment at the sudden distance, eyes opening slightly to glance at his position. wordlessly, you move your hand to his, fingers trembling as you direct it underneath your shirt.

jonathan takes the hint, tracing your skin and leaning back down to kiss you. however, both of your movements grow sloppy when his tongue makes its way into your mouth. you exhale through your nose, a heat growing between your legs. he tastes like everclear with a hint of strawberry, probably the other factor in the mystery liquid from before.

you almost wanted to moan at the sensation, instead moving a hand up to curl in jonathan’s hair. his hand trails up further, dancing over the lace of your bra. you almost want him to rip it off, desperate to get as close as you possibly can to him.

what you didn’t expect was for him to pull away, yet again, and ask you a question.

“can i eat you out?”

[wolfiee10]

Smut prompts 55 and 21 for Robin Buckley pls and thank you!

Heyyy...

Thank you soo much for requesting with Robin. You can read the fic here. I hope you're gonna like it.

[wolfiee10]

Heyy congrats on 10k likes!! Could I request something with Eddie Munson and the 10th fluff prompt? It just fits too well

Heyyy...

Thank you so soo much. And thank you for requesting. You'll find the fic here. I hope you'll like it. 💗

[wolfiee10]

"Kiss me"

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Fem!reader

Summary: after getting kidnapped and drugged by the Russians, Robin finally confesses to you. And things gets heated between the two of you pretty quickly.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, fingering (r receiving), kissing, explicit language, cum eating, mention of getting kidnapped and drugged (that's all I think)

Word count: 1029

Author's note: This was written for my 10k likes celebration. Thank you for requesting.

Author's note2: not proofread. Also English is not my first language so maybe there will be mistakes.

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Robin had feelings for you ever since Steve introduced you to her properly. She knew you before. And you knew her. You had some classes together in high school. And Robin always had a crush on you. She always thought you're beautiful. But she never dared to talk to you because she thought you're way out of her league. You were a popular girl. And you were also really nice to everyone. So, obviously everyone loved you. But Robin was just Robin. She thought you'd never be interested in her. Especially not like romantically. So, she choose to avoid you as much as she can in school. Which made you think she hates you for some reason. That's why you never approached her in school. That's why you never talked to her even when you wanted to. Besides you didn't know whether she's interested in girls or not.

That was until Steve introduced you to Robin when they started working at Scoops Ahoy together. At first, Robin thought you were together until Steve told her you're not interested in him. Which made Robin feel relieved. And you started hanging out at Scoops Ahoy more often. For a few times, you only went there to annoy Steve. But the more times you went, the better you got to know Robin and she got to know you. So, your reason to go to Scoops Ahoy became Robin and not Steve.

But when Dustin came back and you all found out from a Russian basement under the Starcourts Mall. The day when Robin got dragged into the upside down mess. The day when you, Robin and Steve got kidnapped and drugged by the Russians. But somehow you three escaped. With Dustin and Erica's help. And somehow, they got you home. Till then they dropped off Steve, the drug's effect subsided almost completely, and you could think properly. But you said out loud everything you thought. Robin did the same.

And later, somehow you ended up in your room with Robin as she was just talking about everything. You learned that she can talk a lot. But because of that truth serum or whatever they gave you, just made her talk even more and that's how she ended up confessing her feelings to you. That's how she ended up talking about how she felt about you for minutes as you were laying in your bed.

"Would you just shut up and kiss me already?" you interrupted her rambling which made her freeze.

"What?" she asked quietly.

"Just fucking kiss me" you said as leaned closer to her and your eyes dropped to her lips.

"If you want" she said before she leaned in, closing the gap between your lips.

The kiss wasn’t gentle at all. It was all teeth and tongue. Full of passion and suppressed desire. Robin pushed on your back and crawled on top of you, not breaking the kiss for a minute.

"I want you" she murmured against your lips.

"I want you too" you mumbled between kisses. She hummed at your words and started trailing kisses down your neck "Bite me"

"If you insist" she murmured against your neck and bite down on you. Her teeth left a mark on your skin, and she soothed the slightly sting with her tongue before she kept kissing down your neck. Then her lips trailed up your neck again until she reached your lips and kissed you again.

Meanwhile her hands were roaming your body and one of her hands slid into your pants. She pressed her fingers against the soft cotton of your panties which were already soaked from your arousal.

"You're already this wet for me?" she asked and pulled back a little.

"You have that effect on me" you whispered and pulled her back into another kiss.

She hummed against your lips, and her fingers pushed your panties to side. She collected your arousal with her fingers and smearing it over your clit which made you gasp. Her thumb pressed against your clit, drawing slow circles on the sensitive bud and you moaned into her mouth. Then slid two fingers inside you which made you moan even louder. You fisted the bedsheets as she started moving her fingers in and out of you slowly. Your breathing grew heavier with every second as she was curling her fingers inside you just right to hit that sweet spot inside you. Small moans and whimpers left your mouth as you orgasm slowly built inside you and a knot started forming in your lower stomach. She started moving her fingers faster, scissoring them, stretching you just right.

Every coherent thought left your brain as all you could focus on was her fingers inside you. She pressed down on your clit and started drawing firmer circles on the sensitive bud. The two sensation started became too much for you to handle and you felt yourself getting closer to the edge.

"Are you close?" she whispered against your lips, but you didn't have to answer. She knew you're close from the way your walls fluttered around her fingers "Cum for me, baby"

Her words were the only thing you needed. It pushed you over the edge, and you moaned her loudly. The knot in your lower stomach snapped, your walls squeezed her finger and your eyes rolled back as you came harder than ever. But even as you finished, she didn't stop, she didn’t pull her fingers out of you yet. Her fingers kept moving inside you, guiding you through your high.

Once your breathing started to even out, she pulled her fingers out of you and out of your pants. You watched as she bring her fingers, coated in your juices to her mouth and wrapped her lips around her fingers.

"You taste so sweet" she moaned as she licked her fingers clean. Then she leaned down and kissed you again, pushing her tongue inside your mouth so you could taste yourself on her tongue.

"Now, let me return the favor" you mumbled into the kiss and pushed her on her back.

"If you insist" she said, laying back and looking up at you.

[wolfiee10]

"Let me braid"

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Summary: You finally convinced Eddie to let you braid his hair

Warnings: nothing (I guess)

Word count: 550

Author's note: This was written for my 10k likes celebration. And as I said it's gonna be short. I hope you'll like it.

Author's note2: not proofread. Also English is not my first language so maybe there will be mistakes.

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Months. That how long it took you to convince Eddie to let you braid his hair. And a lot of begging. But hearing you beg was his weeks. It always was. Even when you were just friends. But after, you started dating he just couldn't say no when you begged him.

"Please. Please, Eddie. Let me braid your hair. Just this once. You can braid mine first. But pleasee" you begged him and gave him the best puppy eyes you can.

"No, Sweetheart. And stop looking at me with those eyes" he said and covered his eyes, so he won’t see your pleading look. It was another one of his weaknesses.

"Pleaseeee. You have the perfect hair for braiding. And I can't braid mine like that. Pretty please" you pleaded.

"Alright... fine. You can braid my hair. But only this one time. Got it? This is the one and only time I let you braid my hair" he said as he pulled his hand away from his eyes and he saw how your face lit up with happiness. Seeing you so happy about something small, made him happy too and he knew this is not gonna be the only time you'll braid his hair. He knew that if you ask him again, he's gonna agree again because he knew it'll make you happy.

"Yesss... thank youu" you said and jumped up in joy.

That's how you ended up with clumsily braided hair and a complaining Eddie. First, he braided your hair as you sat between his legs, and you gave him instructions on how to do it. It looked a little clumsily made but he did a pretty good job, considering this was the first time he ever braided hair.

And it was your turn. You were sitting on his bed while he was sitting on the floor between your legs. You parted his hair in three sections and started braiding. But he was moving around a lot which made it kinda impossible to braid his hair properly.

"Stop moving and let me braid your hair" you scolded him and pulled on his hair a little.

"Oww... okay. Fine" he said "How long is this going to take?" he asked.

"If you stay still and let me braid your hair properly not long" you said as you went back to braiding his hair. And luckily, now he stopped moving too much so you could finish braiding his hair faster. "Alright. It's done" you said a few minutes later.

"How do I look?" he asked.

"Great" you said with a smile, and he got up to look at himself in the mirror. You watched him the whole time and you saw

the horror on his face as he see himself in the mirror.

"I look awful, Sweetheart. I'm definitely not going to let you do this again" he said and his hands went to the hairtie you put in his hair, secure the braids.

"Nooo" you said and jumped off his bed to stop him "You don't look bad at all. You look amazing. Please let your hair be like that. At least just a little. Please" you asked him nicely and he sighed in defeat.

"Fine. But only for a little time" he said, and you nodded at his words.