ang3lofsmalldeath - Tumblr blog

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

don’t delete the kisses - part 8/?

landing page

a camboy!steve au

this installment contains: more smut!! more bonding!! more cute shit!!; camboy!steve; reader with a vagina; ‘princess’ is used in reference to reader once; oral (reader receiving); slight bit of orgasm denial; steve tryna be a s*gar d*ddy; caring steve <3 like steve literally getting off on taking care of u 🫶🏻

though this is written as part of a series, it can be read as a standalone fic!

author’s note: we back gang 🫶🏻 i hope you enjoy this installment! i have a lot more ideas now of where i can take this au so excited to continue it :) and hopefully i will update it before 10 more months pass lmao

You assume, based on the way light filters in through your curtains, that it’s a little after 6 am.

And Steve’s still here.

He’s curled up into your side. Hotter than a radiator but you never move away from him. Not even when you’re sweating from the proximity - of being near him, of holding him when he’s sleeping, vulnerable.

You can still feel the ache he left between your thighs.

You’d stayed up for a while just talking. Admiring. It wasn’t supposed to be a sleepover. But when Steve fell asleep halfway through talking about winning his senior year basketball championship, you couldn’t possibly find it in your heart to wake him up. And at some point in the night his lonely fingers found your side and they haven’t left since.

Robin was right. He does snore.

You’re too wound up to fall back asleep. It feels like something life changing just happened and you’re not sure how to feel about it. What’s he going to say when he wakes up? What if he regrets it? And that cold, terrified grip holds on to your chest, heartbeat quickening.

Steve moans a little behind you. Not like how he sounded last night. It’s innocent, tired, small. His arm pulls you in tighter and then he props himself up to stare at the side of your face.

You look over your shoulder at his messy hair, the little bit of scruff that grew in over his top lip overnight.

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs, laying back down, pulling you in even closer. He kisses the junction of your shoulder and neck sweetly, his thumb rubbing back and forth against your ribcage.

You have to swallow an elated squeal.

“Why’re you up?” his voice is deep, hoarse.

You smile, pushing back into him. “You were snoring.”

He tickles you - well, tries to with his sleepy hands. “I don’t snore.”

“Okay.”

Steve giggles - a sound you’ve never heard in your life, one you’d like to cherish forever - and tucks his chin over your shoulder. “You okay?”

You melt into his touch. Sweat beads at your hairline but you don’t mind. “Mhm.”

He sounds a little more concerned when he asks, “You sure?”

“I promise.” You find his hand under the cover and lace your fingers through his. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He sighs, relieved. “Me, too.”

You’re almost positive he’s fallen back to sleep. His breaths even, get a little shallow. But then he talks again. “Can y’sleep?”

“Think I might just be awake,” you whisper. “But you can keep sleeping.”

“I’m up.”

You hum. “I’m not convinced.”

He rolls you over until you’re on your back, then props himself up above you. One hand finds your cheek and his sleepy eyes search yours for just a moment before he kisses you.

You have never cared less about morning breath.

It’s like he’s touching you for the first time again. All tender and reserved. His thumb swipes across your hot cheekbone and he presses his nose against yours when he pulls back. “Could a sleepy guy do that?”

You’re left a little speechless. You wish you had something funny and clever to say but you’re simply just enamored staring up at his soft face.

Steve looks like he’s thinking for a second, then says, “I can do more, you know.”

“I’m very aware.”

“You want somethin’?” His hand moves down your torso and rests at your hipbone, giving it a little squeeze. “You did all the work last night.”

You feel just as you did last night - excited, scared, sick, overjoyed, ache-y. “That’s not true,” you breathe.

Steve shrugs a shoulder. “Well, I don’t mind doing the work.”

You’re entranced. His thumb rubs soothing circles into your hips and he waits for you to say something, looking shy himself. You lick your lips subconsciously. “I don’t mind you doing the work, either.”

He grins and you feel so stupid. But he doesn’t give you a single moment to think of something better to say.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says softly. “I’d do anything for you. Anything you wanted.”

You nod dumbly.

He smiles a little, raising a brow slightly. “What do you want right now, sweetheart?”

You’re looking at his lips and yeah, you want those. You want those in so many places. And that tongue - a ribbon of arousal tightens in your stomach. “I want you.”

“I know you can do better than that,” he coos, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “You want what?”

You can’t speak, so you reach up and tap his lips with your fingers. Your face heats up when he kisses them. “You want my mouth?”

You nod. “Please?”

He kisses them again. “Where do you want it?”

You swallow hard and spread your legs. Last night was intense but this is something else. It’s six in the morning for Christ’s sake. And he looks like he just walked out of a porn shoot.

“Down here?” he asks, finally tucking his thumb into the waistband of your underwear. “Need my mouth on this pretty pussy?”

“Please?” you repeat. You can hardly hear yourself.

Your fingers slide away from his lips as he moves down the bed, throwing the covers to the side for a good look at you. You just about die at the sight of him, hair messy and still so perfect, naked shoulders broad, biceps flexing as he props himself up. “Help me out, huh, baby?”

You lift your hips for him to slide your underwear off. He places them neatly beside you on the bed, pats them twice with a wink. Whatever that means. You laugh, taking a moment to soak in the boy below you with his charm and gleaming eyes and freckles.

And then he parts your legs.

Your breaths hitch at the same time.

The air is cold on your center and you know you’re soaked. Embarrassingly so. But Steve is either indifferent or very much into it, because he says nothing, chestnut eyes trained on your core.

“This okay?” he asks, tearing his eyes away and blinking up at your face.

You nod vigorously. “Yeah, Steve.”

He turns his head to the side to kiss the inside of your thigh. It tickles. “Can you tell me what you want, please?”

You swallow hard, hands finding purchase on the sheets beneath you. “I want you to eat me out, Steve.”

He smiles softly and kisses up your thighs slowly. Occasionally he’ll press open-mouthed kisses to the skin, watching you squirm while he slots himself between them. “Want to know a secret?”

You want to know them all. Every last one. “Mhm.”

“I’ve cum thinking about having you like this before.” Another open-mouthed kiss. “All to myself.” Another. “Tasting how sweet you are, feeling you cum on my tongue.”

You’re more than breathless.

“Thought about it when recording. Had to grit my teeth to not moan your name.”

You listen attentively, burning up.

“And I thought about it at work sometimes,” he admits sheepishly. “About bending you over… eating you out behind the counter… and then I’d come home, set up my camera, and jerk off to it.”

You’re panting by now, his soft lips inching closer and closer to where you need him. You must be making a mess on your bed.

“So, if you think you’re a perv….”

He takes a moment to suck a hickey into your thigh and you finally whine, worked up to a boiling point.

“I thought about - about it, too.”

“Yeah?” Steve sounds hopeful. He readjusts himself below you. Wraps his arms around the backs of your thighs, planting you in place.

It feels a little bit like you’re on a rollercoaster, waiting for the drop.

“I’ve thought about everything with you.”

Inexplicably, Steve’s eyes both brighten and darken at once.

“I’ll give everything to you.”

It’s the most romantic goddamn thing anyone’s ever said to you, and a second later he’s eating your cunt like it’s his last meal.

“Oh -!” you gasp, hips jerking up. His strong arms hold you in place, keeps you still while he licks slowly up and down your folds. His tongue, hot and wet and thick, soothes the ache where he worked you open last night. Your head sinks into your pillow, unfocused eyes staring up at the pale blue light on your ceiling. “Oh …!”

“Mhm,” he hums, licks so slow it almost kills you. Your clit throbs, hole clenching, desperate for his affections again. He pulls away, just for a moment, chin already slick and eyes the color of coffee. “You taste so good.”

Steve’s lips wrap around your folds and he sucks. You gasp and arch your back but Steve pins you down again. He isn’t keen on letting you get away from the worship you deserve. He pulls back to look at you again, at your glistening cunt and pleasure-dazed eyes. “Oh, sweetheart. Hold on.”

And his hands reach upwards from where they’re tucked under you. You reach for them, letting your hands interlace again. They lock into place and he squeezes sympathetically, like he knows he’s about to ruin you.

He doesn’t pull any punches when he resumes. The tip of his tongue traces tight circles into your clit and you writhe again, back twisting, whining out for him. He moves slow and methodically and you wish he would just finish you off. It’s almost torturous how gingerly he moves, even if there’s a good reason for it.

Steve doesn’t want to just make you feel good. He wants to devour you. He wants to dedicate the feeling of you, the taste of you, the sounds of your pleasure, all to memory.

And then he purses his lips and sucks on your clit.

You’re so far gone. Eyes rolling back, legs tightening around his face. “Oh my god Steeeeeeve!”

He giggles, but doesn’t stop. Keeps his lips wrapped tight around you, keeps sucking. It makes a perverse noise, so dirty that it makes your stomach flip. Your eyes roll back painfully and just when it’s about to be too much he finally unlatches himself and soothes your swollen clit with a broad stroke of his tongue. He dips down, pushing his face into you to taper his tongue into your hole.

“Oh my god, oh my god, fuck….”

The tip of his nose rubs against your clit steadily while he tastes you. “So gorgeous,” he purrs, his breath fanning against your cunt. “You ever taste yourself?”

“God - no -“

Steve sighs like it’s a pity, then goes back to work. He moves where you need him, just as you need it, like he’s a mind reader. You twist and writhe in his grip before finally getting loose from his hands. They’re clammy as you reach for his hair, tugging just how he likes, and he quite literally growls as his efforts increase tenfold.

Little unhs are torn from your throat. Your eyes roll back and forth, hooded when you finally get the courage to steal a glance at him. His highlighted hair tangled up in your fingers, his back rippling, the veins on his hands popping just a bit as he pins you down. He’s grinding his hips, too, and you moan over that - he loves eating you out so much he’s trying to get off on it.

Your heartbeat hammers in your ears.

“Fingers,” you choke out, tugging on his locs. “Fingers, please Steve?”

“Yeah?” He pulls back, your grip loosening, and he lines his middle finger up with you. “You’re such an angel, know that? Always sayin’ please.”

His fingertip teasing you is driving you to insanity. You swallow hard. “Let’s talk about it another time.”

He laughs again, white teeth gleaning. “What’s wrong? Pussy’s so empty, huh?”

You nod. “Please, I’ll do anything for it.”

His smile turns a little evil. “Okay. Then here’s what’s going to happen.”

He slides his finger into you and you gasp. The pad of it settles right against your sweet spot. He crooks his finger just right and you moan loudly, needily, grinding your hips down.

Steve looks up at you with a little bit of awe and a lot of determination. “I’m going to pay for your rent ‘til you find another job.”

“But -“

Crooks his finger again, makes you cut yourself off with another moan. His other hand moves to your clit, rubbing slow circles into it.

“Mhm, and I’ll get your groceries, too, and I’ll pay for our dates. Treat you like a princess because it’s what you deserve.”

“You can’t,” you reply hoarsely.

“Let me,” he breathes, “or I won’t let you cum.”

Your hands twist hard into your bedsheets. Steve’s fingers move slow, enough to keep your mind hazy, unable to think straight.

“Not fair,” you whimper.

“It’s not fair you lost your job,” he coos sympathetically.

You shake your head. “Not - not fair you’re h-helping.”

“I want to give you the world.” His eyes are soft, his fingers moving faster, calculated. “Let me.”

Your legs shake around his shoulders. “I - but I -“

His mouth replaces the thumb on your clit and you’re gone again. Nothing but a little toy for him to play with. Mind blank, focused on nothing but the coil in your stomach, his tongue swiping across your nub, his lips sucking, his finger curling.

“Fuck.” It’s all you can say.

“Let me,” he moans against your skin, panting a little. “Let me take care of you.”

“Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve….”

“Say yes.” His voice is rough, hoarse. “Say yes or you won’t cum, baby, ‘nd I wanna see it, wanna see you cum again, please angel.”

Your mouth drops, pleasure and shame heightening in your stomach. You shouldn’t let him. But you want taken care of. And if he’s begging for you to let him, why wouldn’t you?

And, anyway, you really need to cum.

So you nod, mouth dropping open as your high comes to a head. “Y- yes!”

If you could open your eyes, you’d see how happy Steve is. “Yeah? Gonna let me?”

You nod again. “Shit, Steve!”

“Yeah, honey,” he grits, lips still tickling your clit, his finger working your sweet spot, his dick grinding into your bed. “So goddamn pretty, let me taste you when you cum.”

His breath is loud when his mouth engulfs your pussy again. You gasp and reach for his hair, fisting it like it’ll keep you tethered to reality. Your body goes stiff as you cum, clenching down on his finger so hard you’re both not sure how it doesn’t break. Steve groans lowly, tongue and lips still unwavering, sucking your clit into ecstasy.

You feel so good, so taken care of, that you cry, hot tears spilling down your face as you squeeze your eyes shut. Bliss washes over you swiftly and leaves you warm and relaxed in his wake. It seems to last forever. You’re breathless and dizzy by the time you’ve calmed down, body going slack again.

Steve finally pulls himself away from you. A thick string of saliva connects you together. You moan at his flushed, wet cheeks.

“You’re so good at that,” you pant.

He grins, pushes his hair back out of his face before crawling up towards you. He’s quick to grab your chin and press a kiss to your lips. You taste yourself for the first time ever. And it’s hot, for no reason. Steve licks into your mouth with it before pulling back.

“You like how that tastes?” he asks, playing with your bottom lip.

You look at him wide-eyed. “Uh-huh.”

“Me, too. Know how much I love it?”

You shake your head.

“I just came in my boxers.”

You gasp, elated. “You mean it?”

He scrunches his nose. “It’s really not that hot.”

“Are you kidding?” you whisper, reaching up for his face. “That’s so goddamn hot, Steve.”

He groans, as if you’re kidding him, and rolls off to lay beside you. You’re quick to stare at his crotch, mouth dropping at the stain spreading over the cotton. He pulls you into his chest before you can properly admire it, and bumps his nose against yours.

“You’re gonna let me, right?”

Your brows furrow. “Cum in your pants?”

“No! I mean about taking care of you.”

“Oh.” You almost forgot about all that. “It’s - you’re so nice, Steve, but my rent’s hundreds of dollars -“

“Okay?”

You narrow your eyes slightly. “Alright, don’t brag.”

“It’s only fair. I owe you, remember? Since you paid for my porn?”

Like you could forget.

“And in some ways, you’re like a business partner.”

“How?”

He kisses the tip of your nose. “I can assure you I’ve cum to the thought of you in at least half of my videos.”

If it were anyone else, you’d be disgusted, but it’s Steve. Dorky Steve who’s holding you like you’re precious right now, who just sucked your brain out of your clit. You’re a little flattered, in fact.

“You said yes before,” he reminds you.

“I can take it back.”

He furrows his brows, frowns, hums like he’s thinking. “Mmm, don’t think so.”

“Well, I already came, so….”

“Angel,” he sighs, rolling you into your back, crowding back on top of you. His cock is still half hard against your core. “I can always make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

You lick your lips, heart beating so fast it feels like it’s skipping. “Oh, yeah? Don’t think you’d last.”

He smiles and kisses your forehead. “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

But he still leaves you a stack of hundreds on your bedside table when he’s about to go, refuses to take it back when you try shoving it into his hands.

“Just ‘til you get another job,” he says softly, holding your wrists gently in his hands, the hundreds curled up in your fist. “Let me help ‘til then, okay?”

“Fine,” you whisper, still feeling ashamed.

You both have an idea for another job in mind, but neither of you say anything.

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

if i actually spoke my mind i’d be institutionalised.

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

i am abt to send u some FILTH

steve with bsf!reader who gets her nails done! maybe it’s her first time and she’s so super excited abt designs and matching colours to her outfits and she feels so cute with em!! the only issue arises later on when she’s all alone: it hurts to try and cum :(

the frustration just builds and builds until one day, she just has a little sob abt it. it’s so dumb but she’s so stressed and the one reprieve that’s almost guaranteed to work is out of bounds

you KNOW steve would be the first to step up to the plate. it’s his responsibility to make sure his bestest friend in the entire world i love you is happy, healthy, and everything in between. he definitely excuses it with the whole idea of you being neither until ur little problem is solved. maybe this all starts because you were cuddling to sleep and u started moving along his thigh (the good old ‘im putting my entire body on top of yours like a koala’) and all sleepily started to find a reprieve that way and you didn’t even realise. it’s his civil duty to help you out. it’d be cruel of him not to, he reasons - specially with the way u seem to really be liking the feel of his pajama pants covered thigh between ur legs (the subtle shift slightly over to the center of his lap would be de-LISH-ous)

tehe i changed it a bit bcos while i love a lil thigh grind, this called for a little MORE!!! afab!reader, 2k words, mdni this entire blog is 18+

The nails are cute. Really cute, as Steve had told you. Worth every penny, for sure, but in hindsight you sort of wish you hadn’t ever even considered getting acrylic fake nails because as sweet as they look, they make certain activities… difficult.

It’s not impossible— sticking your hands between your thighs and getting a finger on your clit is doable. But damn, does the scratchiness of your nails put you off too much to get anywhere near finishing. Not that you haven’t tried.

And by failed attempt number 4, your frustration is bleeding into pure desperation.

You’re can’t take the nails off. Not at least for another 2 weeks, if you want to get your moneys worth, which you do. But also… Christ, you’re back to straddling a pillow like a teenager, seeing if you can grind the right way just to see if you can get the job done. It’s better, it builds you up, feels good but not great — but it’s still not enough to finish from.

You’re stupid enough to try once more before Steve’s due to come over— sure, so sure, you’ll be able to finish in the hour before he comes.

But like all the other times, it’s fruitless. An hour later, you’re left with nothing but sticky panties, a boatload of sexual frustration, and your best friend to entertain.

It’s driving you insane. Which Steve, of course, notices.

“You okay?” He hums, on the other side of the couch. You’re can’t seem to sit still tonight, shuffling around every couple of seconds.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m okay.” You assure him, eyes leaving the film on the screen for only a second. You haven’t realised he’s noticed all your fidgeting, just focused on finding a spot that will make your jeans sit just right.

“Well, stop moving then,” He teases. He leans over and flicks your shoulder playfully, laughing a bit when you scowl at him. “You’ve been getting comfortable for about 15 minutes. Trying to set a world record?”

You’re about to defend yourself with a snark back at him when you realise he’s right— your hips are still moving around in the couch, searching for stimulation. Your body flushes hotly, embarrassment curling up in your stomach. Oh my God, you’re reached this level of desperate.

Looking down at your beautiful sleek nails in your lap, your curse them silently.

“The couch is… lumpy.” You bite back lamely, voice sullen in your embarrassment. You force yourself to sit still for a moment.

“Do you…” Steve says, his voice dropping the teasing lilt from before. He seems hesitant, as if he’s not sure if what he’s offering will cross a line. “Do you wanna sit on me?”

Yes. The automatic answer resounds through you, the throb in your cunt worsening at the very thought. Steve would probably cuddle you — he’s that type of guy — and you’re close enough as friends that it wouldn’t be weird. But considering your shifting hips, you hesitate.

Maybe he would help you out, You think brazenly — and then don’t wait to consider how stupid of an idea that is.

“Okay,” You say as evenly as you can, even as you feel heat twist in your tummy. That is not a thought you should be having about your best friend. “Sure.”

You clamber over and Steve spreads himself out a bit further, leaving an easy spot for you to settle into you. You perch atop his thighs and nervously sink backwards, leaning into his chest. Steve keeps his hands to the sides, toying with the fraying fabric of the couch.

Once you settle properly, it takes only ten more seconds to realise what an utter mistake it is. Your soaked panties lie flat against your cunt and you can feel the strong muscles of Steve’s thigh shifting beneath you as he shifts his foot a bit. Your breath hitches ever so slightly.

"I forgot to ask," Steve's breath curls down your neck, closer than you're expecting. "How have your nails been? Broken any yet?"

He sounds genuine but there's this slight of teasing to his voice, like he knows more than he lets on. The television chatter before you goes unnoticed as you peer over your shoulder at him with narrowed eyes.

"Nope," You say, holding your hands up to show him your perfect set. Your hips shift a bit, almost imperceptibly, searching for friction.

Steve smiles, his hands coming up to gently grasp your hands so he can bring them closer. He studies them for a moment, then turns his attention back to you, releasing his grip and letting his hands fall to his sides.

"As nice as the day you got them," He muses sweetly. "So, not giving you any trouble at all?"

There's the beginning of a smirk playing on his lips.

Your feel your nerves stand up on end but even then, your gut betrays you, a flash of heat sent straight between your legs. You clench your thighs together subconsciously. Steve notices all of it.

"What are you getting at?" You huff, trying to retain your composure — but fuck, you've shifted around again and the seam of your jeans is in the perfect position. You can feel yourself growing wetter, feel your nipples start to peak beneath your shirt. A gasp claws out your throat without permission.

"Well," Steve starts, unable to hide his smirk this time. His hands move up, just lightly to dance at either side of your hips. Desire churns within you, fiery hot. "I've got a hunch, is all."

"A hunch?" You say, much breathier than you intend. "About- about what?"

Steve's hands finally touch grasp your hips, applying slight pressure down as he pushes his thigh up from below — all of it creating a delicious burst of pleasure that licks right up your spine. Your lips part and the tiniest noise comes out, hot and needy, as you grind down on his thigh.

"Holy shit," Steve breathes behind you. "I was right."

You're burning up from the inside, embarrassment entirely intertwined with your overwhelming lust.

"Steve," You say, voice still all pitiful. You sort of feel like crying. "I didn't mean to — I — fuck,"

You make a move to get off his lap, to rid you both of this awkward situation but the moment your hips rise, Steve's hands are there, keeping you down.

"No," He rasps, quick to calm you. "No, let me help you. Lemme help, I wanna help."

"Help?" You echo, confusion and relief swirling together in you. There's still this ineffable embarrassment you can't contain, even as you sink back down onto his lap. The pressure returns between your legs, sweet and maddening all at once.

"Yeah," Steve murmurs, his hands sliding from their place on your hips down to your thighs. You tremble lightly, too keyed up in your desperation to pay attention to the part that's worried about your friendship.

One hand coaxes your legs apart and the other draws a line up the inside of your thigh, tender and slow. You squirm — and can't hold in your sigh as his big hand cups your heat.

"You want help?" He asks, voice low in a way you haven't ever hear before. He presses his palm harder against your cunt, rubbing your clit in just the right way, and you hips twitch forward instinctively.

"Yes." You sigh, the word drenched in a plea. You nod your head fervently, chest rising and falling fast as your body seems to hum like a livewire, realising what's being offered. "Yes, please."

Steve groans and you feel it reverberate behind you, a rumble deep in his chest. You sink further back into him, you hands at your sides as you watch his own hands toy with you.

The hand keeping your legs apart moves, reaching up to undo the button of your shorts and your hips lift to help him push them down. You kick them off thoughtlessly, far more focused on where Steve will put his hands next. Watching closely, your gut fuels with heat as he pushes your thighs far enough apart that your calves hook over his knees, keeping you spread.

His right hand returns to your thigh, tucking beneath it to pull your legs apart wider. All the while, he’s making soft noises of approval in your ear— and when his left hand trails down and flattens against your ruined panties, he moans.

"Christ, honey," He murmurs, his own breath a bit jagged. "She's just drooling for it, isn't she? How long have you had them again?"

Your nails, he means. The answers stutters out of you as he begins circling one fingers over the cloth, up and down, up and down. "L-Like nearly two weeks."

"Aw," Steve coos at your answer. "And the whole time...?"

He doesn't need to finish his question. You're nodding anyway, delirious and desperate for him to do something with his fingers. He seems to hear your silent plea because right at that moment, his thumb presses down exactly where your clit is, hard.

The moan drags out of you, completely unbidden. All your past failed attempts have only succeeded in mounting your pleasure, growing it more and more, and getting even a sliver of it now is enough to drive you wild.

"Did you try?" Steve asks, as his thumb beginning to draw little circles. You feel so relieved, so burning warm, you could nearly cry. You're too caught up to try answer his question, which, well, Steve just won't have.

He pulls his hand back, halting all stimulation, and you're unable to stop your hips from canting up into his hand pathetically.

"Yes!" You gasp loudly. Your voice is getting whinier and whinier. "Yes, fuck, I tried, I couldn't— Steve, please."

He's merciful, his hand returning to your hot cunt in an instant, this time tucking inside your panties to strokes through your folds. You whimper, your head dropping back onto his shoulder, too worked up. All your energy is melting low in your gut, your orgasm twisting up tighter with just a few touches. God, you're going to cum before he even gets his fingers inside you.

"I got you," You realise he's mumbling in your ear, all sweet and low. His fingers drag down your cunt to collect the slick that's pooling there and he smears it across your clit. You can feel your thighs start to quiver as his thumb resumes its position, rubbing tight fast circles. "That's it, I got you, y'just needed a little help, huh?"

You're nodding along with what he's saying, high gaspy moans coming out with every pant. Your hips are rolling forward, humping at the air as Steve keeps his hand firm against you, his other hand wrapped around your waist to hold you still.

"Steve," You whimper in warning, one of your hands shooting out to grasp his forearm, needing the grounding as the pleasure keeps growing, and growing, and growing. Your breathes are stuttering out, jagged and whiney, and right as your hips roll back, you feel the hard shape of him through his jeans— the coil in your tummy dissolves.

White hot pleasure streaks through you, your cunt throbbing as you clench down on nothing. You writhe against Steve, a loud gasp of his name passing your lips as he dutifully strokes your clit through it all. Faintly, you can hear the soft murmurs of praise in your ear, a whisper of how beautiful you look cumming on your best friend's fingers. You whimper and whine, screw your eyes up, and ride it out.

It takes a minute before you're finally relaxing, out of breath as you tiredly tug his hand out of your panties, verging towards overstimulated. Steve lets you, his hand petting gently down your sides to soothe you as he brings the other up to his mouth. You're still puffing, trying to catch your breath as you watch him over your shoulder — shivering as you watch his slick-soaked fingers get cleaned by his tongue.

"Jesus Christ." You pant out, chest still heaving. You can still feel your clit giving little twitches; you don't think you've come that hard, ever.

"I think you mean, thank you." Steve smirks, one of his shoes scooping up your shorts from the ground. He kicks them closer, halfheartedly trying to fetch them for you. He gives up when he can't manage to kick them onto the couch. You're melted against him.

"Thank you," You utter quietly, body still buzzing. You honestly think it'll take a couple of minutes before you can move with how flattened you feel.

"You're welcome." Steve grins, a little less smirk, a little more genuine.

His gaze catches the television ahead of you, now static grain and he groans dramatically. "Oh man, we missed the whole movie."

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

𝖘𝖚𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝖉𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 (18+)

kinktober: vampire!steve edition

summary: what’s so wrong with exploring the abandoned chapel in your hometown’s haunted forest?

contains: gender unspecified reader; body worship; predator/prey; virgin!reader; biting/licking; edging; desperation; heavy make outs; praise; pain/pleasure

words: 5.9k

a/n: this is not accurate to any vampire folklore. i wrote what worked for this horny little story... though there is some inspo from 'interview with a vampire'. nonetheless, I hope you enjoy!

“And what are you doing this weekend?”

You shrug, leaning into Robin on your right. The green couch below you is old and weak, and you both sink down into it. A little get together goes on around you - everyone’s either drinking, smoking, or watching Eddie play the guitar. It’s a little loud, a little annoying, and you can tell that Steve, sitting across from you on a much better couch, is brooding. Your eyes meet his, coffee colored and annoyed, and you smile in acknowledgment before you look back to Robin. 

“I’m not totally sure. I was thinking of going to that abandoned Chapel out past Skull Rock?”

Robin elbows you just as Steve sits up and leans towards you, his elbows on his knees. He looks a little stunned, as does Robin. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Haven’t you heard the stories?” Robin asks, turning her body towards you and sitting criss-cross on the couch. “Why would you want to go out there?”

You feel scolded. “I don’t know,” you reply, trying to laugh it off. You look at Steve in your peripheral to see if he’s on your side before refocusing on Robin. “You know I’m a sucker for Victorian architecture, and it has really gorgeous stained glass -”

“Don’t you know what else it has?”

Now you roll your eyes as you turn to face him. He looks so serious, eyebrows slightly raised like he’s trying to say you know better. “Oh, what, Steve? Vampires?”

Now he rolls his eyes at you, leaning back into the couch and crossing his muscular arms. You aren’t unaware of the way his sweater hugs them. “No,” he scoffs. “The place is totally falling apart. It’s not even anything to look at anymore. You’ll probably get hurt and it’s at least a three mile walk from the nearest house. I promise it’s not worth it.”

You perk up. “So you’ve been there?”

“I - well, y-yes.”

“Oh, so you can take me?” you grin. 

“When have you ever been there?” Robin asks, brows furrowed. Many times, they talk to each other like no one else is in the room. 

“Not now,” he snips. 

“You take a girl out there or something?” you laugh, trying to cut the awkward tension as Robin and Steve glare at each other across the room. 

“Take a girl where?”

Eddie Munson has materialized, squeezing himself in between you and Robin. He throws his arms around you both, pulling Robin into him face first and you cheek into his shoulder. Robin shoves him away,  making you both nearly fall over. 

“That old Chapel in the woods,” you giggle, Eddie pulling you upright. “You know it, don’t you?”

“That place?” Eddie suddenly gets serious, sitting upright and looking at you with wide eyes. “That place isn’t safe for a little thing like you.”

“Thank you!” Steve says, throwing his hands out relaxing back. 

You deflate. “Whatever, Eddie, you probably lost your virginity there or something.”

“Not quite,” he says quietly. You have to lean in to hear him. “One time, a few years ago, we tried to have a DND game there. Really set the scene for our campaign, you know?”

He pushes off the couch and starts pacing. Steve knows he’s bullshitting now and rolls his cocoa eyes, but you and Robin and other people around perk up to listen to him. 

“We got everything ready. Candles, rugs… a joint for me. It was a cold November night, just after Halloween, and a full moon. And something just. Didn’t. Seem. Right. It was so quiet, you could hear the end of my joint burning. Our voices felt too loud. Even I started to get nervous. But we all brushed it off, thinking we were being influenced by the stories. Until….”

Eddie pauses for dramatic effect. A hush falls over the house. His lips twitch upwards. 

“CRASH!”

Everyone jumps, save for Steve, who sits perfectly still in his seat. 

“A deer came barreling in through one of the stained glass windows. And it fell. Dead. On the cold wooden floor. And when we went to check it out, it was covered in… what I could only describe as….” His voice turns low and even more quiet. “Bite marks.”

“Bite marks?” you repeat. 

“Bite marks!”  he sneers. “But these weren’t any normal bite marks. No… they were in pairs… two puncture wounds each… like fangs.”

Steve begins laughing, breaking the mystic tension in the room. Eddie deflates and turns on his heel, pointing an accusatory finger in Steve’s handsome face. “It’s against bro-code to ruin my stories, man!”

“So you really think it has a vampire haunting it?” Steve chuckles, batting Eddie’s thin finger out of his face.

“All I’m saying is,” Eddie says, turning slowly back to look at you. “You’d better take garlic with you when you go.”

===

“You’re not going.” 

You and Steve stand on the porch, shivering in the cold. He insisted on driving you home, though you’re now certain it’s just so he can lecture you. You try to avoid that route. 

“I’m not going alone,” you correct. “You’re coming with me.”

“I’m not going with you, either. It's off limits.”

You sigh, shoving your fists into your jacket pockets while you watch Steve light a cigarette. The flame makes his face glow for just a moment before it goes out and he puts the lighter back into his own pocket. His eyes are dark and brooding as he stares down the length of his cigarette at you. “Off limits,” he repeats. 

“I’m going whether you want me to or not. You can come with me - be my guide and my bodyguard and all that. Since you’re so acquainted with the place.”

Steve continues to stare, squinting at you a little. You stare back, unwavering. He sighs out a cloud of smoke into your face and you force yourself not to wince. “If we go,” he begins, “we go when I say and you stay by me the entire time. You aren’t touching shit, got it? All the trash and broken glass could get you hurt, easy. No exceptions.”

You’re confused with why he seems so cagey about the place, and why there has been such an emphasis on you being hurt. “Are you actually scared of this place?”

“No,” he scoffs, shaking his head and ashing his cigarette. “Just worried about you, that’s all.”

Your face heats up and you have to look away from his intense amber eyes. “Okay,” you whisper. “I agree to the terms.”

Steve smiles a little. “Okay. Two o’clock on Wednesday.”

“In the morning?”

“The afternoon!” He looks at you like you’re crazy. “We aren’t going at night.”

“Well, that’s not fun.”

“It isn’t supposed to be fun. You just want to see the ‘architecture’, don’t you?”

You huff. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he repeats. “Now, let me take you home.”

===

Leaves crunch loudly under your boots. It cuts off the sound of your heavy breathing. Steve doesn’t seem to use the same amount of exertion, trapezing through the cold woods with ease. His big hands are shoved deep in the pockets of a blue Member’s Only jacket, one he likes to wear during the colder months. 

“Should’ve worn a thicker sweater,” he observes, and moves in closer when he sees you shivering. “Want my jacket?”

“Can you stop daddying me for two seconds?”

“Is that a word?”

You bump into him hard, making him lose his footing. He smiles and bumps back into you, catching your arm when you nearly topple over. Things with Steve can be so easy sometimes. And other times, he’s a stressed, seemingly brooding man with an affinity for one night stands and cheap beer. His hand is cold on your arm, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you lean into him, walking in tandem. 

“You make your dates walk all this way?”

“What’s more romantic than a walk?”

“Anything else?”

“I think you’re just high maintenance,” he says with a smirk, looking straight ahead at the orange and yellow leaves hanging limply from their branches and bunching on the ground. 

“Don’t you take an hour to do your hair every morning?”

“That’s - that is not the same.”

“Sure.” You look up at him and beam and he finally steals a glance down at you. He smiles back, soft for a moment, before facing forward again. 

“I don’t understand why you want to go to some trashed building in the middle of the woods.”

“I’ve seen old pictures at the Historic Society. It used to be so nice - I wonder why people stopped going?”

Steve shrugs a shoulder. “Probably the vampires.”

“You don’t strike me as the kind of guy to believe in hocus pocus.”

“You must not know me well enough, then.”

“I’d like to,” you say before you can think better of it. “I mean - it’s just - we only ever really hang out with other people. I only know you - you know. Not as much as I know Robin.”

He’s quiet. Your heart drops down to your stomach. You eventually open your mouth, looking to change the subject, but Steve finally speaks. 

“Maybe we’ll just have to come out here together more often, huh?”

Your heart’s in your throat now, bringing a glowing heat up to your cheeks. You hug your arms a little tighter to you, thinking of something cute and witty to say, but Steve points ahead. “Up there. See?”

You have to squint, but through the red and gold maple leaves you see a tower extending upwards into the November sky. “Oh, wow. That didn’t take as long as I thought it would.”

“We’ve been walking for an hour,” Steve huffs. 

“You’re used to physical exertion, aren’t you?”

The chapel is a small, nearly unimpressive thing. The highlight, the reason why you came, are the tall stained glass windows that adorn all sides except the front. Each one depicts - well, depicted - a scene from the crucifixion. Many of the windows are now busted out, though, save for two. Excitement shoots up from your chest to your lips and you beam broadly at Steve. “Look! God, it’s gorgeous. Do you know how long this must have taken? Such a shame it’s been busted out like this.”

“Sure,” he says simply. But he isn’t paying much attention to you. His eyes are scanning the woods and he seems more on-edge and agitated than usual. 

“What?” you ask, bumping into him. “You scared? Did you forget your holy water?”

He rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t work, anyway,” he mutters. 

“Oh, so you know?”

“I’m just saying,” he says quickly. “Whatever. I’m not worried about things that don’t exist. There are bobcats out here, and -“

“And bats,” you beam, wagging your fingers in his face. “Really scary stuff at three in the afternoon, Steve.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “I’ll just let it eat you.”

“Sounds fun.” You step towards the door of the chapel, wooden and splintered. 

“W-wait,” Steve interrupts. “Can’t we just look out here?”

“No! We didn’t walk all this way to stand outside.”

“You said it wasn’t even that long!”

“Whatever, Steve,” you huff, walking again. He’s hot on your heels, stuttering excuses in vain. You still throw open the door, revealing a beautiful, one room interior. The back, where you stand, still has several rows of red pews, but beyond the sixth row is nothing but an expansive hardwood floor and trash. The front of the room holds a podium that’s been knocked over, and a strong, sturdy wooden table that still stands. It must be bolted to the floor. A deep, purple velvet cloth rests over it. It looks pristine, which gives you pause. 

“It looks like someone’s been here,” you mumble, taking another step. 

“So maybe we should leave.” Steve’s hand is gentle on your arm, and you’re quick to shrug out of it. 

The floor is littered with broken bits of stained glass. You know immediately that you’ll grab a piece as a souvenir. “Steve,” you sigh, turning to face him. “Ten minutes. Just ten minutes and we can leave.”

“Ten minutes,” he repeats. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, pulling the sleeves of his shirt taught across his shoulders. He leans against the doorframe, illuminated from behind by the daylight. If he wasn’t so brooding he might look like an angel. “You promise?”

You extend a pinky, which he takes reluctantly. You squeeze it and turn back around, but his eyes still bore into your back. 

“I’ll go stand watch. But whatever you do, don’t touch anything.”

“Fine, Steve,” you sigh, eyes roaming the expanse of the dilapidated chapel. A beam of sunshine makes the room shine and twinkle. You’re evidently not paying attention to him. 

“I’m serious,” he says, stepping towards you and taking your wrist softly in his hand. You look at him now, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, and maybe a bit of panic. “Don’t get hurt.”

Your eyes widen slightly, fixed on his. “I won’t,” you promise softly. 

He holds on to you for a few long seconds before finally unhanding you. He glances over you one more time before nodding and stepping outside. 

You didn’t know you were holding your breath, but you finally exhale. His bizarre behavior puts up some red flags, but Steve can be an anxious, overbearing person in general. Even at the mall. You decide to grill him about it later and begin your exploration of the building. 

You’re quick to notice a large red stain towards the front of the room. Is this where the deer came in and scared Eddie? And it must be, considering the ashtray on the floor. No joint, however - he must have taken it with him. There’s no carcass, either, just a large rotting stain. You don’t bother to think about it too much, though, especially since it was clear that other people had been here recently. Perhaps they’d cleared it out, or used it as a sacrifice in a ritual. Maybe that’s what Steve is worried about - cults and rituals, getting caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

It’s pretty clear he hasn’t taken any dates here. You wonder how he knew it was dangerous. 

A blue glint catches your eye on the other side of the room. This side seems a bit more clean, but glass riddles the space. You move towards it and stare in awe at the colors. Royal blue, magenta, bright gold, luscious greens. You know Steve told you not to touch, but you can’t help yourself. 

Your hand reaches out, fingertips caressing a fragment of glass. It’s ornate, stained with green and pink and blue in what must have been la pieta - the Virgin Mary holding Jesus in her arms and weeping. You pick up the piece, looking around the room for Steve quickly, before holding it closer. You wish he was beside you, though you know he’d be pissed with you. You’d elaborate on the process, wonder aloud who had the craftsmanship in Hawkins to create something like this. Maybe have a real conversation with him, get him to lighten up. 

A sudden crunch behind you makes you jump, clutching the glass into your palm in an attempt to conceal it. You immediately realize your mistake as the glass cuts harshly into your skin, slicing you open. You turn around, eyes squinting and brows furrowing in pain. You’re relieved it’s Steve for one fleeting moment until he recognizes the pain on your face. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, stepping towards you in long strides. 

“Don’t,” you whine, taking a step back. You’d rather avoid another lecture. But Steve meets you, takes your hand away from his chest and stares wide-eyed at the amount of blood pouring from your palm. 

The atmosphere in the room shifts. 

Steve’s eyes grow dark as he stares at your hand, unfurling it slowly. The shard of glass falls to the floor with a soft clink. He licks his lips and blinks. “Wh- what did you do?”

“You scared me,” you whisper. And he’s scaring you now, just a little, with the way he’s looking at you.

Has it really been ten minutes?

Steve takes a deep breath, his clavicles caving in. He looks conflicted, dark brows twitching together, mouth opening and closing. 

“Steve.” Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, pain forgotten as you look at him. “I-I’m sorry.”

He swallows and blinks hard before his eyes flit up to yours. You’re knocked breathless by the look he gives you. Eyes narrowed and dark, his lips plush as he licks them again. 

He looks at you like you’re prey. 

“Does it hurt?” he asks quietly. His thumb swipes over your cut and you gasp. 

“Yes.” He’s so mesmerizing. You forget yourself. 

His jaw clenches and unclenches. “Let me help.”

You’re confused. Steve didn’t bring an entire first-aid kit with him. You’re more confused when he lifts your hand to his face. And you’re certainly bewildered when his tongue darts out to flick across the cut. 

Instead of the pain you expect, his tongue soothes you. You watch in shock as Steve’s eyes drift shut, a small moan slipping past his lips as he greedily licks up your blood. Your blood. If you truly believed in the things you’ve been joking about - vampires - you’d run away screaming. Instead, you’re just perplexed. Especially with how his mouth seems to heal you. You watch with blown pupils as his lips wrap around your fingers to suck the remnants of blood off of them. Your middle finger leaves his lips with a soft pop and his eyes slowly open. They seem less brown and more maroon now, though it may just be the shadows. 

You force your eyes away from his to look at your hand. It’s cleaner, certainly. Less bloody. But the wound is still there, even if it doesn’t hurt. You look back up at Steve, slowly licking his fingers clean of your blood. 

You don’t know what to say, and it seems he doesn’t, either. It’s such a dramatic shift from who he was five minutes ago. Instead of anxious and fidgety, Steve’s confident, standing tall. He seems amused, not scared. He isn’t even lecturing you. And he’s always handsome, but now - it’s astonishing. As if he’s suddenly grown into himself. 

With his tongue off of you, the pain gone, you’re now acutely aware of the ache between your thighs. Steve suddenly chuckles, and his teeth - his canines look much more pronounced, pointy. 

“Did that feel good?”

His tone makes your legs squeeze a little closer together. Your mouth parts slightly and you nod in response. He smiles, predatory. 

You’re not afraid of him. It’s just Steve. 

He lifts your hand again, examining it, his finger tracing the thin trail of blood leaking from it. 

“It looks so painful,” he whispers, before looking back into your eyes. “How about I take your mind off of it?”

As if in a trance, you nod. His tongue had felt pleasurable on your open skin. Tingly, warm pleasure that shot straight down into your lower stomach. You want more of that. You want more of Steve. You want it so bad your mind is clouded with it. He’s the only thing that matters. You can’t even remember why you came here in the first place, the ornate glass long forgotten. 

Steve closes the gap between you, but he doesn’t kiss you. His head instead angles sideways, and he brushes his lips up against your neck. His touch feels electric. Your hands grab for him, your cut sharp and painful as you tug at his black sweater. He presses a gentle kiss to your skin before his teeth scrape the flesh, cutting you open. The pain makes you gasp and keen, your hands losing purchase on him - and then in a fluid motion, he licks your sore, and your eyes roll back in rapture. 

“See?” he whispers, pressing his lips against your ear. You can smell the metallic tang of blood on them. “Doesn’t that feel good?”

You nod, holding him to you. 

“Is this what you wanted?” His lips trail back down your neck, teeth grazing at another sensitive spot until they catch on the skin. He makes you bask in the pain for a moment before finally flicking his tongue against you. He moans, his hands traveling down to grip your hips and hold you to him. “This why you wouldn’t listen to me?” Steve sucks at the puncture harshly, forcing you to cry out. His words, his actions, it all makes you dizzy and horny.    

“So - you?” you rasp, eyes falling shut when his tongue soothes the pain again. “You were protecting me from you?”

“These are my hunting grounds, honey," he says lowly. "Eddie's a great storyteller, isn't he?"

Oh.

"I tried to stop you. I knew this would happen,” he continues, pulling back for a moment to look at you. “Know how accident prone you are. Knew you’d get hurt. And I knew I couldn’t stop myself."

You gasp quietly. You search his eyes. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Steve shakes his head. “You’ve got such sweet blood, but I can feed in other ways.” He smiles. “Why do you think I fuck so often? I can feed on sexual release, too. Lust, desire… and I‘ll admit, this isn’t the first time I’ve fed on you.”

Your brows raise. Before you can question him further, his lips kiss down your jaw and to your collarbones. “Yeah,” he mumbles, cold hands moving under your shirt. “Knew you’d get yourself into trouble.” His teeth pierce your clavicle and you moan in pain. “And with how goddamn cute you are, all that teasing in the woods… could hardly keep myself off of you then.” His nose presses against your wound and he inhaled the blood deeply. “Y’smell so fucking delicious.”

His tongue licks you clean as your knees shake. You’re at a loss. So confused and horny and needy. You gasp and keen against him, hands tangling in his shirt and staining it with your blood. 

“Are you scared?”

You whimper and shake your head. “No.”

He sighs with relief. “I’m so hungry. It’s been a while since I fed last. And you - you’re such a perfect victim for me, aren’t you? So willing for me, y’want me so bad. Don’t you?” His tongue licks a broad stripe across your neck before you can say anything. As you’re lost in that white-hotpleasure, he pulls you down onto the floor, tugging you into his lap. “Do you feel what you do to me?”

You do. Steve’s cock pulses through his jeans, thick and long. You feel it against you, right where you need him, and your eyes roll back. Before you can think better of it, your hips rock against his. He makes a sinful noise - something between a groan and a growl - and presses his lips to yours. 

Your mind goes blank. It’s all just Steve. Steve, and his lips, and his tongue against yours. His cock straining under you. Every heartbeat makes you feel hornier, makes you pulse with need and desire. He tastes like blood. Your blood. And something sweet, too. He smells like pine and tobacco. He’s enveloping all of your senses, engulfing you in him and only him. 

His teeth stab your tongue now. You cry out, but just as quick, he sucks it into ecstasy. “So good,” he praises under his breath, before his teeth bite into your bottom lip. He sucks it into his mouth, too, swiping his tongue over the raw skin. Steve’s hands move up and down your sides until he manages to squeeze them underneath your shirt. His skin is freezing against yours, and you shiver and grind on him harder. He bites you again, harder than ever, and you cry out. 

Steve pulls back to watch you with blown pupils, his mouth bloody - but not as bloody as your own. You’re speechless on his lap, overwhelmed. Your lip is on fire, like it’s been stabbed with a hot knife. Thick, crimson blood pours down your chin and onto your neck. He lets it drip, let’s you writhe before he licks it up with a broad stroke. 

“Please,” you beg softly. You let your fingers dig into his broad shoulders. The pain is beginning to spread into your cheeks and jaw. “Steve, please, it hurts.”

“Patient,” he mumbles. “Just be patient.”

But it’s so hard. Tears prick at your waterline, and your body stiffens. Steve grinds his hips up to stimulate you again, but it’s such a temporary relief. You wonder if he’s trying to turn you, and you panic, moving your hands away from him and towards your mouth. He catches your wrists in his big hands and finally kisses you again. The relief is immediate and stunning. Waves of pleasure crash through every single part of you, from your head down to your toes. You shake, thighs parting and grinding to prolong your pleasure. Your eyes roll and you moan into his mouth, relaxing your hands in his grip. 

“I can smell your cum,” he muses, pulling away with a pink-tinged string of saliva connecting you. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to taste you.”

“Do you like me?” you ask suddenly, earnestly. 

It knocks the breath out of him. “More than I’d like to admit.”

“Then - mmph - why d-didn’t you do something?”

“I don’t want to do this to you. Hurt you.”

“You’re not -“

“I’m rough, and you’re inexperienced.”

Your cheeks burn. “Th- that’s not true.”

Steve tips you backwards onto your back. You’re lucky to not fall on glass, but the floor is still dirty and gritty beneath you. Not that it would matter if you got hurt, anyway. Steve climbs on top of you, glaring, so intense you feel breathless. 

“Don’t think I don’t know,” he says quietly. 

Your heavy breaths fill in the pause. “Know what?”

“That you’ve never been touched before.”

You have no clue how he knows that. It’s not information you readily give out, nor is it something you’re ashamed of. But you’re sure you’ve never discussed this with him. Your eyes are wild and unfocused as you search his face for an explanation. 

“Virgins taste different.”

Your face heats more, chest blooming with fire. “I-is that bad?”

“Bad?” he scoffs, leaning towards your lips again. “I could eat you up.”

His lips are soft and surprisingly warm. You wonder how it’s possible - is he warming up from drinking your blood? And the feeling of them once again knocks you out, makes you impervious to the outside world. Your hands tangle in his golden brown hair and he groans when you tug at it. Steve shoves a knee between your legs for you to grind on again while his hands trail back up your shirt. His fingers pinch and pull at your nipples. Your cries echo in the ancient chapel, a hint of sun pouring in. 

Steve trails his soft lips down your neck again, but he doesn’t bite. Instead, he kisses and licks at you while his fingertips glide over your stomach. “Your shirt,” he whispers, breath tickling your ear. “Can I take it off?”

“Please.” You sigh in relief when he does. The room is cold but you’re so hot from his ministrations that it feels good. Steve bends down and moves his lips to your chest immediately. You laugh breathlessly. “A-always heard you w-were a tits guy.”

Steve smiles, then bites down. His incisors catch on your nipple, easily the most sensitive part of you he’s touched so far, and you grind harshly on his perched knee. “Steve!”  you moan, twisting in agony as he lets you bleed before he wraps his lips around your nipple. You’re sent into mind melting bliss, to the point that you truly can’t take it anymore. Tears gather at your waterline and a moan is punched out of you.

“Both,” you sob, tugging at his hair. You feel crazy for it, for him. For his mouth to hurt and heal you where you feel pleasure most. “Both ‘f ‘em, please, Steve.”

“You’re so good,” he whispers, trailing his lips towards your other pec. “You take it all so well. So eager. Wish I knew….”

“Shit!” you shout, back arching off the ground - he’s bit hard into your nipple, a sharp pain that makes your blood run cold. And in the next instant he soothes it with his tongue, sucking on the swollen bud and pulling the pain and blood right out of it. 

“Need to touch you,” he says urgently, hands moving to your pants. You lift your hips but he still asks, “Can I?”

“Fuck me,” you beg, spreading your legs and lifting your hips higher for him to get the hint. 

He frowns. “Honey.” His fingers shake as he unzips your jeans. 

“I need to feel your cock,” you moan. You do, so badly. To feel it split you open, for him to soothe the hurt back out of you before fucking it into you again. For him to be overwhelmingly apart of you. 

“Honey,” he repeats, quickly shucking your pants down your thighs. “I’m not going to be your first time.”

“Why?” 

He blinks, frowning still. His sadness is clear. “You shouldn’t have a monster as your first.”

He kisses you before you can protest, a hand moving between your bodies to touch you where you need him. You gasp, allowing Steve to slip his tongue into your mouth. You taste your own bitterness, but Steve’s hand distracts you from it. He’s as well versed as you always heard, as you’ve always been so jealous of. He doesn’t even have to look to know where you need him. You wonder if he can just tell where to go, the same way he can tell you’re a virgin. 

“Do you want me?” he says, pulling back, lips glossy. His fingers touch a certain spot that makes your eyes roll. “Do you trust me to make you feel good?”

Your head lolls. “Please, Steve.”

“Shit,” he hisses, mouthing at your neck. “I’m fucked. I’m so fucked, sweetheart. Shouldn’t have brought you here, couldn’t help myself….”

“Did you w-want this to happen?”

Steve doesn’t have an answer. Or he can’t answer. 

“I want you,” he groans. His fingers twist and rub. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I… in every way. Your mind, your body, your soul.”

It makes you shiver. “Take me.”

Steve sighs, teeth grazing against your pulse point before he pulls away and trains his attention on his hand. On the slickness between your thighs that grows with each stroke. He swallows you, greedily, eyes widening to take in your twisting body. He can feel himself growing stronger, more energized and focused. The more your lust grows, the more powerful he is. And the more your lust is present, the longer it takes, the more he can feed. 

Steve isn’t self serving, but it’s been a while since he’s had his energy repleted. And Sherilyn Perry had been a quick, boring fuck that lasted fifteen minutes in his bedroom. This - this is different. It’s so much stronger, his adoration for you on a nearly unholy level. And your virginity adds fuel to the fire burning in his veins. He feels better than he has in years, watching you fall apart under him. So he’s not selfish, he’s just… hungry. 

He’s good at keeping you on the edge for him. His thick fingers explore you before he rescinds them. He gives you a few moments to catch your breath, staring down at you with blown pupils and a blush before sending you into the throes of pleasure again. 

The only thing you can comprehend is Steve. 

You’re once more in a trance. How could you possibly come back from this? With the way Steve looks at you? With the way he’s gentle and loving, how his fingers curl - does he feel the same? Is he as drunk on you with his crimson lips and garnet eyes? You moan as his fingers and, heart beating quick and hard. He leans forward again to bite down on your nipple, lapping the pain away after. Long, languid strokes of his fingers have you clenching and pulsing. 

Steve can feel a pressure building throughout his body but resting heavily in his lower stomach. His cock twitches and pulses, begging to be buried inside of you. Steve’s true to his word, though. He refuses to ruin a pretty thing like you, to take away the intimacy of your first time. As much as he’d love to be the guy to be your first everything, he’s firmly convinced you deserve better. A human. A man you could grow old with. He yearns to be that so much it makes him sick. He forces himself to stop thinking about it and instead gives in to his peak. 

“Give it to me,” he whispers, “feed me, honey. Let me see that gorgeous face when you cum…”

Let me be the first. 

“St-eve,” you choke out, going rigid under him as the string between your stomach and thighs grows taut. It snaps, sending your body keening and trembling, your voice crying out. Steve’s eyes roll back as much as he’s trying to keep them on you. His own orgasm takes over, ruining (another) completely good pair of Levis, a life-force entering his body and punching out a climax. It makes his body shake and stretch. He doesn’t mean to bite down so hard on your neck while he ruts his clothed cock against the hand working on you. 

Steve could keep you in that state as long as he wanted. An endless orgasm as long as he deemed fit, feeding on you until he’s taken you for everything you have. In pain and suffering from a bite. And you’d be happy to have it. But Steve is nothing if not a gentleman - so he soon withdraws his hand and licks gently at the last bite he’s left on you. 

You still shake, even after Steve has pulled away. The exhaustion and bliss is overwhelming. Steve lays on top of you, caressing your cheek and frowning down at you. “It’s okay, sweetheart, just breathe for me. You’re okay, I promise.”

You nod weakly, weakly tugging him into you. “Y’r okay, too?”

He chuckles. “Uh-huh. I’m okay. I’m here.”

Your eyes drift shut. Steve watches with a smile, taking in every single inch of you that he can see. You suddenly tilt your head up and pout. 

A kiss. 

This somehow seems more intimate. You’re not in the process of fucking. It isn't the heat of the moment. You only earnestly crave his affection. And while he knows he shouldn’t if he doesn’t want this to happen again, he leans forward and presses his lips softly to yours. 

“Does this make me yours?” you whisper when he pulls away. Your eyes stay closed. 

Something fierce and unnatural tugs at Steve’s stomach. He’s never felt like he owns anyone he feeds from. He’s happy to send them on their way, blissed out and wondering why he doesn’t use his mouth on them. Now, though, the idea of owning you makes him feel something visceral. He doesn’t - he can’t - but his eyes grow dark as he looks down at your dozing figure. 

“Mine,” he tries. The sound of it makes his skin crawl. 

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

poll winner (sorry remus girlies) 18+

It was like walking through water, a lazy, slow drag, a heavy feeling, a fuzzy feeling.

You’d been in Steve’s bed for the best part of an hour, going from making out flat on your back, to your t-shirt gathered at your shoulders, showing off your bare tits, your under pushed to the side as knelt face down.

He was fucking you like he’d been kissing you, slow and deep, dirty and with intent. Steve made sure you felt every inch of him, his thrusts languid, the same as his hands on you, palms squeezing at the dough of your hips, fingers trailing up and down the length of your back when you whined for him.

“You’re doin’ so good,” he said, voice cracking down the middle because you kept clenching on him, cunt a warm, wet vice around his cock. “You can take this cock, can’t you, honey?”

You nodded, eyes closed and cheek pressed to his mattress. You felt warm all over, lightheaded at the sound of his voice and Steve groaned when you murmured out a soft, “uhuh.”

You could take his cock, all of it, every inch. Steve had worked you up to it, sliding one finger, two fingers, three fingers inside of you, hovering over your frame as he fucked them into you knuckle deep, smiling wide when you came, smirking wider when you came again. He dropped lines of spit onto your pussy, gasped and hummed when the wet, lewd sounds filled the room.

Now he was fucking you into his mattress, ass up and legs spread so he could see how wet you still were. Your pussy was shining, slick and pretty in the low light and every now and then, Steve would pull out just to grab at your ass and spread you a little wider, dipping down on his knees to lick you from clit to entrance, groaning at your taste.

It made you squeal, toes curling and cheeks red hot because it was dirty, it was filthy and you wanted to tell him to keep doing it. Instead you cried out his name and waited for him to slide back inside, cock stretching you out over and over. His hips slapped your ass, making the fat there bounce, his hands roaming wild as he kept up a slow and steady pace, breathy little, “uh, uh, uh’s,” being punched from you.

“Tell me what you want,” Steve cooed and his voice was as pretty as he was, raspy and rough and sweet. “I know you want something, honey. You just gotta tell me.”

You whined, cheeks still burning, body flushing a white hot heat and you squealed when Steve nudged at one knee, spreading you further, your chest dropping to the sheet until your back was arched in a real nice way.

“Faster,” you choked out and you sounded needy, desperate. You didn’t care. “Faster, Steve, please.”

Steve grinned and even thought you couldn’t see it, you felt the air shift, his mood change. Gone was the slow teasing. Steve stressed himself, knees planted on the bed and he let himself drape over you, lips trailing open mouthed kissed across your shoulders and the back of your neck and then he was canting his hips down into yours, faster and faster until your eyes rolled back and you could only say Steve’s name.

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒.

steve harrington concept (x fem!reader)

word count:

warnings: allusions to smut, tooth-rotting fluff, hopeless romantic!steve.

disgustingly in love.

wants to hold hands constantly. wants to press kisses to his girl’s cheeks and shoulders and wrists randomly. wants to cuddle whenever possible. wants to hug for full minutes. wants to cook his lover dinner. wants to adopt pets with his lover. wants to brag about his girl to anyone who’ll listen. wants to be lovesick. wants to stare at his beloved with heart eyes and not care about anyone’s teasing because his girl loves it so it doesn’t matter. wants to flirt all the time. wants to win you over again and again everyday. wants to make breakfast together every sunday morning. wants to bring breakfast in bed, to receive breakfast in bed. wants to spend saturday nights cuddled up in front of the fire. wants to have candle lit dates. wants to write love letters, to receive love letters. wants to have pictures of his honey in his wallet, taped to the inside of his closet, tucked into the sides of his mirrors, on his bedside table. wants to by his love flowers, chocolate. wants to love fully and be loved just the same in return.

steve harrington wants to fully embrace the hopeless romantic in him, and now that he finally found his love, his person, he can do so freely and safely.

── harmo’s footnotes:

please remember to show your support by reblogging!

masterlist. steve harrington dreams.

ghostlyfleur © — all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, or translate.

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

hi, gorgeous. currently daydreaming about steve’s innocent, shy girl climbing on top of him while he’s in a chair and she’s ready to ride him but his huge hands settle on her hips to stop her and she’s looking at him all confused and ready to do her part but he just says “just sit here and look pretty for me,” before he begins to absolutely pound into her, one hand on her hips and the other holding her jaw to make her look at him. he’s just praising the hell out of his little angel baby for taking him so good because he’s just so big. the mental image of his furrowed brows and clenched jaw as he watches her completely melt on his lap from pleasure has me clutching my peARLS

– sittin’ pretty

U KNOW WHAT!! UR THE DEVIL! THE DEVIL!! anyways this request had me feral the moment i started writing it… it gets a little soft at the end tho fem!reader, light choking, hella praise kink, what the request says basically <3 and around 1.7k MDNI this entire blog is 18+

It’s hard to press down your shyness as you tug the tight elastic of your underwear down your calves. They pool at your ankles. You step out of them and resist the urge to cave in and cover yourself. 

“C’mon, c’mere sweet girl,” Steve says softly, his hands smoothing over the top of his tan hairy thighs. He pats them to urge you over. 

Everything feels a bit stilted as you tiptoe over to the big comfy armchair he’s seated on, with his thighs parted. You can feel a surge of slick between your thighs at the sight of his aching cock, the head all pink and drippy just for you. It lies back against his happy trail, the vein on the side prominent. 

Steve offers you his hand, palm up. You take it and let your knees gently find either side of his hips, hovering hesitantly above him. Heat swirls between you, mixing with the fog of lust that emanates heavily from Steve. His adoring face gazes up at you, but his are eyes dark in a way that makes your tummy twist up. 

“Hi, pretty.” He murmurs, guiding your face down for a kiss. You sigh into it sweetly, hands gripping his shoulders. 

“Hi.” You whisper back, against his lips. His kiss and reverent gaze give you courage, leaning back to plant one hand on his knee. Your other hand reaches between your two bodies and curls around his throbbing cock. It’s warm and hard, twitching at the sudden stimulation. Steve hisses lowly, his tummy flexing as pleasure jolts through him. 

Even though you’re shy, that doesn’t mean you’re not impatient. Today, there will be no working him up til he’s begging to be inside you, no matter how much you desperately want to. Instead, you waste no time, tilting your hips forward to let the head of his cock catch against your entrance in a way that makes you moan. Your thighs ache a little with the slow pace you lower yourself — but Steve’s cock is always a stretch. 

It stings, just the slightest, but enough to make you revel in it. You sink down, hand shifting forward to hold his hip to prop yourself up, and your eyes flutter shut in pure ecstasy as his hard cock stretches you open— unaware of how Steve fights to keep his eyes open, drinking in every minuscule expression on your face. 

“That’s it, honey,” He coos, sweeping his hand up your hip to tug you down an inch more. You mewl, body shuddering as you clench around him. It feels fucking mind-melting how good he feels filling you up. “That’sssss it.” 

You’re whimpering by the time he’s fully hilted in you, your thighs pressed down against his own. Steve’s panting a bit, hairy chest rising and falling as he struggles to keep himself in control. You’re so wet, so warm, and god, you’re still so shy even when you’re sitting on his cock — averting your eyes even as your tight little hole clenches around him. When did he get so lucky?

Try as you might, there’s not stopping the pitiful gasp that comes out when you lift yourself back up, his cock gliding almost all the way out of your cunt. You can feel the mess you’re already making on him, can already feel the subtle ache in your thighs but none of it deviates you from your plan. You’re going to ride your boyfriend like there’s no fucking tomorrow. 

But right as you prep yourself to sink back down, Steve’s hands stop you, shooting out to grab you by the hips. You pause. Shyness creeps back in. 

“Wha…? Is something wrong?” You ask. 

Steve’s quick to comfort, one of his hands reaching up to cup your cheek. “Hey, hey, everything’s fine. I just—“ He shift his hips up a bit and you shiver, eyes fluttering closed without thinking. When you open them again, he’s grinning. 

“I just want you to sit here and look pretty for me, hm?” He leans up to kiss your cheek and it makes you entirely too distracted for what happens. 

His tummy clenches, muscles tightening, as his hips suddenly snap up, thrusting his cock back deep into you. You squeal. 

“Steve!” Your hands propel forward, grasping his shoulders, but he doesn’t pause. His hands on your hips tighten as he holds you in place, drilling up into your wet cunt, hard and fast. Pleasure dribbles through your core, hot and melty. His thighs slap against your own, causing them to buckle and you sink down a little lower — only forcing his cock deeper inside you. 

You whine, all of a sudden overwhelmed, and tuck your face away— all too aware of how every time he fucks up into you, you make a needy little uh. 

And, well, that just won’t do. With one hand keeping your hips secure, his other wanders up, creeping in around your neck. Even as he fucks you roughly, his touch is still gentle. His big hands can stretch across the expanse of your jaw— and he uses it to coax your head up. You’re already looking teary eyed, warm enough in the face that he can feel it with his hand, all from how much you’re enjoying it. Steve loves it. 

“Baby,” He manages to rasp out sweetly. You gasp, hiccupy and high pitched, embarrassed by the wet squelchy noises he’s fucking out of your cunt. “Look at you, my baby. Doing so good for me, huh? Taking it so well, angel.” 

You lean into the hand around your throat further, letting him curl his fingers around it a bit tighter. One of your hands flies up to grasp his wrist, needing, craving the connection. 

“Steve,” you cry, delirious from the pleasure. His cock fills you over and over, unravelling you from the inside. “Steve,” You repeat his name uselessly, mouth hanging open as a whiney moan takes over. 

“I know, I know.” He coos, sweet as he can be while ruining you on his cock. He’s got a furrow in his brow, his jaw set, perfect brown eyes searching your face— always looking for which button to press next, which way to make it better for you. God, you love him. 

“So fucking good, isn’t it angel?” He grunts. “Perfect fuckin’ cunt, just made to take my cock, isn’t she?” 

“Yes!” you keen, the words tearing from your mouth. “Yes, yes, yes, fuck,” Pathetic whimpery noises flow out freely, your grip around his wrist tightening as you feel heat gather low in your tummy. 

“G-God, fuck,” Steve groans, the first hint of desperation leaking into his words. His hand around your throat tightens in the slightest, a soft pressure that has your head spinning. “Can fucking feel you getting close.” 

His words make you moan, your thighs slipping further down — your hand shoots out to brace against the arm of the chair, desperate to keep him going, to reach your peak. 

“Your—“ A whimper slips into his voice. “Fuck. Your pussy gets all tight when she wants to cum— y’wanna cum?” 

You’re nodding along before he’s even finished his sentence. With how hard he’s fucking you, hips thrusting up against yours, it’s a wonder he can even see it. You whimper out a “Yes.” just in case. 

“I know you do.” He groans loudly. “Deserve to, too. You’ve been so good, so fucking good, yeah?” 

His hand holding your hip slips forward, snaking towards your clit and pleasure twists the coil in your tummy up tighter and tighter. His rough thumb pushes against it, sloppy but effective. You wail. 

“Y’deserve to cream all over my cock like a good girl, don’t you?” He rasps, throat a bit wrecked from every sweet sultry noise thats passes his lips. 

You’re not even sure if it’s words coming out your mouth anymore, just a whiney mess of yes’s tangled up in your moans. Steve whines, the rhythm of his strokes beginning to falter as his own orgasm begins to rear up. You whine and your hips move on their own accord— bouncing down on his cock to meet his thrusts midway. 

“Yes, yes, fuck, you’re so good, y’look fucking perfect bouncing on my cock,” Steve rambles, that perfect pussy-drunk expression beginning to take over him. His moans turn to whines and with one desperate whimper of your name, you topple like a house of cards. 

Pleasure unravels you. Your hips stutter and drop down, trying to cram every inch of Steve into you as you can, while your other hand claws weakly at his tummy. Heat scorches every nerve inside you, delicious and overwhelming all at once. 

The scratch of your nails, the clench of your wet cunt, the pitiful crying noise you make, all of it sets Steve off — his back arching and hips bucking up, trying to get more of your hot, wet pussy. His face screws up, a high whine tearing out his throat as his hands grapple to circle around your back, trying to get you closer.

It’s a sweat press of skin, chest to chest. You twitch and moan, face tucked away safely in his neck, as Steve lets all his noises out into the curve of your own. It’s deeply intimate — enough to make your shyness peek back up when Steve digs his face out after a minute of laboured breathing. His face is pink, his expression blissful. 

“You,” He huffs tiredly, eyes scanning your face worriedly. “You okay? Wasn’t too rough?” 

You melt a bit, a breathy laugh escaping you. “Yeah, I’m okay.” You chuckle. Nerves rear their ugly head within you before you can flatten them. “Was I— that was good?” You check. 

Steve laughs softly, nuzzling in closer to you. He smells fantastic. You can’t help how you mirror him, nosing along his cheek, letting your eyes slip shut. 

“Baby, I think you melted my brain.” He says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

ive been so inactive im so sorry!!

i need to get back into it soon

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

this is so so sweet 🥹

i love it

he so does!!!

the same way you just love nuzzling his tummy, pressing kisses, taking a tiny lil bite, he starts doing the same to you. i don’t know about you, ava, but i have a thing for soft tummies. a very serious thing. and steve’s (*cough* joe’s *cough*) is just soooo squeezable? huggable? kissable? once you start showing his tummy some love, he feels so cherished and loved, and feels free somehow. like he doesn’t have to hide from you, you know? and he wants you to feel that same peace, so you two just constantly give each other’s tummies some love. it’s just a lot of comfort and cuddles <3 😌

♡

# steve harrington

(repost from my old account) @odairsangel

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

stevie smut based on those boat photos is not a want, but a need

18+

Steve’s initial glimmers gold on your sun-kissed skin — a swirled S in the middle of a dainty chain. 

Despite its simple statement, you know it must’ve cost him a fortune. That’s not to say he even noticed the small dent it made in his bank account, of course. You know he bought it for you without thinking twice. But to you, still a broke college student at heart, the tiny thing feels so much heavier.

Imposter syndrome creeps up your spine like the cold hand of a ghost. 

Just yesterday, you were studying for finals, and now you’re on a yacht off the coast of Venice. Six months ago, you were living in a slum of a studio apartment on a top ramen only diet. Now you’re in Italy, with real gold around your neck, on a boat that wasn’t yours, drinking wine you didn’t pay for.

You know it’s all because of Steve just as much as you know he’s doing this for you because he loves you. You just can’t believe that it’s happening to you. 

What did you do to deserve any of this? To deserve Steve? What could you possibly give him in return to show how grateful you are for all of it? What do you give him that he can’t already buy?

“What are you thinking about, hm?” the boy himself questions as he appears in front of the leather couch you’re lounging on. He holds two glasses in his hands, one full of whiskey and the other white wine. He hands the latter off to you. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hum innocently in return. Your sundress falls to your lap when your knees bend to invite him next to you. His arm curls around your legs to pull them back over his khaki-clad lap when he sits down. His hand rests on your bare thigh.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he argues, squeezing softly at the plush skin — not enough to hurt you, but enough to make you giggle into your wine. “You’re doing the thinking face.”

“I am not doing the thinking face.”

“You so are,” he counters with a gentle grin and sparkling eyes. You didn’t think unbelievably wealthy guys could be as cute as he was. “What is it? Are you hungry?”

You shake your head against the pillow. “No. I’m good.”

“Do you feel okay? Are you seasick?” 

His tone is soft with concern. He’s already got himself all worried. 

Steve’s hand leaves your thigh to push his sunglasses to the top of his head, forcing his honey locks back in the process. A few ornery strands still hang over his forehead. His chocolate eyes, deeper than a thousand oceans, melt with concern. “Do you need me to call another boat? Should we go back to the hotel—”

Your giggling puts an end to his panicked rambling. He squints while you hide your smile with your wine glass. “What?” he lilts with a smile, still halfway worried that you’re coming down with sunstroke.

“Nothing,” you hum when the laughing fit ebbs like a low tide. You tilt your head to your shoulder and smile. “I just love you.”

You swear you see him sigh in relief.

“Oh, you’re just lovesick, huh? That it?” 

The way he coos at you — sounding almost degrading even though you know he’s only joking — makes your thighs squeeze shut. His warm fingers are caught between them.

“Very,” you nod like you’re proud to be. Because you are. 

You’re lucky to love a guy like Steve. Even luckier that he loves you back. 

Wind whips through the collar of his white button-up as he props his elbow on the back of the couch, facing you more. The top of his shirt is unclasped to reveal the cinnamon scruff on his chest that he also sports on his unshaven jaw. 

He’s too hot to smile so sweetly down at you.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, obviously insincere as he scrunches his nose. “Think I might’ve given you the lovebug…”

You shrug. “’S okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… As long as you stay sick with it forever.”

Steve’s sculpted features melt as he gazes down at you. He goes kind like he’s about to tell you how stupid you are for even thinking he could be anything other than crazy for you. 

Despite the strange angle, he begins to lean toward you, sitting his whiskey down on the glass table in the process. “Oh, honey, I’m gonna be sick over you for the rest of my life.”

“Ew,” you giggle at his wording, reaching for his stubbly cheek anyway. You scoot slightly over to accommodate his body.

Your mouth puckers for an innocent kiss that he’s more than happy to give you — one, two, then three of them, to be exact. The fourth one is far too languid to be called a peck, too wet and too full of tongue. 

You sigh against him at the tenderness of it, like a first love or a last one.

Steve’s hand is still pressed between your warm thighs, still trapped between them lest he think about moving it. His other bends at the elbow to prop himself up. It’s not like he’s going anywhere anyway, not from where he’s squished between your body and the back of the couch — with your legs thrown over him and your free hand clutching his face to yours. The other is wrapped around his neck and still holding your wine.

You lick sinfully into his mouth, like a kitten to milk, just before you part from him.

“Wanna buy you a necklace, too,” you tell him, breathless and quiet and seemingly out of the blue.

A crooked smile quirks on the right side of his rosy mouth. He knows you can’t afford it. The thought is cute, anyway. “Yeah?”

You nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth as your hand curls around the base of his neck. You can feel the thrumming of his pulse against your thumb. 

“Wanna put my initial here,” you confess lowly, glassy eyes never leaving his honeyed ones. “Want everyone to know you’re mine, too.”

“Too?” he echoes with a smile, too full of love to be smug. His hand twists between your thighs and moves like syrup beneath your dress. He cups your bikini-clad cunt and grins. “‘Cause you’re mine, huh? Is that it?”

You nod. 

A moan leaves in a fragile sigh from your parted lips when his finger sneaks beneath the fabric. He rubs you, up and down one time, just to feel how wet you are and to smile when he finds you’re soaking. 

“Always been,” you tell him through bated breaths.

“Always been.” He repeats it like a vow. When he leans down again, you think he’s going to kiss you. You’re heartbroken when his lips meet your warmed cheek. 

You taste like lotion and sunshine, like new adventures and nostalgia. 

“Let’s get you to a bed, yeah? So you can show me who I belong to.”

He says it like a courtesy, like he’s giving you an ounce of the power he normally keeps for himself. But you know your place. You know he’ll ruin you soon enough. You’ll forget your own name before you can make him repeat it for you. 

You love it.

Steve rises off you and extends a hand to help you up, too. You trail happily behind him, knowing where he’s leading you — what he’s leading you to.

Your glasses sit abandoned beside one another, going warm beneath an orange sun.

—————

“God, honey. Fuck,” Steve swears. 

His grunts mix with the sinful slapping of your thighs against his lap. His happy trail and trimmed bush are soaked with the slick you drip for him. He squeezes the plush of your hips to help guide you up and down over his cock. 

“Takin’ my dick like a fuckin’ champ, baby. Like you were made for it, huh?”

You nod, slacked mouth and panting. Little whimpers spill from your swollen lips every time you move down over him, every time he hits the spongy spot deep within you that only he could ever reach. It feels like so many little strikes of purple lightning — too much to bear, but still not enough.

His golden initial sways above your breasts as your tits bounce in front of his face. He desperately wants a taste of you, to take your stiff nipple into his mouth, but he doesn’t want to take his eyes off you. 

“You’re so pretty, honey, you know that?” he babbles, heavy eyes flitting back up to your fucked-out face. It’s hard to talk with your snug cunt squeezing him somehow tighter. His words spill through gritted teeth. “Pussy’s pretty, too. And so— fuck— so good for me. Shit, honey… ‘M gonna come if you keep riding me like this…”

You moan in a delicate cry at his admission. Pride swells in your chest to know you’re making your boy feel as good as you do.

One hand clutches the pillow beside his head while the other takes purchase on his neck, the place you’ve got a newfound adoration for. You don’t choke him, though. You’re too gentle for all that. But not so gentle that you don’t know how to kiss him breathless. 

Your mouth engulfs his own, swallowing him whole and making him forget whose air he’s breathing.

His hands trail from your hips to your ass. He grips the fattiest part with wide, warm palms and spreads them apart. He imagines how his cock must look sinking into you, shining with your honey and his pearly pre-come. He imagines your fluttering cunt swiping against his heavy balls.

You hear him spank you before you feel it.

The smack comes just before the high heat that blooms across your right asscheek. “Steve,” you moan, unabashedly needy for him as ride him harder than you had been just before. The way he hit you felt like encouragement, rough but still tender.

The bed begins to rock beneath you like the yacht your man has put you on and the bright blue sea that carries the two of you.

Your wet cunt sucks his cock inside of you, taking him deeper and deeper even though the feeling of him so far within you borders on painful. Desperate and whining for him, you keep taking him like you were made to do it. 

Because you were. 

“Yeah, keep bouncing, honey. Doing so good for me,” he manages a fucked-out smile when low squelches start to fill the lavish studio. “Pussy’s perfect baby— god, fuck.” 

He cuts himself off with a groan when you tighten around him, tossing his head back on the fluffy pillow that you grip for dear life. 

“No pussy’s ever been this good for me, you know that? Always so good… How am I— shit— How am I ever supposed to stop fucking you, huh?”

“Don’t,” you squeak out. It’s the first intelligible thing you’ve said since you started riding him. You pout, scrunched browed and jutted lip, as your orgasm creeps up your sweat-slick spine. “Don’t want you to ever stop fucking me.”

Steve nearly bursts right then.

He doesn’t mean to take over — to hold your hips still and prop you above him while he plants his feet on the mattress. He doesn’t mean to fuck up into you, but he’s gone just as stupid as you have. His cock twitches and jerks within your snug pussy, and he wants so desperately to come. More than that, he wants to make you come like he knows you’re bound to.

“Yeah? You love my dick, don’t you?” he laughs through bated breaths — like he isn’t rightfully dumb over your pussy. “You always get so slutty for it.”

You don’t know if you want to protest or agree with him. All you do is moan as your fingers dig into his furry chest. The wet slap of his balls against your ass entwines with your cries and his taunts.

“Yeah, you do,” Steve coos, jaw clenched and brows furrowed. He still talks so softly to you like he isn’t fucking you for all you’re worth. “Go ahead, honey, cream on my dick. Make a mess for me… Gonna sit you on my face after, okay? I bet you’ll taste so sweet for me when I’m done with you.”

Your mouth falls in a silent cry. Your pussy spasms around him at the thought of his mouth between your legs, slurping at your honey and his come that leaks from your gaping hole.

“Get yourself there for me, baby,” he commands in a gentle murmur. “Take this dick. Take what you’re given—”

And just like always, you do. 

You orgasm on his stiff cock a second later — not coming, but gushing. His heavy cock jerks inside you right after, spitting several warm loads into your trembling cunt. 

His wide hands find purchase on your sweat-slick back, holding you to his scruffy chest while his hips buck against you, pushing his dick as far as you’ll take him. And, like the good girl you are, you take him all the way.

You take everything he gives you — come, orgasms, and gold necklaces alike.

When your senses return and your heavy breaths go even, Steve feels you smile against his neck. He thinks he must have fucked you so sufficiently stupid that all you can do is grin through the rippling aftershocks of your high.

That’s only half true.

You just know that he’s worked up an appetite after having fucked you so ardently. And you figure he won’t need a piece of jewelry with your initial on it when he’s wearing your come on his chin. 

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

KILL ME NOW.

he’s so fine im dead

i am….a whore

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

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.

♡ ♡

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

it’s golden, like daylight

dilf!neighbour!steve x babysitter!neighbour!reader

summary: when moving to hawkins the last thing you expected to find was any sort of love. especially not from the single dad who lived with his daughter two doors down. after offering to babysit for steve when he’s in a bind, it becomes a regular thing. through weeks of stolen glances and secret whispers, your feelings for each other bloom into something more. with both of you unsure of how the other feels and wondering if any of this is right, things are bound to get tangled up. after a particularly confusing night, you and steve find yourselves with no where to look but at each other.

word count: 17.4k

warnings: 18+ content,singledad!steve and his daughter whose name is daisy, age gap (reader is in her early twenties and steve is in his early to mid thirties), lots of back and forth pining and flirting, so much miscommunication, minor angst that gets resolved, mentions of blood (reader cuts her hand on broken glass, nothing serious), steve patching up the reader ( but it is not described graphically), steve being the sweetest, smut, dirty talk, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, size kink, reader struggling to take steve, reader getting teary eyed during sex, happy ending

authors note: hello again! i know some of you are wondering where the third chapter of invisible string is, and i promise it’s coming, but this is what i’ve been working on the past three weeks. this is the longest fic i’ve ever written and so i’m feeling very proud of it and of myself. this idea is one i’ve had for months but finally got inspired enough to finish. i want to announce here that because the love i feel for this fic is so strong, i am making this an au! here on my blog! that means you can request fics or send asks about this story as well as i will be writing more for it in the future! i hope you all love it even half as much as i do! i need to give some attention to some amazing people as i post this. a big thank you to @mysticmunson for creating the header for this and for listening to me talk through every idea i had. another big thank you to @bejeweledmunson @petal-veined and @moonmistt for putting up with this being all i’ve spoken about for week! i love you all so so much. also… @loveshotzz here she is, the glorious dilf fic i promised and i’m so sorry it’s probably a lot softer than you were thinking!

The quaint town of Hawkins was nowhere near as bad as you had prepared yourself for it to be. Moving into small towns like this could be difficult, considering everyone knew each other and most inhabitants had lived there for their entire lives. 

Living in the city you were used to most people being relatively rude to strangers, everyone always having somewhere to be with no interest in small talk of any kind. You were pleased to see that the few people you had met were nothing short of kind and made you feel right at home. 

The weather of the town was much nicer than you were used to. The sun beamed down brightly, the sky a bright blue with fluffy clouds scattered throughout it. This fact had you forgetting about your unpacked boxes on your first day there. Instead you rushed to the nearest florist, buying different already bloomed flowers to plant in the front, making the rental home feel more like your own. 

You had only been living there for a week, your boxes all finally unpacked and you were comfortably settled. The neighbourhood you lived in was cozy, green grass on each lawn, mailboxes all looking freshly painted, and sidewalk chalk covering every other driveway. 

You were seated in your front window, enjoying your morning coffee as you flipped through a few pages of a book. Your mind was wandering to what you needed to get done, jotting down a few things as you spotted something out of your window. You looked once more after the first time, realising that it wasn’t something you were seeing, rather someone, a small someone. 

There was a small girl in your garden, looking around it as she carefully walked beside it. She couldn't have been older than seven, her steps still wobbly despite the attentiveness to each step she took. 

She had dark brown hair that was in one french braid along the back of her head, a few small clips holding any loose pieces of hair back. A pair of denim overalls sat on top of a light pink t-shirt, her little white shoes covered in dirt all over. 

You were unsure of what to do. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, but truthfully you didn’t want her destroying the garden that you had just planted days ago. You got up off the windowsill, making your way out your front door quietly, not wanting to startle the tiny girl. 

“Hi there.” You said sweetly as you walked down your front steps, watching as she slowly walked over to where you were. 

“Hi!” She lifted a hand close to her body, waving it shyly. Her voice was slightly frightened, but she was putting on her bravest face. You didn’t look all that intimidating, a fact that you were hoping would play to your favour in this situation. 

“I like your overalls.” You pointed to them, kneeling down next to her. “They’re very snazzy.” 

She giggled at your words, freckled nose scrunching up as she smiled. Her cheeks were a little red from the sun and what you assume playing outside in the heat. 

“I like your flowers.” She replied, looking back at them before turning to you again. “They’re very snaz-snazzy!”

You laughed at her attempt to use the word you just did, making her laugh a little harder this time. You wondered if it was normal for kids here to approach strangers the way she did, if the parents of Hawkins just trusted that no one here was a bad person. 

She held out her hand, a pile of beaded bracelets on her wrist. You took her hand in yours, her whole hand nearly fitting into your palm. 

“I’m Daisy.” She hummed, aggressively shaking your hand. “I live down there.” She pointed down your street at a big white and blue house. 

“Like the flower!” You gasped excitedly. “I’m Y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you Daisy.” As she let go of your hand she began to play with her fingers, her mind searching for the correct words to say. 

“I was wondering…” She trailed off, looking everywhere but your face. “If-If I could have a few of your flowers…but they aren’t for me!” She exclaimed as if it would make her question sound more believable. 

“Who would they be for, sweet Daisy?" You inquired, lifting one of your knees from the ground, the hard pavement beginning to make it hurt. 

“For my dad!” She said happily. “It’s Father’s Day a-and I forgot to get him a present.” She winced, squinting as you copied her facial expression. “He never forgets my presents, and I feel not good.” 

Your heart was aching so hard your teeth were hurting. You were positive you had never met a kid this cute, nevermind this thoughtful. There was no way you could tell her no and send her away, knowing that it would weigh on your chest for the rest of your life. 

“I’ll tell you what.” You whispered, standing up fully but still bending so she could hear you. “I’ll help you put something together for your dad if you let me have one of those pretty bracelets.” 

It was not a fair trade in the slightest, but you weren't about to tell her that, not when she squealed with excitement, jumping up and down on your grass. 

“Thank you! Thank you!” She sang, grabbing your hand and dragging you to your garden. 

You let her pick whichever flowers her little heart desired, not surprised when she chose a few daisies as her final touches. You grabbed some newspaper and ribbon you had inside, putting the arrangement in the middle of it and tying it up to look somewhat presentable. 

“Do you know how to write?” You asked her, taking a pen and a small piece of construction paper. 

“Not very well.” She grumbled, making you let out a breathy laugh. “My dad lets me write while he helps!” You take her word for it, placing the paper on the wood of one of your stairs, leading her hand along the paper with yours as you write. 

“To dad.” She mumbles to you, telling you what she wanted the note to say. “I love you, from Daisy.” You see her nodding her head, content with her word choice. 

You finish the poor attempt at a note up, it being painfully obvious that she helped you write it, the words being barely legible. You were sure her dad wouldn’t care, you weren’t even positive he would care as much as she thought he would, a thought that made you worry this might have been a bad idea. 

As you finished putting it together, you watched her reach behind her neck, unclipping the beaded necklace and showing it to you. It was pink and white, with a flower charm sitting in the middle of it, a daisy. 

“Do you like that one?” Her eyes were hopeful. “It’s pink like your dress but you can pick a bracelet instead! No mean feelings! It matches so I thought it would be a better choice for you!” 

You assumed she meant ‘no hard feelings,’ which made you bite back a laugh. She was great at speaking for someone her age, but still struggled to pick the right words.  

It had a childproof clip on it, the odd one that you sort of just push together which really did make it easy for you to put on. It sat right between your collarbones, the size of it not quite being big enough for an adult, not that you minded. 

“This one is even more perfect than a bracelet, thank you, Daisy.” You tell her, handing her the bouquet. “Think it would be okay if I walked you home?” 

You thought it might be a good idea to take her home. You didn’t want her dad to think she was with a freaky stranger, but rather a neighbour, who was also a stranger, but one with no harmful intentions. 

“That sounds very okay to me!” She smiled at you, nodding her head as she reached for your hand. “I think my dads gonna love this with all his heart.”

“I sure hope he does.” You followed behind her, eyes widening as she began to run.

“Dad!” You heard her yell as she disappeared onto the property. 

The house was only two down from yours, their driveway being one of the many with chalk all over it. As you stepped onto the driveway you saw a man kneeled in front of her, his back turned to you. 

“They're beautiful, sweetie.” You could faintly hear his voice over the sound of someone mowing their lawn. You watched her explain something, hands flying all over the place. “Yes, I love them so much, best Father’s day ever.”

You walked up the driveway a bit further, still keeping a healthy distance. 

He engulfed her in a hug, holding the flowers behind her so that they wouldn’t get squished. When they separated he whispered something to her, the question making her look over his shoulder, pointing to you happily. 

His head turned to look at you, staring for a moment before he handed the flowers back to her, muttering something. She ran off into their backyard with the flowers, giving him a moment to stand to his full height. 

You had no idea what you were expecting Daisy’s dad to look like. Maybe someone much, much older than you, someone who wasn’t very attractive and who was possibly going to curse you out for talking to his child without him present. 

You were dead wrong. 

He wore a faded grey t-shirt, the words on it so worn out that you couldn't read them. His blue jeans had grass stains on them, only getting dirtier as he rubbed some dirt on the thighs of them as he approached you. He looked like he had been doing yard work of some sort, throwing the gloves he was wearing by the stairs that led to his side door. 

His hair was a pretty shade of brown, dark in most places but lighter in areas where the sun was kissing it. It was clearly long, but styled in a way that made it lay perfectly on the top of his head. The gold rimmed glasses that sat on his nose suited him well, complimenting the colour of his skin in a way that was extremely flattering. 

There was no way around admitting that the nameless man in front of you was the most handsome person you had laid eyes on in a very long time. 

The two of you stared at each other for longer than normal, not a word being exchanged as he stood in front of you. Each time you went to speak your words escaped you, only being able to smile brightly at him. 

It wasn’t everyday Steve found himself staring at anyone as breathtaking as you, nevermind having someone that enthralling standing on his driveway. 

The powdery pink dress you wore hugged you in all the right places, going all the way down to your ankles. The straps on the top of it were barely there, leaving the top part of your chest exposed. 

Everything from the bridge of your nose to the ends of your hair was radiant, leaving him speechless. He didn’t know if it was the sun's fault your skin looked so glowy or if you always carried such beauty with you. 

He wasn’t ignorant to the fact that you were seemingly younger than him, hoping that his staring wasn’t coming off in a way that would make you feel uncomfortable. 

You weren’t ignorant to the fact either. The only firm indication you had that he was somewhat older than you was the scruff that adorned his chin and the beginnings of wrinkles that formed when he smiled. 

“I’m so sorry about her.” His voice was as thick and smooth as honey, the sound sweet to your ears. “We were outside together and she wandered off… and I didn’t even realise until a moment ago, and now you probably think I’m a horrible parent.” 

His lips curved into a smile, freckled cheeks pressing into his eyes. 

“No! No…not at all.” You shook your head. “She didn’t stray too far anyway, I live a few houses down.” You pointed with your thumb before holding your clammy hands in front of your body. 

Your voice only made you prettier, a powdery pink haze filling his mind. 

It really was the best Father’s day ever. 

“She didn’t cause too much trouble did she?” His voice was slightly panicked, his fingers combing through his hair. 

“There was no trouble, she’s honestly the sweetest kid I’ve ever met.” You beamed. “I found her in my front garden, she thought my flowers would make a good gift for you.” 

Peeking behind his shoulder you checked to see if Daisy had come back. There was no sign of her as you looked back at the tall man in front of you. 

“She felt terrible she didn’t have a present for you, so there was no way I could say no to her.” 

He shook his head, a smile forming on his lips. As much as he didn’t love the thought of Daisy hanging around strangers, he was happy that she was at least sweet about it. 

“That… uh, that was very kind of you. Thank you for being so sweet to her.” He spoke, placing a hand in his back pocket. “Is there any way I can repay you?” 

You held your hands up, disagreeing immediately as you reached to grab a hold of the beaded necklace. 

“She already took care of it.” You could tell by his expression he was slapping himself internally. “Think I might’ve ripped her off though.” 

Steve couldn't remember the last time someone made him genuinely smile this much. He felt a bit stupid considering the fact he had been smiling from the moment he laid eyes on you, but he could and would blame that on you and the fact that you were wearing the necklace his daughter loved most. 

“I’m happy to hear that.” He shrugged. “I was worried her cuteness might’ve looped you in. Happens to me more than I’m willing to admit.” 

“Almost.” You tilted your head. “Her sob story nearly got me, but I toughed it out.”

He took his hand from his back pocket, once again wiping it on his jeans before holding it out to you. As you took his hand it was apparent his hand was much larger than yours, his hand feeling much firmer than your own. 

“I’m Steve.” He told you, shaking your hand gently. 

“Y/n.” You replied, letting his hand go after a moment. 

“Y/n.” He repeated your name. “Pleasure to meet you, thank you again for taking care of her.” 

As the words left his mouth he realised that was exactly what you did. You took care of her and looked after her, even making sure to walk her the short distance home. His chest was consumed with an unfamiliar feeling, like something was twisting and pulling at his heart. 

“It was nice to meet you too, Steve.” You backed away slowly. “I’ll see you around I’m sure.” 

“Yeah.. yeah I hope so.” He commented. “Welcome to Hawkins.” 

You walked away wearing a saccharine smile, trying to not let him catch sight of your face as you turned off his driveway. 

Steve knew for a fact you weren’t just new to the neighbourhood, he would have definitely remembered your face if he had ever seen you in town. 

Turns out, you’d be running into Steve more often than you thought. 

The first few times were when you both were crossing paths. He was leaving as you got home, or you were both heading out at the same time. 

This cycle of small talk and running into each other continued for a few weeks, neither of you daring to push the conversations much further. 

That was until one early morning around 5am. You were sitting on your front steps, a blanket wrapped around your body, a steaming cup of coffee keeping your hands warm. You were tossing and turning all night, finally giving up and deciding to start your day early. 

The sky was halfway painted with a pastel orange colour, the clouds and run rising with it. The air outside carried that crisp freshness that only the morning could bring. The grass had been tricked with dew overnight, the droplets of water beginning to clear up. 

The silence was enjoyable, the sounds of birds chirping made you feel less alone, their presence being welcomed by you. You didn’t expect anyone to be awake this early, mainly because you would never willingly wake up this early. 

Your silence was interrupted by the sounds of feet hitting against the ground. Your eyes searched for the source of the sound, not finding it right away. Turning your head a little further to the left, you were met with the sight of Steve. 

His face was flushed, a light shade of crimson sitting on top of his cheeks. He was wearing nothing but a pair of running shorts, his grey shirt hanging from his arm. Your eyes dragged down to the patch of thick hair that rested on his chest, the view of it making you pull on the skin at the back of your neck. 

Everything he did, every move he made, every piece of him you got to know more was only making him more attractive. You couldn’t fathom how you happened to move in two houses down from a man who invented the concept of dads being hot. 

You considered running into the house before he saw you, painfully aware of how you looked this early in the morning. Your hair was a bit of a mess, eyes dressed with bags, and you knew for a fact your face was still swollen with sleep. 

There was no time left to put that plan in action as he looked over at you, pushing the headphones off his head. 

“You really shouldn’t be out here all alone at this time.” His husky voice spoke as he stopped at the bottom of your stairs. 

“I could say the same about you.” You replied, clearing your throat to try and make your voice sound better. 

It was then, from the close proximity you noticed the deep spots under his eyes. He had the look of someone who was stressed out beyond belief, a certain rigidity to his whole body. 

“I’m clearing my head.” He yawned, leaning onto the wood. “What’s your excuse?” 

“Couldn’t sleep.” You told him honestly, catching his yawn after you spoke the last word. “Is something going on?” 

It might have been weird to ask him that, but you hoped he wouldn’t be taken aback by the question. 

“Ah.” He let out a deep sigh, licking his lips. “I’m gonna have to call off work for the second time this week, which you can imagine I’m not thrilled about.” 

Steve had mentioned in passing he was a paramedic. The job normally would have come with unforgiving hours, being called in at any time of the day or night. However, in a town this small, that wasn’t the case. He explained that he rarely got called in, telling you how happy he was to have a job he loved so much with hours that worked well for him. 

“Are you not feeling well?” You sounded concerned, raising your brows with worry. 

“No no, I’m okay.” He reassured you. “Daisy really hated daycare when we tried it. So usually I get one of her aunts or uncles to take her or come over and watch her, but…” Running a hand over his face he continued. “Everyone’s been so busy lately which puts me in a bit of a bind.” 

“Your wife works when you do?” Your question was genuine for the most part, an ulterior motive may have been present. Steve’s eyes widened before he smiled slowly. 

“It’s just Daisy and I.” He spoke. “Her mom’s not in the picture anymore.” 

“I’m sorry.” You shook your head, feeling embarrassed but relieved at the same time. “I had no idea.” 

“That’s okay.” He chuckled, kicking your stair with the tip of his shoe softly. “I’m sorry for dropping this all on you, I’m sure it’s the last thing you wanna hear this early.” 

The idea swirled around your head before it left your mouth. 

“I could help…if-if you wanted, that is.” Your suggestion did make his ears perk up, mouth falling slightly open. “I’m always home anyway, don’t really have a lot going on.” 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, Y/n.” There was a tenderness to his voice, one you had never had the pleasure of hearing before. 

“You didn’t ask me.” You quipped. “I offered, Steve.” 

You could tell he liked the idea, he was just contemplating whether to admit it or not. It would make his life a lot easier, and you had proven that he could trust you with his child. 

“Are you gonna let me pay you?” He asked. “Because if you try and do it for free I might just lose what’s left of my mind completely.” 

Babysitting Daisy was a breeze. 

She seemed to like you a lot which made the time you spent with her a lot easier. The two of you got up to everything from playing outside to sitting on her bedroom floor while she showed you her books for what felt like the tenth time. 

At first, Steve only called you when he exhausted all other options, not wanting to burden you constantly. 

That quickly turned into you watching her each time he worked.

Daisy had expressed to him how much she enjoyed being around you one night when Eddie showed up to watch her instead of you. 

Eddie was incredibly offended by his niece's words, not understanding why her and Steve both seemed more keen about you coming over. That was until he had the pleasure of meeting you as he came to pick Daisy up from your house one evening. 

You opened the door a few seconds after someone had knocked on it. On the other side of the door was a man who looked extremely rough around the edges, his face and clothes covered in oil. 

“Eddie, right?” You asked him, voice a little hesitant. You wanted to make sure you weren’t handing Steve’s daughter to a complete stranger and by the looks of the man in front of you, you weren’t entirely sure this was the right guy. 

“I must have the wrong house.” He froze. You were way too pretty to be Steve’s babysitter, at least much prettier than he was anticipating. Even if you were actually the babysitter, he had no idea how Steve managed to get out more than one word to you. “You’re Y/n?” 

“In the flesh.” You tried to hide your confusion at his reaction. Daisy came to save the day, running into Eddie’s legs hard enough for him to let out a groan. 

“Uncle Eddie!” She screamed, hugging one of his legs. “Are you here to get me?” 

Her little mind was going a mile a minute, not even saying goodbye to you as she walked down the front stairs. She was young so you understood how her mind sometimes flew from one place to the other with no regard. 

“Thanks.” He nodded in your direction. The longer he thought about it, the more he understood why Steve was such a fan of you. Eddie imagined if he had such a pretty babysitter he’d want her around all the time too.

As you closed the door you could hear the pair bickering. Eddie let out a laugh, telling Daisy to stop pretending like she was happy to see him. 

You hoped not all of Steve’s friends were as strange as Eddie. 

Slowly, you began watching Daisy at Steve’s house more often. It was easier for you to be there so she didn’t have to bring a bag and all her toys with her. 

You had begun to pick up on housework while you were there. Doing the dishes, keeping everything tidy, and making dinner every night you were there, leaving more than enough in the fridge for Steve when he retired home. You usually only washed Daisy’s laundry, but on occasion you found yourself washing the dirty laundry that he was too busy to get around to. 

He was paying you way too much for you to just sit around and watch her anyway, so you insisted this was how you made things even. 

Steve would make a fuss about it sometimes, but he would be lying if he said he had a problem with it. It was nice to not have to worry about certain things after long days or nights at work.

He liked having you around, probably more than he should have. 

There was a tension growing between you and Steve, one that could only be ignored for so long. It was the kind of tension that was created when two people were obviously and painfully attracted to one another. 

It started with Steve having to watch you move around his kitchen, knowing where everything was placed, knowing exactly how he liked it. It progressed with the pride you felt each time he commented on how well you did something, your body burning with a sensation that only Steve could bring to you. 

Many stolen moments shared between the two of you continued to make the tension thicker. 

The short dresses you wore around him made it hard for him to breathe, his eyes not being able to leave your figure no matter how hard he tried. When you bent over to grab something the dress would rise up the backs of your thighs, exposing your body to him more than he thought he deserved. 

Reluctantly, he’d drag his gaze away before you turned back around, focusing on calming himself down and getting rid of the twitch in his cock. Part of him hoped you did it on purpose, that these moments weren’t a series of accidents that he happened to bear witness to. 

Steve didn’t make it easy for you either. 

He would always place a hand on your hip as he squeezed behind you, his front brushing against your ass as he moved. His hot whisper of ‘sorry, honey.’ played through your mind for hours each time he said it. 

You never missed the way he stared at you when you arrived at his house. His eyes examining you for a moment too long, making their way back up to yours where he would smile at you softly. 

You weren’t much better, the sight of him in his clothes for work had you in a tight grip, making it impossible to look anywhere but at his arms in that shirt that was a size too small. 

These moments were why you were shocked and hurt in a strange way when Steve called you one afternoon, asking you if you could come watch Daisy. 

“I thought tonight was your night off?” You frowned a bit, hating that he kept getting called into work last minute. 

“It is.” He felt a lump in his throat, the hand that wasn’t holding the receiver was on his hip. “I uh…I have a date tonight.” 

You never thought that four short words could leave you feeling so many things at one time. There was a pain biting at your heart, its teeth sinking into your skin hard enough to make your entire chest throb. 

The root of the pain was unidentifiable. There was jealousy and betrayal present, playing their roles together to leave you feeling like a fool for thinking that a man like Steve would ever want anything to do with you. 

You were his babysitter, nothing more. 

“Oh.” You sounded surprised. Steve could picture the ways your lips were curling in, a hand coming up to smooth your shirt down to cover up the fact that something was bothering you. 

Steve was only doing this as a poor attempt to resolve whatever feelings he was having for you. He thought there was a chance seeing someone else could work out and he would maybe be able to stop thinking about waking up next to you on slow mornings and kissing you each time he walked through his front door. 

Through this all, he found himself refraining from thinking about how things could have been between the two of you if this one small detail had been different. He knew there was no good in dwelling in what could have been, but he wondered if these thoughts ever crossed your mind. 

“Yeah, yeah I can come watch her.” You cleared your throat. “What time did you want me over?” 

He had never heard you like this. Choked up. Like there was something wrapping around your vocal chords, not allowing you to say what you really wanted to. 

“How’s seven?” He asked, the thought of cancelling the date bouncing around his head. 

“Whatever you need.” You tried to sound happier, but you failed miserably. Your remark came off caustic, leaving Steve with a sour taste in his mouth the rest of the day. 

You wanted to cancel on him last minute, ruining any prospects of his date going well. However, you didn’t have it in you to do something cruel to Steve when he was the last person in the world who deserved it. 

So, you went to watch Daisy at seven. 

Steve told you he would be home by ten and he didn’t lie. Right at ten he unlocked the door, seeing you sitting on his couch watching some random movie. 

He was relieved to see you, a faint feeling of happiness lingering within him as he stepped into his house. His date was nothing short of horrible and he had spent the majority of the time counting down the minutes until he could return home again. 

“Hey.” He whispered. “Is she asleep?” 

“Of course.” You hummed, standing up and gathering your things. You didn’t want to have to be around him for longer than you needed to. Pushing your feelings down was only going to work for so long, and looking Steve in the eye would have been what made them come right back up. 

“Thank you, I know it was short notice.” He walked closer to you, sensing this new kind of tension, one that he wasn’t so fond of. Steve grabbed his wallet, reaching for what he owed you plus a little bit extra. 

“It’s not a big deal.” You smiled softly, grabbing the money from him and putting your shoes on. “I’ll talk to you soon.” 

And with that you left. There was no goodbye, no asking him about his time out, and for the first time since he met you he didn’t get to hear your laugh as he made some stupid joke.

With that, he couldn’t help but notice the dishes weren't done and Daisy’s toys still scattered around the floor, left for him to clean up. It wasn’t like you had to do those things, but you always did. The fact that you didn’t do them should have had Steve running out the door after you, begging you to tell him what was wrong. 

But he didn’t. He stood there alone in his living room, frozen in place. 

For the first time in months, Steve’s warm and lively home went back to feeling like a cold and lonely house. 

Steve going on dates became a regular thing. At least once a week he was taking out some woman who he barely had any interest in, hoping he might like her more than the last. He felt like he was fresh out of highschool again, looking for someone to mend the hole in his heart that Nancy Wheeler had left behind. 

Only this time, he wasn’t trying to fill the hole someone else put there, he was trying to heal the wound in his heart that came from the knife he twisted. The job to fix it this time wasn’t easy, not when the women he was seeing were all dull and boring, not being able to make him feel a fraction of the way you did. Steve felt old again, like the single dad that couldn’t land more than a shitty one night stand. 

Part of you felt bad that all of his dates were going terribly.

He never went into the details much with you but you could tell by the way he looked that he was happy to return home after each one. He looked more drained than he did before he left, a deep sigh leaving his lips as he hung his jacket up. 

Steve was always home before 10pm, walking in either a few minutes before or right as the clock struck the hour, he was never a minute late. You were caught between thinking he did that to leave the dates earlier and to keep his word true, not wanting to make you feel like your time was something he would throw away.

Slowly, you grew to tolerate him going on dates. Swallowing down the poison that threatened to spill out of your mouth and stopping the tears that sometimes burned the back of your eyes. 

You both noticed that everything shifted back to how it was before that first date. From the extra work you did for him to the stolen intimate moments the two of you shared like a secret, whispering in the late hours of the night under the covers of a bed.  

That was until one gloomy Friday night. You made the short walk to Steve’s house, pulling the baby blue cardigan you wore over your body further, the wind being extremely unforgiving.​​ The white dress you wore was bright looking compared to the dark conditions outside. The clouds were a mean shade of grey, preparing to let out their anger in the form of cold droplets and cracks of thunder. 

You rarely knocked on the door anymore, letting yourself in with a faint greeting to anyone who may have been close by. As you walked onto the carpet at his front door you weren’t met with the usual sounds of Steve and Daisy singing, or the television being a little too loud as she sat in front of it, barely watching it as she played with her bead kit. 

Daisy was sobbing her little eyes out, whole body shaking in Steve’s arms. You were immediately panicked, heart dropping to the floor as you tried to understand what was happening. She didn’t cry often at all, in fact this was only the second time you had ever seen it happen. 

“Sweetie.” Steve sighed defeatedly, his white button up covered in her tears. “The sky is only a little dark, I’m sure it’s only gonna be a little rain, I promise.”

“Don’t go.” Her voice wobbled with fear, small hands clinging to the collar of his shirt. “Daddy I-I don’t want you to go.” 

You knew that might have just done him in completely. Daisy had that man wrapped around her tiny little finger, knowing exactly what she needed to say to get Steve to give in. She never did it in a bad way, only ever using her power to guilt trip him when absolutely necessary. 

Steve lifted her up, rubbing her back in soft circles as he turned around to see you. He gave you a sad look, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’. You only shook your head, coming closer to him and craning your neck to look at her tearful face. 

“Sweet Daisy.” You frowned, wiping one of her tears. “What’s going on?” 

“T-there’s gonna be a storm.” She breathed. “I don’t like thunder…I need Dad to stay and protect me.” You nod your head, thinking for a second. 

“I see.” You hummed. “That’s a real shame…because I had a really important secret to tell you once he left…” You sighed dramatically. “But I guess if I can’t protect you from the thunder…” 

“No!” She gasped, leaning off of Steve’s chest. “You promise you’ll save me from the thunder?” Her eyes were wide with excitement, the idea of getting to know a secret taking over whatever bad thoughts she was having. 

“I promise!” You held your hands up, “Wouldn’t let anything hurt you.” She squirmed in Steve’s arms, shouting something about changing into her pyjamas so she could be comfortable while you told her the secret.

He let out a painful noise as she ran up the stairs to her room. 

“I should stay here.” He shook his head. “If it actually starts to storm I’m going to feel like the worst.” 

“Steve.” You smiled sadly. “You’re far from the worst and she’s really lucky.” You whispered, noticing how handsome he looked right now. His hair was pushed back, one single strand of hair not getting enough gel, hanging in front of his face. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, releasing his pink lips from the tight line they were in. 

“I’ve got her if anything happens okay?” You hum. “She’s gonna be just fine with me here.” 

Steve was looking at you with nothing but adoration. His friends who he considered family all loved Daisy and cared for her greatly. But he was yet to find someone outside that circle, someone whom he wanted in a different way who cared for his daughter as much as you did. 

The way he was looking at you was making the lock that kept your feelings away come undone, letting them trickle out of their hiding place slowly. 

“Okay.” His voice was soft. “I trust you.” 

“Good.” You bit back a smile. “Because your collar looks absolutely horrendous.” Without thinking you reached up for it, smoothing the stiff fabric down. 

“Are you nervous?” You were trying to calm him down from what just happened, really not caring to know much about how he was feeling about a date that was with someone who wasn’t you. 

“Not really.” He watched as you fixed his shirt for him, your eyes focused on what you were doing. He noticed the way your nose twitched when you were focused, scrunching up when you were really trying to get something right. “I haven’t seen her since highschool, so it should be interesting.” 

You tried to avoid thinking about the fact that this person might not have been a total stranger to Steve, making the chances of this being a good date slightly more probable. 

Reaching behind his neck you smoothed the fold of his collar down. He didn’t know what to do with his hands as you worked at making him look presentable. Did he hold them in front of his body? Did he put them behind his back? Did he rest them on your hips like he so badly desired to? 

“Oh my, since highschool?” You breathed. “That was what? Forty years ago?” 

Your eyes flicked away from his shirt to look at him. He was still looking at you, nodding his head as he chuckled. 

“Forty years!” He laughed, making you let out the giggle you had been holding in. “I see how it is!” 

You lost track of what you were supposed to be doing, your hands resting flat on his shoulders as you both shared a playful string of banter through fits of laughter. Steve had more fun in those three minutes than he had on the hours he had spent out on dates combined. 

Your touch, your smile, your laugh, they filled his body with so much joy that for a second he forgot that you weren’t the woman he’d be seeing tonight. 

Once the sounds of laughter died down you removed your hands from his body, backing away a bit as you gestured to his shirt. 

“You’re all ready to go.” You told him, looking towards the stairs as you heard Daisy trampling down them as fast as she could. “And I think she’s ready for you to leave.” 

Your suspicions were proved correct when Daisy began basically shoving Steve out the door, saying goodbye to him as fast as she could. His exit was a rushed mess of him trying to bargain with her for a hug, but not being surprised when she barely gave in.

Next came the part of the routine that never changed. 

“I’ll be back before ten!” He shouted as he closed the door. 

11:47pm. 

You had been staring at the clock that hung in the middle of Steve’s living room for so long that you could barely read it anymore. 

You checked it once, then twice, then finally you ran to the kitchen to check the clock there, not believing what you were seeing. 

11:49pm. 

“What the…” You whispered under your breath, a hand making its way to your head. 

Steve was never late, nevermind nearly two hours late. Your mind ran rampant with terrible thoughts, anxiety serging through your veins as each new idea formed. You tried your hardest to not let yourself think that something bad had happened to him despite how badly you wanted to believe it. 

Daisy had fallen asleep a half hour ago, but not after she asked you a plethora of questions about where Steve was. It felt impossible to try and calm her nerves when your own were burning at the ends, the sparks catching on each dendrite, setting everything on fire from synapse to synapse. 

The worry you felt was intense, making your jaw tense, your teeth grinding together. Your nails dug into your palms, the dread trying to claw its way up your throat and take you under completely. 

As you searched through the notepad that was hung on the fridge for Robin’s phone number, the phone that sat on the end table by Steve’s couch began to ring. The buzzing of the phone scared the life out of you, putting you even further on edge. 

Your shaky hands grasped the receiver, bringing it to your ear. 

“Hello?” You tried to sound a bit more lively than you felt, not wanting the person on the other end to know something was wrong. 

“Shit, Yn.” He uttered. “I didn’t even realise the time, I’m so sorry.” 

Your heart felt heavy, like a large rock that had been thrown into a body of water. You were relieved to hear his voice, to know that regardless of what happened he sounded like he was okay.

“Steve.” Your voice trembled, your fingers squeezed the coiled wire of the phone. Before you could ask a question, he was speaking again, obviously being rushed for a reason that was unknown to you. 

“I called Robin, and she’s gonna come and pick up Daisy.” He spoke. 

“What? Why?” Your confusion was like a thick fog, covering everything around you and making it hard to see. 

“It’s late and I feel bad for not calling.” His speech sounded distracted, as if he was trying to listen to the chatter behind him as he spoke. “I don’t want you to be waiting around for me.” 

You didn’t know what to say, so you said nothing, waiting for his voice to fill the silence again. 

“Steve! Let’s go!” You heard the voice of a woman from his end, all high-pitched and filled with giggles. 

You felt sick to your stomach. 

You thought that something bad had happened to him. You were genuinely worried that the reason he wasn’t home and hadn’t called was because some unfortunate event took place. Not once did you consider the notion that Steve might have just been having fun and for once enjoying himself on a date. 

You felt so stupid for believing any of the lies you were feeding yourself. You got worked up over nothing, your worry turning into a burning feeling of betrayal. 

“I’ve gotta go, okay?” His voice was a little louder now. “I’ll come by tomorrow to pay you.” 

The line went dead. 

Steve was never this short with you, nevermind not doing as little as saying goodbye to you. 

It hit you slowly, putting together the pieces that told you exactly why Robin was picking up Daisy and why Steve insisted you head home. 

He probably wasn’t going to be returning home alone. 

The house felt dark, the ghosts standing in the room with you were the only things keeping you company. Everything was too quiet in contrast to the beating of your heart, throbbing against your chest like it never had. 

Robin showed up not long after, helping you peel Daisy from her bed. Luckily her sleep was enough to stop her from asking too many questions, her little eyes barely being able to stay open as Robin carried her downstairs. 

You had met Robin on a few different occasions, and given the way she was looking at you, she knew something you didn’t. 

Truly, she was sick of listening to Steve talk about you and do nothing about it. So, to see you in his house looking like a sad puppy made her want to kick him right in the ribs. 

After she had left you felt even lonelier than before, the absence of Daisy allowing you to experience your emotions even heavier. You decided to quickly clean up before you left, thinking that this might be the last time you babysit for Steve for quite some time. 

This tug of war with your heart was getting hard again, slowly becoming unbearable. For the first time in the months you knew him, the flirting and moments you shared didn’t seem intimate at all, they seemed like a really good way for him to string you along and win himself more favours. 

You refused to cry about something like this, not here, not in the four walls of his house. 

The sound of the water running as you washed dishes almost covered up the sound of the front door opening. Your ears perked up, listening to hear if he was alone or not, getting ready to awkwardly excuse yourself. You didn’t expect him to be home within an hour, not by the way he was talking over the phone. 

You didn’t hear any voices, no noises that would have signified someone was with him. There was only the sounds of him kicking his shoes off, feet padding to where you were. You kept your back turned to him, focusing on finishing up with the four items you had left to wash. 

“Honey…” His voice was thick with regret. He didn’t think you would have bothered to stay a moment longer than you needed to. 

But of course you did. 

You didn’t respond, not even acknowledging his existence. Your silence was deafening as well, causing a ringing in his ears the longer he listened to the sounds of water hitting the bottom of the sink. 

“Y/n.” His voice grew closer, his feet taking a soft step in your direction. 

You placed a plate in the dish rack, reaching and grabbing a dirty glass. 

Steve felt a lump growing in his throat, a lump made up of worry and fear, similar to the one that lived in your throat as you waited for him to come home. He would understand if you were mad at him for not calling, maybe you had plans after being here tonight and he ruined them, or maybe you just wanted to go home and- 

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” You seethed, wiping the outside of the glass, not turning to look at Steve. 

His face grew softer, the wrinkles on his forehead smoothing out. 

“You’re never late and that would have been fine if you just called sooner.” He could see how tense you were, shoulders moving ridgeley with every syllable. 

Oh. 

“I thought something happened.” Your voice cracked. “I thought you got into an accident or got hurt.” The cloth slid into the glass, your hand cleaning the inside of it. “Do you know how fucking scary that was?” 

Oh. 

You weren’t mad at him, not in the way that he was anticipating. You were worried about him, the kind of worry that made you anxious and restless. He had to fight every urge to come and grab your face, to kiss you so softly that you forgot why you were worrying, being blissfully reminded that he was standing right in front of you. 

“God, Steve.” Your eyes close, head tilting back slightly. “I was so relieved to hear your voice for a second.” You looked at him, hurt etched into your usually glowing irises. “But then you made me feel like an idiot for worrying in the first place.” 

“Hey now.” He stepped toward you, reaching a hand out to hold your shoulder. 

“Don’t!” You barked, going to step away from him. Encapsulated in your sadness, you forgot about the glass around your hand, slamming it against the sink. 

The glass shattered, the debris flying all around the sink. The sound of it was loud, louder than the frustration that was booming in your head, pulling you back down to earth. A gasp fell from your lips as you felt something tearing at the skin of your palm. 

You pulled your hand back from the sink, your other grabbing your wrist and holding it tightly. 

“Jesus, Y/n!” Steve bellowed, grabbing the kitchen towel from by the stove. He reached for your hand again, unhappy to see you pull away from him. 

“It was an accident!” You trembled, the blood dripping from your hand onto the wood floor beneath your feet. You hated how upset he sounded, your face burning with embarrassment over what you just did. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft spoken, his warm hand finding safety on your forearm. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice, but you’re hurt and you need to let me help you.” 

His hazel eyes searched yours for forgiveness, not only for yelling, but for everything that had gone wrong tonight.

“Okay.” You put your guard back down, letting him in again. He took your injured hand and wrapped the towel around it, placing your other hand back on top to hold it there. 

Steve guided you upstairs and into the bathroom, rinsing your hand off as gently as he possibly could. He stood behind you, his chest pressed against your back as he made you keep your hand under the water. 

The close proximity made it hard to breathe. The smell of his cologne filled your nose, notes of cedarwood and bergamot dancing around you. The scent was one that over time you began to associate with him, goosebumps growing along your skin with each whiff of it you got. 

What nearly pushed you over the edge was the way he was whispering words of encouragement to you as he poured alcohol onto your wound. 

“Just a little longer, okay? You’re being real strong.” “Breath for me, you’re okay.” “I’ve got you, honey, I’m right here.” 

The winces you were letting out weren’t all from the pain of your cut, but rather the sting that each thing he said was leaving behind.

Once he got the bleeding to stop enough, he took you into his bedroom. You had been in his room only a handful of times, coming in to grab his laundry without taking time to really look around. 

It was exactly what you expected his room to look like. The walls were all a plain cream colour, nothing on them. The floors were carpeted unlike the hallway, the brown material feeling nice on your feet. All of the furniture in the room was wooden from his bed frame to the thick walnut desk in the corner. The desk and the shelf next to it were covered in framed pictures. Most of them were of him and Daisy but the other few were of his friends whom he considered family. 

“Sit up here.” He tapped the desk lighty. You manoeuvred your way onto it the best you could without putting much force onto your palm. Steve opened a few different drawers, grabbing the various supplies he needed to help you. 

“My job comes in handy a lot more than you’d think.” He set everything down next to you, turning the lamp on the desk on. A yellow glow illuminated his face, extenuating his features in a way that made him somehow look better than he did before. 

“I can imagine.” Your voice was softer than before. You felt yourself retreating, opening the curtains again for him. He slipped himself between your legs, fixing the end of your dress so it was covering your knees. 

Steve was doing everything he could to make you feel comfortable, like he always did. You were hurt by his actions, but felt like a child for how you handled the situation. A swift feeling of regret filled you, making your gaze shift to his face. 

“Gonna bring your hand up, yeah?” He waited for some sign of you agreeing before lifting your hand closer to his face. “I can see a few pieces of glass in there, so I’m gonna take them out and then we can wrap it up for you.” 

“Okay.” You were trying to keep calm as he grabbed a pair of tweezers. His eyelashes fluttered as he plucked out a small shard of glass, dropping it into the small bowl of water he placed beside you. 

Steve looked so focused, barely breathing each time he brought the tweezers to your hand. The feeling was bearable at first, but the stinging quickly became a lot to handle. You let out a sharp squeak as he had to push the tweezers a bit deeper. 

“I’m sorry.” He glanced up at you, staring at you as he let you settle from the pain. “You should try and distract yourself, it’ll hurt a lot less.”

“How should I go about doing that?” You asked. 

“Talk to me.” He offered plainly, raising his eyebrows for a second. 

You knew he wanted to discuss the events of the night, so you decided to dip your foot into those waters hoping they weren’t going to be as cold as you anticipated. 

“I take you had a good time tonight.” The comment was seemingly genuine, but there was something bitter about the way it rolled off your tongue. 

Steve avoided eye contact after you said it, not replying as he sucked in a deep breath. 

“No, I really didn’t.” He spoke finally. “I had a pretty terrible time.” 

To say you were confused was an understatement. Nothing about the way the evening played out implied that he had a bad time from returning late to the laughter of the woman who was rushing him off the phone. 

You tilted your head quizzically, watching every small twitch on his face. 

“What happened?” You blurted out, wishing you had taken an extra second to think of something better to say. 

He continued picking the glass from your skin, glancing up at you for not even half a second. 

“We went to dinner, and it was fine.” He mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. “Then she suggested going to this bar.” His voice trailed off as he shook his head slightly. “And we ran into a few people…Eddie and Dustin and a few other people from highschool.” 

There’s a hint of pent up frustration in his voice, a tone so deep that its thickness was built up by an ongoing feeling of resentment.��

“She got really drunk.” His nostrils flared. “And by that point the date was more than over. She found someone else to entertain her. When I called you I was about to drop her off at home, which was probably the best part of the whole date.” 

He wasn’t rushed on the phone so he could run off with his date. He was rushed because he was uncomfortable, wanting nothing more than to leave and be home. 

Steve was a lot of things, but most of all he was a really good person. Of course he wasn’t going to leave her drunk at a bar, he was going to be the one to take her home and make sure she got in safe. Even if she made his night horrible, he wasn’t the type of man to storm off and leave her to fend for herself. 

“I’m so sorry.” Your words dripped with guilt. Steve wouldn’t meet your stare, keeping his eyes directed on your hand. 

“Don't be sorry…the dates are always the same.” He muttered. “I show up and they talk about themselves the whole time.” A sigh falls from his lips. “They have no interest in me or at least it dies off pretty quickly after they find out I have a kid.” 

After his fourth date with a different woman, you began to wonder why he never made it to a second date with any of them.

“But I guess I'm no better.” He pushed his glasses off his face, letting them sit on his head where they look like they’re about to fall off. You felt the burn of the alcohol seeping into your cut, the sensation making you bite back a wince.

“What makes you say that?” You reached with your free hand, taking his glasses off his scalp, placing them on the top of the shelf next to you. 

“Because the whole time they’re talking I’m thinking about someone else.” His gaze flicked up to yours, eyes locking like magnets. 

You felt paralyzed, not one part of your body daring to move in a way that might be even a little bit noticeable. Trying to process what you heard, you remained speechless. You thought you were out of the woods for a brief moment, the guilt you felt being accompanied by selfish relief. 

“Someone else?” You blinked rapidly. 

Steve couldn’t help but to be amused at your innocence regarding the subject. His lips were being tugged at the edges as he fought off the smile he so badly wanted to show you. 

“Someone else.” He confided. “Someone who listens to me, and cares about what I have to say. Someone who cares about my daughter almost as much as I do.” 

Your heart was working incredibly fast, beating in large thrums as it pumped your blood through your veins. The blood rushed through your body, making a pulse appear in every place where one could form. 

Steve cut and measured a bandage, the metal scissors making a clicking noise as they hit the desk. As he wrapped it around your hand, he kept talking. 

“I can’t stop thinking about her.” He released, securing the bandage by placing it around your hand a few times. “

“I can’t get the smell of her vanilla perfume out of my head and I really can’t stop wondering if that lipgloss she loves so much is anywhere as sweet as she is.” His voice was as soft as the silk of your pillowcase, keeping your face and hair safe as you slept. 

Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it, the sound filling his ears the same way it filled yours. 

He was talking about you. He was talking about the vanilla perfume you sprayed on each morning you left your house, making sure to put it in places it would stick. He was referring to the lip gloss that sat on your lips as he spoke, the strawberry flavour filling your mouth more than it ever had. 

“And sometimes I think about those nights when I come home and find her asleep on my couch…” Steve places your hand down in your lap, never letting go of it. 

“I never wanna wake her up.” His fingers reach out, pushing a small piece of hair from your face. “I wanna put a blanket over her and let her sleep soundly… or carry her up to my bed and let her sleep comfortably next to me.” 

Steve looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever set his sights on. Your beauty was intoxicating, making it hard to concentrate on anything but the way your smile was visible on your entire face. 

Steve thought he would have noticed the day that his innocent fondness for you grew into something more, but he didn’t. 

Maybe he would have if he was paying more attention, but he was too busy loving every moment he got to spend with you. He was hypnotised by how much he liked you to realise how hard he was falling for you. He was too distracted by the constant voice in his head telling him this was wrong to notice that you felt the exact same way. 

Your stomach contracted, nerves forming there and balling together. The hairs on your body stood on end, the air in the room feeling ice cold. 

Though it was obvious who he was talking about, you played along with the idea that you had no clue. 

“Why don’t you take this someone else out?” You put forth, not moving your hand from where it rested in his. There were freckles on his cheeks, spreading down his neck like the stars in the sky, making you want to reach out and touch them. 

“I’m not sure she sees me like that.” He said honestly, looking from your lips back to your eyes. 

“You won’t know for sure until you say something to her.” You hum, the pain that lived in your hand faded into the background, along with the hurt you were feeling earlier. 

“It’s more than that.” He shook his head. “I’m worried she might find this whole thing inappropriate and think I’m a terrible person.” His face held a genuine concern, one that you had yet to see from him. He was afraid of disappointing you and making you think of him in a way that was all too familiar with his younger self. 

“I promise you.” You sat up further, a begging look on your face. “She could never think anything negative about you.” 

Steve wanted to accept what you were saying as the truth, but a small part of him was still ridden with some kind of worry. 

“I’m still not sure it’s the best idea.” He whispered, his large hand cupping your cheek like it was a snowflake, delicate and light, melting if he touched it too roughly. 

“Steve.” You begged, his heart aching so strongly he felt it in his back. You pushed into his touch, rubbing your cheek on the palm of his hand. 

Slowly, you moved further to the edge of the desk, pressing your thighs into the sides of his. Your dress rode up, the edge of it sitting in the middle of the doughy part of your leg. You felt him move closer, pressing himself into the wood. 

“Tell me this is okay.” He whispered, both hands holding the base of your jaw up to your cheeks. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you either…no matter how much I try.” You breath, your hands wrapped around both his wrists. 

The longer he stared at you, feeling your breath fanning his face, the softer his expression got and the closer he got to giving in. 

“Please.” You say so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. It was the final push he needed to allow himself to give in to the thing you both so badly wanted. 

Steve rested his forehead on yours for a second, resting there as he attempted to ground himself. You stayed there peacefully, soaking it up just in case it was the first and last time you were going to be this close to him. 

After what felt like a lifetime of waiting, he tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a kiss so sweet that happiness threatened to spill from your eyes. 

Steve took his time with you, kissing you so slowly that it felt like your heart was going to give out on you. His lips moved against yours like they had been there before, knowing each curve of them and exactly what to do to make you feel like you were floating. 

Your lips were softer than he ever imagined, and your lip gloss was just as sweet as he was hoping it would be. Everything about you from the tickle of your breath to the smell of your hair was making a warm sensation blossom in Steve’s chest, taking over all of his senses. 

Every inch of you was lit up with an incandescent glow, a garden blooming in your stomach, its roots travelling to intertwine around your heart. Steve’s hands on your face, his lips on yours, they were lighting you up in a way you never experienced before. 

Your hands travelled down his arms, curving down his neck to rest upon his chest. Right there, a little adjacent to where his heart lived, you could feel it beating against his chest so hard it felt like it was trying to escape from his ribcage. 

“You okay?” You grinned against his lips, not being able to stop it no matter how hard you tried. The feeling of your hand resting on his chest made Steve dizzy, making him feel like he was a lovesick teenager again. 

“Barely hanging on here.” His smile was impossibly large, causing a giggle to fall from your lips. 

Hesitantly, he moved a hand, pressing it onto your chest, over your dress, and above your left breast, holding it there flat. Your eyes were inviting him in, a silent and unspoken way of telling him this was still okay. 

“Are you okay?” He whispered with a smile, feeling your heart beating against your chest. 

“Hanging on.” A whispered giggled was pushed from your diaphragm. “By a thread.” Your comment was meant to be a playful push back at what he said, only it was the truth. 

He rubbed the tip of his nose on yours, the back and forth motion sending a tickle straight through you. The action was filled with care, but within it there was the promise of something more, telling you this wasn’t where he planned on leaving things. 

“Have you thought about this before?” He asks. The question would have been innocent if it weren’t for the heat emitting off his body, making the knots of sexual tension between the two of you come undone. 

“Many times.” You admit, your fingers playing with the top button of his shirt. Steve leaned into your touch, his hands moving to rest on your covered thighs. 

“Is this how you imagined it?” Though his breath is hot against your face, the chill that creeps down your back is cold. 

“Sometimes yeah.” Your eyes meet him as you pull the button out of the fabric, fingers carefully moving to the next one. “Usually there’s a lot more kissing.” 

Steve laughs softly, planting a kiss on your cheek, then another, and one more after that. He leaves a chaste kiss on your lips, one that has you longing for more. 

Another button pops undone, dark brown chest hair peeking out at you. 

“Have you thought about this?” You ask him, leaving a sticky strawberry scented kiss on his freckled cheek. 

His fingertips glide down, coming in contact with the bare skin of your knee as they creep under the fabric of your dress. 

“Many times.” He whispers, his own body suffering from the pain that anticipation brings. 

“Is this how you pictured it?” Your voice is gentle as you take out the fourth button, leaving Steve’s chest exposed. 

“Normally I’d have you in my bed by now.” He smiles at the noise you let out, a mix of a hum and a whine. 

There’s a syrupy smile on your face, a kind of smile you wear when you finally get something you want and are able to hold it in your hands finally. 

His hands are up on the dough of your thighs now, thumbs rubbing soft back and forth motions there. The whole thing is intimate and sweet, confessions being spilled between two people who yearn for each other. 

As you undo the final button your hand pushes against this bare torso, encouraging him to step back. 

Of course he does, letting you know that you’re in control as much as he is. His blood runs cold for a second as you slide off the hard desk, careful to not put much pressure on your hand. 

His brain runs crazy with the idea that something is wrong, like the reality of the situation just settled into you and you’re about to go home and never speak to him again. 

Steve is too stunned to speak, body turning slowly as he watches you for the first time ever rest your body against his bed. The white of your dress stands out against the darker colours in his room. Your being there added a lightness to the room, a gentle beauty that he alone could never bring into the space. 

“Now I’m in your bed.” You mused. The way he was staring at you was making you nervous, palms growing clammy as you waited for him to make a move. 

He hides a smile as he nods, walking over to where you’re laying. You feel the bed dip beside you, one of Steve’s knees pressing into the mattress between your legs. He rests a forearm onto the pillow beside your head, his face inches from yours. 

“And now you’re in my bed.” He beamed, kissing you slowly. 

The kiss was a bit more rushed this time but still as gentle as it could possibly be. Your lips parted slightly, allowing him to slot his tongue into your mouth, earning a soft moan from you. 

You pushed the wrinkled fabric of his shirt off his shoulder, pleased as he tried to work it off his body without removing his mouth from yours. Once it was off you ran your hands along his naked shoulders, ending your movement at the back of his neck where you scratched his skin kindly. The sound that leaves his throat is a groan that he tried to swallow, the noise getting caught in his throat. 

His palm smoothes over the skin of your thigh, fingers bringing the light fabric of your dress up, exposing your panties to him. He doesn’t break away to look at your body, instead letting his fingertips explore the new land that was your skin. 

Steve’s fingers trace where the lace rests on your hip, making his way around to where it rests below your tummy. There’s butterflies growing everywhere he touches, fluttering their wings against you where the feeling of his fingertips linger. 

There’s an ache that starts in your stomach, extending down to where you need him most. 

Right when you think he’s about to give you the satisfaction of a small touch, his hand makes its way back around to your thigh, squeezing your skin. 

“I’m gonna take these off, baby.” It’s both a statement and a question as he hooks a finger under the band of your panties. 

“Okay.” You say, reeling at the sound of him calling you something so sweet. You lift your hips for him, making it easier for him to slide your panties down your legs. 

He rewards the action with a kiss to your knee, a silent ‘thank you’. 

You didn’t realise how wet you actually were until the sticky lace was pulled from your core, a string of slick falling onto the sheets below you. You would have been embarrassed in any other situation, an apology forming on your tongue but quickly fading as you hear a guttural moan from Steve. 

“God, you’re beautiful.” He spreads your thighs open, leaving you on full display for him. His thumb runs along the edge of your dripping cunt, his mouth ajar as he watches how easily you open up for him. 

“Steve.” You whine, his mostly unintentional teasing becoming unbearable. Your hips jerk up off the bed, searching for his touch. He firmly presses them back into the bed, his hand holding them down as he eases down to lay beside you. 

“I’m right here.” He hums, holding your thighs open. “I’ve got you.” 

Before you can take another breath you feel his fingers gathering some of your slick, dragging it through your folds up to the bundle of nerves at the top of your cunt. He rubs your clit slowly, circling it with just enough pressure. A sharp sound of pleasure falls from your parted lips, eyebrows knitting as you relax into this feeling. 

Steve’s face is above yours, his elbow propping him up over you slightly. He’s watching every move of your face, enjoying every small sound you’re making while he strokes your cunt. Your body is still slightly rigid, he can see how hard you’re trying to stay still. 

“Sweetheart.” He whispers, moving toward you so that his body is resting against your own. He lets himself rest on his forearm again, pressing it above your head. “Breathe for me.” 

You move as close as you can get to him, turning your body so you’re facing him, a leg resting over top of his. You let out a shaky breath, holding his face loosely with your hand. His fingers and moving down every so often, the tips of them dipping into you before pulling back up to your clit as if he was playing an instrument. 

He kisses you delicately, pink lips moving against yours with tender care. His middle finger slides into you with ease, your body accepting it greedily. You keep kissing him, small hums vibrating through your body as he works his finger in and out of you. When he slips in a second finger, you break the kiss, moaning right into his open mouth as he curls the digits deep inside you. 

“That feel good, honey?” He asks with a smile, lips ghosting over yours as he continues the exact same motion. 

“Uh huh” You mewl, letting your swollen lips brush on his. You can barely think with his fingers inside you, the feeling of them blurring your thoughts almost completely. 

“You wear such pretty dresses when you come over.” His voice is deeper than before as he looks from the material back up to your eyes. “Are they for me?” 

There’s a new confidence in his voice, comfort and trust settling in, allowing him to say everything he’s wanted to for months. 

His fingers physically can't get any deeper, so he brings his thumb up to brush against your clit. You’re giving him the sweetest sounds he has ever heard and he hopes he can remember them forever. 

“They’re for you.” You manage to say at the end of a deep breath. “Wanted…” A whine rips through you. “Wanted your attention.” 

“That’s real sweet, baby.” He presses a long kiss to your forehead. The kiss is filled with love rather than lust, your words making Steve burn with the urge to care for you. 

He moves his hand a little faster, the sticky sounds of your cunt hitting against his hand filling the bedroom. He’s still managing to curl his fingers inside of you, your nails scraping against the slope of his shoulder. 

“You always have my attention, hm?” He tells you truthfully, feeling you arch into his hand. You can’t reply, only gasping at the feeling blooming in your lower abdomen. 

“Think about you the whole time I’m out.” He murmurs. “Come home early just to see you again, I can never help myself.” 

Your head is leaning against his shoulder as you sob out an obscene noise, your eyes shut tight. You’re clenching around him hard, your walls closing with every word that leaves his mouth. 

“S-Steve.” You swallow, breath ragged as the feeling below grows stronger. “I want you…I want you inside me.” 

Your words make his cock harden in his pants, straining against the black material uncomfortably. He so badly wants to let you have him, but he knows better than to try and fuck you without making you cum atleast once. 

“Need you to cum for me.” You’re rolling your hips against his hand, searching for more friction. “You’re so fucking tight, honey. You won’t be able to take it if you don’t cum for me.” 

“Can take it, Steve.” You pull your face from his arm, a weepy look on your features. “Please let me have it.” 

You’re desperate for him and you’re desperate to cum, the combination making you relentless to get what you want.  

“You gonna be good for me?” He looks at you, eyes gente but stern as he speaks. “Be good for me, sweetheart, come on.” 

The thrusting of his fingers keeps up, giving extra attention to the skin over your clit. Your thighs are shaking slightly, the muscles getting tight as you try and focus on letting yourself go. Steve whispering something to you that you can’t make out over the ringing deep in your ear. He’s doing everything he can to help you get there, his lips kissing your cheek repeatedly. 

There’s a high pitched whimper of his name as you tip over the edge, unable to control any of the noises you make. Your body feels heavy then light again, toes curling and calves aching as a delightful feeling spreads through you. You know Steve is gonna have red marks on his shoulder from how hard your nails are digging into it. 

“That’s it.” He praises. “There’s my good girl.” You can feel him smiling on your skin, his voice dripping with pride. 

Slowly he moves his hand from your cunt, your face pulled together as you adjust to the uncomfortable emptiness. You close your thighs around his hand, trying to make the shock waves of pleasure slow down.  

“Steve?” You breath raggedly, suddenly aware of how hot you are, your dress feeling suffocating. He can sense that you’re uncomfortable, a few lines of worry forming on his forehead. 

“Yeah, honey?” He looks at you sweetly, noticing the thin layer of sweat on your forehead. 

“Can you take my dress off?” You request, leaning into him so that you can kiss his stubbly chin. 

“I can do that.” He says, pulling his hand from your wet thighs. “Think you can stand up for me?” 

Steve’s making his way across the bed and onto the floor beside it before you can answer, reaching out a hand for you. He looks incredibly handsome right now. His tan skin is glowing more than you had ever seen in the past, styled hair now a bit rustled up but you know he could care less right now. The thick patch of hair on his chest makes you throb with need again, your eyes unable to look away. 

He sees you staring, a breathy laugh leaving him as he watches you slowly getting off the bed with your eyes attached to him. 

“You’re really handsome.” You whisper as you settle in front of him with your back turned to his chest. It makes his cheeks glow a soft pink as he kisses your shoulder softly, happy that you can't see his face. 

“And you’re the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.” He hums into the shell of your ear, thick fingers working to pull the zipper of your dress down. 

“I am?” You ask as he pushes the fabric down your shoulders, watching it cascade down your body. His hands are rubbing your back soothingly as the dress finally falls to the ground. He kisses your naked back a few times, a gesture that makes everything ache from your lungs to the space between your legs. 

“You are.” He confirms, his touch running down your sides before pulling your body into him. “Too beautiful for this world.” 

You feel something hard against your ass, pressing into you with need. You moan quietly, placing your hands over his as he moves them around your body. 

He urges your head to the side, tilting it so that your neck is on full display for him. 

“Too beautiful to let just anyone touch you, honey.” The first few kisses on your unclothed neck are innocent, starting by your ear and travelling to your shoulder.

To let anyone but me touch you. Is what he really meant, afraid to let the words fall out.

The kisses that follow are darker, his lips sucking on each spot of your neck they stop. He finds a spot he likes, biting at the skin there tenderly, his tongue running over the spot after each bite that is harder. 

“Feels like a dream to be this close to you, can’t believe it’s real..” Your mouth is open but there's no sound coming out, jaw slack at the bliss you feel. 

His hand runs over your tummy, greedily trying to get a feel for every inch of your body as he sucks and bites at your sensitive skin. The urge to touch him is overwhelming, it was completely tangible, yet it took everything to pull yourself out of the moment. 

“S-Sit down.” You request, secretly wishing he would never stop kissing you. “Please, Steve.” 

He reaches to hold your hand, not wanting to be away from your touch. Backing up slowly he sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes alight with elation as he pulls you closer to him. You couldn’t help but notice how much softer his eyes got whenever he looked at you, the golden hazel colour becoming a comforting light brown that felt like a warm drink on a cold day. 

“What’re you doing, baby?” He’s amused but curious, hands grabbing the backs of your thighs once you get close enough for him to do so.

You stand between his legs, bending down so you can kiss his toned shoulder. 

“Showing you this is real.” Your voice is angelic, light and golden as you whisper in his ear. 

You kiss along his tan shoulder, taking the time to kiss each freckle that adorns his skin. Your breath along his skin was amiable, heating him up both physically and mentally. The open mouth kisses you trail up and over his Adam's apple are wet and a little sticky from what barely remains of your lipgloss. 

His hand moves to the back of your neck, not to hold you there but to massage you and remind you that this was all okay. Somewhere along his neck your kissing turns into a gentle nipping, biting into his skin enough to make his pulse quicken. 

When you pull away you look at his skin, the beginnings of broken blood vessels present, but nothing that will leave much of a mark, unfortunately for you. 

“I don’t know how all of those women didn’t fall at your feet, Steve.” You run your fingers down the hair of his chest, your thumb running down to above his belly button. 

You duck your head down again, kissing the soft skin of his tummy. 

Steve groans like you’ve never heard. It starts out as a choked out word, transforming into an inaudible sound of disbelief. He sounds like he’s stuttering, trying to form a sentence but the pleasured noises from his diaphragm keep cutting him off. 

You look up at him with half-lidded eyes, the sight above you is so intense you have no choice but to kneel into the ground between his legs. 

His chest is heaving heavily, cheeks a burning red colour, beginning to look the way they did that morning when you saw him on his run. The way he’s looking at you is something you had never experienced. It’s hungry and sinful, but at the same time it’s gentle and beautiful, two things you were sure only lovers experienced together. 

Humming softly you close your eyes, continuing to leave feather-like kisses on his stomach.

Steve felt as if he was about to have a heart attack. He didn’t find himself in bed with people often, and when he did he was always left emotionally unsatisfied, even physically sometimes. 

But this was putting him into overdrive, all of his senses being overloaded at the same time to create a feeling that was burning him to his core. He feels energised but completely weak at the same time. He wants to give you everything right now, but for the first time since the fall of 1984, he’s okay with the idea of letting someone, you, love on him for a moment. 

“Steve.” You whisper, the sound causing his eyes to blink open again to look at you. Your hand is on the button of his pants, thumb rubbing over the small details on the front of it. “Can we take these off…” 

“Of course.” He sits back up from where he was leaning, cradling your chin in one hand. “Go ahead, my girl.” 

My girl. 

Your stomach twisted into a knot, heart beating in your ears so persistently that you were sure you must have misheard him. His words are so gentle, stare so intense, but instead you decide not to dwell on words that were most likely created by the heat of the moment. 

The button pops open, the zipper coming open slowly. You can’t pull them down anymore without help, looking at him with the beginnings of a pout on your lips. 

“Come up on the bed, honey.” He kisses you once you stand to your full height, guiding you onto the bed. 

You kneel into the middle of the firm mattress, shamelessly watching as he starts to take his pants and boxers off. He shakes his head as you make eye contact one last time, your lips turned up into a soft smile.

He pushes them down completely, stepping out of his pants and coming onto the bed next to you. You aren’t even looking at him, gaze caught on how his hard cock rests on his stomach when he lays down. 

The tip is bitten pink, one thick vein running down the side of it, he easily has the biggest cock you’ve ever seen, the size of it alone makes your stomach twist with need. The longer you looked at it the more you understood his persistence on making you cum before he fucked you. 

“Steve.” You swallow thickly, face struck with disbelief. There’s a hint of fear in your voice, a sound that he doesn’t like. 

“What’s wrong?” His eyebrows twist along his forehead, placing a hand on your thigh. 

“I’m not…I can’t.” You shake your head and place your gaze back to him. “I can’t do it…you’re too big I can’t take it.” 

Steve can’t help but smile, clicking his tongue in his mouth as he rubs your thigh. 

“You can do it, sweetheart.” He whispers, pulling you into his lap. “You’re such a good girl, I know you can do it.” 

“I can try.” You whine, melting in his arms like it’s nothing. “But I’m sorry-” 

“None of that, no sorries.” He kisses your cheek gently. “We’ll go so slow, yeah? Stretch you open nice and wide for me.” 

Your uneasiness fades into nothing, being replaced by the need to be close to him. You can feel yourself dripping on his abdomen, the slick connecting your cunt to his body. You feel hot, like if you don't get him fast enough you might just start crying. 

“Can I be on top?” You ask him, hands already locked around the back of his neck. 

“Yeah? You wanna fuck yourself onto me, baby?” He teases, managing to sit up a little bit with you on top of him. “Are you sure you can do it? Be a big girl for me?” 

Steve takes notice of how hard you whine when his words are a little condescending. Your focus drifting away, eyes closing as you smile gently and nod your head, trying to find the words to say to him. He never would have expected you to like it so much, but he’s not complaining whatsoever. 

“I can do it.” You nod, trying to find a stronger voice. “Need to feel you.” 

You placed your knees on either side of him, your hurt hand holding onto his shoulder. The feeling of the gauze there makes Steve feel it off him, checking that the bandage was still okay. 

He only looked at you, checking in on you silently the same way he did when your car broke down and he took it to Eddie’s shop for you. The room was loud and busy but even through it he gave you that reassuring look, reminding you he was right there if you needed him. 

“It feels okay. I promise.” You say quietly, earning a squeeze on your arm as he places your hand back down on his shoulder. 

You reach a hand between your bodies, taking his cock in your hand. It feels even bigger now that you’re holding it, one of your hands not being enough to wrap fully around the top half of it. Steve hisses when you rub your thumb over the slit, pushing the clear liquid leaking out around his burning skin. 

“Lift your hips a bit for me.” He suggests, opting to hold the back of one of your thighs to support you through it. You guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, the mere prodding of it against you makes you moan. 

You sink down slightly, letting his cock into you just enough to catch him there. Already your cunt is burning from the stretch, the wind being knocked out of you as you manage to fit the tip of his cock into you. 

“Look at you, baby.” He praises. “Already takin’ me so well, aren’t you?” 

The noises you were trying to conceal break free after that, a loud shaky whimper that has you opening your eyes to see his reaction. He’s staring at you the same way he always does, like you’re what makes the world turn on its axis, causing the sun to set and rise again. 

You try to sink down further, the burning sensation only getting worse. Steve can feel how much you’re stretching around him, your walls so tight around him that he’s moaning pornographically. He’s about halfway inside you now and you already feel full, having no idea how you’re meant to fit the rest of him inside. 

“Oh god.” You whine, pussy clenching around him tightly. “It’s s’big, you’re so big.” 

“I know, honey, I know.” He was rubbing your skin in any way he could, doing anything to ease the pain you were in. 

Your voice is almost as weepy as your cunt, dripping down his shaft more with each huff of air you let out. 

A little bit more of him pushes in, making your whole body tense in a way that has you pouting in discomfort. Steve knew this was bound to happen, never in his life had anyone taken him with ease on the first try. He hated knowing that this was hurting you, and by the choked up sounds you were making, he knew it was becoming a lot for you to handle. 

“I can’t.” You say, feeling embarrassed. “It’s too much, I can’t.” 

You had never had anything this big inside of you, your walls not knowing how to with it. The frustration bubbled up with the realisation that you wanted to move, to take him fully, but it felt impossible for a second. 

“Hey hey.” Steve whispers quickly, sitting up so he can tug you into his chest a bit. Firm hands rub your naked back, trying to calm the repeated whimpers you let out. 

“So brave, hm?” He tells you, letting you tuck your head into his shoulder. “Why’re you embarrassed, baby? I’m so proud of you, doing such a good job.” 

He feels you relax into him, shoulders untenseing, your gummy walls opening up for him once again. Steve chuckles as he hears you whine, pulling your face from his neck and looking at him again. Even though it's the first time you’re having sex with him, he knows you well, he knows what you want.  

“You were so sure of yourself with my fingers in you.” He taunts, feeling you sliding down his cock at a painfully slow rate.. “Not so tough anymore, huh? My cocks too much…what did I tell you, honey?” 

Your head falls back, a loud sigh escaping you when you’re able to take more of him, making Steve groan. He reaches to tug on one of your nipples, the sensitive bud hardening under his fingertips almost immediately. 

“I can do it.” You argue, walls fluttering around him with need. “Want it all.” 

You let out one last shaky breath, relaxing your body as you take the last bit of him. The fullness you feel is overwhelming, making it seem as if he was in your stomach. You’re gasping as you let him sit in you fully, trying to remember how to breathe properly. 

“That’s it, there you go, sweetheart.” Steve grunts. “You feel so good for me, your pretty pussy keeping me nice and warm.” 

“Oh my- mmm” You pant, fingernails scraping the back of his neck. Your head is a mess, thoughts floating around so fast that you can’t catch them. 

The burn of the stretch begins to fade slowly, clit aching with how much you need to move on him. He’s so big, but you know it’s gonna feel heavenly when you start to bounce on his cock, letting him really split you open. 

You try to move, try to lift your hips and move back down onto him but you can’t. Your thighs are shaking, buzzing with a cramping sensation with every move you make. Your hands move to his chest, trying to get leverage but they end up clenching into fists. 

“Oh you poor thing.” He teased. “Never been fucked this well have you? Don’t even know what to do with yourself.” 

“N-No.” You shook your head. “I need you to help me, Steve, please.” 

He’s grabbing one of your legs and untucking it from where you kneel, telling you to wrap your legs around him. It’s a bit awkward trying to manoeuvre your body when he’s inside you, every movement making you wince. The new position has the tip of his cock hitting deep inside your channel, rubbing on that sweet spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back into your head. 

It’s a sticky mess between your bodies, your slick coating everything below it from your inner thighs to Steve’s balls. Once you're seated fully on him, you can't stop moaning, feeling every single inch of him pressing into you. His thick arms wrap around you, practically hugging you as he kisses you over and over again, letting you whine into his mouth. 

Slowly, he begins pulling your body into him, moving his cock inside you for the first time. It’s sinful how easily your bodies slide together, the motion happening with no struggle at all. His chest hairs are brushing against your breasts, tickling your nipples each time you’re pulled back into his body. 

“O-Oh.” It’s a high pitched whimper. “You’re so…you’re so deep.” The way his cock is nudging against your cervix has you reeling, toes curling harshly. 

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, honey.” He murmurs, his nose nudging against your throat. “Feels so good around me.” 

His hair is a mess now, sticking out a few different ways, his lips are swollen a mean red colour, cheeks stained with a rosy blush. You wondered if he only looked this good when he was inside you, something you intended on putting to the test in the future. 

You move against him, not caring how much your legs hurt. The way his cock is sliding in and out of you is too good for you to not try and chase more of it. His fingertips are digging into your hips, holding you there as if he was afraid you were going to try and escape. 

“You hear that?” He whispers, looking at you with soft hazel eyes. “Hear how much she likes me?” 

He’s talking about your cunt, and it makes you dizzy. The lewd sounds from it are intense, a sticky squelching that fills the room every time his cock thrusts in and pulls out again. It’s delicious, and fuck does it feel good. 

Your moans have turned into sobs of pleasure, they’re desperate and breathy, begging him to not stop. It’s too late before you realise how fucked out you are, your emotions getting the best of you as you begin to mumble something that Steve can’t quite make out. 

“What is it, baby?” His fingers trace your spine, scratching lightly. 

“Am…Am I..” You choke out. “Am I your girl?” 

Steve’s face softens, pulling you back into his chest as he shushes you sweetly. Practically hugging you he starts whispering to you, not wanting you to be embarrassed for needing reassurance. He thinks you might be overwhelmed with pleasure, needing to hear him talk to you. 

“I’m right here.” He breathes. “You have me, I'm right here.” 

He can feel you shaking your head on his neck, fighting his biceps to let you look at him again. There’s a hollow feeling in your heart, a worry that he avoided your question for a reason. 

“Steve…Am I your girl?” Your eyes are glossy, lip caught between your teeth. “You called that earlier and…” You trail off, looking at him as you try and fight off the moans that threaten to spill. 

“Shh.” He whispers, one hand leaving your back to hold your face. “You’re my girl, honey. Ever since I saw you on my driveway you’ve been my girl.” 

He watches your expression soften into relief. 

“You’re so sweet and so perfect.” He tells you with confidence. “I don’t want anyone else.” 

With your bodies intertwined like this and the words leaving his mouth, Steve can’t stop feeling like maybe he had been wrong about love all this time. Maybe it wasn’t hot and cold or black and white. 

Loving you was warm, it was golden, like daylight. 

Both of your arms tighten around him, hanging onto him like your life depended on it. His fat cock is still dragging in and out of you, only adding to the immense love you’re feeling for him. He knows you’re content with his response by the long whiny sigh you let out into his ear. 

Steve can’t help but to reach down and search for your clit, rubbing the still sensitive bead as delicately as possible. The feels makes the pressure in your stomach grow faster, all the pain you felt before dissolving into a sugary sweet bliss. 

“Feels…feels good.” Is all you can get out, making Steve chuckle. 

“I bet it does, my pretty girl.” He growls, his cock twitching inside you. The same feeling is growing within Steve, his balls begging to drain with each thrust of his hips. “Can feel you tugging me in, know it must feel good.” 

You know you’re done for when you reach down and press a hand into the space above where your pubic hair would grow. You can feel the head of his cock against your hand, tapping it each time Steve pushes into you. 

“I-I…oh my fucking god.” You sob out. “I can feel you…” 

Steve’s hand is replacing yours before you can think to show him, licking his pink lips as he laughs. 

“Shit, baby.” He mocks, pressing his hand into it. “Can feel me in your tummy, huh? Pretty pussy…she's swallowing me whole.” 

Everything feels snug right now, from the fit of Steve’s cock in you to the space between your bodies. The bliss growing in your stomach is nearly tipping over the edge, making it hard to breathe in a normal pattern. The sound of Steve moaning and growling your name is making it impossible to keep off your orgasm, teary eyes dragging to look at him. 

“S-Steve.” You vibrate, body shaking again as you try and blink the tears away. 

“Yeah? Crying over my cock, sweetheart?” He’s taunting you again, knowing the impact it carries. “Just so bent out of shape, huh?” 

You don’t get a moment to think before you’re cumming again, white hot pleasure pulsing through your veins. The sob you let out is a scream, followed by several smaller ones back to back to back. You swear your ears are ringing, only being able to hear the small whispers from Steve. 

“There’s my good girl.” “Cum on my cock, that’s it.” “So sweet for me aren’t you?” 

As you come down your fingers tangle in his brown locks, letting him bite on the skin of your neck again as makes it to the finish line himself. He goes stiff against you with one final hard thrust, staying there as he paints your walls with his release. He thrusts a few times after that, letting his cock cool off from the overload of bliss. 

You stay tangled together for sometime after, catching your breath while you draw patterns into his skin. There’s a lingering fear in the air from both of you, not knowing what’s gonna happen when you lift your heads and see eachother again. 

He feels you move a hand over his heart once again, feeling it beating. 

“Are you okay?” You smile softly just how you did earlier. 

“Never been better.” He places a hand over your heart once more, feeling it for a few seconds. 

“Are you okay, honey?” He asks you. 

“Hanging on…by a lot more than a thread.” You whisper, letting your forehead fall against his before kissing him with the same gentleness as the first kiss you shared tonight. 

You felt at peace for the first time since you met Steve, not having to guess how he felt about you through shared glances and stolen touches. He was finally letting you in the way he dreamed of, feeling less scared of the idea of being loved by someone in this way. 

“Stay the night.” He whispered as he broke the kiss.

Your chest burned with happiness, your eyes smiling as well as your lips. 

“Is this to make up for all the nights you didn’t let me sleep here?” You asked with a light laugh. 

“Mm, yeah.” He nodded, pulling you closer. “And you know…you are my girl after all, right?” 

“Yeah…yeah, I am.” You whispered, looking at him fondly.

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVESICK STEVE

GOD AND YOU WRITE HIM SO WELL

screaming

steve harrington is desperate in his affections…

HE GRIPS YOUR HIPS AND BURIES HIS HANDS IN YOUR HAIR AND PRESSES HIS WHOLE BODY INTO YOU, HE DOESN’T PULL AWAY EVEN IF HE CAN’T BREATHE HE JUST PRESSES HIS LIPS TO YOURS OVER AND OVER AND SIGHS INTO YOUR MOUTH AND DOESN’T LET YOU PULL AWAY, HE WHINES AND WHIMPERS AND MOANS AND GROANS, HE GRABS AT YOU WITH ABANDON, HE WHISPERS HOW PRETTY AND SOFT AND SWEET AND PERFECT YOU ARE IN BETWEEN PRESSES OF HIS LIPS, IF YOU TAKE CHARGE OF THE KISS HIS KNEES WILL BUCKLE, HE BEGS FOR KISSES AND LICKS INTO YOUR MOUTH AND GETS SO NEEDY THE KISS TURNS TO TONGUE AND TEETH AND SPIT AND HE SWEARS YOU DON’T KNOW THE EFFECT YOU HAVE ON HIM AND YOU GET ALL SHY AND HAVE THIS DOE EYED INNOCENT LOOK GOING ON AND “you have fucking ruined me for anyone else, angel” AND HIS LIPS ARE ON YOU AGAIN AND AGAIN i—

♡

# steve harrington

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

ive been having such a hard time recently w school and this just makes me so happy

beautiful as always harmo!!

lazy days spent in bed with your stevie.

soft, slow mornings in between cozy blankets, sunlight bathing the room in warmth, in your pajamas while you run your hands over the other’s body. deciding to bring sharpies and pens and paint and brushes with you so you can mark each other up, turn your lover into art. making up little drawings with your boy’s moles and freckles like connect-the-dots and coloring them in. you two enjoy having these “painting dates” in which either steve’s shirtless laying in bed with his head resting on his forearms and you straddling his thighs so you can paint his back — usually you paint the sky during sunset or sunrise, rainbows or more often than not a starry night — “‘cause you’re made up of stardust, stevie”… or your boy drawing stars on your arms, making little hearts in sharpie over any moles or red dots that cover your skin, “you’re everything i love, honey” as he writes his name and yours surrounded by a heart like he’s carving your love into a tree trunk forever.

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

☆ — put this star in the inbox of your favorite blogs. it’s time to spread positivity! 🌷

MWAH ILY AS ALWAYS

[ang3lofsmalldeath]

YOU CANT KEEP DOING THIS TO ME HARMONIA :,)

you’re so right he def uses his girl’s tits as a form of comfort to feel attached to you

i honest to god just think he needs that sensory exploration to feel grounded!! he also probably encourages you (whines and begs you) to explore him non-sexually & sexually to feel physically connected <33

No bc Steve would definitely chill by playing with your boobs. Poking, bouncing, softly pinching them. Rubbing the back of his fingers over your nipples. He also pouts at them and coos as if they were puppies. Weirdo

weirdo.

stevie has an oral fixation, i just know it. the thing is, he’s never felt comfortable with a sexual partner before enough to let his deepest fantasies and desires show— oral fixation, his occasional need to be more subby, to be taken care of, or his affinity for a more intimate encounter. i’m talking eye contact and dropping all his weight on you and whispering “i love you”’s and cockwarming, choking, non-sexual nudity, etc. so when he finds the love of his life? his sweet girl? his honey? those desires only heighten. your stevie tries to keep them under wraps in the beginning, but you can see there’s something more he wants. it takes a little while and a lot of reassurance, a lot of intimate and genuine and honest talks, but stevie starts to let go. starts to ask for what he wants. starts to drop all of his walls.

that means his oral fixation becomes apparent, so you get used to waking up with his lips suckling on your nipple, even if he’s asleep. you start putting your fingers in his mouth when he gets extra whiney. you let stevie play with your boobs whenever he wants. and he completely lets go of his fears and his doubts and his embarrassment (even if he still gets blushy and flustered when he wants to mouth at your tits), “enjoyin’ yourself?” you’d tease him and he’d only nod, not wanting to stop sucking. having a hand, or his mouth, on your boobs becomes a source of so much comfort and peace that it fills him with joy to know he finally found his person.

safety and comfort and intimacy are all steve has ever wanted, and he found it with you.

♡

# steve harrington

💭 harmo’s thoughts ──

i’ve always had a lot of insecurities about my breasts, felt like they were too far apart, and i’m also part of the itty bitty titty committee, but i’ve recently started to let go of that anxiety, which is great. imagining stevie loving your boobs no matter the size or shape was of great comfort to be. hope you like this.