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borninacloud · 2 years

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If You're Too Shy

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.3K]

You hadn’t expected Steve Harrington to ask you out on a date and you certainly hadn’t expected it to go as well as it had. A shared pizza, two shakes and feet touching under the table, a once popular boy who was surprisingly soft and sweet, all pretty words and messy hair and eager to hold your hand.

He made you laugh, liked the same music as you and loved the way your nose scrunched you when you got embarrassed.

But despite all of that, all the time you spent together, it was still a surprise to you that Steve wanted to be your boyfriend, that he wanted to keep spending time with you, always smiling when you appeared, always wanting you close, enjoying your touch, your warmth.

You’d never been someone’s girlfriend before and the idea of it used to keep you up at night, wondering what you were supposed to do, how you were supposed to act. But being with Steve was surprisingly easy.

It had been almost two months of new experiences, new feelings, new firsts.

First date, first kiss, first time meeting his friends, first time introducing him to your parents. First mixtape, first time in your room, in his.

And that’s where you were now, laid out pretty against his pillows, Steve hovering over you with a knee between your thighs, doing his best to keep his weight off of you as he kissed you.

Everything he did was careful, every touch was soft. He knew you hadn’t had much experience with boys, he’d watched you stumble over your words as your tried to talk through your embarrassment about it, ‘cause what girl your age had only kissed three people? Hands above clothes in the front seat of someone’s car, wondering if you were doing it right?

But Steve had shrugged and smiled, told you that it was okay and everything that you did together was at your pace, at your discretion. It made you feel a bit better, knowing that he knew, watching how his brown eyes softened for you - not in sympathy, but understanding. So every time Steve kissed you, it was slow and almost chaste, a pretty press of his lips against yours and as nice as it always was, you always felt like you were ready to chase him for more.

You were too shy though, unsure what to do, how to ask, completely lost at how to take charge. Steve looked at you like you hung the moon but he touched you as if you were as delicate as one of the stars beside it.

Even now, he kept his hand curled around your waist, despite the way your legs were spread and bent for him, despite the way the hem of your dress fell high around your thighs. The other was pushed to the pillow by your head to keep himself off of you, chest barely brushing yours and although you couldn’t see it, Steve was fisting the cushion in his palm in an effort to control the way he wanted to grind down into you.

You’d been kissing for an age, lips rosy and plush, chest rising and falling a little faster than it had before because Steve was just too pretty. It was a tease, the way he kissed you, soft and slow before pushing his mouth to yours just a little rougher before pulling back, as if he was catching himself.

He was a gentleman about it all, hands on your side despite the way be squeezed you a little harder if you gave out a particularly breathy sigh, lips parting over your own but never licking into you, always keeping his body lifted from your own.

It was maddening. It was sweet, it was considerate, but oh my god, it was absolutely maddening.

So you pulled away ever so slightly, fingers slipping away from where they were curled around the boy’s bicep and Steve gazed down at you, eyes open and concerned.

Fuck, he was pretty. Hair a little wild despite not being brave enough to card your fingers through it yet, cheeks flushed and pink, lips slick with your cherry gloss and pouty.

“Hey,” his breath was laboured, his voice a little rough and it made your thighs clench. “Y’okay? Did I do something wr—”

You shook your head, feeling flushed, feeling too warm and you were burning inside but you knew you had to say, you knew what you wanted and how to get it. Steve was yet to say no to you, you’d noticed. Always wanting to please, always caving and letting you choose the movie when you looked up at him doe eyed.

Eddie told him he was whipped. Robin laughed and agreed. Steve didn’t argue at all.

“No, no,” you assured him and god, your voice was as weak as Steve’s. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

And he hadn’t. Not at all.

Steve raised his brows, waiting.

“It’s just…” you trailed off, nose scrunched up as you broke eye contact and stared at his ceiling light instead. “I— I won’t, y’know…”

Steve smoothed your hair back from your eyes, hand cupping your jaw, a thumb pushed soft at the plush of your cheek. He was smiling, just slightly, kind enough that you didn’t think he was making fun of you.

“Baby,” he coaxed, “what is it? You can tell me.”

You bit down on your lip as you met his gaze again, cheeks warm and you were sure he could feel the heat from them under his hand. If he did, he didn’t say, but you tried to distract him, poked a finger to the middle of his bottom lip and smiled when he nipped at it playfully.

“Baby,” Steve tried again.

“I’m not gonna break,” you blurted out, sudden and almost too loud for the quiet of the room. “Shit, sorry, I meant…”

Steve waited, eyes a little wide with surprise but patience rolled off of him in waves and he didn’t pull away, didn’t push. He just… waited.

“Yeah, no, I meant that,” you whispered, tracing the line of his Cupid’s bow, eyes soft and imploring as you looked up at him. “I’m not gonna break when you touch me. I like it when you touch me, when you kiss me. You can just—”

You didn’t know what you were supposed to say after that. Everything sounded dirty as you tried it out in your head and despite what you wanted right now, you didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself. Steve was more than patient with you, too patient, which is why you were in this current position but god, what were you trying to tell him?

Touch me rougher? Kiss me harder? Go a little faster?

It all made your cheeks burn and your heart beat too fast.

Maybe Steve realised this, ‘cause he ducked down to kiss sweetly at the corner of your lips, pressing a line of them along your cheek and jaw.

“Hey,” he murmured, nudging at your nose with his own, affectionate and fond. “You know you can tell me anything, right? You can ask me for whatever you want… if you want to stop or—”

“Steve, god, that’s the opposite of what I want.”

The boy fell silent, mouth parted in a soft, pink ‘o’. He licked his lips, stumbling over what he wanted to say, what he felt like he was supposed to say. He didn’t want to pressure you, he didn’t want to make you feel like you had to do something that you didn’t want to.

But you kept talking, voice was soft and sweet as it always was and he fucking adored the way your nose wrinkled as you spoke, uncertainty and shyness tinting your pretty features.

“I want you to kiss me how you want to kiss me.”

Steve was silent, still hovering above you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

He didn’t ask what you meant, he knew. There was no point in playing dumb, you were too smart and he knew that you knew, that he’d held himself back, been a little more gentlemanly than he’d maybe wanted to. ‘Cause he could stay about your waist and keep his hands over your pretty, little summer dresses but there was no hiding the way he looked at you.

Like he wanted to eat you up.

“Yeah?” Steve managed, saying it like a sigh, the tension and relief palpable in his voice.

His hand trailed from your cheek, curved around the side of your throat, thumb pushed to your pulse point. You were buzzing underneath him, eyes all wide and hopeful, nodding up at him.

“Yeah,” you breathed back.

So Steve shifted, ever so slightly, down onto his elbows as he brought his hips into the cradle of yours. Your dress was already hitched up indecently high from the way you’d squirmed on top of the sheets for him and now, the denim of the boy’s jeans pressed into the cotton on your underwear, the bare skin on the inside of your legs.

He settled there, watching the way your eyes widened as you felt how hard he was for you and it took everything he had not to rock himself forward. Steve knew what you’d asked him, but he was still so unsure how far you wanted to go. So he kissed your cheek, the top of your nose, a soft peck on your lips before pulled back and asked:

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, breath held in your chest until it burned because you could feel all of him. Steve smiled, something a little dirty hidden there, a new kind of excitement shining in his eyes. He hummed, leaned down, pressed his lips to yours in another gentle kiss - too gentle - and it made you want to whine out of frustration.

But then his hand caught yours, the one that was trying to pull at the front of his shirt and he twisted your fingers between his, pushing your hand up and into the pillow pinning it there as he pressed into you. You gasped, a tiny hiccuped sound that made his eyes squeeze shut.

“Is that okay?”

Your free hand grabbed at his hip, finger hooking into his belt loop and you tugged Steve into you, nodding so your nose jumped against his, breath falling heavy over his lips as he kept up his sweet kisses.

He rolled his hips when you arched your back, other hand grabbing - really grabbing - at your thigh, palm on bare skin, hitching it to his side so he could push into you more.

Steve pressed you down into his bed like that, one hand pinned above you, your leg hiked high over his hip so you could feel how hard he was for you, dress splayed scandalous between you both.

“Baby,” Steve hedged, voice wrecked, rough, low. “Is this—”

You didn’t let him finish, surging up to push your lips to his, catching his mouth in a kiss that was a little messy, clumsy and kind off target. But Steve groaned, loud and dirty for you, pushing you back into the pillows as his hand squeezed yours. His mouth parted over your own, lips catching your bottom first, then your top, sucking soft and nipping rough at them before he licked into you.

His tongue was a push and press against yours as he swallowed your pretty noises, moaning into you, hips faltering as you rutted up every time he rocked down. You were throbbing, skin too hot, marked up with crescent moon shaped indents where Steve was holding onto you, lips mouthing lilac coloured bruises over your jaw and throat when you threw your head back.

It went on like that for god knows how long, frenzied and hot, mapping over new parts of each other that you hadn’t touched yet, discovering amazingly dirty things about the other.

Steve groaned something filthy when you ran your fingers through his hair, held on and tugged a little. He liked it even more when you did it in response to something he did, an open mouthed kiss that trailed across your collarbones, down to the bare skin on your chest that had you pulling a little mean.

He loved your gasps, quiet and pretty, loved it even more when you got a little louder, a little braver. You whined for him when he let his hand drop from where he held your thigh, palming roughly as your ass under your dress, squeezing tight.

Steve kissed you until your jaw ached, lips pink and swollen, kiss bitten and raw from where his slight stubble scratched against you. You only drew apart when someone knocked on the front door, a jarring fist on wood that had Steve scrambling off of you to look out of the window.

Whoever it was gave up and left, Steve lying over you with a grin, both of you hiding your laughter in each others necks, trying to stay quiet on his bed like two lovesick teenagers that weren’t supposed to be doing what they were doing.

Steve gazed down at you as you caught your breath, licking at his bottom like he could chase the taste of you and he tucked your hair behind your ear. He hummed when you shifted beneath him, stretched yourself out and wiggled, body tight from curling into him for so long.

His voice was rough and sticky with fondness when he spoke.

“Was that okay?” The boy asked you, trying for innocence, for coy, but his smile was so big that you wanted to hide.

You scrunched your nose and pushed at him, smiling into the pillow as you rolled away. “Shut up,” you told him, not meaning it. “Yes, that was okay.”

Steve chased you, laughing softly, not at all unkind, peppering kisses to the parts of your face that he could find amongst the cushions.

“So I can do that again?”

You turned to him, eyes hooded, a new kind of expression on your face, one that he’d only seen today. You looked too pretty to handle, he thought, a little vixen, some kind of demon, dressed up cute in a sundress.

“Yeah,” you told him, voice ever so soft. “Please do.”

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