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loveshotzz · 5 days ago

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don’t bring me down (18+)

day four of the august writing challenge

today’s word: scary

contents: jealous!steve!!; reader with breasts and a vagina; reader referred to as steve’s girl <3; fingering, spanking, etc but make it tender and full of tension xox; a single use of calling reader a slut

thanks for helping me choose this one guys :) i hope you enjoy!!

Steve doesn’t remember the last time he’s fumed like this.

He wasn’t exactly pleased with your outfit. A skin tight, black velvet dress with a low back that rested at your mid thigh. It was right for the venue and location, some upscale place in the city, where Robin had just had her first orchestra concert.

“Little much, don’t you think?” he had said. You shouldn’t be looking that good anywhere other than with him, at your shared apartment, in your shared bed.

But he was so easy to sway when you kissed him, arms wrapped around his neck. Murmuring about how you’re only dressed up like this for him. A little piece of eye candy while you both spent the next two hours listening to classical music, which was absolutely not his thing.

His hand had been on your thigh the entire night in the dark, crowded theatre. Had the same hand on your back when you walked to your seats and when you left the venue to head to the restaurant.

Mine, he kept thinking. So pretty and all mine.

He should have known better.

Now he’s sitting in the nicest venue he’s ever been to, chandeliers overhead and warm, dim lighting. It’s much better than Enzo’s in town. If he wasn’t so pissed, he’d be planning your next date here.

Instead, he’s watching you hit it off with some dick across the table from you. A goddamn loser named Nick who played drums. Robin introduced him, and it seemed that you were drawn to him instantly.

Nick. What the hell kind of name is that?

Steve’s hand is on your thigh, but it’s like you don’t even care. You keep chatting with the guy, laughing at his horrible jokes, scrunching your nose and Christ, Steve thought you only looked at him like that.

It’s scary, how it makes him feel.

He tries desperately to listen to Robin and a girl she’s been obsessed with talk to him. She plays the trumpet, too — or was it clarinet? He won’t ask for clarification. He’ll be happy for Robin later. For now, he’ll nod absently and laugh when it seems appropriate while his anxiety and anger grows.

Steve looks at you again, and it’s like a bomb went off in his chest. You’re leaning forward, propped up on your crossed arms. Your smile is so genuine and your eyes are so bright and he’s biting back tears, swallowing the ache in his throat.

He can’t swallow his anger, though.

And this guy — Steve can see right through him. Jesus, anyone could. His face is flushed and he’s listening intently to you, trying too hard to make you laugh. Eyes raking over your body every so often.

Steve’s hand grips your thigh harder. Fingers digging into the flesh. You glance over, eyes dropping to his hand. You don’t even acknowledge it before turning back to Nick.

Now he’s homicidal.

Robin kicks him gently under the table, looking concerned across from him.

She asks with her eyes. Are you good?

Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes. He knows he’s being unfair, but his pettiness clings to him with a vice-like grip.

“Right, Steve?”

His head snaps towards you. “What?”

“I was telling Nick that you were the captain of the swim team.”

He clenches his jaw. He will never let that name slip past your pretty lips ever again.

“Mhm.” He doesn’t have the heart to tell you that he was actually co-captain.

You finally lace your fingers through his, resting on your thigh.

Too little, too late.

“He was really good at it, too,” you continue, squeezing his fingers. “How long can you hold your breath? Over a minute, right?”

“Wow,” the guy laughs. “That’s pretty impressive. I can only do, like, thirty seconds.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s voice is sharp. He glares, postures himself so that he looks bigger than he is, more menacing. He’s considering his chances in a fight against this prick. He’s certain he can take him.

You look at Steve. It’s evident that you’re trying to hold back your shock at his tone. And it just pisses Steve off more, as if you don’t know what you’re doing. As if you can play innocent.

He seethes a little longer, watching your conversation dwindle out. Your grip on his hand loosens, and then it slides off entirely. He feels guilty, truly, but it’s overtaken by his jealousy.

Steve’s jaw aches by the time everyone starts grabbing their things. When you stand, Steve’s hand is immediately on the small of your back again, firm, guiding you. He’s kind enough to let you say goodbye to your new friend, standing beside you the entire time, looming.

With his other hand, he slips you the keys.

“Go turn the car on for me, honey, I’ll be right out.”

You listen with apprehension, staring at him for a moment before reluctantly walking towards the exit.

Steve turns. Extends his hand. Nick takes it, surprised, and they shake. Then Steve pulls him in, leans towards his ear.

“You ever look at my girl like that again and I’ll knock your goddamn teeth out.”

He turns around and leaves. He takes a momentary break from his self pity to give Robin a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Promise you’ll get home safe?” he asks.

Robin smirks. “Don’t worry, Little Nicky isn’t taking me.”

He hates when she clocks him like that, and he hates it even more when she rubs it in. He scoffs, but still ends with a call me in the morning.

Gravel crunches under his feet as he makes his way to his beemer, the engine on. Night air fills his lungs as he takes a deep breath before opening the door and slinking into the driver’s seat.

He can be cool. He has to be cool. It’s really not your fault that you’re so pretty, even if you did dress like a little slut.

But he’ll still fuck himself into your memory, make you remember who you belong to.

“I love you,” he says. “Do you know that?”

“I love you too,” you reply softly. You take his free hand and lace your fingers through his, pressing a kiss into his knuckles. “I love you, Steve.”

That’s precisely what he wants to hear. Over and over like a devotional prayer.

When you’re home, he’s still gentle with you. Helps you take off your jewelry and heels at the foot of the bed while his heart hammers in his chest.

But he doesn’t help you with your dress. Instead, he places his hand on your back again and presses you forward until you’re bent over the bed.

Your dress rides up and rests just under your ass. You whimper — a cute, surprised, eager little whimper that goes straight to Steve’s cock.

He leans over you, body draped over yours. He places gentle kisses along your jawline.

“Did you think you were being cute back there?” he asks softly.

You laugh. “Is that what this is about? Thought you were over it.”

His hand slides up your ass, dragging your dress up with it. Then he spanks you. Hard.

You gasp, gripping the sheets, and Steve continues pressing tender kisses into your skin.

“Should’ve never let you out wearing this,” he murmurs. “Should only be wearing this for me, got that?”

He can tell you’re winded already. “I - but I - but I did wear it for you.”

“Yeah?” a kiss on your shoulder. “Then why were you letting that asshole eat you up all night?”

“Steve —“

Another spank. He soothes it with his palm but lets his blunt fingernails dig into your sensitive skin, watching you shiver.

“Only I get to see you like this. Touch you like this.”

His hand finds your cunt and he cups it. He’s relieved — so relieved — to find your underwear dry. At least you weren’t getting off on the attention.

“Yes, Steve,” you breathe. Your legs shake.

He nuzzles your cheek with his nose and continues rubbing your clothed slit up and down, applying more and more pressure with each stroke. You moan softly under him.

“Should have invited him over, yeah? Let him see what I do to you? How pretty you sound when you’re begging?”

“Oh, Steve—“

This time, his palm strikes your cunt. You gasp and keen, and Steve takes the opportunity to gently wrap his hand around your neck and tilt your chin up.

“You get off on getting me worked up like this?”

“I wasn’t trying to —“

“Let’s see.”

His fingers tuck under your underwear and part your slit to find you soaked. His digits slide easily up and down, teasing your hole and circling your clit.

“Oh, so you do,” he observes. “You like getting me bent out of shape to see what I do. This what you wanted?”

Steve pinches your clit and his cock twitches when you moan. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, but he wants to really get his hands on you. Hold you close enough, hard enough, until your soft skin is bruised. Until his fingerprints are embedded into you.

He slips two fingers inside of you before you can anticipate it. You clench immediately at the intrusion, crying out, trying to move your hips away. He knows you can take it, though. His fingers follow you until you can’t get away, and he doesn’t move. Lets you get used to the stretch of them, knows how much it hurts.

“Such a shame he doesn’t get to feel this pussy.” He curls his fingers ever so slightly and grins when you gasp. “Doesn’t get to hear the pretty sounds you make.”

“Don’t want him to,” you groan. “Shit, Steve, move.”

He doesn’t want to pull out of you to give your pussy a little love tap, so he slides his other hand down from your neck to your tits. He gropes at you, finds your nipple through the fabric and pinches.

“I was patient with you all night. Let you talk it up to that ugly freak. You had your fun for today, don’t you think?”

But he does move, his fingers working in and out of you slow and deep. The feeling of your walls is something he could never possibly get tired of. Soft, hot, wet.

You nod. “Yeah, yes, Steve.”

“Who do you belong to? Who’re you gonna come home to at night, hm? Who makes you feel this good? Who loves you, baby?”

He feels you tighten around him. “You — ah! — y-you, Steve!”

And he can’t it anymore. He flips you over swiftly and kisses you, just as slow and as deep as he was finger fucking you. Like he wants to swallow you whole.

His big hands push your dress up around your hips. He lingers at your neck to kiss hickeys into it, then kneels.

Steve kisses the sensitive skin at the inside of your shivering thighs. “You tired, honey?”

You shake your head.

“Good,” he grins, kissing up and up and up until he presses a chaste one against your clit. “Going to fuck my name into your pretty, smart brain til it’s all you can think about. Got it?”

You sigh, pleased. “Yes, sir.”

#I haven’t been reading a lot of smut these days but my god #WOWOWOWOW #hooked from start to finish #love a jealous steve #and a v tasteful e use of the word slut my friend #fic reblog 💕#stevenose 👃

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