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stevescheekcut · 14 days ago

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Two Can Play (but three's more fun)

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 / 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: steve harrington x fem!reader x eddie munson 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.2k 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when Steve catches Eddie staring a little too long at his girlfriend, he doesn’t throw a punch—he extends an invitation. And as Eddie quickly learns, Steve doesn’t just share; he teaches, with slow, filthy demonstrations. 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, just pure filth really, posessive steve, desperate eddie, a lot of swearing, I couldn't help it, maybe some repetitive words but smut vocabulary just has it's limits

𝐚/𝐧: I got insanely stoned and wrote this so if it came out too horny i'm sorry, also im ovulating oops. I've prolly been very inconsistent with grammar tenses but I can't be bothered to check it. I usually correct my grammar after i've already posted so the masterlist link has significantly less errors than earlier versions

The living room was bathed in the flickering glow of the TV, some forgotten horror movie playing on low volume—The Thing, maybe, or was it Halloween?—its eerie soundtrack warping under the weight of the thick, sweet-smelling haze curling through the air.

Eddie had outdone himself with this new strain, something sticky and potent that left his limbs heavy and his usual sharp edges dulled into something languid and warm, his thoughts perhaps a bit too syrupy.

“—I know I talk a big game, man, but fuck. I have no clue what I’m doing when it actually comes down to it.”

His voice was a low mumble, words slipping out like he hadn’t meant to say them at all. He tipped his head back against the couch cushions, staring at the ceiling as if it might hold answers.

Steve blinks at him, slow and rhythmically, before snorting. “What, like… at all?”

“Yeah, man. Like—” Eddie waves a hand vaguely, the silver of his rings glinting as he moves. “How the fuck am I supposed to know what sounds are real and which ones are fake? It’s fucking Russian roulette.”

The next reaction from Steve is immediate, no hesitation. Just a lazy, knowing smirk as he stretches his arms behind his head. “Huh. Well, once you know the difference, it becomes pretty obvious.” He pauses, just long enough to take a quick glance over Eddie’s face. “If you really need some pointers, I can ask my girlfriend if she wants to help you out.”

Eddie nearly comes crashing to the fucking floor.

Because fuck. He’s had a crush on you for, like, forever. Not that he’s ever admitted it out loud — not when Steve Harrington has a reputation for rearranging the faces of guys who so much as look at you wrong. Eddie has seen it happen: some poor asshole at a party, fingers skimming your ass as you passed, and bam — Steve’s fist in his jaw before anyone could blink. There’s even a rumour some other idiot once stared just a little too long at the way your lips wrapped around the neck of your beer bottle and then slurred, “Wanna spin the bottle?” Word is, Steve dropped him in one hit. No warning. No theatrics. Just pure, primal instinct.

So yeah, Eddie’s kept his mouth shut.

But now? Now Steve is watching him with this lazy, half-lidded expression, like he hadn’t just detonated a goddamn bomb in Eddie’s head.

“You’re fucking with me.” Eddie pleads, his voice rough.

Steve just grins — slow, deliberate — his eyes dark with something Eddie can't name. “Nah, man. She’s actually really into that kinda stuff.” His voice drops, gravel scraping over each word, and Eddie’s stomach flips “And I’d do anything for her.”

The air feels thick as Eddie’s pulse roars in his ears, his throat suddenly bone-dry. Was this a test? A trap? Christ. Harrington was going to be the death of him, and worse—Eddie knew he’d fucking thank him for it.

His fingers twitch at his sides. “...Yeah?”

Steve’s smile only widens, but his eyes soften. “Yeah.”

When Eddie shows up at your place the next night, he’s strung tight enough to power Hawkins twice over, his pulse hammering in his throat. He’s spent the last twenty-four hours convincing himself he’d imagined the whole conversation, that there was no way Steve Harrington just offered—

And then you open the door.

Dressed in nothing but one of Steve’s old band tees, the fabric riding high on your thighs, you greet him with a smile that damn near stops his heart. “Hey, Eddie.”

His mouth goes dry. And before he can choke out a response, Steve is behind you, hands sliding possessively around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. And then — Jesus Christ.

The kiss Steve gives you isn’t just heated — it’s filthy. All tongue and teeth, your fingers twisting in his hair as he backs you against the doorframe, his hands already under your shirt like it’s a regular Tuesday afternoon.

Eddie’s knees nearly give out.

“Watch,” Steve murmurs against your lips when he finally breaks away, his gaze flicking to Eddie over your shoulder. His voice dark and commanding. “And pay attention.”

Then, right there in the doorway, Steve pulls the shirt over your head — meticulously slow, like he wants Eddie to memorise every second. And, well — Eddie does.

He memorises the way your breath hitches when Steve’s fingers brush over your ribs, the way you arch into his touch, the soft, real sounds spilling from your lips as Steve’s mouth finds the top of your breasts—

Eddie’s throat protests as he swallows, fingers twitching at his sides like he can’t decide whether to bolt or drop to his knees.

Steve notices —of course he does— and his lips curl into something dangerously close to a challenge. “You just going to stand there, Munson?” His hands slide down your hips, squeezing just hard enough to make you softly gasp. “Thought you wanted to learn.” Eddie manages to get control over his brain just long enough to answer “I— Yeah. Fuck. Yeah. I do.”

Steve hums, pleased, and spins you around to face Eddie fully, his palm splayed possessively over your stomach. “Then get over here.”

It’s not a request.

Eddie moves like a man in a trance, close enough now to feel the heat of your skin, to catch the intoxicating scent of your perfume. His gaze darts between your face and Steve’s fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles over your collarbone.

“First lesson,” Steve murmurs, leaning in to nip at your earlobe. “Don’t just touch. Listen.” His free hand reaches out, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and dragging it toward you. “Feel how she reacts.”

Eddie’s fingertips brush your waist—hesitant at first, then firmer when you shiver under his touch. His breath hitches as you lean into him, lashes fluttering when his thumb grazes the delicate curve of your ribs.

“Good.” Steve’s voice is low, eyes locked on Eddie’s every twitch. “Now kiss her.”

Eddie’s head jerks up. “What?”

Steve’s grin is all teeth. “Unless you don’t—”

“No, I—fuck.” He surges forward, crashing his mouth against yours like a man starved. It’s messy and desperate, and he barely gets a taste before Steve yanks you back by the waist, eyebrows furrowed in disapproval.

“Jesus Christ. Not like that.”

Eddie stumbles after you as Steve kicks the door shut behind them. “It’s like you were raised by wolves.”

Eddie opens his mouth to protest—then snaps it shut. Because Steve’s right. He’s a wreck.

“What are you waiting for, a written invitation?” Steve’s voice is rough with impatience. “Kiss her again.”

Eddie hesitates—just for a second—before lust wins the war. This time, when his lips find yours, it’s still hungry, but it’s also aware, his movements more controlled. For a heartbeat, he’s terrified Steve will deem him unworthy of you altogether and kick him back to the curb—until you moan into it, until your fists twist in his shirt and drag him closer.

Steve groans in approval against your shoulder. “That’s it,” he rasps, pressing you forward just enough that Eddie can feel your heartbeat against his chest. “Now slow down. Make her want it.”

Eddie whimpers, but obeys, pulling back just enough to tease your lower lip between his teeth before licking into your mouth like you’re water and he’s been dying of thirst.

The sound you make — the soft, wanting whine—it's the hottest thing he’s ever heard. Steve pulls you back again, but this time, there’s satisfaction in his grin. “See?” His thumb swipes over your kiss-swollen lips, smug. “She likes it when you take your time.”

Steve doesn’t let go of you—not really. Even as he nudges you toward the couch, his palm stays glued to the small of your back, steering you like he owns every inch of space you move through. Eddie doesn’t need to be told to follow; his pulse hammers in his throat, fingers flexing like he’s already imagining the weight of you beneath them.

“Sit.” Steve’s order cracks through the air, and Eddie drops onto an armchair like his strings have been cut.

You don’t get the chance to join him. Steve catches your wrist, yanking you back against his chest instead. His mouth brushes your ear, voice a low, possessive hum: “Nah, sweetheart. You’re staying right here.” His fingers trail down your arm before guiding your hand to Eddie’s jaw. “Let him earn it.”

Eddie’s breath stutters. Christ. Up close, you’re devastating. The way your eyes shimmer with pure lust, the way your lips part—just slightly—when Steve’s fingers skim over the lace of your bra. The syrupy moan you let out when he pinches your nipple over it, just enough to make your back arch—

“See that?” Steve’s voice is rough against your ear. “She gets loud when she’s turned on. You just have to know how to listen.” Eddie nods, swallowing hard. His hands hover over your hips like he’s afraid you’ll dissolve under his touch. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Jesus, Munson. You’re not going to break her.” He grabs Eddie’s wrist, pressing his palm flat against your stomach. “Feel how warm she is? How fucking desperate?”

Eddie’s fingers twitch. He can feel it—the rapid rise and fall of your breath, the way your skin burns under his touch.

“Now”, Steve murmurs, lips grazing your shoulder, “show me what you’ve learned.”

Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice.

This time, when he kisses you, it’s relaxed—calculated. He licks into your mouth like he’s savouring it, one hand sliding up your ribs while the other tangles in your hair. And when you moan, when your hips jerk forward like you just can’t help it, Eddie groans against your lips like he’s just discovered fucking religion.

Steve watches, eyes dark with approval. “Better,” he rasps. Then, with a smirk: “Now get on your knees.”

Eddie freezes, and Steve arches a brow,“got a problem?”

“No—fuck, no.” Eddie’s already sliding to the floor, knees hitting the carpet with a thud. His hands find your thighs, gripping just tight enough to feel the muscle tense under his fingers.

Steve’s smirk widens. “Good.”

The praise goes straight to Eddie’s dick.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him gasp—and God, Eddie’s never been so hard in his life.

Steve’s voice is a murmur as he trails a path down your throat, bruises already blooming under his mouth. “Now, make her beg.”

Eddie’s breathing is ragged as he looks up at you—fuck, the way your pupils are blown wide, the way your chest rises with every shaky inhale. Steve’s fingers are still tangled in your hair, his thumb brushing a stray strand behind your ear with a tenderness that feels domestic. Your eyes meet Eddie’s just before they flutter shut, and it’s all the permission he needs. His mouth finds the inside of your knee first, lips dragging slow and hot up your skin, teeth grazing just enough to make you squirm. Steve hums, tracing your ribs and sliding your bra strap down your shoulder. His palm cups your breast as it spills free, kneading with a lazy possessiveness that has your hips jerking forward — but Eddie holds you steady, determined.

His tongue traces past the waistband of your panties like he’s trying to memorise the shape of you, and when his eyes flick up to Steve, all he finds is lust, raw and unfiltered. So Eddie hooks his fingers into the fabric and pulls, dragging it down your legs as he kisses a trail after it, reverent even in his hunger. His fingers work you with surprising precision, his gaze desperate for approval — and when he curls them just right, you gasp, arching into his touch with a moan loud enough to make Steve’s smirk falter. He wasn’t expecting that.

The slip in Steve’s control sends a thrill through Eddie, and he murmurs against your thigh, voice rough: “You sound so fucking sweet — bet you taste even better.” Steve’s grip tightens on your hip, hard enough to bruise, but you don’t seem to mind.

He’d meant to teach. Now, he’s learning.

And the way you’re unravelling under Eddie’s touch stirs something awake inside of him. Eddie’s got a musician’s dexterity, his fingers able to coax sinful melodies from you with every twist. When you whimper Eddie’s name, Steve’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t stop him. Just watches with a gaze darker than the midnight sky itself as Eddie’s breath ghosts over you, your thighs trembling. “Please—”

The word barely leaves your lips before Eddie adds another finger, crooking them until your thighs squeeze around his wrist. He groans against your skin, resting his forehead against your leg as the vibration tears another broken sound from your throat. He fucks you with his fingers — slow and deep, then fast and relentless, like he can’t decide whether to savour you or ruin you.

Eddie, drunk on your praise, dares to glance up at Steve with a smirk. Steve’s nostrils flare, but instead of shutting him down, he drags a thumb over your cheek and growls, “You gonna cum for him?” You can’t even answer. Your back arches, toes curling, and Eddie drinks it in like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. The moment you shatter, he loses it. He’s not sure what destroys him more — the way you choke out his name, begging him not to stop, or the filthy, approving rumble of Steve’s voice as he speaks, “Good girl.”

Eddie finds himself at an impasse, torn between begging for more and staying silent as the two of you decide his fate. His fingers twitch where they grip your thighs, his breath ragged, his entire body coiled tight with anticipation—and fear. Steve detaches himself from nipping at your collarbone when Eddie wavers, his movements faltering. A reprimand flashes in Steve’s darkened gaze, sharp enough to make Eddie shudder again. “Didn’t you hear her, Munson?” Steve’s voice is a low, warning growl. “She told you not to stop.”

But Eddie freezes. The reality of where he is—what he’s doing—hits him like a freight train. He has no idea how to continue.

But Steve doesn’t tolerate hesitation. His hand fists in Eddie’s hair, yanking him forward with a rough, “Stop thinking.”

Eddie obeys like a man possessed, and the moment his tongue drags over you, his whole body jerks—holy shit. You taste even better than he could’ve dared to dream. Sweet, addictive, and the way you gasp when he flicks his tongue over your clit? He’s ruined. Forever.

Drunk on you—on the way your fingers tighten in his hair, the way you’re so wet it’s coating your thighs—he laps at you like his life depends on it. Steve watches with drowsy satisfaction, his palm sliding possessively up your stomach to cup your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple just to hear you whimper for him again.

“Listen to how she sounds when you do it right,” Steve murmurs, voice thick with contentment. “Isn’t it the most beautiful sound in the world?” He doesn’t wait for Eddie to answer. Instead, he tilts your jaw toward him, locking you in a searing kiss. You moan into Steve’s mouth as Eddie continues, his tongue relentless, his own desperate noises vibrating against you. Steve chuckles darkly when Eddie whimpers, his cock straining against his jeans just from tasting you. He hasn’t even touched himself, but he’s so close he’s shaking.

“Are you going to come just from this, Munson?” Steve drags him off you by his hair, grinning at the dazed, wrecked look on Eddie’s face. “Fuck, look at him, darling. He’s a mess.” Eddie’s lips are slick, his chest heaving, his pupils blown so wide his eyes look black. Steve doesn’t give him a chance to recover. He pushes Eddie back into the armchair, his grip firm, dominant. Then he guides you onto the couch with a smirk.

“You did good,” he tells Eddie, voice dripping with condescension. “Now let me show you great.”

Steve doesn’t waste time. In one smooth motion, he hooks his hands under your knees, spreading you wide —putting you on display— before dragging you to the edge of the couch. His gaze locks onto Eddie’s, making sure he’s watching as he leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, a shudder running through you at the sensation. “See how she shivers?” Steve murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, laced with something Eddie can only describe as devotion. “It’s because she knows what’s coming—” Then he devours you.

Unlike Eddie’s frantic, eager strokes, Steve’s tongue moves with precision — deliberate, decisive licks that have you arching off the couch within seconds. He teases you, circling your clit until you’re gasping, then he pulls back with a cruel smirk.

“Steve—” you whine, fingers scrambling at his hair. “Patience, sweetheart,” he muses — before sucking your clit between his lips, hard. Your cry echoes through the room, and Eddie’s hands clench into fists, his hips jerking helplessly as you overwhelm his senses without even touching him. Steve doesn’t let up; he works you with his mouth until your thighs tremble, until your moans grow longer and heavy, until you’re right there—, and he pulls away.

“No, no, baby, please—” you beg, but Steve just clicks his tongue, amused, sliding two fingers into you without warning. “Look at her, Munson,” he orders, curling his fingers just right, making you sob beneath him. “This is how you give her what she deserves.” His thrusts are ruthless, his palm grinding against your clit with every movement. You’re a writhing, whimpering mess, your nails digging into Steve’s shoulders as he fucks you on his fingers, his eyes locked onto Eddie’s the entire time.

“She’s close,” Steve taunts — he doesn’t even need to look at you to know, too busy watching the way Eddie’s jaw clenches. “You want to see what happens when she comes on my hand?” Eddie can’t even speak. He just nods, frantic. Steve smiles wickedly and makes do with the response. “Then watch closely.”

He crooks his fingers again, pressing deeper, and you don’t just shatter — you explode. Your back bows like you’re possessed, broken screams tearing from your throat as you squirt, and Eddie swears he’s seeing stars. Your hand finds Steve’s bicep, clinging desperately, like you’re afraid he’ll stop. Eddie can’t look away; he doesn’t dare blink — if he misses a single second of this, he’ll never forgive himself.

Steve works you through it, drawing out every last spasm until tears streak your face, until you’re oversensitive, trying to squirm away. Only then does he finally relent, licking his fingers with a satisfied hum before brushing featherlight kisses up to your neck. The moment you feel his proximity, you meet him in a kiss — not heated like before, but purposeful, delicate, like Steve is guiding you back to reality with it. He doesn’t rush you; he just lets your fingers weave through his hair until your breathing steadies. Then, he speaks again. “That”, he says, “is how it’s done.” He meets Eddie’s stunned gaze. “You shouldn’t even be thinking about getting your dick wet until she’s clenching around nothing.”

Eddie’s so hard it hurts. His cock throbs against his jeans, neglected and aching, precum soaking the fabric. He’s never been this turned on in his life—and the worst part? Steve knows it. The bastard smirks, dragging a thumb over your lower lip. You suck it in eagerly, tongue swirling, before he pulls away and stands. It’s a fucking performance. Steve undoes his belt like he’s savouring the way Eddie’s eyes cling to his hands, the leather slipping free with a final, damning shush. You whimper, still boneless from your orgasm, but your eyes flutter open when Steve’s palm slides up your thigh, squeezing. “Please, Steve?” you breathe, and his grin turns feral. “Not yet, love.” He glances at Eddie, whose throat bobs under the weight of his stare. “Munson hasn’t earned it yet.”

Eddie’s stomach drops. Fuck. He’s dripping in his pants, his hips twitching like a fucking teenager, and Steve’s going to make him wait? But then—

Steve grips Eddie’s chin, forcing his gaze up. “You want her?” he asks, voice rough. Eddie nods, greedy. “Then prove you can take care of her.” And just like that, Steve shoves him onto the couch with you. “Do it like I showed you.”

For a heartbeat, Eddie can only stare—at the way your breath hitches when he touches you, at the way your eyes lock on Steve, who’s sprawled in the armchair like it’s a fucking throne, lazily stroking his cock. Your lips part, and Eddie swears he sees your mouth water—fuck, it’s obscene. His hands tremble as he touches you—really touches you—this time. His mouth finds your thigh, kissing up the sensitive skin, trying to mimic the way Steve had worshipped you earlier. But when his tongue drags over you, your breath catches—wrong—and Steve’s low chuckle cuts through the room like a knife.

“Christ, Munson,” Steve sighs, his grip tightening around his cock. “You’re thinking too hard.”

Eddie grits his teeth. He is. He’s thinking about the way Steve had made you scream, the way your back arched off the couch like you were trying to fuse into him. He’s thinking about the fact that Steve’s watching, lazily stroking himself while Eddie fumbles like a virgin.

And the nail in the coffin? You’re watching Steve too. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes heavy with desire—but not for Eddie.

“Fuck,” Eddie rasps, pulling back. His voice is wrecked.“I can’t—I don’t—” Steve leans forward, fingertips ghosting over your throat as you keen toward him. “You can,” he growls. “Stop trying to perform. Just feel her.”

Eddie’s breath comes in sharp bursts. This time, when his mouth finds your cunt, he doesn’t think. He listens. To the way your breath catches when he licks a slow, experimental stripe. To the way your hips jerk when he sucks just there. And when your fingers fist in his hair—finally—it’s not to guide him, but to hold on.

“There,” Steve murmurs, voice thick with approval. “Now you’re getting it.” Eddie moans against you, the vibration pulling a whimper from your throat. Fuck. He’s dizzy with it—the taste of you, the sounds you’re making, the way Steve’s gaze burns into him like a brand.

But then Steve stands. Eddie barely has time to register the loss before Steve’s dragging him up by the collar, spinning him around to face you—really face you. Your lips are swollen, your chest heaving, your thighs slick with Steve’s work.

"Look at her," Steve growls, his voice a dark scrape against Eddie’s ear. "Don’t just glance—really look."

And Eddie looks. He sees the damp flush between your breasts, the way your hips lift like you’re already chasing it, the way your pupils blow wide when Steve’s thumb swipes over your bottom lip. "She’s not yours," Steve breathes, dragging his teeth over Eddie’s earlobe. "But fuck, look how bad she wants you to try."

Eddie’s pulse races. Then Steve steps back, gesturing like a king permitting a subject to kneel. "Go on. Make her forget my fucking name."

So he closes his eyes, trying to drown out the noise in his head, to sync himself with the thrum of your heartbeat beneath him, to dissolve into every breath you take. He wants to belong here, in this moment, where Steve’s approval hangs heavy in the air and your pleasure is the only thing that matters — success. A satisfied hum from Steve when Eddie finally finds the right rhythm, a broken moan from your lips. But your eyes — your eyes stay locked on Steve, even as Eddie’s mouth works you over. It’s still him you want. Hunger battles with pride in Eddie’s chest. He hates how badly he craves this—how much he needs Steve’s approval—but god, he longs to pull those sounds from you himself, to unravel you with nothing but his touch. And so he moves like a man possessed, single-minded in his mission to play you like an instrument, to pluck every string until you snap.

Your taste is intoxicating, something he’s already addicted to, something he’s not sure he can live without anymore. Your eyes scrunch shut as pleasure blooms, so lost in it that you don’t even notice Steve speeding up his strokes, his grip tight on his cock. Eddie gets close—so close he can practically taste your climax—but you linger on the edge, just out of reach. He’s aware he’s missing something, some final piece to send you over, but he can’t find it. Then your eyes flicker open again, searching for Steve’s gaze like it’s the only thing that can save you. And Eddie knows—he’s pushed his luck too far. Steve’s patience snaps—not with his pleasure, but with Eddie’s failure to give you yours. Next thing he knows, he’s being dragged back, the warmth of you ripped away too soon. Steve looms over him, a predator in human skin, annoyance rolling off him in waves. “If you want to get a chance to fuck her,” Steve growls, voice dripping with challenge, “you’re going to have to do better than that.”

Eddie’s brain becomes the mental equivalent of a dropped Wi-Fi signal—because did Steve just imply—?

Every touch, every taste Steve has allowed him, Eddie has devoured with insatiable hunger. But now it hits him—this is more than just a demonstration. Steve might actually let him fuck you. Or he would have. Now, Eddie isn’t sure he’ll ever get the opportunity again. A sharp, breathy cry from you yanks him from his thoughts. Steve has already turned you over, guiding you onto your hands and knees, one foot perched on the armrest behind you like a damn king claiming his treasure. Eddie is so close to your face now, your slick still glistening on his chin as you blink up at him, dazed. Steve teases your entrance with his cock, just enough to have you pushing back, begging for it. And for one glorious, heart-stopping moment—you look at Eddie.

Not at back at Steve.

At him.

Your gaze is pure, primal desperation—like he’s the one you need. Steve drives into you in one brutal thrust, and your eyes screw shut in ecstasy. You sob Steve’s name, but your eyes flicker back open as you you look at him.

“Baby, please—” And it dawns on him—you are begging Steve, but not for Steve. No, you’re begging for permission, your gaze locked onto Eddie like he’s the only thing anchoring you to earth. He doesn’t know what you’re asking for, but Christ, he already knows he wants it just as much.

Steve, of course, does understand. He drags his cock into you agonisingly slow, pressing tender kisses along your spine even as his voice comes out harsh. “You think he deserves it, honey?” You whine, desperate, but Steve doesn’t need more than that. He leans over you, his thrusts deliberate, sinful. “How could I ever say no to you?”

And fuck, Eddie gets it now—gets why Steve turns possessive, gets why you love it. He’s watching the two of you move like a single entity, Steve’s hips rolling into you with a precision that rewrites Eddie’s entire understanding of sex. And the real tragedy? He’s pretty sure you’re only getting started. Your fingers fist in Eddie’s collar, yanking him down hard. His breath stutters as your lips take him in, hot and needy, and he doesn’t think—just reacts, his hands tangling in your hair as Steve’s thrusts rock you forward, forcing Eddie deeper into your mouth. You moan around him, the vibrations nearly undoing him right there, but then your hand tugs at his belt loop like it’s personally offended you, and Eddie’s thoughts fry into static. What do you want? He glances at Steve for answers, but the bastard just laughs, driving into you harder like he’s savouring Eddie’s confusion.

And God help him, Eddie looks. It’s downright pornographic. Steve’s cock glistens as he pulls out, your body clinging to him like it never wants to let go, and every time he sinks back in, you clench, a broken noise tearing from your throat.

As Eddie freezes, you take matters into your own hands, undoing Eddie’s belt with ruthless efficiency. The zipper’s barely down before his jeans pool at his knees. He looks at Steve again—helpless—but Steve just shakes his head, smirking. “Jesus, Munson. Keep up.”

Your fingers brush the straining outline of his cock through his boxers, and his hips jerk. Your mouth finds the spot beneath his ear, teeth scraping, and—fuck—it nearly sends him over the edge right then. You’re not gentle. You know exactly what you want. In seconds, his dick is in your hand, your grip perfect, and the first stroke has him grinding his teeth so hard his jaw hurts. He wants to keep his eyes open—to watch, to devour every detail of every second—but his body betrays him. A shudder wracks through him, his lashes fluttering helplessly before his head falls back, lost to the crushing wave of ecstasy."

“Fuck—!”

Steve’s voice cuts through the haze, dark with amusement. “That’s it, sweetheart. Show him how good you can be.” His hand tangles in your hair—not guiding, just holding—like he wants Eddie to see he’s the one in control. That every gasp you make, every shudder Eddie can’t suppress, is because Steve orchestrated it.

“Bet he’s never felt anything like you.” Eddie’s thighs tremble, his cock twitching against your tongue. He’s close, too close, and Steve knows it—fuck, he’s enjoying it. “Look at him,” Steve murmurs, dragging his cock out of you just to slam back in, punching a moan from your lips. “Already shaking for you. Bet he wishes it was him inside instead.” His thumb swipes over your clit, and you whimper, your rhythm on Eddie faltering. “But he’s got to earn that, doesn’t he?”

Earn it? Eddie’s vision blurs at the edges. He’d shamelessly beg if it meant— Then your tongue swirls over the head of his cock, and he chokes, almost falling forward into you.

“Steady,” Steve warns, though his voice is anything but calm. “You cum before she does, and I’ll make you watch while I fuck her twice as hard.”

Eddie’s groan is nothing short of pure agony. Steve fucks you more slowly then—cruel, like he’s savouring Eddie’s torment—dragging his cock almost all the way out before sinking back in, his grip on your hair tightening just enough to make your eyes water. But your dedication doesn’t waver; if anything, it burns hotter. “Shit—” Eddie’s hips jerk involuntarily, but you swallow him deeper, humming around the salt-bitter heat of him. His fingers scramble at the cushions, knuckles white. “Jesus, sweetheart, where the hell did you learn—?”

Steve’s laugh is a dark, knowing thing against your neck. His hands slide up your thighs, spreading you wider as he presses inside, slow, letting you feel every fucking inch. “She’s full of surprises,” he murmurs, lips grazing your ear. “But you’re not going to last long enough to find out, are you?”

Eddie’s groan disintegrates, the way you swirl your tongue around him, the slick pressure of your throat—it’s nothing like the groupies who’d thrown themselves at Corroded Coffin. This is ruination. This is worship. Your mouth works him with practiced greed, and Eddie’s vision blurs.

“Fuck, I’m not—I can’t—”

“Yes. You can.” Steve’s voice doesn’t leave room for argument—this isn’t a suggestion; it’s a command. His hand moves from your scalp to your nipple, pinching just shy of pain until you whine around Eddie’s cock. His other hand slips between your legs, circling your clit with filthy precision. “You going to come for us, sweetheart?” he rasps. You nod frantically, lips stretched lewdly around Eddie. “Good. Let him see.” You break with a cry, muffled around Eddie’s cock, and Steve growls as your body clenches around him. “That’s it,” he grits out, hips snapping harder, “that’s my girl—” Eddie’s spellbound.

Steve fucks you through it, your tears smearing Eddie’s thighs. His breath comes in punched-out gasps, cock twitching against your tongue—

Steve loses control first. A guttural groan tears from his throat as he spills inside you, forehead dropping between your shoulder blades.

Eddie’s hips stutter when you whimper, oversensitive, as Steve grinds into you one last time—claiming you like he wants to brand the feeling into your skin. And then— “Fuck!” Eddie’s back arches, his cock jerking as you pull off with a slick pop, begging Steve for mercy. He comes untouched, frustration and relief searing through him as he gasps your name like a prayer. Steve laughs, low and satisfied. Eddie’s too wrecked to care, chest heaving—until Steve’s next words send him tumbling straight back into want.

“Let me know if you’ve got any requests for the next lesson.”

#holy fucking shit.#i’ve never read eddie fic before bc steve’s my lover boy #but this…#bc like. it’s not about eddie. it’s about steve being Like That #i dont even have words #fave #smut

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stevescheekcut · 14 days ago

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the young lovers - Steve x Reader

pairing: Steve x Reader

request: I was thinking of Steve and Reader having immediately been attracted to one another and had a first sexual encounter kind of spur of the moment. and while they really like each other and want to go on dates, they also have a very hard time resisting not just bonking each others brains out because it is very fun. I’m wondering if you could write something that plays with that tension, really affectionate and teasing, also probably smutty cus we out here. anyways, bye, i love you!

summary: Being with Steve brought a lot more sex than you ever thought possible.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: smut n swearin’

a/n: I regret nothing

=====

If you had a bucket list of all the weirdest and inappropriate places to have sex, you’d have crossed them all off within a few months of seeing Steve.

Diner bathroom? Check.

Movie theater bathroom? Check.

Pretty much any bathroom in the Hawkins area? Check.

Tourist attractions? Yep.

Shower? Of course.

You tried not to – you really did. You tried to just talk for one date, just one date. But Steve looked so god damn cute all the time, doing anything, eating anything, wearing anything.

It would start pretty innocently. A cute dinner date. He is telling you about his life, something silly he did when he was 5, and he giggles. That’s all it took for you to go to the bathroom, him meeting you there a few minutes later, going completely crazy while leaning against the sink.

You weren’t reckless, of course. Well, maybe a bit. But not too reckless.

Keep reading

#a re-reblog bc tumblr is being weird when i try to click #fave #smut

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stevescheekcut · 16 days ago

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hear me out:

loverboy stevie makes a sex playlist for when things get hot and heavy in his bmw only he fumbles with the cassette and instead of hearing sexy jazz as you straddle him and start unbuckling his belt and zipping down his jeans, dustin’s mixtape of the star wars soundtrack starts playing instead

i’m crying there are real tears in my eyes

cos you’re so right, he so would. he’d be like so chuffed with himself, he spent a lot of time making sure each song on the mixtape is perfectly selected, it’s a curated mix that starts off softer and descends into something more saucy, more sexy if he dares to say.

— and he does dare say, only after he’d remembers it in a flurry of wide eyes and a shouted “wait!” during a makeout sessions in the backseat of his car- he shoots forward between the seats to fumble open the glove box, (giving you a delicious but confused view of his ass) before he pulls back, wiggling a tape between his fingers that you can read is labelled love-making mix with a scrawled heart in sharpie beside it <3

and that’s exactly how he describes it you, between heated kisses, murmuring the words, “it’s sexy, baby, it’s like, saucy ‘n’ shit, you’re gonna love it,” before he breaks your kisses again, adoring how you pout to lean back through the seats and feed it into the tape player.

it clatters a bit, but steve’s got one of those fancy tape player types, which can hold up to 4 tapes at a single time, so it feeds in just fine. steve hits play and sits back, not wasting any time in cajoling you back into his lap

you can hear the tape running in the back, that silence before some pre-made mixtape whirring in the back.

but you also can only hear the heavy breaths from steve’s mouth attached to yours, can’t really hear anything above how his roaming hands make you feel, how the core of you begins to flicker hotly and how the hard shape of him beneath you is—

the blaring trumpets of the star wars theme blast through steve’s speakers, loud enough to make you both startle in shock. steve bites your lip in surprise and then rears back, smacking his head on seats— in all in a half second.

“ow!” you say, right as steve says, “oh, what the shit.”

the theme keeps playing loudly — bah BAH bah bah bah BUH bah — as you and steve both scramble at the same time to push between the seats, desperate to stop the loud noise. steve reaches it first, hitting the stop button and then song cuts off abruptly, leaving the car suddenly very, very quiet.

you slither back from between the front seats and so does steve, the two of you side by side in the backseat. you laugh before you realise you’re doing so.

steve groans, head tilting back. “i’m gonna kill henderson.”

“sexy and saucy, huh?” you tease lightheartedly.

steve snorts, rolling his head to look at you. “i think my boner died.”

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stevescheekcut · 16 days ago

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So I was reading your post about how Steve takes pride in having a scratched up back and it got me thinking about how he’d react to his girl being physically unable to stand/walk the morning after. Like he’d be so smug for at least a week all like >:) hehehe I did that >:). And the entire day he’d be all smirky like ‘does my baby need to be carried’ and then you tell him he’s banned from sex for a week lol.

FJDHSHSHS this ask made me actually cackle it was so golden thank u so much for sending it to me <3 it’s more goof than smut <3

There’s an ache between your thighs and you know exactly where you got it.

Well, you know precisely how you got it— from the culprit currently dozing beside you in early morning light.

You have to blink heavily as you come to, drawn out of a deep, deep sleep by the morning dawn. It’s light enough outside for the room to have a soft glow. The curtains are still drawn and the sheets are fresh, though after last night, perhaps they’ll need changing again.

Shifting about to get comfortable, you feel that familiar tenderness between your legs — it’s a soreness that you only get from particularly passionate night.

You peek to the side, searching for your love.

Steve’s hair is sticking up at all angles, mussed up, and his mouth is open, snuffly snores getting pressed into his pillow.

You can’t see that with his back to you, but you can see that canvas of tan skin and moles.

And scratches. Lots and lots of scratches, pink against his skin and raised in some places. An undeniable mark of a good time.

At the sight, some flusters and something preens in you. It stems from something possessive, a purr hiding under your skin at the knowledge you’ll both be feeling little reminders this morning.

You shuffle closer and wake him with a kiss on the back of his neck.

Like your lips stir him, Steve gives a sleepy groan in response, making you smile. You kiss him again, this time further up along his shoulder, and then give him an affectionate little bite. Barely a nibble.

“Mm, hey,” Steve says, voice faux-stern and coated in sleep. It’s gravelly enough to make you consider a round two. You watch over his shoulder as his eyelashes scrunch open. “What’re doin’ back there?”

You soothe your tiny bite-mark with another kiss and push yourself up, sheets pooling around your waist. As much as you’d love to doze off in Steve’s arms all morning, there’s things on your to-do list.

“Nothing of consequence,” you say, looking down at Steve with a loving smile. You trace across between the moles of his back with an idle finger, until he rolls over toward you, forcing you to stop.

“Mhm,” He hums. His hazel eyes are warm like the morning, like the bed, like the softness between you.

“I think that means nothing important— to which I have to protest,” He captures your wandering hand and kisses it gently, eyes fixed on you. “Massively.” Another kiss. “Majorly. Everything you do is important.”

The next kiss is so feathersoft, on the delicate skin on the inside of your wrist, that your laugh is tickled out of you. Worming your hand out of his hold, you grin, even as you roll your eyes.

“Suck up.”

Steve laughs, his voice still rougher than usual. He wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Nuh uh.”

The warmth of his gaze glazes over you as you turn and shuffle to your edge of the bed, pushing on your hands to get to your feet.

It takes about half a second before the ache in your core sends out a hot throb of pain and pleasure, a very imaginable reminder of just how Steve had drilled the ache into you a mere few hours ago.

You push through it and stand, but your legs shake noticeably.

“Oho, baby,” Steve coos, noticing immediately. You turn to glare at him over your shoulder and find he’s perked up, his head held up in his hand. He looks divine — and far, far too happy about the quake in your legs.

“Rough night?”

“Shut up,” You say with no bite. “Like it isn’t your damn fault.”

Steve laughs, “That’s exactly why I’m smirking, honey.”

You take a step and your legs feel no less like jelly, a little bend in your knees you have to correct quickly.

The warm ache pulses and you can only think of—Steve pushing your thigh up against your chest, grinding his hips into you, each deep thrust pulling these desperate sounds from you as he lost himself in you—

You take another step and something buckles, making you stumble for a moment. Your face flames with heat.

“Woah, you alright?” There’s a tint of concern to Steve’s voice as he properly sits up in the bed and scoots over to sit closer to your side. Reaching out, he tenderly rubs your lower back, his brows pinched together as he checks you over.

“I’m okay,” You say over your shoulder to appease his genuine worry. Then you lean back into his hand with a dramatic huff, rolling your eyes again. “No thanks to you.”

“Mm, I fucked you good,” Steve hums casually, leaning forward to press a kiss to the hip he can reach. There’s a smugness to his tone that you actually can’t dispute because he’s absolutely correct.

“Does baby need to be carried?” He says, enjoying himself far too much.

You glare down at him, letting him simmer in his smugness for just a moment. Your hand reaches down, tangling in his hair, and you smile like you’re about to fall into his arms and say oh yes baby, please.

“I think,” You begin, casting your gaze to the ceiling as you think. “Mm, no sex for a week for that comment.”

Steve’s mouth pops open, an aghast expression on his face. “Baby!”

You wander backward, away from his wandering hand, focusing on making sure your legs keep you upright. There’s a goading grin on your face.

“You heard me.”

“That’s- you— I’m being punished for being good at my job!”

Your head tilts back in laughter as you reach the doorway. You eye him with a knowing smirk, shaking your head softly. “That’s not why you’re being punished and you know why…”

As you turn, heading for the kitchen, you don’t doubt the pout on Steve’s lips.

#smut #-ish #sorry for the spam i’m cleaning out my likes!

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stevescheekcut · 16 days ago

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★ . . . 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞.

nsfw. mdni. p in v sex. boob play. repost from forever ago. requested by @cherrysadnsss 𐑺

steve was in a rhythm, his body perfectly melding with yours with each jut of his hips, filling you right to the brim. there wasn't a beat that he was missing, hitting all the right spots as his tongue rolled across the cherubs of your breasts.

he leans back up, staring down at you now as his hair falls idly around his face. the lights were dim, but the moonlight from outside was dancing across his features.

god, he was beautiful.

you could feel the coil in the pit of your tummy building, wanting to bend and break, but seeing steve like this was something special. you were the only one that got to see him like this. vulnerable, needing, craving the feeling of being inside you.

you didn't want this moment to end.

"steve," you moan his name, but he thinks nothing of it. you always said his name while he was buried deep inside you and he loved it. "steve... slow down, baby."

it was evident by the way his eyes widened that he thought something was wrong and immediately stops thrusting, "i-i'm not hurting you, am i?"

"no, no, no," you brush the chocolate curls out of his face as best you can, letting your hand linger on his cheek, "you're not hurting me. i just - i want to look at you for a bit longer."

the corner of his mouth tugs up into a smirk, "in that case... is this slow enough?" he pushes himself into you at an almost torturous pace, pulling a moan from deep within you, and chuckles at your reaction.

୭ back to main masterlist ┆ join my taglist here .ᐟ

#smut

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stevescheekcut · 16 days ago

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thinking about getting fingered by Steve in the backseat of his car and being crowded against the door and sitting at an awkward angle but not moving because the thought of his fingers losing that spot is a million times worse than the sore neck… just UGHHH 😩

a hungharrington fic? in 2025? i'm just as surprised as you <3 1.3k, fem!reader, what the prompt says hehe MDNI this entire blog is 18+

The numbers on the dashboard blink in the night, reflecting the late night hour.

From the outside, Steve's car looks unassuming, parked in between the trees out by Skull Rock.

You're given away only by the faint fogging of the windows, though you have little doubt of how steamy they'll be soon enough. With the hot heat of Steve's mouth against the skin of your neck and the surety of his fingers, curling closer between your thighs, it's not an if, it's a when.

"God, I missed you s'much," He murmurs heavily. His words get smothered beneath his own fervent kisses, your skin tingling beneath the attention. He can't bring himself to break away from you for more than a moment.

Steve had headed out of Hawkins for the better part of a week, dragged by his parents who wouldn't take no for an answer. He'd returned just tonight, maroon car glinting the last of the evening sun up at your window.

You'd slipped down and taken the passenger seat always reserved for you.

And then, somewhere between there and now, Steve had cajoled you into the backseat, his hazel eyes bright with an adoring lust as he nipped at your neck.

"Missed you too," You gasp breathily.

Tilting back, your head gently hits the glass of the car window behind you. Your hair wipes some of the fog off and Steve nibbles a soft lovebite under your ear, soothing it with his tongue. His hands paw hungrily at your waist and you grapple to find purchase on his shoulders.

"Not as much as me, baby," Steve pants.

He finally pulls himself back from his affectionate attack on your neck, eyes darker, face flushed. His hand on your waist slides forward, following the line of your hips forward, down, til he's cupping your cunt. You think you get a little lightheaded from the way your blood rushes south, gloriously hot at the touch.

He kisses you, his groan seeping into your mouth. It fills your head, heavy and sticky with lewd thoughts.

"Thought of you every," He rubs you through the denim softly. "Damn," Another rub, more pressure this time. "Day."

You keen, hips canting forward, searching for more of that delicious friction. Steve gives you what you want; he always does. You reward him, your hands on his shoulders shifting. You twine your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, just how he likes it.

The inside of the car feels much, much warmer now. The windows can't be seen through anymore and it seems to cast the red light of the dashboard clock much further. Steve's heavy breath fanning across your face is the loudest thing in the car.

You should've worn a skirt, you think— right as Steve asks, "Can I?" his hand now up, thumbing at the button of your jeans.

His check-in douses the ember within you with gasoline, burning hotter, brighter, in an instant. You know what he's asking for, know exactly how well Steve knows how to use his fingers. The thought of them buried in you, crooked just right, suddenly has you aching for it.

Nodding, you murmur out your yes' as you shuffle about, working to kick off your shoes quickly. Steve pulls back to not be in the way, jumping back in time to help you peel the denim off from your legs.

You manage to get your fingertips beneath the elastic of your panties before you're interrupted.

"Keep them on," Steve says, knocking your hand aside. He surges back in, his fervour undulled, and his large hands find your hips, tugging forward.

You end up slightly perched in his lap, slightly pressed into the back corner against the window and the seat. It's an awkward position but when the warmth of Steve's fingers pet your cunt again, cotton stickier now, you can forgive it. You sling your arms around his neck to get closer.

"That's it," Steve murmurs lowly. He ducks his head to reignite every lovebite left on your neck as his fingers get bolder, pressing firmer. Your breath gets thinner, chest heaving more and more.

"God, my girl," He breathes, fingers spreading the wetness up and over your clit tantalizingly. You mewl at his too-soft motions, needing more.

"Steve," You urge.

He doesn't make you wait. Pinching the edge, he pulls your panties to the side and then dips his fingers into the well of slick wet waiting eagerly for him.

You make matching groans; Steve moaning at heat of your inviting cunt, wrapped around him, and you sighing at the way his long digit sinks into you, slow and so sweet.

"Steve," You say his name again, this time a honey, lusty thing.

Steve breaks his kiss to moan against your neck, feeding on the obvious salacious eagerness in you. His finger draws back and then he sinks it back in, beginning slowly to fuck it in and out.

"Missed you," He whispers. A second finger prods at your entrance and eases in gently, sending a streak of something white hot down your spine. Your arms around his neck tighten.

"Missed this," He continues, still a whisper. He's picking up the pace now, having found a lazy rhythm, fingers sliding in and out of your cunt so perfectly that it makes your clit twitch, envious and missing out.

You whine into the crook of his neck. "Me too."

Then, just as you think the angle of your back might be just a tad too uncomfortable, Steve curls his fingers.

A gaspy noise escapes your throat. Desire pulses wildly and you can feel the way you flutter around his fingers. Steve's other hand on your waist tightens, gripping you tightly.

"Fuuuck," He groans. "I missed that too."

Then he does it again, fingers crooked to hit that perfect spot that makes you feel like you might cry if he rubbed it too much. Your noises sound much louder now, jagged and pitching up.

"You're such a tease, honey," Steve accuses, his motions not slowing. "Keeping me from this. Keeping all your cute noises to yourself."

And, as if he'll know what it'll do, he stretches his hand, veins bulging in his forearm, and plants his thumb on your clit. You jolt against the new stimulation, another cute gaspy noise, and Steve moans against your neck.

His hand keeps moving, fingers still plunging into your sopping cunt, thumb rubbing tight, small circles on your clit. You cling to him, hips rolling to meet his strokes, the heat in you building, suddenly desperately fast. Your breathing comes out heavy and if it's not a moan, it's his name that slips from between your lips.

"Feelin' good? M' making my girl feel good?" He says raspily. "You deserve it, being left alone. So mean of me."

Something fiery swells within you and you inhale sharply, squeaking out Steve's name in warning. His hand, which must be cramping much like your poor back, still rocks into you, unfaltering.

"C'mon, let me have it. Please," He pleads. "Let me see you cum f'me, honey."

The sincere thread in his voice, the genuine plead, is what unravels your last ties. You tremble, lusty and quivering sounds that you bury away in his neck, as you ride his fingers through a dazzlingly hot high. It drags on, nerves glittering with a fresh coat of pleasure that have you whining Steve's name pitifully.

When your breath starts to settle, Steve eases his fingers out, already beginning to pepper little kisses along the side of your head.

"That was big, huh?" He says. It's mostly care in his voice but there, in the back, is a smidgen of smugness.

"Shhhh," You shush him, still gathering yourself, eyes closed. You body gives a volatile twitch when Steve politely moves your panties back to their original position. "I'm deciding if that was worth fucking up my back a little bit for."

Steve makes a wounded noise, realising that he'd had you crowded up in an uncomfortable position the whole time. He's a worrier. That's enough to make you lift your head off his shoulder, eyes lidded low.

"Mmm, decided." You hum, the pleased smile of post-bliss on your face. Steve softens at the sight of it, at your easy happiness. "Worth it."

#screaming crying shaking throwing up cumming #smut

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stevescheekcut · 16 days ago

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I heard horny steve thots??

okay so. he has big hands. big hands = big fingers. steve is the biggest lover boy.

steve x big hands x big fingers x lover boy = he is a menace for fingering you. like he’ll edge you to oblivion because he loves the way you squirm. he could almost cum in his pants when he does it. he’s soooo soft but leans more soft dom when he’s feeling brave 🫶🏻

happy fucking friday, pookie

just came in my pants thinking abt it actually also did u guys know chloe's gonna be my roommate soon!!? crazy to think i literally met her through steve harrington fan fiction on tumblr dot com steve harrington x fem!reader MDNI 18+ vaginal fingering, squirting, cumming in pants (bc why not?), language, weed consumption & intoxicated fooling around, edging, subby!steve, teasing

gasoline, pretty please

"Christ, what did Munson put in this?" Steve asks from his seat beside you on the bench of his 83' bimmer, staring at the remnants of an edible shared between you.

"Gold." You laugh lazily.

Getting high with Steve Harrington was a risky gamble. He happened to be your only friend besides Eddie who smoked or consumed marijuana in any medium, but the tension between the two of you when you did was nearly unbearable.

You'd managed to get through every session thus far without crossing any uncrossable boundaries; nothing more than some harmless flirting. But you'd also never done an edible together before.

Hanging out with Steve sober was a challenge in itself. What, with his disarming hazel eyes and his effortless charm and his witty sense of humor. Can you really blame a girl?

Now though? Your guard is down. Inhibitions? Released.

"I've never told anyone this before," Steve says easily, his head resting against the headrest, "But weed makes me really horny."

What the hell and fuck.

Yeah, sure. Weed makes everyone horny. You're not supposed to say it out loud. He's chuckling impishly as if he hasn't completely sucked the air out of the space by that sentence alone. An involuntary squeeze of your thighs to relieve the pressure there, you turn your head to look at him.

"Yeah, uh," you pause, "me too. I guess." The admission shocks you, even as it leaves your mouth and penetrates the air between the two of you.

Steve throat bobs as he swallows thickly, as if willing the cogs to turn in his brain through the thick fog of THC.

His hand snakes hesitantly the short distance across the leather bench before landing heavy on your bare thigh. His fingers are calloused and warm against your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Steve..."

Steve's fingers leave a burning path where they travel up your thigh, closer and closer to your core. You can't help but notice how fucking long his fingers are. You can't help but imagine what they'd feel like pummeling into you, making you orgasm over and over and--

Jesus Christ what is happening right now.

You don't stop him as he pops the button on your denim shorts, or as he unzips the fly, or as his hand slips beneath the seam of your panties. He gathers the arousal that's been steadily leaking from you all evening, bringing his hand to his mouth and sucking on his index and middle finger. You've never seen anything so obscene in your life; the fact that it was Steve of all people left you feeling like you were trapped in some sort of erotic twilight zone.

The sight itself is enough to having you all but launching yourself over the seat to capture Steve's mouth in a bruising kiss. Teeth and tongue and reeling gasps before he's pushing you to lie back on the burgundy leather bench.

He doesn't seem at all focused on himself as he rips your shorts down your thighs with a clumsy fervor; that's only the first thing that feels different from hookups you've had in the past.

The second is that you've never been eaten out like this in your life.

Seriously. This is earth-shattering head.

Steve Harrington is perched in front of you as best he can in the cramped space, eating your pussy like this life depends on it. He licks long, flat stripes up your folds, stopping each time to pay a little extra attention to your clit; humping absently into the seat all the while. As if the idea alone of pleasuring you was enough to get him all hot and bothered.

When you couldn't stand to not be kissing him for another second, you yank him forward with a hand in his hair. You realize a little too late that it was probably painful, but if it bothered Steve, he didn't show it. If anything, he seemed to be into it; a pitiful whine escaping his lips to be swallowed by yours.

"You like it when I pull your hair, baby?" You venture to say, completely unsure how it'll land but entirely too far gone to care.

Steve keens. Gotcha.

You take to knotting your fist in his hair again with a little more purpose this time, pulling low at the nape of his neck. He whimpers again, rutting hard into the muscle of your thigh. You know that old myth about how if a man has big hands, that also means he has a big dick? It's not a myth.

His hand finds your cunt again with reverence, evidently done letting himself be distracted. Two long, thick fingers plunge into your sopping core, while a thumb circles your clit. Impressively coordinated for someone who was high, and you try not to dwell on how many women he's probably pulled this exact move on.

There's no time to pout when his digits are curling into you in a way you've never been able to replicate on your own; hitting your g-spot every time without miss. A perfect 'come here' gesture inside your walls.

But just then, your eyes shoot open with panic. The sensation of having to pee building in your lower abdomen where you'd usually feel your impending orgasm.

"Steve," you gasp.

"Can feel you squeezing me, baby. Y'gonna come soon?" He asks breathlessly, sucking a bruise into your collarbone.

"No, Steve, wait--"

"I know, I know," he coos. But you fear that he doesn't know. That's the problem. You keen, your head hitting the glass window behind you. As odd of a sensation it is, you can't bear the thought of him stopping either.

"Just trust me." Steve says, and before you can ask what he means, he's pressing a firm palm to your lower abdomen.

The pleasure of your orgasm washes over you in waves of ecstasy, almost enough for you not to notice the liquid gushing out of you and all over Steve's hands, arms, and precious leather seats.

But he doesn't seem to care. It spurs him on more, actually; his thrusts growing frantic before his hips falter with a grunt to the crook of your neck. The section where his clothed crotch meets your thigh growing wet with what you realize is his cum.

Steve Harrington just came in his pants while fingering you.

After a few baited moments of silence, he lifts himself from your chest; bashfully observing the mess he made. A scarlet blush crawls up his cheeks,

You sit up, frantic. "God, your seats. I'm- I'm so sorry-"

Steve's quick to shut down your worries, "No that was-- one of the hottest things I've ever fucking seen in my life."

You're still not even totally sure what exactly you did, but you'd rather not push the issue.

Steve's kisses you twice more on the lips, then once on the forehead before helping you climb back into the passenger seat.

"Let's get you home, yeah?" Steve suggests, letting the bimmer purr to life, "Get cleaned up."

"Are you good to drive?" You check.

"Yeah, definitely." He chuckles sheepishly, "Sobered me up a bit."

In a split second of uncharacteristic confidence, you venture to ask: "Are you, uhm, doing anything? Like for the rest of the night?"

"Depends who's asking," he replies smoothly.

"Me," you grin, "I'm asking."

"In that case," Steve shifts the car into gear and eases the gas, "just taking this pretty girl back to my huge, empty house."

#smut #oh boy….

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stevescheekcut · 16 days ago

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CODE RED CONFESSIONS | Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: Steve Harrington is bleeding out in a vine-covered hallway of the Upside Down. You’re trying to stay calm, Dustin is spiraling, and Steve—of all things—decides now is the time to confess he’s been in love with you since the day you called him a hairspray-huffing man-child. Then he says if he survives, he’s going to propose. (He’s delirious. Probably.)

Warnings: Blood, mild injury, swearing, Upside Down creepiness, love confession, Dustin being emotionally unprepared.

Word Count: 1.2k

The air was thick and wrong.

It clung to your lungs like smoke and poison, that same stale rot you always associated with the Upside Down. Your flashlight flickered as you backed into a corner of the makeshift hallway, what used to be an elementary school, now overtaken by black vines and wet walls.

Steve was bleeding.

Dustin was panicking.

You were trying to stay calm.

“Y/N, we have to move!” Dustin’s voice cracked, shrill and scared.

“I know,” you said, gripping his arm and pulling him closer. “But Steve…” you hesitated, “he’s not gonna make it like this.”

Steve slumped against the wall beside you, one hand pressed to his side, blood dripping between his fingers. “It’s not… that bad,” he muttered.

“Shut up, Harrington,” you snapped, tears stinging your eyes. “You’re literally bleeding.”

He gave you a weak grin. “Still handsome though, right?”

You choked on a half-laugh, half-sob. “Unbelievable.”

The hallway pulsed around you, the vines twitching like they could hear you. You had maybe five minutes, tops, before whatever was hunting you circled back. You turned to Dustin, your little brother with wide terrified eyes and a trembling jaw.

“I need you to get him out of here,” you told him.

Dustin blinked. “No. No! We’re not splitting up. That’s rule number one!”

“I’m not leaving either of you behind,” Steve rasped. “Forget it.”

You dropped to your knees in front of him, hands shaking as you reached for his wound. “You’re barely conscious.”

“I can keep going.”

“You can barely sit up.”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

“Then stop bleeding so much!”

“Guys!” Dustin shouted. “This is not the time for couple’s therapy!”

Silence fell as you froze but Steve…didn’t. He laughed—hoarse and wild—“Yeah, well… maybe it is.”

You turned to him slowly. “What?”

He was pale, sweaty, and dizzy. But he looked at you like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner, I just…I didn’t want it to be like this.”

You stared at him.

“I’m in love with you,” he said, voice cracking. “I’ve been in love with you since the day you yelled at me in the Wheelers’ driveway and called me a hairspray-huffing man-child.”

Dustin made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a gag. “OH MY GOD.”

You didn’t look away from Steve.

“Say it again,” you whispered.

He blinked. “What?”

“Say it again.”

“I love you,” he said, softer this time. “I love you. And if this is it, if we die in some hell dimension that smells like burnt metal and mildew, I just needed you to know.”

Your chest ached.

You reached out and cupped his face gently, fingers brushing his jaw. “You’re not gonna die, Steve.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, because I love you too, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting you bleed out after that confession.”

Dustin screamed. “CAN I GET A PORTAL OR A PAIR OF EARPLUGS OR SOMETHING?!”

You ignored him, leaning in to press a firm kiss to Steve’s forehead. “You’re gonna be okay. But if you ever pull a dramatic deathbed confession stunt like that again, I swear to God—”

“I’ll propose instead,” Steve mumbled.

You nearly dropped him, “Steve!”

“I’m delirious. I get a pass.”

“Y’all better make it out alive just so I can bleach my brain,” Dustin whined, tugging at your sleeve. “Let’s go before Vecna comes back and makes this into a soap opera.”

An hour later, you were topside. Covered in dirt and sweat and blood, but alive.

Steve was lying in the back of an ambulance, sipping orange Gatorade like it was holy water. You stood beside him, holding his hand, while Dustin paced nearby like a mother hen on speed.

“I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “My sister and Steve. Steve.”

You grinned at him. “You’ll live.”

He glared. “You better treat him right, or I’m breaking into your diary.”

Steve coughed. “You already do that.”

Dustin blinked. “That is beside the point.”

You leaned down and pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “You did good, Harrington.”

He smiled, dazed. “So… I wasn’t dreaming?”

“Nope.”

“Cool. I’m gonna pass out now.”

“Go for it.” as he closed his eyes, Dustin crossed his arms, staring at you. “You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?” you asked.

He smirked. “Nope.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling because the boy you loved was safe. And for once, you weren’t running from it.

A few hours later, Steve slowly wakes to beeping. Then comes warmth, bandages, a dull throb in his ribs, a plastic tube in his nose, and the faint smell of bleach and lemon sanitizer.

And Dustin’s voice,“—like, for the record, I still think it’s weird. I’m not saying you don’t deserve her. I’m just saying it’s deeply unsettling to wake up one day and realize your best friend is in love with your sister.”

Steve groans. “Am I in hell?”

Dustin gasps. “He lives.”

Steve cracks open one eye. The room is spinning slightly. His throat’s dry. His head’s pounding. And right next to his bed is Dustin—smug little gremlin—holding a balloon that says, in shiny cursive: “Congratulations, I guess”

Steve squints. “Did you… have that made?”

“Sure did.” Dustin points to it proudly. “Customized at the gas station balloon pump. They had 'It’s a Boy!' and 'Just Divorced,' but I wanted something subtle.”

Steve coughs a laugh. “You’re such a freak.”

“And you almost died, so maybe don’t insult me yet.” Dustin leans back, arms crossed. “We’re all a little emotionally unwell.”

Steve glances at the door. “Is she…?”

Dustin nods toward the hallway. “She’s getting coffee. She’s been here since they wheeled you in. I still can’t believe my best friend is in love with my sister… and she loves you back!”

Steve blinks. “Yeah, wild, right?”

“No, like—seriously—that’s movie-level emotional development, Harrington. Character growth.”

Steve smirks. “I’m flattered.”

Dustin shakes his head, waving a hand. “No. I don’t think you understand. You used to be the guy who wore sunglasses indoors. Who couldn’t spell ‘bouquet,’ who thought fast food ketchup packets counted as cooking.”

“I mean—”

“And now?” Dustin gestures dramatically. “You’re the guy my sister cries over. The one she watches sleep like a sad indie movie. The one who gets her coffee order right without asking!”

Steve stares at him. “You okay?”

Dustin slumps into the chair. “I’m feeling things, man.”

The door creaks open.

You step inside, holding two Styrofoam cups. You freeze when you see Steve awake, then break into a smile so full of love it makes Steve’s breath catch.

Dustin stands. “I’ll give you two a moment.” He walks past you, muttering as he goes, “God help me if you two get married and I have to do a toast.”

You look after him, confused. “What did I miss?”

Steve just smiles as you sit down beside him and hand him his coffee. “Nothing,” he says, voice low and warm. “Just… everything I ever wanted.”

#henderson #awwww #fluff #mrh

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stevescheekcut · 16 days ago

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show-time

request: i cannot stop thinking about asking steve if he ever got himself off to you before you got together. he’d be so blushy and sheepish about it but man it’d be fun to watch him squirm 🤤

2.1k words, established relationship, masturbation (steve), gn!reader, MDNI this entire blog is 18+

It’s a universally awkward experience to have a sex-scene come on in a movie. Unless one’s watching it alone, of course.

You are not. Cuddled in behind you, cushioning you against his chest, Steve lounges, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Sure, in terms of awkwardness-rankings, watching this with your boyfriend who you also have sex with isn’t as bad as, like, watching with parents.

But still. You kinda can’t tell if you should be watching or averting your eyes — and you don’t want to peek over your shoulder to figure out what Steve’s doing.

The man in the film grunts, his hand in his pants jerking furiously, his eyes fixed on a polaroid of the film’s love interest.

You squint—surely this is stretching the truth a bit?

Yeah, yeah, guys jerk off, you know that - this isn’t your first day on earth.

You just didn’t think it would be like, romantic style. People in movies kiss in the rain and run through airports, so they’re hardly known for being grounded in reality.

The man in the film groans lewdly and you feel Steve shift slightly behind you, his fingers looped around your middle twitching.

Did he-? When you-? You suppose you’ve never really thought about it.

You’re asking before you can second guess yourself.

“Did you do this?”

Steve’s attention switches idly from the screen to you as you crane your neck to look back at him. His brows pinch together.

“Did I do what?” He asks, doting brown eyes searching your face.

You fluster a bit. This is certainly moving you up through the awkwardness rankings. But now it’s in your head —now you’ve said it — you can’t turn back.

The thought of it blazes hotly through your mind.

Steve, all those months ago, still just crushing on you, but never quite making a move. He’d told you, whispered his secret, when you’d finally gotten the nerve to ask him to be your boyfriend officially, that he’d been sweet on you far longer than you knew.

But the image of it is what has you interested. You imagine Steve, his fist stuffed into his tight jeans, working himself over and biting his fist to hide his moans, at the mere thought of you.

You’d had plenty of long, late night conversations on the phone before officially getting together.

The thought of if he’d ever touched himself while you talked, none the wiser on the other end, wanders into your mind — and your stomach clenches hotly at the thought.

Clearing your throat, you tip your head towards the screen.

“Like, before we got together?”

It takes Steve another glance at the screen to realise what you’re asking. A simmering, pink colour crawls up his neck and in a moment, you go from feeling awkward to feeling downright devious.

Steve clears his throat, his eyes darting rapidly back and forth from the screen to your face. “Uh, I- I mean, why do you ask?”

A coy smile curls at your mouth. “I wanna know how accurate it is.”

Steve stares down at you, the pink now creeping up his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. God, he looks delectable like this.

Is this how he looked when he did it too? Blushy and embarrassed to commit such a filthy act thinking of someone that wasn’t his? A hot buzz drizzles through your core, fringed with endearment.

Steve licks his lips nervously. His hands on your stomach stiffen and then relax. The film plays on in the background. His expression shifts towards something sheepish.

“It’s — I, uh, well, yes.” He stammers. “It’s accurate, yes.”

“How many times?”

Steve’s eyes narrow, but his face gets redder. “What is this, an interrogation now?”

You giggle, drinking in his evidently embarrassed state. The confirmation of him doing it solidifies the perfect image of him in your mind, your own film-scene imagining Steve in the same position as the character on screen. In real life, Steve moves his hand to tug at the collar of his shirt.

“I’m just… enjoying the idea of it.” You muse.

“Uh huh,” Steve says, tongue jammed into the side of his cheek. “Not just—” He fumbles for his words. “Just enjoying seeing me, I don’t know, like—”

His words trail off and his head tips back with a groan, exposing the delicious expanse of his throat. It begs you for kisses and love bites. He moves both hands up to cover his face.

You wait til he pulls them away to nod. “Absolutely, baby. Watching you squirm is far more interesting than this film.”

In the background, the man on screen gives a pornographic shout as he finishes in his pants. Steve manages to turn redder, even if he keeps his eyes fixed on you.

“But I’m just,” You huff and pout. “Put out, I guess. You did all that for me and I didn’t even get to see it.”

At the exact same time, you watch as Steve’s pupils dilate, blowing out in obvious lust, and something pressed against your back thickens up.

Steve, to his credit, only makes one strained noise which he immediately smothers with a cough. You feel his hips twitch beneath you and make a quick decision, confidence built on the sweltering heat of Steve’s face.

You push forward and up, then quickly turn, slotting your knees across either side of Steve’s thighs, perching atop them nicely.

You’re not outright in his lap—there’s room between the two of you for what you hope will happen.

It takes Steve another long moment to catch your drift.

“Wait, you want-?” He inhales sharply. You can see the twitch of his cock through his loose sweatpants. “To see?”

“To watch,” You clarify, smiling almost mischievously. “Yeah.”

Then just to check, “Is that okay?”

Steve’s breath shudders out of him but he’s nodding before the question is completely out of your mouth.

“H-Here?” He checks. You nod, resting your hands atop your thighs to show you don’t plan on using them. Steve’s hungry eyes scan you up and down, the tent in his pants pitching up in arousal.

“Just show me how you did it,” You murmur, words on the side of sultry. Your own excitement, that faint thrum of pleasure, has already started to pool low in your gut.

“Yeah, but I normally don’t have an audience for it,” Steve mumbles, his left-hand reaching for the drawstrings of his sweats.

They come undone with a simple tug. Steve stretches the elastic out a bit and then slips his hand in.

You know the moment his large hand settles around his cock from the flutter of his lashes, the soft groan that curls out his throat, rough and sweet all at once.

This… This is new. You usually don’t get such a focused look at Steve’s pleasure, at the little shifts in his expression, too wrapped up in your own pleasure to pay proper attention. Getting this much detail sends a delicious throb between your thighs. You hardly want to blink.

Steve’s hand moves slow to begin with, slow, gentle strokes to get himself properly warmed up.

After a moment, he draws his hand back and some part of you worries he’s too weirded out now. But he only brings it up, to his mouth, and you realise what he’s doing.

Quickly stealing his hand, Steve’s eyes widen as you let spit drop from your lips and pool in his palm. Another soft, jagged noise drags from his throat.

“Jesus Christ,” He murmurs, more to himself. “This is not what it’s like when it’s just me, this is, like, ten fucking times hotter.”

His hand sneaks back into his sweatpants but this time when he grips his cock, the reaction this time is immediate.

Steve moans, louder this time, his eyes crushing closed and his hand starts moving faster. With the help of your spit, it doesn’t take long before you can hear it, the slick sounds of him fucking his cock desperately.

His head tips back against the couch and a piece of hair flops over, into his eyes.

You reach out and brush it to the side and Steve’s eyes crease open at the same time a whine threads through his moans.

“Fuck,” He grunts. He sinks in teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes desperately roaming your face. “Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty.”

“That what you thought bout?”

You’re impressed with yourself for the cool, calm demeanour you’re portraying. Steve nods, the motion a little wild, his hand still making those lewd, wet noises.

“Uh huh,” His voice shakes a little. “Just, fuck, dunno, like, your face and-uh-what y-you’d sound like.”

Your eyes glitter with interest, ego raring at the devotion your boyfriend is spilling out.

“What I’d sound like?”

“Y-Yeah,” Steve stammers, his breathing heavy. “Like, doing this.”

Now that’s a picture; Steve jerking off to the thought of you, hot and bothered with your hand between your thighs. You give a breathy gasp without meaning to.

Steve hears it, groaning louder as he quickens his pace. You sort of want to reach forward and ruck up his shirt, so you can see the glorious clench of his stomach as he rolls his hips up into his warm hand.

“Can I see more?” You ask tentatively. “Please?”

This time, it’s more like a whimper that creeps out of Steve’s throat.

“Oh my god,” Steve mumbles through a stilted moan. “Jesus Christ. Yeah, yeah, of course.”

He swallows heavily, his free hand reaching down to push at his waistband. You help, lifting up to help tug the fabric out of the way.

Obstructions removed, your mouth salivates. Steve’s cock is pretty — and it looks that much more enticing when it’s worked up, pink and the tip of it leaking all over his hand.

Steve’s a fucking vision. His head still lolled back, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. His throat, dotted with moles, crawling with pinkness. His big, veiny hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it steadily.

You think about how much you’d like the lick the trail of hair on his tummy, down, down, down.

“You seem close,” You say and it earns you a reedy whimper in response. “Is it- does it normally happen this fast?”

“Are you kidding me?” Steve whispers back. His eyes are closed and after a moment, you realise he’s trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly, even as his hand doesn’t slow. “I—ngh— n-normally don’t have such good, ah, material. My imagination is— is not this good.”

You’re equal parts flattered and flustered, heat twinging in your gut.

“Can— can I?” Steve whimpers out suddenly.

The question nearly throws you. You almost say Can you what? when the meaning of it douses you in fire.

He’s asking permission.

Oh, that does something to you.

“Yeah, Stevie,” You say, voice lilting closer to a coo. “I wanna see it, please.”

Something shifts in his motions, changing gear as Steve’s hand suddenly starts moving in smaller, tighter strokes, just over the head of his cock. His head tucks forward, his eyes scrunched closed, and he’s whimpers out, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

It only takes a few seconds, the whine in Steve’s voice pitching higher and higher, until something gives.

His hips take over, something desperate and primal shoving them up, his thrusts rapid and frantic. His hand doesn’t stop moving, not even as his cock starts to leak out ropes of cum, shooting out enough to cover the back of his knuckles. It joins your spit to rub slick against his cock.

He keens pitifully. For one long minute, you listen to Steve’s breathy whines get softer and softer, watch his desperate thrusts abate til an overstimulated shiver wracks through his body. Then, and only then, does he collapse back, sinking into the couch.

He’s a bit ruined, truthfully.

And you’ve soaked through your panties.

“You’re welcome,” You croak, throat dry. His hair is back in his eyes and lean forward, tenderly brushing it out of the way. You leave your hand there, cupping the side of his face, and Steve leans into it, still panting.

“What?” He asks.

“You were thanking me,” You point out cheekily.

Steve’s face plunges back to that scarlet colour you’re beginning to adore most ardently. He turns his face further to hide away in the palm of your hands.

“Shut up,” He mumbles.

“So you don’t wanna do that again?” You tease.

Steve pulls back and eyes you. “Now, hang on, I didn’t say that…”

#I SWEAR I SENT THIS ASK AND DIDNT SEE IT UNTIL RN #HOLY SHIT…….#im at work i should not be this hot under the collar rn #god i need him so bad #thanks jay as always the lords work #mrh

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stevescheekcut · 17 days ago

Note

Hi! It’s the anon with the super specific request - thank you for replying to me. So either in a later reticent timeline or a stand alone, but say Steve and reader have moved and are living together in some big city. Steve starts to ironically say “honey I’m home” whenever he gets home and eventually it becomes a force of habit. Cut to a slightly older Dustin showing up at your doorstep one day unannounced so you take him in ofc then cut to a few hours later and Steve comes home and “honey I’m home” only to turn the corner and be greeted by Dustin wearing a shit eating grin and Steve is all “come on man, what’re you doing here? You can’t just show up unannounced” like the banter they were giving in season 4 but really he’s so wrapped to have him stay for a few nights and then it’s just Dustin interrupting their little life together and making comments about “thin walls” to embarrass Steve and he’s all like wtf you don’t talk about sex, you don’t know about sex you’re a child and Dustin is like dude I’m however old. Sorry if this is a mess and no pressure at all, I just thought it could be fun

Unexpected Arrival

Summary: Dustin shows up to your apartment unannounced to stay over for the week.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, mentions of sex, no smut but it leads up to it, making out, dustin showing up unannounced, post upside down stuff, could be in the reticent universe or an alternate universe (will decide after season five releases)

Word Count: 2k

Note: Thank you for your request! I lowkey made the reader and Steve in this one shot similar to Star and Steve in the Reticent universe, but since I have no idea what’s going to happen in season five, I don’t want this to be a definite post season five fic. However, once season five releases and I finish Reticent, I may make another fic similar to this (if Steve and Star make it out alive). Enjoy this cutesy little one shot.

Stranger Things Masterlist

ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡

Ever since you and Steve moved into your apartment together in the big city, he wouldn’t hesitate to come home after work and say, “Honey, I’m home!”

It started off as a joke, but then it became a part of your routine. He’d walk in, kick off his shoes, and call it out while balancing a grocery bag or some takeout containers. Sometimes he’d lean against the doorframe with a smirk on his face, waiting for you to laugh or groan or throw a pillow at him for being corny. You never did because you actually enjoyed the words coming out of his mouth.

It made you giddy whenever he greeted you that way, like the two of you were really taking that next big step. Living together, loving each other, building a little home out of this apartment with the weird closet and creaky heater.

Your mornings were slow, filled with sleepy yawns and Steve’s arms wrapped around you tight so you wouldn’t be able to leave for work until he peppered you with a million kisses. He always looked half-awake when he padded into the kitchen, grabbing two mugs for coffee and kissing your forehead while you cooked something simple. Sometimes, if he managed to get out of bed earlier than you, he’d be the one to make the two of you breakfast.

The two of you were settled now. The city was loud and overwhelming at first, a lot different than the quiet you two experienced in Hawkins (despite all the Upside Down havoc), but it became easier once you found your rhythm. Grocery runs, laundry day, movie nights on the couch, dance parties in the kitchen, it all felt so easy with him around.

You finished up at the office and came home to a quiet apartment. Steve was still at work, but you knew he wouldn’t be much longer as he usually got off about an hour after you. Some days, it would be the opposite, with you arriving home after him. It was nice, the way your schedules lined up like that, even if your jobs were nothing alike. You spent your days dealing with case files and clients as a lawyer, while Steve had to deal with trying to make math sound fun as an elementary school teacher.

You liked the contrast, where your days were filled with arguments and deadlines, while his were filled with story time and crayons. You’d both come home tired, sometimes cranky, but there was comfort in knowing you had someone to come home to.

You dropped your bag near the front door and slipped off your shoes. The early evening sunlight spilled in through the windows, casting a soft glow over the kitchen counter where a small stack of mail waited. You ignored it for now and padded into the bedroom to freshen up and change into something more comfortable, opting for a pair of sweatpants and one of Steve’s shirts.

By the time you wandered back into the kitchen, a knock at the front door made you pause. Your brows pulled together as you glanced toward the hallway. You weren’t expecting anyone. You knew it wasn’t Steve because he had his keys. Unless he somehow lost them.

You opened the door and froze. There stood Dustin Henderson, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a huge grin spreading across his face.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, already pulling you into a hug. “Did you miss me?”

“Dustin?” You laughed, hugging him back before leaning away to look at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on spring break,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then he stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, taking his shoes off and tossing his bag near the wall. “College is stressful. You guys have snacks, right?”

“Uh…sure, come in, I guess,” you said, still processing his sudden arrival. “You couldn’t have called?”

You weren’t mad, but maybe a little caught off guard. It wasn’t like you didn’t want him there, because you loved Dustin, but it would’ve been nice to have a heads-up. You were planning on ordering takeout again since you were too exhausted to cook dinner. Steve wouldn’t have minded and would just collapse on the couch with you like usual. Now, with a guest, you felt like you should actually make food.

“That ruins the surprise,” Dustin said easily, making himself comfortable on the couch. “It’s more fun this way.”

You sighed and turned back to the kitchen, already pulling open the fridge to see what you could throw together. You weren’t upset, just mildly exasperated. But you’d known Dustin too long to be surprised by stuff like this.

“Steve’s definitely going to be surprised,” you muttered, grabbing a carton of eggs and some leftover pasta.

As if right on cue, the door creaked open a few seconds later.

“Honey, I’m home!” Steve called, his voice cheery, keys jingling as he shut the door behind him.

He turned the corner with a smile still on his face, until he saw Dustin sitting on your couch with his legs up like he’d lived there for months.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Steve said.

“Hi, honey,” Dustin said with a shit-eating grin.

Steve looked at you. You held back a laugh and just shrugged.

“Come on, man,” Steve groaned, throwing his arms up. “You can’t just show up like this.”

“Well, I did,” Dustin said. “Thought I’d give my two favorite adults a nice surprise.”

Steve sighed and put his hands on his hips. “You still should’ve called, Henderson.” Though, the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. He ruffled Dustin’s curls before heading to the kitchen. “Are you making dinner?”

You leaned against the counter, watching them both. “I was going to order takeout, but not anymore.”

He sighed, turning his head to look at the younger boy watching TV, before turning back to you and kissing your cheek. “You’re the best. Let me help.”

Later that night, after dinner and a half-played board game that ended in accusations of cheating, you and Steve were curled up on the couch, your legs tangled over his. The TV was on, but you weren’t really watching. You were too busy tracing lazy circles into the back of his neck, your head resting against his chest.

Dustin had already called it a night, disappearing into the spare bedroom with a dramatic, “Alright, goodnight, lovebirds,” before shutting the door behind him.

You let out a quiet laugh as the door clicked shut. Steve was already looking at you with that soft, adoring gaze that always made your cheeks warm.

“You know he’s gonna eat all our cereal tomorrow morning,” you murmured, brushing your nose against his.

Steve grinned. “He’s lucky we like him.”

You leaned in and kissed him. It was supposed to be quick, but before you could pull away, his hand slipped to the back of your head, gently pulling you close. The kiss deepened and his thumb brushed along your jaw. You felt everything around you fade away.

Your hands slid up the front of his shirt, and Steve hummed against your lips. “Come with me,” he whispered, already standing and pulling you with him by the hand.

You followed him to your bedroom, trying to keep quiet as you passed the guest room. Once inside, you shut the door behind you, arms still looped around his neck.

“Steve,” you said in a low voice. “Dustin’s literally down the hall.”

Steve’s mouth curved into a grin. “Then you’ll just have to be quiet.”

You gave him a look but it faded fast when he kissed you again. He guided you gently back toward the bed, hands skimming along your waist, his touch soft against your skin. His lips dragged along your neck, his hands skimmed beneath your shirt like he needed to feel every inch of you.

You tilted your head back, breath hitching as his mouth moved down your collarbone, leaving wet kisses. His hands quickly took off your shirt, and before you could even blink, he had you caged underneath him, having you aching for more.

“Still think this is a bad idea?” He asked, voice low against your skin.

You barely managed to shake your head before he kissed you again. You accidentally let out a loud moan, before Steve deepened the kiss and swallowed your whimpers. His hand slid along your bare waist, fingers splayed like he was trying to memorize the shape of you.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and he let out a quiet, breathless laugh against your mouth. “You’ve gotta be quiet, honey.”

“You’re the one making that difficult,” you whispered, breath hot and uneven as he trailed his lips down your chest.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You arched into him, your nails digging lightly into his back as his hands roamed lower, pressing into your thighs, dragging you impossibly closer. Steve kissed you again with more force, like he wanted to burn the memory of this into both your bodies.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he whispered against your lips, thumb brushing along your cheek.

“I don’t,” you breathed, tugging his hair. “Just don’t make me scream.”

His smirk returned. “No promises.”

The next morning, you woke up in Steve’s arms, your legs still looped with his under the warmth of the comforter. You blinked slowly, turning your head to see Steve already watching you with that lazy, post-sex grin on his face.

“Morning,” he said, voice still rough with sleep.

“Morning,” you mumbled back, stretching slightly with a content sigh. But the peace didn’t last long.

From the kitchen came the unmistakable sound of a cereal box rustling and a spoon clinking against a bowl. Your eyes snapped open fully, and Steve stiffened beside you. You both sat up quickly, exchanging wide-eyed looks.

“Shit, I forgot he was here,” you whispered.

Steve groaned, dragging a hand over his face. You reached for the nearest shirt (which was his) and tugged it over your head as you got out of bed. When the two of you walked into the living room, Dustin was already sitting at the table in his pajamas, bowl of cereal in hand, and a smirk firmly in place.

“Hope you two slept well,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Real well.”

Steve let out a long sigh. “How long have you been up?”

Dustin shrugged. “Long enough to know the walls in this place are way too thin.”

You stopped mid-step, freezing as your face flushed with heat. You shot Steve a glare over your shoulder. He held up his hands in mock defense, mouthing sorry with a wince.

Dustin grinned wider. “I mean, I didn’t want to hear it, but once someone started moaning, it was kinda hard to ignore.”

Your jaw dropped. “Dustin!”

Steve looked horrified. “Dude, what the hell? You’re, like, twelve. You don’t talk about sex!”

“Um, I’m twenty!” Dustin shot back. “I’m in college. I know things.”

“You shouldn’t say them out loud!” Steve groaned, reaching for the coffee pot like he was suddenly aging ten years.

You crossed your arms and gave Steve a pointed look. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” He asked, eyes wide.

“You said I had to be quiet,” you hissed, face still burning. “And then proceeded to make that impossible.”

Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Wow. You guys really went for it, huh?”

Steve buried his face in his hands. “I hate everything.”

You sat down at the table, head in your hands. “Dustin, shut up.”

Dustin popped a spoonful of cereal into his mouth with a grin. “At least now I know why the whole apartment was shaking last night.”

“Okay, out!” Steve barked, pointing toward the door.

Dustin just laughed. “Relax. I’m not scarred or anything. Just…maybe get soundproof panels or something before you have guests staying over.”

You and Steve exchanged one last mortified glance before he collapsed into the chair beside you with a groan.

#smut #ish #i rlly like this op it was sweet and just a lil spicy. chefs kiss #mrh

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stevescheekcut · 3 months ago

Text

night moves (18+)

inspired by that slutty slutty shoot joe did for coup de main (that pic of him in the chair… you know the one)

contains: steve x reader; reader with a vagina and breasts; reader is referred to as ‘good girl’ etc several times through this fic; teasing!!!; oral (m receiving); cock worship; some scent kink; silly but also stern steve trying to teach u a little lesson about patience. also robin gets laid 🤍

steve looks good. this isn’t an unusual occurrence - he always looks good - but tonight’s outfit has you reeling.

he never wears black levis, but he’s shown up with a pair on tonight. tight enough to see his goddamn cock through, the curve of his ass emphasized. you’re dizzy over them, but the terracotta button-down that he’s wearing makes your thighs clench together. it’s unbuttoned enough to truly be considered slutty, and the sleeves are rolled up, pretty veins and hands on display. and he’s wearing a goddamn leather jacket, too. you didn’t even know he owned one of those.

“what’s this all about?” you ask, tugging at the soft leather.

“family heirloom,” he explains hesitantly. “why? is it weird?”

“no,” you say quickly. “you look incredible tonight.”

steve leans in a little, his sunglasses sliding down the straight slope of his nose. you can see his eyes, going from milk chocolate to dark chocolate. “you really think so?”

“know so,” you breathe, taking a step back, because you might kiss him stupid - or faint - if you don’t.

and it must be obvious that you’re reeling. steve’s arm cradles your waist tightly, keeping you close to him all night. this whole thing is new - being in public with him for the first time as a couple. you’re sweating, face perpetually hot, the scent of his fig cologne sticking to your skin.

and every time he faces you, you feel more and more ridiculous. his cock is practically shouting at you. all you want is to be out of this stupid bar, on your knees for him, his thick length stuffed into the back of your throat.

you take a deep breath to steady yourself and sip on your cocktail, to give the impression that you’re a normal person and not ridiculously horny.

“something wrong?” he asks, lips tickling your ear. you can hear the smug smile in his voice.

“you drive me crazy,” you say softly, voice just above a whisper.

you’re sure he can’t hear you over the loud music of the bar, but he must be a lip reader, because he smiles wide.

“you look good tonight too, y’know,” he says, his hand moving from your lower back to the back of your neck. he slides a finger under your sleeve, and fiddles with your bra strap. his breath in your ear makes you shiver. “can’t wait to get you alone.”

you turn to look at his pretty face now, his hair all tousled, his cheeks pink.

“we’ve been here long enough, don’t you think?” you murmur.

steve tuts. “eddie’s gonna think you’re rude if we miss his set.”

you bite the inside of your cheek. “there’s a bathroom.”

he shakes his head, beaming, finishing the last of his drink. “uh-uh. you’re a good girl. you can be patient for me, can’t you?”

you want to punch him. he does it to tease you, because he knows how much you like it when he talks to you like that. a little condescending, a little mean. you glare instead, now biting your tongue, irritated.

“i love it when you look at me like that,” he says, taking your empty glass and heading to the counter to get you another.

you can finally breathe, though you’re still suffocating. eddie’s band hasn’t even set up yet. and you don’t get why steve wants to stay to listen to music he doesn’t like for a guy he only quasi gets along with. robin’s here somewhere - and with jealousy, you realize she’s probably finger-banging her girlfriend in the restroom right now.

steve’s back at your side, still grinning, handing you another drink.

“got you the sweet kind,” he says, then leans in. “not sure if you should be drinking, though. afraid you’re gonna try to fuck me right here if you get drunk enough.”

his jawline is incredibly defined as his head leans back, another jack and coke at his lips. if you were stronger, you’d drag him outside, or at least into the men’s bathroom.

“keep it up and you won’t get fucked.”

steve scoffs, wraps his free hand around your waist and pulls you into his chest. “then what’ll you do, huh?” he asks quietly, his nose almost touching yours. “gonna touch yourself in my bathroom all alone?”

“maybe i won’t spend the night,” you say, voice wavering. you’re very unconvincing. “maybe i’ll go home and use a toy.”

he grins again. “you gonna suck your dildo before you ride it?”

your eyes widen at the debauchery. steve’s got a mouth on him, but he doesn’t typically use it outside of the bedroom.

“yeah,” he says, shit eating grin widening. “you’re droolin’, baby. wanna taste my cock so bad, yeah? wore these just for you. know how much you like seeing it.”

he grinds himself into your hip bone. you almost drop your goddamn glass.

“you think i don’t want to take you to my car and make your brain melt?” he continues. “i do, baby, but i’m patient. you gotta learn.”

your mouth is dry.

at your lack of response, steve’s shoulders drop. “too much?”

you shake your head quickly. “no,” you insist, “i like this version of you.”

he relaxes a bit more, presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “good girls get rewards,” he murmurs.

there’s a sudden bang! behind you. you whip around to see the drummer beginning to set up on the stage.

“we gotta stay after, too, y’know,” steve says, lips ghosting over your neck. “say congrats and all. maybe get some food.”

your head whips back around so you can glare harshly at him. “we are not going to dinner after this.”

he can’t stop grinning, his teeth gleaming in the low light. “don’t be selfish, honey, we don’t all have something to eat later.”

you sort of wonder what he would do if you fought back. would he chase you if you said you were leaving? would he give in?

you don’t have time to contemplate, as robin finally emerges, chugging a water with a red face. her girlfriend’s all blissed out, leaning on robin for support.

“gross,” steve says, stepping away from you. his body parting from yours makes you feel cold.

robin grins widely, cocking her head at him. “oh, so you hate gay people?”

they argue - steve can’t take a joke sometimes - but you block them out. you sip absentmindedly on your drink, watching as eddie finally emerges on stage to set up the amps and pedals.

“third stall in the girl’s bathroom,” robin’s partner says, nodding and giving you a thumbs up. “pretty cushy in there, if you guys need a space.”

“thanks,” you say weakly.

you’re tense when eddie’s band starts to play, finally, and the drinks aren’t helping. you’d like to relax like steve is now, a third drink in his hand.

what’s really infuriating is that steve has the audacity to nod his big head along to the music and act like he really cares about it, when you know his vibe is the eagles and queen, not this.

he finally looks at you, still smug. “not polite to stare.”

“not polite to tease.”

he scoffs again, throwing a hand out to gesture towards the stage. “what are you talkin’ about? i’m havin’ a great time.”

your eyes follow his strong biceps and you want to sink your teeth into the flesh and muscle desperately.

he opens his mouth to make a comment about it, but you reach into his glass to fish out the cherry that came with it. you stare him down as you bring it to your lips, your teeth sinking into the cherry instead of him.

he watches you, eyes darkening, hooded, his fingers flexing around the glass. tart juice spills down your chin and you make no attempts to clean it up.

“want the stem?” you ask, holding it up.

steve leans forward to wipe the sweetness with his thumb, then sucks it into his mouth.

you’re blown away. outperformed.

“you’re gonna get it,” he says lowly.

you force a smile, heart beating fast. “what i want?”

he laughs and leans back, eyes moving to the stage again. “you’ll see.”

there’s another half an hour after the performance where everyone shoots the shit in the ally behind the bar. you’re squirming the entire time while steve’s arm stays wrapped around your waist, holding you into him, trying to make you stop.

and when eddie asks if anyone is coming to the diner with the band, you brace yourself for steve to say yes.

instead, he yawns loudly and shakes his head. “we’re too tired, sorry.”

“you just hate me,” eddie says, waving him off.

“how’d you know?” steve says, then guides you to turn around, moving towards his car. “we’ll see you soon — vickie, drive safe, please.”

she gives him another big thumbs up and you try to remember her name for the next time you see her. you have bigger priorities right now, though, as steve walks silently beside you. your clit pulses between your thighs, the short walk nearly excruciating.

he gets the door for you - a gentleman, of course - and for a brief moment, as you sit, you’re at eye level with his dick.

steve doesn’t linger, though. he shuts the door and moves to his side. you stare at him, a little nervous to be alone after all that was said earlier.

“you,” he says, pointing a finger at you after turning the key, his eyes equally playful and serious, “have a lot to make up for tonight.”

steve spreads his legs wide, still clothed (with that jacket), hair tousled. he’s spread out in a chair at his place, the room lit dimly by a lamp in the corner. it makes you sleepy but you’re convinced his bulge has hypnotized you.

he looks at you like he’s disappointed. it’s all a rouse, of course. he’s doing all of this because he saw how hot it made you earlier, and he had told you as much before sitting down.

“strip,” he finally says.

you don’t hesitate, of course. you’ve been waiting to get your damn clothes off all night. like a palette cleanser, one of these nights plays softly in the background, spinning on the record player.

“underwear too?” you ask.

he hums. “keep ‘em on.”

you do as you’re told.

steve stares at you for what feels like forever, sort of squinting. “give me a spin, baby,” he says, spinning his finger.

you do, nice and slow, letting him look. look at what he’s missed out on all night, what he could have had in the bathroom or the ally or his car all night. when you’re back to facing him, he beckons you over.

“come here.”

you like him like this. you like him when he’s goofy and soft, too, but this is new and exciting.

you stand between his thighs and he moves his hands to your ass, gently cupping it. he’s gorgeous below you. his hands roam, hands squeezing almost a little too roughly, but never making you wince. you’re giddy about it, his eagerness showing through with every handful he takes of you.

“on your knees.”

you drop down so quickly it hurts, your knees throbbing, but you don’t complain.

steve leans forward to cup your cheek. “gotta teach you a thing or two about patience, don’t i?” he asks softly, eyes scanning your face and landing on your lips.

“mhm,” you agree.

“i’d tell you not to act like that again, but i really liked it,” he admits, smiling softly at you. “like knowing how much you need me.”

“i really do,” you breathe.

“i know.” he kisses your forehand gently. “so here’s the deal. i’ll let you have what you want, but there are two stipulations: you can’t touch yourself, and i’m going to draw this out as long as possible. how’s that sound?”

you try to be cute. “am i going to cum tonight, stevie?”

he hums. “no way, baby. this is all about patience, remember?”

you know how much he’s obsessed with pussy, so you don’t take his threat very seriously.

“no cheating,” he instructs. “no clenching your thighs or anything.”

you bite your lip. you’re still trying to be cutesy. “and what if i do?”

he grins and leans down to touch the tip of his nose against yours. “if you want my cock so bad, baby, you’d better play by the rules.”

he finally kisses you, soft and slow. it’s not heated like it usually is when you’re with him. it clicks that he’s taking his time, and you really wish he wouldn’t. not just because of your eagerness - it’s also two in the morning and your head hurts from all the heavy metal.

he pulls away from you slowly and leans back in his chair. “go ahead,” he says, a finger tapping his belt buckle. “slow.”

it takes three minutes to get his tight jeans down his thick thighs at a pace that he likes. you leave the briefs on. you‘ve already mapped out what you’re going to do.

there’s a sizeable stain of precum where the tip of his cock rests. you’d like to make a comment about it but you abstain, knowing he’d drag this out for longer.

“wait,” he says.

so you do.

one of his hands sneaks down to palm at his erection. his head falls back and he lets out a breathy moan as he touches himself. you don’t know where to look - his big hand on his cock, or his pretty face twisting softly with pleasure.

“maybe i should just jerk myself off, huh?” he rambles. “make you wait even more.”

you almost whimper.

“‘s okay,” he assures, “i’m not that mean.”

but he does keep touching himself while you stare at the stain of precum grow. you spread your legs far apart but you’re definitely still cheating, your cunt clenching and unclenching.

you’re just about ready to beg when he finally stops, moving his hand back to the armrests.

“slow,” he repeats, like you’re a dog, and you really don’t mind.

your hand replaces his. he’s hot to the touch, even through the cotton. your thumb swipes against his head and he groans softly above you. his pre transfers to your thumb and, just as he had done with the cherry juice, you suck it into your mouth.

“copy cat,” he breathes, pupils blown.

you smile up at him, then lean forward. you maintain eye contact with him until your lips reach his cock, and you mouth at him through his briefs.

“jesus,” he groans, hands gripping the chair.

you take your time with it like he told you to. kissing him through the fabric, getting a taste of him — really him. his musk is intoxicating, and you make him gasp like a prude when you inhale deeply.

“wanna worship it?” he breathes, hips bucking, his cock grinding into your cheek. “this what you wanted all night?”

you nod, mouthing at him more.

steve shakes his head, perhaps in disbelief. you haven’t been quite so needy before.

your spit mixes with his precum, the fabric sticking to his cock. he finally relents, gently ordering you to pull his underwear down.

his cock springs up, almost hitting his stomach. you pause, feeling hypnotized again, before pulling them down to meet with his jeans at his ankles.

his cock’s so pretty. pink at the tip, a pronounced vein running down the underside, and big enough to make your jaw ache.

you’re not thinking as you lean forward. steve’s hand stops you, his palm pressing against your forehead.

“thought you were learning.”

“i am,” you whisper.

he holds his palm out. “spit.”

he makes you watch as he jerks himself off, your spit helping his hand slide up and down the shaft. your thighs twitch towards each other as you stare at him, brows furrowed.

you want him so badly. want to climb up into his lap and kiss his pretty face stupid. he bites his lip, moans breathily sneaking out as he keeps stroking himself slowly. he concentrates on you, a strand of hair falling into his dark, hooded eyes.

you bite your tongue so hard it almost bleeds. your pussy works like it has a mind of its own, helplessly clenching, your clit aching horribly. you’re certain you’ll scream, one queuing up in your throat. he has about ten seconds before you throw a tantrum like a baby. he’s so beautiful that it makes you forget yourself.

“go on,” he says eventually, leaning back again.

you’re relieved, almost to the point of tears. you move a little closer and press soft kisses to the inside of his sensitive thighs. his cock kicks near your forehead as you move nearer and nearer. you let your tongue flick out against his skin, smiling when he sighs.

if you weren’t so impatient, you’d make him wait for it.

you move up, up, up, but not to where steve’s expecting you. instead, your lips place a gentle kiss to his sack.

he sort of sits up, brows furrowing hard. so you continue, your tongue laving over his balls gently.

“oh my god?”

it isn’t a protest, so you continue. you mouth at them, too, licking and sucking gently. one of his hands tangles itself in your hair and he moans loudly above you. it goes straight to your clit, of course, and at this point you’re once again near tears at the ache.

you lick your way up his balls and to the base of his shaft. you place a chaste kiss there before continuing upwards, licking a long stripe up to the head. you make sure to run your tongue along the aforementioned vein and he shivers.

his voice cuts the silence. “worship, baby.”

you kiss the head of his cock, the salt of his precum laying heavy on your tongue. you make out with it, using your tongue, doubling down every time steve groans. his hand stays in your hair and he gently moves you down to kiss the rest of him.

steve’s free hand grips the base of his cock and he pumps gently as your tongue flicks against him. after a long moment, he pulls you back, crowding your space again.

“can i say something?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

you watch his throat bob as he swallows hard. “i want to use your mouth.”

you gasp breathlessly, happily. “please, steve.”

so he stands, kicking off his jeans, keeping his grip tight in your hair. he pumps himself still, keeps you at eye level - again - with his leaking tip.

“hands on my thighs,” he says softly. “pinch me if you need me to stop, alright?”

you nod, hands resting where he’s instructed.

“i’ll go slow,” he promises. “still need to finish our lesson, right?”

you nod again.

he gently kicks your thighs apart with his feet. you hadn’t noticed how close they’d gotten to pulling together.

“my pretty girl,” he coos, leaning down, pulling your head up. he kisses you much more fervently this time, but shorter. “i’ll give you just what you want.”

#hits as always op #smut

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stevescheekcut · 3 months ago

Note

please could i request a smutty fic with “i like being close to you. you’re warm” & “is this okay?” from prompt list 1? maybe some soft, cozy, sexy time after a group bonfire on a cool summer night? 🫣🫣🫣 and maybe x curvy!reader?

anon i'm so sorry i hijacked your request so badly, its not smutty nor did i do too much with a curvy!reader, please forgiv..... what this does have is lots & lots of mutual pining fluff <3 getting together, gn!reader, 1.7k, sfw but beware this blog is 18+

in the firelight

The logs glow a bright orange, flames curling around them like hungry tongues. The low sound of crickets fill the trees around you, a chorus of the natural world, the soundscape of wilderness all around.

If you strain your ears, you can hear the soft sounds of the lake nearby, water lapping at the shore. Combined with the crackling of the fire and crickets, you can’t help but sink back in ease.

You’re at Steve’s lake house— well, his parents’ lake house. It’s a little down south from Hawkins, tucked away from civilisation, and decked out with the swankiest furniture set good money can buy.

It had been unused when you arrived, plastic covers still on.

“Mom bought before she found out about Dad’s next affair. Haven’t been down here since then, either of them.” Steve had quietly told you on the way in.

So, you’ve all got the honours of breaking in the new stuff — Eddie especially, who tore the plastic cover off the table with a rabid fervor. He then tussled with it, eventually launching it into Robin’s head as hard as he could. It had quickly dissolved into a vigorous game of tug of war until Steve warned them to knock it off.

But it means you’ve all pushed the beach loungers around the fire. Earlier, you had roasted all manners of things over it, enough snacks and sweets to count as dinner.

Now, you’re one of the few stragglers left gathered around it. It’s late, the sky dark.

There’s only three of you out here. To your left, Steve sits at the end of his own lounger, straddling it with his legs off either side.

He’s got a poker from inside the house in his hand and he’s bravely taken on the task of making sure the fire burns strong. He’s prone to poking it now and then, expression serious.

Watching him makes you laugh under your breath. It’s endearing, you think, the way he still doesn’t quite slip out of caretaker mode, even without the kids around.

Directly across the fire from you, Eddie sits in a much more relaxed way.

There’s a joint held loosely between his lips, still burning, and he’s gazing into the fire as if it holds the answers to life.

In fact, you wonder how long it’s been since he’s blinked.

A wind passes through the clearing, inspiring a shiver from you. The temperature is dropping as night falls, but you don’t quite want to go inside yet.

It’s a soft atmosphere outside. The smell of the fire is like an old memory and you’re enjoying your less than subtle glances you get to share with Steve, the way his eyes reflect the firelight as he smiles back at you.

It’s actually making you delusional enough to entertain the idea that your big fat crush on Steve might not be so severely one sided.

When you go inside, the bubble will pop. Sue you if you just wanted to prolong that a little longer.

You shiver again as another breeze blows through and Steve notices the motion. He frowns, brown knitting together.

“You cold?” He asks, hazel eyes concerned.

“A little,” You admit. You tuck your sweater closer around you and wonder if you should move closer to the fire.

Abruptly, Steve clears his throat loudly and jabs the poker into the fire, his head now facing the fire’s only other occupant. The harsh motion into the fire, sparks flying, seems to startle Eddie out of his stupor.

His lazed eyes drag over to Steve and then after a long moment, he seemed to blink in realisation because he springs to his feet.

“I take my leave.” He announces, voice still strained from the smoke.

He tumbles forward into a bow that has you concerned about his hair catching fire— but he straightens up before anything sets alight.

“And I bid thee birds o’ love goodnight,” He says, more pointedly this time.

Your eyebrows scrunch together at his words. Birds o’ love?

Steve, however, only jabs the fire again and Eddie disappears along the path up to the house.

“Should we be worried if he’s gonna make it back alright?”

You’re peering over your shoulder, watching the metalhead go. It’s not far to the house but there’s only lights right by the stairs. And he’s stoned to high heaven.

“Nah,” Steve’s voice is suddenly much closer, right beside you, and you jump as you turn back. You hadn't heard him move by he's sitting on the edge of your lounger now.

“Budge up, I’m keeping you warm.”

Bewilderment flounders through you, warm and fringed with nerves. For a moment, you just stare at him before something clicks and you sit up to shuffle to the side.

The loungers are big and roomy. However, evidently they are not designed for two people to lie side by side.

As Steve squeezes in, your body ends up pressed flush against his warm and toned one, thigh to thigh. He leans back easily but you’re still frozen a bit, apprehensive about your next move. If you lie back, you’ll be practically lying on Steve’s chest.

You’re mouth twists in your nerves.

Leaning back means leaning your weight up against him, nearly goddamn cuddling. Your twitchy gaze meets Steve as you look back at him — but he only smiles handsomely, beckoning you down with a tip of his head.

Christ almighty, you have such a crush on him.

You close your eyes momentarily and send a quick prayer to whoever’s listening—either grant you strength or some insane luck that gives you want you really, really want.

You lay down and melt into his side. Your cheek finds his shoulder, squishing against it, and your heart worms its way up your throat in nerves.

You hope he can’t feel how hard your heart is beating.

“Is this okay?” Steve asks, murmuring now he’s much closer. The smoke of the fire swirls with his cologne. He's warm like a furnace. “Not too close f’you?”

“I like being close to you,” You say without thinking.

A second later, you realise how betraying that might sound, body stiffening as a fluster rolls through you.

“'Cos you’re warm.” You tack on quickly, as if that’ll save it. You very purposefully keep your eyes on the fire, away from his prying gaze.

Fuck, fuck. That’s basically a confession. You’re basically cuddling, legs touched, your head touching on Steve’s shoulder and you just said that.

Steve gives a quiet laugh that rumbles his chest.

“That’s good.” He says quietly.

Then he inhales deeply, a breath you feel under your cheek. He releases in slowly, calmly, then swallows.

“And…” He’s turned his head towards you, your faces close. Something nudges at your jaw—his hand, sliding gently across the skin to cradle it.

“Is this okay?” He whispers. This close you can see individual eyelashes. A part of you quietly yearns.

You have no clue what’s happening.

You know what you think is happening — which is that Steve, handsome, caring, entirely out of your league Steve, might be about to kiss you.

“Yes,” you say, just in case you’re not dreaming the whole thing. “I, uh- you— what is happening right now?” You whisper, hardly daring to breath.

Your eyes roam Steve’s face fervently, searching for something, anything to explain this.

But there’s only an ardent fondness in his face, a softness in his gaze that’s directed at you.

Your heart reaches a concerning speed, pounding in your chest hard enough it must be bruising your ribs. The skin pressed against Steve's blazes warmer than any other part of you, your thigh against his, his hand resting on your face.

“What’s happening is,” Steve says softly. “I have been waiting for Munson to leave for twenty minutes, so I could come over here and,” He swallows, eyes dipping down to your lips momentarily. “hopefully… kiss you.”

You blink.

“Why?” You whisper.

You scrunch your eyes closed the minute you say it, scowling at yourself for potentially stepping on your own damn moment. Never mind if it was the burning question you had, never mind if Steve just wanted to kiss for the night.

You’d take it even if it wasn’t quite what you yearned for. You'd take anything he offered to you.

Steve laughs lightly and your eyes open. His eyes are still tracking over your face with an adoration you can’t quite believe.

“Why?” He echoes.

The hand on your face shifts, his thumb petting along your cheek gently. You see him swallow and realise with a spark that it’s because he’s nervous.

“Because I like you.”

It’s a whisper. None of that charm, just a genuineness that threatens to make your heart explode. His eyes shift across your face, as if committing it to detail in the shadow of the firelight. “And I have for awhile now.”

Your lips wobble a bit before they form their smile, catching up before your mind can grapple with the idea truly. He likes you. Steve likes you.

“Okay,” you say back stupidly.

Fuck. You’re really crushing this whole interaction, aren’t you?

But Steve only laughs again, his thumb tracing another line over your cheek. “Okay? This is okay?”

Heart bursting, you nod against his shoulder, already tilting your face up towards his. You hope you don’t look too eager—then remember it really doesn’t matter. Steve likes you.

Enough to come sit by you, to lean in first, to take the leap and say the words even though it's scary.

Leaning in, his nose brushes you, just the softest graze. It pulls a sharp breath from your lungs in nerves, but Steve only pauses there. Lets you sit in the moment, then melt into it.

The fire crackles and pops loudly and you hear the soft hooting of an owl in the trees. And only when you relax—when you tilt your head up and close the gap first, lips ghosting across his—does he kiss you.

Steve's mouth presses against yours softly, the shape of his lips fitting like a daydream, and when your eyes flutter close, you remember only the hazel of his eyes.

(if u wanted, i would maybe do a smutty part two if people were interested?!)

#jay…..you (and your steve) always do things to my heart #reader being in awe of him wanting her is so hashtag relatable

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stevescheekcut · 3 months ago

Note

i love every single one of the summer smut prompts and am manifesting them for everyone this summer but "utilisation of the ties on the sides of bikini bottoms" for stevie? 🥰

i wish that for everyone also!! okie this became filthy so quickly lol but i also hope everyone looked at this prompt and went 🙂‍↕️ steve's a munch. afab!reader, 1.8k, overstim, a very unsanitary use of a kitchen counter, nearly mean!steve, mdni this entire blog is 18+

unravelled

"You know," Steve murmurs in your ear, his breath hot across your skin. "This is normally much harder."

The kitchen counter digs into your lower back lightly, the stone cool compared to your flushed skin. Steve's crowded against you, his hands wandering, with a particular interest in the sides of your bikini. He's close enough you can feel the scratch of the hair of his chest, feel the heat of his body.

He kisses your neck. You try to hold even a modicum of power here.

"Is that—" Your sharp inhale interrupts, due to the hickey Steve's beginning to paint onto the sensitive skin of your neck. "—some, like, stupid dick joke?"

You feel, rather than hear, Steve's responding laughter. It's light and immediately buried beneath another scrape of his teeth along your neck. You gasp softly, entirely unsure what to do with your hands.

It's not as if you're surprised you ended up here — you and Steve cooling off in the pool, with minimal fabric between you, is hardly a difficult equation.

It's more the here, the now.

You're still in the kitchen for christ's sake—and yet no part of you wants to tell Steve to wait so you can move it upstairs just yet. You're more eager than you'd expect to see where this goes.

"No," Steve says raspily, dragging his mouth off you.

You wonder if its because he knows you can't pay attention to anything else when he's kissing you — because you become rapidly aware of the way his fingers have slipped beneath the ties of your bikini.

"'M talkin' about these," He says, pulling back. His lips are pinker than ever, his eyes darkened with desire. He smirks. "They make for such..."

He toys with the string on one side, giving it the lightest tug. Your stomach twists up, in excitement though you realise, as it dawns on you that might not even make it up to the bedroom.

"Easy access." He finishes, releasing his hold on the string and instead letting the tie ping back against your skin with a snap!

Your breath shudders out of you, nipples peaking beneath your bikini, and suddenly you're absolutely sure you'll do anything to have this man ravish you. Steve must see it, the heaviness that sinks into your gaze, because he's grinning all of sudden.

His hands on your hips shift back, palming over your ass, before he mumbles, jump, and you're swiftly lifted up and onto the counter. The marble is still cool, though not enough to explain the goosebumps prickling along your body. That's from Steve entirely.

His hands bracket your body as he finds space between your parted knees, leaning in and kissing you hotly.

Your pulse rabbits in your chest, your hands finding their place either side of his face, pulling him closer. You're both on the same page now, you can tell.

Still, Steve still asks. "You okay?

He's toying with your bikini strings again as he does, evidently what he's asking about. You nod, a little mmhm coming from your throat because you're a little scared about how debauched you might sound before he's even started.

Steve grins, hazel eyes shining with adoration as he peers over your face. "Good. Just want my baby to have fun."

It's gooey enough to make you roll your eyes, just so you don't have to deal with how sappy it makes you feel. Still, with your hands cupping his face, you urge him closer.

"So long as you're also having fun, yeah?" You check, stealing a kiss from his lips. Your noses touch and Steve nuzzles in closer, another kiss shared.

"Fun? Absolutely." He sounds so sure, so you don't stop him when he pulls back. He glances down to where his long fingers are still playing with your bikini strings, then back up at you, a hunger to the lust in his eyes.

"See?" He says nonchalantly. "It's like you're gift-wrapped for me, honey."

Then he tugs on the string, slow and continuous, until the knots unravels, undoing your bikini. You watch with bated breath as he does the same on the other side til the fabric sits loose and free. The sticky evidence of how riled up he's got you just inches away.

Your cunt pulses hotly, heartbeat too strong. You need him to do something, like, yesterday.

Steve moves slowly, as if drawing out the moment for himself, dragging a finger down the crease of your thigh. It pushes the fabric with it, slowly revealing you to him. There's a string of slick still connected and you can hear the soft groan Steve makes the moment he sees it.

"Oh, honey," He coos. "S'cute how excited you are."

Some biting response rises on your tongue, but then his hand is moving again — his thumb this time, rubbing along the lip before he nudges your folds open more.

Something flames inside you, feeling oddly inspected, as his other meandering hand sinks lower and lower. You can feel your cunt clench around nothing, urging him in, but Steve only makes another soft groan. His finger traces just below your leaking hole, finally picking up some slickness.

Your patience runs out. "Steve," You say pitifully. "You said fun."

He grins, gaze switching up to your face, already well aware of your impatience from the twitch in your hips.

"Okay, baby, we will," He promises. Then he nods to behind you, "Lay back if you want."

Then he sinks to his knees, bringing his face aligned with your hot cunt. Your tummy warms, your hole clenching around nothing again, as what he wants dawns on you. Your hands stumble back, letting you lean back a bit, but your eyes stay glued to your boyfriend.

The air is thick with heat. Cicadas sing in the background, through the open door. You can't hear anything but your heartbeat.

Steve looks like a goddamn angel, on his knees between your legs, and something keens inside you when he uses both thumbs to spread your silky folds — then he leans forward and begins to lap softly at your clit.

A shuddering gasp is pulled from your mouth instantly. "Oh fuck," You whisper, already fighting against closing your eyes.

A heady warm pleasure beginning to drizzle through your core. Steve's tongue is warm, the way he's spread you giving him access to a thousand more nerves. You fall into heaving breaths as you try to keep up.

Steve licks, tongue flat, tortuously slow against you, gentle in a way that makes it hard to chase. It's a buzz of pleasure you can sink into, but it's almost... teasing.

"Steve," You whine his name again.

Steve moans in response, the hum of it against your clit friction enough to make you squeak. Your elbow buckles and you let yourself lower down to rest on them—it'll hurt like hell later but for now, nothing matter more than Steve's mouth between your thighs.

One of his hands shifts, the thumb moving from where its holding you open, down, down, til it rests near your entrance.

You clench unwittingly, hips tilting up, trying to clue him in. A whimper slips through your teeth — and you get another moan against your cunt in response.

But if Steve gets your hint, he doesn't show it. His thumb only moves to rest over your hole, beginning to draw slick circles, taunting you wickedly.

The combination of his lapping tongue and feathersoft touches are maddening. Your stomach burns hotly. Your hips twitch again. Your chest heaves, desperate noises warbling from your mouth. You're burning up from inside, tortured from the waves of soft pleasure driving into you.

"Steve," You whimper his name again, suddenly desperate for more. You want his fingers sinking in you, crooking and finding that spot he knows so well. You want the filthy suckle of his mouth, twisting his tongue over your clit in a way he's done before.

All your pleas come out in a stilted, jagged moan, "St— Steve, please, oh fuck, please—"

"Sh, sh," Pleasure tapers off as Steve pulls back to hush you, the thumb over your entrance still circling, pressing ever so slightly from time to time. "It's fun, isn't it? You're having fun?"

You're nodding quickly, not wanting him to stop, and he resumes his lapping, his other thumb shifting to ensure the hood of your clit is lifted.

You moan, languid and pitiful, as the same flow of pleasure begins — a drip, drip, drip, that feels amazing but not enough to satisfy.

You're not sure how long it goes on like that.

The stroke of Steve's tongue, relaxed and slow, continues whilst you squirm on the counter, leaking wetness onto his teasing thumb. It feels like hours, though you know it's realistically closer to barely twenty minutes.

All you know is at some point, the drip fills the bucket.

It'd been building so long you hadn't noticed — that at some point your pleasure, agitated enough in small amounts, over and over, was still working towards going on the edge.

You tense, shallow pants suddenly heaving your chest, your head thrown back and your back arching. Steve is the same, keeping his soft licks and gentle touches, and you writhe as the blazing feeling mounts.

"Steve," You mewl pathetically.

The next lick will be the one that does it. It has to be. You can't keep building.

The pleasure singes in your gut, Steve's tongue pushing over your clit, and it's not enough.

"S-Steve, please, pleasepleaseplease," Your voice sounds wrecked. "Just— c'mon- I'm— please—" You sound truly desperate.

Steve moans against you, low and hot, and he finally, finally pushes his thumb forward, sinking into the slickness easily. Clenching around it immediately, a flame zips up your spine, sending the bucket tipping over completely.

Pleasure melts over you, hot and fiery, and you make a high-pitched gaspy noise that Steve will undoubtedly call adorable later. For now, he works you through the orgasm dotingly.

Using one hand, he keeps your hips pinned to the counter while the other toys with your fluttering, gushing hole. You moan pathetically, hips working furiously against Steve's hold futilely.

His tongue keeps the same soft laps the whole time.

Eventually, you have to tap his forehead to get him to stop, when the pleasure fades off and you begin to near overstimulation.

Steve pulls back slowly, almost reluctantly. His face is pink, his lips sheened in your arousal, pulled in a smirk.

"Fun, right?" He asks. His voice is gravelly from underuse and you swallow back the desire it sends through you. You're still panting, still trying to catch your breath. You nod, knowing Steve wants the feedback, wants to know he's done well.

"Why stop then? Don't you wanna keep having fun?"

Your eyes snap back to him, focused now, as you realise no that is not what Steve was asking for.

You watch as his head lowers back down, then he slowly resumes the kitten-licks to you clit. His hungry eyes stay fixed on yours, taking in every twitch of your overstimulated body with a soft groan.

You realise, pleasure bleeding in through the overstimulation, that you'll let him do it over again.

You take his advice this time and lie all the way back.

come join the celebration <3

#screams……#i need him biblically #smut

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stevescheekcut · 3 months ago

Text

Secret Kisses

Steve Harrington X Fem!Henderson!Reader

Summary : You and Steve are secretly dating, here are 3 times you were almost caught and the 1 time you were.

Word Count : 1.2k

Warnings : Not proofread, 3am writing, swears, pet names, FLUFFY, kisses, suggestive at parts, fem reader, no use of Y/N, Steve and reader just want to make out lol.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

- First time : Driving you home and nobody’s in

You’d been hanging out at Eddies trailer, watching some horror movies and smoking a bit with your friends.

Giving the metal head a hug and waving goodbye Steve drove you and Robin home.

“See you guy’s tomorrow,” she said, kissing your cheek from the backseat and climbing out.

“Let’s get you home,” Steve smiled, taking your hand in his. “Thank you for driving me.”

“Couldn’t leave my girl stranded could I? Or worse, Eddie could’ve drove you home in his death trap!”

“Eddie can drive,” you laughed.

“Sure, doesn’t mean the vans safe.”

“You worry too much,” you sighed, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

“Just want you to be safe.” The drive was quick and quiet, one of your favourite tapes of Steve’s playing. Steve pulled up to your house, no lights on inside.

“Tonight was fun,” you spoke, smiling.

“It was, we do need a proper date night though. Maybe the movies?” he asked.

“That sounds good, I’ll trust your taste in movies.” He leaned over the console to kiss you, leaning in softly.

You lips almost touched when you heard a foggy voice, “Are you coming in or not?” Dustin.

Pulling away from Steve you sighed, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Y-yeah, goodnight.”

“Night,” you smiled, climbing out the car and headed over to your brother.

“Have you been smoking?!” he exclaimed.

“Shut up!” you slammed your hand over his mouth, shoving him in the house. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” Waving at Steve before heading in yourself.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

- Second time : Movie dates, sat in the dark, perfect right?

Sat in the movie theatre side by side, fingers linked, waiting for the lights to dim. You’d decided to see The Breakfast Club, after Nancy had said it was really good.

“You’re going to run out of popcorn and the movie hasn’t even started yet,” you chuckled at Steve. “It’s good!” he defended.

“Lies, but either way you’ll be grumpy 15 minutes in because you have nothing to snack on.”

“That’s why I got you snacks my love.”

“What so you can steal them?”

“Exactly that.”

“And what if I said no?”

“Well I’m sure I could persuade you..”

“Oh yeah?” He leaned closer to you, lips touching, “Yeah.” He softly pressed his lips to yours when familiar voices came.

“Okay so G6 and G7 El,” Max Mayfield spoke. “Shit,” Steve whined. The seats right in front of you. “Shit,” you repeated.

Walking down to their seats El spotted you, smiling, “Hi guys!”

“Hey,” you smiled back, nudging Steve.

“Hi,” he let out a pained grin.

“Just you two?” Max asked.

“Oh yeah, had to drag Steve with me. Nobody else would come with,” you shrugged.

“Hm, seems like Robins type of film. Eddie thought … not so much,” the redhead hummed. “Yeah exactly.”

“Should have come with us,” El said softly.

“If I’d have know you wanted to see it I would’ve, could’ve made a girls night out of it,” you smiled at her. Always having had a special place in your heart for that girl.

The lights dimmed, “Well we’ll see you after the movie,” Steve said. The pair sat down facing forward. “Guess we can’t make out now,” he sighed.

“You’re literally a horny teen.”

“Well I’m a teen and you’re hot so … I’m always horny.”

“Shush,” you laughed, punching him lightly.

“Maybe you can stay at my place?”

“Hm, if you’re lucky.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

- Third time : Lunch breaks aren’t easy either.

It was Steve’s lunch break, just him on today as it was a slow Monday. He shut the door and turned the sign to close, smiling at you who’d brought him food.

Pushing you into the back room, hands on your waist, your own tangling in his hair. Lipgloss transferring onto his own lips, “Stevie,” you giggled into his mouth.

“Missed you … so much,” he spoke between kisses. “Saw me yesterday.”

“Not enough!” Pulling you as close as he could, your legs wrapped around his waist and he lifted you into a filing cabinet.

“So. Fucking. Perfect,” he kissed and kissed and kissed. His hands played with the bottom of your skirt, pulling away. Lips swollen and hair messy.

“We’ve got 20 minutes Stevie.”

“That’s plenty of time to do what I need to do to you,” he smirked, lowering himself.

The bell on the door jingled, “Steve!”

“I’m gonna kill your brother.”

“Oh I’ll help.” Tidying himself up he left the back room, you jumping down from the cabinet.

“Henderson, thought you were smart enough to know what the word closed means.”

“Ha you’re real funny. I was just wondering if you’ve seen my sister?”

Steve’s heart went to his throat and you panicked trying to keep your breathing quiet. “Nope, why?”

“Well I saw her car outside and I thought maybe we could head home together,” he explained, “She might be getting some groceries though.”

“Mhm, maybe. If she stops by I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.”

“Great, thanks man.” You heard the bell ring again, signalling his exit.

Walking out of the back room you sighed. “Your brothers looking for you,” he teased.

“Oh you don’t say?” Kissing the boys cheek, “I should probably go.”

He whined, “Steve if he catches us-“

“I know I know. Okay go, but next time something like that happens I’m not stopping.”

“I’ll take your word for that.” Pecking his mouth you headed out the door to find you shit head of a brother.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

- The time you’re found out

You heard soft knock on your window. Not wanting to turn the light on in fear your headache would get worse, you walked over.

Pulling back the curtains, you saw a familiar face. You pulled up the window and stepped back, “What are you doing here?” you asked.

Steve climbed in (fell in) to your room, “Robin told me you weren’t very well, couldn’t really call cause you know,” he motioned to the door.

“Thought I’d come check on my girl, brought you some gatorade and snacks.”

“You, Steve Harrington, are the sweetest boy I’ve ever met.” Pecking his nose, you walked back to your bed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Migraine.”

“Oh baby I’m sorry. Have you taken anything?”

“Took some more tablets not too long ago, they should kick in soon.”

He sat down next to you, stoking hair gently. “Do you want me to go, leave you in peace?”

“Could you stay?”

“Course. No place I’d rather be.”

Taking off his shoes, jacket and jeans he climbed in beside you. “Come lay on me baby,” he whispered. Resting your head on his chest, you hummed, his warmth was so nice.

Running his fingers up and down your back you were quickly lulled to sleep.

Stirring awake to a knocking sound, “Yeah?” you said voice croaking, thick with sleep. Steve also woke up, giving you a sleepy smile.

“Mom said do you want breakfast, she’s made waffles,” Dustin spoke.

“Oh yeah sure, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Does Steve want any?” He asked through the door.

You looked at the boy, both of you wide eyed. “Hello? Does he want any?” your brother repeated.

“Oh um sure if she’s got any spare,” Steve said. Hearing you brother grumble as he walked away, you put your head back on his chest.

“Well he knows.”

“Yeah.”

“I can do this now then,” Steve smirked, kissing you square on the mouth.

“Hm, yes Mr Harrington you can.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A/N : I wanted to do some fics with other characters soon, they don’t have to just be Stranger Things characters, I’m part of many many fandoms. So if there’s any other characters you’d like to see, let me know! 🤍

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

#henderson

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