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longlivefanfic-net · 2 years

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Mommy's Home (Steve Harrington/reader)

Content: Hurt/comfort, Steve Harrington has bad parents, Mommy kink, breeding kink, smut (p in v), praise kink, sub!Steve Harrington, a smidge of begging, Steve Harrington/afab reader

Word count: 6.1k

A/N: Requested by Max anon--I adored this request SO MUCH. oh my god. Also, sorry it kind of...turned into a hurt/comfort fic. It was just supposed to be horny but I can't not make being with Steve a little emotional. N E WAY! I hope I did your request justice, max <3

Anyone feel free to send me requests/prompts! I need to write and I have no ideas!

You clench your fingers in your lap, nervously running the pad of your thumb across your hands in the silence. Steve was sitting next to you, one hand gripping the underside of the steering wheel tightly; his other arm was leaning against the car door, his elbow propped up so that he could run his long fingers through his hair. He sighed, again, and you pressed your lips into a tight line, eyes on the dark road he was driving down.

You had screwed up tonight. Screwed up bad. It was one of the rare times Steve’s parents were actually in town, actually staying longer than the few days it would take before his father would get assigned his next trip, and he had begged you to come to their dinner with him.

“Please?” He had whined, his lips leaving a trail of goosebumps up the back of your neck. He had pressed himself to your back as you filled your mug with coffee in the small apartment kitchen, eyes bleary and hips aching from the night before. “No way,” you had snickered. You knew, at some point, you’d have to meet his parents, but the longer you could go without it, the better.

“Come on, baby,” Steve had whispered, pressing his lips right to the soft shell of your ear. You had tilted your neck, your eyes slipping closed as your hand slid up his neck, tangling behind you in his hair. His hand had ghosted down from your waist, fingers slipping under the waistband of your underwear. “I don’t want to be alone with them if I don’t have to be. I’d rather be with you,” he murmured.

That was all it took. You were a pushover when it came to Steve, too quick to cave to every request. All Steve had to say was “I want to see you,” or “Do you really have to go now?” and you’d give him whatever he asked for. As hesitant as you were to finally meet the Harrington’s, Steve had asked you so nicely (and rewarded you even better once you agreed); that’s why you felt so guilty now.

The dinner had been…alright. Steve’s mother had hauled you into the kitchen almost immediately, insisting that “the girls” would cook while “the men” talked. What that had really meant, apparently, was that she would drink so many martinis she could barely walk to the dining room table while Steve and his father sipped scotch in silence. The actual meal had been fine–although you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from narrowing your eyes when Mrs. Harrington had called the meal “Steve’s favorite”--and you had been able to make polite conversation, keeping the discussion from lulling too often or for too long by pretending to be interested in Mr. Harrington’s work.

Dessert, however, was when it all went to hell. Mrs. Harrington was carrying out the tiramisu she had transferred from the Enzo’s delivery box to a serving dish, and you heard heated conversation as the door swung shut. You bit your lip, listening intently as you waited for the coffeepot to stop dripping, catching snatches of conversation as voices rose.

When you finally walked back into the dining room, glass coffee pot in hand, you almost froze. Steve’s eyes were closed, his head tilted down towards the table. His father’s face was pink high in the cheeks, anger burning behind his eyes as spit flew from his mouth. He wasn’t shouting, not quite, but the tone he was speaking to Steve in raised the hairs on the back of your neck, set your heartrate up a notch.

“You need to get your life together, Steven,” he was saying. “You can not keep working these–these little, insignificant jobs, like you’re some insignificant man. You need to come work for me. You’ll be my assistant, and it’ll be hard, but you’ll travel with me and your mother and you’ll make a decent name for yourself. You’re going to end up like the people in this town–” Mr. Harrington rolled his eyes, “The men I work with think you’re the only failure to our family name. Everything I touch turned to gold, except you. If you don’t–”

“Stop it,” you had hissed, the words sliding out from between your clenched teeth. Steve’s head had shot up, his eyes wide as he looked at you.

“Excuse me?” His father had said, a look of mirth on his face as his eyebrows slid together. “I think you’d do better to keep your mouth shut, girl.”

The coffee pot in your hands had started to shake, your hands vibrating as anger coursed through your veins. “He is not ‘insignificant,’” you had spit, eyes narrowing as your lip pulled back from your teeth. “No one in this town gives a damn about your family name, but they know your son is a good man.”

Mr. Harrington scoffed, waving a hand towards you as he looked back at Steve. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Steven,” he said, and you let yourself look at Steve. He was watching you, eyes wide and jaw slack. “People in this town–people like her–aren’t the kind of people you should be spending time with. Sure, you can keep your bed warm with whatever kind of slut you want, but–”

“That’s enough,” Steve said, his voice a whisper. You blinked, suddenly, pushing back the wetness that was threatening to flood your eyes as Steve stared at you. “That’s enough,” he repeated as his father continued to talk like he hadn’t heard him, and Steve stood up, pushing his chair back from the table so suddenly it hit the floor.

“Steven,” his mother admonished. He shook his head, not taking his eyes off you long enough to even acknowledge that she had spoken to him. “We’re leaving,” Steve said.

“What?” His mother asked. “But–there’s dessert. Stevie, your favorite–” He strode across the room to you, taking the coffee pot out of your hands and setting it down on the table with a thud. “Leaving now,” he said again, so quietly you could barely make it out as he stood right beside you. He took your hands in one of his, tugging you slightly behind him as he barrelled to the front door, a bullet that had been fired from the barrel of a gun without regard for where it was aimed.

He had opened the passenger door of his car, helped you tuck yourself away into the seat before closing the door and crossing to the driver’s side. His mother had appeared at the window, begging the two of you to come back inside and talk, but he had simply put the car into drive, eyes unflinching.

Neither of you had said a single word the entire drive back to your apartment. The radio was off, leaving no sound to stop the replaying loop of what you had said to Steve’s father. Next to you, Steve sighed (for the fourth time since you had gotten in the car) and you flinched, slightly. You took a deep breath, trying not to notice as your lungs shuddered.

This was the end. You were sure of it. Steve had wanted, had needed, you to come to dinner with his parents tonight; he had needed you to be there with him, offer him some comfort. You were supposed to sit next to him, squeeze his hand under the table, give him a gentle smile–not pick a fight with his father. You had broken Steve’s trust, had made an ass of yourself in front of his parents; worse, you weren’t even sure you had spoken for anyone but yourself.

It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t care if Steve’s parents thought you were some Hawkins bimbo, some stupid slut who would warm his bed until the “real” thing came along, but you couldn’t stomach the idea of him leaving. His dad wanted him to go with him–wanted to take him on those business trips that rarely brought him back home. They could talk however they wanted to about Hawkins and the people who lived there, but the thought of Steve disappearing, not even seeing him for fleeting moments in the grocery store or at basketball games, made you sick.

The car glided to a smooth stop, Steve putting it into park before getting out, coming around to your side, and opening the door. You got out of the car, following behind him as he walked to the door; your hand was cold, lonely without Steve’s fingers between yours, and you tried not to think about the conversation you were sure was going to happen once you got behind closed doors.

You could hear his keys jingling, the thick metal of the key to the apartment door sliding in, the lock thudding back out of its slot before the door fell open. Steve stood back, angling himself to the side so you could pass and walk in front of him into your shared home. Your home, you thought, and the words stopped you in your tracks, frozen in the entryway. It’s your home, and it’s Steve’s home, but really your home was Steve, and you knew, deep in your bones, that he was about to leave you, about to take your home away before he packed his bags and left, went to work with his father and find someone his parent’s would be proud of him for loving.

You kicked your shoes off as you heard the door close behind you, heard Steve’s steps come closer in the dark apartment. He didn’t say a word–you didn’t either–and when he pressed the broad planes of his chest against your back, his forearms wrapping over your hips to pull you tightly against him, you felt your eyes widen, your lips pop open in surprise. “Steve?” You whispered.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he spun you around, bringing the two of you face to face. “Steve,” you whispered again, face registering shock as you saw the glint in his eyes, the slight curl to his lips. “Steve, I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have–”

“Shh,” he whispered, shaking his head slowly. His eyes moved up and down your body, lingering over your throat, the way the dress you had bought for tonight hugged your hips, the skin of your thighs exposed by the skirt. He looked at you like it was the last time he was ever going to look at you, and it made your throat close up suddenly.

“Steve, I’m sorry, please, I didn’t mean to, I just–”

“Babygirl,” he said, his voice suddenly serious. “Please stop talking.” Your lips came together in surprise, your head pulling back slightly. This wasn’t like him, this tone–even though he was begging, it sounded strange and foreign on his lips like this.

“Steve–” you tried, one last time, desperate to make your case, to plead for your boyfriend to understand that you’d do better in the future if he just gave you a chance. His long fingers came up, suddenly, wrapping around your chin; he held your jaw tightly, and you felt tears spring to your eyes.

“Stop trying to apologize, sweetheart,” Steve whispered, leaning into your throat so the words danced over your skin. “I’m the one who should apologize.” His mouth opened, slightly, letting his tongue ghost around the small spot of skin he was pressing his face into. “I didn’t–I shouldn’t have asked you to come with me tonight. I’m sorry. But…sweetheart…” You waited, breath tight in your throat for his next words.

“You–fuck, babygirl, that was–God, you’re just so hot.” You felt your eyebrows come together over your eyes, your jaw tightening against his fingers. His lips pressed into the side of your throat, hot and aggressive as you gasped at the touch.

You stepped back, out of Steve’s hands, and he froze. “What? What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes hazy with desire as he stared at you in the darkness. When he caught the glimmering tear tracks on your face, heard the shaking breath that pressed out of your chest, he came towards you quickly, hands rising to grasp your face between them. “Baby, baby,” he whined, eyes widening as he tilted his head, hair falling to the side, “What’s the matter?” His fingers stroked the side of your face, wiping away the dampness there. “Talk to me, please.”

“I thought–” You started, eyes slipping closed as you took in a too-quick breath. “I thought you were going to–to break up with me. I thought you were going to go with your dad, and you were going to–”

“Fuck no,” Steve hisses, shaking his head rapidly. “No. No way, sweetheart. First of all,” he said, thumbs stroking your cheekbones, “I’m not leaving you. Second of all, my dad–” Steve let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “He’s wrong. I’ve always known he was wrong about most things, but I didn’t know until I heard him talking about you how fucking wrong he was.” Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes wide as you stared at Steve. His eyes fell, gentle, across your face as he watched your expression change. “I didn’t–” he started, pausing to clear his throat. “I didn’t know he was wrong about me either. Until I heard you say it.”

Your lips fall open, your eyes narrowing as you stare at him. At Steve. The kindest, gentlest man you’ve ever met, the man who was always giving Dustin and Mike rides to the arcade, the man who never missed a single one of Lucas’ home games, who took Max out to dinner on Friday nights because he wasn’t sure if her mom would remember to leave anything in the fridge for her. There was no way he could believe the things his father had said about him–

“Steve,” you whisper, your voice crackling in the light slanting through the windows, over the darkness between your two bodies. “He–You’re not–”

The words don’t have a chance to fall from your lips. Steve is too quick, too fast to duck his head and press his mouth against yours, his perfectly curved lips pressing against yours with need. His face slides up, slightly, tilting your head back to keep your lips together. Steve’s jaw loosens slightly, his mouth opening so that his tongue can press against the tight seal of your lips. When his tongue slips into your mouth, tasting you like he’s been desperate for this moment, you whimper into him, rewarded by a soft grunt reverberating in the fingers you have pressed to his chest.

Your body tightens, heat immediately flooding your core as his long fingers slip around your waist, gripping to press his fingerprints into your curves. Your hands come up to his chest, pushing against his muscles just hard enough to break the kiss. Steve lets out a confused sound, his eyes still closed as your faces part. “Bedroom,” you whisper, and he opens his eyes long enough for you to see a wicked glint in his wide eyes.

Before you can question him, tilting your head slightly with the beginning of “What’s that look for?” playing on your lips, Steve’s hands snake along your back; one hand comes to your low back, the other under your thighs, and you’re momentarily weightless as he knocks you off of your feet. Steve pulls you against him, cradling you against his chest like a bride crossing a threshold, and your breath catches in your throat before bursting out in a giggle. You tilt your head back with the laugh, bringing your hands up to wrap around Steve’s neck as he carries you down the hall.

In the bedroom, he tosses you onto your shared sleeping space. Your body bounces on the plush mattress, the cloud-soft bedspread the two of you had picked out together under your hands as you push yourself up to sitting. Steve undoes the top button of his dress shirt, the green one you had insisted on because it matches the tiny line of color around his pupils before they turn brown, and pulls it by the collar over his head. He tosses it to the floor, fingers immediately going to the button of his pants. “C’mere,” you say, voice thick with the desire flooding your veins.

Steve takes a step towards you, a grin starting to turn up the edges of his lips as he tilts his head, and your hands replace his on his pants. Quickly, you push the fabric to the floor, leaving him exposed in front of you. Steve’s wide hands find your thighs as he leans forward over you, pushing the fabric of your dress up, up, up as his fingers skim your skin. He pulls the dress over your head, tossing it behind him as you fall to the bed and he climbs over you.

Steve presses his lips against yours again, finding them already open as you moan into his mouth. Your hands slide up his muscled back, coming to knot in the hair at the nape of his neck. When you pull, slightly, he whimpers, letting your hands tilt his face up so that his damp lips slide up your face. “On your back,” you whisper, and Steve is quick to obey, throwing himself down beside you as you sit up. You sling a leg over his waist, settling yourself over his hips as you press against him. Steve’s hands coast over your thighs, your hips, your waist, coming to rest at the band of your bra before he quickly unclasps it, pulling the straps from your shoulders. When your skin is exposed, nipples tightening in the chill air of the room, Steve smirks at you–a hint of King Steve present tonight–before he tosses your bra over your shoulder.

His hands are warm, rough as they come to your exposed skin, gripping and kneading against your sensitive breasts. His thumbs glide over your nipples, raising them, before he grasps them between his fingers, twisting the tender skin as you gasp. Your eyes slide shut of their own volition, your head tilting back as you try to suppress a moan. “Harrington,” you whisper, your hands resting on his chest. You can feel your core throbbing, absolutely aching already with how badly you need him, how badly you need Steve to reassure you that he’s still here, that he’s not leaving, and the wetness of your underwear has to be noticeable to him by now.

You grind your hips, slightly, over his, and are rewarded with a soft groan from beneath you. Desperate to hear him again, your fingers tighten over Steve’s chest, fingertips burying into the dark hair there as your nails press into his skin. He whimpers, a soft sound that breaks free from his lips as his head presses backwards into the mattress under him, and you feel your face break into a grin. His erection is pressing into you, under you, as you grind your hips against him again, his exposed member pressing into your clothed heat. “Please,” he whispers, and you sigh at the sound. “Please, babygirl, I–come on. Please.”

You tilt your head to look at him beneath you, batting your eyelashes innocently. He groans as you cast a faux innocence over your face, uncomfortably aware of the swelling in between his bare thighs. You lean down, pressing your torso to his before you slide your mouth over his warm skin; you mouth at his collarbone, lips growing wet with your own spit as they slip down, down over his large chest muscles, brushing against the dark hair there. Your mouth, slippery and spit soaked, covers his nipple, pulling it in between your teeth. You nip, eliciting a yelp from the chest under you, and pull back, a satisfied grin on your face.

As you sit back, Steve’s eyes watch you carefully. His amber eyes grow wide as you dip your hand between where your bodies press together, throbbing skin against throbbing skin. You wrap your fingers around his length and navigate him to the space between your thighs, using your fingers to push your underwear aside. You raise your hips, positioning him between your damp folds, before you slide down over him; he moans, long and loud, as his head tilts back. His length fills you, pushes deep into you as you carefully take him inside inch by inch.

When you’re finally sitting against his base, you lean over his torso, letting your lips flutter over his stomach, his chest. Your tongue slips between your lips, delicately tracing over the still-pink crescent moons your nails have left on his skin, and his fingers clench at your thighs. When he ruts his hips, just slightly, into you, you gasp at the sudden movement, pulling your head back as you push yourself up from his body. “Stevie,” you say, voice half-choked. “No. Be good.” You feel him twitch inside of you at your words, his eyes clenched shut as he fights the urge to press into you while you let your body adjust to the sheer size of him.

But you’re craving motion too, craving friction and stretching and gasps, and you start to pull away from him, letting his length slide partially out of your body before settling back down onto him. Steve grunts, the pads of his fingers digging into the skin of your backside hard enough to bruise, and he sounds so pretty you’re desperate to hear him again. “Talk to me, baby,” you command, and Steve’s lips pop open as you lift over him again.

“You feel so good,” he says, immediately, desperate to give you whatever you ask for. “You’re so good, so fucking wet, and so tight, God, I don’t–” his breath hitches as you roll your hips over his, changing the pace so that your head falls back with a moan, “God, fuck, I don’t know how you’re still so tight when you take me like this.” He’s panting between the words, his breathing jagged as he lifts his hips up to rock you as you roll your hips over him.

You whimper, needing more, and grab one of his hands from your hips. You bring it up to your face, setting his palm so that it cradles your cheek and moving his thumb over your lips. Steve pushes his digit between your lips, letting you suck his thumb into your wet mouth as your eyes slide shut. “Fuck, you’re so hot, baby. I–I love–fuck” he whimpers, “I love when you need me like this. Love when you want me so bad, sweet girl.”

You moan at the pet name, clenching slightly around him, and feel his hips thrust into yours harder than he probably intended to. You open your mouth, letting Steve slide his thumb out from between your lips. “Such a good boy for me, baby,” you say, turning your head slightly to nuzzle into the palm of his hand. “You’re my good boy, aren’t you, Stevie?” You ask, blinking at his sweet, sweat soaked face under you.

“Yes, mommy,” he whimpers. You freeze, your body immediately stilling on top of his as your hands loosen. You blink slowly, once, twice. “What?” Steve asks, his eyebrows coming together in confusion. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“You–Steve, you called me mommy.” Your voice is neutral, borderline casual, despite the way your heart is racing in your chest, the painful throb of it echoing in your throat.

“What? No, I didn’t,” he says, his cheeks immediately flushing a dark shade of red. “No, that’s–that’s weird. I didn’t–wouldn’t–say that.”

“Stevie,” you whisper, hand coming to his face to gently brush over his cheekbone. “Remember what we talked about? ‘S not weird. Just different.” His eyes shift, looking away from you as he grimaces. “Steve do you–” You swallow, the words suddenly feeling swollen in your throat. “Do you want to call me mommy?”

His eyes snap back to yours, a clanging echoing in your head as you see the hopeful look there, see him pull his lower lip in between his teeth. “I mean–maybe? Unless it freaks you out?” He’s shy, bashful as the words leave his mouth, and you know he’d be running a hand through his hair now if they weren’t both on your skin so you do it for him, brushing his chestnut colored strands of hair off his face.

You shake your head, leaning over him slowly. You place a kiss to his wide mouth, gentle, before pulling back slightly. “Doesn’t freak me out.” When you kiss him again it’s harder, more aggressive, and you slip his mouth open with your lips. “Say it again,” you order, pressing the words against his open mouth.

“Mommy,” Steve whispers, fingers tightening against your skin. His voice is quiet, easily mistakable for just a whimper if it hadn’t been spoken into your lips, if your mouth hadn’t moved with his. A rational part of your brain tells you this is odd, him calling you mommy when you just saw how his mother let his father treat him–but your core clenches around him at the word, and the less-rational part of your brain (the part of your brain that Steve Harrington already controls) doesn’t really give a shit. Maybe it’s because you’d spent the night ready to defend him, trying to protect Steve from the awful things his parents said to him, but the word makes you feel like you get to keep him safe, like you get to comfort him and care for him, and it’s driving you wild to know that Steve wants you to do that for him.

“Mommy,” Steve says again, his voice louder now, more confident as he feels you respond. You’re launched, suddenly, into a feeling of euphoria, of bliss, at the words, and you wrap your hands around the back of his neck, lifting him with you as you start to sit back up. He takes his hands from around you, pushing them into the mattress to support himself as he sits up, still buried deep inside of you. When you’re upright together, you push Steve’s head, slightly, to your chest, and he takes his cue immediately, cupping your breasts and bringing his lips to a nipple.

“Mommy,” he moans against your skin as you start to rock your hips against his again. You gasp, your fingers gripping his hair as you lean back, slightly, giving him better access to your chest. “Fuck, Stevie,” you moan as his teeth scrape your sensitive bud, “You’re such a good boy. Such a good boy for mommy,” and his hips thrust into yours, hard. His thrust brought him against your wall, almost painful as he pushes against the one part of you that can’t stretch or move for him.

You cry out, your face twisting to the side, and his hands take advantage of the way your throat is suddenly exposed to wrap his fingers around your neck. He brushes his thumb down the side of your throat, pressing into your pulse, and you whimper as the rough pad of his finger presses into the pulsing vein. Still deep inside of you, Steve rocks his hips again, brushing his head against your wall; you feel your stomach muscles clench, your fingers tighten as you jerk forward against him, tiny sounds falling from your lips like dust from the stars you see shimmering in the edges of your vision.

The way he’s buried inside of you right now almost hurts, the intensity of the pleasure so overwhelming it starts to feel like pain. You pull back, just slightly, shifting your hips so that–if he wanted to–Steve could force himself to that point again, could fuck you until you feel like your heart might stop. He looks up at you, his face pressed against the breast his tongue is roaming, and you see in his eyes that he understands; he could fuck you like that, but you want to finish with him tonight, want to take your time with him inside of you. “Sweet baby,” you whisper, slipping your fingers through his hair, and he moans. He pushes, gently, into you again and the room is suddenly silent except for your gasping breaths, the sound of your bodies meeting again and again, and Steve’s occasional cry of “Mommy.”

You feel yourself starting to tighten around him, making him work harder to push his length entirely into you, and you smile, slightly, at the promise of your release. “Fucking me so good, Stevie,” you whisper, “Wanna cum with you, my sweet boy.” You let your fingers slip through his hair, ready to pull at it when the tightening band in your stomach snaps, ready to force him over the edge with you.

Steve’s hips suddenly still under yours. “Want to–” he gasps, his face buried in the skin of your chest as he mouths, desperately, at your warm skin, “want to make you a mommy.” You feel your body pull back, your eyes narrowed as you look at him in shock.

“Let me, please,” he whines, “Let me try. I want to make you a mommy.” You consider him, taking in the desperate shine in his eye, the way his hair is sticking to his forehead, the beads of sweat slipping where the two of you have been pressed skin to skin. “You’re such a good mommy,” Steve says, and you feel something inside of you give in, overcome with the image of Steve Harrington pumping you full of himself.

You nod, pulling your bottom teeth between your lips, and he suddenly tightens his arms around your waist, rolling so that your back is against the bed and he’s over you. For a moment, Steve’s full weight is on top of you, pressing every line, every arch, every freckle and scar and sensitive space into the mattress under you; he’s pinning you, accidentally, and you let your eyes slip shut, a soft sigh floating out of your mouth. He’s here, he’s right here, you think.

Steve pushes himself up, taking some of his weight from you as his mouth comes to your neck, warm and sticky with spit as he pulls the skin of your throat in between his teeth. His fingers work at your waist, pulling your soaked underwear down your hips. Your hands immediately find his shoulder blades, nails pressing along his back. Steve loosens his teeth, letting blood rush to the spot he’s just bruised into your throat, and presses his nose along the hard line of your neck before slipping your underwear off and tossing them to the floor.

His thrusts are gentle at first, loving and tender as he slips himself along your walls. Your fingers tighten around his back, gripping him closer to you, and you try to pull more of his weight back onto your body; Steve pulls his head back from your throat, glancing down at you with an eyebrow lifted. “I need to feel you, Stevie,” you murmur, lips swollen and eyes hazy as you gaze at him above you.

Those words are all it takes for Steve to pull back, slipping your knees over his shoulders before you have time to ask him where he’s going, what he’s doing. When he presses back into you, bringing your knees high and down as he shifts his weight against the back of your thighs, you can’t stop the groan that leaves your mouth. Your hips ache, already, a deep, bruising discomfort that you know will stay with you for days, reminding you of this moment with every step, and your lips twist up as he looks at you.

Your body is open, dripping to the bed below you as Steve slowly, gently pushes in. He’s up against your wall again, but in this position the ache comes second to the pleasure. When he pulls back, leaving only his head inside of you, you whine and reach for him, hands trying to pull him back into you. With a sharp rut of his hips, he buries himself back inside of you; your head rushes back of its own accord, sliding against the pillow Steve has so lovingly laid you on. “Shit,” you moan, and Steve grins over you, grins like he’s just won the State basketball tournament, grins like he’s got a raise at work, grins like he’s won the lottery as he slides home into you.

He continues to push into you, the two of you luxuriating in the way you feel around him in this new position, open enough for him to thrust his hips hard without hurting you, and you find it only takes minutes of hearing his soft groans over you before that band of heat is back in your stomach. One of your hands drifts up from his back, sliding his hair over his forehead before cradling his cheek in your palm. “Stevie,” you try to say, and it comes out as a whimper when he ruts into you. “Stevie, baby, make me a mommy. Want to be a mommy for you,” you say, and you feel your core tightening around him, gentle pulses that are getting tighter and tighter.

His eyes widen, slightly, as if he’s somehow surprised to hear these words from you. “Yeah,” he says, nodding, his eyes hazy like his brain is on autopilot, “I’m gonna. Gonna make you a mommy.” His hips start to stutter, his pace changing slightly as you feel his muscles tighten. You clench yourself, slightly, around him, and his next thrust makes your eyes slam shut, your head roll back, your back arch against the bed. A whimper falls from your lips, a sound almost shockingly quiet for the amount of pleasure it indicates. Your body spasms around his thick length, pulling him in deeper as your hips tilt, pulling him against that far wall.

“Good–oh, fuck, you’re such a good boy,” you stammer, your body still pulsing as your lips fall open, and Steve’s thrusts become smaller; he can’t control himself, can’t pull himself far enough out anymore, as the clenching around him drives him over the edge. He erupts, suddenly, his body twitching inside of yours as his thick, wet heat fills you: “Mommy,” Steve moans, one last time as his release sweeps over him, and it makes you clench around him again. When he finally stops his hips, spent, Steve sags slightly, pressing his weight into you again as his cock twitches, still buried deep inside. He takes a few heavy breaths, both of you panting in silence.

Steve pulls his hips back, carefully removing himself from your swollen, aching lips. He sits up on his knees, removing your ankles from his shoulders and pressing a kiss to each calf before he lays them on the bed. As you watch, he parts your thighs again, sliding the flat of his palm against the mixture of your wetness and his satisfaction. You whimper, quietly, as his fingers slip between your folds and inside of your sensitive core. “Hold on, sweetheart,” he whispers. “Got to keep this in you.”

When he’s done, satisfied that you have enough of his seed fucked deep inside, he slides up the bed, coming to rest beside you. He rolls on to his side, wide amber eyes carefully searching your face as you turn to look at him. He’s beautiful in the soft light of your bedroom, the usual tightness of his face eased as he looks at you. In these moments, Steve Harrington looks like he’s never had a care in the world–he doesn’t look like he has nightmares, or sleeps with a baseball bat by the bed, or avoids his parents. He just looks like a boy in love.

Your fingers are suddenly on his face, ghosting over his cheekbone, down his jawline, over his nose, until he grabs your wrist, bringing your fingertips to his lips. “Thank you,” he says, eyes closing as the words spear into your touch. “For what?” You ask, partially confused and partially hoping you can force him to say it. “For letting me try. I want–” his breath shudders, his wide chest shaking as he opens his eyes to look at you. “I want to keep trying. You’re a–you’re a good mommy.” It’s unclear if the heat that burns across his cheeks is from embarrassment or desire, but you reassure him either way with a soft smile. “I love you,” he whispers, the words imprinted into the tips of your fingers as you trace the curve of his mouth. “I love you too,” you whisper back, “baby boy.”

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violettaskies · 7 months

Text

Of Books & Beasts

Prompt: virginity

Paring: best friend!steve harrington x f!reader

Genre: romance, slow burn, friends to lovers, one bed trope

Notes: wc 9.1k // my first kinktober story (one of five) // hope everyone enjoys it // it’s very soft // a little scary movie night sleep over // reader falls asleep next to steve and things get a little steamy // i wrote everything to have as much consent as possible // steve is a bit of a perv lol

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, NSFW // slight somnophilia, dry humping, virginity loss, vaginal fingering // masturbation // smut // 'just the tip' is used once or twice // please let me know if there is anymore that need to be added!

ao3 // kinktober masterlist // full masterlist // lazy ghoul’s kinktober prompts

-:-:-:-:-

The night was meant to be a simple one. After weeks of assignments, exams, quizzes, and extracurricular activities at college, all you wanted to do was relax. Well, you still had one more assignment left to do, but maybe you were able to kill two birds with one stone, right?

Luckily, this assignment was one that you could easily ask for help with from your friend. Someone who always stole movies for you to borrow on many weekends anyways. With your class being based on books which turned into film adaptations, it means a lot of time spent reading and watching. In truth, you felt bad for your classmates who had to rent out the tapes for extended periods just to finish analysis for assignments; all while you didn’t even need to bat an eyelash in Steve’s direction for him to hide movies in your backpack while his manager wasn’t looking.

With the theme of this particular assignment matching the season and going with horror films, a movie night was something that you craved. Thick sweaters, even thicker blankets, a bit of hot chocolate, and candy from the grocery store that had the orange and black packaging — they were all of the aspects to the marathon you proposed when you walked into Family Video on a Friday afternoon after you got off the bus. Despite all of your convincing tactics, your friend already had his answer long before you began to ask.

“Anything for you, dove. I’ll get everything on this list for us,” Steve smiled at you, after looking at the assignment rubric, as you stood on the other side of the cash register.

“Alright, maybe I should place a pizza order now so that we don’t starve during the Friday dinner rush tonight,” you said sweetly as you nervously thought about what to order.

“Don’t you worry about it, it’s on me. Let me treat you a little.”

“I’m the one who asked you to have a movie marathon with me, I should really be the one paying,” you insisted while you brought your hand closer to the telephone.

But, quickly, the man was able to grasp it lightly to stop you from moving towards the numbers. You could never admit just how much your skin tingled at the touch. “I’m serious. This shift finishes in twenty minutes, then I can drive us home and I’m all yours. Do whatever you want with me, dove. I can even help out with your stress relief later. Maybe I’ll bend —”

“Please don’t continue that sentence,” you cut him off easily. Steve always loved to tease you and any eavesdroppers who may be listening in and theorizing if you two were dating or not. The town is full of gossip fiends. “Any louder and people will start to believe you.”

The younger Harrington chuckled as he got out from behind the counter to stand fully in front of you. He adored to see the way you outwardly pretended you hated the fake moves he would pull. From him putting his arm around your shoulder whilst walking around town, whistling every other time he picked you up from the city bus stop, to intimidating every guy who looked in your direction for too long. However, both of you never knew the other wished for it all to be real.

“Fine, fine, I’ll be good and stop teasing you,” he chuckled lowly.

“Thank you,” you smiled to yourself before looking up at Steve with wide eyes. “So will you also be buying garlic knots tonight too?”

“Yes, as long as you promise to stay awake until the final movie, sleepy girl.”

-:-:-:-:-

You, in fact, did not stay awake the whole movie night. It wasn’t Tim Curry’s fault either. Normally, it was tradition for you two to end off every evening like this with one musical or something more lighthearted to offset the mood. But the day just exhausted you from every angle, that once you finally got to relax and watch a movie for leisure — you relaxed a little too hard. Adding the components of the cold pizza and Steve putting a blanket on you while continuously keeping a grasp on your knee, you were bound to knock out before the movie ended. Later, it was Steve who woke you up with a whisper in your ear. The sound shocked you at first, and then when you opened your eyes to see the man kneeling in front of you, it did cause a slightly loud gasp to escape your lips. After some groaning on your end about not wanting to intrude, you finally gave in to the invitation Steve gave to let you sleep over tonight. The main contributing factor had to be the fact that the man had a really nice blanket and pillow set that felt like it came from a hotel.

However, as you both ended off the night in your room, it was Steve who began to groan — although, it was due to pure frustration.

“I don’t have any clean clothes,” your host said as he rummaged through his drawers.

“How about any sweater and some of those long johns your mother always buys you?” you giggled as you sat on the bed now, reading a book you recently checked out from the library.

“Or you could always sleep naked, I heard it’s really healthy for you. Plus, I would not mind at — ow,” Steve was on his little sarcastic joke before you threw an old pair of socks at his head.

“Maybe I should just head home, this feels like such a nuisance to you,” you smiled and whispered shyly.

Steve really was trying hard to find you something to sleep in. So much so that it caused some sweat to drop on his forehead. But, truly, the man was standing there trying to work up the courage to ask you to put on one of his old swim team sweaters and a cotton pair of shorts he knew would hug your body beautifully.

Yes, you have slept over before when you were younger. However, those were all planned out with you bringing something from home. Well, there was one emergency where you stayed the night due to a horrific snow storm; but, Mrs. Harrington was there to give you your Christmas present a few weeks early and allow you to sleep in some pyjamas which were covered in cute bunnies. This was the first time you would be here spontaneously alone with Steve — and god, did he feel like all of his prayers were answered. The amount of times he has imagined you laying on his bed, committing the most sinful acts, in various positions and scenarios, could be seen as absolutely perverted. So to have the opportunity to have you on his bed, wearing his clothes, covered in his blanket; it all seemed unfathomable to the man.

“Here,” Steve exclaimed quickly so that you would actually stay. “Maybe you would be alright with this sweatshirt and some shorts?”

“This is more than alright. Thank you, Steve,” You skipped off to the washroom to finally get ready for bed and let your friend change into his own pyjamas.

However, when you got the clothing on, it was so embarrassing to stare into the mirror. Everything fits fine — and on a normal day at home, you would probably wear something similar. But remembering the fact that you would be sleeping next to your best friend was so nerve wracking. It was just a lot shorter than what you would usually wear around him if you did wear a skirt or shorts. You just thanked the heavens that the blanket would be covering your legs so that you didn’t feel as exposed.

Not that you believed Steve would try anything; not that you didn’t want him to try anything either. But, you were scared of getting so cold and cuddling too close to him like you did last December during the winter storm. Waking up in Steve’s arms caused your heart to flutter so harshly that your heart rate didn’t go down for days. It made you think about how badly you wished you could wake up to his handsome face everyday. Most especially, it made you think about how nicely his leg felt right in between your thighs, and the way it massaged your —

No.

This was an innocent sleepover like the thousands that other best friends have had over the years. All you had to do was sleep next to him with a pillow between your bodies and hope you didn’t accidentally roll your way into his arms again. You weren’t sure if you were ready for the heartbreak of knowing that being entwined in each other’s arms would not last forever.

“Do you want the left or right side of the bed?” Steve called out from the other side of the door, startling you out of your thoughts.

“Anything is fine,” you replied whilst opening the door. Seeing that Steve was laying in the middle, ready to roll over to whichever side you preferred. The image of him with arms and legs spread out made you giggle.

“The left side is closer to the lamp if you’d like to read a bit before sleeping,” he said as he shifted over to the ride side of the bed and patted to your new spot.

“Are you a mind reader or something?” you chuckled between steps.

Steve put the book in the air as you tucked yourself into bed, a nice distance away from him. Once he saw you were comfortable, he placed the book gently in your lap and said: “no, but I could tell your little nap will probably have you staying awake for the next hour or so.”

“Oh, if the light is gonna bother you then I can turn it off and head to sleep too.”

The concern in your eyes was absolutely beautiful. As you started up at him with the lamp glowing behind you, you looked like a nymph in the night. And oh how Steve knew he would be the luckiest man alive to sleep next to you.

“Go ahead, dove. I can sleep through anything,” he whispered lowly whilst rubbing your thigh that was covered by the thick blanket. “What’s it about anyways?”

You took a deep breath to calm down before speaking. Steve’s touch caused you to feel warm, even more so when he squeezed your thigh every few moments. “Not too sure about the entire plot since I’m only on chapter two. But it’s about a prince and his beast companion. They’ve been best friends for a long time and are going on adventures. This was in the romance section so I’m guessing the best friends fall in love,” you rambled, getting quieter with the last few words.

What a dream.

“Is it dirty?” Steve teased as he sunk further underneath the blanket.

“No, I-I’ve never read a story like that before,” you said sternly.

“Oh, I believe you,” his voice got deeper and slower with each word, only indicating that he was bound to fall asleep any second. “Have fun reading.”

They were the last words he said before drifting off to sleep peacefully next to you. Luckily, that meant it was a lot easier to read the rest of the book until you felt your own eyes start closing and the words on the page started to become blurry.

It was a beautiful story, full of lore and love, a mix of historical fiction and mythology. After reading and watching stories based on the horror genre for a few weeks now, it was nice to have a little bit of a break and just read about love. Your heart started to feel warm and giddy as each page passed — even going as far as quietly giggling when you felt your cheeks feel warm as a result of the prince’s romantic actions throughout the book. You didn’t even notice that you were sinking further and further into the blanket because you were so engrossed in the imaginary world. It didn’t even matter that the angle made your back hurt a little.

Well, not really. Once you started to feel stiff, you moved into a straighter position. However, you were interrupted by a low and groggy voice.

“You want to get under here?” Steve asked you through half-lidded eyes and his arm moving to invite you to move even closer into his body.

Wordlessly, you accepted the offer and went right up to Steve’s body. The book was on his chest while your cheek was at his side. Everything felt so comfortable and domestic — a part of you wished this could last forever.

But right then, the storyline of the book went on a different path, to say the least.

You see, the prince got hurt whilst fighting off some evil spirits. He was bleeding everywhere and in so much pain. But the companion, a beautiful wolf-demon, was able to heal his wounds to the point where it wouldn’t be so life threatening. It was so simple, to use a little magic and bandages in hopes of survival, but the author was able to portray it wonderfully. To thank the woman, the prince moved his arms around her to hold her a warm embrace. It was so sweet, just like the position you were in now. However, it took a turn for the romantics. A little too romantic. An activity you definitely were not currently doing with Steve.

The man kissed her sweetly: from her shoulders, up to her neck, then finally landed on her plump lips. It was beautiful, so serene, accompanied by a drawing of the two in bed with locked lips and legs. Slowly, she started to rock against his leg, adoring the pressure against the place no one had touched before. As she gasped into each kiss, the prince smiled in tandem. Even moving his hips to help the lady feel more pleasure. You wondered how that felt, it was only a slight movement of the hips — there was no way it could feel that good.

But you were so wrong.

Just as you tried to move positions, Steve moved his leg upwards, moving his thigh right against your heat. It felt so good, to the point where you bit your lip to suppress the whimper that was about to escape your lips. The man next to you, tried to find a better position to sleep in too, moving his legs some more until it found solace as it intertwined with your own legs.

Fuck, it felt really good. You tried so hard not to move your hips in tandem so that you could amp up the pleasure. So instead, you continued to read, trying to focus on the writing techniques and nothing else. However, you only began noting the things the characters did with one another. How they whispered sweet nothings as they continued their game to see how long it would take the lady to climax. And you noticed the way you felt warm between your legs, a slight throbbing to seal the deal.

Maybe in another world you would wake up Steve and ask him to let you out of his embrace so that you could excuse yourself to the washroom and down. But not in this one. In this world, you were at peace in his arms. In this world, you really didn’t care about the throbbing ache between your legs because you were extremely sleepy. In this world, you would convince yourself that it would pass. In this world, the sound of both your hearts beating as one was enough of a lullaby to cause even the most stubborn of characters to sleep. Just as you did now, with the book still on Steve’s chest, and your bodies squeezing closer together.

-:-:-:-:-

Steve was an extremely heavy sleeper when he was with you. Most of the time, you would be awake first during these little sleepovers and do something before he even pried his eyes open and then decided to keep them shut because of the sun seeping through the windows. It wouldn’t surprise Steve to see you reading at your desk or braiding friendship bracelets when you had that arts n’ crafts phase a couple years ago. This time, however, he was the one who awoke in the middle of the night to movement from beside him. Maybe it was due to some level of paranoia he has gained over the past few years regarding a life that he wishes you would never need to experience. It’s funny that you were reading books with monsters the world has nightmares about, while he was one of the people who was facing them. He wishes so badly to protect you from all of it. So when you started moving in your sleep, something you never do, Steve felt his body wake up in an instant.

His eyes were having trouble fully opening themselves as he could hear faint whimpering sounds coming from you and slight movements near his thigh. It was enough to turn his head to the left to see what was wrong. But nothing was wrong per se. If anything this was right out of a perverted fantasy he has had millions of times before.

As his eyes finally came into focus at what was in front of him, Steve could only smile and thank the heavens. You were laying in the same position you initially fell asleep in: book held in your hand, it being face down on Steve’s chest on a particular page, while your own face was on the side of his chest. But, the thing that surprised him the most was the grip your thighs had around his own. Slowly, your hips were thrusting back and forth against his leg, humping over and over. Whenever your body hit the perfect spot against your clit, you would mewl against his chest, sending a vibration through his body. Your hard nipples would poke Steve’s stomach once in a while too.

Good Lord, he was so distracted by the vision of you thrusting against his thigh, that he didn’t realize just how hard he had become. He only noticed it when your leg tensed up and moved towards his crotch, touching the underside and head in the process.

You were about to become the death of him tonight.

Curiously, he picked up the book you were reading to put it on the bedside table, when the words jumped out at him.

“And then the prince lifted the dress of the maiden beast. How scary she was to the eyes of the kingdom, but how beautiful she looked with swollen lips and lust-filled eyes. She was wet, so wet that it seeped through the layers of clothing.”

Just then, Steve looked down to notice how your wetness was doing the same thing. Your arousal had gone past your shorts and went onto the cotton bottoms he was wearing. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The man skipped a few paragraphs to see just exactly what the prince and his lady were up to. Words of biting, screaming, thrusting harshly against the wall, even scratches along one another’s backs. It was pornographic, it was beautiful, and Steve was shocked that your virgin eyes read through some of this before falling asleep.

If only he could recreate it with you. Seeing you moan and move to your lust-filled slumber was more than enough of a dream come true to the man. But this was wrong. So wrong. You both were best friends. He loved you, wished he could be more with you. But he believed that wasn’t worthy of you. You were the princess this whole town adored while he was just a former playboy many people seemed to dislike sometimes. There was a part of him that wanted to see how long it would take for you to come against his leg. However, his guilt took over quickly.

“Wake up, my dove. It’s getting hot in here.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. The mixture of blankets and his arousal made Steve sweat through his clothes easily.

“Hm? What?” You rolled more onto his chest, your weight atop his body nicely. It would have been the world’s most comfortable position, one that would start off most of his perverted fantasies about you; however, he had to stop himself from thrusting against your thigh that was now perfectly on top of his hardness. “Feels so nice, Stevie,” you murmured, still half-asleep.

“Fuck — you really like that, huh?” The man whispered as you looked up at him with glazed eyes. You were still not cognizant that what you were doing was not in a dream.

“I feel so warm down there, your leg is massaging me nicely,” you moaned whilst humping some more. “Kiss me, please.”

Every move you were doing, every word you were saying, every whimper that came out of your throat — the man has imagined it all before. You were all of his greatest fantasies come to life. He wished so badly to ravish you on the spot and satiate all of the pent-up pleasure your body needed to release. Your lips were swollen now from all of the biting you’ve been doing to quiet down your moans; but, good god, the man was going to memorize it all for the sake of his future sessions with his right hand.

Steve really needed to stop this, and fully wake you up as soon as possible. This wasn’t the normal you, you didn’t even realize exactly what you were doing. “Pretty girl, no matter how much I want to continue this, we can’t.” The words fell from his lips painfully.

“Why not? You don’t feel good?” You whimpered as you reached up and put your arms around Steve’s neck, stopping your hips’ movements all together.

“Feels so good, baby,” Steve moaned loudly this time as he thrusted against your leg like he imagined a million times before. It wasn't helping that you thought your face closer to his in order to hear his breathy moans easier. The man was so close to leaning forward and kissing your plump lips. “But, this isn’t a dream, and you’re not fully awake. I don’t want you to regret this—”

The man was going to ramble on and continue to comfort you into waking up fully. However, you got the message loud and clear. So much so, that your heart dropped and you gasped.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ll move over t-there — ah.” The moan coming out of your mouth was completely involuntary as you lifted your body up and intended on moving down and away from Steve’s figure.

“Did that feel good?” Steve teased, now that you were both fully cognizant of your sleeping status.

“I don’t know why I did that, I’m sorry.” If only you could apologize a million times, because you would; your guilty conscience would make sure of it.

“You probably had some sweet dreams, huh?”

Just as you were separated from the man, you heard his words and looked over at his figure. Through the dim lighting of the lamp, you could see that he was holding up the novel you were reading before bed, and it was open to the very scene that inspired any of your hormone-induced movements tonight.

“Oh no,” you whispered. Looking down, there was a wet spot on Steve’s thigh where your heat was pressed against. He was admiring it as if he were memorizing just how it looks. And he was. “This is so embarrassing,” you though out loud

“It’s no big deal, dove. Guys have nudie magazines and a video here and there. I would never judge you for a little novel,” Steve chuckled as he sat up to the headboard to mirror your actions.

“I didn’t know it was going to be like that in the story,” you whispered.

“Did you like it?” Your friend was genuinely curious. Throughout your history as friends, you had never even asked him for advice about relationships — this erotic chapter of the novel must have been a shocking first exposure to it all.

You thought about the question for a few moments. Remembering the emotions and fire you felt in different parts of your body, you could really only tell him the truth. “Y-yeah, I suppose so.”

“Then don’t feel embarrassed or bad about it,” Steve nudged your shoulder sweetly to make you feel less embarrassed over the situation. “Never thought you were into reading it in front of other people though.”

“Don’t tease,” you pouted, putting your head under the blanket to hide from the embarrassment.

“I’ll stop, I promise. But, you did give me a wonderful way to wake up,” you could hear him smiling just by the sound of his voice.

Those words made you slowly peek your way out of the thick blanket to see Steve looming over you with a smirk that teased your soul. The lamp in the room made him glow, while the moon’s beams that were seeping through the blinds made him look like one of the many drawings of the prince in the book you were just reading. It took all the strength within you, not to squeeze your thighs together and satiate the throbbing between them.

“Let’s never talk about this again,” you whispered, the blanket still covering your mouth.

“If that’s what you would be comfortable with,” Steve chuckled as he laid back in his spot.

“Y-yes, I would be.”

After a moment of awkward silence, you both in regular sleeping positions, Steve wanted to break the ice a bit. “It is a well-written book. Maybe I could borrow it sometime.”

“You’re so annoying,” you giggled, grabbing a small pillow on the bed and lightly hitting his chest with it.

“Learn anything while reading? You could use me as a practice dummy.” The man laid on his side now, looking at you as he put on a seductive tone.

“You’re just a dummy, Steve,” you playfully scoffed with a giggle.

“That was the last one, promise. Sweet dreams, dove.”

In truth, Steve wanted you to sleep as quickly as possible so that he could make his way to the washroom and get rid of his hard problem. It was hurting now, even as he tried to think about anything else that would possibly subside his arousal. Your movements and moans will never be erased from his mind. Steve’s imagination was running wild with how you actually sounded as you were feeling pleasure.

No one has ever thanked a book more in the history of mankind.

“Is that what sex is like?” You whispered into the night, cutting off the man’s thoughts.

“What do you mean?” Steve replied as he turned to his side to look at you staring up to the ceiling.

“In the book, they talk about it like it happens so fast and hard,” you said the words with a concerned tone while turning your body towards his to face him.

“Well, it can be fast and hard if the couple wants it that way. But, taking it slow is nice too,” the man next to you chuckled sweetly.

You felt dumb asking the question. For years, you have known that Steve was a lot more experienced than you in the department of relations with the opposite sex. There have been countless times where Steve would tell you about any dates that he has gone on, or imply lewd acts he committed with his girlfriend of the week. And all you would do is nod out of pure curiosity. However, this was the first time you outright spoke about sex with him.

“Right, right, that makes sense. It must feel really nice,” you continued your thoughts.

“It does. Everything is so warm and wet. The noises too are something you’ll never forget. My hand and imagination does not do it justice sometimes.” Right then, Steve’s mind went through flashbacks of times he has laid in bed with the image of you stuck as his muse. He has imagined the way you would react and moan to things he would do with you. Would you bite your lip whilst looking down between your bodies? Would you whimper in the same way you do when you beg Steve to drive you somewhere and he just had a long day at work? Anything you would do would be erotic, and enough fire for him to reach the happiest of endings. However, by the end, he would pray for the day he could experience the real thing with you.

“I wonder what it will be like for me,” you giggled, bringing the blanket close to your face again.

“You got a good idea a few minutes ago,” Steve teased as he looked you up and down.

All you could do was hit his shoulder then hide your face into it as he leaned back onto the bed. “It did feel really, really nice, Steve. I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You liked it, didn’t you?” he said, trying to soothe your embarrassment of it all. As he squeezed his arm around you tighter to have you closer to his chest, Steve realized that your bare thighs had found their way around his again. You looked so beautiful cuddling next to him, tightening your legs slowly. “Then, maybe I can help. You didn’t get to finish, sweet girl.”

The deepness of Steve’s voice resonated through your entire body as you looked up at him with desperate eyes. His proposal sounded so good. You felt this constant throbbing between your legs that only increased ten-fold every time you and Steve accidentally breathed too close together. As you gripped his chest with your hands, and his thigh with your own — you really craved to continue the pleasure you were feeling moments before.

“I didn’t even know that I started,” you pouted.

“Oh, but finishing is one of the best parts,” he teased whilst moving his thigh upwards to massage your cunt slowly.

“Steve—” you moaned like music to his ears.

Your friend began to move his thigh up and down to stroke your pussy, hitting your clit from the right angle to make you bite your lip in between whimpers. He held your face sweetly, making sure that he could see how every movement affected you. Steve was sure that the image of your pupils getting darker would be engraved in his mind forever.

“My best friend needs help, and you know I would do anything for you,” he whispered, hovering his lips above yours.

“More, please.”

“So polite,” Steve teased, quickening his pace and moving one hand to your breasts. “Doing such a dirty thing and now you’re being so nice.”

“I feel so — I feel like I need more,” you said quietly as if it were a desperate plea.

Steve squeezed your right breast sweetly, pinching your hardened nipple through the thick sweater fabric. He noted how you thrusted yourself against his thigh and nearly fell onto his lips as you moaned.

“Is your body on fire? You feel nice, dove,” he smiled, kissing your cheek to tease you.

“So good. Kiss me, Steve, please.” You weren’t sure what took over your body in that moment, but you gripped onto his hair and leaned your lips towards his. Yet, he was the one who kissed you first. It was a kiss that made the angels sing above you, one that you both have been imagining for years and years. Hearing all of the stories of girls in school raving about his talents with his mouth and tongue — a part of you could never believe that he would be that amazing.

But, you were wrong, so wrong.

As he kissed you deeply, poking his tongue through to taste you more, you couldn’t help but whimper loudly into the kiss. Steve adored it, promising himself to try everything he could to hear every variation of your beautiful sounds. Just when he brought a hand down to your back, urging your hips to move forwards on his leg, you swear you were about to see stars. This is what all the magazines were talking about. This is what all the whispered conversations during girl talk were giggling about. This is what the novel you were just reading was writing about when it came to the pleasures of the flesh. You remembered what the lady did in the book, and decided to emulate her actions. Although you were slowing down your kisses, your hand found its way to Steve’s clothed hardness. It was nearly peeking out of the sweatpant elastic by now which made you gasp in surprise.

“God, what did you learn in that book?” Steve moaned as he felt your delicate hand on him.

“The characters in the story were really good friends too. She was always tempted to be the one who helped him out when he was really stressed out.” You smiled into the kiss, noticing how teasing him only made you wetter.

You hand gripped his hardness some more, focusing on the large head that could be felt through the fabric.

“Here I thought that was going to be my job tonight,” Steve’s voice was low now as he kissed you down your neck and moved the hand that was previously on your back, to your front. The shorts you were wearing rode up to tighten upon your cunt. The fabric squeezed your clit, and caused your arousal to get all over the place where your thighs met.

Steve pushed the fabric to the side, noticing how you didn’t wear panties to sleep, and started to lightly massage your clit. “Oh God,” you moaned into his mouth while arching your back.

The movement made Steve want to lay you down on your back to have easier access between your legs. Although you whimpered in slight disappointment when you didn’t feel the pressure of his thigh, that all went away when the man teased your wet entrance with his fingers before going up to your clit again.

“No panties, huh? You’re bound to be the death of me.”

“I normally don’t wear any to bed if I’m wearing shorts,” you whispered, moving yourself to feel his fingers more against your nub.

“Is it alright if I take these off?” He barely got the question out before you began to nod.

Looking at you in all your glory was absolutely mind blowing to Steve. He swears that he felt his cock twitch in excitement when he saw your arousal dripping on his sheets. The light from the lamp made you look like you were glowing, and the man was so tempted to taste what he has been craving for so long. But, he took it slow, circling your clit faster and faster as he leaned down to kiss you deeply. As every moan was swallowed by him, Steve began to thrust himself upon the side of your hip to satiate his arousal.

The moment he stopped kissing you for a moment, he wordlessly looked you in the eye, teasing your entrance now with his fingers. With a nod and smile through bitten lips, you gave him full permission to fill your hole that has been desperately throbbing around nothingness.

“Feels so good, Stevie. Keep doing that, please,” you groaned as he fingered you deeper and deeper.

“Are you close, dove? Are you gonna come? You’re so tight, can barely fit these two fingers,” Steve teased as he kissed your neck to make you moan louder.

“More — need more.” The grip you had on his hair became tighter as you pushed yourself down on his hand, nearly fucking yourself on his fingers. Feeling so stretched out was a brand new experience. You were never one to masturbate, even when everyone mentioned it was so much fun. Everything from seeing a hot guy at the mall, a rockstar who was shirtless on the cover of a magazine, or the angle of a showerhead accidentally focusing on a sweet spot — none of those experiences ever happened in your life. In truth, nothing ever made you curious enough to even try to see if other things would have a similar effect. But something about this night made you want to experience it all with Steve.

The man quickened his pace with his fingers, using one hand to thrust into you while the other massaged your clit sweetly. Your moans echoed through the room as you arch your back in ecstasy. The feeling of Steve’s lips on your throat made you want to thrust against his hand harder, but you were too overwhelmed to move your hips in tandem. Instead, you lifted up your shirt and started to squeeze your lonely nipples.

You aren’t sure what took over — all you knew was that everything felt so good.

“Fuck, you really do have the most perfect tits,” Steve whispered to himself when he got up from your neck. He felt your movements and thought something was wrong. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of your swollen nipples, eager for some sort of touch. When he saw your fingers squeeze your right nipple, he could not handle it anymore and dove down to suck on them, leaving marks on your smooth skin.

“Steve, everything you’re doing feels so good,” you moaned.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby? I know you can do it.”

And you did. Loudly. Just those words, working in tandem with his fingers and mouth, were more than enough to make you orgasm into oblivion. Steve had two fingers inside of you whilst his thumb was massaging your clit in small circles. You barely had the strength to tell him how good it felt since you were shaking below him in pleasure. All you could do was grasp Steve’s hair as he kissed one nipple of yours to the next. It was your very first orgasm, and you were welcoming it with open arms.

“So nice —” you whimpered incoherently.

Steve kissed you, swallowing in your moans of ecstasy. “I’m never gonna get tired of that sound,” he teased as he took out his fingers from inside of you and just massaged your clit as you got down from your high.

“So much better than reading a book,” you giggled as your body calmed down.

“Maybe we gotta find you crazier books then,” Steve smiled with you while kissing your soft lips.

The kiss became deeper as you embraced one another. Your friend found his way on top of you which felt so surreal. Throughout your friendship, you never believed that some of your naughty dreams that you pushed to the side, would ever come true. Steve was having the same thoughts; however, he never pushed those dreams to the side. More likely, he would take care of any hard problem that was in between his legs. But, kissing you only made him throb harder. Especially now that he knows what your pussy felt like on his fingertips,

“Again — I can take more,” you whispered between kisses.

“Needy girl, you really want to?” Steve asked, making sure this wasn’t a dream for him now.

“Mhm, yes, what if we slipped it in?” your hand moved down his body and to the waistband of his pants. Without even stretching the fabric, you looked up at him with sweet eyes. “Would it feel good too? Maybe just the tip?”

Fuck.

Steve needed to calm himself down. He was already on the verge of cumming in his pants, watching you orgasm on his sheets. Even now, as the remnants of your arousal covered his fingers, he wondered how it would feel against his hardness. But, Steve couldn��t do that to you now. Especially knowing the fact that it would be your first time. However, the lust that clouded your eyes as you pouted up at him, was convincing him slowly.

The conflict on Steve’s face was so apparent that you whispered: “oh, we don’t need to—”

“Fuck, I want to,” Steve kissed you sweetly. “Are you sure, baby? Sure that you can take it all?”

“Yes, yes, I promise you that I can,” you smiled up at him and then bit your lips out of a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

You kissed one another again, not being to stand the time your lips were apart from each other’s. As you did so, Steve brought his hands under your sweater to nearly rip it off of you — leaving you beautifully naked on his plaid sheets. His hands were calling to him, telling him that one day he needed to take a picture of you like this. But, there is going to be another time, surely. Right now, he wanted to satiate your body’s cravings. As you stared up at him and squeezed your thighs together, Steve was truly about to combust.

“It’s kinda cold,” you giggled as you stared down at your hardened nipples. Then, you sat up slightly to meet his lips again, but not without whispering close to his mouth. “Can I take off your clothes too?”

With those words, Steve helped you take off his tight shirt and sweatpants. You’ve been teasingly touching it throughout tonight’s escapades; however, seeing his hardness in all its glory, stunned you. It was a lot thicker and longer than you initially believed. In truth, there were countless moments where you had gotten a glimpse of his size. Like the times he invited you to his backyard to swim, and he always seemed to choose tighter swim shorts every week. Or the one time he forgot to bring a towel into the shower so you brought one to him, thinking that he was going to keep the shower curtain atop his body for some modesty; however, when you were on your way out the room, he let go of the plastic curtain a bit too early and you saw a definite outline from the side of your eyes. Every single time, no matter how crazy the situation may be, you felt warm all over your body. This time, however, seeing the way it hung and the precum leaking out of it, you were hypnotized to say the least.

“One sec, dove,” Steve whispered as he saw that you were about to touch it. You looked to see that he bent his body to reach his nightstand and take out a little clear bottle.

“What is that?” You asked innocently as you began to stroke him while he wasn’t looking.

“I-it’s — fuck — it’s lube. We could use a little if you wanted to,” Steve said seriously before bringing a hand to your arousal and massaging your clit sweetly. “Not sure if we will need much,” he teased.

Steve kissed you again, having you lay down on the bed fully. He thrusted his hardness against your pussy a few times, seeing how you reacted to the feeling. You adored it, mewling every time the head of his cock coincided with your clit. In truth, you both could have been doing this for the rest of the night until you two came; however, you were throbbing around nothing and you craved to feel more stretched out than with Steve’s fingers.

You broke away from the kiss, eyeing the bottle of lube curiously, before Steve grabbed it and put it in your hands to look at closer. There were times you saw a similar bottle in the drug store and noticed they were next to the condoms and pregnancy tests. You saw that there were big bold letters on the front: ‘for her pleasure,’ which confused you slightly. But, you decided to give it a try anyways — it must be something good, you guessed.

“Let's use a little, Steve.”

“Yeah, sure. You want me to put it on?” He asked sweetly as he outstretched his hand.

“N-no, I wanna try something,” you smiled up at him before putting a dollop of the gel in your right hand. “You’re so big, Stevie. You’re gonna stretch me out so good.”

Your words were hypnotizing the man above you as you circled your hand over his cock and stroked a few times. And to think that he believed that he was to be taking the lead tonight.

“F-fuck, dove. Your hands are so soft.” Steve’s moans were making you wetter by the second. You felt your heat throb harshly around nothing, before you moved your hips upwards a little and guided his cock into you.

Just the tip — you said the words before.

But, fuck, it felt so nice that you both needed so much more. Steve stayed still above you as he watched the way you move your hips to bounce on his cock from below. Inch by inch, you thrusted yourself upon his lube-covered hardness, causing moans to echo through the room as you got stretched out.

This was so much better than you both could have ever dreamed of.

“So hard,” you whispered as you got in the last inch and took all of Steve’s cock in.

“You’re taking me so well, dove. So fucking wet,” he said as he kissed you and let you get used to the large size.

“Feels nice.”

“Tell me if you don’t like it,” Steve whispered as he kissed your lips one last time before moving his mouth down your neck and finally thrusting his hips into you.

Everything seemed to amplify ten-fold. All of the pleasure, moans, tingling, stretching — it all felt so nice. It was if you two were the only people in the world, with the sky changing from a navy blue to a bright orange. Sweet nothings were whispered into the air as you both wanted to give each other the poetic justice you deserved.

Steve kissed you every time he heard your moans get louder and louder, wanting to taste your ecstasy. He moved back and forth from kissing your lips, to your neck, to your breasts. It all made you grip his hair tightly no matter where he was focusing on your body.

“Keep going please, Steve. Everything feels so full,” you screamed incoherently.

“God, you're throbbing around me. I don’t think I can take it.” The man above you was thrusting into you at an increasingly faster pace, missing the feeling of your warm pussy every time he was even an inch out of you.

“Steve, I wanna feel you cum,” you whispered before grabbing his hair to have him stop sucking on your nipples in order to look at you.

He adored how needy you were. “Dirty little mouth, Princess.”

“Need more — need you to go faster.”

“You know I've been dreaming about this moment time and time again. Who knew all it would take is a dirty novel, isn’t that right?” Steve teased as he reached town and pinched your clit playfully.

“You’ll never regret driving me to the bookstore from now on,” you giggled in between whimpers.

In truth, you didn’t notice the way you were moving yourself upwards to meet his thrusts. It made Steve bite his lip to stop himself from cumming inside of you prematurely. “Dove, you're taking me so well — fuck — better than I’ve ever imagined,” he moaned.

“What have you imagined? What were we doing?” you asked it so innocently, stroking his chest as he continued to thrust into you.

Where did you learn how to do that? — was what he really wanted to ask. Instead, his mind started to blurt out his fantasies.

“Sometimes I’d have you like this: fucked out and cock drunk in the middle of the night. Other times it would be me bending you over while you’re studying. Always wearing those tiny skirts with the slit.”

“For you, I wear it for you. I know the yellow skirt is your favourite, isn’t it?” You teased him now.

You always noticed the way he would ask you pick things up from the floor, mention that your shoes were untied while he was standing behind you, or the way he would always take off a piece of lint from the back of your skirt — even if you had just used a lint roller on it a few moments before. He loved the way the fabric would sway, and you loved the way he looked at you. It made you feel so warm even on the windiest and coldest of days.

One thing was for certain, it definitely felt like such a tease in comparison to how your heart and body felt right now.

“You little minx,” Steve moaned as he thrusted into you faster.

“Do you think I don’t imagine you ripping my skirt into a million pieces every time you stare at me?” the words fell from your lips breathily while Steve’s pace increased more and more. “You’re not so good at recognizing mirrors in front of you when you’re staring at the back of my tiny skirt, huh?”

“God, you like it when I’m being your perv, naughty girl,” Steve stated.

“Makes me feel nice. Just like this.”

Just then, Steve made sure that his thrusts and massages on your clit were working in tandem with the way your pussy was throbbing on his cock. He could tell with the way you were arching your back more and closing your eyes, that you were bound to orgasm soon. “You’re so beautiful, dove. So beautiful and taking me so well.”

“Oh my—” your voice sounded so sweet as you looked up at him with desperation in your eyes.

“That’s it, let it happen,” Steve grunted, making sure to stop himself from cumming so that he could time it with yours.

“Faster, please,” you nearly screamed now as everything was hitting you in all the perfect spots.

Steve took that as his sign to move faster: from his hands to his hips. He loved to see the way you were reaching your climax on his cock — an image he would never get out of his mind for the rest of his life. You were squeezing his hardness tighter and tighter, with your moans getting louder in tandem. And so, Steve angled his cock upwards to try and hit your sweetest spot inside of you.

And he did.

Good god, he did.

“That’s it, that’s my dove.” He chanted over and over as you were shaking beneath him, orgasming harder than you did previously.

“S-Steve, fuck.” You rarely swear, but to know that he was the one to cause this little word to fall from lips with such grace — it was the final straw for Steve.

He began to cum inside of you, your pussy milking him with each thrust. All of his arousal was filling you up to the point where it started to spill out and glisten all over your thighs. “So tight,” he whimpered above you.

For a few moments, you both came down from your highs. With a few thrusts and kisses, you allowed your bodies and heart rates to calm down as one. It was beautiful and so bewitching to experience it all. You weren’t so sure what it would be like now. Being friends for so long meant that you both knew so much about each other. However, now, you two seemed to see a lot of each other too. There was no turning back to what it was before. Not after everything felt so good in this way.

You both looked into each other’s eyes before kissing sweetly, enveloping each other in one last kiss before breaking apart under the morning sun’s rays.

“You are so beautiful,” Steve whispered as he moved to lay next to you.

“So are you,” you smiled while cuddling close to him.

“Are you alright?” He asked sweetly, kissing your forehead in the process.

“Yeah, I guess I feel a little sore,” you giggled as you moved your head upwards to feel your lips on his again.

Steve gasped into the kiss, breaking it apart to get some tissues from his nightstand. “Do you need a bath, some water, or food?” He asked whilst wiping the remnants of his climax away on your thighs.

“I’m fine, Steve, I promise.” You smiled as he looked at you with the biggest hazel gaze.

Truthfully, you looked like a goddess glowing next to him with the dawn reflecting on your skin. He wasn’t sure if there were enough words in any dictionary to describe your beauty. Maybe not even from the book you were reading before bed. “How about you sleep for a bit and then when you wake up, I’ll have all your favourite breakfast foods on the kitchen table?” The offer was so tempting coming from Steve’s lips.

“Hmm, what if I want to help you?” You giggled. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be separate from him for too long. The place in between your thighs was begging for his touch again. “There is a scene in that book where the prince and the lady were eating breakfast and then—”

You stopped speaking when you saw Steve reach behind him to find the novel on his nightstand, before flipping pages in the book to see what you were talking about. “Maybe you should read this story to me another day and I can help you every time you get really excited during a scene,” he winked.

“Another day?”

“Yes, for now, we could get started on writing the beginning of our newest story, dove. If you would like to, of course.” Steve whispered the words as he hovered his lips above yours, teasing you with each breath that tickled your skin.

“I’d really, really love that,” you smiled up at him, bringing your arms around his neck in the process.

If one thing was for certain after tonight: both of you found comfort and love in each other’s arms — and later on in a few different sections of the book store too.

-:-:-:-:-

5K notes · View notes

boyfriendstevie · 5 months

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sturdy

steve wants to test out the desk he just built for you | everyone say thank you @superblysubpar for encouraging me to write this hehe | 2.7k, f!reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv. don't do it kids. 18+ as always!! mdni!!

“Babe! C’mere!” Steve calls from the spare bedroom, echoing down the hall of your new apartment.

You’re in the kitchen, starting to unpack a few boxes there, while Steve had been working on putting together your new desk. Obviously, you’re more than capable of putting your own desk together, but Steve had offered, and, well, sometimes you have to make the patriarchy work for you. Placing the half-unpacked box of silverware onto the counter, you shout back a reply and head through the maze of boxes to the bedroom, “I’m comin’! Give me a sec!”

When you reach the bedroom, Steve’s standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips as he looks at his handiwork. His back is to you, so he doesn’t notice when you come in, and you take a second to admire him. He’s quite the sight; wearing an old pair of gym shorts that are a bit too small for him, a well-worn shirt that might be yours — you’re not sure from this angle — and a baseball cap on backwards to keep his hair out of his face. He looks so good, and it hits you then, just how lucky you are. How lucky you are to be living with your ridiculously handsome boyfriend who offers to build things for you out of the kindness of his heart and looks ridiculously good while doing so.

“Hon—“ the word dies on his lips as he turns around to find you standing in the doorway. A grin stretches across his face at the sight of you, making your heart flutter in your chest. “You starin’ at me, stalker?”

“So what if I was?” you ask, crossing the room so you can throw your arms over his shoulders, “I can’t admire my hot boyfriend?”

A strong arm wraps around your waist to pull you close. He hums in thought before shrugging, “I’ll allow it, I guess. If you give me a kiss.”

“Deal,” you murmur as you lean up on your toes to press your lips to his in a soft kiss. It’s short and sweet, but you don’t mind. “Thanks for building the desk, baby.”

“Anything for you, honey,” he hums quietly in reply, dipping down one more time for a quick peck on the lips. His hand rubs over the curve of your hip gently as he adds, “Hopefully it’s sturdy enough…”

“Steve, I’m sure it’s fine, as long as you followed the directions—“

“Maybe we could test it out?” he asks, giving you a cheeky grin, eyebrows raised in question.

You snort a laugh, eyebrows furrowing together. You’re pretty sure you know what he’s getting at, but you ask anyway, “And how would we do that?”

His smile grows, looking a bit more mischievous as he turns you around and slowly begins walking you back towards the desk. You let him lead you, giggling with your hands on his shoulders, until you bump into the desk. He leans down to kiss you again, and just before your lips touch, he squeezes your hips and mutters, “Up, honey.”

It’s a messy kiss, your lips nearly missing Steve’s in the effort to get up onto the desk, even with him helping you up. You briefly wonder if this is safe — you have no doubt that Steve built the desk well, but you highly doubt that it’s made to support a whole human’s weight — but the thought quickly passes by when Steve takes your thighs into his hands and pulls you towards the edge of the desk for a proper kiss.

Steve’s nose nudges into yours, poking at your cheek as he kisses you, lips slotting against yours. He kisses you as if he hasn’t kissed you in days, groaning into your mouth as you rock your hips forward, searching for his touch. You let out a whine when his teeth nip at your bottom lip, tongue quickly following suit to soothe the bite.

“You know, I was— I was mostly kidding,” Steve pants when he pulls back between kisses, lips pink and wet as his tongue darts out.

“I know,” you reply with a huff of a laugh, twisting your fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, “But you look so fucking hot, and you just built me a whole ass desk, and we fucking live together now, and— please just fuck me on the desk, baby.”

“Shit. Yeah, okay, I can do that,” he quickly agrees, not quiet believing his stupid line actually worked, and that you’re spurring him on as you wiggle your leggings down your hips and legs. The fabric gets stuck at your knees, and Steve springs into action, murmuring something about how it’s his job to undress you as he pulls at the fabric until he can drop it to the floor.

His hands land on your thighs again, thumbs pressing to the soft flesh at the inside of your thighs as they push up towards your core, spreading your legs apart as he goes. There’s no mistaking the small damp spot in the center of your panties as you squirm under Steve’s gaze. Pressing the pads of his thumbs to the crease at the apex of your thighs, he finally looks back up to you and asks, “Can I taste you first?”

Your answer is a quiet, choked moan and a frantic nod, “Please.”

Steve doesn’t have to be told twice, sinking to his knees in front of the desk as he pulls you closer. It’s the perfect height for this; your burning core only inches from Steve’s hot mouth. He wastes no time in leaning forward, pressing the softest of kisses to the growing wetness there, nose nudging against your clit through your underwear. A low groan comes from deep in his chest, “Can I take these off?”

Before Steve can even finish his sentence you’re nodding again, lifting your hips off of the desk as best you can so he can pull the fabric from your body. As soon as your underwear is on the floor, he’s back on you, licking a broad stripe up your cunt that has you gasping in surprise at his eagerness, “Steve—“

“Mmm,” he hums as his tongue finds your clit, sending vibrations up your spine as he sucks softly and rolls the sensitive nub between his lips.

It makes you keen, a high-pitched whine that might be embarrassing if you weren’t so blissed out. Your legs tremble as he kisses back down towards your dripping entrance, and your fingers twitch with the need to hold onto something. How Steve always makes you feel untethered so quickly, you’ll never know, but you remedy the problem easily, pushing his hat off of his head. It’s perfect timing on your part; your fingers rake through his soft hair just as his tongue dips inside of you, lapping at your slick.

You pull at the strands a bit harder than you mean to and Steve moans against you. The sound isn’t quite loud enough for you to hear, but you can feel it. The sensation makes your legs close around Steve’s head, but an arm curls around one thigh before it can press against him. It doesn’t take much for Steve to push your leg back down and hold you open for him, despite how much you’re squirming.

Steve pulls back after another sloppy kiss to your clit, lips shining with your slick and his own spit. He’s grinning, borderline smug as he nuzzles into the crease of your thigh again, nipping the delicate skin there, “Y’always taste so sweet, baby. Only fitting that my pretty girl has the prettiest pussy, huh?”

You squirm again, this time in embarrassment, and huff a pathetic whine, “Steve, stop—“

“Well I can’t lie,” he all but giggles, pressing a kiss to your hipbone as his gaze drags up your body to meet your eyes, “Want me to keep going? Or d’ya want my cock?”

Both sound like great options, but you can see the outline of his hard cock in his slightly-too-small shorts, and you want him. Reaching down to brush some hair out of Steve’s face, you murmur, “You. Want you.”

“I gotcha, sweetheart,” he smiles, sweeter this time, giving your thigh another kiss before he pulls himself up to stand.

Your chest heaves as you reach for him, taking the fabric of his shirt into your grasp and yanking him closer for a kiss. You can taste yourself on his mouth, but you don’t really mind, especially as his hands roam up your sides, inching underneath your shirt to cup your breasts. He’s teasing again, thumbs barely brushing over your nipples. But two can play at that game, even while he’s kissing you so hard you can barely breathe, and you slip a hand between you, palming his hard cock over his shorts.

“Okay, okay,” he pants after a moment of shaky breaths and wandering hands, “Can you— will you bend over for me? ‘S that alright?”

Instead of answering, you slide off of the desk and cup Steve’s face in your hands to give him a firm kiss. You make a show of turning around, leaning over your brand new desk until your forearms press to the wood grain. You hear a small groan from behind you as you push your hips backwards, ass pressing to Steve’s bulge, “Christ, sweetheart. How’d I get so goddamn lucky? Fuckin’ gorgeous, and all f’me.”

Warm hands spread wide over your hips, the pad of Steve’s thumb rubbing a short line over one of the dimples in the small of your back. He gives your flesh an appreciative squeeze before his touch is gone. You huff a whine at the loss of warmth and you hear a quiet chuckle from behind you, “Relax, baby. Gimme a second.”

There’s a quiet rustle of clothing, and then Steve’s hands are back on you, pulling you back towards him. You’re about to complain, to ask him to do something, anything, when you finally feel the tip of his cock nudge against your entrance. Your breath catches as he pushes his hips forward, finally sinking into you slowly. He takes it easy, knowing that you’re plenty wet, but maybe not quite warmed up enough from just his mouth.

He stops when the front of his thighs press against the backs of yours, fingertips dimpling your hips with how firmly he’s holding onto you. Like he’s worried you might slip away. You moan softly at the aching stretch of your cunt, dizzy with how full you feel of Steve, Steve, Steve. He’s all you want — all you can think about, “Oh f-fuuck… Stevie…”

You swear you can feel his thighs quivering against yours as he stills inside of you. You can hear the grit in his voice, picture the way his jaw is clenched, as he murmurs, “Okay?”

A shaky breath escapes your lips, and you nod emphatically, maybe a bit too quickly, voice a higher pitch than normal, “So good, baby. Move, please move, need y-yo—“

The words die on your lips as Steve draws his hips back slowly and then presses back in. Your head falls forward, mouth dropping open in pleasure with a whine. You feel hot everywhere; a warmth that starts in tummy and spreads slowly, creeping up your torso and chest, into your limbs, until it feels like your body is on fire in the best way.

His hips roll in and out of your tight heat. It feels so good, and somehow, you still need more. Your forearms press further into the desk as you shift, pushing up on your toes to tilt your hips. You know that if you’re in just the right position, Steve will find the spot that makes you see stars. Desperate for the feeling, you shift again and hear a huff from behind you at the movement.

Steve knows what you want, and pushes his arm underneath you, between your body and the desk. His hands press to the softness of your tummy and to the curve of your hips as he pulls you into a better position, angling your hips so he can reach even deeper. The new angle has you gasping with each thrust, a punched-out sound that you can’t help between whimpers of Steve’s name and expletives. Steve’s not fairing much better, and you can hear the low grunt he lets out every time his skin meets yours, “You’re so wet— fuck, sweetheart — y’hear that? Hear how wet you are f’me? Feel so good ‘round me, baby. So good for me.”

“Y-yes, yeah — ah, Steve! — all yours,” you babble in an attempt to answer him, though you’re too fucked out to be all that coherent.

Seconds later, you get exactly what you’d been wanting when you’d shifted your hips; the head of Steve’s cock pressing to the spot inside of you that turns you to putty. The moment he finds it, your legs go weak, and Steve’s grasping onto you even tighter in an attempt to keep you somewhat upright. His arm curls across your midsection, and you feel his warmth against your back as he presses his chest to you. You can feel his breath, hot against the nape of your neck as he murmurs, “Right there, baby? That’s what you wanted, huh?”

You clench around him, making the drag of his cock that much sweeter. The feeling pulls a deep moan out of Steve, sending shivers down your spine as he twitches inside of you. One of the hands on your waist pushes up under your shirt until he can press against your sternum, and then he’s pulling you almost upright. Your eyes meet his in the vanity mirror attached to the desk, and you moan at the sight; you look just as fucked out as you feel, and so does Steve.

Lips on your neck, Steve hums, pleased, “There’s my girl. Look at yourself, honey, so so pretty on my cock, yeah?”

“Stevie,” you whine his name, and he’s sure it’s the best sound he’s ever heard, “‘m close, ‘m so close.“

“Y’gonna cum on my cock for me, sweetheart? C’mon, honey, know ya can,” he says, his free hand snaking down your torso and your hips to find your clit. He circles it quickly, over and over, just how you like, and with his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, it doesn’t take long until you fall apart with a cry of his name.

He’s not far behind you, hips never slowing their pace, even as he bends you back over the desk. Every wave of pleasure has your cunt clenching around him, and it pushes Steve over the edge, too, with whiny groans against your skin where his face is pressed. You can feel him spill deep inside of you and you shudder, eyes squeezing shut as your head falls forward, hitting the desk with a small thunk.

Steve’s teeth sink into the smooth skin of your shoulder, quick and gentle, more of a nip, as he presses his chest to your back. Soft kisses soothe over the small bites, and then Steve’s pressing his nose into the crook of your neck, breath hot and heavy as he nuzzles there. You pant into your arms folded on the desk and melt into Steve’s touch as his hand rubs lovingly across your hip bones.

“Y’alright, baby?” he asks, out of breath.

“Mhm,” you murmur, post-orgasm haze still clouding your thoughts.

“Good,” you can feel the curve of his lips against your spine, followed by a few soft kisses that trail down your back. He stops halfway down, hands settling onto your hips as he stands back up and slowly pulls out.

You wince, still so sensitive, but let Steve pull you up and off of the desk, turning you around so your lips can meet his. He kisses you on the mouth, once, twice, and trails a kiss over to your cheek. Your fingers tangle into his hair and you let out a breathless laugh, “I think it’s sturdy enough.”

Steve huffs in amusement, “Thank god. Imagine if it broke while we were on it. And, good news, we just checked the office off of the ‘places we still need to fuck in the new apartment’ list.”

“If you bring me to the bathroom right now, we can check off another one.”

Eyes going wide, Steve grins, literally whisking you off of your feet as he says, “Deal.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington blurb #stevie #steve thots #kit writes

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luveline · 4 months

Text

kisses before dinner — steve comes home to his girls after a long day. 2k, mom!reader

Steve has a back ache twinging between his shoulders that takes his breath away as he treks the last step up to the front door. The door gets caught on the latch when he pushes it open, which is awesome, Steve’s so glad you’re being safe late at night, but deplorable in that he has wood grain etched into his jaw and no way inside.

“Girls?” He knocks the glass pane. “Anybody home?”

Everyone should be home. Your car is in the driveway, the girls’ shoes are by the wall. He pushes the door open as far as he can (not far) and weasels his face into the gap to look for you. It’s dark besides the upstairs bathroom light.

Steve calls your name a few times, but eventually comes to the realisation that you’re all asleep and he’s locked out. He closes the door and heads back to his car to scrounge the spare back door key from under his seat.

He fights through the garden gate covered in brambles to the backyard. It hasn’t been touched since summer, forgotten things left to the elements. Avery’s bike flakes with copper coloured rust against the wall. The trampoline net is tangled and fallen off of one side. There are plastic cups in the stinging nettles growing back beneath it and gummy bears swollen with water along the paving stones like some poor retelling of Hansel and Gretel. He unlocks the back door and promptly knocks over the trash can he’d left in front of it. His back whines as he cleans it away, but at least it’s warm inside.

It’s good to be home.

He shoves the toppled garbage back into the can, washes tomato sauce off of his hands in the sink, and lets himself bask in his own poorly lit company for a moment, rubbing his tired eyes. He was hoping for a welcome party. It took longer to help Robin move than they’d anticipated.

“I won’t be back for a while,” he’d said apologetically down the phone.

“Okie dokie,” you’d crooned. He didn’t need to see you to know there was a baby in your lap. “Just come home when you can, babe. And lift with your knees! I’ll put your plate in the fridge, yes? Love you.” Your voice turned to sugar. “Love you, love you, love you, honey.” You definitely weren’t talking to him at that point. Mother of my kids, he’d thought reverently, the strength of a thousand men restored for an hour or two before the fatigue truly set in and he and Robin considered leaving the rest of her furniture on her new front lawn.

He scratches his hair from his eyes with both hands. Mother of my kids, he thinks again. You’ve actually managed to keep the kitchen tidy, the only evidence of a day of play being the grape juice rings on the dining table placemats. How the fuck you’ve done it is a miracle worth marvelling. Three children, one (admittedly smaller) baby bump, and a full eighteen hours by yourself. You’re very impressive.

He decides to tell you emphatically with his face in your neck. He should shower, and he will apologise to you for subjecting you to his sweaty hair in the morning. You’ll shrug off his apology, say something sweet about for better or worse or maybe wrinkle your nose and kiss him anyways.

Steve honestly can’t find any shame about how much he likes you. Like and love can begin to diverge in a marriage, especially after kids when your duty as parents is more important than it is as partners, but you’ve yet to let him pull away, and he won’t give you a reason to. He’ll keep trying as hard as possible to be a husband you can adore. And you don’t have to do much, really. Realistically you give the majority of yourself every day to Steve and your kids, but he would cling to you if you got sick of it. He knows he would. You could turn hermit and live under the bed, and Steve would spend half his life on his stomach just looking at you.

Half trying to pull you out again. The other half getting the girls ready for school. He’s so tired he doesn’t realise that this is too many halves.

When he gets to the top of the stairs he feels like a lifetime has passed since he left that morning, bright and early at 5AM. There’d been driving, car swaps, booing at people from behind the wheel, a hundred boxes, a million trips up and down the stairs, and a suspicious washing machine recalibration. This was without the cold coke drinking, peanuts, popcorn, mistimed movie references, and the obligatory insulting of Robin’s girlfriend’s mauve chaise, of which Robin refused to participate.

Between all that, there’d been worrying, and a want for more phone calls. Promise me you’ll call me if you need anything at all, he’d said that morning, giving your face a fond caress. There’s a confidence that comes with this much love. Steve can pour every inch of his affection for you into one touch and knows you’ll soak it up like a sponge. Really. Any problems, any stress, any tantrums. Just call me. I’m ten minutes away.

You were grateful if amused, telling him he didn’t need to worry so much, and then offering him another slice of toast.

Is it weird how much I love my wife? he wonders, pushing open the bedroom door gently.

You’re actually awake! He’s shocked and a little betrayed to find you looking at him, but the betrayal fades when he notices the swelling around your eyes and your trembling arm as you hoist yourself up under Avery’s weight. He’s woken you up coming in.

“Sorry,” he mouths, frowning at your shakiness.

You manage a smile and beckon him forward. The problem is the little ladies strewn about in the way. Avery drools on your chest while Dove takes up the entirety of Steve’s side, spread into a star shape, and Bethie snores loudly by your knees. An especially aggressive one makes him laugh as he rounds the bed to your side.

“Hello,” he whispers, taking your face into a loving hand, “sorry I’m back so late.”

You smile into his palm but don’t say anything.

“You okay? Had a good day?” he asks.

You hum something nonsensical. He wipes at your cheek in the rough way you enjoy, your face bumped with every stroke of his thumb.

“Did you…” Your eyelashes flutter closed. “Did you eat?”

“Loads. Sorry. I’ll eat my dinner tomorrow.”

You wrinkle your nose. He’s been dying to see it. “Don’t bother, it wasn’t my best.”

“All dinners are your best.”

You cover his hand with yours, and then you steal it away from your cheek and kiss it all over. Steve bends down to hug you.

“Missed you,” you say at the same time. Steve laughs. “Was it a long day?” you ask.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“It was aeons,” you say. “The girls were good, mostly. Baby not so much.”

“Aw, no,” he croons softly, “what’s she been doing?”

“She won’t let me eat.”

Steve rubs the top of your arm. “I’m sorry, honey. You should’ve called me.”

“What are you gonna do, H?”

He breathes out into the side of your face. “You’re right, like always. What can I do?”

He can’t do a thing to ease your morning sickness, so… Steve ends up taking a knee on the bed beside you to hold you for a while, no rush to lay down even though he aches in strings and shouts. “I’m glad I can’t get pregnant. I’d have hundreds of your babies if I could and it would be torture.”

You laugh at his absurdity in the giggly startled way he’d been hoping for.

“Did you throw up?” he asks, pulling away enough to see your face while his hand starts the soft journey down your front to your bump. You’re about three months along and the bump came quickly. It’s cute and Steve loves it and he tries not to be weird about it but he’s weird about you.

“No, just kept churning. I made eggs for breakfast and we can’t eat them anymore.”

Steve kisses your cheek, the corner of your eye, knowing it’ll make you happy. Your smile follows swiftly after, and he kisses that with gusto. “I don’t even like eggs,” he mumbles.

“You love eggs.”

“What was it like being the stay at home mom today?” he asks.

“Hard. But fun. Avery was being really nice to me all day, did you have something to do with that?”

“Avery’s always nice.”

Your smile widens impossibly, “Yeah, but she was asking me if I wanted to sit down and if I needed a glass of water all day.”

Steve shrugs. “Doesn’t sound like something I’d do.”

“Well don’t do it again, H. She’s just a baby. She doesn’t need to worry about me.”

Steve strokes your forehead, totally in your orbit. “She’s not worrying. Are you worrying about her when you take care of her? And sometimes you need a reminder.”

You chew it over. “Okay… you’re right. You win that one, Harrington. Mostly ‘cos I’m too tired.”

Steve always wins when he gets to slide into bed next to you. You push yourself over and bunch the kids up tighter. There’s not quite enough room for him. He feels as though he’s one little legged kick from falling back out, but he doesn’t mind, wrapping an arm around you and Avery where she’s sliding off of you and onto the mattress between you both. The poor girl is in a deep sleep, dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Steve wipes it away.

“You comfortable enough?” he asks.

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

He rests his head against yours on the pillows. “Missed you.”

“But you had fun, right?”

“It was great. I feel like I ran a marathon.”

“Exhausted?” you ask.

“And accomplished… You sure you’re okay? It was a long day by yourself. That stunt you pulled in the kitchen? Incredible.”

“I thought you’d like that. I told the girls you’d buy them a pony.”

“You did not.”

You laugh into his cheek. “No, I didn't, you caught me… I’m fine, really. I did miss you. It’s not nice, not seeing you. I’m used to a couple of hours, but it started feeling wrong when it was dark out, I… it’s silly but I was thinking about how horrible it would be if you never came back–”

Your pitch lifts up as Steve gasps and slaps a hand over your mouth (doesn’t slap, but covers, big hand on your lips and pressing them shut without sympathy).

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He meets your eyes, smiling hard despite the fatigue clinging to you both, and doesn’t buckle, even as you kiss his palm again. “Pregnancy brain is a scary thing.”

Your eyes turn to melting. He’s putty immediately, pulling your hand away to caress your cheek.

“Wanna be crazy in love in the morning?” he asks gently. You put your arm behind Avery’s back and smile as she snuggles into your ribs. Steve kisses your nose. “Go to sleep, honey. I can feel how tired you are. Back to normal in the morning.”

“Love you, Steve.”

“Love you, too.”

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caxde · 2 months

Text

yellow | steve harrington x reader

summary you're Dustin's older sister, you used to go out with Steve, but the distance broke you off, you're back in Hopkins, for good, and destiny makes you bump into eachother. (3.9k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn exes! to lovers, idiots in love!!!, mentions of alcohol use, english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read!

“Since when do you own this?” Dustin asked as he pulled a yellow crewneck out of one of the boxes.

“Oh, uh…” You hadn’t seen it in a while. It fell on your hands as Dustin gave it to you, the softness of the fabric still holds a reminder of his cologne. “It’s not mine, it’s Steve’s.”

He grew quiet for a second, looking at you intensely. They were still friends, Steve had seen him grow up, and was close to him, almost like a brother, and when you broke things off, you begged him to not leave him. He kept his promise, he always did.

“Sorry.” He muttered, an apologetic look stayed on his face even when he stopped looking at you, you shook your head. He didn’t need to apologise, not to you anyway.

“How is he?” The curiosity always took the best of you, and you had left quite some time ago, not really thinking about him. Running away so you wouldn’t have to think about a broken heart.

“I haven’t told him that you came back home.” Your little brother blurted out, with a grin on his face, letting you know he is really glad that you’re actually back, his way of telling you he’d missed you. “He’s doing good. He’s working, and he went back to studying… He’s happy.” He smiled back at you, seeing how your face was no longer expressing grief or melancholy, but a pleasant smile.

You were unsure of a lot of things, but one thing that you were certain of, he deserves all of the happiness in the world.

“That’s nice to know.” Your attention went back to the sweater. The coldness of the night he left it to you seemed to reach your fingertips, and the warmth of the memory reached your gut, butterflies that you thought dead flew for a second. “You should give it back to him.” You added, lifting your head up to look at him.

“You sure?” Even if he was the youngest, he always treated you in such a delicate manner, it made you softer, you had missed him.

“Yeah, it’s been long enough.” You chuckled as you said it, and he nodded along. You hadn’t been home in years, hadn’t seen him in two of those.

“I’m meeting him in a bit, I can give it to him then.” You nod, and he mouths a soft okey before leaving the room.

You had a moment, for the first time since you had arrived back home, where you were alone. No music, no noise, no one else with you.

You left so you could go to college, that was your excuse. Then he broke up with you, the distance only exposed other problems, in both of you. When you did break up, he told you that he still loved you, but it wasn’t enough.

The echo of his words still with you, it isn’t enough, am i not enough?

The sweetness of his voice shocked with his broken tone, tears fell from his eyes when he said goodbye. That was the last weekend you came down, and you had been avoiding coming back ever since.

The walls of your room were empty, the new coat of paint now dry, half full boxes of clothes and shoes and memorabilia were scattered around the floor, the bed half done, the cover still having to be put. It seemed like a new beginning, a new chance for yourself.

Not a lot of people knew you were back. Dustin knew, of course. It had been funny seeing him finally drive, his hands still a bit insecure behind the wheel, but he looked so happy being able to pick his sister from the airport, it had made you beam with happiness when you saw him.

And you had called Eddie as soon as you woke up today. He was ecstatic, begging you to come to a party tonight, telling you that he’d come pick you up as soon as his shift at the garage was done. You knew he’d missed you, even if he’d come often to the city, and vent over everything he had going on. Avoiding to bring him up, even if you did.

So you laid down on your floor, staring at the same ceiling you did as you grew up in that same house.

Before you were aware of what you were doing, or why, a pen rested on your hand, scribbling down on a piece of paper.

Hey, I’m sorry it took this long to give it back, guess I wasn’t ready to let you go. Maybe I’ll never be. I hope you’re happy, and that you have everything you deserve. I’m also sorry if it stinks of me, it has been with me for a while now. Bye.

PS. Don’t be a stranger. I’m here if you need me.

You signed it, and folded it one too many times before dropping it inside the little bag that had his sweater in it, the green clashing with the yellow fabric.

Dustin grabbed it before he left, you smiled when you heard that his car sounded the same.

Loud music, sweaty people and colorful lights.

Your drink was empty, it had been for a while.

Eddie smiled while he danced and took a sip of his drink, happy that you’re finally back, his head swinging back and forth. His attention was split, between you and an unknown blonde girl that was on the bar. You smiled when you caught her staring.

“You’ve got a fan Edds.” You chuckled as you teased him. Raising your voice so he could hear you.

“Who?”

“The blonde”

“I don’t think that’ll work.” He laughed, his shyness coming in as it always did when the attention was on him.

“I think it will if you actually go talk to her… buy her a drink?” You shake your head in her direction, he knows you’re actually telling him it’s okay, you can go, i’m okay.

“Sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll go to the other bar and get a drink, wait for you there.” He nodded, and you smiled as you saw him blush.

He looked back at her, he rubbed his chin in a nervous manner, before actually walking over to her. You laughed at him, smiling deeply seeing your friend acting the same he always had.

As you shook your head to yourself, stifling another laugh you left him on his own, Eddie flirted better when you weren’t around anyway. You started walking to the other bar area, the only problem, you had to find your way through the dance floor before you could reach it. You looked at the people there, all of them dancing mindlessly, some couples that had been formed, kissing or dancing together -it always made you smile, seeing people loving each other, publicly, without fear- and some doing what you were doing, looking around while downing their drink.

You were halfway through, when you saw him.

Everything else became fuzzy, the only clear image in your vision was him, wearing the yellow sweater.

Steve saw you too.

And time seemed to stop for a moment, and before it started again, there was a few seconds of slow motion. His hair flicking to the beat of the music, as his lips curved upwards at the sight of you, his eyes softening. He’d missed seeing you. He looks the same he did. You thought, though taller, broader, happier.

Before you knew it, you were face to face.

You didn’t say anything. You just looked at each other. Years of not seeing him, of avoiding him, it all didn’t matter now. His smile had the same effect on you as it always had, melting you on the spot. He broke the distance, and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in close for a hug, your arms laying behind his neck, your fingers stroking his hair.

I miss you.

“Hi.” Steve whispered into your ear. An excited but yet calm tone could be heard in his tone.

“Hi.” You whispered back, holding on to him for a second longer before pulling back.

“Dustin told me you came back.” He raised his voice now that your head was no longer close to him. “I didn’t think I’d see you today.”

“I can tell.” You joked, as you grabbed his sweater, and you saw him chuckle in response.

“D’you wanna go out? And talk?” He pointed at where the exit was. Of course you wanted to, you almost felt like you needed to. Hear his voice for once, not just remember it.

As soon as you nodded, he started to head out, grabbing your hand as he passed in front of you. The same tingling feeling comes back to you, as if it was the first time you went on a date with him. The excited nervousness, the hopefulness, the wishing.

Cold air hitted your chest, even if it was an unseasonably warm night, you blamed the alcohol because anything else would be too confusing, and you were really trying to not get too much into your head. Not now, when he was standing against the wall and his pretty brown eyes were fixed deep into yours.

“So, how have you been?” He broke the silence, and the moment of admiration between the both of you.

“Good.” You smile shyly to yourself. “I’ve been good.”

“How did the big city treat you?”

“Chicago is… Interesting.” You chuckled, as you scratched your forehead. He knew that was your anxious tick, the way you had when you had too many thoughts swimming around inside your mind. “Uh… You’d hate deep dish pizza.”

He laughed, and the little butterfly hidden in your stomach came alive again. Warmness and goosebumps on your skin.

“I did hate it.” He recalls, looking up for a moment, the street lights shining on him. He looks like a statue, you thought, unaware of how pretty he is.

“When did you try it?”

“I was waiting for one of your classes to end, got hungry and saw a little place that was selling them, disgusting.” He shook his head in a funny manner, it made you giggle, so he did it again, wanting to hear you again.

“I ended up liking it, y’know.”

“Of course you did.” He teased, a finger poking your cheek, your face leaning into his touch.

“You get used to it.” You shrugged, your hand reaching for your purse, searching for the pack of Marlboros you knew you had.

“You’re good at that.” He grinned as his eyes became softer, he couldn’t stop looking you up and down. “You’re good at everything.”

“‘M not.” You laughed as you took a cigarette out, placing it between your lips. “I still can’t cook as good as you can.”

“You miss my cooking?” He raised his eyebrows as he asked, a cheeky grin on his lips.

“I dream about those meatballs you made.” You confessed, trying to hide your truthfulness with a giggle, that he saw through. His head tilted back for a moment, as his Adam's apple moved as he sifted a laugh.

“D’you remember when I tried to teach you how to make Napolitanian pizza from scratch?” You started to laugh at the memory, failing to light your cigarette, hiding your face on the palm of your hand.

His heart started to beat again, louder, stronger, faster. If you weren’t too busy trying to quiet yours down, you’d hear it.

“God… I ended up covered in flour.”

“Your hair was all white.” His tone softented, as did his eyes. His body seemed to be closer to yours, itching for contact. “I missed that laugh.” He finally confessed, even if the thought had been on his mind since he first heard it that night.

“You did?”

“Yeah, I missed you too.”

It happened then. The wave of nervousness, relieved in an instance.

He missed me. Hemissed me. Hemissedme.

The excitement that came with it, the realisation that what you felt in some way was reciprocated. And that the complicated feelings were felt by the both of you.

“Really?” Your voice was full of hope, your eyes shining bright at him.

“Yeah.” He was blushing now, as he smiled. A wide upside down grin that made your stomach flutter. “Did you?”

“Of course I did.”

How could you not? He has been the best person that has ever stood by you. Even if things had ended, you could only remember the good times, the fun times, the soft ones. How loved he made you feel every single day. How wanted. How cared for.

“When we broke things off…” You started to rumble, as smoke escaped through your lips, finally having ignited the cig. “It wasn’t because I didn’t love you anymore.”

“I know.” He muttered, his tone letting it known that he had a knot in his throat. “I still loved you.”

“Yeah.” You looked up at him, your hand reaching for his, a needed familiar contact came back. “I needed to be okay.”

“Are you?” You knew he was worried about your answer, in a weird way, Steve never had stopped caring about you. And neither had you.

“I am.” You nodded, the curve your lips made made him know that you couldn’t be lying. “I don’t have panic attacks every night, I’m fine being on my own. Honestly.”

“I believe you.” His hand squeezed yours, the soft touch telling you he trusted you, implicitly. You felt yourself falling back into him. “And I’m proud of you, really.”

“I’m proud of you too.” You finally took a step closer to him, your legs touching and a love sick grin on both of your faces. “Dustin told me you’re studying.”

“Yeah well… I finally decided, I guess…”

Even if your attention was on nothing else but him, when the doors opened and people started to come back to the street, smelling of alcohol, smoke and sweat. A chattering invaded the quiet street, and your focus changed.

“Shit.” Your eyes were scanning the multitude, trying to find Eddie, or the blonde girl, or any of her friends.

“What?” Steve’s eyebrow furrowed again, not really knowing why the swarm of people had made your demeanor change. Your hand letting his go, your body taking a step back.

“I came with Edds… Do you see him?”

“Oh, you’re with him?” You scoffed at the question, rolling your eyes lightheartedly, as you shook your head no. Steve nodded as the smallest grin appeared. A relief appeared in his face, and you chuckled at his question and reaction.

“He’s a friend.” You still were trying to find him, people kept passing you by, taller, shorter and drunker. “D’you see him?”

“No.”

Steve left his hand on your shoulder, asking for your attention, knowing that you were getting into your head, and you were worrying too much too soon. And he also knew that once you felt his touch, your shoulders would relax and drop. Your mind stopped spinning.

“D’you remember where he parked?” As soon as he speaks you feel grounded. You nodded, and he replicated the movement. “We’ll wait for him there then, come on.”

You started walking, comfortable silence was one of your favourite things. Just knowing that he was there made you feel better, glancing at him from time to time, catching him staring at you everytime you did so. Making your lips curve everytime you catch him.

The van wasn’t there.

“Fuck.”

“He left?” His tone was a bit agressive now, not at you, if anything he just was protective, so in consequence he seemed pissed that he had left you stranded. Alone.

“I’m guessing he got lucky with the blonde.” You chuckled out of nervousness. Your hand playing with your hair, placing a strand of it behind your ear, trying to look everywhere but him. “S’fine, I’ll just call a taxi and wake Dustin up.”

“Shut up.” He scoffed, his arms crossing in front of his chest, looking down at you, a look of decision in his eyes. There was no way you were going home alone. “I’ll drive you, c’mon.”

“I don’t have my keys.” You mumbled. “Dustin has mine. I was supposed to sleep over.”

“Then you’ll sleep over. Let’s go.” His hand reached out, an invitation you weren’t sure you should take, but do anyway.

The car ride had been filled by music, and soft touches. Loving stares, and nervous chuckles.

It really did feel like old times.

It didn’t help that his house smelled the same, and time seemed to not move in the Harrington household.

The only difference was the most noticeable of them all. All of the family pictures had been put down.

“You changed it up.” You whispered as soon as you walked in, seeing the bare walls, were paint was darker where frames used to be.

“They don’t live here anymore. So…” You knew he wanted to tell you about it, just as much as you knew he didn’t want to talk about it now, so you just nodded, and he understood what you knew. Words weren’t even necessary.

“Who does?” You changed the topic, slightly, once you saw a jacket that wasn’t his hanged on the wall.

“Robin.” He smiled, his face relaxing and becoming brighter. “Her parents didn’t really get the whole… uh… liking girls things.”

“Right, how is she?” You had wanted to reach out to her, but you weren’t sure if she’d wanted to hear from you, you worried, and Steve’s voice echoed in your head you worry too much.

“She missed you.” He confessed with a smile, starting to climb up the stairs, finding his way to his bedroom, you followed him closely. “We all did, I guess.”

His head hung low for a second, remorse in his voice. Looking back at you for a moment before he turned on his bedroom light, his skin glistened under the moonlight that sneaked through his window. You smiled, seeing him in this light again, with the same background that you had becomed so familiar with once before.

His walls where still the same colour, and bedsheets were still stripped. It smelled and felt the same as it had always done, and for a moment -however brief- you were back in time.

You were eighteen again, and you were sneaking into his room for the first time again.

The orangy bedside table filled the room again, and Steve had his boyish grin that had made you fall in love with him all those years ago. He looked at you, fondly, lovingly, melancholically, as you looked around, noticing the new photos on the wall.

“Most of them are from Jonathan, some of them are your brother’s” You chuckled as you carefully looked at all of them, seeing what he had been up to.

Him working at Family Video with Robin, him with his hands on his hips, apron on and full of flour with a rag over his left shoulder. Him asleep on the back of Eddie’s van.

And your favourite one, Steve laing on your bed, looking straight through the camera, a smile that he was hiding behind his arm still evident by the way his face looks, barely woken up. You took that one, when he came to visit you, before you ended things.

“You looked really beautiful.” You whisper, a tone of sadness could be noted on your voice. But your body relaxed when you felt him stepping closer to yours.

“I don’t anymore?” He halved joked, the same lovesick look all over his face, his hair falling messily now that he had took his sweatshirt, hanging it back to you. A gesture that said you’re always cold before sleeping, you can wear it.

“Thanks.” You mutter before taking it, your body feeling his warmth through that piece of clothing. “You do. You always are.”

He stood there for a second, and you could tell he wanted to say something he didn’t quite have the courage to do so.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He answered, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed. You scoffed as you shook your head. He knew that you were saying don’t lie, i know you better than anyone. “Think I’m still drunk.”

“Maybe.” You admit with a half laugh, as you feel the weight of the alcohol that you did drink, and how it had swapped for tiredness not that the clock was closer to four. “You still have something in your mind.”

“Yeah.” He stepped closer to you. His voice was softer, quieter, sweeter. And his eyes couldn’t stop looking at yours. Well, that might have been a lie, he did look at your lips once or twice. His hand reached for yours, nervous that you might pull away. But you never did. You never could. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” You squeezed his hand tighter, wanting that gesture to make his frown disappear, but you only see his anxiousness shine for a second.

“I don’t know. Nothing? Everything?”

“You’re not making that much sense, Stevie.” It had slipped out, the old nickname. You felt a bit embarrassed until you saw him smile. A true deep fond smile.

“I know, honey.” His didn’t, he chose to say it. The dopiest grin that made your heart skip a beat came back, while his fingers played with yours. You could feel the warmness of your cheeks staying there. “I just… I meant everything I said, when we were together.”

“What-?”

He interrupted you, too iger to let you know what he had been thinking since he saw you through the club lights and the sea of drunk people.

“I told you, you were the one I love. It hasn’t changed. I’ve tried, believe me. I tried to stop loving you, and move on, and be with someone else, anyone, but they never came close to you. Nobody knows me like you do, nobody can read me like you do, and I don’t think I can love anyone else like I have loved you.”

With every word, with every breath your body came closer to his, excitement and electricity growing with every word that reached your ears, you couldn’t really believe that it was really happening.

And you weren’t conscious about what you were doing before you did. You just knew that your right hand was tangled with his, and that your left one was cupping his cheek, looking fondly at his eyes before closing the distance between your lips.

They were as soft as you remembered. And he still tastes the same as he did.

You enjoyed it, for as long as you could, your heart beating as one, as your breathing synchronized, and his neediness became yours. Your kiss, this gesture, was enough, more than words could even say.

“I haven’t stopped.” Your voice comes out lower, softer, quieter than you intended to. Your forehead pressed to his. Your eyes still closed, enjoying the way your breathing was mixing with his.

“Thank god.” He giggled as he pulled you close once again.

The second kiss was longer than the first one, but it still made your heart flutter, and your skin warming up in familiar desire. His free hand found his way to your waist, holding you closely, afraid that if he opens his eyes you might disappear.

“We can talk about us, tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

You buried his head on his chest, as he pushed you closer to him. A warm hug that you didn’t want to see the end of, a closeness that you’d missed, and that you hoped you didn’t have to miss again.

The promise that tomorrow you’d wake up next to him again, and his warmth wrapping you up under the sheets let you actually rest for once.

if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3

requests! are open

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thelostmagicians · 6 months

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Love Comes In Threes | Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve Harrington loves you, he just can't say it. [2k]

Fluff, comfort, slight angst, emotionally/verbally constipated Steve

♡

The last time Steve Harrington said I love you to someone she ripped out his heart and left with the boy she told him not to worry about.

He doesn’t remember the last time he said it to his parents, only that he stopped trying after he kept getting the dial tone in response to his feelings.

So you weren’t exactly surprised or upset when he kissed you instead of saying it back 6 months into your relationship.

The first time you said I love you to Steve it was a stormy evening. The both of you agreed to take things slow, wounds from the past still open and healing. But he just looked so handsome that night with his hair tousled in a perfect mess, red creeping on his cheeks from the cold air as the both of you raced towards his car trying to protect yourselves from the rain. He turned the heat on as he took your hands in his in an effort to warm you up. You tried to hold it in, you swear you did, but the love you had for him weighed down on you like an anchor and you thought if you didn’t tell him that second you were going to drown in your own feelings.

“I love you,” you had whispered as he continued rubbing his fingers over yours. He paused his actions, shyly looking up. The red on his cheeks could no longer be blamed on the cold because now he was feeling as the sun was glowing warm in his heart.

“You sure?” he asked you. Instead of answering you kissed him, hoping your lips would act as a spout and pour how you felt directly into him.

You knew that like you, Steve had been hurt in the past so when he pulled you in for another kiss instead of saying it back you never questioned him.

But that was a year ago.

Almost two years into the relationship and Steve still hasn’t said I love you back. Every time he hears it fall from your lips, he’ll just give your hand a squeeze and carry on. You want to think it isn’t a big deal. You try to convince yourself that the L word isn’t necessary in your relationship, not when you share a home, a bed, secrets, and, hopefully, a family in the future. But no matter how hard you try to ignore your feelings it still leaves you disappointed when you see couples everywhere throw the three words around like they’re playing catch. It’s an endless cycle of disappointment for not hearing it, guilt for questioning the love Steve has for you, and frustration for why it mattered so much.

“As someone who Steve previously loved, do you think he actually loves me or is he just… settling?”

Your question makes Nancy freeze, the book she was previously trying to shove back in the shelf falls with a loud thud. She throws an apologetic smile at the librarian who shakes her head in disapproval.

“What are you even talking about?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I brought it up. But I was just thinking, Steve loved you Nance. He told you he loved you. It’s been years and people still remember how broken he was after you left. Like if I left would he be just as sad or would he be okay.”

“Are you planning on leaving Steve?” Nancy stutters out.

“Well no…definitely no. It just makes me wonder if people can see that Steve loves me or if they think of me as the passerby keeping him from you while you were the one that got away. Whenever I tell someone I’m dating Steve all I ever hear is good on him for moving on, poor thing was a wreck after Nancy Wheeler left.”

Nancy picks up her stack of books as she leads you to the front desk, “Look what Steve and I had was over before we both even realized it was over. He loves you, I think… I think he loves you more than he could’ve ever loved me. And why do you even care what people think? These are the same people who think Robin is a sinner and that my parents are happily married.”

You roll your eyes in affection as you help her with her books. “I guess you’re right…” you trail off as your eye catches a magazine. In big bold letters you read 100 Different Signs Your Man Loves You.

“Oh please you can’t be serious.”

You give her a sheepish smile as you check out your rental and head back home.

The magazine was utter trash. It had nothing, but surface value declarations that did nothing to soothe your worries. You stopped reading after sign 8 when it said Ladies if your man compliments your cooking, then it means he’s thinking about locking it down! Because remember a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach!

Your Steve wasn’t like this. Your Steve was the kind of guy who knew you were having a bad day before you even had the chance to tell him. Your Steve was the kind of guy who would willingly wake up early and go out into snow just to heat up your car so you won’t have to drive in the cold.

You sigh as you toss the magazine in the back of the car making a mental note to drop it off at the library on your way to pick up Robin for your girls day.

You honk twice in front of Vickie’s house before Robin comes bolting down the driveway, shoes in hand and trying to wrestle her jacket on. She gives you a wave before climbing in and greeting you with a tight hug.

“I see your sleepover went well,” you tease.

Before she can tease back Vickie knocks on the window prompting Robin to roll it down.

“Hi, Vickie” you smirk up at her, eyes darting to the purple bruise under her ear that she poorly tried to conceal with makeup.

She waves shyly, “Robin… I forgot to say,” she looks at you nervously, “Nevermind, just I’ll see you tomorrow.” She quickly kisses Robin’s cheek and scurries back inside.

“So… what was that whole thing with Vickie about?” you try to ease in.

Robin bumps her head on the window when you pull into a parking spot, “Oh Vickie? She’s still nervous about saying the L word publicly so that’s what she was doing.”

“At least she’s saying it privately,” you huff under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing, I was just asking how she says it in public if she isn’t comfortable?”

“You know the cheek kisses she gave, that was it.”

You quickly put the shirt you’re holding back on the rack before looking at Robin confused. “What do you mean, is that your guys’ secret language?”

Robin laughs, pulling up a skirt to herself. “No silly, haven’t you ever heard the saying love comes in threes. When you touch someone three consecutive times it’s the equivalent of I. Love. You. Hence three cheek kisses equal an I love you.”

“That’s so cute,” you squeal, squeezing her arm and testing it out for yourself.

She squeezes back instantly, “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it, considering Steve’s the one that introduced me to it.”

Your steps falter behind her. “Hang on, Steve? My Steve, told you that?”

“Yeah, he said his Nana used to do it when they were kids or something like that. Told me before I told Vickie I loved her. Do you think this skirt is cute or should I save my money for a Madonna tape?”

Robin keeps rambling as you stay in place, your thoughts spiraling. Her confession makes you think about every single time Steve’s ever touched you. Every morning before you part ways how he pecks your lips once, twice, and a little longer the third time. How he squeezes your waist three times when he walks past you to get his favorite mug. How he reaches for your thigh, hand, anything he can get ahold of just to get three squeezes in. How he taps your arm in his sleep, again always in threes. You would stay up trying to figure out what song his taps represent before eventually drifting off yourself.

This whole time you were waiting for Steve to verbally express his love when he was doing it quietly in his own way, more often than you ever did.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel a tear slowly drip down your neck.

“Hey what’s wrong are you okay?” Robin asks frantically. She drops her bags, hands squeezing your arms and eyes darting around for any signs of danger.

You nod through your tears, “I’m okay, can we just go. I have to get home, I know it’s crazy but…”

Robin nods, grabbing your arm and leading you to the exit.

The car ride back home is quiet, Robin didn’t even whisper a goodbye when she left simply settling with a quick peck to your forehead and soft smile.

Your thoughts feel overwhelming like everything is going a mile a minute when you think about Steve. You think about your first date, your second, and your third and so on. How Steve ended every night with three of something.

Your body is on autopilot as you make your way through the front door. Keys tossed in the bowl, coat hung up, and shoes thrown off.

“Hey baby, you alright? Robin called asking if you were okay.” A concerned Steve comes into your vision, he quickly wipes his hands on the kitchen towel before flinging it over his shoulder and kissing you. Once, twice, and thrice.

Your hard stare makes him nervous, he’s never seen you like this before. “Honey,” he whispers out.

You take a deep breath in, “You never said I love you to me, not after I said it first, not even when you asked me to move in.” You pause trying to compose yourself while Steve avoids your gaze. “This whole time I thought you didn’t love me like you should, that you loved me, but you weren’t in love with me.”

Steve lifts his head up, baffled, he goes to argue until you lift your hand up signaling him to wait.

“Robin told me something about how love comes in threes, today. How three taps, or any kind of touch in rapid succession three times is the equivalent of an I love you,” he finally meets your gaze as you slowly walk over to him, tugging on his waist to hold him as close as possible. “You told me you loved me on our first date, you told me the night we had our first kiss, you told me on our anniversary. And you tell me everyday. I don’t think there’s an hour that goes by without you telling me.”

Steve pulls you into his chest before gently lifting your head and kissing you three times. You giggle at the not-so-secret-anymore gesture. “I’m trying. I really am trying hard to say it, but I do. I really do. I want you to know how important you are, but I’m also scared. So I guess this was my way of saying it, reminding myself that when I do eventually say the words… you won’t leave.”

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry for not seeing your love. For not understanding that even though you love me quietly you love me the most. Your love is in the tiny but grand gestures that I take for granted, but would miss deeply if I didn’t have it. I don’t need the words anymore Steve, I just need you because you love me more than I ever thought was possible and that’s enough. You’re enough.”

He squeezes your shoulder three times before whispering the words you’ve always wanted to hear from him.

They say love comes in threes and your love with Steve may be quiet, but it’s everywhere.

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reputationmunson · 1 year

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Bad Habit | Eddie Munson x Harrington!Reader

[3.0k]

Summary: your brother’s friend has a bad habit of sneaking into your bedroom

Content: Smut (18+ ONLY), AFAB!reader, r is Steve’s adopted sister and is a year younger than him, making out, grinding, oral/fingering (f receiving), virgin!reader, some pet names, fluff, two dummies in love <3

part two

The first time Eddie climbed through your bedroom window, you thought he was just trying to scare you. You had no idea you’d end that night in Eddie Munson’s lap desperately making out and barely giving in to the need for air.

Now, it’s a part of your nightly routine. It’s pretty simple.

Step 1: Get ready for bed

Step 2: Say goodnight to your naive brother

Step 3: Triple check that your door is locked and let in the cute boy patiently waiting outside your window

Sneaking around with Eddie made you feel alive. He sees you for who you really are.

Everyone else sees you as the quiet, innocent girl that occupies the corner of a room while your eyes wander, observing the people around you. While there’s nothing wrong with those things, Eddie knew you were much more than that and he was the perfect person to help you break out of your shell.

People expect you to be just like your brother. But when you turned out to be the complete opposite, no one paid much attention to you. As much as you loved Steve, being in his shadow made you feel invisible.

You weren’t much of a partier and you weren’t… friendly like Steve was. And by friendly you meant a little slutty. It was hard to get out there and make more friends let alone date anybody.

You were so drawn to Eddie from the moment you met him and ever since that first night he snuck into your room, you felt your walls start to come down and he’s the only person that doesn’t make that scary.

——————————————————————————

Three taps on your window alert you that Eddie’s outside. You scurry over to let him in and greet him with a quick peck on the lips. Your arms wrap around his neck and his hands find your waist, pulling you a step closer to him.

“Hey, gorgeous” He says with his signature smirk on his face.

“Hi’ You reply, shyly. Even though Eddie helps you out of your comfort zone, you can’t help but avert eye contact whenever he compliments you.

Every time you do, Eddie puts his hand under your chin and gently tilts your head up. “Don’t hide from me, pretty girl” He loves making you bashful almost as much as he loves kissing you.

Eddie guides you to your bed, never breaking eye contact. He falls backwards and pulls you down with him, making you giggle.

“I missed you” He whispers quietly, like he’s scared you’ll hear him being vulnerable. “I missed you, too.” Usually you would make a joke like “yeah it’s been a whole twenty-four hours. How did you survive?” But you always miss him.

You can’t exactly tell him you wish you could shrink yourself to three inches tall so you can live in his pocket and never be apart, so you cover it up with humor. But right now, there’s nothing funny about the way your heart is beating because of the way he’s looking at you. Like you’re the only girl in the world.

Eddie likes to tease you. He thinks it’s cute that you whine when he doesn’t immediately give you what you want. He knows it's a little mean but it makes him feel wanted and being wanted by you is the best thing he’s ever experienced.

His nose brushes yours and you think he’s going to put his lips on yours, but instead he gives you a soft kiss on your cheek. Then on your forehead. And one on both corners of your mouth.

“Eddiieeee” You whine and he chuckles. “What, baby?” He asks like he has no clue what he’s doing to you. So as expected, you do your signature pouty face and he has to act like it doesn’t affect him as much as it actually does.

You decide you can’t wait anymore. You take his face in your hands and lean in to get what you’ve been waiting for all day.

His hand comes up to grab a hold of your wrist. You worry he's going to remove your hands from his face, but he just keeps his hand on your wrist, rubbing it lovingly with his thumb. His other hand goes to rest on your lower back, sliding under your shirt. The feeling of his big hand on the bare skin of your back sends shivers down your spine.

Eddie’s tongue swipes across your bottom and you open your mouth to grant him access. He brings the hand that’s holding your wrist to where his other hand rests on your lower back. Both hands begin to slide up your back, making your shirt ride up all the way to your shoulder blades.

You let out a small gasp, suddenly feeling exposed. “You okay?” Eddie asks, worried by your reaction to your shirt being halfway off. You hum in response and find his lips again.

For the past month, you and Eddie hadn’t gone further than messily making out and clothed dry humping. It’s not that you don’t want to go further. You want nothing more than to rip his clothes off and then have him do the same to you, but you worry that your lack of experience would turn him off.

It was no secret to Eddie that you were a virgin. Considering he was your first kiss since Bobby Hopkins in the third grade and how nervous you got around him, it wasn’t that hard to piece together. Of course he wants to be your first time, but doesn't want to pressure you. If things never went any further and he had to go home and jerk off after every makeout session, he would happily do so.

After a while, you pull back for air and roll off of Eddie, laying on your side to look at him. He rolls on his side to look at you. “Hi” He speaks up, scooting closer to you. “Hi” You place a kiss on the tip of his nose. His hand comes up to rest on your hip and you cover his hand with your own.

Neither of you speak a word. You just stare into each other's eyes with lovesick smiles on your faces and soak in each other's presence. These nights are your favorite. Everytime you all hang out in a group, you ache to touch him. It’s difficult to keep your hands off one another, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make if it means keeping your brother from killing Eddie.

Eddie’s about to say something but before he can, there’s a knock at your door. “y/n?’’ Steve calls out your name from the other side of your bedroom door. Your eyes widen and both of you freeze. Steve says your name again and you know he isn’t going away until you respond.

“Y-yeah?” You barely get out. Steve tries to open your door and sounds offended when it doesn’t open. “Why the hell is your door locked?” He’s still wiggling the doorknob. “Because I’m allowed to lock it. How can I help you?” Eddie snorts at this and you glare at him.

“Do you have my walkman?” You can’t help but roll your eyes at this question. “No, I don’t have your walkman. I have my own walkman that I got on the same Christmas that you got yours. I’ll help you look in the morning.” You hear Steve huff dramatically and walk away.

“I’m gonna put on some music” You say before rolling off your bed. “Play my favorite?” Eddie requests. You were going to play his favorite anyway.

Once the music starts, you turn around and see Eddie playing air guitar. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. You don’t move from where you're standing. You just stay put and watch him act like a total idiot. He’d act like an idiot for the rest of his life if it meant making you smile.

He finishes his air guitar solo and looks over at you and tilts his head. “C'mere,” He says, motioning for you to sit next to him.

Once you get to the bed, you crawl towards him and straddle his lap. Feeling hot and bothered, you place your hands on his shoulders and start to grind down on him. Eddie lets out a sigh and throws his head back to rest on your headboard.

Feeling bold, you take his chin in your hand and move his head so he’s looking at you. He puts his hands on your hips and encourages you to move faster.

You can feel him getting hard and you let out a small moan. Eddie puts a hand on the back of your head and pushes you closer to him, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss.

You’re moaning into each other's mouths and it feels so good, but you need more. You pull away from him and take a second to catch your breath, thinking of how you want to word what you’re about to say.

Eddie can tell you want to tell him something. “What is it, baby?” He brings a hand to your face and rubs his thumb back and forth on your cheek. Your heart swells at how well he knows you.

“I was wondering if we could take things a bit further tonight.” You respond and his smile widens. “Hell yeah we can. You sure?” You can’t nod fast enough.

“Lay on your back for me. Don’t be scared to tell me if you want me to stop, kay?”

“Okay” You smile and roll onto your back.

Eddie hovers over you and leans down to give you a quick peck on the lips. Then he starts to kiss down your jaw and to your neck. He starts with light kisses and when he hits the sensitive spot on your neck, he kisses harder. He starts to suck on your sensitive spot, making you moan.

Usually, you both steer clear hickeys to avoid questionings from any of your friends and your brother, especially. But right now, you’re so turned on you can’t find it in yourself to care. You wrap your arms around his back and push his full weight onto you. He licks and kisses at the fresh mark.

“Fuck, that feels nice” You moan out. “Want me to do something even better?” He pulls back and smirks at you. “Please.”

He goes to tug at the hem of your shirt and looks at you for approval. Once you give it to him, he removes your shirt and is pleased to see that you aren’t wearing a bra. He looks up at you and raises his eyebrows. “What? No sane woman wears a bra to bed.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Trust me, I am not complaining.”

He goes back to kissing your neck. His kisses start moving down to your chest and he plants one on each of your breasts before taking one of your nipples in his mouth.

It feels…different, but in the best way possible. “Eddie, that feels so good” You’re trying to keep quiet but you’re feeling things you’ve never felt before.

“Say my name again”

“Do something that will make me say your name again”

You can tell he’s surprised at that.

“Challenge accepted”

He kisses down your stomach and puts his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. At a torturously slow place, he pulls your shorts down and throws them on the floor. “No panties either? Is it my birthday, sweetheart?” You laugh and roll your eyes. “Get back to it, Munson” You say in the most unserious tone ever. “Jeez, okay. Someone’s bossy”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you, uh, take your shirt off too? This feels unfair”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to take off his shirt.

“Maybe your pants too?”

“Anything for you” And he means it.

He stands up to take off his pants. Once they’re off you can see how hard he is and your jaw drops. Your clit throbs at the sight and you involuntarily whine.

Eddie sits on his knees, placing himself in between your legs. “I’m gonna touch you now, okay?” “Eddie, please. Need you” you mewl.

He runs a finger through your folds and groans at how wet you are. “All this for me, baby?”

You nod “Just for you. Always”

“Tell me, pretty girl. Do you ever touch yourself and think of me?” He starts to slowly rub your clit. Your eyes roll back and you slap your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. “Tell me or I’ll stop” You remove your hand from your mouth and try to keep quiet. “Yes. Every night after you leave”

He starts rubbing your clit a little faster and you start to lose composure. “What do you think about?”

“I think about you touching me. Just like this. Or going down on me. I think about your cock inside me. Fucking me until I can’t take it anymore” You admit. “Hmm. I think we could start to make some of those fantasies realities”

He removes his fingers from your clit and you feel like you’re gonna pass away if he doesn’t make you cum any time soon. “Eddie, please don’t stop. pleasepleaseplease. Touch me again” You feel desperate for begging, but lucky for you, Eddie is even more turned on than before.

He doesn’t say anything. He just lays down between your legs, admiring how wet you are. You’re about to beg some more but then he starts to run his tongue up and down your folds. “Oh my god”

He begins to suck your clit and it feels so fucking good you can’t believe it. Sure, you’ve heard your friends talk about it, but you never would’ve imagined it feeling this good.

Your eyes start to tear up and you look down at Eddie, letting out a moan when you see how much he’s enjoying it.

Your fingers thread through his hair and pull it a little, making him moan into your pussy. You swear you feel the vibrations throughout your entire body. You don’t think it can get any better until Eddie slowly inserts a finger into you. You would have expected it to feel uncomfortable, but there's nothing unpleasant about it. “More, Eds” You plead.

He thinks about teasing you for a second, but he knows how badly you want it. He obliges and inserts another finger, reaching that spot you can never reach on your own.

You can feel the tension building in your stomach and Eddie starts going faster. His fingers are pumping in and out of you and you can hear how wet you are. He’s eating you out like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Eddie can’t help rutting up against the mattress. The way your pussy feels and the noises you make are driving him fucking mad. Both of you swear you’ve died and gone to heaven.

It hits you like a fucking bus. Your back is arching off the bed and you have to cover your face with your pillow because it’s impossible to keep quiet. You’ve never been more thankful that you don’t share a wall with Steve.

Eddie works you through your orgasm and slowly takes his fingers out of you when you're finished. You look lifeless and he can’t help but chuckle at how blissed out you look. He slowly crawls next to you and lays down,

“You alright?” He whispers.

“Well, I feel like I left my body for a second so I would say I’m more than alright.”

“Good. So you had fun?” Eddie sounds insecure. You turn to look at him before you respond.

“Eddie, were you not there? I was losing my mind. I had no idea it could be that good” You give him a well-deserved ego boost and he flashes his million dollar smile. “Okay, your turn.” You say, eagerly. “Don’t worry, babe. I came in my boxer like a goddamn teenager.” His cheeks turn red and you give him a kiss on the cheek. “Next time?” you ask. “Definitely”

You lay your head on his chest and he wraps an arm around you. “Thank you” You say, snuggling as close as possible. “For what?” He starts to rub your back. “Everything. My life’s better with you in it’’ Eddie’s heart nearly bursts. He can’t believe he’s improved your life even a little bit.

“Anything for my girl” He kisses the top of your head. Your lift your head up and look at him with the biggest smile on your face “Your girl?” Eddie tries to play it cool “Yeah, if that’s something you’d be interested in.” You can’t think of anything else you’d rather be. “Only if you agree to be my boyfriend.” “Hm.. can I think about it?” You playfully smack his chest. He grabs your hand and kissed it, looking into your eyes.

“How about you agree to be my girlfriend and I’ll agree to be your boyfriend and everyone’s happy”

“Deal, boyfriend” You can’t resist the urge to kiss him any longer. He hums in appreciation and the kiss goes on longer than intended.

“I should probably get going” He sighs. “Nooooo” you protest, holding on to him tighter. “I know, but I gotta unless you want to risk your overprotective brother finding out I’m here” You know he’s right and you move allowing him to get up. He hands you the clothes thrown on the floor and you both get dressed.

“Maybe I can stay with you tomorrow night? I can tell Steve I’m staying with a friend.” You move to stand in front of Eddie. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He smiles and pulls you in for a hug.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” You nod and he gives you one last kiss.

You watch him climb out of your window and after you shut it, you stare out your window to watch him run out of your yard. He turns around to give you a wave and being the wonderful girlfriend that you are, you decide to flash him. Without hesitation, Eddie lifts his shirt up and flashes you back, causing you to laugh a little too loud.

There’s no doubt in your mind that this is the man you’re going to spend your life with.

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x harrington!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #18+ fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb

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trophyclown · 6 months

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Please stop using AFAB if you just mean cis female.

I’ve noticed more and more writers are misusing the term AFAB and using it as a shorthand to say the reader is a cis women. This is a bit disheartening to see as the term was coined specifically to include trans and nonbinary people. AFAB is purely a physical description and has no bearing on the gender of the reader. It’s a gender neutral term. So please tag accordingly. Continuing to use it like this just further alienates trans people from a word made to include us. Please, just tag female if that’s what you mean.

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myosotisa · 10 months

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Take a Seat - s.h.

ǁ summary: What exactly did you think was going to happen when you let King Steve into your bedroom?

ǁ tags: smutty blurb, afab!reader, no y/n, nicknames are sweetheart and baby. King Steve is the King Tease.

ǁ word count: 900

"Hey sweetheart?"

You barely look up from where you're pouring over the textbook on your desk. "Hmm?"

There's a small shuffle from your friend Steve adjusting on your bed, most likely to face you. "Can I ask you something?"

Glancing back at him with your eyebrows drawn together, you catch a glimpse of his impish smile that he's attempted to make look sweet before you return to your book. "Sure?"

"Can I fuck you into your mattress?"

The world spins from how fast you twist toward him, hand gripping the back of your chair tightly as all the blood rushes to your head. "Excuse me?!"

A lazy smile tilts his mouth, eyes shining with mischief as he repeats with slow pauses for effect, "Can I… fuck you… into your mattress?"

Your jaw drops, mouth opening and closing like a fish as you struggle to force out words. "I heard you the first time, I was just giving you a chance to say something else."

"Come on," he leans back onto his palms, thighs spreading with his socks firmly on the floor. The traitorous part of your brain he's awakened looks at the space between his thighs, at the empty seat of his denim covered lap and thinks that's a perfect spot for me. "Like you've never thought about it?"

"I…" Eyes drying from staring at him in shock, you manually force a few blinks as you swallow hard. "This feels like a trick question."

"I bet you have," he says in a sigh, adjusting on the bed with what seems like a very intentional thrust of his hips upward. He adjusts to hold most of his weight on one hand, the other making a little walk up toward where your blanket meets your pillow. "I bet you've laid right here on these sheets… Hand tucked into your pretty little panties and whimpered my name."

The visual has your gut twisting, warmth spreading from between your thighs and outwards. Your face is burning hot as your eyes flick from his hand to his face to his lap and back again. "I don't – I don't understand what's happening right now."

Steve has never, ever shown any interest in you. While you've only been friends for a little while, he was known for his conquests around school. Everyone knew how they went. When he approached you, entirely friendly, asking for a study partner, you'd known it didn't fit his pattern. This wasn't how he came onto the other girls at school.

"What's not to get?" He asks teasingly, the tips of his thick fingers hooking on the top of your blanket just to shift it down a few inches. "It'd be fun."

And while the visual part of your brain talks directly to the throb of feeling in your clit explaining just how fun it would be, your thinking brain is still fighting tooth and nail against something you hadn't considered a possibility anymore.

"Why are you doing this, Steve?" I'm not your type, your mind tacks on. This feels like some kind of cruel joke, it warns.

"Because, baby," he's shifting again, upper body pressing forward as he rests either palm on his spread knees, "I like to play with my food before I eat it."

Brain coming to a grinding halt from its anxious frenzy, all that remains is a cycling repeat of his statement and the reactionary shiver it sent down your spine. “Your… food?”

This seems to make him huff a laugh, shaking his head. For such a smart girl, it made his dick twitch in his pants at how easy it is to throw you off balance, how quick you're going dumb for him. “Yes, sweetheart. Now are you going to let me keep playing? Or should I leave you alone with that wet spot that’s already on your panties?”

Your head ducks down in alarm, thinking you’re exposed to him in some way, only to see your pants still perfectly in place. When you look back up to retort, the cheeky grin on his face informs you that your reaction told him everything he needed to know. “You! I’m not!”

Taking a deep breath, shoulders rising and then falling lower than they were before as you try to release some of the sudden tension in your body. "How would we even...?"

The sudden shyness, your nervous hesitation, makes his cock throb again, one of his hands instinctively pressing down on the growing tent in his tight jeans. It nearly makes him groan at how heavily your eyes track the movement before quickly looking away with an almost inaudible squeak. “Don’t worry your big brain about it. Just come over here and let me show you.”

The way you stare at him for just a little too long, looking like a deer in headlights, makes him think maybe he came about this the wrong way. Maybe you’ll bolt like a scared rabbit. But then you silently push yourself to stand and take a few hesitant steps toward him, not quite entering the space between his spread thighs.

That Harrington charm comes through his encouraging smile, his voice a cooing murmur when he says, “Good girl.” Your thighs press together subconsciously and he delights in the new reaction. “Now take a seat,” he insists with a pat to the inside of one of his thighs. “I’ve got a spot right here with your name on it.”

thanks for reading! please reblog and leave a reaction if you liked it :)

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emsgoodthinkin · 6 months

Text

18+

“Oh.. hell yea baby bounce on it”

You and Steve have been together for 5 months now. Met in college, specifically art class, he was forced to take an elective, anything for him to graduate. That’s when he saw you in the middle of the room.. naked. Well kinda, there was a long white sheet wrapped around you. Figure drawing was that days subject.

You seemed happy? Not at all flustered having all eyes on you, Steve was a bit intimidated, not only because of how beautiful you looked and all, but everything about you made the whole room glow. And made the bulge in his pants grow.

After class he was the last one out, he wanted to talk to you, little were you aware he was stuck behind in the room; that’s when you dropped the sheet to put your clothes back on. You both screamed in sync and he scrambled out of the door faster than you could’ve blinked.

Later that afternoon, you seen him in the library and came up to him to talk about the book he was reading. He was surprised you didn’t mention the incident, and since then you two hit it off.

He knew you were a virgin, so heavy make out sessions, mutual masturbation and lots of oral was the base of your guys relationship.

You woke up, extremely needy and horny. No vibrator or dildo could sedate your craving other than Steve. He wanted to take his time with you, telling you that you’ll know when the time is right. He made a mistake years ago losing his to quickly so in his terms, he’s doing you a favor. In your terms, he’s torturing you.

You swear he gets off on it.

You’ve been rubbing your pussy up against your hand every five seconds at work, coaxing him through sexy texts and lewd photos. Trying to give him the heads up you’re ready for him to finally fuck you. Or “make love” as he’d exclaim. same shit

He’s usually arrived home by the time you get off of work and today, you were definitely worked; panties have been sticking to your cunt since 10 this morning

“I need you now!” you shout kicking your shoes off and tossing your bag elsewhere, meanwhile, he’s wide-eyed, staring at you with a mouth full of cereal

“Pardon?”

“Steve baby please I love you so much but I need your cock in me right now, I’ve been so horny all day, I mean I can literally smell myself through my own pants right now,” you admit ridding him of the bowl, climbing into his lap, immediately grinding your hips

He scoffs.

“Baby we’ve been through this.. damn, really can smell it huh?” he replies cursing himself, biting his lip, “I thought we were going to wait? you know I want it to be special for you”—

“and it will be, please I promise I’m ready” you pout

The heavy feeling of you has him already babbling.

—“just like that baby, bounce it a little bit — y-yeah that’s it there we go,” he strains bucking, his hips up into yours, cock fully solid

“yeah? like that daddy?”—

“Don’t! Stop that.. fuck, don’t call me that, you know what that does to me”

“what does it do hm?” you lean down to nip his ear, “does it make you wanna fuck my brains out?”

He growls, moving your hips faster “What the fuck are you doing? Why are you doing this to me, fuck! keep bouncin, keep boucin that hot pussy on my dick sweetheart oh— shit”—

“Come on Stevie you know you want it, you’ve been dying to feel my pussy squeeze it, anytime with you will be s-speacial, just.. PLEASE!” you, almost in tears, begging; your thighs are burning the faster and harder you grind

“Ahhh, fuck it, get up!”, he demands angrily and eagerly ripping your pants and soaked panties off—

“Open those fuckin legs, ill make ya feel real special tonight”

reblogs appreciated

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rowanswriting · 4 months

Text

(nsfw thought)

Want him to hold me on his lap, his strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against his firm chest. His other hand wrapped lightly around my throat, not enough to really do anything, but enough to make me whine and squirm against him. He’s snickering behind me, holding onto me tighter and not letting me get the pleasure that I’m seeking for so desperately. “Nu-uh honey, if you want to cum tonight you have to be good for me, you’re going to sit here and listen to me describe all the dirty things I’ve been thinking about you. I won’t fuck you until you’ve absolutely soaked your clothes.” My eyes roll into the back of my head at his words, I can feel his heart beating against the back of my chest. The bulge in his pants rutting up against my ass, letting me know he wants me just as bad as I want him.

#eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #joel miller smut #rafe cameron smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie x afab smut #simon ghost x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #anakin smut

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year

Text

Bad Idea - s.h. x f!reader

note: thank you to @crappymixtape for the initial prompt that started this fun little fic. <3

summary: steve happens upon you while you're reading a smutty book and chaos ensues.

warnings: oral (f receiving); p in v smut -- that's all, really (18+); barely edited, slightly rom-com vibes, so do not take this seriously (haha).

“I got a bad idea. How 'bout we take a little bit of time away?”

A fan blows in the distance. The low hum is a constant drone, offset by the sounds of your quiet breathing and the gentle turn of a yellowed page in your book. You’ve been sitting in your window nook for hours, the weather too hot outside to linger for too long.

Your fingers halt on your current page, eyes glancing out your bedroom window.

Summer burns bright outside. The sky is a bright blue, smiling down on all those who thrive beneath it, its golden sun winking on full display. Your bedroom window is parted enough to allow air to filter in, the sounds of birds chirping greeting your ears. Across the yard is the Harrington backyard. Their pool glints blue and bright beneath you, lounge chairs filled by his parents now back from whatever business trip they’d been on, glasses of champagne already in hand.

Steve’s mother soaks up the sun, all long, lean legs, wide brim sun hat, oversized glasses, and the diamond ring on her finger that seems gargantuan even from here. You catch the sight of his father, stark dark hair like his son’s, leaning over to press a kiss to his wife’s lips before settling down on the chair beside her.

Steve’s nowhere to be found, but you know that’s always the case when they’re home. He’s likely on an errand, trying to stay away from the home, trying to cut all interactions to a bare minimum. Because he’s twenty-two and still working at Family Video, he’s twenty-two and should have more in his savings, should be taking on the family business, should be thinking about his future, should be—

Your attention is drawn by the sound of children’s laughter. The neighbor’s kids have shoddily drawn a hopscotch grid onto the ground, the sound of their sneakers knocking against the warm concrete audible even over the low hum of the cars that slowly slide on past.

And there, in front of your home, you catch the all too familiar sight of Steve’s BMW, and that pretty head of dark hair as he clambers out the driver’s side door, sunglasses perched atop the bridge of his nose.

Your eyes return to your book, knowing you have approximately sixty seconds until he’s in your bedroom and making himself at home. The main characters, two best friends oddly enough, are about to finally cross over a line of no return. You’ve read it enough times to know what comes next.

Nathan will tell Cora he loves her and she’ll tell him the same. He’ll grab her in his arms, pull her close, and kiss her until she’s breathless…

“Hey.”

And there he is, all fitted denim and a striped tee shirt that shows off how generous the years have been to your best friend. Long gone are his gangly limbs of boyhood. Now he’s all corded muscle, finely hewn, high cheekbones, that lovely jaw, dark eyes and his goofy smile that has your heart somersaulting as he plops down against the sea of pillows near your headboard.

“Hey,” you reply, eyes shifting back to your book.

It’s not unusual to sit in silence like this. In fact, he pulls one of your Cosmopolitan magazines from your bedside table and glances down at the woman with gorgeously blown out hair, shifting over onto his stomach. You both read in silence, your ankles hooking over one another as the scene in your book changes and suddenly Nathan and Cora are kissing in the back seat of his car, a little hot and heavy, wild and dirty, groping hands starting to remove clothes.

Your hand comes up to curl around the back of your neck, wiping at some of the sweat pooling there, both from the way Nathan’s hands slide underneath Cora’s shirt and slide along her breast, and the heat spilling in from outside.

“Are you okay?” He asks, head lifting from whatever article he’s likely not even really reading, hair flopping with the suddenness of the gesture.

You close the book for a moment, thumb holding your place, and offer him a nod. “Anything good in there? I don’t even know why my mom orders them; I don’t even read them.”

“So you’re saying you didn’t read this article on ‘Ten Ways to Please Your Man?’” He chuckles, turning the magazine to show you. “Really riveting stuff. I’ll cut this one out for you.”

“You’re such an ass,” you snap, though your voice breaks off into a laugh at the end. You never really can stay mad at him, not when he looks at you like a lost puppy in need of attention. All round dark eyes, elbows on your bed, lip jutting out just so. “Stop pouting. It’s not a good look—and don’t make any corny comments about how all your looks are good looks. Don’t you give me that face, I’ve known you since we were eight.” His look of incredulity falters, those lips of his curling into a smile because he knows you’re right.

Your eyes drift back to your book, picking up right where you left off as Nathan’s fingers unbutton Cora’s jean shorts and he helps to slide them down her thighs, fingers exploring every new inch of exposed flesh.

“Want to go to a movie tonight with Robin and Eddie? We all have off, might as well,” Steve muses, flipping the page of the magazine, and then flipping it again when he realizes it’s only ads for some clothing brand. “They want to see Dead Poets Society, and I remember you said you wanted to see it last week.”

Nathan’s fingers slide beneath the waistband of Cora’s underwear, asking for permission to touch her in a way no one else has. Your knees press together involuntarily, hand coming to rest over your swiftly beating heart, suddenly very grateful for the fan oscillating in the corner of your room.

“Did you hear me?” Steve asks, rolling over onto his back. His head dangles upside down over the edge, face immediately growing red like a tomato, your head shaking at him. “I asked if you wanted to go to the movies with Robin and Eddie later.”

“Oh…” You swallow as Nathan’s fingers start a slow drag along Cora’s center, making her writhe and moan in the back seat of the car, the sun setting and bathing everything in pink and orange shades that dance along his skin with dappled light. “Y-yeah. Sounds good, Stevie. I’d love to.”

You settle back into a comfortable silence. Steve still hangs upside down, tossing a tennis ball you must have left on your floor up into the air from your brief stint trying to play. Couples tennis, minus the fact the two of you weren’t a couple. But he thought it would be funny, and you’d long decided you would give everything at least one chance before ruling it out.

Your eyes drift back to the page, resuming where you left off, right when Nathan slides Cora’s panties down her thighs and asks if he can taste her. Your breath catches, and Steve rolls back over to look at you, brows furrowed high on his forehead in concern.

“Are you okay over there? Seriously. You’re breathing all funny and you’re barely here right now as it is,” he worries his lip between his teeth, those dark eyes of his meeting yours from across the room.

“I’m okay.” You glance down at your lap and tap your book. “You just walked in as things were picking up in my book.”

Maybe it’s not the right choice of words in retrospect. Maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned it at all and instead played it off like, yes, yes you were feeling a little under the weather because of the heat. But you don’t, and it’s the small fumble over your words that has Steve pushing himself upward to sit on the bed, head tipping lightly toward your floppy paperback.

“What are you reading anyway?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, sliding your bookmark into place. You press your book onto the cushion beside you, arms coming to curl around your body, shoulders shrugging. “Just a book.”

“You already said that,” he replies, throwing one foot over the edge of the bed, followed by the other. You shift further against your nook, your book sliding beneath a pillow as your hip bumps against it, obscuring it from view. “What kind of book is it?”

“Adventure,” you say quickly, turning a bit to meet him as those hands come to rest on either of your shoulders. “You haven’t hugged me today.”

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, but he appeases you anyway, his face inches from yours as he bends down to fold you against him.

You hum against his chest, relishing in his warmth, when you ask, “And what is that?”

“Trying to distract me.”

“I’m not distracting—”

Your words are cut off, because Steve’s hand reaches swiftly behind you to curl around the edge of your book and tug it close to his chest. The shriek you let out frightens even yourself as you rush after him, arms curling around his waist and sending him hurtling down against your bed. The book skitters toward your headboard, but that’s the least of your worries right now.

The only thing terrifies you more than him reading the scene that comes after where you left off is the way you’re sitting on top of him. With a slow, horrifying clarity, you take in the room around you. Thighs splayed on either side of his hips, your hands pinning his arm closest to the book above his head, and his hands reflexively against your hips. His chest rises and falls steadily beneath your palms, those dark irises rounding around the edges, his fingers clutching into the belt loops on your shorts.

You both look at each other in silent panic. Because this is your best friend. This is over ten years of friendship lying beneath you. It’s the boy who has seen you scrape your knees learning how to ride a bike, sat next to you on the swings at the park, was there for your first heartbreak. Because he’s the boy you were there for when it then happened to him with Nancy, the one you walked around town with after dark on a warm day with cups of ice cream in hand, the one you told everything to, who knew you best, the boy you snuck your first beer with, and fought off monsters from the Upside Down alongside.

Luckily, he seems to come to the same revelation just as quickly, shoving you off him onto the mattress, hands coming to dance along your ribs until your sides hurt from laughing so hard. A foot comes out to kick him in the thigh when his hand slides out above you, and you hear the familiar slide of your paperback against a blanket.

“Not fair!” You growl, watching him lean back on his haunches, book tucked into his shirt that he’s then tucked into his jeans. “That’s disgusting. You can keep it now. You’re sweaty.”

“I just showered.”

You huff. “Still. Why do you care about what’s in it so much?”

“I wanna know what’s got your panties in such a twist,” he says. Your heart thuds in your ears, throat bobbing with a thick swallow. “Are your panties in a twist? Is that why you’re all out of breath?”

“Steve,” you warn, though there’s no malice in your tone, only hesitancy. You curse yourself inwardly.

His voice drops into a whisper, “Is this a sexy book?”

You want to throttle him. Want to wrap your hands around his shoulders and shake the look of pure and utter delight off his smug features. Only you don’t. You sit there and watch as he slides off your bed and stretches his arms above his chest, which outlines the rectangle hiding against his skin all the more.

It’s then you remember: Steve Harrington hates books. Hated them in high school so much that you had to always read them for him and give him your breakdown of what happened, and you know for a fact he hates them now. The likelihood that’ll change brings you some peace. Confidence rising, you lean back onto your palms, grinning widely up at him.

“Movies at eight then?”

He arches a brow at your sudden shift in demeanor. “Uh…yeah, sure. I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.”

Everything will be just fine.

Only it’s not.

You learn quickly that, though Steve’s hated every book given to him thus far in life, he absolutely devours this one.

There are certain fears that have always lingered in the back of your mind throughout the years.

The first being the worry one day Steve would find out about your years-long crush you’ve had on him. The feelings that have lingered way longer than you ever intended for them to. And it’s not like you hadn’t tried to push them aside; you dated other people, put yourself out there, all to take your mind off of it. It always works…initially. That is, until he does or says something that has you falling all over again, wondering if he’d ever feel the same—wondering if he’s ever felt the same.

But this isn’t a romcom movie, and not all stories like these end up in a relationship, and you had already accepted that…for the most part. If there’s any hope, it’s more like a small flame. A tiny flicker. Nothing noteworthy or remarkable to see here.

Your second fear is the newest one. The fear that Steve would read the book you’d allowed him to sneak out of your house a week ago—actually read it—and unleash a new kind of petrifying hell on you and take actual pleasure in your demise.

It starts over Eddie’s place. He’s got an apartment with Robin now, a dingy little place you’ve always thought they should move out of, but theirs all the same. Robin and Eddie are picking out a movie while you and Steve stand in the kitchen, getting various bowls and trays ready with chips, candy, popcorn, and drinks.

Neither of you has said anything about the book catastrophe. That night, you’d gone to the movies as planned and even shared a soda together, your shoulder pushed against his like nothing even happened. You figured he’d torture you a bit, keep the book for a few days, and give it back with your bookmark exactly where you’d left it.

But he still hasn’t returned it, and when you ask him for it in the middle of Eddie’s kitchen he only shrugs and says, “I’m actually reading it again. I think I skimmed it the first time; I want to make sure I take it all in. Every word, and, you know, every inch of it.”

You glance his way out the corner of his eyes. On a good day Steve’s odd, to say the least. It’s one of the many things that endears you to him and has made you love him as much as you do. Right now, however, he’s all flushed cheeks and wide smirks, looking very much like the cat who swallowed a canary.

“Why are you smirking?”

You shuffle about him to reach into one of the kitchen cabinets in search of a scissor. You snip the corner edge off of an M&M bag and pour some into a bowl, watching him the whole time.

His smug self reaches down to grab a handful of your freshly pourn candies and plops a few into his mouth. You’re about to reprimand him when he moans around the mouthful, saying, “You taste so sweet, baby.”

Your throat dries. It’s worse than the Sahara Desert. Sandpaper slides across your vocal cords, your mouth opening and closing to try and form sentences. Words. Vowels. Anything would be better than the fish-like gape you’re left with, eyes widened in absolute horror.

“What did you just say?”

He turns to face you, his hip pressing against the countertop. Another M&M is lifted to his pursed lips, tongue sliding over it before pulling it into his mouth, his voice low as he repeats slowly, “You taste…so sweet…baby.”

Your eye twitch is your only response.

Your personal hell gets worse, if that’s even possible, two days later.

It’s a particularly balmy June day. Luckily, Steve’s parents are once again out of town, leaving the two of you behind to do whatever it is the hell you want to do. The both of you had settled on a pool day. Just the two of you lounging on floats, smelling of suntan lotion, your cherry chapstick freshly smacked against your lips, and soaking in the sun’s rays.

You’re on a round float in particular, arms spread out beside you, fingertips dancing along the pool’s surface. Music blares from a speaker in the distance, your warm beers long forgotten near the lounge chairs covered in your colorful towels.

You still don’t have your book back, but you can’t find it in yourself to ponder on it. Not like this, not with the water dancing along your skin, chilling your sweat-slick body, bobbing along the water without a care in the world.

“Should I make burgers or hot dogs?” Steve asks when the sun starts to set a bit and the humidity in the air lessens.

You slip down into your tube now, legs kicking in the water, arms propped up over the plastic edges. He treads water in front of you, hair slick against his head, face tanner than it was earlier that evening. He’s even got new freckles along his shoulders, dark against his golden skin.

“Can you do both?” You grin, reaching forward to poke at his cheek. “Please?”

“You’re lucky I like you,” he says, moving to go swim toward the shallow end of the pool where the stairs are.

You’re lucky you’re holding onto a float, because you’re pretty sure you would have momentarily choked under the water at the sight of his form disappearing beneath the surface, long legs kicking in that red bathing suit. Those strong arms of his slice into the water, perfectly practiced motions from the summers he spent life guarding.

You’re so rendered immobile by the sight you briefly forget it’s a scene that happens in your book. A moment when Cora realizes she’s physically attracted to her best friend. Only you differ from her in the fact that you’ve known Steve Harrington has been gorgeous for years. If that isn’t enough, though, when his body slowly walks up the stairs and he turns around to face you, your cheeks burn hotter than the sun could have ever warmed your skin. Because he slides a hand up onto his hair, bicep and abdominals rippling and on display.

Is he moving in slow motion? No, he can't be. Can he? What the actual fuck is going on?

“I’m onto you, Harrington.” You drag a thumb along your throat in a warning.

He only laughs and flexes his arm once more, asking innocently, “Whatever do you mean?”

You’re going to kill him. You’re going to actually have to kill him.

Over the course of the next few days Steve ups his antics.

It’s diabolical, you’ll give him that.

You make a mental note to talk to Eddie about it, because the dramatic flair practically screams his influence.

One of the days he wears a button up in the middle of your kitchen and offers to wash your dishes. Slides his sleeves up over his forearms so you can see all the tendons rippling as he moves (you almost pass out). Unbuttons the collar of his shirt complaining of heat to show that dark hair spattering his skin (you walk into the fridge).

Another day he takes your hand and dances with you like Nathan and Cora do in one of the chapters, spinning you round and round despite your initial protests, to something exceedingly romantic for your best friend’s tastes.

On the third, he accidentally brushes up behind you while you’re grabbing a board game from your closet and you feel the firmness of his chest against your back. You have to pray, something you haven't done in a long time, to keep yourself from doing something you might forever regret, because when did Steve get so muscular?

The fourth day brings soft serve ice cream, which is usually an innocent, non-sexual experience. Until, that is, Steve starts trailing his tongue along it. Little kitten strokes at first, long swipes through cream, the occasional slurp. And that’s all fine and dandy, something you can deal with, until he moans and you have to threaten him with the garden hose (after contemplating using it on yourself to cool off) because you’re not sure if you're about to combust into flame or kiss him square on the mouth and ask him to reenact his performance with the ice cream for real this time.

The fifth, while you’re minding your own business and actually trying to restock the tapes at Family Video, he plants dirty quotes from the book around the place. The two of you play games all the time. It gets you both into more trouble than you’d ever really like to share or admit, but this one is bolder, more evil than any that have come before it.

You’re torn between loathing him and loving him more for it.

And while you don’t particularly enjoy your job there, and really only use the pay to help you put yourself through college, you also don’t want to have to explain to Keith why there’s dirty talk written and hidden in parts of the building. You can picture him firing you already, fed up with Steve’s and your constant antics.

In the break room. I want to taste you.

Attached to the employee bathroom mirror. Let me hear those pretty sounds.

On a back room shelf. You feel so good around me. Feel how deep I am?

Inside one of the cup holders in your car (must have snuck that one while you’d been in the bathroom) I want you to fuck me so hard that I forget my name.

He’s proud of himself, laughing whenever you make a point of ripping up the paper loudly in front of him, letting the shreds drop one by one into a trash can. In actuality, though, your insides are fluttering from the words he’s chosen and you don’t even want to think about the way your thighs clench together or how you feel wetness pool inside your panties, so you decide you need to do damage control.

“So what you’re saying is he’s torturing you?” Robin asks at the conclusion of your debrief.

Her and Eddie sit across from you on the couch, watching wearily as you practically burn a hole in the carpet from your constant pacing. It’s been like this for a half hour. You frantically tell them all the ways Steve’s been haunting your every waking moment. How you’re feeling things you’ve long since tried to suppress.

You’re pent up.

A rubber band ready to snap.

You’re just afraid of what happens when that moment comes. Afraid of what you’ll do, what you might want.

You can’t voice it, let alone allow yourself to think it.

It would be a bad idea.

“Yes!” You nearly shriek, throwing your hands up in the air.

“You two share a single brain cell, and it’s actually quite amusing,” Eddie says.

It’s the only thing he’s said the whole evening, and you pause to whirl around and face him. “What did you say?”

“The two of you,” he says evenly, hooking an ankle over his knee. “Share a combined brain cell.”

“That’s rude,” you snap, narrowing your eyes.

He laughs, glancing over to Robin. “Are the two of you ever going to, oh I don’t know, act on your feelings? I thought it was because of all the shit with the Upside Down. But we saved the world, remember? So what gives?”

“I’m not following…”

Robin interrupts, all wild hands and frantic speech. “You two dinguses like each other. And stop with the ‘we’re best friends’ bullshit you feed everyone. The two of you are dancing around each other and have been for years now. Why not…talk it out and see what happens? You’re clearly feeling some sort of way over this weird little game the two of you are playing this week.”

But the two of you are best friends. You’re not Nathan and Cora. That kind of stuff happens in your books. Those fated relationships, destined to be at a young age.

You know how to separate fact from fiction.

Steve and you are fact, and you don’t want to dabble in fiction when it comes to him.

Right…?

Tears for Fears blares through the speaker system, Family Video empty save for the two of you. The ‘OPEN’ sign on the door has already been flipped to ‘CLOSED.’ You’re meant to be going through new releases for Keith and unpacking them from the boxes laid out in the back room. He’s already told you where he wants them placed, which movies to arrange on certain shelves for different occasions.

Your pencil scratches along paper, calling out the names of movies to Steve, crossing out a box to confirm you received all the titles the business was expecting. It’s tedious, and you’d rather be doing just about anything else, but it takes your mind off the tension swirling in your gut over your ‘Steve situation.’

Neither of you have spoken in a bit. More so because you don’t know what to say. You don’t know how to address the elephant in the room: the fact you like him, want him, and have been struggling to remind yourself that this game you’re playing is only a game. It’s a dangerous line to walk, even scarier to tread. On one side, the safety of friendship, and on the other is the unknown.

So you return to your tapes, the shadowed in boxes, the methodical strokes of pencil against paper. It’s another ridiculously warm day. You curse the shoddy air conditioning system Keith never calls in to get fixed, hands sliding down the sides of your skirt, grateful for the slight breeze that tickles your ankles with every movement. If Steve’s warm, he says nothing of it, only picks up the pace with going through the inventory and closes up the box once you’re finally done.

“We just need to double check the back room is clean and then we can lock up,” he says. Your head lifts abruptly, having gone so long without hearing his voice it almost shocks you.

“Oh, yeah. Right. Coming,” you tell him, clipping your pencil to the board and sliding the whole thing onto the shelf beneath the counter.

Steve’s shoving the box onto a wooden table when you join him, your eyes doing a cursory scan about the room to make sure everything looks to be in its proper place. What you don’t expect to see, however, is your book resting in your pocketbook on the chair you left it atop of.

Steve follows the line of your gaze and chuckles. “Figured it was about time I gave it back.”

You lift the tattered old thing in one hand and flip through the pages. He’s moved the bookmark all the way to the back, and you know he’s read the whole thing. Satisfied with its condition, you tuck it back into where it belongs and lean against the wooden table, palms curling around the edge as you shift to face him.

“You done teasing me?” You ask pointedly, head tipping to the side with a little smirk. “Even I have to admit that was a cruel game.”

“Why was it cruel?” He steps closer, the already small room shrinking even further.

“You were making fun of me.”

“No I wasn’t. I liked the book,” he admits, the corner of his lip twitching upward. “I just had one question the whole time I was reading it.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” You’re genuinely curious, leaning back further against the table.

Steve takes another step closer, dark hair bouncing with each movement, those eyes dark and kind. “You’ve written down all the dates you read the thing in the front. So I assume it’s your favorite. Why is it your favorite?”

It’s…not a bad observation. If anything, it has your blood burning a bit, heart starting to flutter faster in your chest. Still, you keep your cool, shrugging your shoulders in reply.

“Come on now, since when do we keep things from each other?”

His hand drops down onto the wood beside your hip, his chest nearly pressing to your knees where you sit. Your feet kick mindlessly back and forth, brushing against his shins, skirt fluttering around you.

“I like the plot,” you admit, popping the 'p' for emphasis, trying to look anywhere but his face as you continue, “I like the idea of two people who already know each other trying to see if there’s more between them.”

“Cora and Nathan are best friends.” It’s not a question, but a fact. You nod, watching his other hand drop onto the other side of your hip. “Is that why you got all hot and bothered in your bedroom? Why those notes made you squirm?”

“Don’t be an asshole.” You cross your arms over your chest. “It’s a book.”

“Is that all it is?” He asks, looking into your eyes with an unfamiliar intensity. You want to hide from it, but it dredges up something new in you. Something bold and dizzying. “If it’s just a book, tell me that’s all it is and we’ll close up and go home.”

You don’t say anything for a while.

How could you? How could you admit that the reason it’s your favorite is because it’s about two best friends falling for one another? How could you admit you dreamed and hoped maybe one day it would be your reality with him? How could you admit you wanted to taste him, touch him, feel him for years now?

Steve moves to head back toward the main room when you make your choice.

“Steve?”

He whirls around on the spot, eyes searching your face. He rushes back over to where you’re sitting. Your hands slide up tentatively into his, testing the weight of them in your palms.

You exhale a deep breath, “Kiss me?”

There’s no moment of question. No hesitance behind his gaze when he curls a palm around the side of your face and swoops down to kiss you soundly on the lips. It’s not slow and sweet like in the many movies you’ve seen and books you’ve read. Instead it’s an urgent, hurried thing. His hands slide around your hips and draw you closer to him, your thighs parting to make space for him, mouths licking into one another hungrily, years of pent up emotion spilling into the spaces between you.

It’s a nip of his bottom lip here, the gasp from you when his mouth slides along your cheek in search of your jaw, sucks below your ear in a way that has you clutching at his shoulders, dragging him closer. Fingers pinch into skin. Frantic hands slide over your Family Video vest, his mouth forming the quiet question of “Can I?” And your head is nodding, heart thundering. He slips it free from your form and touches at the hem of your shirt hesitantly.

“You can touch me,” you rasp out, hands clutching around the edge of the table. A callused palm slides up and along your skin, dances along the curve of your breast, right over the rapid thrum of your heart. “Stevie…”

He’s kissing you again, hand sliding out from underneath your shirt and instead rucking up the sides of your skirt. A gust of cold air hits the tops of your thighs as he bares you to him. You watch those fingers that have held you all these years, have tended your wounds, soothed away your worries, drag along your flesh. Up over the curve of your thigh, the curve of your hip, and down again.

“I want you to touch me, Steve. I want you,” you whisper against his ear, curling an arm around his shoulder and shuddering into the side of his neck. Those fingers slip down the front of your panties and trail a dangerous path from your slick center to your clit, teasing lightly, circling where you want him most.

He hums pleasantly. “This all for me, pretty girl?” He’s smiling to himself at your quiet cry, tracing the same pattern once more before dropping down onto his knees to help you slide them down and off your legs. “Are you sure?”

“Pleas—” Your voice breaks off into a moan. That taunting mouth of his licks a deadly path from your entrance to that sensitive nub, rendering you at his mercy. He slides one of your thighs up and over his shoulder, the other held out to open you further to him. “Just like that, just like that.”

He licks into you, murmuring into your skin about how he’s wanted you like this for years. Dirty sounds of your slick meld together with your gasps and whimpers, fingers reaching down to grasp at hair, tugging hard, hips grinding involuntarily into his face.

“Steve!” Your head falls back at the white hot flash behind your eyes when that first finger slides in all the way to the knuckle, a sinful slide in and out of you that has you craving more. More fullness, more something, more Steve, until you’re whining pathetically. The second finger joins the first, stretching and sliding against skin, working in tandem with the flat of his tongue against your clit.

You come with a cry of his name, body bowing over the top of his head, fingers a tangle against his scalp. He continues to lick and pump into you through your orgasm, his other hand holding tight against your hip you’re sure you’ll have bruises come morning. But you don’t care. You don’t care at all. You grip the front of Steve’s shirt and drag him upward to your mouth, tasting yourself on him. His tongue glides over your own, moans mingling in the spaces between you.

Your hands work on his jeans next, needing more of him, his mouth moving languidly over yours. Shaky hands slide the button through the hole, fingers pushing down the zipper, the desperate wiggle of fabric down his thighs so he can kick himself out of them. You waste no time sliding him out of his boxers, hand pumping him once, twice, before he’s sliding on a condom fished from his wallet and asking you how you want him.

It’s how you end up sliding down to the edge of the table, his fingers dipping into your slick heat, still sensitive from your orgasm, his cock straining against your hip when he drops down to kiss you once more, whispering, “Are you sure? Need your words, pretty girl.”

“I want you…I’ve wanted this, Steve.”

You feel him nudge at your entrance, so full and thick it has your eyes rolling slightly at the first delicious stretch. Your arm curls around his shoulder to drag your chests closer, gasps mingling, the hand curling around your hip gripping tighter while he sinks inch by inch into you until he’s buried to the hilt.

He rocks slowly against you at first. A slow, torturous drag in and out. In and out. Until you’re whimpering steadily into the quiet room, ankle curling around a hip, drawing him closer. Always closer. It’s a slow build up. Face pressed into his chest, hips rolling in tandem with his, relishing in his sounds rumbling deep within his chest.

It’s Steve, you remind yourself.

Steve, your best friend in the world, rocking into you, chasing your peaks together. He's whispering how pretty you are, how good you feel, praising you. He murmurs ‘good fuckin’ girl’ against your mouth when your head shifts and you kiss him greedily, a messy tangle of lips, tongue and teeth.

“Faster, Steve,” you plead, eyes pinching shut.

His hips snap harder against yours, his grunts and groans filling the space, driving the table to knock against the wall, sending the box of new inventory hurtling to the ground. Neither of you can be bothered with it, hands clutching against clothes, mouths tangling, wet skin slapping against skin, lurching closer and closer to the edge.

Steve’s laying you back against the table, chest crawling over your own, mouth like a brand against yours, your hair fanning around your head. He curls a forearm under your lower back, tilting your hips, the new angle hitting that part of you over and over and over again that makes your vision grow white around the edges. Your whimpers of his name spurring him on, your thigh crooked over one of his elbows, drawing him closer, deeper.

Steve comes seconds after you do, face red and chest heaving, gasping at the way your body clenches around him. Kisses you in between broken cries of his name falling from your pretty lips.

Your thigh slides back down from around his elbow. The other thigh slowly drops back down against the wood, skirt bunching indecently around your hips, his chest heavy against yours. Your fingers come up to brush along his hair, humming when he leans over to kiss you once, twice, and then slides off of you, your body immediately missing the feeling of being full of him.

You dress and clean in silence. Little awkward chuckles spilling here and there as he helps you slide your underwear back on, head disappearing beneath your skirt to teasingly nip at the inside of a thigh. Your hands help to smooth his unruly hair back into place. It’s a gentle slide of fingers together when you both make your way out to his car and slip inside, the cheeky grin from him when he leans over the center console and smacks a kiss against your cheek, making your skin burn ablaze.

“Want to go get food? Maybe a milkshake,” he suggests, curling a hand around his steering wheel. “On me.”

“Like a date?” You muse, watching his hand curl around your own to draw your palm to his lips for a slow kiss into the center.

“If you want it to be.”

Steve and you open up at Family Video the next day.

Your late night plans the day before in hindsight may not have been the best idea either of you had in a while, but seeing him early that next morning with his sunglasses perched on his face and his lips eagerly seeking yours over the center console had made it worth it.

You’d spent the evening huddled over a basket of fries, talking about your feelings, about giving things a try, constantly touching. Hands, cheeks, shoulders, legs. You craved it all, this new need to be attached at all times, butterflies fluttering in bellies, grins tugging at faces. Later it had been chocolatey milkshake kisses under the stars at Lover’s Lake, a new world of exploration at your fingertips.

Presently, Robin and Eddie mill about in the distance, looking for a movie for your usual Friday night in, the two of them calling various movie titles over to where you and Steve work behind the countertop.

“How about Heathers?” Eddie asks, just as Keith barrels out of the back room, looking red in the face and on a mission.

“Looks like you two—” he points between you and Steve. “—did some rearranging in the back room last night. That wall you dented and then tried to hide behind the table, however you managed that, I don’t know…but yeah, you’ll be paying for it. And the stack of movies on the floor? If any are busted, I’ll dock both your pay for them as well. Count your lucky stars I’m not firing you both.”

He’s gone back the way he came, leaving you standing beside Steve, your mouths open, eyes rounded in fear.

Steve mouths, “We forgot to clean up the movies…”

You turn into his chest to hide, mortification burning your face.

Robin and Eddie smirk, high-fiving amidst the movie displays.

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader #steve harrington imagine #my writing #luna's writing

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yellowharrington · 2 years

Text

-- good vibrations

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used)

warnings: basically just smut. rated R, minors dni. unprotected sex, creampie, sex toys, cursing, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, other sex stuff.

word count: 1.8k+

a/n: haven't written smut in a min but this idea came to me in a dream so here u go. enjoy sexy steve stuffs. sorry for the cheesy title also.

summary: you take steve to an "adult's only" toy store.

“Where are we going?”

Steve was starting to get a little anxious looking at the dark night sky pass by. You’d skipped the grocery store, the movie theatre, and the diner… all of your most frequented date spots. At this point, he had zero idea of where your plan could end up. “It’s a surprise,” you smiled slyly, your hand finding his and playing with the width of his finger. “It’ll be worth it. Promise.”

After another 20 or so minutes of driving, you pulled into the parking lot of a small, stand alone store. The parking lot had one lone vehicle, but was otherwise completely dark and empty. The pink neon sign on the outside, “Love Stories”, in a cursive font, made Steve’s pupils dilate.

“What are we doing here?” He sounded nervous, and a little worried. His long digit extended towards the sign in an accusatory fashion. “We’re not going in there.”

You pouted slightly, taking his hand in yours. “It’ll be fun. I’ve never been in one before. Maybe we’ll find something.”

The tantalizing look in your eyes went straight to his groin, as the pink light washed over your pretty features. He was painfully aware of the soft pad of your thumb rubbing over his knuckle, and the way your lips felt when you brought his hand up to your mouth to kiss it. A mark of your pink lipgloss now adorned his first knuckle. “Trust me.”

He sighed, putting his sunglasses on and looking around, nervous to spot someone he may know. It was a small town, after all. “Okay.”

The inside of the store was dimly lit, amber lighting greeting you as you stepped inside. The carpets were grey, cheesy jazz music playing quietly on the speakers. The cashier didn’t even acknowledge you, which Steve silently thanked her for. All kinds of toys hung on the walls, dildos and vibrators alike, making Steve blush crimson. You grabbed his hand, taking him through the first aisle of the store.

He picked up a tape, his eyes widening at the title. “Do you think her boobs are real?” He asked, pointing to the topless blonde woman on the front. You giggled with him, jabbing his side with your pointer finger and pulling him along. Steve wasn’t nervous, per se, but he was definitely out of his depth.

Once he could relax enough to take a breath, he seemed intrigued. “So… what exactly are we looking for?” His tone was hushed, like a secret, against your ear.

“Something fun,” you picked out a black bullet vibrator, pressing the 'test' button on the outside of the packaging. You pressed it to Steve’s arm briefly so he could feel. “Maybe something like this, what do you think?” He seemed confused by the sensation. “Would that… make you feel good?” You felt yourself brush up against him, his eyes going dark as he looked down at you. He was unbelievably horny, watching your devilish smile spread across your face, somehow still gentle and innocent. “Only if you used it on me,” you were whispering in his ear now, watching his head fall back and his lips part. Goosebumps erupted on his arms and behind his neck. His tongue slid across his bottom lip, wetting it, as he grabbed the small contraption from your hand. You were unbearably close to him, sharing body heat, needing him more than ever in that moment.

By the time you were at the counter ready to pay, Steve was rock hard. He was imagining you, writhing on his bed, splayed out as he used the toy on you. Soft moans, your hands on your tits, his cock buried inside…

But he was in public. And he couldn’t do that until you got home. So, his first objective was to get home.

Your hand was still encapsulated with his as you sped back to Steve’s parent’s house. He had a hand on your waistband, gently pawing at the skin of your stomach and preoccupying himself with the button of your jeans. You pulled into his driveway with a small squeal of your tires, throwing him one more excited look before dashing to his front door.

When you pushed the door open, Steve’s hands were already ripping your clothes off. He pushed your jacket down your shoulders, slipping his shoes and jeans off right in the front foyer of the house. Your t-shirt was next, slung around the bannister as you pulled Steve’s body up the stairs, toy in hand.

You felt your back hit the soft sheets first, with Steve’s body looming over you. His hair flopped over his eyes, as he pulled his own t-shirt over his head and discarded it to the side. “I want you,” he breathed, “so bad.” You began to undo your belt, shimmying your jeans down your thighs. “Me too,” was all you can think to say, positioning your head on his pillow. He admired your body for a second, drinking you in before turning away to close his door. His boxers were tight around his cock, grey cotton fabric outlining it perfectly.

He positioned himself between your legs, letting his torso sink into yours as he fully relaxed. His weight on your body was comforting and safe, as his lips touched yours in a soft but fervent kiss. You kissed right back, allowing your tongue to snake between his lips and lick at him. The moans he let out were arousing you so much, knowing he was aching for you.

His hands found yours, interlacing his fingers by your head, gently pushing you into the mattress, as he simultaneously kicked your legs open with his knee, rocking against the softness of your thigh. He was harder now, achingly so, the moans pouring from his mouth into yours like honey.

“Need you,” you managed to choke out, breaking the kiss and allowing your throat to be exposed. “Steve, please.”

He reached across the bedsheets, grabbing the vibrator you had purchased earlier. He pressed the button on the bottom, allowing it to come to life. You laid beneath him, expectantly, panting.

“What do I do?” He asked, breathlessly, innocently. You took his hand, gently guiding him to your clothed pussy. The sharp intake of breath forced Steve to stop, taking in the scene in front of him. Your back was slightly arched, absolutely filthy sounds pouring from your lips. “More,” you pled, pressing his hand in between your pussy lips, finally feeling some contact on your clit. “Shit,” he whined, pupils blown and cock leaking pre into his boxers. He pulled the bullet away from you, and you winced at the loss of contact.

The soft vibrations were making your head spin, your back involuntarily arching for more contact. It wasn’t like anything you’d felt before, but it was making you feel so unbelievably good. When you found the strength to open your eyes, Steve’s long fingers were pumping his cock. You watched intently, becoming wetter and wetter at the sight of his blushed cheeks, and concentration.

“So pretty,” he’s earnest, with a warm tone in his voice as he takes his fingers from his own body and dips them inside of you. Two, right away, given the juiciness you’ve accumulated so far. His digits fill you up, curving them slightly, to hit the sweet spot inside of you he knows will make your orgasm come swiftly. You let your hand take hold of the vibrator, pressing it harder against your heat. His free hand slid up your stomach, thumb toying with your bottom lip. You enveloped it in your soft lips, taking the whole length of it in your mouth sloppily. Your eyes connected with his, a flame behind them, lusting after the feeling he was giving you.

He was watching you intently, the soft wetness of your tongue making him throb. You stuck out your tongue, allowing him to replace his thumb with his pointer and middle fingers, giving you something to suck on as you toyed your pussy. His jaw dropped open, aroused beyond belief, never having witnessed such a provocative act. He was throbbing, aching, to fuck you, as he was gently rutting up against the side of the bed.

Your first orgasm came quickly and by surprise as Steve's fingers made quick work inside of you, knowing all of the right places to touch. He was watching you intently, happy to witness such deep pleasure erupt from inside, letting his fingers fall out of your mouth and graze across your hard nipples briefly.

You pulled the vibe from your clit when you came down, switching to your stomach. You brought yourself to your elbows, signalling him to come down to kiss you, before you switched positions onto your front, mouth towards his aching cock.

Steve stood from the bed, confused about the sudden change, but quickly understanding when your back arched to reveal the curve of your ass. Your mouth opened, tongue flopping out, a string of spit falling onto his light blue bed sheets. His cock slid into your mouth, wet and warm, as his head lulled back.

He was overtaken by the sensation, gently fucking into the tight suction of your lips. He moaned, guttural and aching for you, in complete bliss. “Feels so fucking good,” he choked out, barely able to contain his arousal. Your hand came to grip him, mouth working in tandem to twist and suck in a deadly combination. “Fuck,” he groaned, looking down at the sight in front of him. Your eyes flickered up to look at him, under thick lashes, watching you work, as his hands tousled themselves into your hair.

“Alright, Jesus,” he slid his cock out from between your lips. “Gotta fuck you,” he moaned, kissing your forehead before rounding the bed to place himself behind you. He flipped you over, roughly pulling you towards him to line himself up. His cock slid in easily, immediately lubed up in your arousal, engulfed by your pussy. “Hand me that,” he made a motion towards the vibrator on the sheets, clicking it ‘on’ once more. He held it to your clit again, eliciting a breathy moan from your lips. “Steve, oh god,” you felt a tight knot build in your stomach, your orgasm building once again. He lent down to kiss your neck, peppering kisses along your throat and chest as he pumped in and out.

“I’m… I’m-, Steve,” you opened your eyes briefly to grab his face, as he watched your orgasm begin to wash over your features.

Before you knew it, you were squeezing your pussy around him and letting a string of expletives fall out of your mouth. The pleasure was unbearable. His fingertips dug into your thighs, nails leaving imprints on the skin there, watching as you let the pleasure wrack through your body. His orgasm came quickly after, cum pumping into you he sloppily thrusted, heavy eyelids slightly open just to watch your tits bounce underneath him. You felt the warmth of his cum inside you as he pulled out, grabbing a loose t-shirt to cover yourself as not to drip on the sheets.

After gingerly pulling out, he laid next to you, chest heaving, completely spent. The air was thick and hot with your breath, prompting you to reach over and open up the window to let in some of the cool air from outside. His warm brown eyes found yours before he leaned forward to kiss you again, softly, while grabbing the back of your neck to pull your face into his. His breath was hot against your lips, voice raspy, “I’m glad I trusted you.”

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x afab!reader #steve harrington fic #1k

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boyfriendstevie · 3 months

Text

lavender haze

unable to sleep, and having to share a bed with steve isn't exactly ideal, especially when you're in love with him... and you're not sure if he feels the same way | 4.2k, f!reader, friends to lovers, there's only one bed!!!, lots of feelings and fluff, fingering, unprotected piv | 18+ only!!! mdni!!!

You’ve been awake for hours. Days, even. Okay, that’s not physically possible, but that’s what it feels like, lying awake on your side, staring at the wall. You can feel Steve’s warmth behind you, and you know if you scoot back even a few inches, your back will be against his. In a cruel twist of fate, you’ve ended up in the same bed as your friend and not-so-secret crush. This would be a perfect scene in a romcom, but this is your real life, and it’s pretty much agonizing.

A sigh escapes your lips, a little louder than you mean to, and you grimace as Steve shifts slightly next to you, but he stays quiet. You hold your breath for a moment longer, and then shift onto your back, pulling the blankets up higher. You sigh again, staring up at the ceiling after you drag your hands down your face. It’s silent for another minute, and then suddenly, Steve’s speaking. His voice is just above a whisper, and yet it feels deafening in the silence of your room, “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head against your pillow even though he can’t see it, and reply quietly, “Not at all. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you—“

Instead of replying, the bed creaks beside you as Steve turns over, too, flat on his back, “Nah, haven’t been able to sleep either.” The bed is small enough that his arm brushes yours now, warm and soft under the sheets. You glance over at him, eyes tracing the slope of his nose in the dark of the room.

“‘M sorry,” you sigh, “didn’t realize there’d only be one bed, and—”

Steve’s quick to roll onto his side, facing you. He props himself up on his hand to get a better look at you as he shakes his head, “C’mon now, none of that, babe. ‘S not your fault, and I don’t mind. Could be worse. Could be sharing a room with Eddie. Ugh, or Dustin.”

You laugh a little at that, lips quirking up as you turn to look at Steve. Your breath catches in your throat when you realize just how close he is, his face only inches from yours in the small space. If you wanted, you could count all of his moles and freckles, every single one of his eyelashes. Somehow, you manage to breathe out, “Yeah?”

“Totally,” Steve nods seriously, “Neither of them are all that pretty, either. Well, Eddie’s got that hair and those big, brown, baby cow eyes, but I’ve got my eye on someone else.”

You want to laugh at his joke, but the last part doesn’t feel all that funny with the way he’s looking at you, eyes all soft. Your fingers play at the edge of the blanket, eyes darting back to the ceiling as you ask, “You do?”

“Mhm. Kinda why I can’t sleep. ‘S hard when they’re laying next to you but you can’t even touch them,” he’s quiet, voice laced with nerves in a way you’re not sure you’ve heard from him before.

Your heartbeat quickens at his confession, and you glance over at him, eyes wide. You turn onto your side to face him, the space between you even smaller, and search his eyes. He seems serious. Genuine. It’s hard to believe that he might feel the same way you do, but you want him more than anything, so you whisper, “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me? Ple—“

He leans in and cuts you off with a kiss, not needing to be asked twice. For as quickly as he reacts, it’s a gentle kiss. Soft, and definitely not hesitant, but shy. It’s even better than you imagined. He kisses you like he’s been waiting to do it forever, lips slotting against yours perfectly. His nose nudges into yours, and his hands creep towards you, one settling against the curve of your hip.

Steve pulls away with a heavy breath, hands almost twitching at your sides as he looks at you, searching your face for an answer. His voice is quiet, like he’s worried if he speaks too loud he’ll ruin everything, “Can I… can I touch you? Y-you can say no, I’ll stop if you want, I just—“

You nod a bit too quickly, desperate to have him closer, “Please. You can touch me. However you want, I don’t mind.” Your admission — the implication behind it — has you flushed, and you want to hide, but he doesn’t give you a chance as one hand cradles your jaw, the other slipping just underneath the hem of your big sleep shirt.

His hand is warm on your cheek, and he’s gentle with you as he tilts your chin up to meet his lips in another kiss. The kiss itself is a little less gentle, a little more purposeful as he nips at your bottom lip, pulling a gasp from you. The hand under your shirt feels even hotter than the one on your cheek, a searing warmth on your skin, curling over your side, pulling your chest to his.

One of your hands presses into Steve’s chest as you kiss, the other finding its way to his hair. As his kisses move from your lips to your jaw, you tilt your head back and murmur, “You know, I’ve heard— oh— ‘ve heard orgasms help… help to fall asleep.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, a quiet laugh muffled against your skin, “We could always try…”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding quickly, your fingers twisting into the strands of his hair as he sucks a mark onto your delicate skin, “if you want—“

“Well, we both need the sleep…” he trails off again. You’re both being hesitant about it. You know that if you do this, things will probably change in your friendship, but you’re not sure you can find it in yourself to really care. You want him and you want him to know it, so you reach for the hand on your side and pull on his wrist until his palm is on your rib cage, just underneath your breast.

Steve takes the hint and swears under his breath as he cups your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers until it peaks under his touch. Your back arches, chest pushing into his as you let out a whiny breath. You can feel his smile against your neck as he murmurs, “Got such pretty tits, babe, fuck.”

“You… you can’t even see them,” you , even though you’re barely holding it together.

“Can I see them?” he asks, only half joking. But you pull back anyway, watching as his eyes go wide as you tug your shirt over your head. Steve reaches out again to touch you, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “Christ, baby. I was totally right. Prettiest tits ‘ve ever seen.”

You desperately hope he can’t tell how flustered you are from his praise, instead turning your attention to his own shirt, pushing the soft, worn hem up his torso, “Your turn, handsome.”

“Y’think ‘m handsome?” he asks, muffled as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it towards the end of the bed.

“Is that not obvious?” you ask, giving him a pointed look as you as you scoot back in towards him, hips pressing to his as your hands roam up his sides.

“N-not ‘til r-right now—“ Steve stutters at the feeling of your body against his, your hands on his chest, his hips rolling into yours. It pulls a quiet moan out of you, and he decides he can’t wait any more, finally pushing his hand down your tummy towards the waistband of your pajama shorts. He pauses, eyes flicking up to yours in the darkness until you nod. It’s all he needs to slip his hand into your panties.

Steve groans as his fingers find your wetness, dipping between your folds to collect your slick, “Shit, babe. So wet for me. You do think I’m handsome, huh?”

Before you can answer his jest with your own teasing, Steve presses a finger inside of you, drawing a sharp whine from you as it curls. His are much thicker than your own, and longer, too. Your hands scramble to find purchase on something, anything, and settle for grasping at Steve’s shoulders, nails leaving half-moon shapes in his tanned skin.

Your hips roll against Steve’s hand, silently begging for more, and he gives it to you without question, a second finger joining his first. There’s a dull ache as his fingers scissor apart inside of you, pressing deep in search of the spot that will make you fall apart. His fingers fuck in and out of you slowly, the dirty sound of your wetness muffled by the sheets and the soft noises you’re making, “Ah, Steve—“

“‘S good?” he asks quietly, seemingly a genuine question as his eyes search your face for an answer.

He finds his answer when you nod emphatically, eyes screwed shut, and whine, “More. Please, need more.”

Steve’s thumb finds your clit after a moment, slow and deliberate circles that are driving you insane in the best way. It’s like he’s exploring your body more than anything, familiarizing himself with you, figuring out what you like. He manages to find the spot that makes you feel weak, and doubles down when your lips part with another choked moan.

Somehow, he seems to know your body like the back of his hand. He knows just when you’re about to cum, and pulls his hand away, leaving your cunt clenching around nothing as you whine pathetically, “Steve!”

You can feel the tip of his nose rubbing against the skin just under your jaw, the curve of his lips against the pulse point on your neck, and you know he can probably feel the way your heart is beating wildly. He huffs a laugh, a small puff of air that makes goosebumps prickle your skin. It’s not a mean laugh, more so teasing, maybe a little sympathetic as he murmurs, “Sorry, sorry. Just— just want to be inside you. Can I?”

“Oh, fuck— yes, yeah. Want you.”

Steve’s breath catches at that, like he hadn’t been expecting you to say yes, and scrambles backwards so he has enough room to remove his remaining clothes. He sucks in a breath hard as he stumbles over his next question, “Shit, really? I mean— I don’t have any condoms, I just— you can say no, I won’t—“

Before he can talk himself out of it, you wiggle your hands out of the comforter so you can cup his jaw in them, tilting his chin until his gaze catches yours. Your heart is still beating out of your chest, but god you want him, so you swallow your fears and murmur, “Steve. ‘M sure. ‘M on the pill, and I just— I need you.”

It’s like he’s in a trance, unable to move until your lips are at his neck and your hands dip back underneath the covers so you can shove his boxers down his hips. He only snaps out of it when your hand wraps around his length and strokes up towards the tip slowly. He’s painfully hard, and even though you can’t see him under the covers, you can tell he’s big. You worry for a second; maybe you should’ve let him touch you for longer.

The thought disappears, though, when his long fingers wrap around your wrist, eyes big and pleading for you to stop, “Won’t last if you keep that up, babe. ‘D rather be inside you.”

“Oh, okay, sorry,” you giggle, shifting so you can also get rid of your last pieces of clothing. When your panties and pajama shorts are at your ankles, you kick them off under the covers and turn to your side once again to face Steve.

His gaze is heavy, hazel eyes a darker shade in the unlit room as he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon that shines in through the curtains. He can’t even see all of you, and yet, he’s staring at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. With the way he’s looking at you, and the silence that’s fallen over the room, you feel shy, and Steve can tell. So, before you can pull away, a warm palm lands on the bare curve of your hip and he whispers, “C’mere.”

He doesn’t give you much of a choice as he drags your body across the soft sheets closer to him. Not that you mind. You’ve thought about this. About how easy it would be for Steve to grab you to pull you closer and kiss you like it was his last chance. He does just that, lips meeting yours in a soft kiss as his hands roam across your side and pull your body into his. You fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, like it’s meant to be, and you briefly wonder how you haven’t done this before.

Steve’s hand moving from your waist down to your bum pulls you out of your head and back into the moment. A not-so-gentle squeeze has your eyes darting up to his in surprise. He all but giggles when your eyes meet, and it’s such a boyish sound that it makes you laugh, too, “Are you just coppin’ a feel or are you actually gonna do something?”

“You have a nice ass, okay?” he giggles again, squeezing a little nicer this time as his lips meet yours with a quiet hum. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you, soft and slow as his hands wander again, finding the dimpled skin of your thighs. His fingers press into your thigh, flesh molding between them, and though it’s not enough to leave a mark, you swear you’ll feel his hand there for days.

His palm leaves a scorching trail down the back of your leg until he stops just above your knee and takes your leg into his hand, hitching it up over his hip, pulling you in closer at the same time. He pauses as you hook around his waist, the tip of his nose brushing yours, his voice coming out gentler, more uneven than it’s been all night, “Is this okay?”

You nod quicker than you mean to and flush with heat, fingers threading into his hair after one of your arms pushes over his shoulder, “‘S perfect, Steve.”

He leans in for another kiss, lips pressing to the corner of your mouth and then your cheek, a welcome distraction as the tip of his cock nudges against your entrance. Your breath hitches as he pushes inside of you, your fingers digging into Steve’s skin at the not-quite-pleasant stretch. It’s not enough to hurt him, but he still takes notice, pausing for a moment to lift a hand to cup your jaw and tilt your face towards his, “Are you okay? Want me to stop?”

The way he nearly trembles in restraint as he waits for your word doesn’t go unnoticed, and you press your forehead to his, voice barely above a murmur, “‘M okay, keep going.”

“Okay. ‘Ve got you,” he replies just as softly, his thumb brushing up the plane of your soft cheek, gently rubbing back and forth against your cheekbone. His hips shift at the same time, drawing a sharp gasp from you that he soothes with more kisses until your hips are pressed to his, warm skin against warm skin.

It feels like Steve is fucking everywhere. He’s so deep inside of you, and you feel so full in the best possible way. One of his arms is needled between your neck and your pillow, curving around your shoulders to keep you close, while his other hand wanders over your body, seemingly with a mind of its own, traveling from your thigh to your hip, up the expanse of your soft torso to your tits.

His forehead is still pressed to yours, and the tip of his nose nudges into the apple of your cheek, his breath hot and heavy against your jaw as he says your name, “Christ, sweetheart. Y’got such a perfect pussy, feel like fuckin’ heaven around me. Been wanting you like this forever.”

The whine that forces its way out of your mouth is half in response to the way Steve’s hips roll against yours, but almost more so a response to the confession that you’re not sure he realizes he’s made. Pleasure thrums low in your stomach from his words alone, and your head swims with the possibility that Steve’s felt the same way for you that you’ve felt for him all this time. Your fingers twist into his hair and tug, a bit harsher than you mean to, but it pulls the prettiest sound from him, one that you want to hear again and again.

Before you get the chance to elicit another groan from him in that way, a strong arm curls around your waist, a warm, heavy, weight against the small of your back. He’s not as smooth as he wants to be as he pushes at your body to get you onto your back. You thud into the pillows behind you, giggling as Steve clambers back over you, kneeling in the space between your legs. Big hands on your thighs, he pulls your body towards his with a huff of a laugh, “That went a lot more smoothly in my head.”

You laugh again, completely enamored with the stupidly hot dork in front of you. Somehow, everything he does is endearing. Makes you want him even more. But he’s taking his time after getting you on your back, and you need him closer, want him back. You pout at him, bottom lip jutting out as you reach up towards him, managing to get an arm around his neck to pull him close, “Stevie, come here. Need you. Please.”

“You don’t have to say please, baby,” Steve murmurs as he gives in easily, a sucker for your pretty pout. One hand presses into the soft pillows beside your head as he leans in towards you, “Whatever you want, just say the word.”

The thought of saying what you really want out loud makes heat rush to your face and your chest, so you settle for moving your hips, lifting them towards his, desperately seeking any sort of friction to ease the ache in your cunt. It works for a moment — a quiet gasp tearing from you when the tip of his cock catches against your entrance, bumps into your clit as his hips shift against yours. You give another hint, hitching one of your legs up around Steve’s waist so you can press your heel into the small of his back, urging him even closer.

Steve takes pity on you — doesn’t make you say it out loud… this time — and takes the hints, finally sinking back into you with a bit more ease. You sigh in pleasure, a high-pitched noise that has Steve smiling into the crook of your neck, “That what you wanted, babe? Just needed my cock?”

“Mhm,” you nod against the pillow, bringing your other leg up to press into Steve’s side as he rocks into you slowly, an inch at a time, “feel so good, Steve.”

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters as he bottoms out, dotting a kiss to where his face is pressed into your skin, surprisingly chaste in contrast with what comes out of his mouth next, “Fuck, you’re so tight. An’ so wet, too. Just for me, huh?”

“Uh huh, just, ahhh, oh god— j-just for you, Stevie,” you reply, stuttering through your words as he pushes in deep, and grinds his hips against yours. The deliciously slow drag of his cock through your wet heat is making you dizzy with pleasure, and you clench around him. It draws a low moan from Steve that you can feel just as much as you can hear, his arms shaking, breath hot against your neck.

You’ve never loved your name more than you do when Steve groans it against your skin as your hips meet his. The way it comes out of his mouth is a short fall from reverential, and full of love, and you want nothing more than to hear it again and again. You push your hands over Steve’s freckled shoulders, pulling at him until his chest is crushed against yours. The smattering of hair covering his chest scratches against your skin as he presses into you, but you can’t find it in yourself to mind, because this is all you’ve ever wanted.

It’s quiet in the room, save for the soft noises you’re both making, and all of your senses are dialed up to 11, filled solely with Steve. His body heat, his hands on your thighs, your hips, your breasts, lips brushing any place he can reach, his cock filling you so perfectly with every thrust. The sound of his skin against yours, his moans and pants in your ear. The smell of sweat and sex and something warm and comforting that is so uniquely Steve. It’s all overwhelming in the best way possible as you inch closer to the edge, and it’s too much. But somehow, it’s still not quite enough.

Like he can sense that, one of Steve’s hands grabs at yours, fingers sliding between the spaces of your fingers as he pulls your hand until he can press it into the pillows underneath you. He squeezes it tightly as his mouth finds yours in a messy kiss, as if to say I’ve got you. And sure enough, after a few moments, his other hand is traveling down the length of your body, slipping between the two of you to find your clit.

“St-Steve—” his name comes out broken and choked, followed by unintelligible sobs as pleasure thrums through your body. You feel like you’re on fire, and every one of Steve’s touches ignites another fire inside of you until you combust. It consumes you, your entire body shaking, cunt clenching around his cock as you cum. He doesn’t let up, fingertips rubbing circles against your clit, hips meeting yours in a steady rhythym, only faltering for a moment when he cums, too.

He sounds like a fucking angel; the noise he lets out as he spills inside of you is one you’re going to remember for the rest of your life, though you desperately hope you’ll get to hear it again and again. Panting into the crook of your neck, he only slows when he feels your body go lax underneath his, and he gives your hands another gentle squeeze. Between that, the mind-blowing orgasm, and the kisses that he presses along your jaw, you swear you’ve gone to heaven from all of the affection.

Slowly, he lets his body drop against yours, though not quite all the way, in fear of crushing you. You can sense his hesitance, and press your hand against his shoulders again, legs crossing at the small of his back to pull him close and keep him there, like your very own weighted blanket. He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head as he nuzzles into you, “Okay?”

“Perfect,” you murmur softly, sleepily, in response, fingertips drawing lines between freckles and moles as they make their way down his back.

You stay like that for a few moments, basking in the softness and the silence of being with each other. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt, and despite how content you are, there’s a nagging feeling in the deepest parts of your mind that make you wonder if you’ll ever get this with Steve again. He doesn’t say anything, even as he pulls his face from your neck and gazes down at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky. His hand pulls from yours, only to settle at your hairline, his thumb brushing short strokes over your temple, soft brown eyes searching yours.

Steve presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, at your cheek, close to the corner of your lips, and finally one last one to your perfect mouth, and then his warmth is gone. You watch with heavy eyes as he slips off the end of the bed and pads towards the bathroom without so much as a word. He’s back moments later, though, washcloth in hand to clean you up. And then, when he’s done, he’s back under the covers with you, an arm slung over your waist like this is your normal. There’s so much to talk about, especially when it comes to the matters of your heart, but it’ll have to wait until morning, because apparently orgasms really are helpful when trying to fall asleep, and you blink slowly as you snuggle into his touch.

“Babe?” he says quietly after a moment, fingertips tracing shapes against your bare hip.

“Mm?”

“I… I meant what I said,” he pauses for a moment, heart beating wildly in his chest, “About wanting you forever. Always have, always will. I’d love to actually take you out. Do things the right way.”

You mumble something that he can’t quite make out, and it’s only when he glances down at you on his chest to find you fast asleep. Clearly, you haven’t heard any of his confession, but he can’t be upset with how peaceful you look. He’ll tell you again in the morning.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x afab!reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #stevie #steve thots #kit writes

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luveline · 6 months

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kisses before dinner —the harrington family gets ready for a dinner party. mom!reader, 3k

"...and I told mommy she needed my help but your mom doesn't like listening to me anymore," Steve says, eyebrows pulled together, "because of that one time I told her the side of the refrigerator was supposed to feel warm and it broke. But I'm usually right."

Wren blinks at him dopily where she lies in the dip of his thighs. Steve has his knees up, back flat on the couch and head propped by a pink fluffy heart pillow from Bethie's bed to speak to her face to face.

"I promise you'll understand when you're older. I'm a genius." He strokes her little forehead. Steve's youngest daughter is too baby to look like anybody, but he's starting to think she looks like him anyway. "And now mom has to run the washing machine again when we were already super duper busy."

"Shut up!" you yell from the kitchen.

Bethie giggles from the same place, seemingly, raising her voice to join in, "Yeah, daddy! Shut up!"

"That's so not nice." Steve shakes his head at Wren in dramatic disbelief. She smiles at him. "Isn't that mean? Don't you think that's sick?"

"You're being a know-it-all again!" you continue. "And we'd be less busy if you were helping me!"

"I'm sick of helping," Steve says conversationally. "I help all day long."

Wren gurgles and lifts one of her hands toward him. Steve holds it in his, rubbing at her palm with a gentle thumb. She totally gets what he's saying, agrees with him no doubt, breathing out heavily as Steve gives her hand a wave up and down.

"Steve," you say, dropping the angry act to pull him in, "please, sweetheart, I really do need your help."

"How am I supposed to say no to that?" Steve whispers. "Does she guilt trip you that way?"

Wren doesn't giggle, but the breathy, happy sound she makes as he crunches forward to kiss her forehead is close enough to make Steve laugh himself. He moves her carefully into the curve of his arm and stands, wishing he could stretch, exhausted by another long week but undeniably happy. "Let's go see what they want," he murmurs to Wren.

You and Bethie are in the kitchen by the stove. She's wearing oven mitts too big for her, and you're crouched behind her offering steady instructions. "Don't touch the sides, my love. Only the baking tray. If it feels warm and you're not happy, tell me, and I'll take it straight away." You wear your own oven gloves.

"I can do it," Beth insists, squaring her features.

Beth takes the baking tray and its cookies into her hands, walking with short steps to the counter, where she slides the tray up high. You lean over her to make sure it's settled before closing the oven and dashing a kiss into her cheek. "Well done, gorgeous girl," you say, scratching lightly at her shoulder as she preens under the praise. "One day you'll be making cookies all by yourself."

"But not for a while?" she asks, startled.

You kiss her again. "Not for a long, long time."

"Did you need my help or my approval?" Steve asks, his hand making a small thump with each pat he taps into Wren's back. "A taste tester, right?"

"I need you to find your other daughters. I have no idea where they are," you say with a rueful smile.

"Okay." Steve has carried babies. He's carried them for years, tiny ones and ones too big to need it, carried nonetheless. But something about Wren in all her newness makes him nervous. He hates carrying her up and down the stairs, too aware of the times he's missed a step or tripped up. "Can you take her?"

"Yes!" Bethie says, running to her unofficial chair at the dining table and holding out her mitted arms as she sits.

You nod at him and take the seat next to her. Steve hands Wren over into her sister's waiting hold, more than confident you're still there to take over if things get overwhelming. Wren looks comically large in Bethie's lap.

"I have her, dad." Beth leans down to touch her nose to Wren's. "Hi, Wren. Hello, hello," she says softly.

Steve gives your cheek a swift but loving stroke and leaves in search of the other kids. He can hear Dove in her room talking to herself in make believe, but Avery, the oldest, isn't with her, nor is she in her bedroom. Steve knocks on the bathroom door.

"Are you in there, Ave?"

No answer. Steve raises his voice. "I'm coming in."

He peeks inside slowly but she's not there. Eyebrows raised, Steve asks, "Avery, where are you?" Nothing. "Avery Harrington, don't make me worry! Please."

He lets his head drift to one side, listening for an answer. Avery rarely gets told off and she hates it; she'd jump to tell him where she was if she were up here.

Or so he thinks. Just as he's taking the stairs again to look for her someplace he must have missed, he hears sniffling coming from the master bedroom.

Idiot, he thinks, relief taking tight hold. He doesn't like not knowing where the girls are. He should've checked your room to begin with.

"Ave?" he says, opening his bedroom door. "You in here?"

"I'm here, dad," she says, peering up from the space between the top of the bed and his nightstand, kneeling on the carpeted floor.

"What are you doing down there? We gotta get ready for Aunt Robin's party."

Her cheeks shine in the slice of light from the open door. Steve closes it behind him and flicks on the big light, rounding the end of the bed to help her up. He hooks his hands under her arms and pulls her into his chest, bed springs creaking as their joined weight lands.

"Why are you crying?" he asks, cuddling her to his front. "What's wrong? Why didn't you come and find me? You can't stay here crying all by yourself, that's not cool. How am I supposed to make it better if I don't know what's wrong?"

"Dove bit me."

Steve gasps. "Again?"

"On my hand, dad." She holds up her wrist. "It hurts."

He presses his cheek to the top of her head, taking her arm tenderly to analyse the bite. It's a nasty thing, not bleeding but cruel and stark. "I'm sorry," he says.

"You said I can't be mean–"

"No, you can't–"

"But it was really mean."

"I know," he murmurs, "but I just don't… we can't be mean to Dove when she bites because she doesn't know it's wrong, okay? She doesn't remember. She knows it's the wrong thing to do, but by the time I tell her she doesn't know what she did." What Steve means is that the first time Dove bit Avery, Avery reacted on impulse and slapped her sister in the stomach. There isn't a bridge yet to connect to Dove why she might have received such a thing (though Steve teaches all the girls that hitting is never okay no matter what), so Dove just thought she was being hit. It was a very tense half hour of tears.

Steve rubs Avery's back as she starts to cry in earnest. "I will tell her not to bite you, honey. I swear, I won't let her be mean to you. I'll tell her until she understands."

He's been trying to teach Dove not to bite, but saying 'no' doesn't seem to do anything. Positive incentives don't last, and taking her toys wouldn't make much sense, because again, she doesn't get it.

"You know," Steve says, wiping her cheeks tenderly, "I'll tell her again and again and again until she stops, and it'll work, because it worked with you."

"What?"

"You used to bite me sometimes, but you used to bite mom all the time."

Avery looks at him in horror. "I did?"

He puts her down onto her feet and takes her hand. He'd like to tell her this story while sitting down, but Robin's house beckons and time is running short. "Mom would come home from work and you'd be very happy to see her, but she would ask you what you did today and where we went and you'd bite her."

He peeks into Dove's room and finds her missing. Downstairs, you say, "No! No, no, babe!" and he assumes she's been found.

"Why would I do that?"

Steve holds her hand buoyed between them as he descends the stairs. "We decided it was because you missed her. When your Dove's age you don't know how to say that. You don't even know what that is. I'm a thousand years old and I don't even know what I'm feeling half the time. So mom stopped hugging you after work for a bit until you calmed down."

"But I don't go to work, dad. Why did Dove bite me?"

"What were you doing?"

"We were playing with Mr Scruffles and the care bears and she just bit me for no reason!"

Steve stops at the bottom of the stairs. "Were you being a bossy boots?"

Avery glares at him. "I just told her to stop taking Funshine bear."

"Well," Steve says, smiling at her in apology, "maybe, next time, you can come and tell me, and then I'll tell her to stop taking Funshine bear, and then when she wants to bite someone she bites me instead of you. That could work, yeah?" He would much prefer it.

Steve takes Avery to the kitchen, where you've transferred Wren into her bassinet while Bethie eats a cookie, her cheeks messy with chocolate, and Dove languishes in your arms, small hands touching your hair curiously.

"Dove, will you look at this?" he asks, showing her Avery's bite mark. "You see that, honey? That's what you did when you bit your sister. We don't bite."

You gasp. "No!" you say, stern but far from cruel. "We don't bite. We only bite when we want to eat something."

Dove frowns.

"When you bite," Steve says, trying to appeal to her smarts. It'll stick eventually. "You give Avery an owie. That's why we can't bite, okay?"

Dove can tell she's being chided even if she doesn't totally get why. "No," she says unhappily.

"Can you say sorry to Avery?" you ask, reassuring her with a gentle squeeze. "Say, I'm sorry, Avery."

"Sorry, Ave'y," she mumbles.

Avery can't glare for long. She doesn't hold a grudge, not like her dad. "It's okay. You didn't mean to."

You beam at Avery like she's hung the moon. "You're so nice, my big girl. Can I have a look at your wrist? Did that hurt?"

Her mother's concern draws fresh tears. You swap children, and Dove quickly forgets what happened as Avery cries in little sniffles on the countertop. Steve brims with a familiar brand of pride as you comfort her, kissing and offering treats to help her feel better. I picked the right one might be applicable, only Steve didn't choose you so much as he happened upon you one day like a miracle, and then begged to keep you. Luckily for him, you've always been very agreeable on that front.

(As in, you love him more than can be said in any one language.)

"What are you upto?" Steve asks Bethie.

She shows him her food-covered hands. He nods like this is awesome, but in reality chocolate stains her t-shirt and she's going to have to change before they leave. Dove rams herself against his leg and looks up with her eyes widened.

"What?" he asks.

"Um…"

"What do you want?" he asks, softer. She starts to frown again. Steve bends. "Drink? Crackers?" No dice. "What about some pear slices?"

Dove loves pears more than anything, the sticky, sugary sliced kind from the can. Her frown disappears and she walks off, thankful to be understood. Steve's just grateful he wasn't bitten.

"What else did you need?" Steve asks, winding around you where you're cleaning Avery's cheeks. A damp washcloth drips down your arm.

"More time. Have any?"

"Wren's bag is done, bottles done, Bethie's dinner." He whispers the last part. Bethie is a picky eater and she grows pickier with time, and Robin knows this, but she's not a parent (as sweet and caring as she might be for the girls). Only something you or Steve have made is something Bethie will deign to eat, and she's insecure about it despite having no reason to be. "Beth needs a new top. Your blouse needs to go in the dryer, and I can't find my nice pants. Avery?"

"I don't need anything."

"You sure? You have Mr Scruffles?"

She wraps her arms around your neck. "Just want a hug."

"Then I guess I'm busy while daddy does all my chores," you tease Steve lightly, your touch similarly soft where it tracks up and down Avery's arm. "I'm sorry Dove bit you again. It's not fair. Not fair at all. Maybe we should only have you playing downstairs until me and dad figure it out, okay? I don't want her to keep taking bits of you."

Steve clears the checklist. Not to brag or anything, but he's a pro. You both are. Life is hectic as always and you knew getting out the door would be a process, so you planned accordingly, and you arrive at Robin's with time to spare, though Dove smells strongly of sugary pears and Bethie's new shirt has fingerprints on the back.

"Hi, crew!" Robin greets. "It's my favourite Harringtons!"

"We're your only Harringtons."

"That's not true, I went to college with a Harrington." Robin ushers the girls inside. They want one thing and one thing alone —hugs. Dove is the most insistent, dropping your hand to offer Robin her arms. She picks the small girl up and smiles at her with a monumental amount of love. Robin doesn't have favourites but Dove demands it, sometimes. Avery says, "Hello, Aunt Robin," and hugs her stomach, while Bethie puts her arm behind Avery and hugs them both.

Steve's arm shakes. "Any chance I can get through? This is a really heavy baby."

"Hi," Robin says, ignoring him without guilt. "You guys are the best part about having a best friend."

Steve logs that one for later revenge and eases around the mass of bodies to take Wren into the living room. "Holy fuck," he says, "I thought you weren't coming?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I wanted to see the girls. It has nothing to do with you."

They hug and pat each other on the back, and then Eddie drops to his knees in front of Wren's car seat to smile at her. "I love her so much. Can I have this one? Y'already have so many."

"No you absolutely cannot. Where's Dustin?"

"They're all in the backyard. Mora's teaching them how to make grass flutes, or something."

"How'd you get out of that?"

Eddie shrugs. "She doesn't like me. Doesn't make any sense, goth and metal are like brothers."

"Is she goth? I thought we settled on hippie who wears dark clothing."

"You guys are such losers!" Robin says, like a tree adorned in girl-shaped ornaments. "Don't bitch about Mora."

"Don't swear in front of my kids!"

You, having taken off your shoes and coat, unlike Steve, shimmy around the table. "He said 'fucking bitch' in front of Bethie the other day," you gossip, sitting by your friend's side. Eddie gives you a quick hug. You're undoubtedly his favourite Harrington.

"He's a disgusting man who shouldn't have kids."

You gasp and elbow him. "How dare you."

"Can we go play with Stinky?" Avery asks Robin.

Robin puts Dove down, short hair flying every which way, "If you can find him. But be nice, okay? He's agitated today. Mora says it's something about the supermoon."

Avery laughs and Dove races to follow her sister up the stairs. "Ave, remember what I said, okay?" Steve calls after her. "Come and tell me if she's being bad! And no going in the bathroom!"

Bethie remains, oddly. Though it's obvious why she's stayed the longer she lingers, her gaze flickering between you and Eddie.

He holds his arms out. "Hello, Beth. You want a bro hug?"

Bethie laughs and meanders into his waiting arms, where he pat-pat-pats her back like he did to Steve, eliciting a wave of happy giggles. "You've gotten so big again!" Eddie says, moving her away kindly. "Woah!"

"I'm glad people have stopped saying that to me," you joke.

Steve's delighted, laughing loud and sudden, and you're always pleased to have made him laugh, practically collapsing in his direction. He pulls at you until you're arm's reach.

"What does that mean, Eddie?" Bethie whispers.

Eddie pulls her into his lap. "It means your mom is happy about baby Wren being born."

"I'm really happy too."

"I bet you are! Your dad told me you're like his little helper, is that true?"

Steve turns into your cheek. A quick stolen moment before he kisses under your ear and pulls away. "Wow," he says, smiling at you, "could we, like, actually have a conversation right now? A full one?"

You beam. "What do you wanna talk about?"

Steve could happily talk about everything and nothing with you. Before bed you guys are usually tired but excited enough to be alone together that you'll talk about the colour of the new dish soap or Avery's broken pinky nail. "Seen any good movies lately?"

You give him the look. He practically invented it, that sticky, gooey eyed love as you murmur, "Mm, no. Don't think so. How about you?"

He leans in for a kiss.

"Yikes," Eddie says, covering a giggling Bethie's eyes with his hands. "Robin, house rules, please!"

Steve drops his arms heavily over your shoulders for a warm hug. "He's just jealous," he whispers.

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