#joe keery fic

[rustedhearts]

Raise Hell (Nascar!Steve x fem!reader)

summary: nascar driver steve harrington is a hot mess. literally. but when he keeps coming into your diner, staggeringly drunk and adorable, you can’t help but grow fond of him.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

hot wheels masterlist main masterlist

tags: nascar!steve, reader is referred to as ‘bunny,’ just fluff and flirting.

author’s note: i don’t know much about the mechanics of nascar because i’m more of a formula one fan, so some of the racing terms/descriptions might seem a bit more f1. sorry!

raise hell, praise…harrington?

talladega, alabama, summer 1995

In Talladega, a girl’s got two things to be: a country beauty queen, or stuck at her high school job. Stupid or stuck. You were stuck—specifically, stuck balancing trays of sweet teas and cokes, and burning your palms on the underside of steaming hot burgers and flapjacks. Stuck in the same stupid powder blue uniform and frilly lace apron you’d been swearing since you were seventeen. Sometimes, you started to wonder if you were no longer stuck—just plain stupid.

But two years ago, Nascar saw a new face on the tracks: one Steve Harrington. Donned ‘Pretty Boy’ for his princely good looks and boyish charm, he burned rubber like nobody’s business, and Alabama’s been in an uproar ever since. You normally didn’t welcome midwestern men with such open and loving arms in a place like this, but as the folks say: he’s one of us, honey.

And one of you he became. He even had the slight slur of a southern twang to prove it, and you came to hear it firsthand when he sat at the end of your counter one night last October, bleary-eyed and pink-cheeked.

“What can I get you, Hot Wheels?” You hadn’t meant for the name to slip, but once it was out there, you couldn’t take it back.

Luckily, Steve just laughed. Slumped on his palm, draped over the counter full of old crumbs and sticky syrup, he pointed toward a laminated menu beside him.

“You guys sell fries?”

You gave him a basket of hot, golden french fries fresh out of the fryer, salted to perfection by yours truly. When Steve saw them sitting in front of him, practically overflowing in their red plastic, newspaper-lined confines, his eyes got huge. He devoured the basket in five minutes flat. You turned your back to clean the coffee pot, and when you went to check on him, offer a glass of water to rouse him from drunken stupor, he was gone.

Sitting in his empty, grease-splattered basket were two hundred dollar bills. It’s still the largest tip you’ve ever gotten on such a small bill to date (or…on any bill).

When Steve Harrington stopped by the diner, you went home with a thicker wallet, a swollen heart, and a burning blush on your face.

You always heard his arrival before you saw his face. The smooth, low grumble of his Ferrari engine. His headlights blared through the blinds on the diner windows, whipping with effortless expertise into the front spot near the door. The headlights cut off, and moments later the door chimed as his lean figure stumbled through.

Designer sneakers scuffing the floor, black leather racing jacket with endorsement patches ironed on neat gleaming beneath the white fluorescents of the diner. He smelled like gasoline and boozy cologne—or maybe that was just the booze. Steve's favorite bar was just up the road: a swanky wood-paneled joint with a mechanical bull, and girls just out of college in skimpy denim shorts and leather cowboy boots. He always left with pink-tinged cheeks and a sway in his step, and though you disapproved of getting behind the wheel under the influence, you didn't mind that he raced all the way here just to get to you.

Tonight, like every night, he strode straight toward the counter and took his seat on a squeaky metal stool at the end.

He patted the counter, shot a finger gun at you, and smiled a half-cocked grin. "Hey, pretty girl."

Cheeks blazing, you rolled your eyes as you collected the coffee pot—freshly brewed just for him—and his basket of sizzling, golden fries. You placed the fries in front of him and flipped over a porcelain mug, pouring a steady stream until it pooled around the rim. No room for cream or sugar: how Steve liked it best. He was already five fries in by the time you placed the coffee pot back.

"Hey, Hot Wheels. Catch anythin' good tonight?"

Elbows pressed against the counter, you leaned over the stack of sticky menus and extra ketchup bottles to flash him your sweetest smile. You always laid it on real thick for guys like him. None of 'em tipped like Steve did, and none of 'em were nearly as handsome. None of 'em made you laugh like Steve did. Jesus, how stupid was that?

"Nothin' worth bringin' home, Bun," Steve sighed, head falling to his palm as his fingers made quick work of delivering fries straight to his mouth.

"Better luck next time." You shrugged, though you knew what this game was.

"No," Steve mused, eyes narrowed with a twinkle of mockery, lips coated in shiny grease and flecks of salt. "No, I don't think so. Know who I'd love to take out, though?"

You pulled away from the counter, that familiar flutter in your chest. You reached for the damp rag previously soaked in lemon sanitizing spray, wiping at the crumbs behind the counter. Steve always came in right when you were closing up. The first time he stumbled in, you threatened to kick him out, but something about those stupid puppy dog eyes and that sly, halfway smile made you stop. You always agreed to close on weekends, just to stay back and clean up after the strays and Steve Harrington. The diner was quiet, only the buzz of old lights and the distant whoosh of cars on the road keeping you company until he appeared.

"Who?" you asked, eyes flicking his way as he munched on his fries. The newspaper in his basket crinkled with his eager snatching.

Steve lifted his head, movements slow and bleary, and in your periphery, you could see it follow your every motion. His jacket made his shoulders look broad and big. You could smell the cigarette remnants still on his hands when you moved in front of him again.

"Come on, Bun," he huffed, that poor, sweet attempt at an Alabama drawl clinging to every word. The way he said your given nickname made your heart squeeze.

"Come on, what?" You flashed him a smile, pursed lips and scrunched nose, and he shook his head amusedly at it. He thought you were so beautiful, even in this ridiculous 1950s getup, hair frazzled and face gleaming with heat.

"When are you gonna let me take you out, sweetheart?" he pouted, hand bumping his empty, grease-stained basket when he dropped it to the counter.

Though your insides were stirring and the back of your neck felt like someone was giving it a pinch, you spun on your heel and reached for the coffee pot again, feigning an air of cool ease. You never wanted a man to have the upper hand on you, no matter how pretty that man might be. Your daddy taught you better than that.

Pressing close to the counter, you held the pot midway in the air, hovering, and caught Steve's eye. His were all whiskey brown and muddy green, more hazel than anything. It was only at this moment that you heard the Willie Nelson song humming on the jukebox in the corner. His lips parted when your eyes narrowed, catlike and dreamily charming.

You inched closer, leaning in like you were fixing to whisper a secret. "When you come in sober, Mr. Harrington."

You topped off his untouched coffee, placed the pot back, and sashayed toward the tables to wipe them down (for the second time tonight). Behind you at the counter, Steve gnawed on his lip, head tipping to admire the backs of your thighs where they caught the plump flesh of your ass beneath your shorts. He scoffed to himself, snatching the mug thrumming with heat, slurping at the potent black liquid.

If sober was what you wanted, sober you would get.

♡ ♡

Nascar was always on channel two, and when your manager Rod was working, he insisted on playing it on the tiny television behind the counter. He paced between the office in the sticky kitchen and the space behind the counter, munching on peanuts and sipping a jumbo Pepsi from the morning.

"Rod, maybe you should have somethin' else to eat." You whooshed a platter of burgers and fries over his head as you rushed toward your table.

"Nah, I'm waitin' for that-that Harrin'ton kid to come on," he excused, motioning toward the tv with a salted peanut palm.

You bit back a grin, sliding the plates onto the table for your eager customers. Wiping your hands on your apron, you headed back to the counter and leaned on the other side.

"What, excited to watch his engine crap out again?” you teased, giggling at Rod’s offended expression before flouncing off toward the kitchen for your break.

“That kid might not be from here, but he’s one of us now, Bunny!” Rod called after you, accent thick and slurred loose.

You waved a hand, eyes rolling. “Why d’ you think I give him such a hard time, Rod?”

You heard his hoarse chuckle as you hopped up on the empty steel tabletop in the kitchen, snatching a soggy fry from a half-empty basket. The cooks all murmured about a table that sent back a burger (there’s always one), and asked you about your shift today. The occasional ‘how are the kids,’ and ‘your garden holding up well in this heat?’ ensued, but most of them knew that when you had a moment to yourself back here, you preferred it in silence.

Billy, a line cook a few years older than yourself, whizzed by with a greasy silver spatula and a plate of perfect, crispy grilled cheese. He slipped it onto your lap as he passed, eye dropping in a wink, before he returned to the grill. You grinned in thanks, picking up the warm, shiny sandwich.

You were halfway through the first triangular slice when a holler jolted you on the table. You dropped the slice, rushing to place the plate on the table and skitter into the dining room again. Head whipping around, you searched for some sort of disaster—a hurt child, a choking customer—and found Rod screaming at the television, red-faced and glistening with sweat.

Huffing, you collapsed against the counter. “Rod, what the hell?”

Rod didn’t tear his eyes away from the television as he smacked his hands together. “Aw, come on! His car’s crappin’ out, he’s gon’ have t’ leave the race.”

You shifted toward the television, preparing to scoff at the urgency of Rod’s statement when sparks skidded over the track on the screen. Even in their pixelated form, the sparks were bright and sharp as a firework on independence day. You watched the cherry red car bounce, jostling the driver inside—clear cause for a biting backache. The car veered left, then right, then toward the off track where Steve stopped it.

Rod cursed, slapping his knee and shaking his head.

“Got-damnit,” he shrilled, easing up from the stool. “When’re they gonna put ‘im in a car that actually drives?”

Rolling your eyes and attempting to ignore the ball of worry the size of Texas aching in your chest, you slid away from the counter and headed back toward the kitchen where your food waited.

“When are you gonna get t’ work, Rod?”

“Eh.”

♡ ♡

That night, you soaked the linoleum in lemon cleaner and scrubbed at the vinyl booths, lights dimmed to keep customer count low until you actually closed. Rod left a few hours ago, and only a handful of cooks lingered in the back, shooting the shit and sharing smokes. You liked having the dining room to yourself while you closed up, humming along the radio and watching the road through the windows. You fantasized about a life with enough money to never wipe a table again.

Given the day he had on the track, the last person you expected to see that night was Steve Harrington. So when the door chimed open and shoes squeaked across the freshly-cleaned tile, you whirled around with a customer-approved smile in preparation for a sweet but curt “we’re about to close.” However, the customer service facade dimmed at the sight of that familiar pretty face and those colorful ironed-on insignias.

“Hey, Bun.” He sounded breathless and beat.

"Hey," you squeaked, dumbfounded by the sight of him.

The outline of his helmet still sat on his face: aggravated red lines indented around his eyes, across his cheeks and nose. His hands, Ferrari-red and raw, trembled as they swept through his tousled hair. "Mind if I sit, Bun? Long day."

Which is how he ended up slumped in a clean booth, head of slick locks thumped against the glass. It felt odd to see him in an actual seat instead of his usual at the bar, but he needed the rest. You could only imagine the sort of strain a car going 200 miles an hour while jerking around had on someone.

You slipped into the kitchen, and with a meek and quiet plead, had the cooks make one last batch of fries fresh for Steve before they left. Just enough for the driver to get his strength back up and feel at home again. The fried pile of grease glistened and sizzled in their plastic confinement on the way out of the kitchen, a cold glass of Pepsi fizzing in your other hand.

You brought them to the man still drooped in the furthest booth, head tipping to find his eyes. "Steve?"

"Hmm?" Blearily, the racer sat upright and blinked at you.

Flashing him a fond smile, you pushed the basket of fries closer to him. "Food."

"Oh."

He munched on the crispy golden potatoes for a while in silence. The back door clinked with the absence of cooks. You thought about getting up to flip the sign over to 'sorry we're closed!' but you couldn't find it in yourself to leave the table. Eventually, you slid into the booth across from him and watched him eat. He sucked down the Pepsi through a striped straw like a toddler gulping apple juice.

"Why did you come here tonight? I mean...you're in no shape, Hot Wheels," you remarked, watching him rub his fingers free of salt.

Steve's eyes flickered toward you below his brows, chin tipped toward his food. He straightened up when he saw you watching, giving his shoulders a shrug. He smelled like scorched rubber, gasoline, and a bit of bourbon-whisky.

"Had a shit day," he muttered, eyes returning to his fries with urgency. "Knew seein’ you would cheer me up."

A flutter disrupted the rhythm thumping in your chest. You felt it in your throat, too, settling like indigestion. You swallowed harshly to clear it away, easing the wonderment in your face with a little grin. Steve went back to finishing the thin strips of fry remnants sitting at the bottom of his basket.

Stripped free of liquored charm and that 'pretty boy' suave, Steve Harrington actually seemed...sweet.

"Hey, Hot Wheels?"

Steve looked up, lips glassy with grease. "Yeah?"

"You can take me on that date now."

♡ ♡

[ash5monster01]

Cold Spring Harbor

Chapter One - She’s Got A Way 🎶

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, instant attraction, invisible string theory, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of death, coping mechanisms

Summary: Just when Steve figures he’s bound to be alone the rest of his life, somehow he finds you, and for some reason just being near you makes him feel much less alone in the world.

word count: 2k

→ Two

Masterlist

Spring 1985

She's got a way of showin', how I make her feel

Steve hated being sad. Yet for the last six months that was all he had felt. He should be over it by now. He wished he was over it, but everyday he went to school just to see Nancy with Johnathon and know everything that he lost. He had given up his friends for her, and when she gave him up for Johnathon, he had no one left. No happy family to come home to, and no friends to spend time with, especially no girlfriend to love. Maybe that was why it was so hard to get over her, because she was the only person he had left and she left him too.

So he woke up on the first day of spring break, no parents, no plans, no one at all. It didn’t matter that the first warm sun was shining through his window and the birds chirped happily outside. He figured he would always be alone and he was still just as miserable as before. The only person he did have was Dustin but how many times can you ask a middle schooler to hang out before it gets weird? Steve didn’t want to find out.

He wasn’t going to last all of spring break like this so he was going to do the only thing that made him feel better. The only thing that gave him enough motivation to get out of bed and get ready for the day. So it’s not long until he is walking out the front door and towards his car. Yet before he unlocked it he stopped, eyes glancing into the bright blue sky, and deciding against the drive. It was sunny and almost seventy, plus a walk would be good for him. So he stuffed the keys back in his pocket and started down the road.

Town was half empty once he got there, signs showing that the new mall being built was already taking away business. It was sad to see the town that once was so busy become a shell of nothing. Kind of like him he supposed. Yet the sight of the familiar blue door eased his mind as he pushed in the one place he hoped would be here forever.

“Hey man, long time no see” Ron, the owner smiles from behind the register. Steve matches the smile right back even though he doesn’t feel it. He wished he did.

“Hey Ron, how’s business been?” he asks, eyeing the various shelves throughout the room.

“I wish I could say busy, but ever since word got out that Sam Goody was being built in the mall, no one really cares about Ron’s Records anymore” he says and Steve nods, his throat tightening at the thought.

“I’m sorry about that man, you know I’ll be a customer for life” he tells him and Ron nods, smiling at the boys kindness.

“You and your Grandpa both” Ron says kindly and Steve has to look away before tears form in his eyes.

“I’m gonna check some records out” Steve tells him and Ron nods as he moves to the section he knows it will be at.

Finally reaching the B’s his fingers start skimming the records. It feels like he’s passed a hundred Barry Manilow records by the time he reaches exactly what he’s looking for. Smiling to himself he scans which ones are there, determined what would be the best to listen to. Something that for an entire forty minutes could make him feel much less lonely in this world.

“Billy Joel huh?” Steve looks up and nearly freezes. There you are, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and something about the world stops. He’s not one to be shy but it’s as if the words somehow can’t leave his mouth. There was just something about you. “Since when do boys your age listen to Billy Joel?”

“Hey, he’s still rock n’ roll to me” Steve defends, and it’s cheesy. He knows that, but it doesn’t stop you from laughing. You’re wearing the most perfect smile he’s ever seen and he wants to make you do it again.

“I’m not saying he isn’t, just most guys these days don’t know good music anymore” you say, pulling the record out of his hands and he almost gasps at the way your fingers feel against his.

“Well good music to me is just Billy, always has been” he says and you give him a small nod, smile still on your face. He briefly wonders what it could be about you that makes him suddenly so content.

“Cold Spring Harbor? I don’t think I’ve ever heard it” you say and Steve’s heart clenches.

“It’s his first album, he was only 22 when he wrote it. It’s one of my favorites” Steve tells you and the mischievous grin you give him makes his heart stutter in his chest.

“Well let’s listen to it” you tell him, hand grabbing his own, and leading him to the front of the building. In the front window there’s two chairs and small record player in between. They had been there for as long as Steve could remember, he had sat in them hundreds of times. He sits in his, the one chair he always sat in, and you sit, well in the other. His throat dries as he sees you sit across from him in the chair that had been empty for many years.

“What’s your favorite track?” you muse, hands delicately working to pull the record from its sleeve and place it on the player.

"The first one, She's Got A Way. It was my Grandpa's favorite, the first Billy song he ever played me" Steve says, looking off onto the rows and rows of records. Remembering a time when he was just short enough to be the same height as them. Rushing around and looking for the most colorful covers while his Grandpa went straight to the B's. Then he'd sit in the very chair he was now, ankles just barely hanging over the edge as his Grandpa played him song after song, in the very seat you were sitting in now.

"So that's where it comes from" you muse, the record spinning as you turn on the machine. Steve watches as you set the needle on the record, sratching till it finds its groove, and fills the silence between you both.

"Why is it his favorite?" you ask after a few moments, watching the boy as he let's the words sink in.

"He claimed it was the only song he ever heard that perfectly described how he felt about my Grandmother. How the right women could completley turn you around and heal you when you least expect it" Steve smiles fondly as he repeats those words he hadn't in a very long time.

"A charmer, I'm sure you are too" you say and the shocked look Steve wears has you laughing lightly. It takes Steve only a second to laugh along with you, realizing just how quickly you had revealed him. It's when your laughter calms he realizes the smile on your face has eased his heart more in the last six months than anything else.

"If you must know" Steve says and you giggle again which has Steve wanting to spend more and more time with you.

"Where is this Grandpa of yours, I have a few questions for him?" you ask and Steve freezes, not expecting the words to leave your mouth. It takes him a moment to respond and you sense the discomfort and place your hand on his own. Steve nearly jumps at the electric touch that comes from it.

"He passed away when I was fifteen, right before high school" he tells you, throat tightening around the admittance.

"I'm so sorry, that's awful" you try to comfort but Steve just smiles.

"You would have loved him though. Everyone did. He was my best friend, the only family I really had that spent time with me. Since my Grandma passed when I was ten, me and him made sure to spend all of middle school together" Steve isn't entirely sure why he is telling you this, he just knows your the first person he has been this comfortable around since his Grandpa and he didn't even know your name yet. He didn’t know what it was about you but he figured there didn't need to be a reason.

"That's so sweet, he sounds so special" you tell him and Steve nods, recalling memories he hadn't allowed himself to think about for years.

"He was, just wish he was still around. He was the only person to ever be there for me, front row at every swim meet and basketball game. Was hard going through highschool knowing he was no longer in the stands, but Billy. Well that's all me and him ever talked about. So sometimes, on days like today when I miss him a little extra, I find him in the lyrics of a song" and your heart soars for the boy in front of you. A boy with a deep sadness buried within him. A boy the world hadn't given a chance yet.

"Is he there right now?" you can't help but ask, the last few lines of the song coming through the speakers on the machine. Steve listens, can practically see his Grandpa yelling at him for not making a move. ‘At least ask her name’ he groans and Steve chuckles lightly to himself.

"Yeah he's here. He always is" Steve says and you give him a smile that somehow heals him. "I'm Steve by the way"

"Nice to meet you Steve" you tell him before offering your own name and Steve finds it rattling through his head, the most beautiful name in all of existence, and somehow it belongs to you. The very girl who showed up while he was feeling down and has inspired him without a sound. The beginning notes of You Can Make Me Free fill the silence between you both and Steve sits up, realizing your hand is still atop his own.

"Sorry for spilling my guts" Steve says and you shake your head, wanting him to know that he had done nothing wrong this entire time.

"Don't be, it actually happens a lot. I seem to make people very comfortable. Guess I just got a way about me" and Steve agrees because somehow in just this short exchange you have inspired him to keep on going, reminded him that this is not the end and it won't be all bad. It is like you have some bright light around you and it gives him the strength to keep going.

"Would you maybe want to go get something to eat?" Steve finds the confidence to ask and you beam a smile brightly back at him.

"I'd love to Steve" you tell him, using his name like it now somehow belongs to you and Steve wishes it does. A million dreams of love surrounding you and for the first time since Nancy he finds himself feeling something for a girl he never thought he'd feel again. He just knows he no longer wants to live without you.

"Have fun you two" Ron calls out as you both exit, the record still playing as you both leave it behind. You talk the whole way to the small diner in town, Steve just smiles and listens, loving how everything sounds the way it comes out your mouth. It's as if every word lifts him up as you are walking.

For the rest of the day Steve does his part getting to know you. Making you laugh and flirting where necessary which never fails to make you blush. The sight of your red cheeks alone make his heart soar for you. It's cute the way you show it, exactly how you feel about him. In return you do find yourself charmed by the very boy you couldn’t resist talking to. You wondered where a sweet boy like him had been your whole life and for the first time you aren't as embarassed by the blush on your cheeks as you normally would be.

"I really like you Rosy" he says matter of fact, the nickname falling easily from his lips. You blush at his words again, shaking your head at the boy you figure you aren't getting rid of anytime soon.

"I like you too Steve"

Taglist: @slvtforstve @keerygal @goosy-goose @livsters @blckburd @loveshotzz @ohwauwdoritos @superblysubpar @southereads @amataadriana @violet2022 @mxrcjqckspnchqsc @madaboutjoe @thunderstomp-and-tequila @justdamnpeachy @micheledawn1975 @fangfatale @kingstevesgf @notlilyyyy @eddiesguitarskills @palmtreesx3

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

[judeswhore]

quiet for me; steve harrington

summary: you find yourself locked in the bathroom of family video with steve’s hand clamped over your mouth as you try your hardest not to get caught.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

requested: no

warnings: smut, 18+, fingering, oral (m) receiving, unprotected sex

notes: feedback is appreciated! you can find my masterlist here.

it was risky. god it was so risky, family video was still flowing with customers and both robin and keith were in and out of the back room, passing so close to the bathroom they were certain to be able to hear your quiet breaths. but, as always, steve couldn’t help himself. couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering along your legs from the second you walked through the doors after the end of your own shift, images of having those exact legs wrapped around his waist last night having his cock twitching in his trousers immediately. even in your ridiculous waitress outfit you still looked hot, your lips plump and glossy, cheeks frost bitten from the biting wind outside and he knew he wouldn’t be able to survive the rest of his shift without something from you.

which is exactly how his thirty minute break in which he’d usually drive you home had turned into fucking you in the bathroom at family video, trying his hardest to keep you both quiet. the bathroom was small, thankfully clean, and steve had you pressed up against the wall, your underwear stuffed in the back pocket of his trousers as he worked a line of hot kisses over your jaw. you could hear customers, robin’s so obviously false laugh and keith’s monotone voice but they sounded warped, muffled and distorted from the pleasure already trickling like honey down your spine when steve’s fingers found your clit.

you gave a quiet moan into his mouth and dug your nails into the skin on his bicep, hips pressing forward as though begging him for more. you were already dripping, turned on and overly frustrated simply just from steve's addictive kisses. he'd had you pressed up against the wall for what seemed like hours, his fingers fumbling beneath your shirt, lips alternating between your mouth and paying attention to which spots on your neck would bring out those whimpery sighs he adored so much. he'd pressed scorching open mouthed kissed over your throat, fingers of one hand wrapped in your hair to keep your head tilted back so he could nip lightly at your skin.

his fingers started off slow, the very tips of them brushing barely there circles against your clit, feather light and driving you insane. steve knew your body and it’s reactions like the back of his hand, he knew just what to do to have you crying out his name and coming within minutes. he kept his lips against yours, swallowing your sighs and moans while pressing against your clit just that little bit harder. his other hand tightened in your hair, his chest heaving slightly as he nipped at your bottom lip, well aware that his cock was leaking in his underwear and knowing there was no way he was gonna last anywhere near as long as he wanted once he finally slid into you.

your hips bucked against his hand, back arching off the wall when steve’s attention left your clit and you felt the tips of his fingers tease your entrance. he was slow in sliding two of his fingers in, taunting you with a smirk as you met his gaze, expression one of pleasure and need. your eyes were already dark and glassy, so fucked out that steve couldn’t stop his light chuckle. his fingers slid knuckle deep into you and your gasp bounced off the walls.

“look at you, already wrecked and i’ve barely touched you.” you whined in response, still gripping his bicep with one hand, the other tangling in his hair so you could tug just the way he liked. his eyes stayed locked on yours, his fingers starting up a slow rhythm, pulling out and pushing back in, curling upwards to find that one spot before drawing back out. the palm of his hand glided easily over your clit and with a moan of his name you let your hips grind against it, eager for a release. “gonna let me fuck you? hmm? want me to ruin your pretty little pussy until everyone knows what i’m doing to you?”

“steve, oh god.” your legs almost buckled beneath you at his words and the way his fingers found that pillowy spot inside of you, your mind turning to fog as your pussy clenched around his fingers. feeling you tighten around him, squeezing his fingers so good until he thought your orgasm had actually crept up on you, steve gave his own low moan. you could hear the wet filthy sounds of his fingers, could feel where you’d dripped down your thighs and you couldn’t stop the string of profanities that fell from your lips. his thumb found your clit again and he went back to his slow taunting circles as your building orgasm trickled away, his fingers still pumping in and out at a ridiculously painful pace, far too slow for your liking.

“if i fuck you i’m gonna need you to be quiet for me, okay? can’t have keith finding you stuffed with my cock now can we?” you only whimpered, shaking your head as you tried once again to buck your hips against the palm of his hand, your clit still throbbing and demanding attention. steve wasn’t satisfied with your non verbal answer and he pinched your clit between his thumb and pointer finger to get your attention. “words, sweetheart.”

“no,” you shook your head again, releasing a shuddery breath when steve pulled his fingers from you, holding back the whine at the empty feeling it left behind. “i can be quiet.” he grinned at you, already starting to unbuckle his belt.

“good girl.” you let your eyes drop to where he was fumbling to get rid of his trousers, pushing them down just passed his ass, only enough for his cock to spring out. he was painfully hard, tip coated with pre cum and he gave a satisfied him when you dragged your thumb over the slit. his hands found your thighs and he was quick to hoist you up against the wall, your legs locking around his waist, one hand still buried in his hair, the other reaching up to wrap around the pipe running along the wall for some sort of stability.

steve suddenly gave a light laugh, that domineering cloud shifting ever so slightly from over his head as he pressed a messy kiss to your lips, tongue gliding against your own. “god i really fucking hope we don’t get caught.”

“i could get you a job at the diner if you get fired.” you let out your own giggle, one that quickly fell into a moan when steve pushed his hips forward and the tip of his cock bumped your clit.

“yeah? not sure i could pull that skirt off the way you do. i haven’t got the legs for it.” you gave another breathless laugh, pressing your lips over his jaw, your kisses messy and uncoordinated as you tried to reach every bit of skin you could.

“you’re an idiot, steve harrington.”

“yeah, yeah.” his words tapered off, one hand leaving your thigh so he could grip his cock. you both watched with held breaths as he teased it through your folds, slicking it with your wetness so he could slip into your easier. but he was teasing, taking longer than he needed to, riling you up with quick bumps to your clit that had you jolting, your pussy growing wetter with each drawn out movement until you were certain you were making a mess.

“steve.” it was a whine, paired with a quick pull on his hair, your eyes meeting his as he looked back up at you. his cheeks were flushed, skin sweaty, eyes so dark you couldn’t really make out the pupils and you knew in that moment that the second you left the bathroom, steve’s expression alone would give you away.

“shh, i know.” he gave a light peck to your lips and in one thrust buried himself completely inside of you, his head falling to your shoulder so he could muffle his groan. his fingers tightened on your thigh, most definitely leaving bruises and he gave a shaky breath when he felt you clench around him. you were so warm and wet and it didn’t matter how many times he fucked you he would never get used to how tight you were. sometimes he joked that you were made just to fit him but when he was bottomed out inside you and could feel every inch of your soft walls wrapped around him he really believed it. “fuckin’ hell, baby.”

his words came out as a half throaty laugh, half groan and you just nodded, breathless and slightly dizzy with the feeling of him seated so deep inside of you. the pleasurable stretch had rendered you speechless and so the only thing you did was run your fingers through his hair, letting your other hand fall to grip his shoulder. the angle had the bottom of his shirt brushing against your clit and you gave a pathetic whimper when he finally shifted his hips, pleasure curling in your stomach.

he’d already pushed you almost right to the brink of your orgasm just with his fingers so you knew you wouldn’t last long, your head tipping back to hit the wall when he pulled almost completely out of you before pushing back in. his pace started off slow, just a lazy drag of his hips, pulling half out before filling you back up again and you could feel every inch of him stretching your walls, each careful thrust making you clamp down around him. the slick sounds of him entering you and your soft moans bounced around the bathroom, almost echoing off the tiles and your body turned hot with embarrassment at how dirty it all sounded.

you were used to having sex with steve in his house or yours, sometimes if you were both feeling extra needy, he’d fuck you in the back of his car but you’d never had sex in somewhere so public before. the store was still busy and the thought that there were people just on the opposite side of the wall filled you with nerves at potentially being heard but you couldn’t deny that there was a certain thrill to it. you knew you could get caught any minute, someone could come knocking to use the bathroom, and for some reason that sent an extra hazy flood of pleasure to your head, steve grunting when he felt you get impossibly wetter.

his thrusts were getting faster and harder, the sound of his skin slapping against yours no doubt one hundred percent recognisable outside and on a particularly harsh pump of his hips you gave a high pitched moan. your body had jolted up the wall, steve’s hand coming down to cover your mouth as his thrusts continued that punishing pace, cock slamming into your repeatedly as your orgasm licked up your skin.

“i thought you said you could be quiet.” steve’s cock was hitting all the right places, stretching you and filling you up so good and his shirt brushing over your clit was making your head spin. he knew you were close, you couldn’t stop clenching around him and your desperate whines and moans where getting louder despite being muffled by his hand. you kept pulling at his hair, another sign you were almost there and he turned his head to press his lips against the side of your face, brushing the lightly over your ear. “be a good girl and cum for me.”

you didn’t need to be told again, the knot in your stomach released and you came around his cock with a cry, head dropping back again as you clung to him. pleasure rippled through you, your walls fluttering around steve until his own hips began to falter, his thrusts growing sloppy and without rhythm. your thighs shook around his waist, nails digging harshly into his shoulder and the back of his neck as he fucked you through it, the quick push and pull of his cock prolonging the aftershocks of your orgasm until your chest stopped heaving and you loosened your grip around him.

he let his hand fall from your mouth and pressed it instead beside your head for leverage, his lips settling over yours in a soft kiss. he was fucking you slowly, each snap of his hips hard however, hitting so deep your body slid up the wall. your fingers were soft in his hair and you were breathless, voice scratchy when you spoke.

“cum in my mouth.” steve, too caught up in his pleasure, his orgasm teetering just out of reach, barely heard you, only hummed lightly in response and buried his cock just that little bit deeper on his next thrust. “steve,” you tugged his hair, bringing his blown out gaze down to yours. “want you to cum in my mouth.” he made a noise low in the back of his throat and then nodded, pulling out of you with a gentle groan before setting your feet back on the floor, his head dropping to watch you fall to your knees.

“fuckin’ hell.” despite wanting to watch you, his head fell back the second your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, one hand sliding into your hair, the other still pressed to the wall. you knew he was close and it wouldn’t take long for him to cum but you still teased him, dragging your tongue along the vein running down the length of him, settling your palms against his thighs before you took him entirely down your throat. steve’s hips bucked, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat while you held back your gag, the feeling of your tongue and lips around him making his head spin.

he was moaning within seconds, holding the back of your head to control your movements, finally letting his eyes fall to you. you glanced up at him through your lashes, breathing heavily through your nose as he held his cock completely down your throat. he grunted when you attempted to swallow around him, drawing his hips back to let you take a breath. wanting nothing more than for him to cum however you took him straight back into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head before letting it glide along him, bobbing your head until you felt him twitch.

“god you look so fucking pretty like that. always look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” the praise made you hum in satisfaction, the vibrations rocketing up steve’s spine and then he was coming. he held your head in place, fingers tangled in your hair and watched you take every single drop he had to offer before he was pulling out, completely spent and suddenly extra sensitive. a drop of his cum was dripping down your chin and he watched with parted lips as you swiped it with your tongue, sucking it back into your mouth with a light moan.

you leant forward and pressed a kiss to his thigh, lips lingering for a few seconds before you started to stand, steve’s hands reaching for yours to pull you up and into his chest. you were clearly warn out, a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin but you still made his heart pound as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, gently tucking your hair behind your ear.

“well that was-” your words were cut off by a bang to the bathroom door, the flimsy lock rattling as steve startled, hands fumbling to tuck his cock away and pull his trousers back up.

“you two are disgusting!” robin’s voice slid through the door, high and teasing and steve’s cheeks immediately turned pink, his startled eyes darting to yours. you were both silent, watching each other like two deer caught in headlights, still sporting that post orgasm glow. you were the first to laugh, falling forward to tuck your face away in his chest, embarrassment crawling up your spine now that your immediate pleasure was gone.

“there’s no way we’re doing that again.”

[katyswrites]

you're a bandit like me

Pairing: Baron Lamram/afab!reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), references to crime, unprotected p in v, oral sex (reader receiving), sneaky links, no use of y/n, SPOILERS for Marmalade

Wordcount: 3k

A little blurb about Baron - takes place after the end of the movie, later that night. A universe in which you're his sneaky link, and a partner-in-crime - and he needs you, now.

It starts with a knock on your door in the middle of the night. You’re in bed, flicking between channels, ultimately settling on the late-night news to hopefully help lull you to sleep. 

You’re half-conscious, the reporter’s voice a dull din in the background.

“- federal agents have given a new description of the suspect, who they say they have previously mis-identified as a female -”

You’re falling asleep in the blue glow of the television, until you hear the frantic tapping on your door. You jump, suddenly alert - you covertly grab your gun off of the nightstand - you never sleep without it nearby -, and slowly walk towards the door, consciously avoiding the squeakiest floorboards. The knocking is continuing, and part of you worries that the cops have truly, finally caught up to you. You bring your eye up to the peephole, and breathe a sigh of relief.

He’s standing there, the same as ever, if not a bit more tired-looking. And -

“You cut your hair,” you say, breathing a sigh of relief. 

Baron nods.

“Yeah, I did. Planning to use that on me?” he asks. You glance down at the gun in your hand, and laugh, putting it down.

“No - sorry, I just - can never be too careful.”

He nods, a mutual understanding shared between the two of you. You step back, not even needing him to ask to be invited in, bolting the door behind him. 

You hadn’t heard from him in weeks, but that’s typical - you only reach out when you need each other. Though, he usually at least prefaces his visits with a phone call.

“What’s going on -”

You don’t get a chance to finish, because his lips are on yours, hands holding your face to pull you close to him. You let your eyes flutter shut, kissing him back with a bit of desperation - he tastes like menthol cigarettes, and the flavor of gum he likely just chewed to try and cover it up.

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling his body impossibly closer to yours - you’ve only managed to make it a few feet inside the doorway. It nearly kills you to pull away, just to look at him.

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly.

He nods, lips slightly swollen from yours.

“Yeah - I - it’s all good. Just had a long day.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Long how?”

You know what Baron gets up to when you don’t see him - you and him are alike, in that way. You rarely go into the details of each other’s misdeeds - except, perhaps, the occasions when he shows up to your place with a sack full of cash, begging for you to get him a car, or a weapon, or a fake ID - whatever he needs. You’re always happy to oblige - it’s your specialty, after all. You’re even the one who taught him how to hotwire, even though he’ll never admit that. Sometimes he comes for a few days, just to lay low - you’ve done the same, just a few times. Only when he’s passing through, trying to throw someone off of his trail. But something is different this time. 

He just shakes his head.

“You’ll find out in tomorrow’s papers, I’m sure.”

You nod in understanding.

“Were you followed?”

“No - don’t think so. Pretty sure I shook them back in Alabama.”

You just bring your hand up to card it through his hair, chuckling.

“Almost didn’t recognize you,” you say.

“Do you like it?”

You can’t help but smile.

“Oh, yeah - it’s really nice. Kind of… sexy, actually.”

He smirks, his face reddening a bit.

“Well, if I had known you’d say that, I would’ve done it a long time ago.”

“Does it… is this anything to do with your long day?”

He just nods solemnly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Okay,” you say - it’s enough information, for now. “So… I’m guessing you’re not here just to hide out, are you?”

The corner of his mouth twitches, fighting another smirk.

“No.”

Then you’re kissing him again, pulling him down by his shirt collar. He sighs against your lips, wrapping his arms around you as his tongue enters your mouth.

“Bedroom,” you murmur, bringing him with you as you step backwards down the hallway.

You stumble through the doorway together, never pulling your lips away from one another. He’s holding your face in his hands again, gently, as if he’s worried you might break. It’s a contrast from his mouth, rough and demanding against yours.

You reach for his leather jacket, helping him shoulder it off and throw it on the floor.

“Need you,” he grumbles. “I - I just -”

“It’s okay,” you say, placing a finger on his lips. 

There’s always been a mutual understanding between you two, ever since he first came to you two years ago, looking for a car and a gun. You hadn’t questioned why - in your line of “work,” you never did. But, there was something else, too - your lifestyles made it impossible to do this with anyone else. Other people were dangerous - they asked too many questions. Baron, on the other hand… you know it’s not even his real name. He doesn’t know yours, either - it’s better that way. Pseudonyms keep things easier, and make this only one, incredibly small part of your life. Sometimes, all you needed from each other was someone to touch, to hold. Still, it doesn’t change how much you miss him every time he disappears on you.

But he’s here now, and he wants you - no, needs you, in his words. 

So you start unbuttoning his shirt, kissing his neck as you do. He groans, hand coming up to cup the back of your head and pull your lips back to his.

He pushes you back gently, leading you to the bed until the backs of your knees are hitting the mattress.

You fall back a bit gracelessly, and he follows you, reaching desperately for the hem of your oversize t-shirt. You oblige, pulling it over your head to reveal your breasts to him.

“No bra?” he asks, grinning.

“I was about to go to sleep, until you -”

And he’s kissing you again, hand pressed against the small of your back. It begins to wander, calloused hands brushing against your soft skin, covering the expanse of your back until he comes around to cup your breasts. You kiss him desperately, gasping as he toys with your nipples. You bury your face in his neck, your sensitive buds hardening under his touch.

“You like that, baby?” he coos. You just moan into his skin, reaching down to fumble with his belt buckle.

It’s not long until you’ve rid each other of all your other clothes, and he’s pushed you back onto the mattress, crawling over you. 

He smiles down at you, face hovering inches from yours.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hey.”

“I just - thanks.”

“For what?” you ask.

“Always answering the door, picking up the phone, just - saving my ass, over and over again.”

“It’s what we do,” you say, pulling him down for another kiss. “We help each other.”

“You’re really helpin’ me right now,” he says, chuckling.

Then he’s reaching down, his fingers brushing against your cunt, and you gasp.

“Need to touch you, baby,” he murmurs, coating his fingers in your slick as he runs them along your slit. He’s kissing down your body, slowly, and you feel yourself shiver with anticipation. You sigh, letting your head fall back against the pillow.

“Spread ‘em for me - that’s it - been thinkin’ about this pussy all day -”

Your legs fall open, giving Baron’s fingers full access.

“So fuckin’ wet - just relax, baby -”

He begins circling your clit with his thumb, his other hand planted on your hip to keep you pinned against the mattress. He slips a finger inside, and you moan, involuntarily clenching around him as he adds a second one.

“You like that?” he murmurs. You just whine, bucking against his hand as he pumps his fingers into you.

“‘Course you do - I know just what you like - fuck, look at you,” he says, continuing to work you open with his fingers. 

You moan, writhing as you feel pleasure coarse through you, his fingers so much larger than your own - only for it to stop, suddenly.

He doesn’t even give you a chance to whine in protest, because his mouth is on you, tongue swirling around your clit. You cry out, back arching at the feeling of his mouth, pillow-soft and lapping at you like you’re his last meal.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he murmurs against your cunt, licking a long line up your slit. You moan, his hands holding your hips to the bed as he eats you out. He focuses his tongue back on your clit, swirling circles around it as his hand comes back, slipping two fingers back into you with ease. 

He grins against your skin at the sound of your whines when he adds a third finger, pumping in and out of you at an unrelenting pace.

You find your own hands wandering, running your fingers through his hair and gripping, pulling him closer. You’re not used to it being so short, but it still serves its purpose all the same. He groans as you pull on the chestnut strands. 

“I’m close,” you breathe, feeling your face flush, your heart thudding in your chest. There’s pressure building in your core, ready to snap at any moment. He just hums, the vibration against your cunt pushing you even closer to the edge.

It takes one more circle of his tongue over your clit, and you’re done for - you’re bucking your hips into his face, tugging harshly on his hair as you see stars behind your eyelids. You scream as the pleasure washed over you, the orgasm intense and white-hot. He works you through your high, continuing to lap and lick at you, gradually slowing down as your whole body shakes. It’s almost too much, but you can’t even find the words to ask him to stop. By the time he removes his fingers from you, you’re a mess. You feel boneless, certain you'll sink all the way through the mattress if you aren’t careful.

Your breathing is deep and labored, not even able to form words as Baron presses soft kisses to your inner thigh. He brings himself back up over you, kissing you fiercely. You still faintly taste yourself on him, and smile into his mouth.

“You good?” he asks, smiling smugly.

You nod, still a bit breathless. “Fuck - yeah, so good.”

He kisses you again, his mouth glistening with you as you feel his hard cock press against your stomach.

“Not gonna lie - not sure if I’ll last long,” he whispers. “Just kind of wanted to make sure you felt good first, just in case -”

“It’s fine,” you assure. “Don’t worry - I’ve got you.”

You don’t worry about coming again, not really - he needs you, needs this. You never ask each other questions, but you know something must have happened that’s set him over the edge. So, you just kiss him, and hold him close as he lines up with your entrance.

He groans as he pushes into you, his cock stretching you out. You gasp, digging your fingernails into his back as he fully bottoms out, still not quite used to his size after all this time.

He wastes no time, and you don’t mind - you’re still wet and sensitive from your previous orgasm, and he begins pounding into you at a relentless pace.

You moan under him, bring your hips up to meet his thrusts. THe room is just filled with the sounds of moans and labored breaths, the slapping of skin, and the scent of sex. He’s everywhere, grunting and groaning as he thrusts.

The feeling of him is exquisite, his cock feeling like it was made for you as it drags deliciously along your walls. 

“Takin’ me so well,” he manages, voice strained. “So fuckin’ good - fuckin’ love your pussy -”

You just mewl and whine, burying your face into his neck and sucking on the skin there. It might bruise, but you don’t care - he moans at the feeling, and picks up the pace a bit. He’s already close, you can tell. Pleasure courses through your own body, pulsing through you as he fucks you.

“Oh god -” you moan, heat building in your core. “Baron, baby - fuck, right there - fuck -”

“Needed this - the whole time I was in there - I wanted to get out, just for you - had to see you again -”

You’re not sure what he’s talking about, but you let him ramble - he always gets talkative when he’s about to finish.

“Where -” he breathes, aware of how dangerously close he is to finishing inside you.

“I - ah! Fuck - tummy’s fine - or tits, or wherever -”

He’s pulling out in a flash, his hand coming up to furiously stroke his cock. He only has to jerk himself for a few seconds, then he’s shuddering, hips stilting into his hand as he cums. You feel his hot cum hit your stomach, warm and sticky on your skin. He groans as he finishes, his hot ropes pooling onto your belly and dripping down your sides a bit. He collapses next to you, breathless. 

Your heart is racing, chest heaving as you stare at the ceiling. You both lay in silence for a few moments, before he rolls out of bed and heads out the door of your bedroom. He returns a moment later, a washcloth in his hand.

“This okay? Found it in your cabinet.”

You nod, taking it from him to wipe his cum off of you. He lays back beside you, turning on his side to look at you.

“You okay?” he asks. You meet his eyes, and nod.

“Yeah - I’m fine. That was good,” you say, wiping some of his hair off of his sweaty forehead.

“Think I need to shower for the rest of this,” you sigh, tossing the soiled washcloth aside.

“God - a shower sounds amazing,” he mutters. “I haven’t - haven’t had the luxury of taking a good one in a hot minute.”

You grin, sitting up. “Well… in the interest of saving water -”

“Right behind you,” he says quickly, practically sprinting behind you as you head down the hallway towards the bathroom.

*****

You both took your time in the shower, the hot water a sweet relief for both of you. It takes longer than it should have, since he insists on making you cum on his fingers to make up for not getting you there when he fucked you. And, who were you to deny him that?

It’s only later, when you’re both clean and dried and back in your bed, that you start to actually feel tired. The clock on your bedside reads 3:42 AM. You feel yourself drifting off, Baron by your side beneath the covers.

“You staying the night?” you ask sleepily - never a guarantee with him.

“Mm,” he says. “If that’s alright.”

“Yeah - fine. You staying for a while?”

“Not sure,” he replies honestly.

Neither of you ever make promises to one another - he could disappear tomorrow, and you may not hear from him for months. But he’s here now, warm and solid beside you. You curl into his side, and you feel him relax a bit.

As you drift off, you can almost swear you hear him say I missed you.

In the morning, he’s gone. By the time sunlight is filtering through the curtains, there’s just a cold spot in the bed where he used to be.

You try to push down the disappointment - you’ve done the same to him, after all, more times than either of you can count. Still - sometimes he stays. Sometimes.

The only evidence that he had been here at all is a jar of marmalade left on your kitchen counter - homemade by his mother, according to him. And, your favorite thing to have on toast. When you pick up the jar and look at it, you can’t help but smile.

When the newspaper gets delivered to your door later that day, everything suddenly makes sense. 

It’s just a local paper, never much news of note in it. You mostly read it for the crime blotter, hoping that they don’t have too many details on the nearby stolen cars or goods, knowing if you need to move soon before you’re caught.

But, instead, crime is on the front page - one that you know all too well:

BABYDOLL BANDIT BREAKS FREE FROM PRISON, STILL AT LARGE

You laugh, reading in the article how the armed robbery suspect somehow cleverly evaded a federal task force, and how - of course - the suspect is, in fact, male, and not the woman they thought had been chasing for two years. But you knew that already - you’re perhaps the only person who had known that.

Everything about his behavior the night before suddenly makes sense - his desperation, his exhaustion - and, of course, his disappearing act this morning.

You sip your coffee as you read the paper, rolling your eyes.

He’ll be back, you know that. But for now, you just silently root for him to make it - he’s probably in a new getaway car now, on his way to hide out in a new town, if not a new state.

You take a sip of coffee, and a bite of your marmalade toast. Then, you turn on the television  - if you’re lucky, you’ll get another glance of Baron’s face on the news, until he calls you again.

author's note: Happy Valentine's Day, y'all. I have Marmalade brainrot, so I figured I'd write this little blurb while I work on other fics. Love y'all! (Dedicated to @chateaudjo and @djoworlds)

[indouloureux]

chateau (feel alright)

steve harrington x reader

summary: with your insomnia driving you insane, steve goes through the sleepless night helping you fall asleep in his arms.

word count: 3, 577

warnings: insomnia, fluff, smut mdni 18+

a/n: i was like halfway through my mcu peter fic then my brain stopped and told me to write steve??? anyway this is kinda short so bear with me pls hope you guys enjoy

MASTERLIST

explicit warnings: sleepy sex, slight choking, praise kink creampie, oral f receiving, fingering, multiple orgasms (like two lol)

-

1. shower, 12:34am

“(y/n)?”

Steve’s awakened by the soft pattering of the shower hitting the ceramic floor. His upper body cold with the lack of your warmth, and he immediately thinks that this was one of those nights – the unsleeping mind taking over your poor lethargic body.

He glances to the bedside table and faintly sees your notebook left open with a pencil on the edge. Steve scoots upward and takes the notebook into his large hands, opening the lamp to read your list. In the dim glow, your hand writing presents yourself to him in messy cursive written on the thin lined paper, a list you’d done years ago for nights like these.

It’s not your fault, really, rather it’s the Hawkins’ freakish encounters that keep you up late at night staring at the window, waiting for the inevitable. And a few weeks ago it had been okay – you’d been sleeping right on time, with the help of Steve's tactile touch and sweet loving.

Until right now. For some unknown reason. And he feels the guilt creep up to his chest at the thought that he may have not done enough.

Steve must have woken up too late because he hears the shower turn off. The light seeps through the bottom of the door, and turns off when the lock clicks. Steve places the notebook beside him and rubs the sleep off his eyes, bare chest nipped by the cold air that seeps through the ajar window.

You open the door, clad in a white towel that covers your body, residue water dripping down the carpeted floor. Steve frowns, pushing the covers off his legs to walk over to you, socked feet padding against the floor as he stares at your awfully pretty face that’s sunken by disappointment.

Your back is hunched with the upsetting weight of inertia on your shoulders. Steve places his hands on your shoulders and straightens them, rubbing the wet hair off your forehead. He cups your face, thumbs rubbing your eyebags.

“Hey,” you murmur. “Did I wake you?”

Steve shakes his head, smelling lavender and soap off your body, hands running up and down your shoulders. “No. Just woke up by myself, don’ worry.”

“Yeah,” you tell him, slipping on your underwear, not bothering to wear a bra. “It’s happening again, Steve. I’m sorry.”

Steve doesn’t care being late at night with you, as he’s told you many times before. But he does mind the sadness that creeps up your face when the tiredness can’t let you sleep in those opprobrious nights.

Steve doesn’t care being late at night with you, as he’s told you many times before. But he does mind the sadness that creeps up your face when the tiredness can’t let you sleep in those opprobrious nights.

He instructs you to raise your hands and slips on your shirt, careful not to hit your face and smiles when your head peeks through. “‘s alright, babe. I’ll stay up with you.”

Shaking your head, you secure the shorts around your waist and take the towels off his hands. Steve brushes your hair out of your face, running a hand through your slick tresses and untangle the knots. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he places a hand on the back of your neck and kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger on your damp skin before he pulls away to massage wipe droplets off your eyelids. “I’ll be with you till you fall asleep, doll.”

2. read a book, 12: 39am

Steve’s head rests on your shoulder, hair lit into a soft brown provided by the orange light of the lamp beside you. A blanket covering both of your enervated bodies, there’s a hand that runs through his hair, and a hand on your book.

He turns the pages for you when you kiss his forehead, fighting his slowly blinking eyes and tries to read with you. But he finds the book you’re reading awfully disturbing, and when he reads a part that snaps his eyes wide open, Steve looks at you with a befuddled gaze.

“Baby, that book’s messed up,” he mumbles, wrapping the blanket closer around him. The soft fabric tickles your skin, and whilst pushing the glasses up your nose, you kiss his forehead. “I’m not turning that page. Let’s read something else.”

“No,” you whine, pulling on his arm when he tries to get up. “Mike told me to read this and I promised him I’d finish it so I can tell him what happens.”

He snorts, pushing your glasses back up when it continues to fall down your nose. “You’re reading a book so you can tell him what happens in it?” Steve shakes his head. "That kid's spoiled rotten."

There’s an incredulous look on his face that mingles with amusement, because he can’t believe you’re doing this for Mike, of all people. “Yeah. I mean, it’s interesting. It’s a killing, shapeshifting clown.”

“Who eats children,” he points out. “Why don’t you read something friendly? Like…like The Polar Express.” Steve looks up at you with puppy dog eyes, excitement riddling in his face at the mention of a child's book being read.

Your heart melts and breaks at the same time, because you know his excitement for it comes from the lack of affection he gets from his ignorant parents. And just like him, you intend to give love to his empty heart.

But you'd do it on another day. “I’d rather not.”

You kiss his forehead again, and he finally flips the page. He remains silent for the whole time, because he craves more of your soft lips on his skin, and he quietly relishes in your loving hands toy with his hair.

At some point, he's requested for you to read it aloud and you do. Which is a thing he regrets as he's on the verge of falling asleep as you do so, especially when you start reading faster and the kisses become frequent.

The sleep’s phantom hovers but never really mingles, and Steve tries to help you fall asleep faster by kissing everywhere on your shoulder, like it used to work. But when it doesn’t, his arm comes across your waist and tugging you closer to him, hopefully giving you some of his sleep.

3. solve a puzzle, 1: 40am

The gelid water keeps Steve awake as he frowns at the missing puzzle pieces, fingers tapping on his chin as blurry eyes look for the tiny squared cardboards.

“Do you know what that is?” you tap his shoulder and tilt your head sideway, neck gauche in its position. “Looks like a deformed lamb, babe.”

He looks down under the table, the lack of light blending in the pieces onto the floor. Steve hears the rapid clicking of the rubik’s cube you’re trying to solve while you simultaneously look for the other pieces.

“Baby, why are you looking there? It couldn’t have gotten that far.”

“But maybe it got blown away,” you crouch and rest your upper body on the ground to peek beneath the sofa, and still with the darkness, you don’t see anything.

Steve drinks his water and looks at the puzzle. “It actually does look like a deformed lamb. Look, he’s missing his eyes. I-I don’t think this ones supposed to go there.”

“I don’t think this is tiring me out at all.” You stand up, back aching the slightest. Steve makes his way to you, a hand to your back to rub the ache off, offering you his water. “We can do number four now.”

You take a sip, Steve holding the glass for you as your boyfriend’s eyes brighten, and suddenly the sleep is fully off his body and now he’s tugging his shirt off. “Great. I’m gonna fuck your brains out.”

4. have sex, 1: 48am

Steve’s got his mouth hot on yours, kissing you wild like he's been starved as his mouth widens and pushes his tongue inside, touching yours before he closes his lips and sinks deeper.

Your hand comes up to tug on his hair, pulling on the back of his neck as his barely covered cock grinds on your clothed cunt, damp underwears colliding, friction eliciting a low moan on your warm mouths.

"Steve," you whimper, leg coming up to press your clit on his dick. "Touch me."

He inhales your scent, breaking away and kisses his way to your already sweating neck. "Where are your manners, doll?"

Panting, you grab on his shoulders when he starts biting on the juncture of your neck, suckling until he's certain a mark would leave. "Please, Steve. Please please please."

"You'll be a good girl?" the indentation of his smile on your neck tickles you, leaving feather light kisses on the spot you're the most sensitive to. "'d you promise to be a good girl when I fuck you?"

"Yeah," you nod, pulling his face back to yours and kiss his lips. Soft, effervescent. "I'll be a good girl for you."

And so he moves down, kissing his way down your clothed top until he bites on the garter of your sleep shorts, fingers hooking underneath to pull it down with your damp panties coming with.

"God, baby, your pussy's so pretty," he looks up at you, senses the heat rushing to your face and possibly everywhere. "Pussy's so pretty you should feel how hard my cock is."

Steve throws it aside, cock hardening at the sight of your cunt glistening from the minimal light the streetlights give. You're already panting despite the lack of touch he's giving you. With his eyes looking up at you with pupils in a dusk of lustful haze, his tongue sticks out and presses the flat of his thick muscle on your folds.

He moans at your sweetness, pulling back to slip the tip of his tongue between your puffy folds and dragged up in a slow pace that has you mewling with your back arched up against nothing. Steve doesn't stop until he's reached your clit, lazily wrapping his lips around the bud and suckling its arousal.

"You taste so good, baby," a loud, obscene sound created between his lips and your wetness. "So fucking sweet even early in the morning, hm?"

When you move too much at his teasing suckles, his hands slither beneath your thighs until they press flat on your stomach, legs spread as far as they could and thighs locked in place. Steve's access is wide and with his attainability does he take advantage of your cunt open and pretty for him, tongue dragging between your folds and clit but never really going to where you want him.

Hands stopping from clutching the ivory sheets, they go down to tug on Steve's hair, moaning lewdly. "Baby," you whimper. "Stop teasing."

"But I'm supposed to tire you out," he breaks away, lips covered in slick and spreads them around your inner thighs that he generously bites before he's greedily come back to eat your pussy like it's his last meal (like it's not about to be two am). "You gotta be patient, babydoll."

But despite his declaration, a hand leaves your stomach. With your eyes closed, you feel a finger tracing your hold, prodding at it but never sinking in. "Steve!"

Finally, he sinks two inside, slowly as your walls evade his limbs the way you would to his cock. You moan louder than you should, and cover it up by biting your forearm as Steve pushes his fingers in until they're at his knuckles. He rubs your spongy spot, one that has you mewling tumultuously, providing him better music.

"That's it baby, good girl," he curls his fingers, the same way his tone curls into an applaud. It's tantalizingly slow, the pads of his fingers pressing against your walls before they've come to graze your sweet spot over and over again.

With his pink lips wrapped loosely still on your clit, his pace quickens and shoves a third one in, the stretch painfully gratifying until you hear the all too familiar squelching sound of your slick cunt against his versatile fingers. Steve fucks them in with a vigor that you think is impossible for him to have in a very early morning, libido probably driven by the smell of your arousal and your appraising moans.

"That's it, baby," you purr, tugging on his hair and pushing him harder against your cunt. "Fuck! Don't stop,"

And when you feel that coil tightening on your navel, you tell him so that you're close. Steve sucks the living shit out of your clit, fingers using all it's mobility as thrusts them vigorously in a way that you love it, pinky finger slapping on your pussy at every hard thrust.

Steve feels the warm cum evade his three fingers, coating them like paint and doesn't stop until he's milked all of you. He slows his fingers down, lets you ride your high until you push his head away and pull him back up to you.

With a face half covered by your slick and tendrils of cum coating the shadow of his midnight chin, he wipes it off and licks a finger clean, groaning at your delectable nectar. "Like honey on a spring, baby."

He doesn't kiss you first, instead shoves his two cum-coated fingers inside your mouth and presses it flat on your tongue, going deep until you gag around them. You clean your cum off his fingers, swallowing. Steve smiles and pulls them away, replaces it with his tongue that still tastes of you.

Lips still on yours, you tug on his briefs and pull his cock out — all swell and hard for you. You pump him, from base to tip, squeezing until there's a bead of cum seeping through his slit.

"Oh, baby," his head falls into the crook of your neck when you gradually jack him off, jaw slacking at your light squeezes and thumb grazing his head. "Oh, fuck yeah, keep going,"

You do, the other hand coming down to fondle with his balls, squeezing like what you'd do to his shaft, Steve's hips moving and fucking your hand. You tut. "Baby, how 'bout I give you something better? Something tighter?"

Barely a minute of jacking him off and his cock's already twitching. "Baby, you're gonna be the death of me, I swear."

You remove your hands from him, licking his slick off your palm and moaning at his bittersweet taste. Steve props himself up with one forearm, a hand coming down to guide his helmet on your entrance and wastes no time pushing in.

Concomitantly, you both moan at the feeling each other — his cock stretching you out in the best way possible, and your tight walls clenching on his hard cock. You arch your back, clothes tits pressing against his chest but your nipples sensitive and hard from the simple friction.

"N-ah! So, so tight," he kisses your throat, a hand coming up to wrap around it with his thumb and index squeezing the sides. Steve's hips begin moving, pushing out fully with his tip still inside until he sinks back in in a rough force that emits a wet slap from the impact of your sticky thighs. "So good for me, baby. Taking me so well like a good girl,"

Your hands come up to scratch on his back, feeling his muscles flex at every trust he makes. Your legs come up to wrap around his torso, the heels of your feet digging on his fast to urge him to go deeper into your pussy.

"Faster, Steve," you mewl. "Shit—...go harder."

He does, obeying you by fucking your puffy cunt faster, balls slamming on your ass and cock stretching you wide open when he removes he takes his hands and brings them to the back of your thighs, spreading them open to drive his dick deeper into your pussy.

Your moans become high-pitched and short like petulant whines, nipping and kissing Steve's neck as his fucking has gotten to a point where the headboard slams on the wall.

"I'm close," Steve pants, eyes closed tightly and jaw slacked open with a sheen coat of sweat dripping down his forehead and his baby hair. "Fuck, baby I'm gonna cum."

"Then cum," you clench around him, as tight as you could as you bring him closer to his orgasm. "I'm coming with you."

And when his hips stutter and a loud moan leaves his slackened mouth, face scrunched into what is a calamitous orgasm, you whimper and moan as you cum around his cock, his alabaster ropes filling you up to the brim and mixing your cum with his.

Steve drops down on top of you, hands massaging your sides as his ass raise and pulls his softening cock out of your full cunt. He knows he's gotten hard at the sight of his cum leaking off your gaping, clenching hole.

"Fuck, baby," he runs a hand through his hair. "That's so hot."

"Um, Steve?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want another go?"

How could he say no when his cock suddenly springs up when you finally exposed your tits to him?

5. watch a movie, 2:55 am

"So you're telling me his mom is trying to bang his son?"

Marty McFly's bright red vest blinds you and Steve's straining eyes. Your boyfriend shakes his head, hand absentmindedly rubbing your inner thigh to massage the ache away. "No. Well, she didn't know."

"She didn't know he was from the future?"

"Yeah."

"Oh," you nod your head. "And you watched this with Robin?"

"When we were high,"

"When you were high?" you sit up, hands on your lap and looking at Steve with wide eyes. His hand stops moving and looks at you perplexingly. "I thought you stopped getting high, Steve?"

"I mean, by accident—!"

"I swear if I find out you're still taking marijuana, I will waterboard you, Harrington."

"Boobies or water, I don't care being waterboarded."

"It's called motor boating for the tits, dumbass," you smack his arm. "You know what? This isn't working."

You reach for the remote and turn the TV off. Steve's smile falls and lets himself sink in disappointment with you, because even sex didn't tire you out. Your eyes adorn a twilight of hopeless glimmer, and all he can do is wrap his arms around your tired body.

Steve sighs. "I'm sorry, doll. Wish I could help you better."

You shake your head. "You did well, babe."

Then an idea comes into his head.

Steve sits forward and reaches for your notebook, hastily taking the pen off the table and scribbles his thought loudly like he's in an exam.

6. eat those sleeping gummies dance with steve!

His capitalized, brazen handwriting next to your looped and poised calligraphy, you read his addition. Your eyebrows furrow, looking up at your boyfriend who's stood up and offered his hand at you.

"Yeah?" his hand tilts. "Gonna dance with me or what?"

You set the notebook down. "Sure this would work?"

"If it's my idea, it totally will."

You stand up and smack his chest. "Cocky bitch."

With bodies entwined and hearts tethered into the dark morning of your shared home, Steve wraps his arms around your waist, yours coming up beneath his armpits and grabbing his shoulders as he gentles you into his soft humming.

And you rest your ear on his heartbeat, his harmonious humming synchs your heartbeat with his, his warmth and faint elation melting with yours.

"So I turn back in time," Steve sings into your hair, bodies dancing into a rhapsodic song. "I'm at the chateau and I feel alright,"

"Cool song." you say. "You made it?"

"For you," he pulls his head away and looks down at you. Steve leans in and presses a gentle kiss of exhaustion against your lips. "Yeah. I made it."

-

Maybe his idea did work. Because now you're by the sliding door to his backyard, gazing into the naked night sky with the moon high and bright, providing the gentle haze of slumber of those who remain in a dreamless sleep in this nightmarish town.

Your back on Steve's chest, legs on either side of you and yours flat on the carpet as you lay upwards on the couch, his strong arms wrapped around yours with hands entwined in a protective action. The ghost of his lips lingering on your forehead, and you slip in easily into slumber in the arms of your lover.

reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated <3

[cerise-angel]

Smarty

+18 Keys x Reader

word count: 2,955

Keys is a pretty handsome guy. The kind of guy that makes anyone feel at ease just by staring at his hazel, puppy-like eyes. He has a pretty slope nose, cute freckles and small moles on his face and body, soft shiny hair and a perfect smile. Keys knows that he's pretty. He likes to act as if he's completely oblivious to his own charms, adding to the whole shy aloof tech guy persona. He knows the look girls and boys give to him, wanting to eat him up. He likes the attention, even though it still makes him flush at the neck and ears sometimes. He likes the way the girls giggle and offer him help when he has trouble with the printer at his job. He knows the flirty eyes and lingering touches girls give to him when he explains something to them, and how wildly they react and he swallows nervously. He knows the sultry tone of voice they use whenever he's alone with them in an elevator. He likes when they touch his cheeks, talking about how cute he looks with his glasses. Keys knows all of it.

He thinks is funny how you seem to act so untouched by his charming aura. He knows you're not imune to him, he noticed the slightly dazed look on your face whenever he talks to you. How you get fidgety, like a scared kitten, when he sits too close to you in meetings. And his favorite, how you cant keep eye contact, looking away and flushing every time. Keys thinks is cute, the way you avoid him, while also acting as if he's not affecting you at all. But then again, he knows he is.

It's friday, and as usual, the small office is nearly empty. Mouser has already left, with a promise of finishing his coding at home. Millie's desk is on your other side, leaving you between her and Keys. It's a little annoying sometimes, because they chat as if you weren't there, or worse, as if you were some kind of wall that they need to dodge to talk to each other. Other than that is nice. Millie is nice with you, and you consider yourselves to be friends. Keys is nicer, but the way you look at him makes clear you don't consider him your friend. He's in undefined territory, since you want him but don't want him to know it. He obviously has better things, or people, to do.

Millie looks at you smiling and waving, before plugging her notebook off, and leaves the place in quiet steps. She doesn't say anything to Keys, as she usually would, but then you realize its because he's focused on something, big headset on, eyes and nose scrunching in concern. You dont know for how long you stare at his face before he catches you, a mischievous glint to the smile he gives to you.

"What you doing?"

You shake your head before answering, feeling your armpits getting warmer with embarrassment. "Just, hm, Millie just left." Keys nods, taking the headset off, before turning his chair to you. He's still smiling, but is almost boyish now. He gets up walking to your desk, stopping just before his waist can touch your shoulders.

"No, what are you still doing here? Having any trouble?" You look at the slight messed up script on your computer screen. Sheepishly you nod, letting him invade the space between you and your desk. He works in silence, typing fast, the blue light of the screen reflecting in his glasses. You can seem to look away from him, inspecting his face and hair and hands and the lean muscles of his forearms, almost concealed by the rolled up sleeves of his grey shirt. It's almost too much, and you feel embarrassed by ogling him, staring quickly at the pen holder on your desk. If Keys notices it he doesn't show you. He does notices it, though. It takes him a lot of inner strength to not let a satisfied smile appear on his face. Instead, he keeps focused on the screen, catching glimpses of your face reflected in the mirror.

Suddenly Keys stops typing, and runs a hand to his hair. You look at the screen in awe. He smiles at you. "Done." You look up to him ready to thank him for helping you, but with the way he looks at you and the way he looks so handsome just standing in the dim lighting has the words caught up in your throat. You swallow, trying to find focus to speak, but he beats you.

"You're still having trouble aren't you?" You frown, not really understanding what he means. You want to ask him, opening your mouth to do so, but his hands cradle your face, he finds his way to stay between your thighs, and pulls your face gently up, to stare at his blown pupils eyes. You don't know to what exactly you're answering, but you nod your head yes, letting your lips part slowly, your breathing starting to get a little ragged. His hands are soft against your cheeks, a little bit of roughness on the tips of the fingers. Keys smile.

"Do you still need my help?" And now you get it, nodding a little too eagerly, tingling anxiety on your armpits, hands and neck. Keys chuckle at you, shaking his head a little. You feel like you're doing too much and intend to pull away, only for him to bend over and attach his lips to yours. His lips are a little chapped, tasting like coffee and melon bubble gum. He kisses you softly, letting you frustrated when he pulls away. His mouth moves to kiss your eye, your cheeks, the edge of your jaw, and your mouth again. He devours you then. The kiss is passionate, his hand running through your scalp to hold you more firmly, nested on the nape of your neck. You kiss him back urgently, letting him lick inside your mouth, sighing with want. Your hands twitch going to hold him by his shirt. Keys pull away, lingering kisses on your forehead.

"What do you want my help with?" He kisses your temple.

"With the mess between your thighs?" He kisses your nose while smiling.

"With the way you keep looking at me, like im not gonna notice those pretty eyes?" He kisses your jaw, nipping the soft skin. You gasp.

"With the way you ignore me? Hurting me?" You clutch his shirt harder, pulling him to kiss you again. He does, happy with your reaction. He kisses your mouth again, slow and lustful, earning whines from how much you want him. His hands go to your waist, for you to get up off your chair. You pull him harder, too anxious to trust your hands exploring on their own. Keys walks back until he sits down on his chair and pulls you to his lap with ease. You sit, arms tangling on his neck, before kissing him again. He dodges, and your kiss lands on his cheekbone.

"Wanna go to my place or to yours?" You think a little, too dazed by him.

"My house is 5 minutes away." He nods. "Mine is two blocks away."

You smile sheepishly, nesting yourself against his warm embrace. "Yours then." He nods too, looking at you in what seems adoration. "Atta girl."

The walk to his building is unnerving. Keys has his arm thrown lazily on your shoulders, as if this was a usual thing. Your body seems to think the same, and you hug him by the waist before you can think about it. He kisses the tip of your nose for that, a subtle new hint of adoration in his eyes. It's nice being so close to someone that you can smell their perfume, their sunscreen, the gum they're chewing, their sweat. Keys is warm, and you indulge yourself in being in his arms on a chilly evening. You could do this every day. You want to do this every day.

The building doesn't have a doorman, and Keys opens the door to you, making a silly face. He tells you his apartment is on the 8th floor, and so, you two walk to the elevator. His body is still glued to yours, hands holding hands, thighs touching thighs. The moment the elevator door closes, his lips are on yours again. It's soft, not nearly as desperate as before, but just as ardent. You pull him by his waist, locking one of legs between yours. He whines in your mouth when you touch a silver of exposed skin between his pants and t shirt. You want to hear him again. Keys slows you down, kissing you languidly and locking your hands with his. You are about to whine about it, but the elevator opens up. When he pulls back and looks at you, his eyes are a pool of molasses, warm and full of affection and yearning. He smiles while you pout at him. "Easy, tiger."

You giggle and he pulls you along the yellow lightning hallway. You feel giddy and excited, the way you felt when you had your first kiss. He looks so handsome in the dim lightning, the yellow hues only enhancing his tanned skin and caramel locks. You wanna eat him up. When he notices your not so subtle staring he laughs, giving you a quick peck on the cheeks before unlocking the door. Keys' place is quite neat, some mess of books and coffee mugs on the small table. You cant look around much, his lips are on your neck, his hands roaming between your ribcage and waist. When he touches your tits, a barely there, whisper of a touch, you gasp. He seems to like your reaction, grunting against your hair. Walking together you both reach his bedroom, where he turns you on his arms. Keys kisses you, urgently, teeth nipping lip, and suddenly you two are on the bed. You pull away, feeling too anxious now that this is actually happening.

"Keys." He's kissing your neck now, his hands under your shirt, his pelvis in synch with yours. You try again. "Keys, I wan-ah-na talk." He stops immediately, looking up to your face with blown pupils and shiny lips. You cant resist the urge to touch him, cupping his cheeks.

"I like you." He gives you a smirk, one of his hands coming up to stroke your cheek. "I can see that." He gestures to the way your legs are wrapped on his waist, locking him against you. You smile softly.

"No, like, I really like you. I don't want this to be a one time thing. I couldn't bear it." He sighs, and looks a little confused. He catches your hands, and kisses your knuckles. He cups your face then. "Honey, i've been trying to get to you for a long time. I want you for a long time. I wouldn't keep chasing you, if this was a one time thing."

You snort, happy he seems to feel the same as you. "You didnt chase me." He laughs ironically, ducking in to kiss your neck. "I did, you just never noticed."

Before you could keep arguing with him, and probably ruin the mood, his mouth was on yours again, a new intention behind the kiss. You grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him even closer to you. You pull away to kiss his neck, and place his hands on tour tits. He gasps and squeezes them softly, whining when you roll your hips against his. "You're too warm. Lets take this off."

You nod eagerly helping him to pull your shirt off. His comes next, and then your jeans and his jeans. Keys kisses you again, and you remove your bra. He pulls back, sitting on his ankles to watch you almost bare before him. He licks his lips, hands going straight to your tits. He squeezes them, focused on your reactions. He kisses one nipple and then the other before fully attaching his mouth to one of them. His thumb flicks the other, and you start to get impossibly wet. Still attached to your breast, his other hand descent to tease your cunt, pressing your cotton covered clit. You moan, and Keys looks up, smiling with his mouth engulfing your breast. You're getting impatient tugging him, squirming legs while he keeps teasing you. He gives you enough to stay in the halfway between your release, but never enough. Keys adores the way you whine and begs for more.

Finally he pulls your panties down, and licks your cunt. You almost cum just from that, back arching, hands tugging his soft hair. You can feel him smile against you and that only makes you wetter. He looks at you, glasses still on.

"Take them off for me please?" You nod, shaking hands taking his glasses and placing delicately at the bedside table. He licks you again, completely focused on your cunt, licking, kissing, devouring it. Keys presses his fingers at your entrance, and you push yourself against them in a desperate attempt.

"So needy, baby." The condescending tone in his voice and the way he pushes one finger inside, then the other, has you crying, clutching tightly to his sheets. He moves them slowly, testing you. "Can you take more?"

You answer yes panting, and he kisses the skin below your belly button as a reward. He adds a third finger and slowly sets a pace, his mouth glued to your clit. He alternates between licking and kissing your cunt and biting playfully at your thighs. You want him to eat you up, and he does, allowing your pleasure to flood through your senses, leaving you with ragged breaths and shaking limbs. Keys seems satisfied when he lays his head on your stomach, his hands caressing the sides of your ribs. He smiles lazily, pure bliss in his eyes, and you smile back, reaching to pet his hair.

"Didn't know you were this skilled in girls department, Mr. Keys." He laughs, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He climbs on top of you, his cock poking close to your cunt. You feel hot all over, and in a bold move, you grab his butt. Keys gasps and feigns a shocked expression before kissing your lips.

"Wanna be inside you." He says softly, before hiding his face between your neck and shoulder. You think is adorable, how he was just between your legs making you moan desperately, and now he seems shy about wanting to have you. You pull his face gently, kissing the tip of his nose. "Then be inside me."

He wastes no time, pushing his boxers down and hurriedly lining himself with you. You feel the air leave your lungs when he sinks in you, it's a nice burning stretch. "Jesus-f-fuck Keys!"

He whimpers and his hands grip you harder. "Sorry, sorry baby. So so sgood, feels so good." Keys starts slowly, allowing your body to get used and to feel all of him. Even though it's still burning, you need more, so you snap your hips against his. He groans, fucking you harder, meeting your hips in synch. Keys brings your legs up his shoulders, allowing him to feel you deeper, to fuck you deeper. His eyes never leave yours, and the way his face scrunch up, every time he fills you entirely, is enough to leave you a whimpering mess. He's close to his release and the soft babbling of how good you feel, how perfect is your pussy, how you look so pretty underneath him has you on the brink of your orgasm too.

Keys bends a little to reach your mouth with his own, and you lose all control, engulfing his body in a warm embrace of arms and legs and kisses. He keeps kissing you, swallowing your cries and slowing down. "Where do you want me, baby?" Everywhere. You want him under your skin, between your ribs, close to your heart. "In me, please." He grunts, rolling his hips slowly, making you mewl. "So polite, so good to me, so, so pretty, such a pretty little face, such a pretty little cunt."

You gasp, and Keys keeps fucking you slowly, steadily, focused on how you feel wrapped around him. You hold him tightly, still on your post climax haze, and he spills inside you. He collapses on top of your body, hands finding rest on your sides. His right hand fetches yours, and the lazy smile on his face when you squeeze his fingers between yours is enough to end all wars. Keys kisses your sternum, your throat, your chin and finally your lips. Is soft and languid, your legs finally resting on the mattress instead of locking his body closer to yours. He smiles between kissing, his hand now caressing your cheeks. "I quite like you, you know." You smile, so happy it almost hurt your cheeks. "I quite like you too." Keys rolls to the side, pulling you to lay beside him. A small blanket is throw over you but you're too focused on Keys' warmth and soft pine smell to notice. He kisses your mouth, nipping softly on the flesh before hugging you closely and dozing off to sleep.

[veryberryjelly]

brownies

pairing : steve harrington x reader

🎃 - caught in the rain

👻 - "come on under the covers with me"

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞

you felt stupid to trust the weather man.

he had said the skies would be clear until tomorrow morning so you took it upon yourself to walk to steve's instead of driving to enjoy a nice fall walk amongst the leaves and slight chill in the air.

but of course the weather man had failed to mention that he was absolutely wrong, which was why you were practically running down the street towards steve's house as rain bucketed down onto of your head.

thankfully you hadn't brought anything with you other than a tupperware full of cookies which were safe underneath your jacket and t-shirt.

you almost slipped and fallen twice on the hill up towards steve's house but thankfully you had been able to stabilise yourself before you fell on your ass.

when you spotted his house through the rain you unintentionally sped up, wanting to bask in the warmth of his house as soon as possible and changing out of the dripping fabric that was making you shiver.

when you finally arrived under the porch of his house you let yourself relax a little, at least you didnt have the constant feeling of rain pattering on your head.

steve was quick to open the door once you knocked and the wave of warmth from inside his house gave you goosebumps.

" what the hell, did you walk here? " was the first words out of steve's mouth as he ushered you inside, shutting the door behind you to keep the warmth in.

" yeah, the weather guy said it was going to be dry until tomorrow, so i thought i'd go for a walk, but the skies decided to open when i was too far to turn back " you explained, pulling the box of brownies out from underneath your jacket.

" i made you brownies " you explained, a smile spreading onto your wet cheeks as you offered the box out to him.

he was a little bit floored.

while you were standing on his welcome mat absolutely soaked through, you had the brightest smile on your face and were offering him brownies.

" thank you.. wait here a minute and i'll grab you a towel and some dry clothes "

you nodded before he backed out of the room, setting the brownies on his kitchen counter.

it was only a few moments before steve returned with a towel in one hand and some of his clothes draped over the other.

" okay, here " he said, offering the towel out to you for out to dry yourself.

you instantly took the fabric, rubbing it over your hair in an attempt to stop it dripping down your back.

" and you can jump in the shower so you don't get pneumonia. "

a soft laugh fell from both of your lips as you continued drying yourself.

" okay, i'm gonna go do that and then we can actually spend some time together, because i havent seen you in two weeks. " you replied, leaning up to press a kiss onto his lips before you took the dry clothes from him and headed up to the bathroom to stop the chattering of your teeth.

-----

you were only in there for about five minutes before you emerged in a pair of steves boxers and one of your favourite t-shirts of his.

instead of heading back downstairs, you went to his bedroom in hopes of finding the hairbrush you left there for when you stayed over.

but you found more than just a hairbrush.

you found steve laying onto of his bed with two steaming mugs on his bedside table along with the tupperware of brownies you had brought over.

a smile settled on his face when he spotted you a lot more comfortable and warm in his clothes.

it was moments before he lifted the blankets and spoke " come on under the covers with me, it'll warm you up "

who were you to tell him no ?

brushing your hair could wait until it was dry.

[joekeeryswife]

hello lovely could u please maybe do an insta au with joe? 💕💕

Instagram AU - j.k

a/n: hey loves! here is my first joe instagram au. short but sweet, enjoy 🫶🏼

ynyln: on set 🎬

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ynfan6102: WHEN IS STRANGER THINGS 5 COMING OUT

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ynfan0192: our queen has posted! 🤭

ynyln: that’s a wrap!

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djo: 🤭

josephquinn: people better not comment on me being in the girls bathroom 🙄

↳ ynfan546: @josephquinn why are you in the girls bathroom?

↳ ynyln: @ynfan546 IM CRYING

mayahawke: i can’t leave my bed, im so hungover 😵

↳ ynyln: i’m coming over honey✨

ynfan: no one gonna talk about the picture of her and Joe?

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ynfan253: Y/N AND JOE YES PLEASE

hellostranger665: JOE AND Y/N PLEASE DATE ALREADY

ynfan02: y/n looking as beautiful as ever 🥹

ynyln: soft launch i guess ☺️ @djo

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djo: my girl 😚

ynfan635: YES YES YES YES YES

djoandyn: OH MY GOD IM SO HAPPY

ynfan109: our girl is finally happy 🥹

josephquinn: finally 🙄

mayahawke: the post everyone has been waiting for 🙏🏼

djofan203: HELP WHY AM I CRYING🥹

ynfan012: joe you better not hurt our bby!

↳ djo: never 👎🏼

[aristrocrat]

Upside Down Feelings

an episode-by-episode stranger things fic that incorporates the reader into the series

pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (slow burn) and a casual fling with eddie munson

summary: Y/N Henderson is your typical high school girl with typical problems; falling out with her best friend, an annoying little brother, and a chronically unpopular standing in school. Little did she know that after the disappearance of Will Byres, her world would be flipped upside down.

Season One:

Chapter 1: The Disappearance of Will Byers ->

Chapter 2: The Weirdo on Maple Street ->

Chapter 3: Holly Jolly ->

Chapter 4: The Body ->

Chapter 5: The Flea and the Acrobat ->

Chapter 6: The Monster ->

Chapter 7: The Bathtub ->

Chapter 8: The Upside Down ->

Season Two ->

[rustedhearts]

hurt (boxer!steve x librarian!fem reader)

summary: steve’s looking to blow off some steam after his first title fight loss, and you tend to him the best you know how.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the king of ring ♡

tags: make way for steve's ego!, smut, like...accidental size kink idk how that happened honestly, steve's not an official dom b/c we don't do that anymore around here but he's a dom, little bit of blood, more biting!!, bruising.

dallas, texas april 1991

"Goddamn it!"

The door to Steve's dressing room flung open, hurling toward the wall with a resounding bang. You flinched, slowly standing to your feet from your place on the leather couch. You were carted back stage by an assistant a few minutes ago, just as the arena, and all of America, saw the referee raise Steve's opponent's fist in victory—for the first time in his career.

Steve stomped into the room, beat red and dripping sweat. He was practically steaming. Your palms slicked as Big and Mikey trailed in behind him, prepared to do damage control.

"Harrington...it happens—"

"—to amateurs. To losers. Not to me," Steve snapped, voice booming and sharper than a sword. You jumped again when his gloves went flying into the wall.

He flattened his damp hair against his skull, fingers jumping and arms buzzing. You could see it brewing on his face—he was going to explode. His jaw clenched, his eyes darted around the room, he began to pace. Tick, tick, tick. It was only a matter of time before he'd burst.

"It's one loss, Steve," you piped up, stepping toward him to comfort. "It's really not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of—"

"Undefeated, Libby. Y' know what undefeated fuckin' means?"

You felt the strain of muscles in your face, how gravity pulled them downward. Big, hands on his hips and head cocked disapprovingly, glanced at you. It was getting easier to spot the cracks between the pair of you these days.

"Steve," you sighed, gathering his gloves from the floor to place them in his bag. "I'm just saying—"

"—I'm not supposed to fucking lose! And maybe I wouldn't 've, if you did your fuckin' research."

You craned to look over your shoulder, finding Steve's gaze on his coach. Steve had taken a step closer, now toe to toe with a man much larger than him. Big—graced with a name that, in all reality, didn't do the sheer size of him justice—fixed Steve with a steady, unimpressed stare. But the thing about Steve when he was angry? Truly angry, seething, seeing black.

He'd fight anyone just to feel release.

"Come on, man," Big huffed, head shaking.

You zipped up Steve's duffel, sinking down on the couch again to rub your temples. This was going to be a long night.

"He was a switch hitter. Woulda been a good thing to know...don't you think? Huh?" Steve sneered, looking up his nose at his coach.

Big held his hands up in surrender. "These things happen, Harrington—"

"Not. To. Me."

The room fell to a ringing silence. Mikey lingered near the door, anxiously petting his mustache. The paparazzi were waiting, huddled at the end of the tunnel for a snap of Steve, 'The King of the Ring' Harrington's first loss. He had a post-fight conference in forty minutes. The endorsement representatives would be coming by to offer their pitiful condolences that you knew would only enrage him.

"They don't fuckin' happen to me," Steve growled, pounding at his glistening, heaving chest with a gauze-wrapped fist.

Big just shrugged, watching Steve turn to stomp your way. You stood, reaching for his arms. All you wanted was to comfort him, soothe him, bring him back to that grumpy but agreeable Steve you all knew. You'd never seen him like this—because he'd never been like this. He'd never lost.

Big inched forward on one foot, but when Steve was merely stiff and silent in your gentle, stroking touch, the coach backed away toward the door. He was always a little cautious after the incident in New York last year. He didn't like the way Steve grabbed you, and he didn't like the way he kept doing it ever since.

Mikey opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish, searching for something to say but too afraid to muster it into words. Steve looked murderous. His huffing and puffing was so loud you worried he'd start to hyperventilate.

"Try to cool it before the cameras start, would you?" Big opened the door, turning to direct a pointed look Steve's way.

Steve, facing you but glaring over your head at the wall, turned sharply toward his coach. "Fuck you."

The door muffled Big's sigh, and you parroted the sound as Mikey disappeared behind him and Steve immediately ripped away from you. Your hands fell to your sides limply, chest squeezing tight.

"Steve—"

"—m' showering."

You took a small step after him toward the showers. "But—"

He stomped off, sneakers slapping on the damp tile. He disappeared around the corner, and you deflated in the center of the dressing room with a frown. When the stream of water hissed, you sank back down on the couch and waited, eyes aching and head pounding, a sour taste like acid in your mouth.

♡ ♡

Steve skipped the press conference. The press would call him a sore loser, his opponent would look like a gracious, genuine fighter, and his endorsements would call Mikey berating and scolding him for his client's actions.

But Steve didn't care. He couldn't face a crowd of reporters and paparazzi as a loser. A failure. He'd face them as a winner, or nothing at all.

They called him The King. His crown was starting to fall. You just wished he could step down from the throne every once in a while.

On the ride home, you reached for his hand and flinched when he flicked yours back into your lap. You searched for his eyes but met only the side of his face. Those hard cheekbones, purpled and blued; that swollen brow bone, torn at the corner and weeping red. His lip was fat and he kept running his tongue over the slit in the righthand corner. You knew he was reveling in the sting, bathing in the pain. He needed it when his fists started shaking like this.

Yet despite the visceral fury physically steaming off him, he was eerily...calm. Calm for Steve, calm for a man with a head as a hot as hell itself.

When Steve was silent like this, you knew a nightmare was brewing.

The car pulled in front of the hotel doors, and Steve yanked your door open with such monstrous force that you worried it would come right off the hinges. Some men had a Midas touch. Steve's was Herculean.

He was silent in the elevator, huffing only short, sharp breaths through his nose. He was silent through the hall, stomping with long, bounding strides. He was silent when he slammed the hotel door after you and tossed his duffel on the velvet chaise lounge near the bar. He was silent as he eased back against the black marble and crossed his arms.

You slowly slipped off your heels, hooking your fingers in the straps to bring them toward your luggage in the other room. You eyed him carefully as you passed him, breezing by in a whiff of sweet, citrusy perfume. The diamonds in your ears flashed his eye with a streak of white, catching the lamplight on the end table.

You were nearly to your destination when his gruff voice cut through the tender quiet.

"C'mere."

You paused, surprised just by the sound of his voice. You turned halfway, digesting his demand. Stern, rigid, empty. It mirrored his expression: emotionless. Your heels dangled near your thigh, fingers curling tighter around the straps.

Steve lifted his chin, eyes rolling away from the floor to fix steady on you. They held that heavy-hooded look you were always wary of. He had his fists tucked under his biceps, enlarging the bulging muscles, protruding the overworked veins. The thin black cotton stretched across his body strained.

Your cheeks flamed and your insides wriggled about the same way they do when he whispers in your ear. You stepped your legs a little closer to each other, tightening between your thighs.

"Steve, I—"

"—come. here."

You held his gaze, face half shadowed by the dark side of the room, brightened by the gentle lamplight on the other. His chest rose and fell steadily, and yours struggled with every inhale. He didn't twitch an inch, didn't move a muscle. The solidity to his steadiness always unnerved you. Right now, it made you want to take a bite of his bicep, where the skin was warm and firm and you knew it would taste like salty sweat.

Right now, the way he was staring at you like you had no other choice but to come to him—like he knew you would listen to him because he had such a deep, clawing, biblically powerful hold over you—made you want to devour him.

You dropped your heels on the carpet, where they landed with a muffled thud. You took small, breezy steps toward him. You felt like you were gliding. You felt so much smaller than you were, so minuscule and tiny under his pinning stare. You felt like he could cup you into his hands and crush you, and something about that thought made you tingle.

You came to a stop when your toes brushed his boots, sweaty sneakers discarded in his gym bag. Palms sticky at your sides, fingers grasping for the hem of your black dress, you tipped your head back to meet his gaze when he slipped one hand from under his arm and tucked it under your chin. Propped between his index and thumb, you let him tug you closer—urge you with just the gentlest of pressure. Your stomach pressed against his belt, and the way his head tipped to gaze down at you made your breath hitch.

Still resting against the marble, Steve seemed cool and eased as he bent to meet your mouth. You trembled on the tops of your toes, too impatient to wait for him to meet you, too desperate to find his lips and taste them. He'd never tell you, but he found it sweet, how mindlessly eager you got for even the smallest of his affections.

Your eyes sank closed when your mouths touched. Gently at first, but with an inch from Steve, his mouth molded against yours with a firmness most like his usual affections. A firmness unyielding, leaving no room for breath and no space for escape. But you were happily pliant to his hand spreading to hold your jaw in his wide palm, nearly sighing in relief when he finally switched from impassively cool to the Steve you knew:

Forceful. Mean. Rough.

His tongue swept your bottom lip like the tickle of a feather, though your giggle became a strangled whimper when his spare hand came to gather the hair at the nape of your neck. Free from confines and soft from hotel shampoo, it was a welcome feeling in his palm, and like he couldn't stop himself from reaching for more of it, he yanked. Fist curled tight against your scalp at the back of your head near your neck, he tugged just once—hard.

You popped away from his mouth with a wet smack and a scratchy whine, catching flashes of striped wallpaper before his mouth attached to your neck and sent you flying into blurriness. You held onto him for dear life, hands leaving splotchy white marks on his biceps. And just as you suspected: they were hot and soft, stiff and massive.

He latched onto the column of your throat with a suction like a vacuum, and you caught glimmers of starlight as he lapped and nipped. His teeth scraped the wet mark when he pulled away, and your body gave a convulsing shiver that, this time, made him exhale a chuckle against your skin. His nose slid through the slick spit, gliding across your throat and up your chin, brushing your cheek when he met your mouth again. His hand returned to your jaw to squeeze, the other still firmly planted in your hair. Your scalp began to buzz in a way that felt like a dead tingle.

The kiss was delicate this time. Careful, precise, like he was worried he'd break you. But Steve never worried about breaking you. He liked you that way. He loved how much you needed him to make sense of you.

Steve slowly pulled back, waiting until your eyes fluttered open and blinked at him with slow, breathless beats before rubbing the pad of his thumb over your swollen mouth. His own seemed a little larger, and as he tipped his head toward the light, you realized his lip had split open again with the force of his kiss. Your tongue immediately sought the remnants on your mouth, relieved to locate the metallic taste just past your bottom lip on your chin.

Steve's lip twitched at that.

"On the bed, baby." His voice was so soft that you were sure you'd fabricated it.

But then he let go of your hair and dropped his hands to his sides, and before he could blink in that expectant, impatient way, you spun around and hurried toward the bed. You were on your knees and about to reach for your zipper when Steve caught your wrists. It was the smack of skin on skin that made you freeze, catching his eye to find it empty again.

"Ah-ah," he scolded gruffly. "Hands down. I'll do it."

He released you and you obeyed, lowering your hands to your sides. Steve inched closer, and your head met his chest as he curled over the front of you to find the back. You inhaled quietly, searching for his scent. Muddled soap and heavy sweat, a cigarette smoked in the lot on the way to the cab. You brought your hands to his stomach and slipped them under his skirt, sweeping them across his muscular sides. He twitched, chuckling deeply despite himself against your neck. Your zipper snicked as it escaped your spine and fell to your tailbone, and your dress pooled in your lap as Steve stood tall again.

You tipped your head back to gaze at him, cheeks swollen with heat and lip caught between your teeth. Your hands were still under his shirt, still gripping him like a toy. He gave you it, pulling his shirt over his head with a tug of the back collar. It flew across the room in a dash of black fabric, and then you were gazing at his lean-cut muscles peppered with black and blue and a few fading greens. His stomach flexed when you brought your fingers to circle the nearest bruise, a grunt balling in his throat.

You returned both hands to his sides, right above his belt. Leaning forward on your knees, you pressed your mouth to the warm patch of skin where blood pooled and painted him colorful. You puckered a gentle kiss. Steve swallowed, jeans tightening. Mouth still pressed against him, you lifted your eyes to gauge his expression and he felt like he could burst.

His hands slid into your hair, pushing your head back with a grip on both sides. You rubbed your thumbs into his muscles, massaging the strain.

"Does it hurt?"

He eased his grip on the right side of your face and brushed your hair behind your ear. He stroked your cheek with the back of his knuckles, head cocking toward his shoulder. The scabs of a bare-knuckle practice scratched the skin on your face in the nicest way. He still smelled like blood.

"I like it to," he said.

You pushed off on your heels, nose brushing his chin as you inched closer to his height. He slid your hair over your shoulder to bare your neck, placing the breeze of his knuckles there.

"Me too."

Steve's eyes snapped away from your neck toward your own, a brief flash of surprise seeping through the brutish void. When you gnawed on your lip and danced your fingers over the firm leather of his belt, he let the surprise slip away as swiftly as it came.

In its place came the animalistic need to tear you apart.

He pushed your hands away without a word, and you sank back down to your heels on the mattress, watching with round, welled up eyes as he undid his belt. The buckle clinked and hung loose at his pelvis. The zipper snicked. The denim of his jeans whooshed down his legs. In only his boxers, tight against him and leaving nothing to the imagination, he resumed his hold on your face to direct your attention back to his eyes.

He pulled at the sleeve of your dress hanging limply in your lap. "Off."

You made quick work of discarding the fabric, sliding it down your legs and throwing it away. Steve snapped your bra strap next, and you bent your arms behind your back to unhook the band. All he had to do was flicker his eyes toward your panties for you to remove those, too.

When you were naked, you waited a beat. A moment of such palpable silence that you were certain he'd hear your heart beating. With the way your blood started rushing to your ears, pumping with such forceful gushes and thumps, you could barely hear anything over it yourself.

Then you reached for his bulge, aching and waiting, unable to contain yourself. Once more he grabbed your wrist, holding your touch away from him. You reached with the other hand, happy to play his game. He grabbed that one, too, and soon he had you right where he wanted.

Though, not quite.

He slammed you against the mattress on your back. Pinned by his hold on your arms, flattened by his weight pressing down on you. Your heart moved to your throat, throbbing wildly. Your legs instinctually parted to make room for him between them.

Steve searched between your eyes, bouncing between left and right, inhaling your every exhale. When he saw nothing but bliss, he slid your arms above your head and crossed your wrists together. Gripping them in one big palm, he used the other hand to mark a path down your side that had you squirming and shivering. You giggled when he circled your navel, only to gasp when he swept two fingers down your pelvis.

He knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew every route to take. He knew the shortcuts that would bring you to your fastest peak. He knew the long, winding paths that would make you whine and cry and beg him to cut you a break.

He knew you.

Just like you knew him, and how much he needed to be the biggest in the room. How much he needed this power over you, this control over you. Sometimes, he traveled too far. Sometimes, your favorite thing in the world was when he took over the wheel.

You wanted his control. You needed it.

Steve gently guided the tips of those two fingers between your legs, pushing just gently past the warm, squishy barrier. You sucked him in, mouth unhinging with another gasp when he sank the length of his fingers in entirely. The grip you had on him was tight, and your thighs were already shaking when he brought his thumb to your clit, beating and pulsing with want for his attention.

"You like it to hurt," he whispered, eyes sliding briefly toward your bare chest before your eyes again.

You bobbed your head, face so hot it hurt. "Yes."

"Do you want it to hurt, angel?"

"Please."

Steve didn't let you wait, and for this you were grateful. His hair tickled your cheek, his breath fanned your neck, and then his mouth was clamping onto the patch of tender muscle between your shoulder and neck. His teeth sank in, delivering a dull sting that made you shriek. He pulled away when you began to pant.

He moved his mouth to your breast, fingers loosening around your wrists. He sank into the squishy fat, gathering a chunk of it between his teeth. It stung a little sharper, hurt a little better. You cried out this time, and he pumped his fingers in a gentle push and pull as he moved to the other breast. You could barely suck in a breath.

Wet patches caught gusts of cool air as he maneuvered over your body, covering you in his mouth and leaving you with his teethmarks to prove it. He released your wrists, but your head was so fuzzy and full of air that you didn't even think to move them. Steve wanted them there. You wanted what Steve wanted.

Steve clamped down on your waist, following the valley of your curves. You jerked the other way, body instinctually recoiling. He bit into your hip, then your thigh, then your stomach, then the thin skin just above your pelvis. He had you covered in him and writhing for more, cheeks soaked with tears he was certain you didn't even know were shed.

Face pinched and pooling with red-hot heat, you gasped for air and arched off the bed. Steve's fingers worked deeper between your legs. His thumb rubbed with the firmest pressure in just the right spot. You stomped your feet against the mattress and whined, long and howling.

"Steeeeve."

It burned, he could tell. He could tell by the way you trembled and closed your legs around his hands. He could tell by the way you blinked tears to the ceiling, how you balled your hands into fists—still above your head. You couldn't hold steady and you looked close to nausea.

Steve settled on his knees between your legs, free hand smoothing over your wobbling thigh. He loomed over you with an empty expression, taking in your bare body and his mouth branding nearly every inch of it.

Just as you lifted your back again, hands flying down to grip the mattress in preparation for the orgasm winding a knot behind your navel, Steve ripped his fingers away. You cried—a pitiful, pathetic, snot-filled sob that sliced through the room and made Steve huff.

But Steve had mercy on you. He replaced his fingers with something better, and your cry dwindled to short sniffles as the head of his cock breached your throbbing entrance. He slid your thighs over his, pulled you down until you were forcing half of him in. You howled again, head tipping back, hands reaching for his. You found them on your waist, gripping in a vice.

With slow and steady caution, Steve eased between your legs and mounted over you once more. He propped himself on his forearms, caged on either side of your shoulders to squish your arms against your sides. There was nowhere for you to run. You were inching close to orgasm again already just at the thought.

Steve cupped his palm over the crown of your head and leaned in until his nose brushed your own. His thumb pressed against your forehead, his breath tickled your open, shining mouth. You could see the blood gathering on his lip again. It wobbled there, at the split seam of soft tissue. It glistened and, in your foggy, fucked-out mind: it called to you.

You swept it up with your tongue, sucking with a gentle pull that made Steve's seem cruel. But even that delicate, meek suction had him groaning, had him bucking into you wildly. You released him and he followed the metallic scent of your breath, thanking you for his brief sting with a nip on your bottom lip.

'Hurt me, so I can hurt you.'

And squished under him, taking every assault of teeth and lapping up the blood, you found something in pain you never knew was possible: peace.

A simple, mindless transaction. I hurt you, you hurt me. This is how we say I love you.

Hurt me. So I can hurt you.

Steve pressed your heads together, rutting into you so deep you almost thought you could feel him in your throat. But maybe that was just more tears, pooling and lumping until you couldn't swallow past it. So you released it, weeping in a way that had Steve kissing your hot, sticky cheeks just to ease the hysteria. But he wanted those tears, and he basked in how they tasted on his mouth.

In one final effort, one last turn toward his destination, Steve reared back just enough to bring his hand down on your ass, thigh hitched over his hip to bare it to him. It slammed down with a sharp clap, delivering a sting that spread like wildfire and reverberated through your thighs and spine.

It was exactly what you needed to shatter. It sent you stumbling, clinging to Steve like you'd fall apart without him holding you steady. You weren't entirely sure that was false. You whimpered into his neck, fingers buzzing against his back. You sounded so pathetic, sniffling and hiccuping like that. Steve kissed your jaw and caught a glimpse of the blotchy bruise he left on your neck. You'd be stuck with it for days.

Steve spilled into you, raw and warm, sticky and disgusting. He brushed his nose against your bruise and felt it throb. He ran his thumb over the red shape of his mouth on your hip as he slipped from between your legs. He brushed his hair back against his head and licked the blood from his split lip. His knuckles had broken open and stained the white sheets near your head.

On sore thighs and wobbling knees, Steve settled between your limp legs once more and gazed down at the mess he made. He brushed your hair from your eyes and cradled your cheek. Still catching your breath, you leaned into his hold with heady exhaustion, placing your hand over his. You'd be just as bruised as Steve tomorrow morning, and you'd marvel in the mirror at the pretty colors he painted you with.

And the best thing about it? Steve wasn't hurting anymore. He gave it all to you.

♡ ♡

[ash5monster01]

Piano Man

Chapter Two - If I Only Had the Words (to Tell You) 🎶

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of heartbreak, abandonment issues, emotional vulnerability, heart ache, established relationship

Summary: You and Steve have been dating for nearly 6 months, all of which he’s enjoyed. Yet it has been exactly a year since Nancy told him he was bullshit. So even though he desperately wants to tell you he loves you he’s afraid you might say he’s bullshit too.

word count: 2k

One ←→ Three

Masterlist

Fall 1985

But I only have these arms to hold you

It’s a dark Fall night. The house smelling of popcorn you had popped earlier to watch during a movie. Halloween decorations had been plastered all over Steve’s home, a home that hadn’t been decorated for any holiday in a very long time. You had changed that though, changed him. You made not only this home full, but his heart. Which is why Steve lies beside you in his bed absolutely hating himself for not being able to tell you how he feels. How much he loves you, how much you had saved him these last six months.

You had been there for it all. Cheering in the stands when he graduated, taking your lunch break to visit him everyday at Scoops Ahoy, not getting jelous of his newfound friendship with Robin, taking care of him when the monsters returned and the mall burned down, and even helping him and Robin get hired at the video store where you had worked this entire time. Everytime he thought you'd leave, somehow you were still there, and he appreciated you for every bit of it. So why the hell couldn't he say it?

He knew why. He knew because everytime he looked at the plastic Halloween decorations filling his home he was brought right back to Tina's Halloween party. Right back to that very bathroom where the only girl he ever loved looked into his eyes and told him he was bullshit. It had been a year but he still remembered how devastated he was, how his heart felt as she ripped it straight from his chest. The look in her eyes was seared into his memory, devoid of any emotion but distate blazing in them. He couldn't relive that, wouldn't relive that. Especially with you.

He may have loved Nancy but with you it was different. With you, he knew you were going to be the one. The one person handcrafted specifically for him. A soul designed to match his own in a large and lonely world. Somehow he had found you and now he wouldn't do anything to risk it, he would guarantee it. It had hurt when Nancy said she didn't love him but if you did. Well that would kill him.

"What kind of candy do the kids like?" you ask in the dark bedroom, voice overlapping that of Billy Joel's from the cassette player. You're My Home played softly throughout the room and you wished Steve knew that was how you felt about him. That until now you were pretty sure you had nowhere to belong and now you belonged to him.

"Why do you ask?” Steve hums, hands reaching to run through your hair. He lived for nights like this, where you just laid here with legs tangled together and talked about things practically meaningless.

"Well I want to make them happy, I know how much they love Halloween. Dustin hasn't shut up about it all week and I want something to cheer Mike up. I know how badly they wanted to dress up as The Goonies but with Will and El gone they can't" you tell Steve, hand lacing with his own under the covers. Steve smiles softly at you and how much you care for the very kids he had taken under his own wing.

"I don't know what kind of candy they like, I'm sure whatever is fine. As for Mike, tell him we can be Andy and Brand. Maybe I can convince Robin to be Data or something" Steve tells you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The image of Robin in the Data costume meant for Will makes you giggle and Steve is pulling you closer, chest brushing against your own.

"You'd give up our Grease costume for that?" you ask, knowing how excited he was to be Danny Zuko and wear his leather jacket.

"Yeah but don't tell them that. They'll get big heads" Steve grumbles, practically hearing Dustin tease him about how much he loves all of them. You giggle against him and Steve warms over, feeling those very words sitting heavy on his chest. If only he had the words to tell you. He knew you were waiting, wondering why he hadn't said them. If you only had time to understand why he struggled with it so much. Everyone he ever loved left, if he said these words outloud he couldn't risk you leaving him too.

"You're the best Stevie" you tell him, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his nose. Steve hums in delight, not allowing you to back away as he pulls you to his lips and kisses you quickly. He knows you love him, you only said things like that to replace those very words. If he would just say it your response would have been 'I love you Stevie'. Instead he gets broad statements that he has slowly come to despise.

"Yeah, yeah, best babysitter ever" he mumbles and you giggle because even though he pretends to hate it you know how much he loves it. How much he loves those kids. If he didn't he wouldn't spend time with them. One of those very kids was his ex girlfriend’s brother and he never let any of those things stop him. He was always there for them.

"Only the best can handle six kids at a time" you tell him and Steve searches your eyes, loving how when you look at them they’re filled with adoration instead of hate. He knows not saying anything won't change your feelings and you will carry on loving him without it. He just couldn't bring himself to say it, the urge never there even though he was practically dying inside to tell you. He wished you knew how hard it is to say.

Sometimes when he finds himself even close he feels silly. I love you seemed too simple to portray the love he had for you. It was so basic, a word your heard on the radio over and over again. Every song as simple as the last. How unoriginal were his words when the radio repeats them every single day? Even with his love for Billy Joel he figures he'll never find a song to sing you. One that perfectly depicted exactly how he felt about you. He doesn't want to sing those tired words again, words he wasted on people who never loved him back.

“You ever think about having kids?” Steve asks, leaning back into the pillow and staring at his ceiling. You admire the soft tufts of his hair on his chest, the way his bicep flexes as he reaches to tuck his hand under his head. He’s so handsome and it should scare you that your boyfriend of only six months has suddenly asked you about having kids and yet you don’t seem to mind.

“All the time” you tell him earnestly, snuggling into his side and grazing your fingers along his sternum, grinning when he shivers from your touch.

“I want to have a whole bunch, make me feel better about being an only child” Steve says, his hand pressed to your back slowly sliding up and into your hair.

“What do you mean, make you feel better?” you ask, lifting your head to glance at the boys face as he continues to be deep in thought.

“I was a lonely kid, my parents never really cared to pay any attention and without any siblings or cousins I was left to my own devices. I think it’s half the reason I was such an asshole in high school” he says, almost wincing at the thought of how many people he had treated like shit over the years just to guarantee he wouldn’t be all alone.

“You were protecting yourself” you say, understanding exactly what he means and Steve nods, eyes glancing down at your form.

“I want my kids to have built in friends and even better, present parents” he tells you and suddenly you find yourself wanting nothing more than to have kids with the boy beside you.

“You’ll be the best Dad Steve, I just know it” you tell him and there are those words again, sitting on his tongue and begging to escape but he just can’t seem to let them go. He hates himself for it, looking away before you see the regret in his eyes.

“I hope so, I just wish my Grandpa was still around to see it” he says, thinking of the only person in his life who ever really liked him for him when he was growing up. The man who had heaven sent you straight to him when he needed you the most.

“He is, don’t you worry about that Stevie” you tell him, eyes fluttering close as you listen to cassette playing in the room. The boombox clicked, indicating the start of a new song. Worse Comes to Worst slowly filling the room.

“Oh worse comes to worst. I’ll get along” you start singing the melody into the dark night air, the fall breeze fluttering in from the window and brushing against the curtains.

“I don’t know how, but sometimes - I can be strong” Steve starts singing along with you and suddenly your both giggling into the night, sharing a love for one another and a love for Billy Joel. The very man that had brought you two together.

“Do you ever get sick of listening to him?” Steve asks and you know he’s asking you about Billy Joel. You shake your head softly against his chest, gazing into those hazel eyes.

“No, he reminds me of you. Makes me feel close to you no matter where I am. Yet I suppose that’s exactly how he makes you feel about your Grandpa” you say, voice humming along the boys ribs.

“Yeah but now he reminds me of you too” Steve admits and you smile before leaning up and capturing his lips in your own. When you had approached the sad boy in the record store you never would have imagined it would bring you here.

"I'm gonna try and sleep" you tell the boy, snuggling closer and allowing your heavy eyelids to close. Steve smiles softly and presses another kiss to your forehead. He knows life goes on and tonight will soon be gone. Another missed opportunity to tell you exactly how he feels. His wished he had the words to tell you but instead he only has his arms to hold you, pulling you closer into him. It's really all you can ask of any man, to be held with such love even if he won't say it.

"Goodnight Rosy" he mutters, 'I love you' he says in his head. He knows disappointment swells in your chest, having been by his side for six months and waiting to know exactly how he felt about you. The only noise in the dark room now is the voice of Billy Joel and your soft breathing. He pulls you close, relishing in the feeling of having you in his arms. When he’s sure you’re asleep he tells you.

"I love you Rosy, I really do. Just please don't give up on me, I promise I want to say it. You deserve to know just how much I adore you but every person I've ever loved has left me. I know you won't but I need time for my head to catch up with my heart. Until then, if I only had the words to tell you..."

Taglist: @slvtforstve @keerygal @goosy-goose @livsters @blckburd @loveshotzz @ohwauwdoritos @superblysubpar @southereads @amataadriana @violet2022 @mxrcjqckspnchqsc @madaboutjoe @thunderstomp-and-tequila @justdamnpeachy @micheledawn1975 @fangfatale @kingstevesgf @eddiesguitarskills @palmtreesx3 @momospeaches47 @pbs-theundeadmaggot @notlilyyyy @xuimhao @lianna75 @lvjmel @sadbitchfangirl @halflifejess @starkleila

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[judeswhore]

love on you; steve harrington

summary: a few months into your relationship with steve you were still waiting on your first time but after an extra long day at work all you want is for him to relieve you of some tension

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

requested: yes

warnings: smut, 18+, oral (f) receiving, fingering, slight dirty talk, protected sex, this turned out a lot longer than i expected bc i wanted it to be soft and fluffy so hopefully it is

notes: feedback is appreciated! you can find my masterlist here. there was another request for sweet sex with steve after work which i incorporated into this but i lost the original ask so to the anon who sent it this is also ur request and i’m so sorry!

steve knew you were exhausted the moment you stepped into his bedroom, dropping your work bag to the floor with a quiet huff, lips pouted almost dramatically as you flopped down on top of him. you were still in the diners uniform, a cute yellow dress that steve told you constantly was the hottest thing he'd ever seen, but you'd removed the white frilly apron and black flats that came with it. he himself had finished his shift at family video almost two hours ago and after dropping dustin off at eddie's trailer, he'd spent the rest of his time waiting for you to finish, watching jaws.

his arms found your waist as you tucked your face away in the crook of his neck, lashes fluttering against his skin when you closed your eyes and he held back a shiver at the feel of your breath on his throat. you'd slid one hand into his hair and steve grinned at the way you so comfortably clung to him, took pride in the fact he was your source of comfort after a long day. he turned his head to kiss the side of yours, tucking his nose away in your hair and breathing in the familiar scent of your sweet and flowery perfume.

"rough day?"

"the absolute worst, my feet are gonna fall off." he could feel you pouting and the sleepy warn out tone of your voice tugged at his heart and he found himself pouting too. he brushed his hand up and down your back, slow and soothing and you seemed to melt into him, a content hum tickling his collarbone.

"my poor baby." he left a cluster of kisses against your head, tender and loving, the tips of his fingers tickling the bare skin at the back of your thigh before working back up. his touch made you shudder, had the tension in your shoulders finally unwinding after such a long day. it was always a surprise to you how much comfort steve could bring, how he would settle your mind and heart, could have you forgetting all about the stresses of your day with just a few light kisses and fleeting touches. no one had ever had that kind of effect on you before, no one had ever made your head spin and heart stutter the way he did. "how can i make it better?"

you shifted against his body at that question, lifting your head to finally look at him and he sent you a lovesick smile, one that twisted up your insides. you grinned at his slightly messed up hair, more than happy that it was free from product, fluffy and unkempt, eyes tracking over his freckles, those lips that you'd thought about on more than one occasion today. he was still tracing his fingers along your thigh and each time he got a little higher up your dress your body reacted, stomach clenching, pulse flickering in more than one place.

"you can kiss me." his smile turned cheeky, more flirty as he lowered his eyes, lifted his head until his lips grazed yours.

“can i now?” your nod had your noses bumping, your top lip catching slightly on his bottom and steve’s fingers curled around the back of your thigh. his other hand held your waist, his eyes twinkling and the heat of him made you feel a little flustered. in one movement he’d flipped the two of you over, your back hitting his mattress, head against his soft pillow and you giggled arms winding around his neck. he slotted easily between your legs, forearms resting on either side of your head and dipped low, lips brushing soothingly over your jaw. “missed you.”

“how much?”

“so much.” he nipped playfully at your ear, dragging his mouth back along your cheek until it hovered over yours, breath warm against your skin. he gave you one simple kiss, quick, fleeting, barely even there and it made you pout, fingers sinking into his hair. “been thinking about you all day.” he pressed a kiss to your pout but it still wasn’t enough to satisfy you, your skin prickling with an overwhelming need to feel him. in any way.

“yeah? what about?” he grinned that devilish grin again and dipped down to your neck, your head tipping back when you felt his lips at your throat. his kisses were full and wet, tongue darting out to soothe over the gentle marks he’d made and you gave a breathy sigh, fingers twisting in his hair. steve’s body between your legs had resulted in your dress rising up, thighs completely bare and your heart hammered when he slid his hand down it, fingers hooking around the back of your knee to lift it over his hip. it had him pressing completely into you, the fabric of his jeans against your clothed clit making your head spin, a whimper getting caught in the back of your throat.

in the months since you and steve had started dating you’d gone no further than heavy make outs, soft groping with fumbling and unsteady hands. on your part at least, steve was an expert with his hands, even when just running them along your body, teasing over your boobs as you’d moaned into his mouth. you hadn’t had your first time yet, with anyone, you hadn’t wanted to rush, but right now, pressed beneath your boyfriend, his weight and heat pushing you further into the bed, you didn’t want to wait anymore. you wanted him, in the closest way humanly possible. you were tired of the pent up frustration, the need to feel him completely almost overwhelming and after the awful day you’d had at work you wanted steve and the pleasure he could give you to help you relax.

“‘bout how pretty you are,” his words were muffled by your skin, slightly rough around the edges and you wondered if he was struggling to stay composed as much as you. he was still yet to kiss you properly and it was driving you insane, every part of your body begging to be touched by him. “because you’re so fucking pretty, baby, y’know that? got the prettiest eyes. the prettiest smile.” he punctuated his last two sentences with kisses to your mouth, his nose nudging yours. “you’re beautiful.”

steve finally kissed you, full and proper, lazy drags of his lips against yours that were mind numbingly sweet. he made a noise into the kiss, one that had your hips bucking up against his, fingers pulling at the ends of his hair and he groaned again in response, a sound that came from deep in his chest. his forearm was pressed just above your head on the pillow, holding himself up and his other hand left your thigh to cup your jaw, tilting your head back so he could deepen the kiss. he rolled his hips carefully into yours and your mouth fell open on a gasp, steve’s tongue taking the opportunity to meet yours.

your body felt like it was on fire, your dress suddenly too warm and too tight, heat creeping up your chest and neck as you licked into steve’s mouth, revelling in the taste of coffee on his lips. his thumb was brushing over your cheek, soft and comforting, and you felt dizzy with desire, fingers running down his sides until you reached the hem of his shirt. you pushed your hands beneath it, palms flat to his abdomen and you felt him tense, felt the strain in his jeans as he once again rocked his hips into yours, a shudder running through him. you wrapped your fingers in the hem of his shirt and tugged, pulling your lips away from his.

"take it off." your words were breathless, uttered against the corner of his mouth and steve paused momentarily as you pushed his shirt a little further up. he was breathing just as hard as you, chest rising and falling a little rapidly and it shocked you how much of an effect you seemed to have on each other. a few minutes of making out and you were both a little dizzy and disoriented. steve shifted up on to his knees between your legs, raised his arms and tugged the white shirt over his head, discarding it carelessly to his floor.

you followed him up, sitting with your knees bent on either side of his body, hands reaching for his chest, fingertips tracing the lines of his muscles, the dip of his v as you took in his now disheveled state. mused hair, kiss swollen lips, soft pink cheeks. he looked like sex and it was driving you insane. he dipped back down to kiss you, moaning softly into your mouth when you ever so lightly dragged your nails down his back. you ran your hands along his arms, the bulge of his biceps making your head spin because even after all this time you still found it hard to believe he was yours. he was someone who always seemed so far out of reach, someone who was too perfect to ever look twice in your direction and it was hard sometimes not to pinch yourself just to make sure it wasn’t all a dream.

your head tipped back, a breathy sigh rolling from your lips when steve dropped his face into your neck, lips hot and teasing on your skin. he sucked a kiss into a spot at the base of your throat and your stomach tightened, clit throbbing and it was almost embarrassing how desperate and wet you were. steve had barely done anything yet the damp spot in your underwear was only growing larger. he soothed his tongue over the mark he’d made, his fingers squeezing at your thigh, hand pushing your dress up until it was almost around your waist. the top of his thumb swiped beneath the band of your underwear and you squeezed his bicep, nerves on fire wherever he touched. curling your fingers around his wrist you pulled his hand from your thigh, brought it up and around your back, guiding him towards the zipper of your dress.

“can you unzip me?” it was a whisper but steve still heard, body freezing, lips parting from where he’d been sucking and biting a small blossom beneath your ear. he pulled back to meet your eyes, his own dark and lust filled, a little glassy and unfocused. he blinked at you, once, slowly and then reached his hand to brush along your cheek.

“we don’t have to do anything, you don’t have to feel like we need to just because, y’know.” he glanced down at his naked chest and then a little further until you were both staring at the obvious bulge in his jeans. he was straining against the material and you so badly wanted to touch him, wanted steve to teach you all the things he liked so you could have him falling apart in front of you. you shook your head, fingers brushing his hair back off his forehead, slipping easily through the silky strands.

“i want to. i- i want you.” the words settled over you, steve’s eyes flickering between both of yours as if he was trying to find any hint of hesitation, any small indication that you didn’t actually want to go any further. he rubbed his thumb softly over your bottom lip, shuffling a little closer to you.

“you’re sure? i don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, we can just like make out and watch a movie.” he gave you a small, lopsided grin as you took his face between both of your hands, cupped his cheeks and pressed a light kiss to his lips.

"i'm tired of just making out, wanna feel you." steve made a soft sound at your words, eyes falling closed for a second as he drew in a deep breath before letting it fan out over your lips. he bumped your nose lightly and then was kissing you again, slow and toe curling, completely all consuming, his fingers working at the zipper on the back of your dress. his knuckles dragged along your spine and pulled a shiver from you, your heart thrumming in your chest, tummy winding as he helped you out of the material, dropping it to the floor beside his shirt.

"you're gorgeous, just fucking perfect, baby." his eyes immediately fell to your chest, boobs almost spilling from your bra and suddenly he was crowding you, pressing you back into the mattress, arms caging you between them. his mouth was everywhere, against your jaw, your throat, grazing your collarbone, pressing softly into the swell of your boobs. his hands were just as bad, sliding up your thigh, over the dip of your waist, fingers brushing over every part of you they could. your fingers got lost in his hair, your whole body catching alight with each drag of his tongue until your chest was heaving and you were slowly becoming a whimpering mess.

steve's finger tip traced along the skin just beneath your bra, his lips shifting into a small smirk when you shivered. "can i take it off?" you were nodding before he'd even finished, lifting on to your elbows so he could reach the strap.

"please." the second your bra was gone steve was on you, mouth latching on to one nipple, thumb and finger pinching and rolling the other. he gently cupped your boob, squeezing softly until you were arching into him, pressing his head closer with your grip on his hair. he pulled off with a pop, blew cold air against your now wet skin and watched goosebumps rise across your body.

"got the prettiest tits." you felt hot all over, flustered and worked up, hips lifting so you could grind against steve's cock, slightly annoyed that his jeans were still in the way. he groaned low in response and bucked back into you, the metal of his belt cold and stinging against the flushed skin of your stomach. steve flicked his tongue over your nipple, pressed a series of soft kisses to the space between your boobs, nuzzling into your skin just slightly. "gonna take care of you, okay? but you have to tell me if you want me to stop."

"i will, promise, just-just do something." your mind was spinning, pussy throbbing with an overwhelming sense of need and you couldn't help the whine that slid into your voice. steve lifted his head and pressed a tender kiss to your mouth, lingering a few seconds before shuffling down the bed and your body. his hands soothed over your sides as he settled between your open legs, turning his head to kiss your thighs, mouth trailing up towards your pussy. the wet patch was obvious and steve grinned, blew onto it and watched as your body tightened.

“gonna make you feel so good, pretty girl, just relax for me yeah?” you gave a jerky nod of your head, watched steve hook his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and slowly tug them down. he kept his eyes on yours the whole time, even when he dipped his head and kissed the inner side of your knee, soft and comforting. “tell me if you want me to stop.” he repeated and despite the hunger raging low in your belly you couldn’t stop the swell of affection in your heart at his words. you nodded again and reached for one of his hands, locking your fingers through his and squeezing.

you’d propped yourself up slightly on your elbows, wanting to watch steve as his lips brushed over your inner thigh, his hair tickling against your sensitive skin and your thighs tensed on either side of his head when he pressed a feather light kiss to your clit. he looked at you from beneath his lashes, another kiss sending a surge of longing and desire up your spine.

“thought about this so much, y’know, ‘bout how good you’d taste, all the pretty noises you’d make. drove me fucking insane.” he mumbled and you let out a soft gasp at the way his bottom lip caught on the sensitive bundle of nerves. before you had the chance to say anything, to beg him to finally touch you, his tongue met your skin, gave one bold swipe from your already dripping hole to your clit and you fell back into the mattress. steve kept his hand in yours and ran his thumb comfortingly over your skin, his other hand pressed to your thigh in order to keep you open for him.

his tongue made quick work over you, flicking softly at your clit, lapping at your hole as he groaned at the taste of you, nose bumping deliciously into your clit. your body was tensing within minutes, thighs attempting to close around steve’s head as pleasure curled in your tummy, numbed your mind. you pressed your head back into his pillow, free hand reaching to grip his hair and your lips fell open, quiet moans spilling into the room. steve groaned low in his chest when you pushed his head further into you and attempted to roll your hips, chasing the orgasm that was only minutes away.

it wasn’t like you’d never touched yourself before, countless make out sessions with steve had resulted in you going home and taking care of yourself but this was different. it had never felt this good, this electric before, your entire body was wracked with pleasure, clit pulsing when steve sucked it into his mouth and your moans turned to whines, your back arching from the bed. he teased the bud with his teeth, kept his lips wrapped around it and sucked hard, his hand leaving your thigh so he could tease two fingers at your hole. you were already so wet, so worked up that they slid in knuckle deep without resistance, your surprised moan like music to steve’s ears.

“oh fuck.” you clenched down around his fingers, they were so much bigger than yours, thicker, longer, could reach sensitive spots that yours couldn’t. spots that had stars dancing behind your eyelids when your eyes fell closed. your grip on his hair was tight, hips rising from the bed as the sounds of his fingers entering you mixed in the air with your moans.

“doing okay, princess?” you could only nod, whining when he increased the pace of his fingers, curling them up to press against your walls. he was stretching you out, prepping you for his cock and your head spun as you revelled in the pleasure his thick length could bring if this was how his fingers felt. he flicked the very tip of his tongue over your clit, swirled it a little before lifting his head. “tell me how it feels.”

“so good, god, so good steve.”

“yeah? taking my fingers so well, can feel you squeezing them, you gonna cum?”

“yeah, oh my god. m’so close.” steve had dived back in, lips and tongue against your clit, fingers twisting and scissoring inside of you, working you open and towards you orgasm. it was dangling over you, thighs shaking on either side of his head, your fingers squeezing lightly at his while your head turned, face buried in his pillow. the coil in your tummy was ready to snap, pleasure burning inside of you and the continuous fluttering of your pussy had steve fucking you harder with his fingers. it sounded dirty and sinful, your wetness dripping messily out of you, down his wrist and on to his sheets.

“there you go, baby, i’ve got you. god you look so fucking pretty when you cum, wanna watch you forever.” your orgasm hit you like a truck, hard and all at once, a high keening moan of steve’s name and a few curses tumbling from your lips. your clit throbbed against his tongue, pussy squeezing his fingers tight as he leisurely pumped them in and out of you, riding out your high with slow careful licks. your thighs had closed around him, your fingers locked in his hair and it took a few seconds before you let him go, body relaxing as you sank back into his sheets.

your chest heaved and everywhere was overly sensitive, your skin still prickling with aftershocks of pleasure and you whined when steve pulled his fingers from you. they were drenched in your cum and as he sat up between your still slightly shaky legs you watched him suck them between his lips, suckling softly to clean them. something reacted inside of you, a carnal need for him taking over and you reached for him, tugging him down to slot your lips together. steve hummed softly, licked into your mouth and the taste of yourself on his tongue made your skin hot.

“are you okay?” he pulled away a little, meeting your eyes, fingers brushing beneath your eye, pushing the hair back off your face. despite his jeans you could feel how hard he was, cock pressing into you and you so badly needed to feel him inside of you.

“i’m more than okay, steve.” he smiled at that, nuzzled his nose against your cheek and turned to pressing kisses into your jaw. he was aching in his jeans, cock pulsing, desperate to feel you wrapped around him but he didn’t want to push, didn’t want you to think you had to go all the way. you knew he was hesitating, taking his time instead to kiss new marks into your throat and he groaned a little when your hands fumbled with his belt.

“we don’t have to, if you’re not ready. we can wait.” he dragged his kisses across your cheek until his mouth hovered over yours, his lashes fluttering when you finally unbuckled his belt and moved on to his button.

“i’m ready, i don’t wanna wait anymore.” when steve didn’t make a move to help with with his jeans, his lips just floating over your cheek you paused, worry trickling through your chest. “unless you don’t want to then we can wait.” his head shake was almost aggressive, a disbelieving breathless laugh washing over your skin before he propped himself up on his elbows, soft eyes on yours. he looked more than a little messy and you wondered if you looked just as bad, kiss bitten lips and sex strewn hair.

“i want to, you have no idea how badly i want to but i don’t wanna rush you if you’re not ready. i want you to be one hundred percent sure, y’know? i don’t want you to regret it.”

"steve," you brushed your fingers through his hair, nails scraping lightly over his scalp and lifted to press a kiss to his mouth. "i want this with you, one hundred percent. i don't wanna wait anymore because it's driving me crazy and,” you kissed him again, sweet and tender, not as lust driven as your previous ones. “there’s nothing i could do with you that i’d regret.” a tint filtered over his cheeks, soft and subtle and he brushed his lips with your own, catching your mouth in another scathing, heart pounding kiss.

“god, i got so fucking lucky with you.” one of his hands joined yours and you both worked his button open, the sound of his zipper being dragged down making your pulse spike with anticipation. steve parted from your lips to wriggle out of his jeans and underwear, the fabric hitting the floor with a dull clatter thanks to the belt, and then slowly lowered himself back over you, trailing his fingers up your side.

“i’ll go slow, okay? you can tell me if it’s too much and i’ll stop.” he kissed your cheek, grazed his knuckles over the skin on the underside of your boob and a different kind of heat bloomed in your chest. a heat made from love and adoration, of comfort and warmth and home. the reassuring tone of his voice made your heart skip, a smile tugging the corners of your lips.

“i know, do you, uh- do you have a condom?” steve froze above you, a brief look of panic filtering into his features and your heart dropped, disappointment swirling inside of you. you weren’t on any form of contraception and as much as you trusted steve you didn’t exactly trust his reflexes to be fast enough to pull out. you blinked and let out a breath and then steve grinned, bumped your nose with a quiet laugh.

“just kidding, i’ve got a box.”

“idiot.” you frowned and pinched his side as he leant his upper body over to his nightstand, satisfied when he yelped. he rifled through the drawer, pulled out a little blue packet and you huffed a sigh when he teasingly tapped it against your cheek.

“should’ve seen your face,” he was grinning, propped above you with that cocky, smug look on his face and you had to hold back your eye roll. “like i’d just told you i’d stolen your dog, want me bad huh?” you shook your head, ignoring his comment as you watched him place the condom packet between his teeth. your pussy clenched, a flood of heat settling between your thighs when he tore it open and you realised you were about to feel him completely for the first time. giddy anticipation filled you but the way you glanced at him was all shy fluttery lashes.

“can i do it?” he paused, condom in hand, packet fluttering to the floor and glanced down at you.

“you wanna put it on?” you only nodded and steve smiled, letting you take it from him. “just gotta roll it on yeah? it’s-” his words fell short, a soft hiss sounding from him when your fingers settled soft on his tip. both of you watched you roll the condom down him, his stomach clenching when your fist tightened to make sure it was placed right. he was achingly hard, bigger and thicker than you’d expected but still it was only desire and excitement that thrummed through you, your blood singing with pleasure already.

steve shifted, waited a few seconds as you ran your hands up his arms, locked them around his neck and pressed the tip to your hole, just barely pushing it in. his forehead was against yours, lips almost touching and he paused for a second. “relax for me, okay? gonna take care of you.” you nodded and then he was pushing his hips forward, burying himself into you slowly, inch by inch as your breath caught. the whimper you let out as he brushed against your walls had steve moaning softly, his head spinning at finally being inside you. you were still so wet, slick from your previous orgasm and he faced very little issues filling you up, only stopping once he was pressed completely to the hilt.

you were wrapped so tight, so snug around him, had swallowed his cock so easily and you watched him struggle to keep composure, his lashes fluttering. the stretch was slightly painful, you felt a little too full, could almost feel him in your stomach but the tiny pricks of pleasure at your spine was enough to have you shifting beneath him. he didn’t move at first, kept still, one hand clamped on your hip, the other pressed beside your head for leverage. his warm breath fanned your lips as he stroked your thigh, hooked it up and over his hip and you gasped when it had him pushing impossibly deeper into you.

“we doing okay, pretty girl?”

“yeah, yeah you’re just-” you lifted your hips, grinding up against him for that well needed stimulation to your clit and it made steve moan, quiet but enough to make your pussy flutter around his cock. “just so big.” his laugh was breathless and a little ragged, his cheeks flushing at the compliment, cock twitching as it almost begged for him to finally fuck you.

“you can take it, know you can.”

“yeah, i can take it. you can move, steve, please.”

“i’ll take it slow remember? you can tell me what you like.” you could only nod at that because he’d drawn his hips back, pulled almost completely out of you before pushing back in, pumping into you with slow, drawn out movements. he was so gentle, kept the hand that had been on your thigh, on the side of your face, cupped your jaw lightly so he could bring you in for toe curling kisses.

the first few moments were uncomfortable, your body not used to it but the pain quickly faded into heart trembling pleasure, your fingers tightening in his hair. he didn’t shift his pace, just kept filling you up slowly, each thrust of his cock stretching you all the more perfectly. he was hitting spots so deep, rubbing your walls as you clenched around him, lips parting as moans started to filter through them. he’d angled his hips so each pump would have his pubic bone grinding against your clit, the pleasure from that alone almost blinding.

steve couldn’t seem to get control of himself, he’d tucked his face away in your neck, tangled one hand with yours and his kisses were messy, broken up by his moans and soft grunts. your walls sucked around him, tried to keep him from leaving and he gave an extra hard thrust, one that jolted you up the bed, letting out a surprised whimper as your squeezed his hand.

“sorry, fuck, m’sorry you’re just so tight.”

“want it harder.” you wrapped your legs tighter around his hips, pulled him a little closer and what little thread of self control he had, snapped, his hips bucking harsher into yours. “oh god, steve, just like that.”

“jesus, you’re fucking perfect. taking my cock so well, baby, doing so good for me.” he whispered praises into your ear, about how good you felt, how well you were doing for him and it made your head spin, your fingers tugging at his hair. he fucked you down into the mattress, his thrusts growing a little faster as you teetered a little closer to your orgasm. his cock almost pounded into you, filling you completely before pulling out, the tip kissing against spots you didn’t even know were there, spots that made you dizzy, made your moans a little louder.

you were gripping him so tight, clenching a little harder when he pumped his cock a little faster and he knew you were close, could see it taking over your face and body. he shifted slightly, brought his lips to slant over yours, his thumb finding your clit. you whined when he started rubbing tight circles over it, his thrusts not faltering even when you started to unravel around him. your body tensed, thighs shaking ever so slightly and steve groaned at how tight you’d gotten, his own need to cum almost overwhelming.

“good girl, that’s it, need you to cum for me, baby. c’mon show me how good it is and cum on my cock.” it hit you so fast and sudden, your head tipping away from steve’s lips, back arching until your chest was pressed flush to his, whimpers and moans of his name filling the stuffy air. steve fucked you through it, brushed his fingers through your hair and mumbled how well you’d done, how perfect you were.

his thumb left your overly sensitive clit, hand gripping your hip instead and he gave a few sloppy, erratic thrusts, hips faltering as his stomach tensed. he came with a low groan, one that sent ripples of pleasure through you and made your already pulsing hole, tighten around him even more. he spilled into the condom, hid his face back in your neck as his thrusts got slower. he pushed into you a few more times, not wanting to leave your warm snug walls despite the fact he was just as sensitive as you were.

steve let himself relax on top of you, breath hot and sticky against your neck as your both fought to come down from your somewhat intense orgasms. you were warm and a little sweaty, every part of your body a little too sensitive even as he brushed his fingers up and down your arm. you were both quiet, fighting for breath and you whimpered when steve pulled out of you, a strange empty feeling taking over. he pushed up on to his elbows, met your eyes and sent you a lopsided, tired smile. he was sweaty, cheeks flushed, hair messy and you wanted to pull him in for a kiss, wanted to push him on to his back and fuck him until you couldn’t walk.

“are you okay? you’re not- you’re not hurt or anything? it was alright?”

“i’m perfect, steve, you were perfect.” you kissed him, grinned brightly as you pushed his hair back off his forehead. “i don’t think i’m ever gonna be able to get enough of you.”

“oh really?” he laughed, tickled his fingers into your side as you giggled and shuffled beneath him, heart swelling as he pressed kiss after kiss to your face. “i’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.” the playfulness fell away, his nose rubbing lightly over yours, his gaze tender. “but it can wait, need to get you cleaned up. you might be a little sore, i think i might have been a bit too hard but i can run us a bath and you can relax and we’ll watch that movie?” the kiss he dropped to your forehead was all affection, clear adoration in his face and his tone.

“sounds amazing, stevie.”

[officerrrfriendly]

The Taken, First Strike.

stranger things conjuring!AU, priest!steve harrington x demonologist/clairvoyant!fem reader.

With an abundance of reluctance, your feet found themselves taking brave steps one after another as they eventually met a birch-wood doorway. But it wasn't any ordinary doorway, inside sat her. The frail and misfortunate Maxine Mayfield, who you still referred to as such- out of a habit of profession- much despite her insistence on "just calling her max, she doesn't go by Maxine anymore."

And in that moment, all of your previous doubts from earlier flooded back into your brain, before you could give into them and turn back, she spoke out. She called your name, a glint of hope present in her tone with some desperation, too.

You sigh heavily to try and alleviate all the weight you suddenly feel pressing against your chest before you eventually reply.

"Hi, Maxine," you mutter, smiling softly before slowly approaching the vacant armchair beside her, full of funky patterns and colours. She sat timidly, her hands held onto one another whilst fingers from each hand wandered over freckles on the backs of her hands she had forgotten she had. Her hair was shorter now, bobbed and fell just below her ears but she was still so beautiful. You tried your hardest to avoid looking into the milky white orb of her left eye and the thick bandage that covered the gaping wound on her right.

If you thought about that night for any longer, you thought you would just about lose your mind- so you shook your head of protruding thoughts and focussed on the topic of importance here, which was the girl beside you.

She laughs, and this time it wasn't humourless or dry but it was real, amusing. "How many times have I told you to just call me Max, hm?" she pokes, she sits further up in her seat as you laugh along with her.

"If I had to guess...I'd say only about 100 million times," you say, with a sigh. Your answer makes her smile for a moment but then she sighs, something is clearly bothering her.

Unexpectedly, without needing encouragement to open up, she speaks. "No one's visited in a while, Lucas...he finds it hard coming here, seeing me like this. He's never said it- but..." she huffs, lowering her head down to the floor. "I know that every time he's here with me he's just stuck in that night, what happened to Billy...me. Even though I can't see him, I can sense it, he's terrified to be around me and I hate it. I hate it because I love him so much...do you have somebody like that?" As the forbidden question leaves her tongue it triggers thoughts you had wished to never think about again, you think of him- and how neither of you haven't seen or spoken to each other since that very night.

Your head shakes, wishing to be done with the thought of Father Steve, and how you've treated him since after the night of July 4th 1983...at the exorcism of Billy Hargrove.

"I'd rather not answer that question... Honey, tell me more about what's been going on with Lucas!"

.•.•.•

You wipe desperately at your tears as they fall on your way to your ocean-blue Austin Maestro car. Your fingers struggle to keep up with the vast amount that began to flood out of your tear ducts.

You harboured a considerably brave face - despite Max not being able to notice it- throughout the entire hour after Max had asked you that god-forsaken question to which you had no answer.

She had talked about Billy, her nightmares, PTSD, her love life and even her mom running off to the other side of the world with her new young boyfriend and a bottle of Jack...she lived a sad life, one you had hoped to someday be able to save her from. You wanted her to come and live in your miniature, yet cosy townhouse you had inherited from your late father Richie, god bless his soul.

Seeing her so frail and lonely, woke a sadness inside you that hadn't long gone away, however that sadness also carried a fuckton of guilt. The guilt of knowing that if you had actually, fully prepared for what you were getting into, perhaps you could have saved Billy Hargrove, Max's eyesight (and her sanity), along with her family.

CLONK, you pull on the door handle to the driver's side door and hop inside before taking one last pitiful glance at the hospice. "I'll be back for you...Max," you mutter.

You turn the rusty key into the ignition. The engine fires to life.

.•.•.•

Days had passed and now you were sitting, pondering in your office inside your humble abode. Max hadn't left your mind since your previous visit and you were thinking through the idea that has floated into your noggin and is actively refusing to leave.

A THUD snaps you out of your daydreams and you quickly glance up from your oak-stained desk to see the culprit who dropped four thick textbooks in front of you, stacked on top of one another. You groan when you realise that it's just Robin, the nosy librarian-now-assistant with a child-like grin on her face. 'Oh, she's up to something' you thought, rolling your eyes before asking- "What is it now, Roberto?" you ask, intrigued as you sit up in your seat.

"I think I may have a case for you, Psychic Sally." she grins smugly, pulling a picture of a young boy out of her pocket.

Now that caught your attention.

"Tell me everything."

And she does, she tells you about how a 'Joyce Byers' had called several times today whilst you were out buying groceries begging to speak with you, for your help and assistance as she believes something is gravely wrong with her 11-year-old boy Will and has been ever since they moved into their house two weeks ago with her fiance, Bob.

She claimed a fever, a change in behaviour, sickness and bruising randomly appearing all over his body seemingly coming from nowhere. OH! And not to mention whatever 'entity' is wreaking havoc among them is causing a putrid, rotten smell to linger throughout the entire house...and her dog suddenly died the first night living there after it refused to enter the home.

You were going to visit the Byers' residence...but not alone.

You had somebody to visit.

"Call Father Steve and tell him I need to speak with him immediately, please Robin," you demand, sighing nervously. as your right foot begins to shake uncontrollably under the table.

"Are you sure that's a...I...uhhh-yes! yes, I will go and do that for you right now, if that's...are you sure that's what you want to do because you know I can totally-" she rambles, her voice high-pitched and unsure.

You can't find words so you nod repeatedly, sporting a polite smile and motion at the door. She nervously laughs, gulping "Ha ha ha ha, well! I am just gonna - yep! Haha! Going," she begins to back out of the room pointing to the door, "going..." she reaches the handle before forcibly chuckling, "and gone!" she shuts the door and you can hear her scold "What the hell is wrong with you?...freak!! god...how do I still have this job?"

.•.•.•

"God...how do I still have this job?" Robin questions, huffing embarrassedly. She treks down the terracotta-painted hallway, full of plants and pictures of who Robin had learned to have been your late father. She had found that out accidentally on the first day of moving in with you when she asked, "Is that your husband?" which sparked a very awkward, tense conversation that you both had very quickly laughed off.

She had reached the coffee-coloured door with the cream handle and twisted it, opening the door to her room- filled with posters of Molly Ringwald, Phoebe Cates, Lisa Bonet, Madonna you name it and she had it!!

Full of purpose she sits on her side of the bed, cross-legged and grabs the telephone from her bedside table and dials Father Steve's number carefully before knawing on her lip and impending an answer.

The phone rings a good three times before there's an answer.

"Hello?"

A/N - Hi babies!! how was that?! I know it wasn't the longest but its just to give the story a good push before we really dive into the plot and have some fun. Poor Max :(( SHE DESERVES BETTER!! and poor Chester, such a sweet dog.

LMK how you found this chapter!!

current taglist: @stveharringtn

comment to be added loves :))

[usedtobecooler]

mary on a cross - gator tillman x fem!reader (a limited series of blurbs - part 1 of 3)

warnings: 18+ sexual content, oral m receiving, abuse of power, religious themes, loose background, adultery, praise kink, dacryphilia, hair pulling, general debauchery.

word count: 1.2k

a/n: i'm going to hell for this one but we all knew that. finally i've unleashed my horny thoughts!!

“That’s it, darlin’,” Gator traces your plump, wet bottom lip with his calloused thumb, the tip barely pushing in to part your mouth for him — allow him entry, “‘member what Pastor Reeves said at sermon today — give yourself unto the Lord, trust in him and let him guide you.” 

You nod, spit damp tongue swiping over his salty, flushed skin with every bob of your head. You sit on your knees, ass on your heels, hands crossed in your naked lap obediently. Anything for him, anything for your Savior. 

“Good girl,” a whisper of a smile plays on his lips, as he pries your jaw open with harsh fingers on your heated cheeks, “open wide for me, my little lamb. Show me how good you can be.” 

Your jaw unhinges easily, tongue lolling out as you watch through hooded eyes, Gator’s large hand wrapping around the base of his hardened cock — barely freed from the confines of his chocolate brown church suit trousers. He’s fully dressed barr that, from the slightly loosened collar of his shirt, to the perfectly shined shoes still on his feet. A juxtaposition to how you laid on the plush carpet, completely bare for him to revel and marvel at. 

The weeping head of his cock smears against your cheek, a streak left behind on flushed skin, branding you like an iron to the cattle in your daddy’s pen, before making home in the cavern of your mouth, sliding in like he’d done countless times before. You’d never tire of that breathy sigh that would escape him every time, the marrying of his brows as your lips wrapped around his length, creating the perfect tight heat.  

You knew better than to get involved with the Tillman family, your mama always told you those folks were no good. 

But, Lord forgive you, was Gator Tillman hard to stay away from. 

You prayed at your bedside every evening for forgiveness, for the sin that followed you and darkened the door every time you allowed him to enter your home. To enter your body, to mold himself as one with you – unwed, ruined for any other man after him. Defiled and dirty. Soiled. 

“So fuckin’ good for me, every time,” he moans quietly as his hips begin to move, fingertips leaving your unhinged jaw to settle at the crown of your head, holding you in place with a grip on your locks, a warning to stay put and do as you’re told.

You wanted to be so good for him, the best. Your nails dig into the soft meat of the tops of your thighs as he finds your gag reflex and pushes past it, gliding down your throat until you’re retching and sputtering, already making a mess.

“Count to ten in your head,” Gator commands, voice firm as you struggle to maintain eye contact with him — his own orbs hardened with lust and demand.

Ten seconds feel like a lifetime as your throat spasms around him, nails breaking skin, cunt fluttering despite the discomfort. The need to be good, good, good. His little lamb. His perfect little disciple. 

His cock slides out of your throat and allows you a momentary reprieve before he’s plunging back in again, your flattened tongue catching on a prominent vein and running down it as he starts a brutal pace with a tight fist locked into the most sensitive section of your scalp. 

The grunts and moans spilling from Gator’s open mouth are enough to have you looking skyward, breaking eye contact to momentarily apologize profusely for the debauchery taking place in an unwed bedroom. A sin. One punishable by a lifelong sentence with the Devil himself.

He doesn’t like that, pulls harshly at your hair until tears escape your weeping eyes and pool in your temples with how tightly he’s snapped your neck back, his entire length gone from your mouth and leaving you desperate, begging for him to come back with a quiet whine, “In this room, I am your God. You understand? You pray to me, to my cock. You beg me for forgiveness.” 

“Yes, sir,” your voice is barely above a whisper, wet with tears because you’ve ruined it, how silly could you be, “I can be so good, please? I– I’m so sorry—” 

“You need it that bad, huh?” He chuckles, humorless, grabs a hold of the base of his cock with his free hand once more and slaps you across the face with it this time — you take it, a whimper making its way from deep in your throat, thighs clenching, “Open up, darlin’.” 

Muscle memory. Your jaw unhinges once again as he feeds his thick length to you, not allowing you the mercy of preparing and relaxing this time, going back to the harsh, sickeningly fast pace as he was giving before.

You’re crying properly — when did that happen? Your bloodshot eyes gaze up into Gator’s own and he grunts, groans, shoves in that bit deeper until your saliva oozes from your tight lips, mixing in with your tears and making a downright mess of him.

You don’t dare move, though you ache to touch and feel him, grab handfuls of thick thighs and cling on for dear life. You haven’t been good enough. You don’t deserve it. 

“Fuckin’ cryin’ for me?” Gator gushes, eyes softening ever so slightly, almost awestruck, “It feel good? Being so fuckin’ special for me?” 

You nod again, as best you can given how stuffed full your mouth is, a fresh batch of tears spilling down your cheeks. The salty, heady taste of his precum becomes prominent in the back of your throat, hips stuttering — telltale signs he’s so close. You’re being good, doing so good for him. 

“My obedient girl, I’ve taught you so well,” Gator’s voice is softer, wetter, weakening as his release closes in on him, “perfect little mouth, fuck — gonna let me cum in it? Ruin you, huh? Show me how devoted you are, c’mon.”

You moan around your mouthful, and he pushes in so deep at the sheer vibration of it that your nose brushes the dark, wiry thatch of hair on his pubic bone as he releases. Shoots off so hard and fast you’re struggling to contain your coughs and splutters, swallowing it down like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted.

Hands never moving. Sat perfectly on your thighs that now quake and bleed from blunt nails, pebbled nipples aching with every gentle brush of his loose slacks against them. 

He lets up his grip on your head when he’s done, cock heavy in your mouth and slipping out once spent. Gentle, honey speckled eyes lock with yours once more, a soft caress to your cheek to let you know you did well. 

Clearly not well enough.

He tucks his flaccid cock back inside his pants, still soaked with your saliva, snot and tears — gone without a trace. Leaving you with trembling hands, shaky legs and a soaked cunt, that weeps and begs to be touched as it makes a mess of your inner thighs.

You pray silently for forgiveness and redemption as deft fingers slip past slick folds and relieve the ache you so desperately needed gone.

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Let's Get Physical

Pairing: JoeKeeryxReader

Request: I love your Eddie and Joe Quinn smut and saw you would take requests for Joe Kerry too. You know those pictures of him in the gym? Yeah. Those. I can't stop thinking about gym sex with him. You can do whatever you want with that but just sweaty, intense, rough sex.

18+ Only

This is my first Keery one shot so please be kind.

Your feet pounded a steady rhythm against the treadmill, Lizzo telling you to dust your shoulders off and keep moving through your Airpods. You were finding your concentration slipping. You'd been training for a marathon for the past month and you'd been slowly upping your weekly mileage. It was hard to focus on your pace and time when such a beautiful distraction was a mere ten feet from you, doing bicep curls.

Chiseled abs, lean muscular arms, and beautifully toned shoulders were consuming every ounce of brain space you had. It should be against the law for that man not to wear a shirt. He could cause horrific accidents looking like that. You could see the headlines now. Woman suffers severe burns to her face and chest after collapsing on treadmill, too distracted by hot guy. Woman suffered broken face after dropping a weight on herself, too distracted by shirtless man. He was a menace to society. Who looked like that?

His pants hung low and your eyes ran over that delicious v that pointed just where your curiosity wanted to take you. His chest was covered in a fine layer of hair that you wanted to grab with your fingers and tug, just enough to make him moan from that beautiful mouth. You watched a bead of sweat trickle down along the side of his neck and your tongue darted out, unconsciously wanting to follow it. You wanted to run your hands and...

Shit! His eyes met yours from under the black ball cap resting on his head and he gave you a knowing smile. He knew exactly what you were doing and you were pretty sure he could tell from the flushed skin and lust blown eyes exactly what you were thinking too.

Completely humiliated, you pressed the stop button on the treadmill, anxious as it slowed down. You just wanted to get off this thing, grab your shit, and get out of here. Your eyes moved to the distance display and went wide. You'd been running for eight miles? That wasn't the plan. You were only supposed to do five. Damn that beautifully distracting man.

Hopping off, you took a long drink of water and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from your face. Turning to head to the locker room, you jumped when you found your way blocked by the exact person you were hoping to avoid.

He rested one arm on the treadmill, one foot crossed over the other, an amused smile on lips you wanted to nibble. Jesus, you just knew this man tasted delectable. He tilted his head slightly, pulling his hat off with one hand and your knees went wobbly. His hair! Love in Christ, was there nothing about this man that wasn't perfect? You went to step around him but he side stepped quickly, blocking your way once again.

"You know, you were running for a really long time," he said, his voice melting over you like a warm stick of butter. "You need to stretch. If you don't, you'll be sorry later."

Pressing your lips together, you willed your body to calm down as you responded, "I will. I'll just stretch at home."

"I could help you, you know." He ran his tongue along his lower lip before biting it gently. "You never get as deep of a stretch as you do with a partner."

Fuck. Your brain ceased working, all synapses backfiring, circuits completely blown. You sucked in a sharp breath, willing your body to stop betraying you and do what you needed it to do before you did something stupid.

"Okay."

Yeah, that was the stupid thing you'd been referring to. The man led you to a mat and instructed you to lie on your back. You did, your body submitting to him, willing to do anything he wanted.

"I'm Joe, by the way," he said, his hand gripping your calf and pressing your leg up. His hand caressed your leg as he moved to hold your ankle. He leaned his whole body into it, pressing your leg closer to your body and your thighs clenched as you felt his obvious arousal press against you. "Damn, you're really tight. I knew you needed a good loosening."

"You're awfully good at this," you breathed, fingers scrabbling to grip something as he did the other leg, his body pressed fully against yours, mouth so close you could kiss him, the scent of him taking over your sense, all musk, warm and woodsy.

"I'm awfully good at a lot of things," he replied, his tongue slipped out between his lips as he held your gaze. "You want to find out?"

The next moments were a blur as he yanked you up from the mat, leading you to the men's locker room. The minute the door shut, he was on you, pressing you against the lockers, the cool metal sending a shiver over your flushed skin. It was like your mouths were in a battle, tongues and teeth warring with each for dominance. Your fingers moved through his chest hair, tugging it until you elicited the moan you'd been fantasizing about.

His hands splayed over your ass, fingers digging into the flesh. Then his lips were everywhere, leaving a white hot trail of desire everywhere they touched. Joe grabbed onto your sports bra, roughly yanking it over the top of your head. And then those beautiful lips covered your lips, teasing and torturing you in the most satisfying way. Your center ached with a need like you'd never known.

"Shower," he growled, hands gripping your face and you realized how large they were which didn't help the desire coursing through you, walking you backward while his mouth devoured yours once again. He yanked the shower curtain closed behind him, shoving you back so you were up against the wall once again. His hands pulled on your leggings but you slapped him away.

His eyes darted up to yours in surprise. You placed your hands on that alluring chest and shoved him so he was back against the wall this time. Your tongue ran over your bottom lip, your eyes focused on that delicious v along his hips once again. You had to know what it led it. You had to see it. Dropping into a low squat in front of him, your fingers gripped the hem of his sweatpants, pulling them down his legs.

And there it was, right in front of your face. It was even better than your brain could have imagined. Shit, you wanted to know what it felt like filling you up but first you wanted to know what it tasted like. You took him in your hand, delighting in the hiss that he made through gritted teeth above you.

You gazed up at Joe, giving him a slow smile as you dragged the tip of him over your lips. He grunted, hips moving toward you, eyes going wide with anticipation as he watched you flick your tongue over the tip.

"Fuck...you're such a tease..." he groaned, hands running over his face, head falling back as you ran the flat of your tongue from the base of his shaft, all the way to the tip, before swirling your tongue around him. "Jesus Christ, baby!"

You moaned against him, the sounds he was making driving you insane. There was something about how you were making this man come completely undone that was almost enough to send you over the edge right there.

Gripping his cock in your hand, you slowly worked him, your mouth only sucking on the tip. Raising him up just enough, you slid your tongue along the side before running your tongue over his balls, gently sucking one into your mouth.

Joe's hand slammed against the shower wall, his other coming to grab onto a handful of your hair. You were teasing him, wanting to drive him just to the edge of insanity before giving him what he wanted but he was done with your games.

"If you don't stop teasing..." he huffed.

"You'll what?" you challenged, smiling up at him.

"I am going to fuck that pretty mouth."

"Don't just threaten, do it," you urged, wanting this beautiful man to completely lose control.

"You asked for it," he growled. "Open up."

You obediently parted your lips and he thrust forward, sending the tip of his cock all the way to the back of your throat. You gagged for a second and he pulled back just enough. When he thrust again, you were ready for it, relaxing your throat to take as much of him back as you could.

"You're doing so good for me," Joe praised, his fingers tightening, pulling on your hair as he fucked your face. "Your mouth was made for this cock, babygirl."

Your hands gripped his ass, nails digging into the flesh for purchase as he thrust against your face again and again. Then his cock was gone, hands lifting you and spinning you, pressing you against the shower wall.

"If your mouth feels that good around my cock, I have to know what this pussy feels like," he growled against your ear. "This is one of those things I'm so good at. I am going to fuck you until you're screaming my name so loud that everyone in this gym knows just how good you feel."

His hand hooked under your knee, lifting your leg and opening you up to him. You brought your hands to his shoulders as he guided himself to your entrance and then plunged into you in one swift move. Your eyes rolled back, a guttaral mewl rising up from your chest.

Joe pressed your leg farther up against your body, allowing him to reach spaces within you that you didn't even know existed. Your fingers dug into his skin as your legs trembled beneath you. He rutted into you again and again, his pace unforgiving and relentless, your bodies coming together audibly, made only louder by the acoustics of the shower wall.

You whimpered as he pulled out of you, but then he spun you, pressing your front against the shower before he unmercifully thrust into you again. Your hands splayed over the wall, vulgar sounds uncontrollably leaving your lips.

"That's it beautiful," he crooned, "come all over my cock."

"Make me," you challenged before crying out when his hand dove around the front of you and between your legs to find your clit.

"Gladly," he replied, pinching the sensitive nub between his thumb and forefinger.

"Jesus Christ..." you groaned, rocking your hips to meet his hand and his cock, the dual sensations quickly sending you in the direction of him succeeding. His fingers were ruthless and so damn skilled, circling, flicking, pinching...every muscle in your body was quaking, your stomach tightening. You screamed his name as your orgasm crashed over you light a speeding train into a wall.

"Fuck, yes," he ground out through gritted teeth, continuing to thrust into you as your walls pulsed around him. Joe quickly followed, filling you with his release before pulling out, his forehead falling to press against your shoulder.

You released a slow breath, willing your heart to stop racing, your lungs to catch air, your legs to work. You spun slowly around, keeping your hands on the wall to steady you. Joe grinned at you, leaning his head down and pressing his lips to yours.

"What do you say to a shower, some lunch, and then heading back to my place?" he asked. "There are so many things I am good at that I haven't even shown you yet."

Fuck. You weren't sure you would survive this day but what a hell of a way to go.

[radiosteve]

Hi I don't know if your taking requests at the moment but I just finished I knew you with Steve Harrington and I absolutely loved it ❤ I was wondering if you could possibly do a little piece where Steve and reader go back to Hawkins for a visit I would love to see how everyone would react 🤍

Hi! Thank you so much for your request! I hope you enjoy!

Come Back to Me

Word count: 983

The crisp autumn air invaded your car, sending shivers down your spine. You wrapped your jacket closer to your body before replacing your hands on the wheel. Steve’s hand snaked out from his pocket, landing on your leg in a comforting pat.

“You really gotta get the heat in this thing fixed,” Steve spoke, a cloud of his breath filling the air. He quickly withdrew his hand, shoving it back into his coat pocket so his fingers didn’t freeze.

“We’re almost there Stevie boy. You can hold on a little longer,” you spared a glance at Steve in the passenger seat and couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. His shoulders were up to his ears while his nose and cheeks were bright pink. He was shivering, teeth chattering and all.

“Your parents better have a fire going when we get there,” Steve mumbled, his mouth disappearing under the lip of his coat, obscuring half of his face. You let out another chuckle, passing the ugly brown sign that welcomed you to your hometown. 

Luckily for Steve, your parents did have a fire roaring in the fireplace when you arrived. Steve dropped his bags upon entering, sidling right up to the blazing fire to warm his hands and face. After a moment of relishing in the heat, Steve joined you in greeting your parents with hugs and kisses to each cheek.

“We’re just going to throw our bags upstairs really quick. We’ll be right back,” you told your parents, lifting your suitcase from its resting place and marching up the stairs with Steve in tow. 

During your trek upstairs you were greeted with all the comforts that made your parents' house home. Photos lining the hallways, the soft carpet that squished under your sock-clad feet, the distant sound of your mom’s stereo playing in the kitchen. It had only been a few months since you’d moved out, back now for Thanksgiving, but it seemed like so much longer. You were so caught up in the nostalgia of your childhood home that you didn’t hear the hushed whispers behind your bedroom door. 

A loud, disjointed shout of surprise filled the room as you pushed in the door. You recoiled in surprise, nearly knocking Steve over in the process. Both of your suitcases were abandoned in the hallway as you were pulled into one pair of arms after another. Everyone moved downstairs to where your parents stood with knowing grins on their faces, happy to see you and Steve reunited with your large group of friends. You all migrated around the fireplace, telling stories and catching up on all that you’ve missed.

“Yeah and then Eddie nearly ran us over with his van,” Dustin finished his story about a prank they’d pulled on Eddie last month, shooting a glare at the long-haired boy beside you.

“And I won’t hesitate to go through with it next time,” Eddie shot back, his usual goofiness taking all the bite out of his threat. You leaned back on the couch, Steve’s arm coming up to rest on the cushion behind you.

“How’s the band, Munson?” Steve asked as you nuzzled your head into his shoulder.

“Same old, same old. Not as fun playing at The Hideout without my number one fan in the audience,” Eddie poked your rib, careful to avoid the scars that resided just below there. “Buckley doesn't quite measure up,” Eddie added, as everyone’s gaze shifted to Robin for her reaction.

“He’s no Bowie,” she shrugged and you couldn’t help the grin that formed on your lips as Eddie launched a pillow directly at her face.

After a while of catching up, sleep hung heavy on your mind, growing desperate for some shut-eye after the long drive. All the kids insisted on sleeping over, pulling out blankets and sleeping bags from the back of Eddie’s van that was parked down the street. You all lay on the floor, hushed whispers turning to soft snores as the dark hours lingered on. You got up to go to the bathroom after a bit of tossing and turning. Somehow, you found yourself trailing upstairs, drawn to your childhood bedroom and the purple curtains that framed your window. 

“You okay?” a soft voice called out through the dimly lit room. Steve. You nodded and he slowly approached you, arms encircling you from behind as you faced the window again.

“It’s nice to see everyone again,” you whispered, not wanting to wake anyone. Steve nodded against you in agreement. “I miss them, but I wouldn’t change anything. I’m still glad that we got out of this town,” your voice was gentle, calming in the quiet of the night.

“Me too, Baby,” Steve agreed, placing a kiss on your cheek. You smiled as he did, eyes flickering out the window to the familiar house next door. Steve’s gaze followed yours, peering out and landing on his own childhood bedroom window. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being on this side of the window,” he chuckled in your ear and you let out a breathy laugh. You turned in his arms, leaning up to place a soft kiss on his lips. He kissed you back, his arms trailing to your lower back as you let out a soft sigh. It felt like the first time. The accumulation of all of your feelings for the brown-haired boy attached to your lips. A throat cleared from the doorway, pulling your attention from Steve as you untangled yourself from his arms.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Lucas stood just outside of your room, feeling very awkward about breaking up your moment with Steve. You moved forward, intending to guide Lucas to the bathroom. You glanced over your shoulder, catching sight of the goofy smirk plastered on Steve’s lips. You mirrored his smile, shaking your head lightly with a giggle as you led Lucas down the hall.