A Steve who cannot buy his boyfriend Eddie's movie tickets all time, take him out to bi weekly dinners, or even publicly win him a teddy bear at the fair is a Steve who pivots, and starts making trips the the closest hobby store.
The bigger one, that sells more than just a handful of D&D manuals.
The guys who hang around there are initially confused--the sports guy who should clearly be buying sports cards is instead coming in once a month to load up on everything from fantasy books to new dice. Clearly he has to be a nerd in disguise.
Yet when one brave soul casually asked what his preferred game was he said basketball, like a total normie.
Finally after a full year of this, the guy opens the door to the shop, but for once doesn't step in. Instead, Eddie steps through and gasps, before spinning and loudly accusing Steve of hiding the store from him.
"It's not my fault you refuse to drive this far out." Steve fires right back but there's a smile on his face, and the stores entire crew watch in awe as Steve follows Eddie around.
Steve is always careful in Hawkins, when it comes to not acting like they're in a relationship but its hard in the moment, and he's not as careful as he should be.
Eddie brings an entire armload of things to the front of the store and Steve insists on paying because;
"It's your birthday man, I'm not gonna make you pay for your own presents."
They leave, the two of them practically floating, leaving behind a bewildered group of people who immediately start arguing whether or not they heard the weird sporty guy call the metalhead "baby."
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Hey noodle! Congrats babe, you deserve it ☺️ what are your thots on “just a little more” and our messy boy Steven Grant? 😈
Hi Mona!!! omg thank you sm!!! and thank you for requesting!!! and for steven?? PRECIOUS HUSBAND STEVEN??? how could i refuse ESPECIALLY because i know this boy is filthyyy and fucking needy as all hell okay ilysm thank you again!!
Tags: Steven Grant x Reader, afab!fem!reader, fingerfucking (r!recieving), unprotected piv, riding, uhh squirting pls dont fucking look at me i am ashamed, overstimulation, light degradation, so much praise holy shit (w/c: 1.1K)
Prompt: "Just a little more."
It’s honestly not that Steven likes to edge himself, or has some kind of fucking superhuman stamina in bed with you.
No, you’ve sucked him off in five minutes flat before, Steven twitching beneath you while he whined, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, fuck it’s so good, you’re so fucking perfect, shit-” while he spilled down your throat. Marc never let him live that one down.
But you swear that sometimes, when he’s got his face or fingers or cock buried deep, so deep inside your cunt, Steven forgets that he has to cum at all.
He gets lost in it, mumbling about how gorgeous you are, how wet you get for him, how good you taste. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve cum, how you cry and wail with every orgasm he wrenches out of your heaving body, he just wants more and more and more. Ravenous.
“Steven, please, I ca-I can’t, oh please-” your pussy makes noises that are utterly obscene, squishing against his hand as he works his fingers into you, jamming relentlessly against your g-spot. You aren’t even sure what you’re begging for at this point; for him to make you cum again, for him to fuck you like you’ve been begging for, for him to show some mercy.
But even then, it’s like he can’t hear you, eyes focused on the way you spread and leak over his fingers, mesmerized by the way you clench around his fingers. He’s been like this since the first orgasm of the night, maybe the second, but God, he just keeps going. He keeps pressing soft kisses to your trembling thighs, using his free arm to brace over your twitching hips while he plays relentlessly with your aching cunt.
It’s too much, he’s been at this for too fucking long, God, you’re leaking everywhere, the bedsheets damp with it. He just won’t let up, your beautiful, treacherous lover, and your whole body locks again with the force of your orgasm, the squeeze of your pussy nearly forcing his fingers out.
His gaze snaps up to your face in an instant, and you can hear his voice through the rush of blood in your ears, murmuring, “That’s it, darling, my God you’re beautiful, so pretty, this pussy’s so tight for my fingers, imagine how it’ll feel around my cock, yeah? How much I’ll stretch this gorgeous cunt apart, right love?”
And it’s so sweet, so gentle, the way he speaks to you, a complete contrast to how he rips you apart with orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.
“Fuck me,” you whine, high-pitched and needy, absolutely desperate. “You- you said it, that your cock would feel so fucking good, please Steven, need-need you.”
But all Steven does is chuckle darkly, stretching his fingers out inside you again, and you nearly scream. “Just a little more, darling, one more time for me, yeah?” You can only clench your eyes shut and throw your head back into the pillows.
And when you finally wear him down enough to ease his sticky fingers out of you, you immediately roll him onto his back. If he’s going to fuck you, you’re going to be in charge. You’re going to be the one to make him cum.
You ease his cock into you, hot and throbbing in your hand, and you almost want to cry as he stretches your pussy so good, so perfect, just like he said he would. He moans beneath you, the sound ripping its way out of his chest, as if he’s suddenly realized how worked up he’s gotten himself by playing with your pussy for God knows how long.
You work your hips into his, plunging his cock into you just the way you know he likes. He nudges into your sweet spot just perfectly this way too, and the sensitivity from Steven’s earlier ministrations has lighting arcing up your spine with every nudge, every grind of his cock into your sensitive pussy.
A mewl escapes you, unabashed and louder than you meant it to, when you slam down on his cock just right, the hair just above the base of his cock pressed against your achy clit. Steven’s hands fly to your hips immediately, holding you there with an iron grip.
That look is in his eyes again, pupils blown wide and brows furrowed as he rakes his gaze over your quaking body. He punches his hips up, making his hair grind against your clit in a way that makes your head spin, his fat cock somehow reaching deeper into your pussy.
“That’s it, love,” he says, “let me make you feel good. Let me take care of you, fuck, you look so pretty like this, writhing on my cock like a desperate little whore.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head with his words, your hips working of their own volition, on pure instinct as you work his cock into you again and again and again. It’s like you can’t get him deep enough, bouncing on his cock just like he told you to. Making yourself feel good.
When you cum, Steven groans, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips hard enough to leave bruises in their wake as you clamp down on his cock. A shaky moan rattles out of your throat at the feeling, your body aching with exhaustion, your pussy too sensitive as you clench and pulse in his hands. You feel like you could shake apart with the force of it, wrung dry under his unrelenting touch.
“Look at that,” he murmurs, and you open your eyes to see his gaze trained on your pussy, and oh shit, his stomach shines with your wetness, the sheets soaked with it. You’ve never done that before, never-
“Fuck, you made me squirt, oh my God, Steven-” your body burns with embarrassment, and you start to pull off his cock in search of a towel, or something, anything to clean up the mess you’ve made of him. But his hands hold you firm in his lap, using an unseen strength that he keeps under his button-downs and jumpers, his biceps flexing in a way that makes saliva pool in your mouth.
“Don’t you dare, darling,” his voice is a rasp, all dark and ripped apart and feral. Fuck, if it weren’t for the accent, you’d think it was Jake. “One more time, sweetheart, just one more for me.”
“Steven,” you start, but he thrusts his hips up into yours, and the movement of his still-hard cock in your sloppy, sticky cunt makes you choke on your spit.
“Just a little more, sweet girl, just-” he thrusts into you, hard and unyielding, “one more for me.”
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I don’t think the Watcher TV move is being made out of greed. They have high production costs, and artists do deserve to be paid for their work. I do, however, think it is a monumentally stupid decision.
First of all, who in their right minds thinks the best way to announce a paywall is a hyped up countdown to a “big surprise”? They literally set themselves up with that.
Second, this is not sustainable. People have been comparing it to other creator-run streaming services like Dropout or Nebula, but those services have bigger audiences, bigger casts, and way more frequent uploads. In Dropout’s case, its more than three times the content (at least) for the same price.
I’m not gonna argue about how it sucks for people who can’t afford it. Unfortunately “artists deserve to be paid” and “everyone deserves art to bring them joy” are both contradictory but true. I will however point out that the majority of Watchers’ audience is young or lower-income. Pricing has to be decided with your target audience in mind.
This didn’t happen because Watcher got insanely evil and greedy, and its true that artists deserve to be paid.
But this was an objectively bad decision no matter where you stand. If Watcher doesn’t change course I will not be surprised to hear them declare bankruptcy in a year or two.
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