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#steve harrington hc
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king!steve pulling his girl into some quiet room at a party just to kiss her neck and ask her when they can go home, all pouting and begging because he just wants to spend all night kissing and cuddling her but everyone else always thinks its her dragging him home because they miss the grin on his lips when they head out the door <3
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wynnyfryd · 3 days
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oh god oh fuck i’m having new fic ideas that i WILL NOT INDULGE because i have one single molecule of discipline that i am clinging to for dear life but:
Steve actually loves his parents. His dad especially. And everybody’s all:
“What the fuck?”
“But he’s never around.”
“I thought you were pissed at him for something?”
“You called him an asshole all the time,” Nancy adds.
And Steve laughs, “Well, yeah. I mean, he’s totally an asshole, but what does that have to do with anything? You think I’m supposed to talk about sports with all of you?”
“Hey-!”
“Not you, Lucas. Whatever, my dad’s awesome, I love that guy.”
anyway i just need steve to be on good terms with his family and actually have a bunch of family members because they’re catholics. like, steve has a sister in college and a brother who’s working already, and their branch of the family is considered small by the rest. like, eddie attends a reunion once and spends the whole time in a low-grade panic because why are there so many cousins? jesus christ
okay cool and then we know steve can get super high-strung and ridiculous when he gets stressed sooooo: future fic + bridezilla steve. he’d be such a nightmare. like, he was too frugal to hire a wedding coordinator so now he’s running around trying to team captain everybody at the rehearsal dinner and he’s got forty relatives crammed into the back room of a steak house, and everyone’s talking over each other and he can’t even think straight anymore
steve finally snapping in a super loud and bitchy tone, “okay, aunt mary, maybe lets trying speaking one at a TIME” and the whole room goes quiet lmfaooo
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diqldrunks · 3 days
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“every night, i wake up from this one recurring dream” with steve harrington pls!!
-i feel like a best friends to lovers would be good in this setting
- one night they were hanging out and ended up kissing (quite literally a innocent kiss) but they both got “embarrassed” and didn’t speak about to one another for a while
-steve keeps waking up dreaming of that night because he’s in love with his best friend
I hope this makes sense!
INNOCENT KISSES — S. HARRINGTON
celebration post | nav | inbox
main masterlist | steve masterlist
a/n: nonnie i could kiss you this is such an adorable ask!!! sending much love and i hope you enjoy 💗(yes it makes perfect sense!)
cw/tw: PINING. PURE PINING.
*:・゚✧*:・゚
steve harrington was wide awake as he lay in his bed. it was some ridiculous time in the morning — one of those awkward hours between one and four that you dread waking up in.
he just couldn't help it — his brain seemed to be working on overdrive — just unable to shut off. if he wanted to, steve realised, he could blame you as, in a way, you were the reason for his sleepless night but, well, steve could never blame you for anything.
you were his best friend — the 'yin to his yang' as he often joked (not seeing the rising blush on your cheeks that you would hid). the two of you had been attached from the hip since you were kids and that wasn't changing anytime soon — well, if steve hadn't scared you off yesterday — when he kissed you.
he didn't mean to — well, that's not strictly true; he did mean it in the sense that he wanted to kiss you, but he didn't mean to actually go and do it. he wasn't thinking straight that must be it — or was it that he was finally thinking clearly?
and, the thing that was rushing through his mind as a million miles a minute was that you seemed and though you were kissing him back — well, until dustin ended up walking in on you two. he sighed, running a hand through his hair. if only he could see what was going on in your mind.
(if he could, all he would see would be a constant replay of steve kissing you, and you cussing out dustin in your head for interrupting before you could kiss him back)
(for my 150 followers celebration!)
steve taglist; @inkluvs @loveeharrington @if-i-see-you-every-tuesday @spaceagebachelormann @ivyppoison @starstruckwillows @tiny-bird-of-sunshine @masivechaos @iheartmoons @lafleshlumpeater
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thyme-in-a-bubble · 11 months
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tomato faced
a/n: I told you guys I came up with an abundant amount of shy reader smut the other day
warnings: Steve Harrington x shy!reader, smut, fingering, dirty talk
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
masterlist | join my taglist
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Quite literally curled up in his lap, Steve’s fingers were buried so deep within you that the root of his palm nuzzled against the plump of your clit. With your flushed face smooched against the rapid pulse clear on his neck, you felt him chuckle beneath you, “you’re adorable,” not slowing down his digits pace one bit, drawing out even more embarrassingly lewd wet noises with every motion. 
“Stop it,” you whined, not wanting him to tease you any further than the cruel amount he already had been, as you clung to his t-shirt, wrinkling it with your heated grip. 
“No, you are,” he pestered on as your thighs shook, squeezing his strong forearm as he played with your sobbing cunt, “getting all tomato faced on me just because your pussy’s crying out for me. Don’t you hear that?” he purposely angled his fingers, enriching the reverberations of the sloppy result of your desire, “hear how much she wants me, huh? Can’t even imagine what colour you’ll turn once I’m finally balls deep in you… purple maybe?”
“You’re not being funny,” you smiled shyly, thankful that he couldn’t see it. 
“Oh yeah? You sure about that?” his warm laughter vibrated in his chest as he rocked his fingers more vigorously inside of you, making you croak out a needy moan, your face burying even deeper as your limps debated on whether or not they should cling onto him further or if they should just flail around his pistoling pace, “that’s what I thought,” he chuckled, pressing his lips against your hairline as your hands flexed mercilessly against the cotton of his shirt, “you sure you don’t wanna take that pretty little face out of hiding and peek down at how pretty you are for me?” he asked softly through his everlasting teasing air, not giving up as you managed a small shake of your head, “what if we just sit in front of the mirror together, huh? Give you a real good view of what it looks like when I get to stretch you out so fucking perfectly?”
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© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 
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ddejavvu · 5 months
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Steve stumbling over asking you out, so Robin gives him a push to try and get you to closer, to give Steve that extra shove... Except she pushes her bestie a bit too hard, and Steve ends up face first in your titties. Needless to say asking you out is not going as ‘king Steve’ planned. Although Steve and Robin are equally mortified over what just happened
The last thing you're expecting when you hear a half-hearted call of 'Watch out!' is a man's face in your chest. But that's exactly what you get, and it looks like neither he nor the girl who had warned you had expected it either.
"Holy shit!" The girl - you recognize her from band, Robin, you think? - gasps, and you mentally echo her sentiment while the man stumbles backwards trying to regain his balance. The top you're wearing at tonight's party is especially low-cut, and you'd felt every inch of his skin against your flushed chest. He doesn't end up catching his footing, falling backwards onto his ass on the floor instead.
Once you've got a clear look at his face, you process that it's none other than Steve Harrington. You're surprised he's at this party, you've heard they aren't really his thing anymore. He looks entirely defeated, face beet-red and shoulders tense as he peers warily up at you.
"I'm so sorry," Robin gushes, "I pushed him, and- I mean, I didn't mean for him to hit you, 'specially not nose-to-tits!"
Steve groans at her crude wording, "Shut up, Robin."
"I'm sorry," She repeats in earnest, ignoring her friend's pleas, "Um you're not- are you, like, hurt or anything?"
"Yeah, I speared 'em with my nose," Steve snaps, shoving at her thigh where he's slumped beside her legs on the floor, "Just shut up, Robin!"
"It's fine," You put an end to their squabbling, extending a hand towards Steve to help him off of the ground. You're not quite prepared for how bulky he is; perhaps he's still got his basketball physique, and when he takes it like a lifeline to pull himself up, you tip forward on your shaky legs right into his own chest.
You're trying to pull back before you've even made contact with his- shit, his surprisingly firm chest, but you still manage to face-plant slightly. There's a soft noise from Robin, then his hands come up to grab your shoulders and straighten you out.
"Sorry," You flush, mortified, "Uh- I'm a little drunk. Lost my balance, I guess."
"S'fine," Steve murmurs, looking a little bit like he might be sick, which isn't very reassuring. But his hands are still firmly planted on your shoulders, and you swear he's holding you closer than he needs to be.
"Well, now you're even," Robin concludes, slapping each of you on the back so that you jerk towards each other, if only a few measly inches, "I'm going to the bathroom, so if either of you wanna motorboat each other on purpose this time, you're free to do so."
This time, two voices call out, "Shut up, Robin!"
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appocalipse · 9 days
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heyy if ur taking requests could u maybe do like bestfriends steve + reader where steve, eddie, nancy and robin have to pick up reader from a party and she’s like REAL drunk and just idk super clingy w steve and doesn’t wanna not be touching him. maybe eddie, nancy and robin all make fun of him for it but they acc find it rly cute.
thank you for your request! ♥♥♥ | 2.2k words
"Stevie!"
You collide into him suddenly, nearly knocking him back a step or two with the force of your momentum; there's a smile on Steve's face when you look up at him through eyes that are more than a little hazy with inebriation. You're drunk. Probably way past drunk, if the way the world won't seem to hold still is anything to go by, but you don't care. There are other things vying for your attention—like how warm he feels against you, how safe he makes you feel, how pretty he looks from up close...
"Whoa," Steve says as you lean even further into him and loop your arms around his waist in a tight hug. "How much did you have to drink, exactly?"
He doesn't mean it in a mean way, which is why you grin up at him from where you've got your cheek pressed firmly to his chest. You can feel his heart beating under the palm of your hand now, a steady and calming rhythm that soothes something inside of you.
"Dunno," you reply, grinning stupidly when you catch sight of maybe three copies of Eddie Munson standing off to Steve's left; all of them have identical amused looks on their faces. "Might've had, like, a couple..."
Steve sighs deeply, though there's no exasperation or disappointment to be found in his expression when he tilts your face upwards to look you over properly. You just beam dopily at him, because he's so pretty right now you don't know what else to do.
"Dude," Eddie speaks up, drawing Steve's gaze away from you while your own attention goes back to pressing yourself even more snugly into him, "she is totally sloshed."
You frown, shaking your head in fervent disagreement.
"Am not!"
"Sure you aren't, sweetheart," Eddie agrees placidly, but you get the impression he doesn't really mean it.
Before you can point this out, however, the blurry shape of Robin Buckley steps forward. The room is dark with flashing strobe lights and smoky with incense and cigarette smoke, but you'd recognize her voice anywhere.
"Who let you drink this much?" Robin asks as she lifts a hand up to brush some hair back from your forehead.
It's oddly soothing and so you lean into the contact with a happy hum. Robin and the others laugh — but then again, it sounds kinder than mean, the kind of laugh that bubbles up when you find something unexpectedly endearing, and so you don't mind as much as you maybe should.
"Nobody," you mumble as you press your face into the side of Steve's neck and take a deep breath in; his scent is the same as always, earthy and warm with an underlying hint of that stupid spray he likes to use sometimes. "I'm here alone. 'Cause Steve here blew me off for you guys, but that's okay," you say, even though, to be fair, it sort of isn't true — he didn't blow you off.
"Hey," Steve starts, sounding half-indignant and half-apologetic all at once. He's got an arm around your shoulder now, supporting you and keeping you upright, which makes you want to tangle yourself up in him completely. "You didn't tell me you wanted me to come hang out with you tonight!"
You sigh mournfully against his skin, feeling wistful all of a sudden. It's true. You hadn't told him. That was partially due to the fact that you had been trying to prove to yourself that you weren't so desperately and helplessly infatuated with him that you needed his presence constantly, but that plan had obviously backfired on you spectacularly.
"No," you mutter unhappily as Steve moves the two of you towards a nearby couch. "But I missed you. Don't wanna miss you."
Nancy, Robin, and Eddie, who are watching the two of you with expressions of varying degrees of amusement, exchange looks. Steve pretends not to notice, probably because he knows he won't like what they have to say if he hears it, and instead guides you down onto the cushions next to him. "You're drunk."
"You're pretty," you reply without hesitation, even though you're very clearly changing the subject. "It's unfair, y'know?"
You hear Robin snort, followed by a quiet thud like someone's just been slapped on the arm, and you know it's her who laughed, and that it must have been Nancy who'd shut her up. You don't know where Eddie is; you're not even sure when he wandered off, to be honest. You're too focused on Steve and the way his face looks under the colorful flashing lights.
"Oh yeah?" he asks, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too widely at your comment. His eyes are bright with laughter when you meet his gaze and nod confidently. "How do I get 'unfair', exactly?"
"'S all in the face," you say matter-of-factly, your own fingers trailing down his cheek in an almost absentminded gesture. "Kinda makes it hard to think about anything else sometimes, if I'm being real here. Like, it's not really fair, 'cause then what are we supposed to talk about? Oh, oh—and then there's your hair!"
"My hair?"
Robin wheezes somewhere behind you, which would have made you giggle if you were still paying attention to the people in the room besides Steve, but you're not.
"Mmhmm," you hum, your eyes running over the soft brown locks on top of his head. "Love it. Wanna touch it all the time. Y'see, Steve? You see? This is why it's not fair at all. And, and—" you trail off here for dramatic effect, squinting at him theatrically before leaning closer with your hand cupped to the side of your mouth, as if you're about to share something private. "—the way you make my insides feel? So, so unfair. Totally your fault, buddy."
"Wha-" Steve croaks out, looking alarmed and caught off guard by your drunken confession. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh," you regain your serious tone, frowning at him in a somewhat bemused manner when he continues to gape at you. "Not 'sposed to tell you. S'not the rules."
Eddie barks out a laugh somewhere off to your left, but Steve ignores him. "Rules?"
"Yeah, 's against the rules, dummy," you say, like he should've already known that. "Gotta follow the rules! Duh. Steve."
"Yeah, Steve, duh," Robin pipes up, earning herself a glare from Steve as well as a smirk from Eddie. "Oops, sorry. Please, continue."
"Can I touch your hair? Like, please, 'cause I might die if I don't, 'kay? If that's okay. Gotta test the theory. Just a little bit, though." You can tell by his expression that he wants to laugh, and that he's also mildly worried that you've lost your mind. "Please?"
Robin, Eddie and Nancy have their hands clapped over their mouths to contain their laughter. You're too drunk to notice, but Steve narrows his eyes at them in warning. "Yes," he says. "Just—yeah, go ahead."
With a little noise of excitement, you reach out to card your fingers through his hair. He smells really good — like clean laundry and fresh pine trees — and the feel of his hair in your palm is exactly what you had imagined, though you're loathe to pull your hand away now that you've felt it.
Steve goes unnaturally still as you press your face into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, a move he should have expected but didn't, and you sigh happily when the scent of his cologne hits you full force. He's like a living, breathing, cuddly teddy bear, you think, a combination of warmth, softness, and comfort all rolled up in one gorgeous, handsome, unobtainable package.
"You're warm," you mumble, feeling like you could fall asleep right now. "So, so warm. 'S like you've got a space heater in your chest, 'n that's like, so awesome."
He blinks a few times, momentarily speechless as he tries to come to terms with the fact that you are, in fact, drunk enough to be saying whatever the hell comes to your mind. "Uh, thanks?"
"Smell nice too," you murmur, hugging him tighter to you. "Like, wow. Love your hair, like, love love."
His cheeks are burning hot now, his heart beating erratically in his chest when he notices Eddie staring at the two of you with a knowing gleam in his eye. "That's—thank you, but, hey, come on now," Steve says, his voice faltering a little. "Let's get you home, okay?"
"I don't wanna."
"Don't you wanna sleep in your bed?"
You pause, considering his words, and eventually concede that, yes, your bed does sound lovely right about now, so you give him a brief nod in response. "I guess, but can you come too?"
He chokes on air, but manages to play it off by clearing his throat. "What—to your bed? No!"
"Why not?"
Steve shifts a little under your intense, alcohol-addled scrutiny; he feels strangely guilty, as though he's letting you down by saying no. "Because you're drunk?" he says, feeling flustered and unreasonably nervous all of a sudden.
You scrunch up your face in a pout. "Oh, that's a dumb reason."
Steve chuckles and you sigh happily again, because you love his laugh and everything else about him, and he seems to realize this, given the way his expression softens. "Come on, you drunkard. Let's go home," he says gently, tugging on your arm in an attempt to get you to stand.
You resist at first, shaking your head stubbornly as you hold onto him. "Can't. My legs don't work anymore. They're all wobbly."
Steve closes his eyes for a moment, huffs out a soft laugh, and you can't help but grin up at him. He's so pretty that, like, how is that even allowed? How can you be around him and not spontaneously combust or something?
"Well, what if I carried you?"
"Like a princess?"
Steve looks at you with an expression you can't decipher — it's halfway between incredulous and endeared, and it makes your heart feel too big for your rib cage.
"How romantic," Nancy observes.
"So long as she doesn't throw up on him," Eddie adds, nodding sagely in agreement.
"Oh, I hope she does," Robin says, with a devious smile, "he'd deserve it for being such a coward."
"I'm...right here, guys, and I can still hear you." Steve finally says, throwing them a scathing look that only makes them laugh. "If you're not going to be helpful, you can wait in the car."
"As if," Eddie counters.
Steve opens his mouth to tell him where exactly he can stick his opinions, when you grab the front of his shirt and drag him closer.
"Steve," you say, the smile falling from your face as a sudden thought occurs to you. "Are you mad at me? Because I can go home by myself. That's okay."
"Hey, no," he replies softly, "I'm not mad at you, sweetheart. Not ever."
"'Sweetheart'? Really?" Eddie mutters to Nancy, who elbows him in the ribs when he doesn't lower his voice in time. "Ow, okay, okay—just saying. Don't want them to keep dancing around each other forever, is all."
"I'm not dancing," you tell him, completely unaware of Eddie's snickering, "I don't have any shoes on, Eddie. Wouldn't be able to dance without shoes on. Silly."
"My bad," Eddie says, his lips twitching with badly concealed laughter, "forgive me."
Steve scowls at him before turning his attention back to you, his face so close to yours that you can momentarily feel the tickle of his breath against your skin. "Okay, come on," he says, "up we go."
And then, in one swift movement, he slides his arm under your knees and scoops you up into his arms. You let out a squeak of surprise and automatically wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself.
"Oh, oh, oh," you say excitedly, "you really are gonna carry me."
"Told you so." Steve adjusts his grip on you and makes his way towards the exit. "Are you good? Am I hurting you?"
You shake your head slowly, grinning as you stare at him from a whole new angle. "No," you tell him, feeling much more awake than you were moments before. "This is...this is like, actually kinda cool."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," you repeat, smiling shyly back at him. "Feel like a real life Cinderella now. Whoa, you're, like, super strong."
"Yeah, Stevie, you're 'super strong.'" Eddie teases, waggling his eyebrows when Steve sends him a quick glare. "Aw, don't look at me like that. It's cute. The two of you."
Nancy doesn't tease like Robin and Eddie do. She walks behind Steve, making sure to stay a couple steps behind to give the two of you some privacy. Even so, when you look over your shoulder to make sure nobody's listening, she gives you a wink and a small thumbs-up that makes you smile.
The parking lot is filled with teenagers all wandering aimlessly in groups, so it takes Steve a while to navigate his way through the crowd. By the time he finds the spot where he parked his BMW, you've grown drowsy enough to rest your head on his shoulder.
Eddie immediately pops open the door to the backseat, slapping it a few times as he looks over at Steve and grins. "Hurry it up, lover boy," he drawls out, "she looks half-asleep already."
"She's fine," Steve shoots back, frowning in annoyance when Eddie and Robin both pretend to yawn exaggeratedly, "shut up. I hate you guys."
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madelynraemunson · 6 days
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 (𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲) 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞 ✨ — a steve harrington one shot fic
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modern!sperm donor!steve x modern!pregnant!fem!reader
Summary: It’s hard to find ‘forever’ in a world that glorifies hook-up culture. After multiple failed relationships, you start to believe that your dream of having a family someday will only be just that — a DREAM. That is until you stumble across The Baby Gate Foundation, a family planning organization that helps qualifying Strangers start families with one another.
disclaimers — fluff overload, strangers to friends to lovers, some angst, reader goes by “Honey”,
NSFW — very brief smut, p in v sex (unprotected), breeding kink, cream pie, soft!dom steve
word count — 6.0k words
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“So… what’s your favorite color?”
It’s the most aggravating question to ask when wading in the Dating Pool — and unfortunately the most frequent. But you figure at least asking about Steve Harrington’s favorite color is a good ‘precursor question’ when trying to get to know him. After all, you are the one carrying his child.
“Cerulean,” the handsome stranger from across the table replies.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a type of blue.”
“You could’ve just said blue.”
“What’s the fun in that?”
You issue him a touché type nod as you gently place your folded hands over your growing bump…a bump that was a byproduct of an ordeal that he wasn’t even present to participate in.
Before you knew him as Steve Harrington, he was just Stranger #021 whose sperm donation gave you the gift of life. The gift of having a little one of your own.
And it was about time you started a family. It has been a dream of yours — once you bagged your dream job and got to travel the world — to get married and have kids. But apparently the person you spent 6 years with did not share that dream, despite having told you he did in the beginning stages of your partnership.
Are you crazy? How dare you think your ex wanted a family after he explicitly told you he wanted you to marry him and have his kids? Silly lady. You actually thought he meant what he said.
And Steve Harrington’s baby daddy application seemed impossible to resist. The Baby Gate Foundation disclosed to you that Stranger #021 has no physical ailments, was a star athlete in high school, isn’t a carrier for any chronic illnesses, and passed a mental health and drug clearance.
Your baby is very likely to come out healthy and, now that you’ve gotten a good general idea of the guy, will hopefully inherit Steve’s luscious chestnut brown hair, his radiant smile, sparkling eyes, and kind nature. A healthy baby. A healthy family. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.
“Your stomach feeling okay?” Steve inquires.
“Yeah,” you smile. “I just like touching it sometimes. It still doesn’t feel real.”
When selected, Steve jumped for joy. And you bet he started doing cartwheels when your pregnancy test came out positive. My dick still works! he remembers saying.
Having been a foster parent to many teenagers in the past, Steve also felt ready to have a kid of his own. But then his first long term girlfriend of three years cheated on him, and then his next long term girlfriend left him when she realized a family with him was not what she wanted. Steve was practically on the same boat as you. And the stars aligned…
“So I was thinking…when you’re in what’s considered a ‘safe’ point in your pregnancy, say second trimester… we can do cute pregnancy announcements,” Steve suggests.
Your eyes glimmer at the thought.
“As coparents of course!” Steve makes sure to add. “A-and then we can have a gender reveal. We can choose the theme and ideas for it later but I’m just thinking of an intimate cake cutting thing….pink frosting, obviously for girl…”
“And cerulean for boy,” you smirk at him, finishing his thought.
He chuckles at your comment. “Yes, cerulean for boy.”
You two then begin to brainstorm the minor details. Signing up for parenting classes. Check-up appointments. Your baby registry. Ironing out the details so that you both can relish in the pregnancy as much as possible.
When you’re done, Steve then pays for your lunch and you two go separate ways. But not before a long, grateful hug.
“Thank you,” you whisper into his ear. “You’ve made my dream come true.”
“I am just as indebted,” Steve insists, giving your back a loving rub. “I’ve always wanted to be a father.”
You decide to not let go until Steve breaks the hug. But little did you know that was Steve’s plan too. So you both stand there, in the middle of the mall food court swaying back and forth, waiting patiently for the other to let go because to be honest, you never know what a simple ‘I see you’ hug can do for somebody.
Finally, Steve pulls away.
“Listen, uh, Honey,” he says. “I hope this doesn’t sound weird because technically we don’t really know each other…but I already care about you so deeply. You’re the mother of my child. I want to be as involved as possible.”
“I care about you too Steve,” you beam at him. “And I feel like our healing journeys are coming to an end. I’m so excited to come together with another person who has the same goals in life.”
And that is all that’s said during that exchange. You hope that throughout your pregnancy, you and Steve can have more coparent dates to really get to know each other. You love that he feels safe and trustworthy, willing to put his all into the child that he, and many many medical experts helped you create. And you hope that as your baby grows up, you will find a lifelong partner like Steve someday.
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“So how’d it go?”
You’re over at your best friend, Eddie’s apartment talking to him about your day. Eddie has been your best friend since middle school, bearing witness to every wonderful milestone — and tragedy — that has plagued your life ever since. Your decision to become a mother on your own, and coparenting with a stranger is no exception.
“I like him!” you exclaim. “He’s very sweet.”
“Do you trust him as your Baby Daddy?”
“If I didn’t, it’d be a little too late for that I’m afraid.”
Eddie would’ve been more than happy to be your donor, and without a doubt, you’d trust him in being fully present in the child’s life. However Eddie comes from a home with a turbulent family dynamic, and unfortunately is a carrier of the addiction gene along with many other illnesses. Eddie didn’t want to risk doing that to you or your family. So it works out that he and his boyfriend Henry are the ‘Fun Uncles’ or as he calls them “Funcles” instead, and Steve is the dad.
“But yeah I like Steve,” you circle back. “He’s funny, sweet, looks like he takes care of himself. Even paid for my food. Oh, and as a bonus, he uses big words.”
Eddie snorts as he strides over to the fridge. “He uses big words.”
“Yeah, like cerulean.”
Your bestie cocks an eyebrow and smirks at you. “What’s that?”
“It’s a type of blue,” you smirk back at him.
He releases a theatrical gasp. “Ground-breaking.”
Your banter is cut short when Eddie’s partner Henry walks through the door.
“Hello, hello.”
“Hey, Henry!”
You watch as the quiet, tall blonde dressed in dark-denim-tailored-to-fit struts in with a grocery bag, closing the door behind him with his foot.
“Hi, darlings.”
“Funcle Number Two,” Eddie greets his partner.
“I thought I was Number One.”
“You are,” Eddie shrugs. “In my heart. If you have an issue with your title and rank, I’d talk it up with Honey.”
“You can be Number One,” you grant him permission, eliciting a betrayed gasp from Eddie.
“Thank you, Honey,” Henry smirks, shooting a sassy look at Eddie.
Eddie issues a sour variation of that smirk to Henry, only to be met with a rough nudge to the ribcage. The two black cats then assemble to unload the groceries, all while focusing their attention back to you, their appointed ‘golden retriever’ of the bunch.
“Speaking of titles,” Henry adds. “How was your meeting with Daddy Steve?”
“It was wonderful,” you respond. “Was just telling Eddie how much I like him.”
Henry grimaces, understandably so. Your taste and judgment in men throughout the years have been nothing short of concerning. But because you didn’t willingly seek Steve out on a shady online dating app, at a dive bar at 2 AM, or on the dance floor of a sweaty small town nightclub, you figured you were in the clear.
“We’re gonna make it work no matter what,” you insist to your seemingly doubtful friends. “Even if there are discrepancies, we agreed it’s our kid before anything. And I’m ready. I told you guys myself that if I don't meet the love of my life by the time I'm 29, I'm having a baby by myself."
Aside from the two "Funcles", you have been the only consistent person in your life. And in this day and age, two people don't need to 'be together' to bring life into this world. And even if they are together, it’s not a happy home sometimes.
All that matters in this arrangement is that both of Baby Harrington’s parents are involved. That was Steve's promise to you.
Let's just hope he keeps it.
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“That’s the head… and those…are your baby’s feet.”
You and Steve watch the monitor in awe as the sonographer scans your belly. You are now 20 weeks along, and doing a routine ultrasound check up.
First trimester was a nightmare. Constant nausea and vomiting so you’re not even sure that you’re stomaching those pre-natals, intense mood swings, and breast tenderness so bad you essentially begged Steve to just chop your tits off.
Regardless, you are healthy, and the baby is healthy. And now your camera roll is filled with pictures and videos of every frame of every ultrasound you get done, as well as audio recordings of Baby Harrington’s heartbeat. You and Steve even share your content amongst each other, just in case the other missed something that the other captured. It’s a wholesome exchange, really.
“Baby’s kicking a lot. Almost looks like they’re swimming in place,” the tech comments.
“I did swim and water polo in high school, could be why,” Steve explains.
You bat your eyes in adoration at your friend. He gives you a warm look back.
“Just like Daddy,” you say. And then Steve rests his palm atop your hand.
For the first time in a long time, everything feels complete.
“So, would you like to know the gender?” the sonographer inquires.
Immediately you and Steve bombard her with anxious-filled “No no no no”s. You decided to go with the cake gender reveal idea, and Henry and Eddie were in charge of having it made.
“We’d like for it to be a surprise,” Steve smiles. “But we sure would like an envelope with the gender in it. Honey’s gonna give it to her friends to give the baker.”
“Sounds like a plan to me!” the tech grins widely. “I will have it printed out for you shortly.”
She wipes your belly down so that there is no more ultrasound jelly on your stomach before leaving. Meanwhile, you and Steve are absolutely giddy. You are now halfway through your pregnancy and couldn’t wait to hold Baby Harrington in your arms.
But as exciting as everything is, it is also anxiety-inducing. No parenting book could ever prepare you for bringing a kid into the world. There was so much more that needed to be done. So much to do. And it seems like there was so very little time to do it.
Steve has another question for you. “When does the baby usually wake you up?”
“Baby’s a night owl, strangely,” you reply. “I’ll feel some moving and stuff at night.”
Steve sighs and shakes his head in thought.
“Man, I hope kid doesn’t wake you up at night too much when they’re born. That’d be god awful.”
“I know, I’ve been thinking of that too,” you groan. “And all the diaper changes I’ll probably have to do before putting them back to sleep. Ugh, I don’t even wanna think about diapers.”
You didn’t want to think about post-partum shit. So far, you’ve only been focused on pregnancy shit, and that shit is already overwhelming. While you seem well-equipped for pregnancy itself, the thought of actually being a fully-functioning parenting unit alongside Steve brings on a new set of fear.
Suddenly you and Steve look up at each other.
“Oh shit!” you shriek. “A crib! We need a crib! A stroller.”
“And a whole nursery,” he gulps. “And a baby monitor… A swaddle! A carrier!”
———
You and Steve are moved in together by the end of the month. Platonically, of course. With a capital P.
You both figured that raising the baby under one roof would be the healthiest way to approach your parenting situation. Both of you already get along really well and have similar communication styles. You two also have the same expectations from each other. And not every child is blessed with two parents living together in a happy home. It’s a luxury you both refused to take for granted.
So eventually the non-traditional-housewarming-slash-baby-shower-party rolls around, in efforts to help prepare for Baby Harrington’s arrival. It ends up being a huge success. Additionally, the party gave everyone a chance to mingle with one another, your friends meeting Steve’s friends and jokingly calling each other "in-laws". Robin and Eddie immediately grow very fond of each other, having deemed each other best friends after their third time meeting.
“How long do you give it?” Robin asks Eddie as they watch you and Steve work together to build the crib. “You know till they…”
They observe as you and Steve bicker back and forth about whether or not a section of the crib was installed the wrong way. You argue that it was, and Steve, still firm in his masculinity that he felt like was slowly chipping away (he can’t help it sometimes) insisted that it wasn’t.
“I know how to read, Honey. And besides, if it’s the wrong part, how did I screw it on perfectly?”
“I don’t know, Bob the Builder,” you fire back at him. “You didn’t have to 'screw it on perfectly' to get me pregnant.”
“Til that baby is born,” Eddie estimates.
Eddie chuckles at this. He’s been with Henry for many years, but you two have beat him at the argue-like-a-married couple thing. Slyly, he sips his beer.
“…The very latest.”
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“Steve, I’m hungry. Wanna go to Rally’s?”
The cravings have officially kicked in (finally). But of course, it’s at the least convenient of times.
“Woman, it is 1 in the morning...”
“Yes, and I want Rally’s.”
You give Steve a light thunk on his fluffy head.
Now that you two live together, sleeping in the same bed was bound to happen eventually. But it is the least of your concerns. In a world where people go ‘ghost’ after getting what they want, laying your head down in the same bed as Steve is the farthest thing from intimacy. You’re also afraid of the dark, and being in his light calms your nerves.
Except for tonight. Where the only thing that’ll calm those nerves is a Wild West burger and some fries.
Steve huffs, clearly too tired to argue with your hungry ass. But also, you’re the mother of his child. You have the hardest job, and having a late night snack when you felt like it is the bare minimum of what you deserve.
“Let’s go.”
You smirk to yourself as you dance your way out of bed. Anything Baby Mama wants, Baby Mama gets.
Rally’s sure did the trick. When you and Steve return, you find yourself skipping back to the bedroom while Harrington fights to urge to plop onto the floor right by the entry way, his body’s natural response to a food coma, and the state of lethargy he was in from being stirred awake.
But as much as he valued his beauty sleep, he knows deep down he’d still do it again for you. Your little food dance was also pretty damn cute, anyways.
———
THE NEXT WEEK
You and Steve have been ordering way too much takeout. So tonight you decide to surprise him with a home-cooked meal. So while he’s at work, you’re searching Pinterest for healthy, savory dishes to cook. Chinese food it is. One can never go wrong with some chicken fried rice.
Steve comes home right when you finish.
“Oh my god,” Steve gawks as he enters the kitchen. “What smells so damn good?”
“I made dinner,” you smile gleefully, and with pride. “I have so much energy second trimester it’s insane. Hope you like Chinese.”
Steve slows down. Glancing around the chaotic kitchen, he takes in the array of sauces, the cutting board, and the multiple plates and bowls that most likely harbored the. Then he looks at you — a sweaty mess with stains on her apron from all the rice tossing. And he can tell, by your slightly labored breathing, that you’re gathering up all the energy you possibly can to powerwash all the dishes.
“You…made this for me?”
“Yeah! For us, actually. And the baby. I hope you’re okay with onions and scallions.”
“Y-yeah, I’m fine with those,” he insists. “It’s just that…I have a date tonight.”
Suddenly the pots and pans feel so much heavier. The air, hotter. The onions, stronger judging by how tears start pooling at the base of your eyes. At least you want to blame it on those.
“Oh,” you sniff.
“I’m so sorry, Honey. I should’ve told you so you didn’t have to go out of your way.”
“It’s fine.”
Why do you feel this way? It’s not like you two are together anyway. This pregnancy is a partnership… platonic with a capital P. So why are you upset? And more importantly, why are you jealous?
“I-I’m sorry…” Steve panics. “I-it’s just that we’ve been getting takeout all week and I thought it’d be the same toni-”
“It’s okay, Steve.”
“That came out so bad, I…”
“I know what you mean,” you shake your head shutting him down immediately. “Have fun tonight, okay?”
“You’re crying…”
“I was chopping onions,” you point out.
You nod to the bag of onions that were yet to be put away. There was a lot left to be put away actually, and you were kind of hoping Steve would help. But clearly he’s a busy man.
“And it’s probably just the stupid pregnancy hormones too,” you add.
“They’re NOT stupid,” Steve insists. “And you just said you have so much energy. You were bursting with light just a moment ago…before I killed it.”
“Have fun tonight, Steve,” you repeat.
You head over to the wok and scoop out a serving for two: one serving for you, and one for the baby. Dad will get the leftovers, you suppose.
Steve watches you intently. You can feel his stare even with your back turned. Suddenly, you hear the faint dial tone of his cell phone ringing a couple of times before someone answers.
“Hey…Lacey, I can’t come tonight,” Steve sighs. “I’m really sorry for being so last minute. A family emergency came up.”
You look back over at him. He makes sure to look you in the eyes as he says ‘family’.
The two of them talk some more before Steve hangs up the phone. Awkwardly now, you chew softly at the rice you made.
“Well she definitely hates me,” Steve chuckles. “But I don’t care.”
“Steve…” you speak. “You didn’t have to.”
“You’re carrying my kid,” Steve looks at you with glimmering eyes. “I can’t be running through the town in the arms of another woman. This pregnancy is a team effort.”
He glides over you and stops right where your hips meet. You timidly manage to look up at him, tear-jerked, all sweaty, and very very pregnant. And after Steve tucks a loose strand of hair behind the blushing cartilage of your ear, he presses his tender lips against your forehead.
“For the baby,” he whispers to you.
“For the baby,” you repeat after him.
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The day is here.
The gender reveal, that is. You didn’t expect finding out something as simple as having a boy or girl was going to be this nerve wracking. And to think some people do this in front of a huge audience.
“Okay…” you exhale unevenly. “You ready?”
“Only if you are,” Steve nods, but his trembling hands betray him.
“Hand me a glass.”
Steve hands you one of the two wine glasses you brought for the intimate picnic you had planned for today. On the count of three, you two were to dig those very glasses into the cake and scoop out the long awaited answer.
SWEET CHILD O MINE, the cake reads. Boy or girl?
Henry and Eddie settled for a Rock-N-Roll inspired cake, with self-indulgent black and red buttercream on the outside, and the pre-determined blue or pink on the inside. You were afraid that it was going to be a little too edgy for Steve, but he assures you the aesthetic of a cake is the least of his priorities.
Drawing out an uneven breath now, you decide to start counting down.
“One…” you gulp.
“Two…” Steve joins in.
But you can't bring yourself to say ‘three’. Shutting your eyes closed in a bout of nervousness, you mutter softly,
"Two and a half..."
It earns you a chuckle from Steve. Knowing just how to calm you down, like he had been doing all pregnancy, he offers you his available hand to squeeze if you needed.
“Three!” you two finally say together.
Plunging your wine glasses into the cake, you and Steve gather one big scoop each while your eyes drift elsewhere.
“I can’t look,” you choke, sniffing back a tear or two.
“I can’t either,” Steve exhales, evidently nervous. “You can look first though.”
“No, I’ll look when you do.”
You’re met with messy dough and frosting in the glass at first. But after trailing after the inside part of the cake, you catch sight of the fluffy frosting that was buried beneath. A bright, eye-catching, pastel....
...cerulean blue. A baby boy.
“Oh…my…god,” your hand trembles in complete shock. “It’s a boy…”
“Oh my god, baby!” Steve sniffs going in to hug you. “We’re having a boy…”
And then it happens. Unable to contain himself from his joy any longer, Steve cups your face with his frosting-laced fingers, connecting his lips passionately to yours, and you with him.
It’s the best day of Steve’s life. You are the reason that he gets to live out his dream of becoming a dad. And now that you two are having a son, all he can imagine is teaching the kid how to throw a football in the backyard, signing him up for T-Ball and Boy Scouts (just like his dad once did with him), and taking him and his buddies out on silly, fun-filled rag-tag group adventures.
And knowing how strange and daunting the world can be, Steve already maps out how to raise your child morally, encouraging him to always treat others with kindness, to be a friend to all, to always lend a helping hand whenever the situation calls on it. And to respect women…because after all, everybody came from one. And Steve knows that he struck gold, considering the fact that he views you as an absolute queen.
You kiss King Steve back, humming in awe because of how natural his energy feels against yours.
It all feels very natural. Makes you feel like you’ve known him your entire life.
Your eyes widen in shock as you two look at each other, both stunned that a kiss was both of your initial, seemingly ‘platonic’, response to the news.
"Is it just me or is it just now hitting?" Steve questions. "We're having a kid together."
"It's just now hitting me too," you agree, the double meaning tugging aggressively at your heartstrings. "We're really doing this, Stevie."
“Our son.”
“Our son.”
———
“What happens when one of us finds somebody?”
It’s a talk you and Steve were due for eventually. But Steve is just as unsure, looking over at your pregnant silhouette standing at the foot of the doorway.
But with how beautiful you looked standing at the doorway, your silk, maternity night gown hugging all the beautiful curves of your body while you rubbed your belly that housed your very active kicker, Steve wasn’t even sure if he’d ever want to find somebody else.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he ends up saying.
He makes his way over to you, wrapping his gentle arms around your waistline, emitting his ever-growing love for you and the baby you two share.
“But if one thing's for sure, it's our son. Baby Harrington first. Before anything.”
“Baby before anything," you repeat the promise.
Steve’s lips graze your skin once again, an invitation and incentive to join him in bed — nuzzled up in the sheets and his warmth — so the two of you can soak in all the rest you possibly can before Baby Boy makes his entrance into the world.
Some bridges aren’t meant for crossing. Sometimes settling is the best option. And you don’t mind settling down. Because here, in Steve’s arms, it feels like home.
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WEEK 38
An involuntary rush in your lower extremity stirs you awake. When you feel around to push the sheets aside and hobble to the bathroom, you’re stunned to discover your nightgown had become a raft, and that you’re laying atop your own unscented secretions. And you know it’s not piss. So if you didn’t pee…
Oh no, it’s happening.
You begin to panic.
“Steve!” you hiss, sitting up and pushing your partner awake. “HEY! Harrington!”
“Huh?” Steve mumbles, still half asleep.
“Get the hospital bag.”
“What?”
“Get the hospital bag, dingus. My water just broke.”
He shoots up. Still relatively disoriented, but now also horrified.
“W-what? Are you sure?! Does this… A-are you about to…”
“Yes! Grab the bag and start the car. He’s coming RIGHT NOW.”
While you slowly sit up to get your shoes and a robe on, Steve scurries to the car with your overnight L&D bag and purse in his arms. You reach over to grab your phone and charger, dialing up Eddie in the process.
It rings for a long time before he picks up.
“Honey, it’s 4 AM, what do you want?” Eddie grumbles.
“It’s time, Eds,” you sniff happily. “The baby is coming.”
The line is silent for a couple seconds, and for a while it’s like you can hear Eddie connecting the dots in his head. Alas, he speaks.
“HO-LY SHIT!”
*Click*. The line disconnects.
Steve holds your hand through it all. From checking into Labor and Delivery, to moving to your room, to breathing exercises with your bedside doula, check-ins with your midwife, and throughout the entire birthing process.
Not only is he nervous out of his mind, but he thinks you’re so beautiful.
"You know," Steve says in attempts to soothe you. "When I came out the womb, the nurse yelled "Oh my gosh! That's a lot of hair on a baby!"
You're too fixated on your breathing exercises to fully appreciate Steve's story. But you understand his sweet gesture, so you stroke his thumb with your thumb to let him know you're listening.
“I guess I had double the amount of hair than a usual newborn,” he continues. “And all the nurses were crowding around to get a good— OW OW OW! Watch the hand, watch the hand.”
The sudden level 9 contraction that shot through your entire stomach, causing you to scream in agony and beg for the epidural.
"JESUS, FUCK GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME!" you plead desperately.
Steve kisses you softly on the forehead before going in to stroke your, very sweaty, hair. He was not going to leave your side. Not now, not ever. This baby — and you — are the best things to ever happen to him.
Thanks to yours and Steve's mindful prep, the birthing process was a smooth one compared to others.
But still pretty painful, nonetheless. For you, for Steve, for everybody involved.
"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," Eddie sputters as he and Henry rush onto the unit with the baby's carseat and other miscellaneous belongings in their hands. "It's happening, it's happening. He's almost here!"
"I wonder," Henry pants, doing his best to keep up with his boyfriend. "If she experienced the Ring of Fire yet."
"What's the Ring of Fire?" Eddie questions him.
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" your tumultuous screams sound down the hall directly from your room. Anyone would've thought someone was getting murdered in there, had it not been a hospital unit strictly for childbirth.
"That," Henry answers him.
---
"You're almost there, baby," Steve encourages you. "Keep pushing."
The epidural had finally kicked in and now all you had to focus on was pushing.
“I see the head, Mama,” your midwife announces, rubbing your knee as you’re struggling to push. “Keep going, keep going! Couple more for me.”
“FUCK!” you cry out doing your best to contract those muscles.
“There we go…” Steve soothes you as he strokes your hair. “Doing AMAZING, baby. That’s it…”
He strokes your thumb with his, a helpless look in his eyes as he watches you struggle. It’s clear that Steve doesn’t know what else he could possibly do for you, but he attempts to mask that belief. He couldn’t wait to spoil you afterwards. It’s what you deserve.
“Few more pushes, Honey,” your nurse says again. “He’s almost out. We got his shoulders now.”
“Oh god I’m gonna faint,” Steve says, evidently growing dizzy.
“Can someone get a wet towel for Dad?!” another nurse calls out. “And maybe some juice?”
“PUSH, PUSH!”
“PUSH, Honey!”
“ALMOST THERE, MAMA!”
“I can’t,” you cry out. “I can’t anymore.”
“You can do it, baby,” Steve encourages you, pelting the back of your hand with endearing kisses. “You’re doing such a good job, I’m so proud of you…”
Before you know it, the air of the hospital room fills with tiny belted cries, followed by relieved and adorn coos as the nurse catches your baby.
“0507, time of birth!"
“Oh my god,” Steve wails in excitement. “Oh my god, he’s here he’s out. We have a baby! You did it, Honey!”
Too exhausted to say anything you simply fall back, taking a few deep breaths in relief. It’s over, the baby is here. And he is healthy.
You feel a sloppy kiss land on your cheek. Steve ruffles your hair when you look his way.
“You did it, Honey.”
Everything happens so fast after that.
From what you hear, Steve was the one who cut the umbilical cord — and he was very adamant about having the pictures to prove it. The baby was then weighed and bathed, all the hospital data was gathered with permission granted by Steve.
And soon, after an eternity, your son is swaddled and soon returned back to you and ‘Dad’.
"Oh wow!" a nurse remarks. "This baby has a whole lotta hair!"
You and Steve immediately look to each other and burst out laughing. Just like his Daddy...
———
“How does that feel, Steve?” you ask him, eyes fixated on the absolute DILF in front of you.
“Amazing,” he coos. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
When all needs were attended to, it was finally time for ‘skin to skin’. You didn’t think it’d be possible to be both sexy and wholesome at the same time — until you saw Steve cradling your newborn, pressing him tenderly against his exposed chest so that their hearts can beat as one.
“Hi little man,” he sniffs. “I’m your daddy.”
A single tear falls from his face and splashes onto the blanket that your son was cocooned in. Steve pulls him in closer and kisses him softly on the forehead.
“I’m your daddy,” he repeats.
It’s everything he’s ever wanted. Steve’s legacy is about to begin and it’s all thanks to you. And from your hospital bed as you recover, you are able to snap some pictures of the two loves of your life, the first photos of many, of the family photo albums.
“Ugh, when did Steve get so hairy?” Lucas wonders as he sneaks a gaze into the hospital room.
“Right?” Dustin agrees, joining him beside the doorway. “I told him he needs to tame that jungle but he claims the ladies dig it.”
“I mean, look at Honey,” Lucas points out. She seems to like it and Steve knocked her up.”
“True but it wasn’t organic, you idiot,” Max mutters.
Love pours in from every wing of the unit. Soon all your family and friends start to arrive, as well as Steve’s family and friends. You’re spoiled with ‘congratulations’ signs, and postpartum care packages, and an array of foods that you couldn’t eat while pregnant (i.e. sushi, deli sandwiches).
And with your approval, Steve comes out of the hospital room, ready — and proud — to showcase your baby to the entire world.
“Everyone, there’s someone we’d like for you to meet,” Steve says, keeping his voice at a low murmur. “This is Benjamin Dean Harrington. Benny for short.”
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You and Steve end up taking parental leave at the same time.
Your entire day-to-day consists of loving on and spending quality time with Benny. The diaper changes, the cuddles, the nursery rhymes, and everything in between. It’s impossible to think you’ll ever get tired of it. You and Steve have officially transitioned to Mom & Dad Mode.
Until Benny goes to sleep.
As the golden sun peaks in through the cream colored blinds, you feel Steve’s hand trail down your back and down to your ass to grab it. Releasing a soft moan, you lean into his touch, shifting your weight to one side of the mattress.
“Baby…” he moans into you.
“Should we?” your eyes twinkle. “The baby’s asleep…”
He chuckles into your neck, raspy voice sure to be the end of you if he kept teasing you any longer.
“‘m scared I’ll hurt you.”
“I’ll let you know,” you barter. “I feel ready.”
———
“Fuck, right there, Steve…”
You grip the sheets tightly as Steve rolls his hips into you, his strokes a delicious mix of pleasure and a challenging stretch. And as you bite into your pillow, your eyes rolling up towards the sky, he maintains the pace you love so much, drilling you in, simultaneously massaging your clit while his quenched lips tenderly suction themselves to the crook of you neck.
It’s your first time together, but it feels like you two have done this before. Your bodies are naturally in sync, knowing where your boundaries lie without needing any cues, and knowing exactly how far you both can take it. Daddy Steve, being the gentleman he is, has your entire body mapped out.
“God I love it,” your overstimulated self whimpers, chest to your chin, ankles dangling off of Steve’s broad shoulders as he rails you.
“Oh, I bet you do, Honey.”
His large hand encloses around your neck, thumb hovering over your lips as he fawns over your mewling, vulnerable body.
“You want my cum, baby?” Steve asks. “Want me to fill you to the brim huh? You wanna have my babies?”
“Yes, I want your babies, Steve,” you moan. “Want all of them.”
And as an orgasm spills out of you, Steve’s spills in, coating you with his warm release as you both unravel in the sheets.
“Holy shit, that felt so good,” you whisper, nuzzling your head against his chest. Steve grins from ear to ear when you kiss him on the chin. “Thank you for making me feel so safe and loved.”
“Well when you’re you Honey, you make it so easy,” he blushes.
Steve rests his hands on your ass again, giving it a faint smack. You bite your lip as he pulls you even closer to him. And as the sun sets, you know round two is on the horizon.
“Anyways, when ARE we having another one?”
———
author’s note: i’m noticing some themes with the way i write eddie smut vs steve smut. i totally write eddie as a rough dom and steve is def a soft dom. not complaining tho, those are my headcannons for them 🤭
divider creds: @silkholland , @elfbar-baby
616 notes · View notes
ssweetleaf · 26 days
Text
pretty.
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step-daddy!steve harrington x step-daughter!reader
summary: your step daddy finds you fast asleep, but can’t seem to shift the thought of filling you— of ruining your chances of being with any other boy that wasn’t him.
includes: SMUT 18+, dub-con, inappropriate relationship, age-gap, somno, fingering, daddy kink, allusions to unprotected p in v
˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗
Peeking through the crack in your door, Steve watched your sweet form, sleeping soundly, sprawled out on your front on your pretty pink duvet— soft little snores escaped your lips, occasionally shifting in your sleep, the irresistible globes of your ass visible with the way your nightgown rode upwards.
His beautiful girl, so worn out and soft, he could already feel his cock hardening from the mere thought of why you were so sleepy— little flashbacks of earlier on littered his brain, his nimble fingers inside your panties, playing idly with your clit.
“It hurts, daddy! Need your help.” You had whined, nudging your nose against his cheek and tugging at his arm, so glad he had come back from work early just to see his best girl.
So, he had helped you, stopped your poor little clit from hurting and made you cum, spasming around nothing and moaning out a constant mantra of daddydaddydaddy.
But now it was his turn, he thought, pushing his door open and letting himself inside your cute little space.
He just couldn’t help himself, for a while it had just been foreplay, letting you practice sucking his cock and having him circle your pretty clit once he was finished, but it was time for something different.
His greedy cock was bored of your mouth, no matter how warm and slick it was, he needed something tighter, something spongy and gummy for him to piston into. And that something was your sweet little cunt— just the mere thought of it fluttering around his length, barely being able to take even half of it, it had him pulling a lip between his teeth to stifle a groan.
So there you lay, his dearest, darling girl, back arched so prettily, your cotton panties wedged between the fat of both ass cheeks, and he made sure to get a closer look— the outline of your puffy pussy lips was sheer through the fabric, pulled taut, a little wet spot covering the space where your hole would be.
You were always so wet for him, whether you liked it or not.
Steve reached out a hand, fingertips tracing the length of your slit from over your panties, watching with a lift of his lip at the way your hips wiggled at his touch— even in your sleep you were drawn to your daddy, leaning into his touch in dream state, you were probably dreaming of him anyway. Dreaming of him defiling you.
His lips quirked at the sweet sound of a whine escaping your lips, mindlessly trying to squeeze your thighs together and lodging his hand even closer towards your pussy in the process.
He managed to hook his intrusive fingers underneath the elastic of your panties, shuffling the crotch to the side and letting the pads of his fingers really feel. Your wetness coated his skin immediately, saturating his flesh just like you saturated your poor panties, your sweet arousal dripping in surges from your untouched hole.
He had to adjust himself at the feeling, palming his crotch and pulling at the fabric of his slacks that suddenly became a little too tight.
“Such a dirty girl,” he huffed out, his unoccupied hand pulling your thighs apart as best as he could to get a closer look. “always such a greedy girl, thinking about your daddy all the time, hm, honey?”
He smirked— if you were awake he was sure you’d give him one of your little scoldings of daddy, you can’t say stuff like that, your cheeks would heat up and you’d refuse to make eye contact, but being sound asleep you just took what he gave, and that included his crude little utterings.
Slowly, he circled a finger around your opening, prodding at it teasingly, letting all your arousal to soak his digit before slipping it inside. You sucked him up immediately, walls contracting around the intrusion and you moaned against the pillow, still sleeping soundly.
Stevie had always wondered how tight you were, an untouched little dove like you he couldn’t even begin to comprehend it— but now, with his finger shoved inside, curling up into your special spot, he could barely find a thought, especially with the immense throbbing of his cock.
Once he slipped a second finger inside you, in attempt to stretch you out a little more, you stirred, eyes fluttering open, entirely confused before turning to see the sweet presence of your daddy.
You gave him a dumb little smile, unaware of what was going on until you realised how full you were, how good it felt.
“D-daddy—” you gasped, leaning on your elbows, cheeks heating at how embarrassed you were, just letting him fill you with his fingers while you were sound asleep.
“Shh,” he cooed, stroking your hair with the hand that wasn’t inside you, grazing your cheek with his knuckle to have you settle down. “were practically begging for it, honey— like a little bunny in heat.”
You whined at his words, backing up into his touch and clenching around him.
“S’good daddy’s here, hm?” He spoke, “poor little pussy would be lost without me, wouldn’t she?”
So filthy, you thought, your ears not entirely used to such crude speech coming from your stepfather, but you couldn’t deny how needy it made you feel, you could feel your slick slipping down your thighs and onto your sheets.
Your daddy pulled his fingers away from you, your pussy clenching around nothing, and you whined from the loss, oh how empty you felt. You didn’t like it, you wanted to be stuffed full for as long as you could take.
“No,” you whined, sniffling, your eyes glistening with tears and you wiggled your ass back into him, urging him to give you more. “Want more, daddy— feels s’good.”
“I’ll give you more, hon,” he hummed, pressing his palm to the back of your head and pushing it down, letting your face squish against the pillows. He fiddled with his belt, pulling it loose and lowering his fly, pulling the pretty length of his cock from his briefs.
He was practically leaking, the thick veins that littered his cock throbbed and surged with hotness, so eager to be inside his most precious girl, to feel her heat and fill her to the brim.
The mere thought of his hot cum filling her insides, shooting into her tummy, it had his knees buckling, mind reeling from how lucky he felt.
He was so glad he had such an obedient, needy girl like you.
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bcyhoods · 1 month
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hi! can I please request the prompt “caressing the other's cheek softly, hoping to wake them up that way” with steve and shy!reader? maybe it’s their first time waking up together and he’s just so in love?
thank you for the req nonnieeee <333 need him in my bed immediately, thanks! | 0.5k gn!reader
Steve can’t seem to put his finger on it.
Maybe you were born with some sort of super power. Like you’re able to induce serenity with just a touch of your fingertips, a timid press of your lips to his cheek. Or it could be something spiritual. Something about your souls being intertwined due to something living in the stars or the color of your aura or something.
He doesn’t really know. Waking up to you in his bed for the first time makes his brain all fuzzy.
The sun spills in through his blinds and covers every inch of your exposed skin in golden warmth. Your hair is wild, splayed out over his pillowcase — which he’s sure now smells like your shampoo. You’d slowly inched apart from each other during the night, but your hand still rests over his torso, accidentally bunching up the material of his shirt around your fingertips. The longer he lets himself look at you, the harder his heart thrashes around in his chest.
He doesn’t really want to wake you, but he so desperately wants to talk to you. With a tentative hand, he trails up your arm to cup your jaw. His thumb gently passes back and forth over the swell of your cheekbone, reveling in the softness of your skin. A blithe grin hijacks his mouth once he sees you beginning to stir.
“Hmm.” Your hand is gone from his torso to grasp onto his own hand, still just barely caressing your face. You blink a few times, adjusting to the brightness filtering in when you see his face. Warmth settles on his freckled cheeks and paints his skin pink, and it only gets deeper when you give him your own sleepy smile. “Morning.”
“Good morning,” he answers, voice raspy and deep.
He’s looking at you like he can find an answer in your eyes. You might have the entire universe hiding in your pupils. Definitely something akin to stardust shines in them, he swears.
His attention makes you feel lightheaded and your skin burns beneath his touch. You squeeze at his fingers and pucker your lips to fruitlessly keep your nerves at bay, but it produces a kind of upside-down grin that makes him beam and chuckle. You giggle and ask, “What are you doing?”
“Nothin’. Just wanna look at you.”
“Ugh,” you groan and roll your eyes, but the wide smile on your face reveals your secret. Steve Harrington makes your stomach flutter and makes your heart beat so erratically that you can feel it thump and shake against every inch of your body. That’s why you’re quick to shield your face with your hands, muffling your nervous giggles in your palms.
“Oh, stop.” Peeling your hands away from your face, he brings them up to his lips and kisses your knuckles, unceremoniously. The smacking sounds make you laugh, and when he notices, he makes sure to kiss them louder. He stops the assault on your hands to cup them together and press them against his chest.
His heart beats as quickly as yours does.
“I liked sleeping with you,” you tell him with a gummy smile like it was confidential.
“Yeah?”
You’re immediately recognizing the double entendre, but he’s too lovesick to notice. You consume his every thought, it’s impossible to get his mind working accurately. So instead of teasing you, he whispers
“I liked sleeping with you, too, honey.”
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ghostlyfleur · 4 months
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steve harrington is a touchy person, especially with his girl.
with his girl, it dials up to eleven. you’re his love and his peace, he needs to be in contact with you at all times, it might even come across as needy or clingy to others, but you don’t mind. not at all. in fact, you love it. for once in your life, there’s another person in your day to day life that you want to touch, to show affection to, cover them in kisses and cuddles and call them cute pet names. you’ll get up from the couch where you’re cuddling with your stevie after giving him a peck — he always insists on parting kisses even if you’re just going to the kitchen to get a glass of water for you two — and maybe you get momentarily distracted by looking for a snack, but it’s enough to get your sweet boy a little whiny, “come back already, honey. what’s taking you so long? i can barely breathe here, sweet girl. c’mere, i miss you. baaaby, c’mere, come back to me!” and he won’t stop begging you to come back to him until you’re rushing over, ready to press kisses all over his face and bury yourself in his warm embrace, water sloshing and spilling from the cup, but neither of you care.
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OH what if you did something with grumpy!steve with sunshine!reader? Like they both like each other but she does something sweet for him that makes him melt!
Steve was having a horrible day. And by horrible, he meant it was like any other day. Keith had left a mountain of things to do, and he had to work the opening shift alone. Which meant he was starving and bored out of his mind.
He’s grateful when the bell rings for any sort of distraction, even if it comes in the form of your skipping, smiley-ness. You looked extra pretty today, in a cute sundress and a matching tote bag that you probably crocheted yourself. He wonders if you’ve ever considered crocheting something for him.
“Hi Steve!” You practically hop to the counter, leaning over it enough to taint the air of your strawberry perfume. He tries not to inhale too obviously.
“Hi.” He can’t help but feel less miserable in your presence, even if he is tired and hungry. His mouth waters just thinking of the burger he’ll pick up on his way home. Or atleast, that’s what he tells himself to explain the excess saliva in his mouth.
“Opening shift by yourself?” You ask knowingly.
“Yep. Keith just loves seeing me suffer.” He cracks a smile at your giggles. You always found a way to cheer him up, even without realizing it.
“Well, I’m here to end at least part of your suffering.” You pull a paper bag from your tote and he already smell the food inside. You slide it over the counter and he tries not to look too eager as he peaks inside. At this point, any food will do.
“It’s a ham and cheese sandwich. And some chips. And a juice box. And a brownie.” You smile sheepishly and he swears he could kiss you right there. He wants to dig in immediately but he manages some restraint.
He tries to pretend his heart isn’t beating out of his chest.
“My favourite. You remembered.”
“Of course I remembered. You remember everything about everyone. It’s the least I can do.” You’ve gone shy now and it makes him smile.
“You’re too sweet to me.” He tries to deflect but she only leans in closer.
“You deserve it.” She presses a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling away. She takes a step away, probably to leave but he catches her hand.
“Do you wanna…watch a movie later?” The words tumble out of his mouth before he can overthink them, but it’s worth the smile he recieves.
“Sure. My place at 7?”
“I’ll see you there.”
He waits until she’s gone to celebrate.
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steve playing it off when he walks into the counter and catches his hip, when he trips over a chair leg, when he drops his keys because he can't stop spinning them around his finger until he meets you, because the second he walks into the edge of the table for the third time that day you're asking him if he's okay, you lift his shirt and run your hands over his skin, making sure he won't bruise, you put every chair back so he doesn't have to worry, his hand eye coordination isn't the best so tucking chairs away to keep him from tripping is nothing to you, you tell him how cute he looks when he spins his keys, how sweet the little run to his car is so he can open your door for you, you make not only better for him but you make him feel okay for being a little clumsy at times, in fact he really doesn't mind catching his hand in the door because now he has you to kiss it better <3
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wynnyfryd · 24 days
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mama’s boy Steve Harrington singing along to his mom’s 50s doo-wop while she was getting ready. making up little dance routines and using her hairbrush as a microphone
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huntingingoodwill · 10 months
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honey, honey (s.h.)
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masterlist
pairing: family video! steve harrington x f! music store! reader
desc: after eddie drags steve into the music store across from family video, steve finds himself with a huge crush on the girl who works there, a crush that turns him into a mumbling, blushing mess. they bond over steve's love for abba (well, he doesn't love abba. but for her, he might!) ( also reader calls steve steven it's all very that 70s show jackie and hyde <3 )
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“Stevie has a crush!” Eddie sang, voice doused in a sickly sweet lilt. The declaration rang through Family Video, announcing Steve’s infatuation to the dwindling midday crowd. 
“I do not.” Steve hissed, the burn that began to blossom in his cheeks contradicting his words. 
“You totally do.” Robin called out, her voice flat and matter-of-fact in between the clacking of tapes as she restocked the shelves.
Eddie arched his dark brows in a smug look, boots knocking against the counter as he sat atop it, swinging his legs. Steve frowned, drumming his fingers against the cash register. 
Steve’s eyes, the brown hues of his irises honeyed in the sunlight, wandered toward the window. He looked toward the music store adjacent to Family Video, eyes cruising past the crush of band posters plastered against the glass to search for you. 
You seemed to glow, and he envied the sunlight that touched your skin. He watched you tinker with a cassette tape behind the counter, winding the unspooled mass of tape with a pencil. He felt the dip of longing in his stomach. 
Suddenly, you turned toward his direction, and it took everything within him not to duck behind the counter and hide. 
Instead, he turned back toward the store in an attempt to act like he wasn’t looking, only to be met with the unamused countenance of a customer who had been trying and failing to catch his attention. 
“Cup or cone?” Steve blurted, eyes widening as he realised his mistake. “Sorry,” he mumbled, taking the tape from the disgruntled customer’s hand, “Force of habit.” he explained. 
Eddie and Robin dissolved into laughter as soon as the door closed behind the customer. 
“Admit it! You’re, like, totally obsessed.” Robin snorted. 
He was a little obsessed. 
He hadn’t even taken notice of you before Eddie had dragged him into the record store the week before. Now, you were all that was on his mind. 
He was reluctant to give up his lunch break to help Eddie scour the store for a record he didn’t even care about. But as soon as he saw you, it all changed. His brash protests against Eddie dragging him into the store diminished, and he became completely quiet, lingering behind Eddie as a debilitating shyness seemed to rip the ability of speech from his voice, reducing him into a blushing mess. 
“Hurry, Munson,” you had tapped your finger against the corkboard that was tacked up against the wall. A polaroid of Eddie, his tongue sticking out in defiance, was posted beneath a crudely scribbled “BANNED 4 LIFE” sign. “My boss will kill me if he finds out I let you in here again.” 
“I got caught using the five finger discount a few too many times.” Eddie paired his explanation to Steve with a completely unapologetic grin. “This is Steve, by the way. Works over at Family Video.” Eddie jutted his chin toward Steve. “And Steve, this is… well, you can read.” 
Steve hadn’t stopped thinking of your name since, the fading, scratched letters that were etched onto your employee badge now engrained onto his mind. He hadn’t stopped thinking of the way you smiled at him, even when he couldn’t find the courage to say a proper hello. He hadn’t stopped thinking of the way you laughed, even as you chased Eddie out from behind the counter when he tried to switch out the record you were playing for one of his own favourites. 
“You’re going over there.” Now, Eddie leapt off the counter, snapping Steve out of the memory he was indulging in, boots thudding against linoleum as his ring-clad hands grasped onto Steve’s shoulders, dragging him toward the door. 
“What? Wait, no, Rob? Rob?!” Steve’s sneakers squeaked in protest as he attempted to dig them into the floor, Eddie mustering a surprising strength as he shoved him out the door. 
“Good luck, Harrington.” Robin’s indifferent voice was punctuated by the ring of the bell hanging over the door as it swung shut.
“Eddie, lay off! I’m not going in there.” Steve exclaimed, shrugging Eddie off of him just as the latter was about to shove him through the door to the music store. The low hum of the music playing within the store buzzed in Steve’s ears, the song pounding to the rhythm of his anxious heartbeat. 
Eddie’s flat, open palm met Steve’s cheek, the cold sting of his rings biting the side of Steve’s jaw. 
“Snap out of it!” Eddie exclaimed, hands latching onto the broad expanse of Steve’s shoulders as he shook him. 
“Dude.” Steve said, kneading the freckled skin of his cheek, the dull buzz of the slap already subsiding. 
“Okay. Sorry. Too much.” Eddie conceded, giving Steve a light tap on the cheek. “But come on. You’re Steve Harrington. Certified loverboy-” 
“Don’t call me that.” 
“Certified.” Eddie emphasised, jabbing a thick finger into the hardness of Steve’s sternum. “Turn on the charm. You like her? Get in there and talk to her! You can do this!” Eddie grit his teeth, a veil of determination falling over his expression. 
“I… can do this.” Steve said, voice faltering with uncertainty. 
“Let me hear you say it. You can do this!” 
“I can do this!” Steve exclaimed, the blaze of determination flaring in his chest. He turned to open the door, pausing for a moment before turning back to Eddie. “How do I look? My hair okay?” 
“Beautiful.” Eddie grinned. “Go get her, champ!” He called out, flinging the door open and shoving him into the store before he could change his mind. 
Steve stumbled through the door, the resolve he had just moments ago draining out of his body as soon as he saw you. 
He summoned all the strength in his body to will himself to approach the first shelf he saw, immediately flicking through the records in order to appear occupied. Like he knew what he was doing, and that his heart was not going to leap out of his throat at any moment. 
Having rushed toward the closest possible shelf, he was in the “A” section, hands roving over ABBA records over and over again for an unreasonably long time as he stole the occasional glance at you. His eyes tilted upward once more, trying to catch another look at you, but he realised you weren’t in his line of sight anymore. 
“Can I help you with anything?” Your voice, a lilting, lovely thing, made him nearly jump out of his skin. You were standing beside him, the proximity making him heady. 
“Um, I was just checking you out- I mean, I want you to check me out, I mean-” He tried to steady his breath, hoping it’d control his faltering tongue. “Can you please help me check this out?” His fingers plucked at whatever record was closest to him, handing it to you. 
“ABBA!” You amiled, gazing upon the glossy cover. “You like ‘em?” 
“Love ‘em.” A nervous laugh bubbled from his lips. “Who doesn’t?” 
He knew nothing about ABBA. Now he’d have to actually listen to them. 
“You’re Steven, right? Eddie’s friend.” The buttons of the register clicked as your fingers tapped against them, ringing him up. 
You remembered his name. He didn’t even bother to correct you, to tell you that his parents were the only people who ever called him Steven, and that was only when they were pissed at him. None of that mattered. You remembered his name.
“Yeah.” He mumbled, hardly able to form the syllable through the aching smile that began to grow on his face. 
“I should head over to Family Video sometime. Maybe you could give me a recommendation.” You smiled, handing the record over to him. “See you ‘round, Steven.” 
He practically floated out of the store. 
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“Thanks, come again.” Steve muttered to the customer, sliding her receipt over the counter. 
His eyes wandered toward the window again, something he found himself doing more often than ever, hoping to get a glimpse of you. It was embarrassing, how often he did that, how he practically almost died when you caught his eye and waved at him. 
His fingers skimmed the countertop absent-mindedly as he gazed out the window, the kick of his heartbeat quickening in pace as he saw you walk out onto the sidewalk, arms crossed as your eyes followed the delivery van that cruised up to your storefront. The deliveryman placed two weighty new crates of records onto the concrete with a dull thud as you signed the clipboard he handed you. 
Your shoulders heaved as you sighed, bending down and attempting to lug the heavy crates into the store. 
Ever the gentleman, Steve was out of Family Video in a flash, ditching all responsibility to head out and help you.
“You need help?” He called out, not even waiting for a response before striding up to the crates, the muscles of his tan arms taut as he lifted them for you. 
“Thank you so much. The other guy on shift was supposed to help, but he just had to have a smoke break.” You said, rolling your eyes. 
You held the door open for him, and he placed the crates on the countertop with a thump. 
“Thanks, Steven.” You smiled, and it was enough to root him into place. He was lost in a daze, dizzy with the idea that that smile of yours was for him. He felt gooey inside, like he was due to melt right there, reduced to a puddle on the floor of the music store. 
You glanced toward Family Video, and he missed your smile as soon as the edges of your lips downturned. 
“I think you have to get back there.” You said. 
He followed your gaze, watching as a line of confused customers line up at Family Video, waiting for assistance.
“Shit.” He gathered his composure, rushing toward the door. 
“Oh! Wait!” You reached into your pocket, producing a cassette tape, the shrinkwrap taut around its shiny exterior. 
“I kept this for you. You like ABBA, right? It’s new. Latest cassette shipment.” You grinned, handing him the tape. 
He ran his thumb over it, heart pounding in his chest. He was lost for words, the ability to speak having completely left him as his cheeks tinged pink, heat burning in his collar. 
“It’s on the house. Just don’t tell my boss, alright?” You smiled. 
He was in so much trouble.
If he wasn’t in love with you before, he was now.
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spectrum-spectre · 6 months
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hc that Eddie has the highest-pitch little kitten sneeze of all time. he HATES it, says it "ruins his image." he thinks it's SOOOOO embarrassing, and Steve thinks it is the CUTEST thing on the PLANET
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ddejavvu · 2 months
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Steve Harrington getting you a stuffed toy just as a present, because he is a gentleman and a good boy and is really in love with you. But then as he comes to just hang out with you at yours, he accidentally spots you on top of his plush toy he got you, and sees you riding it. And his poor jaw nearly drops off his face
this post is 18+, minors dni.
listen that dude stuck the stuffed animal in his car. his car that smells overwhelmingly of his cologne. He sat that thing on the back seat and it was over for you, the fur of the stuffed animal smells like him forever. the thing is, it's a big stuffed animal. like he barely fit it in the backseat of his car. so when you cuddle up to it at night and try sleeping, you're inhaling his scent while simultaneously being pressed up against this massive figure. it.. does not take you long to figure out how to proceed.
and you feel dirty, grinding on this stuffed animal, but if you close your eyes and inhale it smells just like steve, and you find that the fur of the stuffed animal comes in handy for muffling your moans.
it just so happens that your moans can't be completely silenced, so when steve treks up the stairs to your bedroom and you're too engrossed in chasing your orgasm that you don't hear him, he walks into your room and hears exactly what you're trying to keep quiet.
he sees your hips rutting desperately against the giant stuffed animal, your panties soaked with a wet spot from the slick you've smothered the fabric in. You're burying your face desperately against the stuffed animal, just the way you do against steve's chest, and he's all-too-familiar with the moans that are steadily flowing from your slick, parted lips.
"Steve, Stevie-nngh! Ah, Steve," You pant, hips bucking relentlessly, but in vain, against the disappointingly soft stuffed animal. You're in search of friction, but you can't seem to find it against the stuffed softness of the toy.
Really, steve thinks he'd be cruel not to help you out. He moves swiftly, throwing a knee up onto your bed and lining his hips up behind you, a steady bulge growing in his pants from the long while he'd spent watching you without your knowledge. His weight crushes you and he lets it, barely holding any of it with his own arms. His nose hits the back of your neck and he inhales just as you'd done with the stuffed animal, smelling your perfume and sweat alike.
You scream when you feel his hands take hold of your hips but when you register that it's your boyfriend, your terror turns to shame.
"Steve," You cry, still crushed beneath his weight, "I- I'm sorry, I-"
"Don't be sorry," He speaks lowly, grunting slightly as he experimentally humps the friction of his jeans over your ass, rubbing tantalizingly close to your sensitive, aching cunt, "Put your head down again, baby. It'll keep you quiet."
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