#steve harrington's dad sucks

[badpancakelol]

Hello! I just finished the first two of your time loop fics and I think it has done permanent damage to me! Great job, it was like the best thing I’ve read in years!! I will probably think about it for years! Seriously, so goddam good!!

I will now tell you about my fan theories/ask some questions!! In case you decide to publish this, this is a warning for others that after this point there is spoilers, mentions of death and suicide!

So, Steve doesn’t remember his deaths prior to this time loop but based on the mementos, he has died before. Is this because he brain hid them to protect him or did he die a bunch of times this time loop before he realized it? So what he thought was the first time was actually like the 20th? This has been fucking me up

Next thing: when I read the first fic and Steve pulled hoppers gun and just shot himself with no hesitation I was shocked and was like god that would be horrifying to see. Then I read the second fic and YOU MADE ME SEE IT FUCK seriously, so well done!!

I loved how Eddie gave Steve his vest every time! That was such a good detail??? And when they died together??? I sobbed, man

Also when Robin noticed the bullet scar on Steve’s head? Ouch ouch ouch

Also also robin having held Steve’s hand as he drowned multiple times? Horrifying!!! But also so sweet! I feel so bad for Steve that everyone remembers

And now for my head cannon: the reason that Steve’s dad came home is that he had a upsettingly vivid nightmare about killing Steve when he broke that plate. He got freaked out so he had to come home and make sure Steve was actually not buried in the backyard.

This is all that I can write out rn, my brain is in shock and I need to contemplate life now! Again, great job!! You… killed… it!! A+++++

oh my god i just read this and??? it is currently 1am where i am and i am not coherent enough to reply to this properly but i love everything that you said and it warmed my heart SO MUCH TY TY TY <333

re: steve remembering his deaths/the loops: he very much does not have a proper grasp on time at the beginning/when things start to look too similar to him. so when there are only minor changes to the timeline (say,,, in the original timeline he spilt a cup of water onto his floorboards, leading to him slipping and dying. he might get the slight feeling that he should move his cup of water, and do so, but not know why) he remains unaware of the loop, despite having died before

that's just a really long way to say: steve is entirely unreliable in his recounts of his own life! there is no original timeline, anymore!

I WAS SO EXCITED FOR THE HOPPER'S GUN SCENE FOR THE SEQUEL SO I KNEW I HAD TO HAVE IT AS THE FIRST CHAPTER!! IM SO SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT <3333

the vest!!! and robin holding steve's hand!!!! i wanted some things to really bleed through each loop and reality -- even though these people don't really know what's happening, and won't ever know the full extent of what truly did happen, there are constants. there are things that are so crucial to them as people, core parts of themselves showing in actions and words and reactions to the most horrible things, that just stay. no matter what happens

i love that headcanon of steve's dad!!!

anwyay!!! ty ty so much for messaging me!!!! i hope this made any sort of sensee lol :)

[hairmetal666]

Steve wins the bat plush at a fair when he's seven. He doesn't care about bats, but it's the prize for making all five baskets in the basketball game, so he gets the little bat. Its eyes are a little crooked and one wing is slightly smaller than the other, but it being lopsided sort of makes it cuter.

He and his dad, they're supposed to be going on rides now, but his dad's pager keeps going off. He puts Steve next to a funnel cake stand, tells him not to move, and goes in search of a pay phone. Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve is bored under the flashing lights and tinkling music. He wants to play not sit and wait.

Eventually, he drifts back towards the midway, watches the people rushing by, searches for a sign of his dad's return. His attention is caught by another boy at the basketball booth. He has to be about Steve's age, with a mop of dark curls on top of his head and a jean jacket that's slightly too big, sleeves flopping over his hands as he lines up his shots.

This boy, he's terrible at basketball. Every shot is too high or too short or goes wide, but he's trying. Even from this distance, Steve can see how hard he's trying. He uses up his five balls, fishes into his jacket pocket for more money, and gets five more.

He misses every shot. This time, when he goes back for more money, he comes up empty. Steve thinks he sees his lip shaking.

A man, one in a leather jacket and boots that Steve thinks look mean, comes up to the boy, drops a heavy hand on his shoulder. He's too far away to hear the conversation, assumes the boy asks to play again and the man's response is a shaken head and a tight smile. They walk away from the games, right towards Steve, who slinks back to the side of the midway, not wanting to be caught staring.

"What was it you wanted? That stupid bat? Just another piece of trash you wanna bring in my house." Steve hears as they pass.

The boy nods, but keeps his eyes down and to the side.

He feels bad then. Felt bad before, but now he looks at his own bat, at its funny eyes and poorly attached wings, and wishes he could hand it over to the boy who really wants it. Steve almost does, then, makes to go after them, but his dad appears, dropping a hand to Steve's shoulder and saying, "ready to hit those rides?" And he knows the opportunity is gone, knows his dad will say it's too soft, not what men do.

Steve manages to lose himself for a while in the swirling lights and funhouse music and carnival rides, forget about the little bat in his back pocket and the boy who wanted one so desperately. But then his dad's pager goes off some more, he goes back to the pay phone, and Steve ducks into the low brick building that houses the bathrooms.

His eyes immediately land on the same boy from the basketball game. His eyes are red, face damp, obviously from tears, and Steve just--

"Here." He shoves the bat into the boy's chest.

For a second, the brownest eyes Steve's ever seen widen at him, before narrowing in a harsh glare, the boy's teeth barred.

"Why?" He snarls.

Steve thinks he may regret every choice that led him to this but he says, he says, "Because I want you to have it."

The boy blinks a few times, hand reaching out to gently pinch the bat's smallest wing. "You sure?"

Steve nods and the bat is slowly withdrawn from his grasp.

"No takesies-backsies?"

"It's yours."

The boy looks at the bat in awe, and Steve says, "see? It already looks happier with you."

The boy's beaming smile is cut-off by a voice calling from the door, "you in there,? I ain't got time to be waiting for your boohooing."

"Coming!" The boy carefully tucks the bat into an inner pocket of his jacket. "Thank you," he whispers, eyes big and glistening and happy, before he disappears out the door.

---

13 years later, give or take a few months, and Steve stands in the cracked shell of a bisected trailer, rummaging through what remains of a life well-lived, searching for anything whole. He's already found a few undamaged mugs and clean hats, but this room--it took a lot of damage. The brunt of it, really. Some sick sort of joke, after everything.

It's mostly rubble in here, scraps of fabric; slivers of notebook paper, magazine, poster; crumbled shards of vinyl and cassette plastic. A few times he comes across the disembodied limb of one of those dnd figures, and something weird happens to his throat.

In the far corner there's half of a dresser collapsed into itself, and he shuffles through the debris to see what he can find. There's something, soft and black, just the edge of it, peaking out from under half of a drawer face. He pulls it out, careful as can be and it's--it's a plush bat. It's a little dirty, but unharmed, though its eyes are a little wonky, and one wing is smaller than the other.

He holds it and he stares and he has to brace himself against the wall. It can't be--it's not the same one--but he remembers those big brown eyes and the curls and--

"Harrington," a warm, rich voice calls from what's left of the hallway. "You get lost in there?"

Eddie shuffles in, slow, careful with his crutches. And it--it took so long, months and months of convalesce and physical therapy, still physical therapy, but he's here. He's alive. He's perfect. And the something blooming between them, it's not spoken yet, but it's there, growing, and now, now--

"Oh my god, you found Lilith! I thought she was toast."

"Lilith?" He's still cradling the little lopsided bat in his hands, but moves closer to hand it over to Eddie.

"Yes, Lilith." Eddie takes the bat, presses it to his chest. "The first boy I ever loved gave her to me."

His heart turns over in his chest and when he swallows his throat clicks. Eddie doesn't notice, he's smiling softly at the bat, at Lilith, but then, "why are you looking at me like that?"

"First boy you ever loved?" He says. He thinks he sounds normal.

Somehow, Eddie's smile grows even softer. "Yeah. Roan County Fair, years ago. Tried to win her, but--" he clicks his tongue--"never had great hand-eye coordination. And then this kid just gave her to me out of nowhere. I used to think I was going to marry him."

"And now?"

Eddie laughs. "I grew up, Steve."

And for a second, he doesn't know what to say, but then, "I was right then, huh? That she'd be happier with you."

He stares at Steve, those same big brown eyes, wide and glistening. "Steve that was--Steve?" Eddie presses a hand over his mouth, overcome, before launching himself into Steve's arms. The crutches clatter to the floor, but Steve has him, will always have him, no matter what.

"I can't believe you kept her," Steve whispers.

"God, I carry her everywhere. She's Corroded Coffin's mascot, and you--Steve, I can't believe that was you."

"Surprise," he bumps Eddie's forehead with his.

They hold each other in the center of the destruction, but none of that matters right now, not when it feels like every moment since they very first met as children was leading them to this.

From the other half of the trailer, they hear footsteps, chattering, Wayne and Robin and Dustin, but Steve wants this to last a little longer.

"So, marriage...that still off the table?"

Eddie laughs softly, nuzzles his face against Steve's neck. "Are you kidding, sweetheart? No way I'm letting you go."

[j2h5b5]

It didn’t take a genius to realize that Steve Harrington was devoted to his kids.

And they were indeed Steve’s kids. He knew it, they knew it, anyone who saw him with them knew it, including, oddly enough, the children’s actual parents. They might not have understood exactly why their offspring were so tightly intertwined—with each other and with Steve and with the small assemblage of Hawkinsians that included the chatty and rather eccentric girl who worked with Steve at the local video store, a straight-laced honor student turned journalist who had recently taken up a distinct interest in (and displayed an alarming talent for) deadly weaponry, the lead singer of a heavy metal band who was also known to be a petty drug dealer, and, perhaps most baffling of all, the former police chief.

The biological parents might not have known why, but they knew that these people made up their kids’ other family—their Chosen Family, as it were. And not a single one of them—for reasons rooted in either blissful ignorance, parental inadequacy, self-absorption, or just relief that someone else was handling the hard stuff—was about to interfere in that.

[steveshairychest]

Been spinning a Maleficent steddie au around in my brain for days now.

Eddie as a fairy in the moors that protects the other smaller fairies because he is the largest and strongest of them all; his wings are so big they drag behind him when he walks through the soft grass. His first time meeting a human should have been the last, but he is unable to resist the human boy's call from the edge of the moors.

His name is Steve, Eddie thinks it's quite an odd name, but he finds it suits the boy with the soft face and freckled cheeks. They meet as often as they can. Eddie takes him by the hand and shows him his world; he shows Steve every fragile piece of himself because he believes he can trust Steve, believes that maybe the human loves him as well.

He is wrong. So very, very wrong.

Eddie never understood the power greed had over humans until the man he thought he loved stole the only thing that mattered to him; his wings. And all so Steve could sit on a throne and call himself 'King Steve'.

Eddie watches from afar as Steve rules from his castle; well, his spy, Gareth, watches the king from a windowsill in the castle. With a wave of his hand, Eddie changes Gareth into whatever beast he needs, whether it be crow or wolf or horse or man, he knows that Gareth will do his bidding. He's quite a loyal bird.

Eddie knows that he's let himself be consumed by rage and revenge. He knows it even as he climbs the steps of King Steve's great castle to meet the newborn prince. "I am quite upset I wasn't invited to the party, Stevie." He peers into the crib to stare at the little face of Prince Dustin and is struck with an idea; a way to get his revenge on Steve.

"I'd like to give him a gift." Eddie says with a cruel smile before bestowing a curse onto the innocent child.

What Eddie doesn't expect is his own inability to leave the child alone as he grows up in a cottage with two fairies that are very unequipped for raising a human child. Robin and Nancy flit about the poor screaming prince and try to feed him carrots and beets from the garden. "Maybe he's a shy eater. We won't look, my prince." Robin yells while shoving Nancy out of the small nursery.

Idiots. Eddie thinks before waving Gareth over to deal with the starving prince. He needs the baby alive to complete the curse, that's all.

But as the prince grows and begins to wander the forest, Eddie finds himself always one step behind, his footsteps completely silent so that he doesn't startle the child. He's not stupid. Eddie knows he's quite frightening with his horns and dark clothes and permanent scowl, even his old fairy friends give him a wide berth as he stalks through the moors.

Except, instead of screaming and running away, when the child finally spots Eddie, he runs up to him and demands to be picked up, his dirty little hands tugging at Eddie's cape. Eddie scowls down at him, his hands shaking slightly as he gives in and scoops the little beast up. "This doesn't mean I like you." He hisses. Dustin just smiles.

They become an unlikely pair. The other fairies watch in awe as Dustin, now 15, weaves flowers into Eddie's long hair and tells him stories about how he wants to be a knight like his dad; his fictional dad that Robin and Nancy said had died in a carriage accident. "I'm sure my dad would have liked you. You're strong and brave like him."

Eddie scowls down at his hands, he's fiddling with a pretty rock Dustin found him outside the moors. "Let's talk about something else." He grumbles as Dustin tugs a little roughly at his hair to thread a daisy. "Your birthday is in a few days." He says quietly, afraid that if he speaks too loud, Dustin will hear the guilt that bleeds into his words. "What have you got planned?"

Dustin instantly lights up at the mention of his birthday. He flails his hands around excitedly and jumps up to his feet to pace around in front of Eddie, who sits under a great tree. "I'm going to tell my aunts that I want to live here with you. In the moors."

"With me?" Eddie asks in disbelief.

"Yes! I've already planned a birthday mud fight with the river fairies and I have my speech for my aunties planned out. It'll be perfect." He flops down into the soft grass next to Eddie and stares up at the clouds, his fingers tracing patterns in the clouds only he can see. "I can't wait to be 16."

Eddie's stays quiet. The curse still lies in wait for Dustin's 16th birthday, Eddie can feel the power of it thrumming in the air around the boy. He's tried many times to lift it, but he fails each time; the words he spoke all those years ago echoing around him, taunting him. He's screamed and cried and hated himself all these years for doing something so evil to someone so pure, so full of life and love.

He can't believe he did this to someone he'd eventually grow to love with all his heart.

A voice Eddie thought he'd never have to hear again calls out for him the day before Dustin's 16th birthday. Eddie hates that he can't resist the pull, hates that he can't ignore it and go about his day.

"Eddie!" Steve shouts from the edge of the wall of thorns Eddie built to protect his people from the king himself. "Eddie! It's Steve!"

With a wave of his hand, Eddie clears a path through the thorns and stalks angrily towards the king; Gareth follows beside him in the form of a wolf, his snarls a clear warning to not make a single move. Eddie is filled with so much rage, his magic hums beneath his skin and begs to be unleashed upon the traitorous king.

"You are not welcome here." He seethes and presses the tip of his staff to the centre of Steve's chest. The king doesn't flinch. He just stands there and continues to stare at Eddie with those sad, hazel eyes; always trying to convey a message Eddie can't read. A quick glance around the area tells him that Steve's come alone, not a single knight stands with him.

He's not wearing his crown either.

"Leave or I will kill you."

"I've come to apologise."

Eddie laughs; it's a loud, hysterical sound that causes Gareth to cower away. The wolf can sense the magic stirring in the air around him, he can feel it crackling around Eddie as he takes a step closer to Steve, his staff now pressed close to Steve's heart. "No words will ever make up for the damage you caused me. You mutilated me for your own gain."

"You tricked me into... into loving you." Eddie spits the words at Steve's feet. He's never let himself dwell on it too much, but having Steve stand before him to 'apologise' makes all those ugly feelings bubble to the surface to choke him. "I trusted you." He jabs a finger behind him towards the moors, towards his people. "I let you into my home. I let you.. know me, and yet that still wasn't enough."

Eddie scowls and turns his back to Steve. "Enjoy your sleeping prince." The words are like daggers in his heart. He wants nothing more than to keep Dustin safe in the moors, but he knows the power of a curse. He knows there's no way he can stop what's already in motion.

He's about to disappear back into the safety of his own kingdom, when Steve calls out, "I brought them back."

Eddie doesn't turn around. He doesn't dare even breathe as he hears Steve lift the blanket off the back of the cart he'd used to get here. (A bit of a downgrade from his royal carriage). "I know it won't fix anything. I know I fucked up and did the worst thing imaginable but I have changed."

Eddie's feels their magic, feels the strength in each feather as Steve unbinds them and let's them soar across the small distance to Eddie. The sensation is overwhelming. He feels as if he's been struck by lightning and welcomed into a warm embrace by a friend all at the same time. He can't help the cry that slips through his lips as he falls to his knees and lets the comforting weight of his wings ground him. He's whole again.

"I'm not the king anymore." Steve says after a moment, his voice barely heard over the thumping in Eddie's ears as he tries to resurface from the pure euphoria swimming through his body. He doesn't want to be on the ground. He needs to be in the sky. He needs to touch the clouds and feel the wind glide through each feather of his wings.

"Eddie." Dark eyes snap over to the king. "I'm here for my son. I need to get him far away from here." The from you goes unsaid.

"Your son can't escape his fate." He hates how his voice cracks, hates how broken he sounds by the truth. Dustin would love Steve, Eddie knows this. Steve has shown every single ugly shade of himself to Eddie, and yet he can't deny the truth he sees before him; Steve's changed. He's let the crown fall from his head and gone out of his way to make some form of peace with Eddie. He's given Eddie back his wings, his life.

"This doesn't mean you're forgiven." Eddie says without meeting Steve's eyes. He once again turns his back on the king and, with a flick of his wrist, turns Gareth into a crow. "Fetch the prince. His father wishes to see him."

Steve bows his head in gratitude. Eddie lifts his own higher. "I will visit him once he falls into his slumber."

And he will find a way to break the curse.

He knows that true loves kiss is foolish, a fairytale, but that doesn't mean he won't round up every girl in the area to kiss Dustin's lips and wake him from his eternal sleep.

But he's not doing this for Steve. No. Eddie needs to do this for himself because Dustin means the world to him. When Eddie thought all was lost, Dustin stumbled into his life and showed him that love could bloom even in the darkest of hearts.

Eddie will do everything in his power to feel the warmth of Dustin's love once again.

[your-stranger-halfblood-things]

Dustin: You're alive!!!

Steve: You're alive...

Eddie, scoffing: No need to sound so disappointed

[gloomysoup]

anyway projecting on steve hours (don't look too far into it) ((no seriously don't look into it i swear i'm fine ahahaha))

anyway i made steve's mom the "bad guy" in this one bc it's a real thing that happens and i feel like fics always make his dad out to be the piece of shit. but im also projecting. take this as you will.

----------

Steve knew it was going to happen. He's known for years. It was only a matter of time.

There was this thing, when he was a kid. He was young. Truthfully, he barely remembers much of it. It was so long ago. But it was no less important.

His parents decided to separate. They needed time apart. He stayed at home with his mom. His dad moved out. Steve was still so young, and his parents were still so young. His dad went to stay with his parents about an hour away from Hawkins. All Steve really remembers from that time was spending a couple weekends with his dad and grandparents. It was strange. He never knew what to think of it back then. That's just how things were. It wasn't long before his dad was back in the house and his parents were acting like everything was normal.

But it wasn't. It never had been. It never would be.

For a long time, he pushed it out of his mind. It didn't matter. His parents were still together. They still pretended to be happy. That's the thing about moments like this, though. They're always going to come back and bite you in the ass. They never stay buried for long.

Steve knew about his mom's cheating for a long time. He just chose not to acknowledge it. Like maybe if he pretended it wasn't happening, his family would stay a family. Unfortunately, things don't work that way. Sometimes, it's better for parents to separate instead of put their children through something like this.

Subtle jabs. Comments about Steve's grandparents still getting his dad's mail. Jokes that aren't actually jokes.

Steve's absorbed them all. He soaks up everything like a sponge. He's bore witness to his mother's drunken confessionals more times than he'll ever admit. He's seen how closed-off his father gets.

And then he met him.

Well, not really. He saw the man leaving the house. Several times. His mother always lied when he asked about it, so he just stopped asking. He took note of the car in the driveway. The same one, every time. A Ford Mustang. He would hide away in his room, just watching the driveway until the man left. He didn't say a word. He never told anyone. He knew, but he couldn't be sure. Everyone knew. No one spoke of it. Until he had a cousin reach out. His aunt had, of course, drunkenly spilled a secret, falling from her lips like the bottle of red wine tipped over on their white rug at Christmas. A stain. Everything he knew was true. Of course it was. He had always known. How could he not?

Over time, everything snowballed. He learned more. Observed more. Witnessed more. He retained all of the information and tucked it away. His mother didn't know he knew. She was completely unaware of just how much Steve knew.

He knew the man's name. He worked with his mother. He had a wife. He drove a Mustang. This had been going on for years.

Steve knew that his father had talked to a lawyer, all those years ago during the separation. The lawyer had told him it would be expensive. With kids, difficult. Chances were, he would lose everything. Steve's mother would get all of it. It wasn't worth it. So he waited.

Years, he waited.

And then Steve turned eighteen. Without adding a custody battle, without having to worry about putting a kid in that mess, it happened. His father filed for divorce. He kicked her out of the house. Steve just stood to the side, watching.

He had always known this would happen. He had expected it. Anticipated it. He still wasn't prepared for the actual thing.

He had always known. Steve was observant. He had always known everything. No one ever realized how much he knew.

Steve was left drowning in all of this knowledge, too afraid to admit the truth. His entire life crumbled down around him. Steve suffered in silence.

----------

so i wrote this little thing in like half an hour. it is currently 4:30am. i work at noon and i have not yet been to sleep. my brain is plagued with thoughts. kinda weird that this is the first full thing i've written for tumblr. also, i did not proofread or edit in any way, so if you see mistakes, no you didn't. that is all.

[findafight]

LOVE how multiple people have been like "Steve is a Cubs fan" (including myself) with no elaborations. Look at him. He loves the Cubs. You can just tell. Poor guy is waiting for another thirty something years for them to win the world series. (And my god the wait may well have been worth that game) However I also propose Steve is a "got one American League team and one National League team" baseball guy. And. To rub salt in the wound of his Cubs fan heart. He is obviously a Red Sox fan. Idk how this happens but it does. (It's me projecting hehe)

Listen. The hilarity of him being dragged for being a Cubs fan is compounded by him ALSO being a fan of the only other team in MLB with a curse as famous. Double cursed. And for what is arguably the most boring sport (until it isn't)

[upsidedownwithsteve]

[4.5K] Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+

A/N: sorry, no advent blurb today as we’re v tired and v sick and writing doesn’t sound fun. but please have an old fic that was once on the masterlist

“This is a bad idea,” you whispered, shy, nervous, wanting to curl into yourself.

Steve stayed still behind you, your back to his chest, his legs bent and framing your own. His hand stroked over your knee, a safe distance, one that didn’t add too much pressure to the situation. The boy pressed a kiss to your cheek, nose nudging your temple. “We can stop, if you want.” His voice was quiet and filled with soft sincerity. “It’s okay.”

But you’d asked for this, face flushed, squirming on Steve’s bed sheets ‘cause how on earth did you go from watching Fast Times at Ridgemont High to talking about sex to telling your best friend you’d never had an orgasm?

“What?” He’d asked, face soft with shock. “What about those six months you dated that guy, whatshisface? Liam?”

“Lewis,” you’d corrected, fingers pulling uncomfortably at the blanket Steve kept at the end of his bed for you. “And no, he just couldn’t get me there, I guess. Maybe it was me. It’s gotta be me, I can’t even make it happen myself.”

Steve had paused at that, looking at you with parted lips and soft eyes ‘cause you looked so sad, so frustrated, defeat taking over from the embarrassment you’d felt in admitting such a thing.

“It’s not you,” he’d said, determined. “He should’ve taken his time with you or— or, found out what you liked.”

You huffed out a laugh at that, humourless and tired. You shrugged, hands falling into your lap. “How’s that fair when I don’t even know what I like myself?”

You don’t know what happened after that. Just that the movie was paused and the evening outside turned to night, Steve’s blue room turning navy in the shadows, the dull glow of his bedside lamp making your bare legs turn apricot and rosy in the light. His hand looked so big against your knee, like he could swallow you whole.

You asked him. Voice quiet, words making the boy’s cheeks turn pink. Asked him to help, to show you, to tell you what you were doing wrong which sounded so ridiculous, because Jesus Christ, it was your body, for fuck sake.

You sucked in a deep breath. “No, it’s fine. I’m just— being stupid. We can keep going.”

You felt Steve relax a little behind you, his body sinking into the pile of pillows at his headboard, your body falling into his in turn. His thumb drew circles on the side of your knee, a touch you’d felt before: during a horror movie in the dark of the cinema, in the front seat of his car when you cried about a boy who wasn’t him, when he’d argued with his dad and you piled yourself into his lap for comfort.

“Are you sure?” Steve whispered and his voice was right by your ear, lips almost touching the shell of it. It made you shiver, spine tingling. “And you’re not stupid. This, the way you feel. It’s not stupid, okay?”

You realised he was waiting for you to answer him, so you nodded, chest tight at his earnest words, always trying to make you feel better. He’d once told you when you were both only thirteen, that that was his job and he’d proven it true ever since.

“Yeah, m’sure.” You let your head rest against his, cheek to his chin, day old stubble rough against your skin. “Thanks, Steve.”

A silence swept over you both, not exactly uncomfortable but not an easy one either, not like it usually was. ‘Cause your skirt was hitched up high, the hem of it falling towards the tops of your thighs when you’d bent your knees and sat between Steve’s legs. He’d patted the space there and your body had burned, but you’d obeyed all the same. His thumb was still rubbing circles and your hands lay awkwardly in your lap until finally, finally, Steve took them in his own and placed them flat over your thighs, his bigger ones covering your fingers.

“So you’ve never, ever—?”

“No,” you whispered it back, like a dirty secret. Something to be ashamed about. “Can't even manage it myself… it’s— fuck, I don’t know.” You choked off your own words, heated embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck.

Steve squeezed your hands, gentle, soothing. “S’okay. Do you, uh, do you try? A lot?”

He sounded nervous too and suddenly you were thankful for this position, eyes hidden from each other, knowing his cheeks would be flushed, too pretty to look at. You sucked in a breath and nodded. “Sometimes, yeah. I guess. It’s just— I either get interrupted or it doesn’t feel right and then the times when it does, I just can’t… can’t. You know.”

“Finish?” Steve supplied helpfully.

You nodded again.

“Okay, uh, why don’t you— do you wanna, try? Show me?” You heard him swallow audibly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat and you felt his jaw tense against your temple, where you were leaning against him.

You stiffened, and Steve felt that too, so he tangled his fingers between your own and used his thumb and yours to skim up and down your legs. You wondered if he noticed how warm you were, if he realised you were running so much hotter than before.

“It’s just me,” he whispered to you, head ducked tucked down so he words fell into the crook of your neck. He sounded so soft, familiar, like the sixteen year old who’d picked you up from your shitty first date and told you that the next boy that hurt you would have to deal with him. “Do you trust me?”

You licked your bottom lip, mouth dry but you made a noise of agreement. “Yeah, I trust you.” You felt his smile, felt the affection ripple through him and back into you, ‘cause you really, really did. More than anyone, you thought.

“We can stop whenever you want, alright?” Steve said and you bobbed your head, suddenly feeling clumsy, fingers too small between his own, legs splayed out like a broken down China doll. You dug your toes into the mattress and breathed out. “Show me.” Steve whispered again. “Show me what you do.”

It took a second, maybe five, for your heart to stop rattling against your chest, for your bones to stop vibrating. But you took one hand from Steve’s and pressed it between your thighs, hidden under your skirt. Your underwear was still very much on and you were unsure how to go about that, so you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to find your clit the best you could under the cotton, shifting your fingers over the fabric.

Then Steve tsked, a soft sound that didn’t come across as reprimanding as it should’ve, but between that and his hand catching yours again, you stopped, unsure.

“You normally just dive right in like that?” Steve murmured, rubbing his thumb over your knuckle. “Christ, you gotta be nicer to yourself, babe, you need to relax more.”

“I do?”

Steve laughed quietly, a huff of spearmint breath falling across your cheek and wasn’t unkind, it didn’t make you shrink like you thought it would’ve. “Well, yeah,” Steve answered. “You gotta warm yourself up, right? Get in the mood. Hasn’t anyone taken their time with you? Made you feel like, uh, like putty?”

“Putty?” Your lips kicked up at the corners, lashes fluttering as your eyes closed, happy to listen to Steve and the smile in his voice. He sounded shy, and it was lovely, it made you feel better, warmer, ready for what was happening.

“Yeah,” he huffed. “You know, all gooey n’shit. Nice. Relaxed.” Steve sucked in a breath and pressed your joined hands to your thigh, his so much wider and covering much more skin. “You’re real cute, babe, someone’s gotta treat you the same way.”

“No,” you shook your head, trying not to sound too sad about it, ‘cause Steve’s hand on your bare skin was starting to make you feel real nice, warm, just like he was describing. Except you were anything but relaxed, heartbeat a livewire racing through your bones, a new pulse thrumming, stomach jumping at each touch. “You think I’m cute?”

You weren’t sure why you asked that, but suddenly, you were desperate to know.

“You kiddin’?” Steve said and you could hear the smile there, the one you knew so well. He leaned in, chin hooked over your shoulder when he felt you settle back against him, body more lax than before. His lips brushed your cheek when he spoke. “You’re the cutest girl in town, d’you not know that?”

You squirmed, too pleased with his comment but embarrassed all the same. Steve always gave you too much attention but it was the way it had always been, a little flirting over the diner table, his hand on the small of your back when you walked through too big crowds, an offered cheek for you to kiss goodbye when he dropped you home after school.

“Shut up,” you whispered, voice thick and quiet and caught in your throat. You didn’t mean that. You didn’t want him to shut up at all. And Steve knew that.

“Now, if you’re the cutest thing in all of Hawkins,” he continued, emboldened by the way you tucked your head into the crook of his neck, letting your fingers go soft between his own. “Don’t you think you gotta be nice to yourself?”

Your breath stuttered and hitched in your chest and despite the nerves that still pinballed around in your stomach, your thighs dropped open a little, the hem of your skirt hitching higher still and Steve swallowed down a curse.

“I don’t think I know how.” It was embarrassing, admitting it, cheeks on fire, nose scrunched even though Steve couldn’t see.

His hands swept up your thighs, taking yours with them, stopping short of creeping under your skirt before retreating back down to your knees. “Like this,” the boy whispered. “See? Nice and sweet. Slow.”

You wanted to let your hands fall away, wanted to feel Steve’s rough fingertips and wide palms span over your skin but when you tried to pull away, Steve only tightened his grip. “Ah, ah, c’mon. You can’t learn if I do it for you.”

There was a whine stuck in your throat; a bratty, moody noise that you didn’t dare let out in fear of being teased by the boy for all of entirety but Steve seemed to sense your frustration anyway.

“C’mon, you got this.” Steve pressed a quick kiss to wherever he could reach, a warm smack of his lips against the skin under your ear, right by your jaw. “Relax, remember?”

So you did, letting out a small sigh before sinking back into him, legs widening and letting Steve drag your hands up and down your thighs, your skin erupting in goosebumps every time you felt a particularly rough graze of Steve’s short nails.

“What d’you think about?” He asked, voice hushed, almost hoarse. It sounded dirty, like a secret you weren’t supposed to tell anyone else about. “When you touch yourself? What d’you think about?”

You pressed your lips together and shrugged, a gasp wrenching out from you when Steve moved your hands inwards, to the softer dough of your thighs, creeping higher and higher until you felt the cotton and lace edge of your underwear against your fingertips.

“I dunno,” your voice didn’t sound like your own. “Someone else, I guess. Someone’s fingers, instead of my own. Being— being kissed and their, their mouth. Lips. Tongues.”

If Steve’s hips twitched up into your own, you were sure you’d imagined it. But he took a second before he answered, nodding so his nose pressed into your cheek, his hair fell over your own.

“S’good,” he agreed, praising you like any teacher would. “What about their mouth, huh? Where d’you want it?”

You squirmed, face on fire, teeth chewing something rotten at your poor bottom lip and when you didn’t answer, Steve took your hand and placed it over your cunt, the cotton there suddenly more damp than it was before. You wanted to throw yourself out the window. Or worse, at Steve.

“Here?” The boy suggested. He wasn’t really touching you, just his hand over your wrist and fingers, guiding, pressing slightly. “Has someone done that to you? Has someone put their mouth here?”

You shook your head, unable to stop the little whine that came out with it, disappointment colouring the sound. Steve tutted, cooing at you with sympathy and he let out a stuttered sigh when you took it upon yourself to press two fingers closer to your clit, seeking out some friction.

“That’s a real shame, you know that?” Steve’s hands left yours, only to grasp your waist and pull you back into him a little firmer and you’d be lying if you didn’t feel him, hard under his jeans, pressed into the bottom of your back.

It only made you press your fingers into yourself harder.

“It is?” You were breathless, each word a huff of air, face screwed up and eyes shut tight as you tried to work out where you wanted your fingers the most.

“Fuck, yeah it’s a shame, babe.” Steve whispered. “Told you, didn’t I? You’re the sweetest girl there is. And someone’s not tasted you? Not told how sweet you really are?” Steve blew out a breath, as if exasperated. “That’s just unfair.”

“Steve.” You weren't sure what you were whining your best friend's name for. For release? Permission? Guidance? All of the above, maybe.

But Steve seemed to know, ‘cause he nudged your hand closer to your cunt, coaxed you into running your fingers over your cotton covered folds. “Yeah?” He asked and his voice was hoarse, a little wrecked sounding. “Ready for more? Feelin’ good?”

You nodded, clumsy, breath coming out a little heavier than before.

Steve let one finger flirt with the edge of your underwear, along the lace trim where your cunt met your thigh and he snapped the elastic against you, feeling brave when you pressed back against him, like you couldn’t be close enough.

“Want these off?” You heard him swallow hard, sounding quieter than before. “Don’t have to, if you don’t want to. We can do whatever—”

You lifted your hips in answer, one hand holding onto Steve’s thigh for support as the other dragged down your underwear and your cheeks cringed with heat as you caught a glimpse of how wet the cotton was. You balled them into your fist, shoving them to the bottom of Steve’s bed and they lay there like a flashing neon sign, all lilac and buttercream coloured flowers, lacy and mortifying.

Your skirt still covered you, hiding a lot from Steve. But the boy could look over your shoulder and see the way your chest heaved, nipples pebbled underneath your T-shirt, the one you’d stolen from him freshman year and made into a crop top. You were all legs, soft thighs, socked feet digging into his duvet, skirt flirting dangerously with all that bare skin underneath. He tried not to rut up into you, but he knew you had to feel him by now, his hard cock pressed against your spine, twitching at every breathy noise you let out.

“What next?” You asked and you sounded desperate, more pent up than you’d ever felt before and you wondered if it was really because you were taking your time with it, if all these slow touches really worked. You wondered if it was Steve. “Should I just—?”

Your fingers dug into your thighs, sitting over your skin alone ‘cause Steve was gripping at his own knees, knuckles white on the denim. “Fuck,” his voice cracked. “Just, uh, do what feels good, yeah?”

You made a sound of protest, frustration spilling up and out of your throat because this is where it went wrong, fingers fumbling, unsure where to touch to be able to coax you over the edge.

“Hey, hey, s’alright,” Steve assured you, whispering again. “Give me your hand.”

You did, without hesitation, and together, with Steve’s fingers twisted between your own, he guided your touch underneath your skirt. You held your breath as you felt your own fingers - and the boy’s - slip between your folds, your legs parting automatically for him. You felt his breath hitch and fall over your cheek as you let out a tiny moan, urging him on, your fingers following his as he swept up and down your cunt, gathering up the slick there before pressing your middle finger to your clit.

“Yeah?” Steve asked and he sounded awed when you cried out, a soft grunt that made him see fucking God. “That good?”

You could barely speak. “Yeah,” you whispered on a breath, head lolling back to rest against his shoulder, giving Steve an unobstructed view down your front, to the way your hands could be seen between your thighs, skirt rucked up around them.

“Atta’ girl, keep doin’ that, okay?”

You did as you were told, adding your pointer finger to the mix, rubbing the two digits over your clit in soft circles, panting every time you felt Steve’s fingers slip between your own. Steve’s free hand was on your waist, a vice-like grip that you weren’t sure he was aware of, his palm on the strip of bare skin between your top and skirt. Every time you let out a shy noise, he squeezed, kneading at the dough there.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, jaw slack as he watched you work at yourself, never letting go of his hand and fuck, fuck, you were so wet, velvet heat under his touch.

“D’you use your fingers?” Steve asked you, lips against your cheek, both of you leaning into each other as if you were unable to help it. “Inside? Do you put your fingers inside yourself?”

Twenty minutes ago, you would’ve died if the boy had asked you such a thing, but now? Now? Now you whined at it, cunt clenching around nothing at the idea of it and you shook your head, temple rubbing against Steve’s cheek in a way that killed him with how fond it was.

“Not really,” you whispered to him, ‘cause even with his fingers slipping over your clit, you were still so shy. “Don’t feel big enough, never- shit - never full enough.”

Steve swore his eyes rolled back into his skull, ‘cause all he could see was white, a blank flash over his vision that felt white hot. He rubbed soothing at your waist, let his fingers span over the width of your side, blunt nails sliding over your ribs. “Poor girl,” he sympathised and he smiled when you whined as he pulled your fingers away. “Shh, gimme a minute, hey? Here, just, try this, huh?”

You didn’t get to ask what he was meaning before the fingers that had been rubbing over your slick skin were in his mouth, two digits pressed to his tongue and Steve sucked. He licked over the pads, most definitely tasting you and you felt his chest rumble with a groan he tried to keep in. And then, as quick as it happened, it was over.

Steve brought your spit slick fingers back between your thighs, nudging the tips of them against your entrance. You keened, hips arching off the bed a little until Steve soothed you back down against him, mouthing over your jaw and cheek in a touch that definitely couldn’t be misconstrued as a kiss.

You sighed as you slid them in, two fingers fucking into yourself as deep as you could manage, slipping in easily with how insanely turned on you were. You hooked them up, like all the articles in the magazines you hid from your parents told you to do, searching for that spot that would apparently make you see stars. But you fell short, fingers not long enough and your clit was aching with neglect.

“Steve,” you felt close to tears, the usual frustration bubbling at the surface of your chest, ready to pop and simmer over. You’d have normally given up by now. “Steve, s’not working.”

“Gotta be patient, babe,” Steve assured you, “gotta be nice to yourself, c’mon, don’t let your head take over.”

But Steve saw the tear that rolled down your cheek and he caught your chin, titling your face towards him as he frowned down at you. You looked wrecked, heartbroken and all pent up, lips red and slick from where you’d chewed at them, eyes all glassy.

He shouldn’t have asked. But he was already in too deep. What does it matter now, right?

Right?

“Want me to help?”

He waited, one second, two, three and then you nodded, relief and disbelief filling his chest all at once. He swallowed back a broken moan and tapped his thumb at your chin, just catching your pouting bottom lip. “You gotta tell me, please?”

“Please, Steve, please. I want you to touch me.”

He’d died. He was dead.

But then you were pulling at his wrist and guiding it back between your legs, your fingers slick from where they’d been inside of yourself and Steve wasn’t sure he was able to handle it. His middle finger nudged up against your entrance and Steve felt it flutter, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath and reminded himself that this was for you, not him.

He was rock fucking hard.

“Ready?” He asked in a last bid for confirmation. You were laying fully against him now, thighs pressed to his, skirt barely covering you and you nodded so furiously that Steve didn’t dare ask you to speak again. “Okay, I’ve got you, alright?”

His finger slid in so easily and you clenched around him, velvet heat that made his heart stutter and his cock kick up against your spine. You immediately felt the difference, the boy’s finger thicker and longer, already reaching parts of you that you’d never felt. You felt like you were going to burst.

“More?” Steve asked and his voice eas shot, eyes closing at the feel of you, your small hand wrapped around his wrist to ensure he wouldn’t stop and Steve wanted to tell you he’d never stop if you didn’t want him to, that he’d do this every fucking day if you’d let him. “Another?”

“Another,” you agreed and god, you weren’t holding back anymore, moans tumbling from your lips when Steve slid another finger in with his first, the feeling of your cunt tightening around him making you both cry out.

Your hips were shifting against him, listing yourself on and off of his fingers and he groaned, stuttered dirty, filthy words into your hair as he let you fuck yourself down onto his didgits. The friction was too much for him, his cock straining in the denim, weeping for release.

“Touch yourself, babe,” he managed to groan out, sighing at the sight of you doing what he told, hand flying to your thighs so you could rub messy, wet fingers over your clit. “That’s it, good girl. Jesus, are you close? I can feel you - fucking hell - I can feel you getting tighter.”

You mumbled something unintelligible, a sob ripping through your chest and Steve decided it wasn’t a good idea to ask, deciding that he needed to get you out of your own head so your body could take over.

“Do you like it when I talk to you?” He asked instead, a whisper against your ear, his breath warm on your neck, his fingers spanning upupup until they grazed the lace of your bra. You rutted against his hand harder, whining when he hit a deep spot inside of you, one that made your vision go blue-white. “You do, don’t you? My girl likes hearing dirty things, right? Like when I asked you if someone had went down on you? If you’d had someone’s tongue here?”

Steve slid his fingers in and out of you a little faster to get his point across, sweating when you moaned his name. His name. Your own fingers were moving with intent now; tight concise circles that were making your toes curl.

“Would you let me do that? Huh?” Steve dared to asked, grinning when you almost ripped the sleeve off his shirt as you grabbed at his arm, lips falling open in a long moan. “Shit, you look so damn pretty, you know that? I could do that for you though, if you wanted.” Steve’s eyes closed for just a second at the thought of it. “Could put my mouth on you, let you know if you’re really as sweet as you look—”

You seized up, body stiffening as you let out a noise Steve would never forget, a breathy moan of his name that he’d think about every time he fisted his own cock. He kept pumping his fingers into you, eyes wide as your own hand faltered and you shook, head slumping back against his shoulder as you decided to hold onto him instead, hands reaching back to grab at his shoulders, his neck, his hair.

Your pussy was a vice around his fingers, filthy, wet sounds filling his bedroom and he was pretty damn sure but he had to ask, he had to know—

“You comin’, babe? Yeah?” You nodded, frantic, eyes slammed shut and nose scrunched up all cute and Steve couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop it. “Fucking hell, oh shit, yeah, there you go, that’s it, that’s it, that’s it—”

He wasn’t even ashamed that he came in his jeans like a teenager, in fact, he was a little insane with it. White spots over his vision as his cock twitched and jumped, letting his hips grind against your ass as you whined, your cunt still fluttering around his fingers as he slowed down the way they pumped in and out of you. He heard you swear when he finally pulled them away, slick with your release, sliding them into his mouth as if hiding the evidence.

Your eyes finally met Steve’s when you turned and flopped onto the bed next to him, mattress shifting as you both panting, chests heaving. He turned to find you already staring, eyes wide and cheeks flushed the prettiest colour, almost matching his own.

“Holy fucking shit,” you managed on a gasp.

“Told you,” he managed to say, fighting to keep the smile of his lips.

“What?” You frowned at him, wondering what on earth he wanted to say to you after that. He still looked like your best friend, still sounded like him too. Maybe just a little more smug. “Told me what?”

Steve took the time to push his finger into his mouth once more, enjoying the way your face burned, lips falling open as you watched, unblinking. He let his tongue wrap around it, chasing what was left of your taste until he let it go with a dirty pop.

“Sweetest girl in this fucking town,” he said.

[anonazure]

Just need to rant about my dad's comments and reactions to Billy Hargrove of Stranger Things.

My dad just started watching Stranger Things and I became his watch buddy. (This is my 2nd or 3rd time watching the series).

My dad grew up in the 80s and loves the 80s. It's the reason I managed to convince him to watch the series in the first place.

So, Billy Hargrove. He was very meh on Billy cause it's a typical guy in the 80s according to him.

At the basketball and shower scene with Steve and Billy.

Dad: "He seems like a nice guy, just tough. He's giving Steve good advice. Tommy sucks."

Billy waiting for Max at the arcade scene.

Dad: "He seems gay."

Me: "huh?"

Dad: "He behaves like a gay man would in the 80s."

Me: "ok...."

Billy at the Byers house.

Dad: "He's not gonna hurt them. Steve is there."

Me: "Why does that matter?"

Dad: " Billy has a crush on Steve."

Me: *I am internally screaming!!*

My dad doesn't care enough to know about ships, the drama, the behind the scenes or whatever. He only has interest in the story and the characters and he thinks Billy Hargrove has a crush on Steve Harrington!

I am sobbing...

[eddiernunson]

Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways to Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Harrington!Fem!Reader | 18+ | PREVIEW

Part 1 is now Posted

Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You're home for the weekend, which so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve's daughter), multichapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, no use of y/n, use of marijuana, perv!Eddie

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve's freckles. No skin colour, body shape/type

(Unedited) Excerpt Here:

The smell of his Irish Spring soap hits the kitchen before he does, walking into the kitchen mid yawn and fresh from his shower. Eddie’s shirt clings to his lithe torso like a second skin, showing off just the hint of a tummy with his sweatpants sitting low on his hips. You allow yourself one second to gawk at him and the hairs that peek out of his shirt until you reshift your focus back to your toast, panicking when you notice the jam that has dripped on your hand. Oh, shit again?

“What’s with the fancy get up, dude?” Eddie asks, pouring himself a cup as well.  

“Before we get to that, Sunshine has put some toast in for you.” Steve gestures with his coffee cup.

Eddie’s brows lift, looking just the littlest bit delighted as he turns toward the toaster. “Oh, thanks!” He snaps his fingers into a gun with his thumb and pointer finger, sending a wink your way. You’re mid-‘clean-up’ on your hand, rushing to finish before you nod to acknowledge his thanks. 

“Alright. My partner called,” he means work partner, “he needs help to close this deal. He’s having a really hard time doing it himself.”

”Who did you send?” You ask, knowing a little bit of his work drama. 

Steve hisses, wincing as he says, “Warner.” 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as the toast pops out of the toaster. “Well no wonder!” 

Eddie has been watching this like a tennis match, completely out of the loop but entertained nonetheless. “What, what’s wrong with…Warren?” 

“Warner,” you correct him, cleaning up yet another spill of jam off your thumb. “The guy sucks. Why Warner, why not Tommy?” 

“Wait, why does he suck?” Eddie asks as he spreads butter on his toast, looking way too entertained about this.

“Because he’s a 22-year-old fuckwit that doesn’t know how to close and only got this job because his dad gave it to him when he retired,” you huff, not at all distracted by how Eddie is eating his toast; like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, savoring every bite. His tongue occasionally pokes out to lap at the butter on his lips, his eyes closed as he muffles sounds at the back of his throat. 

He makes eating toast look depraved.

“Sunshine, you’re 22,” Steve squints, lifting his cup towards you accusingly. 

You scoff. “Yeah but I’m not an entitled dickwad who thinks just because his daddy had a job ‘oh, that’s my job one day!’. He has no experience versus his father who was in the game for 25 years.” You’re very passionate about this, more so than you had even anticipated. “Seriously, why him?” 

“He’s the only one who didn’t take the Fourth of July weekend off because he’s a 22 year old fuckwit with no family.” He takes a large sip of his coffee before setting it on the counter. “Well in any case, you are right. He has no experience and we need this account, so I gotta help him out.” 

“When do you think you’ll be back?” Eddie asks, giving you a fresh whiff of his soap when he walks behind you to sit on the other side of the island. 

Steve crosses his arms and leans against the table, mentally preparing himself before he disappoints the two of you, “Not til Sunday.” 

“Shitty,” Eddie sighs sympathetically. 

“Dad I can only take one week off,” you sigh, having only gotten two days with him. “When you get back I’ll only have one more day.” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He does genuinely sound remorseful. You know he’d stay if he had any other choice, but he doesn’t. 

“You know anyone else in town who could…” Eddie starts, obviously reminding your dad of something he forgot about. 

“Shit. Hmmm.” Steve’s eyes flicker to you, “Sunshine can do it.” 

You pause mid-bite in hearing your nickname. “Sunshine can do what?” 

“I don’t wanna bother her on her vacation.” Eddie states, dismissing Steve’s offer. 

Your dad saved him off, “I’m sure she’d be happy to help.” 

“What am I doing?” You ask more assertively, finally grabbing their attention. 

Eddie finally speaks first, “Oh, I asked your dad to help me pack up my uncles things. It’s a tedious process, I can get—“ 

“No, she’d be happy to help,” Steve offers again, looking at you and jerkily nodding his head towards Eddie. 

You’d be happy to help, you’re just thinking about the amount of time you’ll be alone with Eddie. Your plan was to keep a safe distance from him, allowing a free show in your best summer clothing while enjoying the hot weather. The close quarters your dad is sending you into sounds dangerous, butterflies erupting into your ribcage as you picture the deafening silence surrounding the two of you knee deep in his uncle’s things.   

“I’m happy to help,” you tell him, getting up to put your plate away. 

“I don’t want to force her into—“ 

“My dad can’t force me into doing shit,” you scoff, ignoring your dads own scoff. Now Eddie on the other hand could demand you to bark and you would. Down on the ground, on all fours. “Besides. You two wouldn’t have gotten any actual organization done.” 

“Thanks,” Eddie lifts his mug, giving you a wink. Your neck hair rises, scanning his arched nose and the rebelling stubble already growing in despite having freshly shaved. His aftershave is intoxicating, the sound of a glass mug clinking as it lands on the counter snapping you out of your daze.   

“When are you leaving?” You suddenly remembered your dad’s presence in the kitchen, funny how fast you forgot about him. 

“I should get going within the hour,” he states thoughtfully, grimacing apologetically when you give him sad eyes. You know it's not his fault, but you’re not the adult here, and the disappointment you feel can’t help but twist your features. 

He puts his hands on your shoulders, petting them with his thumbs. “I do feel better knowing I’m not leaving you all alone in this big empty house.” 

You tense up, avoiding his gaze as you attempt to smile. Being left all alone with Eddie in the big empty house is precisely what is worrying you. Your dad’s constant presence alone is the thing that has prevented you from even being tempted into going any further than elongated stares and late night fantasies. 

“I’ve been alone in the house before,” you say, tilting your head. “You’re about to be alone for the rest of the month.” That sentence just makes you feel sad. 

He smirks, shaking his head playfully. “I meant at least if I’m ditching you for work, then at least I’m not leaving you all alone. I was trying to alleviate my own guilt.” 

“I’ve already forgiven you, old man,” you tell him. “Go, rescue those poor investors from Warner’s slippery hands.”

He pulls you in for a hug, his heartbeat familiar as he leans down to place a kiss on your forehead. Your head is swung back abruptly as he pushes on your shoulders, leaning in conspiratorially. “Hey, there are worse people to leave you alone than the man that was once on a poster on your wall, hey?” 

That poster was stared down many times, finally taken down when you were about to move away, kept only because of the autograph in the bottom corner.

Regardless, your dad is having too much fun with this. You wonder who would have more fun if Eddie ends up bending you over the couch like you kept envisioning. Said rockstar currently bending over the couch to grab something jolted you back to the present. 

“And who gave me that as a gift after introducing me to his music?” You shoot back, meeting those chocolate brown eyes across the living room. 

“My ears are burning,” Eddie grins, walking around the couch to plug in the amp. 

“Are your keys burning, because I need a ride to the airport.” Steve interjects, smirking at your widened eyes. 

Eddie sits on the couch, one foot resting on the coffee table as he starts playing his guitar absentmindedly. “I am your noble steed at your service, Harrington. Just tell me when.” 

Steve answers with something, probably somewhat sarcastic before climbing the stairs to finish packing. You probably would’ve heard it if it weren’t for how absentmindedly his fingers were moving, individually plucking the strings as his other hand shifts easily to each corresponding chord. 

He is delicate with the instrument, expertly working her and zoned out as the guitar’s gentle tune fills the house. His many years spent playing is evident through how easy he plays the melody, getting lost in the song with his hands working idly. If it weren’t for his eyes being shut for the whole time, you would’ve probably pretended to go on your phone. 

His effortlessness of plucking the strings sends a thrill down your spine, has your thighs squeezing tightly together as your mind starts to picture his fingers expertly working you apart. 

“Ow!” 

Eddie’s yelp snaps you out of it, making you jump as you hurriedly switch your glance back to your phone. He chuckles as he sucks his sore thumb, the very same one the guitar string snapped on. “Sorry, did I scare ya?” 

“No,” you answer, sounding not at all convincing to yourself. Eddie lifts his brow to you, his face comically twisted as he continues to tend to his wound. “Okay, maybe a little.” 

He chuckles, smirking as he adjusts the guitar on his lap again. “Poster in your room?” 

Fuck, you were hoping he didn’t hear that, despite him being in earshot. 

“Well it was signed and it just so happened to be one of my favorite albums.” Despite your nerves tickling the surface right under your skin, you do your best to seem unfazed by his magic fingers.  

His brows furrow, delicately playing a soft rock melody. At least, you think it's soft rock. “Which one?”

”Hell’s Angels,” you answer candidly. You do like the songs of Freak! More, but you specifically requested a poster of Hell’s Angels because of the dark look in Eddie’s eye while he’s looking directly in the listener. 

There may have been a night where you placed it perfectly on the wall so it appears he’s between your open legs to make it easier to picture him glancing up at you while he—

He tilts his head dismissively lifting one side of his upper lift in a sneer. “Not my best. If I had to pick a favorite, and don’t tell anyone I said this, it’d be Freak!” 

You blink in surprise, grinning to yourself as you listen to the gentle strum of his guitar. 

“I do remember sending that poster off though, Steve never mentioned who it was for, I just figured It would earn him some serious brownie points for a girl he was chasing.” It feels so weird to hear about your dad dating, even after all these years. 

“Nope,” you shrug. “Just his favorite daughter.” 

“Shit,” he laughs, a hiccup in his guitar play, “if you wanted an autograph you should’ve just asked. Only takes me two seconds.”

Your mind buzzes with the offer, probably a throwaway comment of his, but just the offer alone is enough to send you almost on a mental spiral. 

-

I'd add more but the first chapter is only at 5k or so

if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! (if you're on my taglist you will be tagged for the post)

I'm aiming to post at least once a week but that might be ambitious. Aesthetic pictures will be updated with each chapter!

[moremaybank]

— concepts ⭑𓂃 ( one ) ( two )

rafe cameron !

rafe teaching inexperienced!reader how to ride him

rafe goes away on vacation and comes home to you with a 'daddy' tramp stamp

rafe mocking your moans while he fucks you

rafe giving you hickies and the pogues seeing them the next day

rafe teasing you about watching high school musical but then ends up getting hooked

stepbro!rafe stealing your panties

rafe giving you booty rubs

rafe jiggling your ass when he hugs you

rafe fucking you in prisoner/prison guard

rafe eating you out while you study

being nervous to sit on rafe's face

rafe and hand placement

rafe taking dirty pictures of you

getting dug out by rafe on your couch

brother’s bsf!rafe

rafe shoving your face into the bed to suck out the last drops of him

rafe gives you pussy slaps

gun play with rafe

jj maybank !

jj wanting a baby while you two are living at john b's

mutual masturbation with jj

"just one more" with jj

jj making innocent!reader squirt for the first time

jj gives you a treat after giving you surfing lessons

jj being obsessed with eating his girl out

childhood best friends to lovers with jj (full fic/au coming soon!) , another musing

you and best friend!jj sneaking off from the group

kissing best friend!jj to shut him up during a fight

you and jj fucking raw 24/7

soft and sensual sex with jj

jj tells you not to run from him while he eats you out

best friend!jj has to remind you to give your eyes a break

your feet hurt and best friend!jj carries you

best friend!jj stealing your necklace

ex!jj wants to come home (home meaning you)

best friend!jj rearranges your guts and almost doesn’t let you recover

yet another breeding kink!jj musing

tending to jj's cuts and bruises after he defends your honour

you and mechanic!jj talk about your future

convincing jj to stay

jj proposing to you with his mom’s ring

sneaking away from the pogues to make out with jj

pregnancy makes you forgetful

jj holds your stomach while you're pregnant

bestfriend!jj climbs through your window drunk

dad!jj respects his daughter's wishes

kissing jj’s tip

jj who gets just a lil’ mean when he eats you out

shy, pervy bsf!jj

jj gets hard after you peck his lips

steve harrington !

riding steve's thigh

[yikesharringrove]

Billy's always loved libraries.

He fucking loves books, has since he was a little kid.

But he just loves everything about them.

In California, he loved the air conditioning. He loved the fact he could find some random corner and not have to go home for hours and hours. He loved that he could read whatever he wanted for free. He loved that if he didn't actually take it home with him, his dad couldn't give him shit for the books he read at an alarming pace.

In Hawkins, it was a place to hide.

Nobody expected Billy Hargrove to be tucked away in the very back of the library, his nose in a book.

And to be fair, he hadn't expected Steve Harrington to be in the library, either.

Billy didn't even know his name the first time he saw him.

Steve had a cart next to him, and was reshelving books, humming quietly to himself.

Billy was fresh to Hawkins, and all he knew was that this town was shitty, and that boy was absolutely beautiful.

In a few days, when he was finally enrolled at the high school, he learned the boy's name.

Steve Harrington.

The stories about him were so different than Billy expected. The tales of the wild party boy, the wannabe bully with a short fuse and a shitty right hook.

Everything he had seen in the library was contradictory to everything he now knew.

Steve wasn't much of a presence at school. He was quiet in his classes, often daydreaming out of the window, or doodling sleepily on his meager notes.

Billy sat one row beside and two seats behind him in calculus, and he had noticed the large red grades at the top of each of his assignments. The low scores and the come see me! scrawled in the teacher's writing.

His ineptitude at school fit somewhere in the middle of the two Steves Billy had come to think about.

Mean party animal Steve didn't care about school. Didn't study and smirked at failing grades.

Library worker Steve blinked tears out of his eyes and stayed behind in class to explain to the teacher I promise, I studied so hard. I don't know what happened, I studied every night last week.

Billy had decided, he liked both versions of Steve. He liked the one with a snarl on his lips and a glint in his eye when Tommy H. said something fucking stupid. He liked the one who showed kids to the childrens' section with a soft smile and gave them a high five when they found a book to check out.

It took a few days for Steve to become aware of the shadow in the library, following his every move as he went through his shift.

The new guy at school. Billy Hargrove.

Metal head lady killer. Who gets into fights and flirts with everyone with a pair of tits.

Who sits in the library and reads Emily Bronté.

He smiled at Steve when they first made eye contact across the reference desk, and Steve thinks he must be imagining the wink thrown his way.

Billy had spread out on one of the desks near the back, his calculus textbook open, notes strewn about.

They had a test the following day that Billy was studying for.

Steve had kinda already accepted the failing he was probably going to earn.

But maybe...

Steve's shift is up in half an hour.

Luckily, Billy stayed put where he was, Walkman headphones over his ears, pouring over notes and example problems.

Steve knocked on the table top like a dork.

Billy looked up at him, and whoa, his eyes are so blue. He pulled his headphones down.

"Hi, uh, Billy, right?" Steve's face felt hot, but Billy just nodded. "Um, we're in the same calculus class-"

"I know. I've noticed you in there."

Steve rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Yeah. Well. I suck as math, and-"

"Do you want to study with me?"

And Billy liked the look on Steve's face. The eye-crinkled grateful smile. It was in between the Steves he knew. It was kind, but he laughed at himself easily.

"Thanks, man. I appreciate it. I mean, I'm stupid at calculus."

"Nah," Steve liked the way Billy brushed off Steve's insecure commentary. "This shit is hard. You wanna do some practice problems?"

[stevesbipanic]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 23: Skull Rock

For many years Skull Rock was Eddie's favourite place. When he had his first ever argument with Wayne, shortly after moving there he ran away into the woods. His thought process was that Wayne couldn't send him away if he couldn't find him. What he found was Skull Rock.

He sat under the big boulder, tear tracks drying on his face. The cold surface up against his back calmed him until he felt he could return home. Wayne of course wasn't mad at all anymore, only worried and assured Eddie he would never be sent away.

He often returned to the rock whenever he needed a moment of peace. One day he found he wasn't alone. A small figure was crouched under the rock, similar to the way Eddie had been months before.

"Hello?"

The smaller boy jumped at the voice, his face was blotchy from crying. Eddie vaguely recognised him as a boy from school in the grade below him.

"Are you ok?"

The boy wiped at his face quickly, "I'm fine."

"It's ok if you're not, I come here when I'm not fine too, I call it Skull Rock," Eddie said sitting beside him.

"That's a cool name, it's nothing my dad was just mad at me."

Eddie nodded, "Dads can suck sometimes. You can come here whenever you want though we can share the spot. I'm Eddie."

The other boy smiled, "I know, you were in the talent show last week, you guys were cool too. I'm Steve."

Eddie face broke into a grin, "You saw our show? It was pretty metal wasn't it."

From then on the boys met at the rock often, even if neither of them were upset. They traded stories and wandered the woods and climbed up the rock to bathe in the sun. At school it was different, Eddie was seen as weird and Steve was always sat with the basketball kids. But here, here they were best friends.

Skull Rock was theirs, their place, just theirs. There they could be themselves, talk about what they wanted. Even...even share a small kiss, tentative and soft like all first kisses of young love. Skull Rock was theirs.

Until it wasn't.

Until Eddie showed up at the rock one night and saw Steve there, hands in the hair of some curly haired girl, lips joined and eyes closed. Eddie never returned, and Skull Rock became Steve Harrington's make out spot.

Until Spring Break.

Eddie pressed his back against the cold rock begging it to give him some kind of comfort. Traced the spot where two stupid boys promised to be friends forever and carved their initials into the rockface. He hoped that Steve still thought about where Eddie would go to hide.

Eddie has never seen Steve look so relieved to see him, tried to hide his smile when Steve wrapped him in a hug. "Knew you'd be here," he whispered in his ear.

"It was our spot wasn't it?" Eddie hoped his voice hid the sadness in the past tense of the sentence.

"I'm sorry, Eds, I promise to make it up to you when this is over ok."

He thought about that promise as he ran from Dustin and the trailer, how disappointed Steve was going to be in him but he had to keep them all safe.

He's glad Steve was stubborn and refused to let him die. Otherwise, he wouldn't be kissing him now, cold rock against his back.

[soupinaboot]

Fuck it. Every Steve Harrington headcannon I have because I've been rotating that boy in my head like a pig on a stick Part 2 this is a little more in depth than the first one but only by a smug

- Epileptic, either since he was young or developed it over time due to all those concussions he keeps getting

- Favorite fruit is blackberries I have no reason

- Kinda sad but he never really had friends, yeah he hung out with Tommy and Carol but that was about it. Like after the fall out with them he was by himself, alone. I feel like if he was as popular as we think he is, he would have at least one other friend right?

- Does not have a filter at all. That one scene where he just casually says, "Oh yeah my parents are out of town because my mom doesn't trust him to not cheat on her any who!" and I feel like he just kinda does that

- Star Trek fan but he just does not comprehend that it's supposed to be nerdy (this is not my own I saw someone else headcannon this please tell me if you find them I can not)

- Absolutely sucked at ELA, could be cause of dyslexia or not whatever you want buttercup

- But on the topic of dyslexia, this headcannon is one of the main reasons why I love math nerd Stevie so much. Like, ELA test and History test are mostly long paragraphs that he needs more time to read through and his teachers don't care enough to give him extra time like he needs. But math tests tend to have a small paragraph that he can read faster or just focus on the numbers and finish on time, so he just got really good at math so he would have at least one class he passed

- Survives off of coffee, lord knows he needs it

- My most random headcannon is that since his parents were never really around or cared much for his safety, he used to hang out outside a lot and explore the wildlife around, got really into nature and animals, bought nature books etc. But his dad told him nature and animals were girly and forced him to stop even though he really loved it

- If he does ever go to college (which he doesn't have to, though if Robin went he would probably go with her), he would either get in education major and become a math teacher or some form of environmental degree

- His love language is quality time

- Among the three of them, Steve and Carol were the closest. Yes, Steve and Tommy met first, and yes they tend to call each other their best friends, but in actuality Carol and Steve were best friends. They have mean girl energy.

- He used to also play hockey when he was younger but stopped playing due to scheduling and shit. But he really liked it cause whenever he would practice there were these older figure skaters who would teach him figure skating (he kinda liked it more than hockey but he never told anyone)

- Speaking of scheduling, he is always tired due to his packed schedule. Since he was young, his dad forced him into a lot of sports and didn't really give him a break. Add that to his piano lessons, his jobs, studying that his dad forced him to do, friends, etc... he is just perpetually tired. And it fucked up his sleep schedule developing into insomnia as he got older

- Most of his and Eddie's dates are just them taking naps

- Once he meets Corroded Coffin they all become best friends. Like best fucking friends

- Specifically Steve and Jeff

[cherrychilli]

Caught

Happy New Year, everyone! Have some smut to celebrate.

Steve Harrington smut, AFAB Reader, secret relationship

Summary: Car sex with Steve turns awkward when you end up getting interrupted by one of Hawkins' finest.

A/N: Idk, I’ve just been obsessed with the idea of getting caught with Steve so I had to write this up quickly and get it out of my system.

Warnings: Minors DNI, NSFW, Dom Steve, degradation, dirty talk, P in V sex, unprotected sex (don’t do it), a mention of reckless driving (don’t y’all dare)

Characters are 18-19(referred to as ‘teens’ below)

Not proofread

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed this fic! (I love reading all of your comments and feedback, it really makes my day <3 )

Wordcount: 1.6k

The whole thing might have been your fault.

You were the one who initiated the kiss that night, not moments after you insisted that Steve park his car at the isolated forest clearing off the main road. You were the one pawing at his shirt, gathering fistfuls of the material and hurriedly settling into his lap. And you were the one urging his hands on your body, slipping them underneath your dress to glide over your hot skin.

“Please, Steve? I want it now”, you whine petulantly against his neck, sucking rosy bruises into his skin before slanting your lips over his.

“Baby, I really should get you home before your dad knows you’re out”, he manages to let out the corner of his mouth between your heated kisses. He means to do the right thing and explain that this was too risky, but the way you’re grinding your core against his crotch does everything to make his resolve waver.

You’d been dating Steve in secret for a couple of months now and despite how happy and proud you were to call him your boyfriend, it just wasn’t time to introduce him to your family quite yet. Having a strict father meant that you had to be extra careful but you both found that the sneaking around had added to the overall excitement.

“Can’t go yet- need to have your cock inside me”, you mewl into his ear.

Steve groans back in response. He always found it impossible to counter when you started talking like this, all needy and unrestrained. Your skirt rides us your thighs and your panties grow wetter as you pull the top of your dress down to reveal your bare breasts underneath.

Steve takes a quick moment to stare, decidedly throwing caution to the wind at this point. “Shit- we’ll have to make this quick”, he mumbles, one hand hurrying to undo his belt while the other groped at your tits.

You’d been known as somewhat of a ‘good girl’ in town. Polite, did well in school, reliable, so on and so on. The kind of daughter that would make any parent proud. As much as you didn’t mind being labeled a ‘respectable young woman’, it did bore you madly at times. Sneaking around with Steve made you realize just how much you liked doing the kind of things you were always told ‘decent’ girls shouldn’t.

Things with Steve started out nice and slow. He was the perfect gentleman but the soft lingering touches and chaste kisses didn’t cut it after a while. Eventually you started lying, telling your father that you were helping out at the local volunteer center when you were really out with Steve, letting him touch you in ways no one else had before. The more you got to know each other, you discovered the kind of things you liked. Some of it came as a surprise, even to you. You liked it when he got firm with you. Some moderate manhandling was more than welcome like having his fingers wrapped around your throat as he kissed you or being bent over his lap, waiting to feel the sting of his hand coming down on your ass. As someone who’d often been described as proper and pristine, you knew it’d come as a shock to anyone who found out just how much you liked having Steve spit into your mouth or how much you enjoyed the feeling of having his cum warm your skin. Every time he’d finish on places like your thighs, belly, breasts or ass you’d go so far as to refuse letting him clean you up entirely, haphazardly pulling your pretty clothes back on and letting his release stain the material.

One of your favorites was when Steve got a little mean with his words. You liked it when he admonished you, reminding you just how far you’ve strayed from being the ‘good girl’ everyone thought you to be.

“Bad girl, lying to your poor father just so you can sneak off and let me fuck you”, he’d grunt into your ear as he had you bent over his kitchen counter, house all to yourselves with Mr. and Mrs. Harrington out of town again. “Probably still thinks you’re his sweet, innocent princess”, he’d taunt, spanking your ass and squeezing the tender flesh as he thrust into your dripping cunt. “He has no idea what a dirty slut his little girl’s turned into”.

You raise your hips when Steve gets his cock out of his jeans, pumping it a few times before pulling your panties to the side and lining up with your waiting entrance. Your nails press into his shoulders as you sink down his length, moaning as you take him right up to the base. “Fuck- Steve, you feel so good- please start moving”.

With one hand on your hip he begins to work you on his cock, thrusting up into you as he grunts out, “greedy little pussy you’ve got babe- didn’t I fuck you enough last night?”

“Need more- please Steve, need you to fill me up again”, you whine shamelessly.

Minutes pass and you’re bouncing on his cock in a frenzy now, mouth falling open in a sultry moan when you feel him nudging your cervix. “Please please- fuck! Yes- Daddy!”

A wolfish grin spreads across Steve’s face, cocking an eyebrow up as your tits bounce in his face. “Daddy, huh? Since when- “

You cut him off with a quick smack against his shoulder. “No no, Steve- Stop!”. He ceases thrusting to turn and look out through the rear window, following your panic-stricken gaze.

“Oh fuck…”

The both of you had been too preoccupied to notice the Hawkins Police Cruiser pull up just behind Steve’s car and an officer already walking over to the driver’s window.

There’s no time to separate, Steve grabs at your waist, pulling you flush against his chest and tucking your face into his shoulder. In the middle of the scramble, he manages to pull your skirt down over your ass and throw his jacket over your back to help shield you. He’s still inside you, you’re both painfully aware of that fact when the eventual tapping against his window comes. Your blood runs cold at the sound of an all too familiar voice filtering through the minute gap, gruff and so very imposing when Steve has no choice but to roll down the window,

“Alright, break it up and go home you two”

“Yup- right on it- sorry, Chief”, Steve grits out through clenched teeth in the most deferential tone he could muster even though the tension is causing your velvety walls to clamp around his cock.

“Get back to your separate homes”, Chief Jim Hopper clarifies in the same indifferent and bored tone. Years of Police work has made him all too accustomed to situations like this. His gaze idly scans the surrounding area because he doesn’t need to peer inside to know that it was Steve behind the wheel, having already recognized his car. Neither does he have to guess what had been going on inside based on the way the BMW had been rocking when he first pulled up. Not his first time dealing with a couple of horny teens messing around in places they shouldn’t.

“Take the girl straight home, Harrington, you got that? and don’t let me catch you out here again”

Steve’s eyes momentarily flick to the gun holstered at Hopper’s waist, swallowing hard before replying. “Sure thing Chief, but could you maybe give us a moment to uh- get decent?”

Hopper sighs, deep and long and tired. “Two minutes. I better see you driving out of here in two minutes” he warns sternly and with that he’s walking back to his cruiser and begins reversing back on to the main road.

Steve waits until the headlights grow dim in the distance before speaking.

“Wow, your dad’s never in a good mood, is he?”

You pry away from Steve to swat at his shoulder again.

“That was too close!- I really thought he might recognize me- he could have killed you! Both of us! and how the hell are you still hard?”, you mean for that last part to sound reproachful but your tone betrays you, awe clearly evident behind your words.

“Are you kidding me? You’re lucky I didn’t cum in you right in front of him with the way you were squeezing me”, he laughs.

You blush madly at the thought.

“Steve! That’s so…”

“Dirty?” he smirks back and you melt.

It’s maddening having him so deep inside of you, long, hard, thick and throbbing.

Maybe two minutes might just be enough?

You can tell that he’s thinking the same, inching closer to your face.

You both abandon the idea when you hear the sudden blaring of the cruiser’s horn sounding off from the main road, your last warning to hurry up and get out of there. You pull away quickly but reluctantly from Steve’s lap, clothing yourself in a hurry before ducking out of sight when you drive past your father’s cruiser.

Cautiously sitting back up when you see his car disappear in the rearview mirror, you can’t help but feel sorry for Steve when you eye his erection straining against his jeans. You want to make it up to him after being the one who wound him up in the first place.

“Steve, I’m sorry”

He smiles back at you softly, “don’t worry babe, let’s just get you back before he finds out you were gone, alright?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, wringing your hands in your lap as you watch trees whip past and contemplate for a few moments.

Your face suddenly lights up, confident that you’ve come up with the perfect solution to cap off your rocky night with Steve.

“How about I suck you off while you drive me back home?”, you purr, voice sugary and eager.

Steve nearly veers off the road when you say it, fingers tightening over the steering wheel as he tries not to cum in his pants.

You’re definitely not a good girl anymore.

[superblysubpar]

dad!steve harrington x mom!fem!reader

a How Sweet It Is story

summary: Your husband and you have a Christmas Eve night to yourselves while the six little nuggets are asleep in their beds. | 18+ / NSFW

warnings: | the kids are mentioned in this as well are dad/mom things, but def not a part of this - just a night for you and your hot husband okay? | SMUT (dry humping, making out, dirty talk, fingering - clit action, steve cums in his plaid pajama pants)

1324 words

the prompts: [single lip] - a sucking or nibbling of one of the partner's lips [GRIND] - one muse teasingly grinds against the other

Winter, 1999:

“Steve,” you laughed, back arching as the back of your thighs hit the couch he was guiding you towards, “Steve, we should go to bed. They’re gonna be up in like three hours.”

Your husband’s teeth scraped against your racing pulse, tongue licking before he mumbled into sweat kissed skin. “Bed is for losers.”

His mouth kept its assault up, lips skimming higher, chasing your mouth as you shook your head from side to side. “Careful,” Steve squeezed at your hips, and you spoke into his cheek as he sucked at the curve of your jaw. “Last time you said something was for losers-oof!”

Back against the couch as he laid between your legs, landing softly but letting his weight fall against you as you both laughed. A little giddy off of a few hours of absolute silence from your zonked out monsters, a little bit of wine, and a lot of chocolate chip cookies. The stockings hung, presents wrapped, the tree glittering in the corner, the living room dark save for the warm glow it gave off. 

“You were saying?” Steve’s nose nuzzled into your neck, breath warm and leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

“Mm,” your eyelashes fluttered as he found the spot that made your hands jump to his shoulders, mouth kissing it sweetly as you stuttered out, “Melt down. Glasses. Losers.”

Steve’s tongue flicked at your skin, dirty and teasing making your stomach burn, causing your hips to roll against him searching for friction. 

“Oh, speaking of,” he reached over your head and you nipped at his arm, fingers scraping down his abdomen so he twitched away from the tickling. Face returning into your field of vision with glasses falling down the slope of his nose. His palms pressed to the cushion on either side of your head as he stared down at you. Cinnamon and emerald and gold framed by the new wire set he got, a little bit of stubble dotting his jaw and above the curve of his lip that you ached to feel scrape along your skin again. That is, until he spoke again, voice going a little higher and scratchy, face contorting into a character. 

“All the better to see you with my dear.”

You groaned, swatting at his chest as he smiled, white teeth on full display, cheek pushing up the two moles that dotted it. 

“Ew, gross! Don’t do that voice.”

Steve laughed, quiet, but deep from his chest, chain falling loose from his pale blue shirt as he propped up again, the new angle causing his hard length to nudge at your cunt through the layers. His eyes sparkled, eyebrows going up as your lips parted at the feeling. 

“You don’t like that one?” He pouted, bottom lip jutted out, hovering over you and rolling his hips with a little more pressure to get your eyes to flutter, “The babies love that one. Luke always turns the page back and Annie smacks my nose till I do it again.”

Thinking about him reading to your children was not helping your act of pretending he wasn’t slick - you knew what he was doing, chain bumping your chin as he leaned closer, red wine and chocolate on his lips just out of reach for you to taste. 

“Oh,” breathless, fingers digging into the couch so you wouldn’t grab him, “Well with that rave review, please, Steve, talk dirty to me in your big, bad, wolf voice.”

Steve let his lips brush against yours, holding your top one between his as you parted for him, squirming beneath his body. He tapped his nose to the end of yours, rolling his lower half slowly, dragging his dick up and down you as he swallowed. 

“Want me to talk dirty, baby? You sure? Last time we ended up with twins.”

“You,” your teeth scraped against your bottom lip as he thrust a little, tip nudging at your clit, his hand grabbing onto your waist as your stomach flipped. “Y-you always talk dirty.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s hand roamed down your thigh, dragging his nails across the skin under the sleep shorts, hitching it higher on his hip so he could drag himself over you harder. “What’s your favorite?”

He kissed over the corner of your mouth, tongue swiping over your bottom lip as your back arched and his fingers dug into the plush skin of your ass, pushing under the hem of the shorts higher. Steve kissed you, one tiny chaste peck, voice low, a gravel and rasp behind the murmur, “When I tell you, you taste so sweet?”

The whine that leaves you just encouraged him, but he teases, drawing away only to push against you harder in a way that made your skin hot, toes curling into the couch. Steve’s mouth pants against your cheek, both of your hips grinding in a shared rhythm, the tip of his cock pushed at your clit in the same spot, over and over, his cheeks turning pink as your neck extended, his name leaving you in a gasp.

He kissed your cheek, lips dragging to your jaw, mouthing at you hungrily. “No? Is it when I tell you to be patient? That you can’t,” he thrusts harder and your teeth bit hard on your lip to suppress the moan that fights to come out when he exhaled, “Cum yet?”

His lips pulled at your bottom lip, freeing it so he can bite, teeth scraping before he sucked, moaning into you. Releasing you with a pop as you both fought for deeper breaths. His hand pushed at the band of your shorts as yours curled up the soft cotton of his shirt and he swallowed, babbling,  “Is it honey? Baby? Just your name? You like it when I say your name? Tell you what you do to me?”

Steve drags himself over you faster, your hips rolling hard, and your entire body lit up, stomach burning, ready for him to just let you have it. Your clit was throbbing as he laughed, dark, lips parting easily, tongue swiping over yours filthy as he grunted. “Fuck, look at you, angel. You’re gonna cum from just this aren’t you?”

“Ye-yes,” your hands grabbed at his jaw, bringing him into you, needing to taste him as the heat started to swallow you whole. 

He cursed into your mouth, fingers sliding under the soaked cotton between you two until he was pushing circles into your nerves, your body a taut band as his mouth parted over yours, “Make a mess all over me, yeah? Tell me how much you want it.”

You gasped out his name, babbling another breathless yes, begging for more even as your thighs started to shake around his hand, and Steve nodded into your kiss, “That’s my girl, take what y-you want.” His hips and fingers matching the frantic way his mouth moved over yours.  

You were asking him for harder, more, yes until he was swearing into your lips and your back was arching off of the couch. His fingers were faltering, messy circles against your slick and his hips lost their rhythm, as you felt him twitch against you, he gasped out your name and a desperate please.  

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as the orgasm crashed over your body, fingers tingling and head feeling dizzy as he kissed you deeply. Your hands wrapped up and grabbed at the back of his head, fingers lazily moving through the soft brown waves. He held you closer, palms against your spine as he stayed between your legs, your kissing growing slower, noses pressed to cheeks, mouths drawing in and out for more until you couldn’t breathe anymore. 

It’s quiet aside from heavy panting when you part, bodies soaked in sweat and buzzing. Steve’s glasses askew on his face has you laughing, reaching up to fix them and he beamed, forehead knocking against yours. 

“It was the voice, wasn’t it?”