#steve: that’s ME!! :D!!!!!

[corrodedcoughin]

Yes yes eddie calling Steve sweetheart/darling/baby is good. It’s lovely BUT true chaotic goblin boy Eddie means he probably uses Steve’s full name At Every Opportunity. Any chance he gets.

He wanders into family video, sees Robin; ‘oh hey, is Steve Harrington here?’

He’s giving dustin a lift home, they are in conversation about a mixtape Eddie made for him and comes out with ‘I played this song for Steve Harrington and he said it didn’t feel like his ears were bleeding so that’s a good sign for his musical education’

At a corroded coffin band practice ‘sorry I’m late guys, Steve Harrington was late picking me up’ and he’s got the stupidest smile on his face but Gareth loses it ‘DUDE THERES NO OTHER STEVE! WE KNOW ITS STEVE HARRINGTON! ITS BEEN MONTHS!’

And Eddie just pouts down at his guitar ‘I’m telling Steve Harrington about this’

Eddie when Steve arrives to pick him up: ‘ITS STEVE HARRINGTON! :D’. Steve asks why Gareth is trying to bite through his drumsticks but Eddie shushes him and says ‘it’s okay Steve Harrington, Gareth is just teething’

[shoot1ngst4r]

going out of your way to search up [insert character] ANGST and all you get is smut

[hungharrington]

a little less conversation, a little more action, please

[rings bell frantically] CALLING ALL PPL WHO HAD BAD SEX EXPERIENCES!!! if that’s you, this is for u :D ! this has been in the drafts 4 months and i’m excited to set it free! enjoy! 8k words, fem!reader, oral (f receiving) MDNI THIS ENTIRE BLOG IS 18+

You think you might be the only person your age in the whole of Hawkins who doesn’t seem to get the hype.

Couples have been caught all over in the act. At the drive-in cinema, in the back of the cinema, hell, even beneath the bleachers at school — tongues down each other's throats and pants around their ankles, so caught up in each other that they don’t care about consequences. That it’s that good, that it’s worth the risk. 

Sex. 

You just don’t get it.

Once upon a time, one boyfriend ago, before you’d ever experienced it, there had been an inkling of eagerness within you. Curiosity twined in with piqued interest, you wondered eagerly about when you’d find someone who’d show you all about why sex got its reputation. 

And then you had it— with Samuel Cosgrove in his twin bed when his parents were out of town, 3 weeks into dating him. Your expectations crumbled. 

You decided quickly that everyone must be lying if that was what you were supposed to be looking forward to. It wasn’t… sexy. You didn’t feel sexy having it either.

It only left you feeling somewhat awkward and a bit foolish, with Samuel trying to ruck your shirt up even though you had asked to keep it on. Embarrassment crept in easily at how you seemed to be half a step behind him the whole time, not quite warmed up, not quite sure if this was the mood, not quite ready to take all your clothes off. 

The springs on his bed were loud and squeaked with every shift of weight. The whole thing sort of hurt more than anything.

You chalked it up to the first time, dredging together your hopes even as they rapidly deflated inside you, cemented by Samuel’s sloppy kiss that missed your mouth and landed wetly on the corner of your lips when he finished. 

His sweat stuck to your skin and you didn’t feel sexy, or good, or relieved or anything else the dozen Cosmo magazines under your bed promised you would. 

Next time, you said to yourself. You had even confided in your close friend, admitting to the underwhelming experience, and asked quite plainly when it ‘got good’. 

“The first time always sucks!” She’d assured you, her voice a hushed whisper over the diner table.“Trust me, the first, like, three times totally suck.” 

You didn’t mean to but, subconsciously, three became the number to reach— get through the first three terrible times, and… all would be peachy in paradise. 

And so when the next time was… underwhelming, you weren’t exactly surprised. Worse, was how it wasn’t anything Samuel did but what he said that stuck with you long after he’d drifted off on your sheets. Lying in the cradle of your hips, Samuel had traced his hand up your legs and then frowned, yanking his hand back. You had startled, propping up quickly to ask him what it was. 

“You’re spiky,” he said, chuckling in a mean way. You could feel your chest ache pathetically at his words and you instinctively tried to curl your legs in, wanting to hide them away. So what if they were? It was the middle of winter and he’d surprised you, showing up at your window to sneak in. 

When the fourth time happened and disappointment weighed heavy on you again, you deduced the truth. Sex was some big scam- some stupid joke that everyone was in on and just pretending to enjoy. 

It was easier to blame sex if only so you didn’t blame yourself. But… it niggles in the back of your brain, a line-up of indisputable facts that all point to the same thing. That, maybe sex isn’t the problem — but you are. 

And, look, it’s not really a problem when you’re not dating or seeing anyone.

… Enter Steve Harrington.

Admittedly, Steve was not someone you thought you would ever date. Or maybe it was the other way around, that you thought that Steve would ever date you.

His reputation as a bit of a player was as far from something you were interested in, especially considering your feelings towards sex, but… he had sort of proven you wrong every chance possible.

One month of dates and it’s been no more than holding hands and kisses on cheeks. You’ve kissed him properly, of course, once or twice, but lest you give him the wrong idea, they hadn’t been much more than a quick kiss. Steve still seemed to glow afterward, no matter what. 

It made you feel good. Safe. Warmed you to know he was happy with whatever affection you felt ready to bestow, and never pushed for more. 

You could tell he wanted it. It was hidden in the flex of his fingers and even the not-so-subtle adjusting of his pants when he’d invited you over for a dip in his pool. You’d shown up in your bathing suit— and it was the most amount of skin Steve had ever seen from you and it did not go underappreciated. He had been touchy, hands skirting up your sides, but still respectful. 

And strangely enough, you find yourself… wanting it too. 

Wanting for his touch, thinking about letting your own hands wander across his skin to find what makes him sigh, makes him groan in pleasure, what might make him whine. It surprises you, the ferocity of your eagerness, how it presses your thighs together tightly and licks pure arousal up your spine — even when Steve’s not even trying. 

(He was, you just didn’t know it. Steve knows exactly when girls seem to be looking at his arms and he’s unashamed to say he will flex his muscles and pretend he hasn’t. Robin has caught him doing this several times.) 

And today has been nothing short of wonderful. 

A balmy Saturday which you found yourself swept up in Steve’s company over at his house, laziness fuelled by the golden sun rays of the day. 

You weren’t even doing anything in particular, just enjoying being near each other. You had stretched out on a pool lounger with a book in your hand for the most part and it was with giddy delight that Steve seemed more than chuffed to just lay beside you, sizzling in the sun and then occasionally cooling off in the pool. 

Which is a spectacle all in itself. 

The sight of his chest gives you one or two steamy ideas, especially as it drips with water when he pushes up on the edge of the pool. His biceps bulge deliciously as you peer over the edge of your book, not as subtlety as you might think. You honestly don’t even mind if he catches you staring, not when this is your view. 

Your eyes trace the sparkling drops of water as they roll down his chest tantalizingly slow, through the chest hair between his pecs, down, down, trailing down his happy trail— fuck, okay, he totally caught you staring. 

Your eyes dart back up to his face to find Steve’s already looking at you, his eyes holding a playful mirth to them. His smile looks just a little bit cheeky. Bastard. 

Water splatters on the tiles where he walks as he pads over to collect his towel bunched on the end of the lounger beside your own.

“Good book?” He asks sweetly.

He says it as he scrubs the towel over his face, drying it off and then starting on his hair— he gives it a quick rub over rapidly so that when he pulls the towel away, his hair is sticking up in every direction. He holds the towel to his chest and gives his head a quick shake, like a dog, shaking out the extra water.

When he looks up at you again, beginning to towel dry his bare chest, you realise you haven’t even attempted to answer his question. 

“Book.” You echo. Steve chuckles a little bit and it kickstarts your embarrassment, finally remembering to say something else. You hold the book up to gesture with it, “Yes! It’s good, it’s…” 

Steve’s resumed drying himself and you find your words leaving you as the towel drags down his tummy, leading your eyes with it. Your mouth feels suspiciously dry. Want. You want him.

“It’s…?” 

He’s teasing you again. You startle, wondering if he’s purposefully trying to put on a sensual towel-drying show for you. You’re surprised to find you’re actually glad that he is. 

It feels like another subtle way to affirm all his affections for you without all of the touchiness you’ve yet to reach with him — come and get me, it’s like he’s saying, if you want. 

You snap your book shut. “It’s too hot to be reading, I think.” 

Steve frowns in his worry and steps forward, closer to you. He presses the back of his hand to your forehead lightly. “You feelin’ too warm? Y’gotta careful being out here too long if you aren’t gonna swim.” 

He sounds on the concerned side but there’s a touch of cheek in his voice too, like he knows why you haven’t turned the page for the last 5 minutes. It stokes the firey feeling that’s beginning to burn in your gut. A smile curls at your lips and you huff a little laugh, leaning back and batting his hand away from your forehead. 

“Yes, mom.” You jest, hand falling back onto the lounger. You lean back onto it to get a better view of him. “I’m not too hot.” 

Steve grins. “Oh, I would say the opposite. You are, in fact,” He leans in closer, one hand coming up to push some hair behind your ear. His hand lingers, fingertips on the edge of your jaw. “Very hot.” 

You couldn’t stop your reaction if you tried— which you do try, some sputtering cough with a duck of your head as you feel your body flush hotly at his words. His forwardness is something you’re still getting used to.

Just as you’re about to stumble through a poorly constructed sentence, Steve saves you— reaching over to grab his rumpled t-shirt and pulling it over his head. A small, disappointed, part of you wilts. You catch yourself from being so obvious, scooping up your bookmark and stuffing it in a random page. 

Steve offers his hand out for you to take. “C’mon, we both need some water I think.” 

You ponder if there’s a second meaning to his words as you trail along beside him, letting him lead you back through the sliding glass doors that open to the kitchen with your intertwined hands. Steve gives your hand a quick squeeze before he drops it to open the fridge, peering inside. You lean back against the counter, arms folding loosely over your front and allow yourself to look at him. 

Your boyfriend. It sounds even a bit strange in your head and you know if you tried to say it aloud, it would get caught on the way out, tripping over your teeth. Calling him your boyfriend cements all those expectations you worry so much about… even though, not-so-secretly, you revel in the fact thats he’s your boyfriend. 

“Thinking hard over there, I can see,” Steve comments teasingly and you blink, realising he’s already looking at you. He must have asked you a question and you missed it. 

“What?” 

Steve laughs a bit, pink lips pulled into a slight smirk. He shakes the bottle in his hands a little bit, bringing your attention to it. “Did you want to try some of this? I think it’s sparkling and…” 

He trails off, pulling the bottle closer to his face to scan over the front of it. You can’t help but think the furrow in his brows as he reads is adorable. He hums, obviously not finding what he’s after, and flips the bottle over. 

“…raspberry flavour?” He finishes, looking up at you, brows raised. He gives a little shrug. “That sound nice?” 

You think about it for a moment and then shake your head. Steve laughs in agreement and places ii back in the fridge, some mumble about his mom leaving it here the last time she visited home. He turns back to the fridge still rummaging. “Okay, anything in particular you want?” 

You are thirsty but… your stomach swoops as you realise it’s for something else altogether. If you want it though, you’ll have to ask. 

“Maybe, a kiss?” 

Steve freezes for an instant, then he whips around like he’s not entirely sure he’s heard correctly. The fridge door clatters loudly and he quickly grabs it, stopping the rattling bottles and looking mighty flushed when he shoots you a grin. 

“A kiss?” He checks. He lets go of the fridge doors to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly, too aware of his own unsubtle eagerness. “I heard that right, didn’t I?” 

A nervous chuckle scrapes out your throat but you nod. You uncross your arms but can’t settle them, crossing them again nervously as Steve comes closer. His brown eyes scan your face intently, searching to make sure he’s getting every signal right. 

When you smile assuredly, Steve sighs in relief and his shoulders drop an inch. He smiles too, his hand reaching up to hold your faces cupping your cheek. His strokes across your cheekbone as he talks. “Oh, thank god. I was beginning to think, maybe, you just weren’t into kissing me.” 

Then he leans in— and you hold your breath without meaning to. 

The thing is, Steve is a good kisser. A very very good kisser and even your strange gaspy noise as you try to remember to breathe is not enough to ruin the kiss. His plush lips capture yours and have you feeling as hot as the day, a heat blooming in your chest and spreading like wildfire. Your fingers flex at your sides. 

You push up on your toes without even thinking, to steal more of his touch, and when Steve breaks the kiss, you’re embarrassed to find yourself chasing his lips. You clear your throat and avert your eyes, sinking back down— embarrassed at showing how much you’d melted under a single kiss. 

You just don’t realise how it looks to Steve. 

“You do… right?” 

Your head pops up, eyes widening as you try to comprehend his question. 

“Like… kissing you?” You ask meekly, more embarrassed that he’s asking for confirmation. Embarrassed that you’d somehow been overly eager and also convinced him of the opposite in one kiss. God, maybe there is something wrong with you. 

“Yeah.” Steve nods, pulling back a little further from you— like he needs physical space in case you say something absurd like ‘no.’ 

Your hands react faster than your mind, reaching to grab his shoulders to stop him from putting space between you. 

“Yes!” You say loudly. You try to rein in your embarrassment for his sake, swallowing your nerves which feel thick and swollen in your throat. “Yes, I like kissing you. It’s just, I’m… I’m worried.” 

How do you say this? How can you explain that you’ve been so afraid of your kisses going a few steps further because then- then when things get heated and Steve’s expecting things, you have to explain that — that what? 

That you’re not really sure if you even like sex, or maybe that it just doesn’t seem to work for you or — or that there’s probably just something wrong with you that means you can’t figure out how the hell to relax and enjoy sex- and that it’s not his fault but probably totally yours but— 

“Woah, woah, woah,” Steve cuts into your spiralling thoughts, having seen the dilemma spilled across your face. “Stop thinking what you’re thinking and just, like, take a breather.” 

He places his hand on his chest and mimes a deep inhale. You copy him without thinking, chest rising and falling in sync with his, unable to look at him for a moment. When you find the courage to dredge your eyes up to his face, his eyes are soft and his brows have knitted together in concern. 

“Good.” He praises, hand falling off his chest to rub gently at your arm. “Okay, now instead of doing all that worrying up there just… tell me what’s worrying you. Please?” 

Part of you want to huff and hide, to make him really pry so you know that he means it. It’s dramatic, you know — especially because he’s being so good at communicating. He’s asked outright. You try to put the words in the correct order. 

“Just… we haven’t— I haven’t kissed you a lot because I’m worried about what it might lead to.” You say quietly, eyes back to avoiding his gaze. You stare at his chest, the tuft of chest hair peeking out, and do your best to swallow the knot in your throat. 

“And I— I don’t want to disappoint you,” you admit, frustrated at how a familiar sting burns at the back of your eyes. “But I- just, in the times I’ve gone that far and— and slept with someone, I didn’t… I just didn’t like it. I didn’t enjoy it.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, proclamation out in the open, and try to take a deep breath— just like Steve had instructed mere moments ago. Courage gathered, you open your eyes and peer up at him again. 

“Oh,” Steve breathes. You can nearly see the cogs turning in his head, his eyebrows twitching as he takes in what you’ve said and what it means for the two of you. “Oh, well that’s okay. I mean, if you didn’t want to I would never—“ 

“—That’s not the thing.” You interrupt. “I want to. I do. I just…” Your voice trails off, taking on a  trembling whisper as you say the thing you’ve yet to say aloud yet, for fear of speaking it into existence. You can’t quite look at him, eyes focused on the kitchen tiles instead. 

“I think it’s me. I think— I’m worried there’s something wrong with me.” 

Your words hang in the air for a moment and Steve feels his worry shift into something deeper, something closer to devastation, as he realises how deeply you believe what you’ve said. 

You genuinely think there is— even thinking it makes him want to scoff aloud. He forces himself to focus on consoling you here and now, instead of riling himself up with thoughts of whatever— whoever lead you to your immense self-doubt. 

“Well, there’s not,” Steve says plainly. Like there’s no room for discussion— his hand drifting down your arm to gather your hands in his own. They get swallowed, his hands huge when compared to your own. 

“There’s nothing wrong— you- you could never disappoint me in that way.” 

Your eyes lift from the ground to his face, desperate to see if you can see the truth in his words. He can tell- fuck, he can already read you so well. 

“Honest,” He insists, giving your hands a quick squeeze. “I promise you, okay? I- if I was disappointed over something like that it would be- that would be such a dick move.” 

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first.” You mutter bitterly. 

The words slip out without entirely meaning to; you aren’t trying to start a pity party but how are you supposed to explain why you think the way you do? How can you explain why you’re so worried about taking it further? Deep down, you know he deserves to know. 

Steve’s eyes widen for a moment, your words sinking in and cutting as they go. He doesn’t want to think about you sleeping with other people, for all the jealous reasons, but mainly because everything he’s learned today is that nobody has taken proper care of you. 

It twists his heart thinking of some fucking idiot not taking his time with you, not getting you comfortable— so that you get to this point, embarrassed, avoiding his eyes, and so entirely convinced that you’re the problem. 

“Look,” Steve says softly. His hands squeeze yours again and he tries to think of how best to say this. “If we never sleep together, I don’t care.” 

That catches your attention, your head jerking up to look at him — what? That has never even been an option with dating someone. Not in your mind, at least. You find yourself reeling, fumbling for words but Steve just keeps talking. 

“If you don’t wanna, I don’t wanna,” Steve shrugs, like that’s all there is to it.

“There’s nothing wrong if it’s not really your thing.” Another squeeze to your hands. You look up at him, aware you must look a picture of bewildered — there were a thousand ways you imagined this conversation going and this was not one of them. 

A smile pulls on his lips as he chuckles a bit, eyes falling to your conjoined hands. “Hell, for all we know I’d add to your disappointing experiences.” 

You laugh quietly but it’s saturated in fondness. He’s taking jabs at himself to make you feel better. 

“Hardly likely, considering the rumours I’ve heard about you,” You murmur lowly. You find it in yourself to squeeze his hands back, peering back up at him. Steve’s brows rise and he grins. 

“Oh? And just what rumours are we talking about?” He teases. 

“Shut up,” You say, no heat behind it in the slightest. Your chest is starting to feel lighter and lighter as the reality of his words sink in. “You know what they say about you.” 

Steve grins wider. “That I slept with Mrs. Click just to pass her class?” 

“What?” You wrinkle your nose at the horrid picture of your old English teacher with your boyfriend. “No! Did people really say that about you?” 

Steve’s grin fades, edging towards jaded. He gives a soft sigh, tilting his head back an inch. “People say everything and it all means nothing unless it’s coming from the right person.” 

He wriggles a hand free from your unaware tightening holding to brush his knuckles against your cheek tenderly. A piece of hair flops over his forehead, curling back upwards, and the buzz of cicadas fills the empty noise around you.

“So, I don’t know if some asshole told you or you just think that you’re wrong, but…” Steve inhales, his eyes darting between yours. 

The brown in them is intense, holding you fixed beneath his heavy gaze. “If— just you said you want to so, we can try and- and we can go slow and I’ll stop the moment you want to, okay? For whatever reason.” 

You feel a strange bubble of hope churn in your gut. It feels too good to be true. 

“…You’re sure?” 

“M’sure,” Steve nods. “Even for something as small as you don’t like the way my dick looks or—“ 

A laugh startles out of you and you shake your head. “I meant more about stopping but good to know anyways.” You pause a moment. “…Should I be worried?” 

You’re teasing. Steve delights in it, his own voice slipping that little bit lower— his knuckles on your cheek swiping across, down your jaw, til he lingers near your neck. 

“Why don’t you find out?” 

The hunger in your tummy returns with a new heat, rivalling the day. You suddenly feel nervous again, a roll of nerves turning over, but this time it feels far closer to anticipation. The kiss you’ve been yearning to give him, hot and messy, burns up inside you and when you rise on your toes, Steve meets you in the middle. 

Your lower back presses against the counter as Steve leans into you, his mouth slotted against yours. One kiss snowballs into another, and another, the fervency growing as you let yourself give into your desire. Your hands on his shoulders shift, trailing down to feel up the chest you’ve been gawking at all day.

Steve lets out a quiet grunt as your nails dig in and his other hand finds your waist, tugging you to press against his body — his other hand slides into your hair, clutching the strands loosely. You sigh into his mouth, nerves still alight beneath your skin but the way they buzz makes you feel good. Steve makes you feel good. 

Right as his hand scrapes along your lower back, heading lower, you’re both startled by the loud beep! that sounds in the kitchen. At the same time you peer around him, Steve turns and gives a sheepish chuckle, seeing the fridge door still ajar from when he’d been fishing around inside. 

He steps away from you, pushing the doors closed gently. Turning back, your chest swells with pride seeing the effect you’re already having on him; red lips, shiny with spit and a faint ruby colour in the apples of his cheeks. Steve smiles, boyish and charming. 

“Do you wanna keep—“ 

“—yes.”

You’re not going to squander this chance, not going to waste the days' chemistry when there’s still that tiny worry niggling in the back of your brain that today is all a fluke. That Steve’s words might just be an offer, something else that wouldn’t be a first for you. 

Steve grins. He holds out his hand and you intertwine yours with him, letting him lead you. Your stomach swoops as he takes you out the kitchen and heads for the stairs, checking back on you with a quick glimpse. You do your best to show him your excitement instead of your nerves. You’re not sure you succeed. 

Squeezing his hand does the trick for a final reassurance. Steve resumes leading you up the stairs, taking a familiar turn towards his bedroom, beginning to talk softly as he does. 

“Remember, anytime, anything you don’t like, just say the word.” 

You both pause, standing in his room and you swallow the doubts that try to claw back up your throat. Giving a sly glance at him, you smile coyly and wiggle your hand out from his. Trailing backwards to his bed, you pretend to think about it, til your thighs hit the edge of the bed. 

“Hmm… well,” You begin, a touch of sultriness dipping into your voice. “I don’t like… that you’re still wearing your shirt.” 

Before you, Steve huffs a silent laugh, that handsome smile gracing his lips as he ducks his head. He doesn’t disappoint though, his arms reaching up behind his head to shuck his shirt off in one fluid motion.

He chucks it aside thoughtlessly and where it lands doesn’t even matter — your eyes are fixed on his chest. His bare chest that you’ve been given permission to properly ogle at. You swear you feel your mouth salivate a bit. 

“Should've known this would go first, considering the way you were drooling outside,” Steve remarks cockily, folding his arms loosely. It makes his biceps bulge and you swallow again, this time nothing to do with nerves. 

“I wasn’t drooling,” You defend weakly, beginning to fidget with the hem of your own shirt. “I was admiring, okay? There’s a difference.” 

Steve saunters over slowly as you talk, steps slow and measured. He’s smirking by the time he’s before you, so close you can feel the heat of him. “Uh huh. Totally, sweetheart, I believe you. Need help with this?” 

His hand has reached out, fingers pinching the same hem you’re fiddling with. You nod slowly, “Yes, please.” 

Steve’s smirk fades into something sweeter and he grabs the hem with two hands, beginning to ruck it up gently, his eyes locked on yours — you raise your arms when it starts to get caught, holding your gaze to his until the fabric intersects. Your arms drop and you push away the urge to wrap them around your middle. 

Steve drops your shirt much more gently than his own but his eyes are still entirely on you. There’s a shine of awe in them now, flicking up at down the newly exposed skin. 

The intensity of his gaze makes you want to shy away but you chose bravery instead, reaching out to grab his side. Steve jumps, barely an inch, and before you even get a chance to question, he’s smiling. “Y’got cold hands, honey.” 

He draws them up to his mouth, laying soft kisses across your knuckles. Heat flushes through you and you melt beneath it, lowering yourself back on the bed. Steve follows eagerly, still kissing at your hands. He kneels between your legs and when he finally drops your hands from his, it’s to reach out and cup your jaw. 

“Keep breathing,” He murmurs quietly, eyes dancing in amusement. You hadn’t even realise you had been holding your breath. You realise it in one big exhale and this time, when you reach for him, you actually succeed in tugging him closer. You tumble backward into his sheets and Steve comes with you, his forearms planted on either side of you and his body pressed up against yours. 

“I don’t like…” You say, continuing the bit from earlier, your voice quiet and still tinged with a poorly hidden nervousness. “That you keep waiting to kiss me.” 

Steve’s brows hike up an inch but his smile hides his surprise easily, his entire face glowing a bit brighter. He looks fucking gorgeous bathed in the buttery sunlight, even though it’s just beginning to fade towards darkness behind the curtains. 

You stare unabashedly up at him, marvelling at his features that are etched in with adoration for you. You follow down the strong line of his nose, along the soft arches in his eyebrows, the faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that he has from smiling. 

You study the swell of his cupids bow perched above his pink lips and each of the moles dotted all over your favourite face— and think to yourself it’s not fucking fair that he looks like this. Like he’s been carved from marble and cast in gold. 

Thank God he’s yours. 

He doesn’t disappoint you — his lips finding yours and kissing you deeply, his chest brushing your own. Your entire body seems to sigh at the touch, tingling with anticipation — you’ve been overdue for all these kisses for far too long and it seems once you’ve gotten started, it feels impossible to stop.

You kiss needily, your hands moving off his midriff to drift up to his jawline. You cradle it gently, your lips a little less gentle- you try to remember how to do this, how to nip at his lips teasingly, how to soothe them with your tongue. 

Slowly, Steve’s body weight lowers onto you as he focuses more and more on figuring out what you seem to like. Time melts like candle wax and you feel as goopy as it too, all warm and pliable, softened by his kisses. Heat begins to simmer in your gut. You don’t know how long you’ve been kissing when Steve pulls away, his mouth cherry red and his face flushed. 

His fingers slip beneath the strap of your bra, toying with it but nothing more. He checks over your face as he asks, “Wanna take this off?” 

You nod, breathlessly. Up til now, it’s been easy to turn off your brain and let all your thoughts revolve around getting kissed absolutely stupid by Steve. 

But as his hands work deftly beneath you, unclipping the strap of your bra and beginning to tug it down, you feel the first worry creep in — this is usually when your panties follow, then his boxers, and then the expectations. Even with all your enjoyment, you know that if he tries now, you won’t be ready. 

Frustration bubbles up in your chest, mingling with your insecurity and you squirm a bit, trying to think of how to tell Steve without disappointing him. 

You’re so sick of disappointing people for something you can’t seem to help. 

Steve notices your squirming. His head shoots up to meet your gaze, a furrow back in his brow. “Hey, hey, what’s goin’ on?” 

“I…” Words die on your tongue easily, a war happening inside your throat as you debate what to say. You like him— you really like him and don’t want this to end and… he told you he wants you to tell the truth. 

“I don’t… I’m not—“ Your whisper climbs in volume alongside your frustration. “Steve, this isn’t working.” 

The wrinkle between his brow deepens and it’s not a comforting sight. Steve shifts a bit, his hand moving from the straps of your bra up to your face. He pushes back a few stray locks of hair, eyes sincere. 

“Not working?” He murmurs, “Baby, we’ve only just started.” 

You blink up at him once, twice. Your mouth opens and then closes again. 

You know that but you also know how this goes. Well, you think you know— so why do you suddenly feel so foolish? 

“Oh.” You say shyly. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and try to ignore feeling like you’ve just ruined the mood. 

Steve takes it all in his stride, nothing but a twitch in his furrows brows as he takes in your embarrassed expression. He leans down, and kisses your neck, then your collarbone. His lips trail down, down, slow and sensual. Your bra scraps down your arms, tossed aside absentmindedly.

“Sweet girl,” he whispers into your skin. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Sorry?” You echo, a bit breathier as Steve's kisses scrape down your breast. Your nipples peak to attention.

“Mhm,” he hums, his lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking— his hands paw greedily at your back which arches eagerly into his kisses. Steve drags his mouth off, beginning to mouth softly down your breast til his plush lips kiss at your sternum. 

“M’sorry that nobody has ever taken care of you before.”

You squirm beneath him at his words, a warm flush washing through your body as desire spins up inside you. Steve continues as if he hasn’t turned your whole view inside-out— his hand shifting up to thumb at your nipple as he takes your nipple back between his lips. 

“Steve…” you sigh out. 

He’s kneading your body in just the right way, the sensitivity of your chest fuelling the pool of heat growing deep in your stomach. You feel your thighs clench together, hips shifting up instinctively. You haven’t been touched like this before and fuck, it’s a lot. 

“I know, honey.” He says lowly, voice muffled against your skin. He suckles at your nipple and just nips at it, a flash of teeth, enough to make you arch further. Your eyes slip shut and you push your chest further out. 

To your disappointment, Steve pulls back instead. Your eyes open, neck craning to look at him, your chest rising and falling with your heavy breaths.

“Y’tell me if there’s anything you don’t like, alright?” 

Somehow, the heat in your gut flares that much hotter — knowing that there’s love behind every motion. You scramble for threads of courage and hold them tightly. Then you bend your legs until you can slide them around his waist, ankles crossing and tugging him closer. His cock, straining in his pants, presses flush against your core, and at the same time you inhale, Steve stutters out a groan. 

“I’ll tell you.” You say, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to hold back your grin. It melts away as Steve shifts against you purposefully, one of his hands dropping to hold your hip. The hard length of him grinds against your cunt, catching the angle of your clit in a way that makes you mewl beneath him. 

Steve kisses your breast again but your hands are already reaching for him— fingers cupping his jaw to tug him up. Your lips capture his and this time, when he rolls his hips into yours, the soft noise you make is swallowed in his kiss. It’s fervent, your kisses gaining speed and mess. You tighten your ankles and experiment with your grind and are rewarded with a jagged moan from Steve. 

Faintly, you consider how it makes a little more sense now. That all those desperate motions of making out, rutting against each other, hot open-mouth kisses— fuck, if it was always like this, you get it. You feel like you’re on fire. 

A breeze flutters the curtains across the room, the only indication of time outside your little bubble. It’s far too easy to get lost in the motions— building up your lust until you’re sure the cotton between your legs is soaked through. It feels silly but god, even though you knew this was one of the things making all those past times so terrible, you had just assumed that’s how it would always be. 

The stickiness feels vulgar, your cunt pulsating with heat like you’ve never felt before. It just makes it all feel better though— the warm, hard heat of Steve’s cock, fitting snug between your folds. 

A pause in the makeout to catch your breath. You’re huffing wildly and Steve takes the moment of his undistracted attention to focus on the shorts you’re wearing. He doesn’t ask verbally this time but as he hooks his fingers beneath the waistband, his eyes flash up to yours in question. 

You wiggle your hips and Steve takes his cue, the fabric scraping against your skin as it slides down, down, down. To your surprise, Steve goes with them. He gets halfway down the bed, his head aligned with your belly, hands kneading at the flesh of your boobs before he halts. 

“I wanna try something,” He says, looking up at you. He dots a quick kiss onto your skin as he does, not breaking eye contact. “And I think you’re gonna really love it.” 

He drags out the word really, his voice low enough that it rumbles, nearly a purr. 

“It involves a little bit of this.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss into your navel. He kisses nice and slow, the plushness of his lips scraping across the stretch of skin. 

You shiver a little, feeling how your thighs part instinctively and Steve smiles wickedly, seeing the motion. 

“A little—“ He travels further down, his hands sliding to hold the outside of your thighs. He grips the skin and urges it to spread wider— then takes a greedy fat lick along your inner thigh. “—of this.” 

You squirm. It’s unnerving in the best way, having someone so dedicated to making you feel good— but Steve’s face betrays no hint of insincerity. In fact, if you had to guess, you’d say he even looks excited. 

His large tan hands cover your hips, slender fingers curved atop your thighs to keep them pried open. You’re expecting the next question to be getting the final scrap of clothing off you— a mixture of nerves and excitement at the vulnerability that comes with taking them off. 

He doesn’t though. Drawing a line with the tip of his nose, he nuzzles down from the inside of your knee to your thigh, the warmth of his breath fanning across sensitive skin. He kisses your cunt, once, soft. You twitch, a sweet noise pushing past your lips. 

Steve does it again. This time, his lips part and you feel his tongue press through the soaked cotton of your panties — he kisses again, harder, moving over your clit with his tongue. This time you moan and feel your hips tip up to chase his mouth, surprising yourself. 

Fuck, when have you ever been this wet before? The cotton between your legs is sticky and it only gets messier with Steve’s every lick. The duvet crinkles beneath you as you sigh and sink into it, the low throb of pleasure curling up in your gut. 

“Steve,” you sigh his name like it’s a prayer. 

He hums against your core, his fingers gliding beneath the elastic of your panties but not pulling them down just yet. His hot mouth drops lower, his nose pressing into you at the perfect angle. Your breathy exhale is lilted with moans. 

“See?” He murmurs, so low you nearly don’t hear him. 

“S’Nothing wrong with you, sweetheart. Y’just needed…“ His fingers grip your panties and begin to pull and you aid him quickly with a lift of your hips. “…someone to take a little more care with you.” 

Any fear of vulnerability is whirled far away; you need his mouth back on you, like, yesterday. Especially when Steve groans. Like the sight of your glistening cunt is enough to make his cock ache. Your tummy heats further at the thought. 

His hands re-situate, soothing up to your tummy before sliding back down to grasp the tops of your thighs again. He pulls them open wider. 

Pure fire streaks through your nerves, a sweltering pleasurable burn twisting in your gut as Steve’s tongue licks through your folds in one bold stroke. Your hips try to twitch forward but his hands are already there, holding them down. 

There’s one more pause, one soft curse of adoration, as his nose nuzzles along the soft skin of your inner thigh. You feel unbearably warm in his sheets, heat pulsating and dancing beneath your skin. 

“Steve,” you whisper his name again, urging him gently. “Please.” 

“I got you,” He murmurs in response.  “You don’t gotta say please with me,” He hums lowly, then kisses right on your clit, languid and warm, his tongue swirling around it deftly. You cry out softly. 

He drags his mouth off you and if you looked down, you’d see the soft sheen of your slick on his rosy lips. “I wanna give you everything you want.” 

You gasp as he finally puts his mouth on you properly, pleasure dribbling through your core as he suckles on your clit. He’s killer with his tongue, twisting it and flattening it against your bud in a way that has you squirming. The sheets scrunch in your frenzied grip. 

For the first time, you understand why pornos even sound like that— taking a moment to realise the whiney gaspy noise you’re hearing is coming from you. 

“Oh god,” You whine prettily. “That’s— uh— fuck, that’s really good.” 

Between your thighs, you hear and feel the moan Steve gives back. Your thighs are twitching, torn between trying to keep them apart or warm your boyfriend's ears. Your hips are moving, subtle grinds up into Steve’s face and he takes it all appreciatively. He sucks and slurps, tongue dragging down your folds to toy at your clenching hole— making you squeal. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, pulling back for a moment. His voice is doused in arousal. “You’re so wet.” 

Heat plumes low in your tummy as he dives back in, a groan echoing from his throat. The coil in your gut tightens, winding tighter and tighter. Your chest heaves as your voice melts away until everything you say is a whimpery little “yes, yes, yes,” and Steve’s name. 

His huge hands are still pressing your thighs apart but one shifts suddenly, barely noticeable in your mounting euphoria, until it’s tapping at your hand fisted in the sheets. 

You lift your head, confused, and peer down at him. 

It’s a mistake. His hand is resting on the bed in front of your own, propped up and fingers spread. It's clear he wants to hold your hand. Chest heaving and still lightly moaning, your eyes dart from his hand to his face — and that’s the mistake. 

He’s fucking beautiful. Hair mussed, rosy-cheeked, and dark-eyed, Steve can only hold eye contact for a moment before his eyelids slip shut as he moans against your cunt. Fire blooms under your skin, coil turned tighter and together. He wants to hold your hand. Your fingers just manage to tangle with Steve’s, holding tight, as you tip over the edge with a cry. 

It’s intense — jagged waves of pleasure that ride through every nerve in your body and have you nearly overwhelmed with how fucking good it feels. Incoherent babbling whines pour from your mouth. Your thighs lock up, beating Steve’s strong hold now that he’s down to just one hand, and close around his head. He moans in response, his tongue never letting up, licking and sucking at your cunt fervently. 

And he holds your hand the whole way through. 

You feel thoroughly flattened by the time your orgasm tapers off, your legs relaxing and flopping tiredly against the bed. Vaguely, you’re aware you should apologise for likely cutting off his oxygen flow for a good couple of seconds there but you’re too out of breath yourself to do so. 

Your chest rises and falls and a sweet contentment settles into your skin. You feel happy, loved. Without meaning to, an awed laugh titters out of you. 

Then another, and another. You can’t seem to stop laughing, a gleeful silly joy as you release his hand to bury your face in your own. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself. Then, slightly louder. “Holy shit, Steve.” 

You hear him laugh and the sheets crinkle — and then he’s in your field of vision, hovering over you with an adoring grin on his face. His lips are still so pink and there’s a shine on his chin. He wipes it away absentmindedly, focused on you. 

“I take it you enjoyed yourself?” He says, genuine and not at all cocky. He settles down, one arm on either side of your chest. One of his hands sweeps over your face sweetly. 

You nod, tucking your bottom lip behind your teeth to constrain your grin. 

“Uh huh,” you say, voice all gooey. “I didn’t—“ 

You pause. “I thought— and then you— and Oh my Goddd.” You cover your face with your hands again, groaning exaggeratedly as you try to roll over and melt away into his bed sheets. 

“See? I told you it wasn’t you,” Steve says, peppering little kisses where he can reach. He kisses your shoulder, along the side of your face. He coaxes you out gently, pressing your shoulder to roll you onto your back. You face him properly.

“There is nothing wrong with you.” He reminds you. You’ve never been so happy to be wrong. You nod, hair scrunching against the pillow behind you. 

“Okay,” You say, with a small smile, finally believing it. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” 

Steve’s stare is glowing with fondness and the next moment, he’s lurching forward to press his mouth to yours. You kiss back greedily and lazily all at once.

He pulls back and you hate how the thought comes to you, unbidden; the smallest wrinkle creasing between your brows. 

“But,” You begin, voice small. “That wasn’t sex though.” 

Steve’s head tilts an inch, like an adorably confused puppy. “What do you mean? That was sex.” 

“What? That was— that was like second base.”

Steve huffs a laugh, though not directed at you. His gaze shifts above your head as he chooses his words. “Uhh, sure, if we were still in high school. But even then, that’s still sex. We just had some sex.” 

Stating it so plainly, you can’t help how it makes you giggle a bit. Steve rolls his eyes, even though you can tell he’s entirely endeared. 

“We just had sex,” You repeat his words, eyes bright and grin growing. “And I really enjoyed it.” 

Steve laughs loudly and steals a quick kiss from you. Holding up his hand, he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Just had sex high-five?” He jokes. 

You slap your hand against his anyways, twisting your fingers to hold onto his hand as you let them fall to the bed. Steve beams, cuddling in closer, the tip of his nose nuzzling against your own. 

Turns out, you might be starting to get the whole big deal around sex after all. 

[stevebabey]

personally love the interaction in the start of s4 where steve goes “ugh, you know i don’t do double vhs.” when robin suggests doctor zhivago. like ugh robin!!!! we’ve talked about this before!!! steve has a limited attention span and if robin puts on something too long, he will start shooting her with rubber bands

[riality-check]

The eagerly awaited part 2 of the DILF!Steve concert saga is here!! Part 1, in case you missed it.

"You're not going."

"Come on! I haven't thrown up in an hour!"

"The drive to the venue is an hour and a half."

"Steve-"

"And if you throw up in my car-"

"Oh my God-"

"I'll kill you."

Steve doesn't need to see Dustin's eye roll in order to feel the full force of it through the phone.

"I'll just kill you. You'll have a headstone within the week that says Here Lies Dustin Henderson: Rightfully Murdered for Puking in Steve Harrington's Car," he continues as he packs Capri-Suns into the cooler for the car ride.

He doesn't remember ever being that thirsty as a kid, but if Anna wants strawberry kiwi, Anna gets strawberry kiwi. It helps that it's Steve's favorite flavor, too.

"I'd need a big ass headstone to fit all of that," Dustin snaps.

"Your big-ass ego would demand no less, shithead," Steve shoots back.

"Swear jar, Daddy!" Anna calls from her room, across the house because while she doesn't listen to Steve when he's right in front of her, she can hear him break the swear jar rule from halfway across the world.

He zips up the cooler, fishes a quarter out of his pocket, and throws it into the half-full soup can next to the stove.

(A quarter doesn't mean much, but Anna doesn't know that. The day Steve teaches that kid about inflation is the day his pockets become permanently empty.)

"Did she just swear jar you?" Dustin asks from over the phone.

"You baited me into it."

"I did no such thing."

Steve rolls his eyes. "You're not coming, though, are you?"

Dustin sighs, and, for all his teasing, Steve does genuinely feel bad. "I still feel like if I breathe wrong, I'll hurl, so, no. I don't think I'll manage the car ride, nevermind the actual show."

"Sorry dude."

"Don't be. Some dickhead will live stream the whole thing on Instagram, anyway. I'll live vicariously through them."

Steve snorts and picks up the cooler. He got Anna dressed beforehand, so it's just a matter of getting her to stop playing with whatever toy she dug up - Play-Doh has been the fixation of the week - in her room so they can go.

"Besides," Dustin continues, and Steve hates where this is going. "Anna loved the show, and you've got a reason-"

"Nope," Steve says, knocking on Anna's door. "Don't finish that sentence."

"All I'm saying-"

"I know what you're gong to say, which means you know my answer. I don't date."

Anna opens her door. From the little Steve can see inside, there are at least three containers of Play-Doh open and strewn across the floor. He thinks her Barbies are involved in it somehow.

"Time to go," Steve says, and he thinks, Please don't let there be Play-Doh in the Barbie hair.

"Five more minutes," Anna tries.

"Nope. Clean up and roll out."

"Hi, Anna," Dustin says through the phone.

"Uncle Dusty!" Anna shrieks, and she starts jumping up and down. "Are you comin', too?"

Dustin sighs, and Steve can't tell if it's at the nickname or if he's still cursing the universe. "No, but you and your dad have a great time, okay?"

"Can you, can you tell Daddy I should get five more minutes?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at her. Anna, to her credit, ignores him wonderfully.

"If you clean up," Dustin says, because he's actually Steve's favorite person right now, "you get to do more headbanging at the concert."

Anna gasps like Steve didn't already tell her that earlier today, and she gets to work on putting her toys away. Steve helps, of course, and he finds that there is, in fact, Play-Doh in two of her Barbies' hair.

Fun. They're going to turn into Buzzcut Barbies when Anna goes to sleep because he can already tell that they are the furthest thing from salvageable.

But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting Anna in the car, deploying the first two of many strawberry kiwi Capri Suns from the cooler, and making the drive to the venue, which Steve does with minimal road rage and accompanied by the Disney radio station.

Success by all metrics, really.

Dinner might as well be now, so Steve shells out a truly disgusting amount of money for overpriced chicken nuggets and fries at the venue. Anna will only eat half her portion but say she's hungry later, but that's what the snacks and water Steve smuggled in via his jacket are for.

They get to their seats, dinner finished up, just as the lights go down for the first opener. Steve looks to his left, half-expecting Eddie and his friends to be there before remembering that they won't be.

He tries not to feel too disappointed. He fails miserably.

The seat next to him, however, isn't empty. There's a note taped to the back of it, one addressed to Steve and Miss Anna, so Steve feels alright taking and opening it.

At the top, there's a messily scrawled phone number. Underneath, it says:

Here's my number. Probably a bad idea to call with all the noise. Texting works, though you should do that after the show. I'll be a little busy until then.

-Eddie

Steve puts the note in his pocket, puts Anna's ear defenders on, puts his own earplugs in, and looks at the stage, where-

Hang on.

He squints at the stage, where four guys have started playing a song that, frankly, sounds too much like literally all the music Steve listened to yesterday for him to care about all that much. The drummer is pretty small, with wild, curly hair. The bassist looks familiar. The lead singer, who is very talented but not to Steve's personal taste, also looks familiar. And the guitarist-

No way. No way in hell.

It's a total coincidence. Lots of guys have long, curly hair and heavy jewelry and big eyes and are wearing formal wear, for some reason, and catch Steve's eye, and-

"Thank you for such a great welcome!" the guitarist says, and his smile totally isn't doing anything to Steve, thanks very much.

Anna stops moving, where she's standing next to Steve, and climbs up into his lap to get a better look at the stage. She looks out, then back at Steve, then out, then back at Steve, making a face as confused as Steve feels.

Some days, he thinks he ended up with a clone, not a kid.

"I'll get off the mic in a second. I only do the talking because Jeff," the guitarist points at the lead singer, who ducks his head, "is really shy."

Jeff. That name is definitely relevant, but Steve is a permanent resident of denial.

"We fought about what song we were going to include next in our set list, so much so that we didn't decide until yesterday and had to consult a tiebreaker."

Okay, maybe Steve is a less permanent resident of denial than he thought.

"So, thank you to Miss Anna, who did great at headbanging for her first time-"

Anna whips around so fast, her forehead nearly collides with Steve's jaw.

"And to Steve, who's a big fan of American Psycho."

At the song name, the crowd loses their minds, and if Anna wasn't sitting right in front of him, Steve would join them.

Because what the fuck is happening right now?

His question isn't answered. In fact, about five more questions pop up in its stead when, during the bridge of the song, Jeff puts on a clear rain jacket and picks up a prop axe.

Please, God, don't let this traumatize my kid, Steve thinks.

Anna, thankfully, doesn't get scared. When Jeff brings the axe down, again and again, Steve's weirdo daughter fucking smiles. And giggles. It's kind of cute, actually.

When the song ends, she turns back to Steve.

"That's Eddie onstage," Steve says, and saying it, somehow, makes it real.

"I thought so!" Anna says, and she turns back to watch the show. Steve puts an arm around her waist so she doesn't fall off his lap when she bangs her head to the music.

The rest of the songs, in Steve's opinion, are better than the opening song. They're more melodic, which Steve can definitely get behind, and each of them has a gimmick onstage, all based off of various horror movies. It's ridiculous, but also really, really cool.

And Eddie, onstage, because it is the same guy who flirted with him and was so sweet to Anna yesterday, is really, really hot.

Steve has never had a thing for guitarists before. He's never had a thing for musicians before. Hell, until a year ago, he didn't realize he had a thing for men.

Eddie is. Uh. Yeah. Really doing it for him.

Steve doesn't know whether it's his enthusiasm, or the way he moves, or seeing his hair tied up, or the fucking dress pants and suspenders, or just his hands, but he does know he has to get himself in check because this is an all ages show and he's here with his daughter.

He already knows he can't add these songs to his grading playlist, not when they're accompanied by visuals of Eddie playing his guitar.

Sweet Jesus.

"Alright, that's our set!" Eddie says. "Thanks, y'all, for sticking around for us, and let's give it up for the next act!"

The crowd, including Anna and Steve, cheer as they exit and the lights go up.

Steve fishes his phone out of his pocket, fully intending to add Eddie's number to his contacts, and is greeted by not one, not two, but sixteen missed calls from Dustin Henderson.

Naturally, Steve calls him back. "Who died?"

"What the fuck?" Dustin yells, and Steve just puts the phone on speaker to save the rest of his hearing. "Did Eddie fucking Munson just personally thank you from the stage?"

"Swear jar, Uncle Dusty!" Anna says.

"Sorry," Dustin says. "But Steve. Answers. Now."

"How do you even-"

"Instagram live. Is Eddie the guy you were telling me about yesterday?"

Steve takes his phone off speaker. Prior experience tells him that this conversation has a less than zero chance of staying PG, nevermind PG-13.

"Yeah," Steve says. "He is."

"The one who flirted with you, and you forgot to ask for his number."

"Well, I have it now."

"What?" Dustin shrieks, and Steve is incredibly thankful that he didn't take his earplugs out.

"He left me his number on the seat."

"Text him."

"I was going to, until I saw that you called me sixteen times."

"Jesus Christ, Eddie Munson was flirting with you."

Steve rolls his eyes and hands a pack of gummy bears to Anna when she taps his arm. "He could have just been nice. I don't even know if he's into guys."

"Have you looked at him?"

"Wow, Dustybuns, I didn't know you were homophobic."

"I think it's the complete opposite of homophobic to try to get you laid."

"Hanging up!" Steve shouts because a part of him will never see Dustin as any older than thirteen, and no thirteen year old should ever say that.

"Text-"

Steve hangs up the call. "Can I have a gummy bear?"

"No," Anna says, mouth full, in her seat, legs swinging.

"I bought them."

She shrugs. "You gave them to me. Mine now."

Steve stares. She stares right back.

He sighs and opens a new pack of gummy bears.

With his mouth full of sweet Haribo corpses, Steve takes out the note and adds Eddie to his contacts. Before he can overthink it, he sends him a message:

I guess I don't have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we're even on that front, I'm a teacher, and Anna's full time job is preschool.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket and focuses on making this a good experience for Anna, who somehow wormed her way into a conversation with the intimidating-looking couple sitting next to her.

Because it's totally not like a literal rockstar is going to text him back. Right?

Part 3!!

[dreamofbecoming]

listen i know we all love steve “completely ignorant of queer culture to the point that bisexuality is a surprise” harrington being roasted and educated in turns by robin and eddie, yadda yadda, good stuff. i read “they made a horror version of rocky?” in a fic recently and cackled. also a big fan of “he knew he was bi from the start and just never talked about it” as a trope, love it excellent well done

but what about steve who realizes after starcourt that the most important person in his life now has this thing that’s a major part of her life that he knows nothing about, and what if he fucks it up? what if he says something ignorant or rude by accident, and hurts her? what if he loses her because he didn’t know the right thing to say? what if he can’t keep her safe because he doesn’t know what to look out for? absolutely fucking not, this steve says

and listen she’d never say anything, because she can tell that he can tell how much she likes teasing him and teaching him things, so he plays dumb, and she thinks it’s very sweet. but she notices when the zines she keeps under her bed that she buys at that one secret bookshop in indy when she can sneak away on family trips start going missing, always one at a time, and replaced in a few days with another disappearing. and she finds the new ones he must have gone to buy the weekend she was at her aunt’s house hidden in the back of his closet when she goes to steal one of his sweaters. and she notices when he slips more of her queerer movie recommendations into his personal take home pile rather than the movie night stack when he thinks she’s not looking.

she doesn’t notice when he drives to indianapolis after she tries to explain to him why she can’t just ask out a cute girl, tries to impress on him the fear attached to every moment of attraction that he simply has never had to feel, but later she finds a crumpled receipt from a diner in one of his jacket pockets when she’s looking for his keys, and the address is across the street from the bar the gorgeous woman at the bookstore told her about, the one she memorized the address of but hasn’t worked up the guts to think about visiting, and she knows he must have gone looking for a place like that, must have been trying to understand, must have been scoping it out to make sure it was somewhere she could feel safe, after she told him she never had.

so when eddie nearly pops a blood vessel when they clock each other and she mentions that steve is the only person she’s ever come out to before, her hackles come up. because she gets it, she does, he’s only known king steve until recently, so it makes sense that he would be afraid, be concerned for her safety.

but steve is her person, and no one- no one- has ever made her feel as protected or as cared for as he does. no one has ever tried as hard to understand her, no one has ever put so much work into making her feel safe and seen and loved. and she thinks maybe even if no one else ever does, that’s ok. because she has steve, and more importantly steve has her, and that means no one gets to question his ally credentials in her presence without a dressing down to remember, no matter how well they mean or how recently they helped save the world.

(and maybe she’s not as surprised as she could be when he figures out bisexuality all on his own, because she’s been reading all the same pamphlets he has, after all. and she’s seen the way he looks at eddie, i mean come on. maybe no one else has noticed, but then, nobody knows steve harrington like she does.)

[missingexaltation]

A few years after Vecna, Steve gets invited back to the high school to play in a charity basketball match with (and against) other Hawkins basketball alumni. It's for charity, and he misses the rush of playing (and he kinda wants to see if he's still any good), so he agrees.

He asks Eddie if he'll be there, but although Eddie's somewhat enthusiastic to Steve's face, he whines about it for days to Wayne. He fucking hates sports, why did he have to fall for a fucking jock, of all things. UUUGH! Wayne puts up with it for a while before realising that Eddie's not going to talk himself around, and gives him a blunt, verbal kick in the ass.

"You think your boy enjoys watching your dungeon and dragons shtick, son?" He asks, sipping at his beer.

Eddie's offended, immediately.

"He's never missed a session, course he loves it." he says. "And i know he pays attention because we talk about it afterwards and he's always..."

"And how's that make you feel?" Wayne interrupts.

"Fucking amazing." Eddie grumbles, knowing what's coming, and hating it.

"...and how do you talk about his hobbies?"

Eddie sighs and covers his face. Wayne carries on, knowing he's made his point but hammering it home nonetheless.

"Your boy loves his sports, he's always here just in time to watch the games with me nowadays. And don't think I haven't noticed how bored you are when it's on. I reckon he's noticed too."

Eddie's silent, starting at the ceiling with a dramatic, melancholy pout.

"Ah shit." He sighs. "I'm a bad boyfriend, aren't I?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. But learn from it if you want to be better." Wayne shrugs. "He makes you happy by indulging in your hobbies, maybe you should think about doing the same. Guarantee it'll put a smile on your boy's face, if nothing else."

So next time Steve brings it up, (tentatively, like he knows Eddie will complain) Eddie is much more genuinely enthusiastic. Steve's surprised for a split second (and doesn't that hurt), before he's beaming and looking absolutely delighted. And shit, yeah ok. It does make Eddie feel good to see Steve happy. Course it does.

The game rolls around, and hell yeah, it's boring to watch. Eddie's been reading up on the rules, so he's not entirely confused, but it just seems so pointless. Steve's good though. From what he's seen (and he's totally not biased, thanks) Steve's running rings around the other team, and Eddie's so fucking proud! It helps that Steve's in those shorts, showing off damn near the full length of his legs.

More importantly, he looks so fucking happy while he's playing. He keeps shooting Eddie these big, beaming smiles when they've scored a hoop, or point, or whatever they're called, and Eddie finds himself melting where he sits, face aching from smiling so much in return.

By the end of the game Eddie's fully invested. Sure, he barely understands what's going on, but even he knows enough that getting the ball in the hoop is a good thing, and Steve does it loads. Their team wins, and there's a huge group hug, pats on the back and other sporty, manly things before they all part ways and start making their way out to the parking lot.

Eddie stays put. He knows Steve will come right to him, and he does. They walk back to Steve's car together, and Steve's on some sort of winner's high; all smiles and cocky strutting. It's kinda hot. Screw that, it's totally hot, and suddenly Eddie's glad that Wayne's working tonight and they've got the place to themselves.

"Surprised you lasted the whole game, Eds." Steve says, teasingly, before he just downs a water bottle. "Thought you'd have died of boredom halfway though."

"Pssh." Eddie waves him off, trying not to feel embarrassed. "You know, Stevie, you're pretty amazing at that." He waves his hand vaguely back towards the court. "That shot you made from almost the centre? Chills, baby, full on chills."

Steve doesn't even bother checking to see if anyone's watching. He slams Eddie against the side of his car and kisses him, cradling Eddie's face with his hands, as though he'd die if he didn't have full body contact.

And Eddie knows the feeling. Like when Steve had recounted a particularly awesome moment from his campaign, and all Eddie had wanted to do was drag him right to the bedroom.

Steve pulls away.

"Get in." He said, opening the car door for Eddie like the gentleman he is.

And fuck, if this is the reaction he gets for paying attention, then he's definitely doing it more. If he's honest with himself, he should have been doing it from day one, but yeah sometimes he's a bit dense and needs a push in the right direction.

So basketball's boring as shit usually, but when Steve's playing? Hell yeah. He'll even put up with listening about it (and even football), if it puts that smile on Stevie's face. That's the price for dating a jock, he guesses, but it's miniscule, and it's fucking worth it.

[flowercrowngods]

yearning hours (hidden track)

🤍 also on ao3

The city is quiet tonight, dormant long before midnight; weary at its very core, just allowing November’s cold to settle without much of a fight.

Steve should be asleep, too, but he doesn’t want to break the spell he’s under, doesn’t want the heaviness of his eyelids to become something deeper, something stronger, something that will bring an end to this feeling that’s come over him.

Sprawled on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, he just breathes. A steady in and out that‘s been effortless for a few hours now.

The breathes in the gentle dimness of his bedside lamp, inhales the sound of electro pop playing from beside him, playing from another lifetime altogether. He exhales the present, lets go of the thoughts of sleep, of leaving this moment, of moving anytime soon.

I saw your eyes. And you made me smile.

It’s been forever since he listened to this tape. So long, in fact, that he didn’t even know he still had it. Lifetimes passed since last he heard these songs, the synthesisers and guitars, the beat of his heart in tune with the drum of the snare.

Four years. It’s a lifetime. Everything’s a lifetime when the world ends, and ends, and ends. Everything’s a lifetime if you leave parts of yourself behind, unreachable for yourself, but far from untouchable for others.

Everything’s a lifetime if you live in Hawkins, Indiana.

And though it took a while, I was falling in love.

The song washes over him the same way it did four years ago, and yet it settles inside his chest, his gut, his lungs in a way it never did before. It fills him with each inhale, as if daring him to forget again. As if daring him to try.

There are three tapes spread out on the bed beside him, just within reach of his hand that’s hovering over the rewind button of his little radio that’s seen better days but still hasn’t ripped a tape in months.

Once the song begins to fade, he presses the button, the dim light now accompanied by the familiar clicking and whirring and the thoughts of seven, eight, nine, ten, as Steve is counting the seconds before he has to press play again to listen to Space Age Love Song again.

He exhales a drawn-out breath as, with another definitive click, the song starts over. Gentle snares fill his room. And Steve breathes.

I saw your eyes.

And he smiles.

And you made me smile.

Because somehow.

For a little while

He’s thinking about Eddie.

I was falling in love.

And for a moment, while he breathes and stares and listens, that’s okay. For a moment, for the duration of this song, for the lifetimes it survived and the ones yet to come, that’s okay. The waves of the music carry him through time and space, carry him to a world where it’s safe. Where the safest thing to do about your heart’s desires is not lying in bed and staring at the ceiling.

The phone rings. It’s midnight and the phone rings. Steve is floating, anchored and weighed down by his skin and bones, breathing himself back into reality, because the phone rings.

He looks up and reaches for the landline phone on his bedside table, the movement sluggish to his heavy limbs.

The words take a while to form, but he’s aware that the other person can hear the music playing, they’ll know he’s here, they’ll know he listens. They’ll know, hopefully, that he’ll talk soon. He just… He just needs a second.

But then it’s only silence that meets him, and Steve frowns. Just as he’s about to open his mouth and ask, he can hear a breathy little, “Oh. Shit.”

And he blinks. Swallows. Leans up on one arm to fight the floating.

“Eddie?”

“Uhh. Hi, Stevie.”

There’s a tremor to Eddie’s voice that Steve can make out even through the music he’s reaching out to turn down the volume now. Alarm shoots through him, accompanied by protectiveness and the readiness to take ok the world. For Eddie. Again.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” Too fast. Too breathy. Too frantic, and Steve can hear the clinking of his rings against the plastic of Wayne’s landline phone. He can see Eddie wrapping the cord around his fingers, can picture him chewing on it, too. “I just— uh, I… I cleaned my room? Rearranged it, too. I really like how… Look, ignore this, okay? I realised that this was kinda dumb the moment you picked up the phone.”

Steve leans back again, his head hitting the pillow as he lets Eddie’s voice wash over him. He sounds nice against the low music still coming from beside Steve. Eddie always sounds nice. Steve kinda wants to listen to him forever most days.

“What’s dumb, Ed?”

A snort, and Steve wants to feel that breath tingling his cheek, or neck, or throat. He wants to touch that smile of self-deprecation he knows spreads Eddie’s lips now, and wants to turn it into something more genuine. More vulnerable. More his.

“Calling you at midnight and telling you that i cleaned my room.”

“And rearranged it,” Steve adds, helpless against the gentleness of his voice as he says it.

“Yeah. That.”

He smiles, his eyes finding their spot on the ceiling again as he reaches for the radio again, pressing rewind, because his heart is a fluttery little thing tonight, and he wants to bask in it for a moment. Wants to be allowed to pretend.

Something old washing into something new. The feeling fits well with the others, a tenderness inside his chest where Eddie lives, surrounded now by the song, wave after wave, and with the memory and possibility and chance of different lifetimes, different phone calls, different Steves.

“I don’t think that’s dumb, Ed,” he says after a while. “I like it when you tell me things, midnight or not.“

“I… That’s cool.” Silence. But an Eddie kind of silence that it’s always only a prelude. Always. For bigger things the longer it is. And Steve’s counted all the way to seven before Eddie, quietly, secretly, says, “I like telling you things. Midnight or not.”

The smile that splits Steve’s face is almost one that needs to be hidden in the pillows, with the way the world sees it as a challenge when he smiles. But he doesn’t hide it. Midnight smiles don’t need hiding.

“So tell me about your room.”

Another silence, only five beats this time, but it leaves Steve yearning for Eddie to fill it nonetheless.

“Do…“ One, two, three, four, f— “Do you wanna come over and see?”

And now it’s Steve who’s silent. Steve whose heart is beating so loud he forgets to count the seconds, forgets to fill the silence, forgets just for a while that he’s still only pretending, he’s still only longing, not reaching.

And still, still still, he asks, “Right now?”

Eddie’s answer is no more than a breath. “Yeah?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Okay. He wants to stay in bed longer, wants to cradle the phone to his ear and listen to Eddie. To his breathy little voice, like he knows about midnight smiles, and even more about midnight whispers.

He’s still floating in the car, having grabbed one of the tapes from his bed, letting the more synthetic snares and guitars fill the air he breathes that’s beginning to smell vaguely of leather and tobacco and soil and Eddie.

The more you live, the more you love. Or so they say.

It settles in his arms the same way the car’s gentle thrumming does; this certainty. The longing. The love.

He’s not even sure when it happened, only that he can’t get rid of it now. Doesn’t want to get rid of it, most days. Not yet. He’ll spend the rest of his life letting it go, but he wants to keep it for a while yet.

Especially with Eddie calling him at midnight just… Just to tell him something that makes him happy. Obviously, obviously makes him happy. So happy he wants to tell Steve about it. Like Steve is worthy of that, like he is the obvious choice.

It makes him giddy. Makes him float. Makes him turn up the volume, letting it almost ruin the moment, fragile as it is — but only almost.

He makes it to the trailer park in no time, finding Eddie already outside. Waiting for him.

No amount of inhaling and exhaling is enough to save Steve now, not with Eddie approaching his car before he even comes to a stop. Not with Eddie reaching out to open his door, looking at him, face painted in the light and shadow of the little overhead light of the Beemer.

“Hi,” Eddie says. “I cleaned my room.”

“And rearranged it,” Steve adds, an echo of earlier, the same smile on his lips, but Eddie doesn’t smile. Eddie just nods, frantic.

“That, yeah. But… I cleaned my room. And you’re here. Because I told you. Because I cleaned my room.”

Steve blinks, loosening his seatbelt and slowly, so as not to spook Eddie, he gets out of the car. Comes to a stop in front of Eddie, the door still open behind him.

“Eddie, what—“

“You’re here,” Eddie says again. “You like it when I tell you things.”

Steve nods, the cold November air not enough to save him; he still inhales Eddie, still exhales a longing so deep his lungs feel like they’ll never fill again.

“And you like telling me things,” he says, because Eddie’s gone silent, his wide eyes still frantic, and Steve wants to help.

“You’re here,” Eddie repeats again, like it has a meaning that Steve’s not catching.

He nods, then, heart and mind racing alike. “Because you asked.”

But Eddie shakes his head, still rooted to the spot, still keeping his eyes on Steve like he’s afraid he might disappear if he so much as blinks. Steve wouldn’t think of it. Will stay as long as Eddie wants to look at him.

“Because you want to. Because you like it. Because… Because I cleaned my room. And the first thing I wanted to do was tell you. And you listened. And you told me it’s not dumb, because you like it when I tell you things, and— Steve. Steve.”

He can’t look at those wide eyes anymore, not when he’s been found out, not when the heaviness is returning, weighing on his limbs and his heart, telling him to panic and to run and—

“Steve.” A whisper. A hand on his cheek. Not to tip his head up. Just to rest there. Just to stay. “I wanna tell you things all the time. The stupidest, littlest things. I wanna tell you because you’ll listen and because you’ll— you’ll make me feel like… Like this. Because you’re here! You’re here when all I did was clean my room. At midnight. Way past midnight, actually. I’m… I… God, I just.” An exhale, and it sounds a lot like Steve’s. “I love you.”

Steve’s head snaps up, his eyes meeting Eddie’s again. Searching for the lie, searching for the dream, searching for one of those lifetimes that aren’t meant for him. But he finds none. He finds sincerity; scared, vulnerable sincerity, like Eddie is a little bit insane with it.

Like he’s faring no better than Steve.

“You… You do?” Eddie nods, frantic again, the hand falling from Steve’s cheek so he can pick and bite at his nails. Unthinkingly, Steve reaches for his hands to hold them in his own. “I— I’m…”

“It’s okay, you don’t— uh, you don’t have to say anything. Really. Please don’t, actually, I’m just… You’re here. I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe you—“

“Ed,” Steve whispers. “Eddie.” They sallow in unison, the air charged between them but clearing in Steve’s vision now, carrying him no longer like someone floating along the tides yearning.

He’s not floating, he’s not lifetimes away. He’s here. He’s here.

“Can I… Can I try something? Can I kiss you? Please?” he adds in a whisper.

And it is with that same whisper, with that same shared breath, that Eddie says, “Please.”

The kiss is chaste, but it’s enough. Enough to survive the night, enough to be not the beginning and not the end, but something comfortably settled in the in-between.

When they break apart, Steve doesn’t let Eddie go far as he pulls him into his arms rather immediately. Just to hold him there. To let his mind catch up. To bask.

And it’s only after a while of breathing each other in, their hands roaming over the other boy’s back in ways more gentle than they were ever allowed to before, that Eddie breaks the silence.

“I really do wanna show you my room, though, that wasn’t a ruse.” He mumbles the words against the side of Steve’s throat, and Steve — still unsure of his footing — laughs and brushes a careful kiss against Eddie’s temple that leaves him with goosebumps.

“Ready when you are,” he says, though it’s almost a sigh. An exhale. Exhaling Eddie, and inhaling his warm smile and the smell of his hair. Steve leans in for another kiss to Eddie’s forehead, lingering this time.

In and out. It’s all Eddie.

Ring-clad fingers find their ways in between his own, and then Eddie tugs him — gently, like he’s afraid Steve will break if he moves too quickly; or maybe it’s Eddie’s who’ll break — toward the trailer.

Inside it’s warm, the lights are low, and the only thing illuminating Eddie’s room down the hall is a black string of warm white lights wandering along his walls and in between photos and pictures and drawings and posters that litter his wall.

And in the middle of it all, there’s Eddie. Smiling at him, giddy and gentle and genuine and so, so pretty. And Steve knows, then. Eddie’s room has never looked better.

(the songs are space age love song, and the more you live, the more you love by a flock of seagulls)

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark On Me, Part 3

Summary: you keep pushing his buttons...

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, degradation, dirty talk, non con/dub con, spanking, inspecting, spitting, fingering, squirting, oral sex (F receiving), skinny dipping, pussy job, just the tip, a bit of cream pie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 7.1K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*Tattooed Steve edit by @randomagnes0210

*Dividers created by @firefly-graphics

You take a long look out the window, your eyes casting around in every direction until you see him. Bucky gives you a cheeky grin, holding up his hand, and you back away from the window, hiding yourself. Annoyed at not even being able to walk around in your panties in your apartment if you wanted to. He was always going to tell Steve. You couldn’t escape him. And staying cooped up in your apartment was thoroughly starting to piss you off.

It was supposed to be your break in between semesters, and you should be having fun. But no. Instead your every move is followed. You have a feeling Bucky even writes down what you do with time stamps just to let Steve know. He was there when you wake up, there when you leave your apartment, and even there when you go to sleep.

Did he sleep? Was he going to go crazy with a lack of sleep? You pace around the apartment, tempted to open your curtain, and put on a show for Bucky, just to piss Steve off. It’s what he deserved after he did what he did.

When he did what he did…

You hadn’t stopped thinking about that night. The moment when you had forgotten about everything around you, and just let him take you to a different world. A world of blinding pleasure. You had forgotten your name. There has been a numbness in you since that night. And you wanted him to help you live again, and also feared the things he was making you feel.

You ignored the frequent text messages from Steve. At night the messages got filthier, and you wanted to scream in your pillow. While his face was buried between your thighs, and he was doing whatever he did with his tongue, and even his teeth.

“No!” You scream out loud as your hands start to shake. What was wrong with you? Why was you letting this man lead you to temptation and right to a shortcut to hell?

You wanted him. You feared him. You hated him. You need him to…to do something. You didn’t want to say it, and couldn’t say it. This was new. All of it was new, and you didn’t understand Steve’s strong obsession with you. You! You? What was so special about you? Why did he want you? What was his end goal? Was it only to fuck you and then leave?

Taking another look out the window just to find Bucky in the same spot, sucking on a cigarette. He would know, Bucky knew everything. Putting on some coffee you leave your apartment, and walk out to Bucky, who stands up straight immediately. Hand at the phone in his pocket while he looks at you questioningly.

“Don’t call him,” Bucky struggles with your request. You were not where you were supposed to be. You hadn’t even left this town, and ventured back home. “Have some coffee with me. I feel bad that you’re out here all alone, all day and all night. It isn’t fair.”

“I have my orders,” his hand still taps along his pocket, and the last thing you want is for him to call Steve. You couldn’t handle Steve being in your home, and your place of peace.

“Some coffee would be good for you, come on,” you go to reach for his hand, but he stands up completely straight, and his eyes fix behind you. “I’m sorry.”

“Dove, you should know by now not to touch me; ever. Especially without him present. I’m running out of lives, and I don’t want to die today,” you give a little bite to your lip, your feet shuffling around nervously, wondering if you had pushed too far. You weren’t an idiot, even if you wanted to play as such.

Bucky wants to roll his eyes at just how perfect you are for Steve. How you had enough fight in you to keep things interesting, but also his undying love for innocence. For the chase, and you were running; sprinting away from him even if your body was yelling for him to come back. You just weren't so fast enough that Steve couldn’t catch you. “Fine. Coffee, but you deal with the consequences.”

“Consequences? For having coffee?” Oh you did love to play this silly little girl game. Judging by the swishing around of your thighs, you knew exactly what the consequences would be.

He leans close enough into you, whispering just slightly off from your ear, “Don’t play dumb, little bird,” before heading straight towards your building. “So?” He pauses, turning to look at you when you don’t move. “Are we having coffee?”

“Yes,” you answer with such certainty that it scares you.

“I see why he likes her,” Bucky mumbles, waiting for you to take the lead. He didn’t have to contact Steve. Steve would look down at his phone, and see that Bucky was in your apartment. Would see Bucky in your space, but with you. Alone. He could already feel Steve’s anger prickling on his skin once he realized where he was, and just who he was with. You were just dangerous enough to yourself, but also for Steve.

“So…what’s yours and Steve’s story?” You pour him his coffee, sitting at the bar, and push out a chair for him. He doesn’t take the chair, but instead lifts himself up on the counter. “You and him seem to go back further than him and Sam.”

“Steve trusts very few people. Sam and I are two of them. But you are correct in thinking that Steve and I have known each other longer. Sam has been more than loyal to the both of us,” your head tilts to the side, listening to Bucky. It was almost normal. Steve was anything but safe though. However, he had people that believed in something. Believed in him and whatever empire he was building.

“Why drugs?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he gives you a wink. Lifting his arm up to look at his watch with a smirk. “Why were you buying?”

“You know why. I needed to stay up to cram for finals. Math isn’t exactly my strong suit,” he cocks a brow up, while he drinks his coffee, and you almost feel guilty for staring at him. It was silly because you weren’t with Steve. You could look at whoever you pleased.

“Have you ever tried any other drugs?” Shaking your head rapidly, you cast your eyes to anything in the kitchen. Making silly notes about what you needed to do to keep it clean. Wondering where the cameras were in here. “Was that your first time?”

“Yes. I’ve always just taken my medication as it’s prescribed.”

“Ever been drunk?” You had piqued his interest. Bucky was just wasting time because Steve was already enroute, and he was about to be yelled at, but you were getting far more than screams. “Hmm?”

“No,” your voice whispers, and you dare to look back up at him. “I just recently became of age.”

“Wait…you’ve never had anything to drink?” You shake your head no. There couldn't’ be that much that you had missed from getting drunk. Alcohol stunk, and it was illegal for you to have consumed before now. “Wow, you really are…”

You jump off the stool, your mug shattering on the tile as Steve bursts through the door. His nostrils flaring, and his skin looked like it was on fire with the way his muscles are tensing up. Backing up from him with every step he takes closer to you.

Taking his eyes off you only to glare at Bucky, “I’ll deal with you later. Dovey,” he tsks, turning to look at you. He is too calm with his words, but the way he slung that door open, he was anything but calm. He was pissed off at you.

“You’ve been a bad bad girl,” you can only squeak, as you look around the apartment. “We both know there's no hiding places in here. I’ve looked at the blueprints, little bird. Where are you gonna run to?”

“Steve, don’t,” you gulp, flinching away as he tries to grab you.

“Do you remember what I told you about your tears?” You shake your head no. You couldn’t think. There is a searing light in your eyes and loud ringing in your ears that was keeping you from thinking straight. He had mentioned something about tears, but exactly what you can’t recall.

“When you cry all I can think about is splitting you open for the first time. It will hurt, Dovey. You will cry, and I will lick the tears off your cheeks, as I wait for that tight little cunt to stop screaming from the stretch.’

“Steve, please,” you tremble, but he moans in return. He mistook your pleads as begging. “I’m not begging!”

“And I’m not asking,” you scream as you dart past him, but his inky hand grabs onto your wrist, pulling you into his hard chest, and nearly knocking the breath out of you. Covering your wails with his hand as he hauls you over to the couch.

Letting himself sit down before he lays your belly over his lap. “I am thankful that you wear skirts,” hearing the malice in his voice only makes your entire body shiver with anticipation of what is coming next. “Bucky, close the door, while I have a chat with my little bird.”

“Steve, I’m sorry,” you hiccup. Wiggling around, you try to get off his lap, but it wasn’t helping. “I don’t know what I did…Bucky?”

“Don’t call for him. He protects you when I’m not around, he doesn’t protect you from me. Did he or did he not say you would have consequences for being alone with him?” You whimper as you nod your head, and you get a swift smack on your ass. “Words, Dove.”

“Yes, sir,” tears start flowing down your face, and it just angers you. This stupid man that rushed into your life has you draped over his lap like a toddler, and was intent in spanking you.

“And not only did you bring him in here with you alone, you then had the audacity to talk about me, hmm?” You don’t answer fast enough, and he smacks you again, but this time on the other cheek. Flattening his hand out, he rubs over the stinging skin.

“I didn’t…I-I-I didn’t know.”

“If you want to know anything about me, then you better fucking ask me. That sneaky bullshit will not fly with me. Do you understand?” Another smack on your ass with an even more soothing rub this time. “Can you fucking hear?” One more slap.

“Yes, sir. I under…understand. No!” He places his elbow on your back as he lifts up your skirt. Chuckling when each hand pulls apart your cheeks. “Steve, stop! Don’t look! Don’t!”

“Why not, Dovey?” He moans, leaning down closer he inhales deeply. What you assume was a pinky finger flicks up and down your cotton covered slit. “Your cunt is crying for me. Just as hard as those pathetic tears rolling down your cheeks. You know why we work, Dovey? I enjoy this just as much as you do.”

“I don’t,” he has your panties pulled down in one second. Each hand stretching your cheeks wide as he gazes at your virgin hole. Everything is too quiet as he stares at you in the most vulnerable state you have ever been in. Sure that Bucky was watching your core as hard as Steve.

Seconds go by that feels like hours. And then a drip of Steve’s saliva flows through your lips. “You’re a fucking liar,” his voice cutting deep inside of you. “Why are you lying? That tight light hole is clenching, Dove. She wants a big cock to fuck her so hard and deep, huh? Hehe,” he looks up at Bucky, pulling you even further apart.

“See, Buck. She’s throbbing just thinking about me fucking her. Look,” Bucky has been a target of Steve’s anger many times. And there was no right answer here. Steve would be offended if he didn’t look. “Dove, I’m going to fuck you so deep you feel me in your belly.”

“Oh,” Bucky tries to sound interested as your walls flutter around nothing. Searching for something to squeeze tightly. Pulsing in vain. But something more catches his eyes, “How are you going to fit in there?”

“Oh, I’ll make it fit,” he spits down to your center again as two fingers roam through your slick. Coating themselves in your juices, and you clench your eyes close. Biting on your lip as he plunges two thick fingers into your warmth, and you lift your head up sobbing his name.

“That’s just two fingers, pretty girl,” pumping his fingers in and out of you he moans at the sound of your wetness. Lewd squelching sounds scream into the quiet apartment. “See how easy I fit in there when you have a sloppy cunt like this? It’s because I am made for you, and this is my pussy. I wish you could see your pussy cling onto my fingers. She doesn't’ want to let me go. She is weeping out onto your legs just thinking about me, Dovey.”

He speeds up his motions, curling his fingers and he hits a spot inside of you that makes orbs of fuzzy light pop up in your vision. Sounds you have never heard before leak out of your mouth, and your body chases his fingers. Reacting and needing him to stay deep inside of you. And you seek out him to constantly fill you whole.

Hugging his digits so tightly that you can’t help but to pant out his name, “I know, baby. It’s what you’ve needed. You needed to be punished for acting like a sneaky bitch. But it gets you so worked up. Your body craves this attention. Has been begging for this, huh? You like this, Dovey?”

My god, you loved it. Thoughts just didn’t even register because of the paralyzing pleasure. You just take it. Take every bit of his fingers. Eyes rolling in the back of your head as he scissors himself deep inside of you. Pressing a thumb on your clit, and you speak in tongue.

Euphoria you have never felt. Your cum coats his fingers, but it only eggs him on. Going harder into you. The only thing for you to hold is his leg, and you dig your fingers into him. He hisses as he pounds into you. Not stopping until you're screaming his name, and you squirt out your release. And Steve moans, delighted at how messy you are.

“Good fucking girl!” Jerking his fingers out, he grabs you at the hips. Lifting your bottom up to him, and he buries himself between your thighs. Laving and slurping up every bit of your release. Moaning at your tastes as he sucks every bit of it up.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, but as soon as it starts, he stops. Steve pulls apart your body, and stares at the tiny gape of your hole. You could take so much more, and he was tempted to add a third finger next time. But he wanted more than anything for you to cry when he bottoms out into you. Addicted to something he hadn’t properly got to experience. And that was all of you.

His sight never leaves your cunt as he tells Bucky to pack you a bag because the two of you were going on a short little trip. Bucky nods, knowing exactly where Steve was going to take you. He whispers a prayer for you. If Steve had it his way he was going to fuck this ‘brat’ right out of you.

Bucky wouldn’t call you a brat, but you knew what you were doing. Driving Steve crazy enough to both pleasure and humiliate you. One day you would learn, you didn’t have to push his buttons to get him to play with you. You had this power over Steve that neither of you understood. And Bucky had never witnessed anything quite like this.

“Dovey, if I hear you talk back to me once on this drive, you’re going to ride the rest of the way with two of my fingers in your cunt, and both your titties hanging out of your shirt. Please tell me that you understand.”

His hold loosens on you, and he gives you a moment to sit up. Waiting on you to roll your drenched panties back up your body, and you nod. You couldn’t look at him because he had seen such a private part of you, and showed Bucky, “Yes, sir.”

“Good, girl. You’re learning. Seems like you’re starting to break. Buck, you make sure Sam understands that the two of you are in charge,” Steve holds out his hand as he stands up. Waiting on you to take hold before he leads the two of you to the door.

“Steve, take it easy on her. She’s not ready,” he whispers to his friend, but Steve returns his warning with a smile. He was going to do whatever the fuck he wanted with you. You wanted to know about him, so he was going to give you the opportunity to ask. If you could focus. He’d tell you everything you need to know. He just hopes it’s the right questions.

“Steve, I don’t want to be here,” your lip trembles as he steps out of the car. Stalking over to your side while you stare at only one thing. One cabin. In the middle of fucking nowhere. It had been miles since you even saw the las

“Steve, no!” Screaming as he opens your door. There isn’t any flight left in you. It is just complete shutting down. He holds out his hand for you to take, but you violently shake. He was going to murder you here. “Steve, don’t. Don’t!”

He gives a growl as his hands try to wrangle you out of the vehicle, and you thrash around. If you were going to die, at least you’d die trying. “Please, just…”

“You wanted to ask questions, now get out of the fucking car!” Pulling you a bit harder, you let your body turn to dead weight, and you drop to the ground with a hard thud. Blinking your eyes and coughing as you try to catch your breath.

“Would you shut up?” His voice rattles, hauling you up over his shoulder. “What exactly do you think I’m going to do to you? We’re going in the fucking cabin, and you’re going to ask your stupid damn questions.”

“B-b-b-but we’re alone! You’re going to…” dropping you onto the couch, his body hovers over you. Those blackened with ink arms caging you. He rolls his hips, and his hardening cock skims over your core, and you squeal.

“You like that, huh? You like feeling me on you?” His breath is hot on your skin as he does it again. “We’re all alone, Dovey, and no one can hear your screams when you take every inch of me.”

“I’m not b-b-begging.”

“Aw, but aren’t you?” Readjusting himself, his hand cups your covered core. The face of pure sadistic torture grins down at you. “You’re so hot and wound up you’re going to burn the cabin down, Dovey. You’ve ruined these panties, you're so wet. Quit letting your mind take control, and trust me.”

“I’ll never trust you,” it is something you felt deep within your soul. How could you trust someone that was like him? Someone that got off on your embarrassment, and enjoyed showing it to everyone. “You just want to use me.”

A flash of tattoos comes at your face, and his fingers dig into your cheeks as he grabs you tight. Forcing you to quit looking around, and look straight at him. “Dovey, if I wanted to use you, I would have had you that first night. I did you a kindness in marking you up. People know not to fuck with Steve Rogers. You’re just the stupid girl who came into my lair thinking you would outsmart me. Do you realize how many times I could have fucked you by now? I could have put the cameras on us, and let the club watch as I took the gift that could never be returned. And you’re the brat that wants to keep pushing my fucking buttons.”

You whimper as his weight starts to settle on your body. His monstrosity of a cock pressing into your center, and a flash of blinding light covers your vision, and all you can do is feel. Feel his pulse through his cock as it pounds right at your entrance, and the way his breath blows out over your face as he chuckles. You hate him.

“Sweetheart, it would loosen you up in more ways than one. You need this as much as I do. You’re denying us the ultimate pleasure when all you have to do is let me squeeze through your walls, break them down, too.”

Gulping, you keep perfect eye contact as your head twists back and forth, whispering out, “No.”

A rumble climbs up his chest, and the vibrations go right to your weeping cunt as he sits up. Putting his weight on his heels, and kneeling before you. His body keeps your legs wide, and he pulls up your skirt, watching your covered pussy as he pulls his shirt off.

He is a god amongst men. Rippling cords of muscle stretch over his chest, and it was accentuated perfectly with the most beautiful and intricate designs. The man clearly enjoyed art, but also pain. No inch of his chest wasn’t touched with a needle.

While you’re in a trance with his tattoos, Steve undoes his pants, and gives them a little tug down. “Oh my god!” You screech as his monster dick flops out of his pants. The only thing not covered in tattoos, and right at the tip. “You’re pierced?”

“If it scares you that much, our first time, I’ll take it out. It’s quite pleasurable for you,” Steve wraps his fist around the base, and gives the growing member a few pumps, “You can’t take your eyes off it. Have you ever seen a dick before?”

“Yeah. Plenty of times.”

“Tell me whose dick you’ve seen, little bird.”

“Why?” You look up at him, unblinking. There is a fire that is burning all the way from the pit of his stomach to his eyes. Looking almost demonic as his pupils spread out so wide.

“So I can kill them. No dick that has touched your body is going to stay alive,” he tilts his head to the side, smiling when you finally look up at his face. “I am very serious, sweetheart. Tell me. Their names.”

“I don’t know — I don't know their names,” he tenses in front of you, and you cover your eyes. “They were on the internet,” the walls of the cabin rattle with his booming laughter. While you’re trying to melt away, he runs the tip of his length over your panties, and you flinch. Trying to sit yourself up, but he pushes you back down.

“You mean to tell me I wasted showing you my cock, and it’s the first in life one you’ve ever seen? Dove, no wonder you’re on edge. You just about came undone from my tip at your panties, or maybe it was the piercing. You like the way this feels, my sweet little angel. Come on,” standing up, he fully gets undressed, proving that yes, he was pretty much covered in tattoos. His face and his dick are the exception. “They’re too pretty, darling. Let’s go.”

“Where?” It’s a struggle to sit up with the high emotions you have been feeling. Wobbly legs keep you from standing too quickly. There’s a dizziness that you feel in every part of your body.

“Bucky packed you a bathing suit, put it on, or join me in the hot tub naked. You need to relax,” there was a shift in his voice. Typically there is some grit to it. As if it was constantly filled with anger. Now it sounds — normal. He stands watching you as you try to process what it is you wanted to do. “Do I need to turn around for you to change? I wouldn’t advise running. There’s nobody here for miles. And if you run again, my patience and kindness will be gone, and I can’t promise what I will do.”

“Can I go get my bag?” He nods his head, gesturing for you to go out to the car, and you take careful steps. Counting each inhale and exhale as you walk to the car. Looking back at Steve who remains calm. He dares you to run just so he can capture you in his snares, but you won’t.

This time, you want to listen. Especially if he was going to grant you with asking questions. Bucky sucked at packing your bag. A shirt, panties, and the skimpiest bathing suit you owned. At least he remembered a toothbrush. Feeling a bit more irritated now, you walk back into the cabin, and gawk at Steve.

“Can you turn around?”

“Good girls say please.”

“And I didn’t,” giving you a crooked smile, he turns around. Giving you the smallest privacy to undress.

“I bet it feels nice to get out of those wet panties,” you ignore him. It did feel nice. Everything had started to stick to you, and it was like peeling wet clothes off. “That skin would look really pretty with a needle in it.”

“Why are you like this?” Looking up, you notice a mirror pointed right at you. Steve saw everything. Saw you undress, and didn’t look away.

“Tell me I didn’t make you so wet that you had to use your clothes to wipe your honey off your legs. We’re getting in a hot tub, Dove, it’ll wash right off.”

“Do you ever give privacy?”

“No. But you do have some nice tits. Let’s go,” Steve reaches back to give you a little tug, but you shake your head no, pointing at his dick. “Oh, I don’t get in the hot tub with clothes on. The anaconda will be underwater, you won’t be able to see him.”

“Clarence,” he scrunches his face up as you walk past him, and out on the back porch, assuming that’s where this hot tub was. You just need to not have that thing staring at you right now. “That’s what I’m going to call your penis; Clarence.”

“Clarence? Why not something like The Hammer or…”

“Clarence,” it’s what it was going to be. If he wanted you to look at it, you were going to give it a name that wasn’t so imposing. Steve walks past you, and settles himself into the pool. Giving a soft moan at how the heat was working out his own tension.

“Is it hot?”

“It is, but it’s not as hot as your tight little cunt. How’s she feeling?” Don’t answer him. Allow him his cocky little comments, and do what is asked. Make this easy and unpainful, and you’d feel better for it.

You wait on Steve to settle back into the water, and his eyes roam over your body hungrily. Watching as each inch of it gets swallowed by the heat, and he chuckles when you sit on the opposite side of him. Looking at anything that wasn’t Steve. He cracks his neck, and uses his thick fingers to trace around his lip, and he just smirks at you.

“I don’t like people who go behind my back.”

“I didn’t,” you finally meet his gaze, and it’s hard to look away. He is even sexier with water lapping up against his skin. The same skin that was setting your body ablaze. He had seared into every part of you, and your body craved him. Needed him to touch you.

“Didn’t Bucky tell you that there would be consequences?”

“Yeah, but…”

“I’m talking,” he interrupts, wading over closer to you. Both hands plant themselves on either side of you, and he stands up out of the water. His giant cock wet and bouncing right at your face. “You continue to talk over me, and I’ll slip something in your mouth to keep you quiet. Bucky warned you about the consequences of taking him into your apartment without me. You disobeyed. You chose to ignore him. Playing your stupid fucking childish game of being too naive to realize what you acting up does to me.”

He removes one hand from the back of the hot tub, and grips his cock. Rocking it right at your lips, but never touching you. “I can see it in your eyes how curious you are to know what a real cock feels like. I can show you.”

“I’m not begging,” you cross your legs, clenching them tight together. Refusing to let your pussy get you in any more trouble.

“Yet. Your body is, but your mouth is stubborn. Maybe I should give her a little taste. Come on, suck my dick and join me in the underworld.”

“Continue your threats.”

You whimper when his low growling laugh vibrates at your core. Wondering how he was able to make you feel him in a place he had hardly touched. “What do you want to know about me? I’ll give you five questions to ask, so you better make them count. That is going behind my back, little bird. You want to act all innocent, but you want to know what makes me tick. Why did I become who I am? So ask.”

“Why? Why do you do this?”

“I’m going to count that as two. Be careful next time,” sitting beside you, his hand runs up and down your thigh, and without realizing it, your legs start pulling apart. Giving him ample space to get to your cunt.

“I do this because I can control what’s out there. These streets ran rampant with cheap drugs cut with who the fuck knows. I sell pure. It costs more, but you won’t die from a damn accidental overdose because your drug of choice was laced with something. Three more.”

Your mouth drops open when his hand settles as high up on your thigh as possible sliding down, and rubs over the apex of your thigh, but never where your body truly wants it. You even lean back further, granting him more access, but his fingers don’t drift around. “How…why the playground?”

“You really fucking suck at this. There’s two more. You’re down to one question after this.”

“You’re fucking distracting me!” He grabs you up, placing you in his lap. Your body facing the same way as you. Using his legs to lock your own in place. Moving your bottoms to the side before pressing his dick right in between your pussy lips. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

“You want to say fuck, you better make sure my dick is so deep inside you that you feel me in your filthy little mouth. I will not give you another chance, Dove. I mean it. I won’t wait for you to be blubbering, and crawling on your knees as you beg for me to be inside. I will take it. Is this your tactic, Dove? I don’t want to take. I want you to fully give that to me. You are so hot and slippery, you’re ready, but are you ready for me to have you down on your knees?”

“Please…” what were you asking him for? Why was he able to make you melt and repulse you simultaneously?

“Please just put it in there?” You shake your head no, and his mouth attacks your neck. Kissing and sucking at the sensitive column, while your hips buck up and down. Allowing his sinful dick to roam through your folds. His tip knocks against your clit, and you lean your head back against Steve.

“Easy, baby. You’re going to make yourself pass out before we get to the good part. That’s my playground. I have fond memories of bullies throwing me around the yard. If it wasn’t for Bucky, I would have died there. I promised myself that not only would I survive, but I was going to be bigger and meaner than any of those pieces of shit, and they would all cower just hearing my name.”

“Steve. Steve!” He is only holding his dick up against your body, it is you that is moving, grinding on him and searching for more, and terrified to have it. But he feels like heaven. He hadn’t even entered inside of you, and you are a mess.

“One more question, Dove. Be a good girl, and ask your pathetic little question since you need to know about the big bad drug lord that is following you around, and becoming more and more obsessed with you. Go on.”

“Why me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He is marking every inch of your neck with his filthy mouth. Yet again making sure that everyone knew that you were taken. And he would kill someone that would just look at you. Willing to murder anyone who’s cock you had seen. Even online porn couldn’t prepare you for this.

“I love challenges. I have this pretty little bird that is dying to be fucked deep and hard, but because of her upbringing or some shit, is denying herself pleasure. You need someone like me,” his voice starts going up an octave, and you grind on him faster. Harder. Both of you are needy and searching for something.

“That’s it, Dovey. I’m…I’m,” he holds your lips apart with two fingers, and presses his spongy tip in your entrance, and as soon as you are screaming at the intrusion, his cum spurts through you. Most of it spilling out, and mixing with the water, but some of it is a glorious warmth that you loathe.

He holds you in place, keeping you from squirming around as he looks down into the water, “I could do it you know. You’re breathing heavily, and this isn’t even the painful part. I’m getting tired of you acting like a little bitch. Do you see how easily I can take, Dove? Do you see that I have you right where I want you, but I’m giving you enough grace and power to tell me when our first time is?”

“But…you’re inside me…Steve, I wasn’t begging.”

“And I’m not fucking. I’m not even an inch inside. Enjoy my seed in you, Dove. Pretty soon it’ll be second nature to take my cock, and be filled with me. You wanted the consequences, this is it. But next time, it’ll be so much worse.”

“Just fuck me then,” you spit out, but he lifts you off him, and stands up. This time rubbing his tip over your pouty lips. You notice the bit of change in him, but keep your mouth shut. Letting him paint you with the remnants of the two of you.

“I’m no longer hard, and you’re not begging. But soon, Dove, soon you’ll wake up to me thrusting into you. You’ll sit on my lap, warming my cock while I distribute the drugs. You will be on all fours at the table, letting me inspect that greedy cunt before I plunge into her, and Bucky gets to see me fill your belly with my child. Get out of this tub, and let's go to bed.”

“Why are you so mean?”

“Why are you?” The audacity! You aren’t mean. “You’re mean to yourself, and I never said I was nice. Get out of this fucking tub, and let’s get in the bed.”

He doesn’t even turn around to look at you as he walks back into the cabin. There was no escape, and you are coming to realize that everyday that you are with him. Were you the problem here? Would it be so bad to let him inside of you?

Questions abound quickly in your mind, and you couldn’t process them long enough to answer. Allowing your body to go on autopilot just for tonight. Even if you are angry at what he just did. But are you? Are you really denying something that was living in between heaven and hell?

“Get in the bed,” Steve growls, pulling back the covers. “I have on underwear,” you gulp as you look around the room. Bucky hadn’t given you much thought to pack your clothes. Barely anything was in your bag.

“Here,” Steve says, tossing you a shirt. And you’re just stubborn enough, and still pissed at him from earlier. Undoing your bathing suit top you let it fall to the floor. Letting Steve angrily stare at your curves, and peaked nipples before letting the bottoms fall.

“You’re pushing me, Dovey,” he growls out. Stunned, and refusing to move. Your skin still damp from the tub. Water drips creating a trail right between your legs. “Dove!”

“Now, you know how it feels,” you’re sure you will pay for that later, but at this moment, it feels like you are taking the power back. You’re choosing to show him your body. Letitng him see how hard your nipples are with desire.

Pulling only his shirt on, you crawl onto the bed, tapping the other side, “Aren’t you going to get in?”

“You didn’t put panties on.”

“But you have on underwear. Seems a fair trade,” he grouses something under his breath, but crawls in behind you, pulling you completely flush with his body. Easing a thigh in between your leg, and pressing it firmly against your core. “Steve?”

“It’s my turn to ask questions,” he ignores your hands that try to push his hard leg away from you. Tense in his embrace, but he starts melting into you. Snuggling his face right behind your ear, and you hate the hold he has over you. “Why are you a virgin?”

“Because I haven’t had sex.”

He growls right up next to your ear, and you bite your lip. Hoping that he couldn’t feel how amazing that sound felt. “Why haven’t you had sex?”

The real question. You didn’t have a smart remark to get you out of it. He wanted the truth, and you weren’t ready to give it to him. “Because…”

“Because why?”

“That’s three questions, Steve.”

“I don’t care about the others. Just answer that one,” you wiggle around, wanting to actually give him the attention he wanted, but his hold is too great. “What are you doing?”

“I want to look at you while I answer,” immediately he lets you go. Waiting on you to flop to the other side, but he still pulls you in tight to him. Lifting your leg to throw over his hip. “I’ve never had this.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re a virgin. I’m sure if you laid like this with a — boyfriend,” the taste of that word is rotten in his mouth. No one deserved you. He didn’t deserve you, he was just desperate enough to capture you and make you his.

“No…not even that,” he cocks up an eyebrow as his features soften. He was beautiful. You had a crazy feeling no one ever saw this soft side of him. He had spent years creating his drug lord persona, that he forgot what being a lowly human was like.

“Boys aren’t interested in me. All my friends had them, and I…I was the third wheel. Or the fifth. But you get the point. No one has ever told me that I was — that I’m beautiful.”

He lets out an exasperated breath, and drifts closer to you. So close his lips brush against yours when he whispers your name, “You’re beautiful. And I’m no boy. I am a man, and you are mine. You don’t have to worry about all the boys that didn’t see you. The boys that didn’t realize what diamond that they had in front of them. And I won't have to worry about murdering them.”

“I’m thankful for that.”

“Look at me, and tell me that you’re beautiful,” it’s a strange request to make, but when you open your mouth nothing comes out. You were taught not to lie, and you didn’t fully believe it yourself. You had spent most of your life invisible, and no one ever noticed you, until this man came out of the shadows, and was trying to bring you into his own world of darkness.

“Say it. Tell me that you’re beautiful. Dovey, please,” you can’t. You shake your head no, letting your eyes start to close as you try and fight away the tears. He wasn’t going to see you cry. “You’re beautiful. And if I have to be the one to tell you that everyday for you to realize that you are, I will. Maybe that’s my purpose. You’re beautiful. You’re gorgeous. And sexy. And kind. And I want to corrupt you and bring you over into my darkness. Make you my whore, so you realize how irresistible that I find you.”

“Stop. Please, don’t…” he hears the crack in your voice. He would kill everyone that dared to make you feel unworthy. You were worthy. You were everything.

“You’re beautiful, darling. I have perfect vision, and I have seen a lot of women. None are as spectacular as you. Close your eyes, relax in my embrace because I’m never letting you go ever again. You’re stuck with me. I don’t want you to lose your fight, but just for tonight. Let’s call a truce.”

“Fine,” you mumble, finally letting his warmth envelop you as you relax in his embrace. It is an oddly satisfying and safe feeling. You were close enough to smell his musky cologne that lingered on his skin. His heartbeat creating a perfect rhythm to lull you to sleep, “Just for tonight.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Next time I’ll make sure we fall asleep with your cunt squeezing my cock,” insufferable asshole. You started to feel something. Not your body, but you. And then he opened his mouth. But at least it meant you weren’t falling. And you wouldn’t. Not with him.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @theinheriteddutchess @annaallicce @feyfantome @jesevans @tittittoee @bananapiedreams @onclouds999 @darkserenity24 @abbatoirablaze @ashychangeling @identity2212 @mrsevans90 @weirdothatwritess @floralwsloki @thestralwriting 

[96kurtswrld]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚🦋˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡

thinking about steve and plus size reader....

thinking about how steve can't keep his hands off of you, can't stop touching you and kissing you all over, feeling your warmth and your curves beneath his lips and his hands. it drives him crazy, you drive him crazy. he loves it. he loves you.

it starts as something simple really. he comes up behind you while you're working away in the kitchen. gentle hands on your hips, his face in the crook of your neck. a deep inhale as he loosens his grip on your hips and runs his hands up your sides and then down again, lowering to your waist. a low groan against your skin, a small "god. you're beautiful, honey" that vibrates down your spine. gentle nipping kisses on your neck as his other hand presses against your lower tummy, hand spread out as wide as he can get it so he can feel all of you under his palm. the hand on your waist is gripping tight. his kisses travel up from the side of your neck to your soft jawline, soft soft soft lips against the skin. "my beautiful girl" murmured against your cheek, lips pressed there next. his hands continue to roam, one hand slipping up your shirt to feel your tummy without the barrier, soft fingers tracing your stretchmarks gently. he traces each one from the bottom curve of your belly all the way up to the underside of your breast, his hand resting there for a moment. "you're all mine, hm?" he murmurs into your ear, pressing his body against your back. his body is warm against yours, but it's not helping the cold shivers that run through you as his hands touch you. "all for me" he growls, his grip tightening on you, getting a soft exhale of his name out of your mouth. his grip becomes possessive on you, his hand running back down your stomach sloooow so slow, until both of his hands can grip your plush hips, rocking you back into his body. "y'so pretty,"

[d8tl55c]

oh boy !! ! ! ! !!! ! thANK y0u all for the kind words on my last art posts. you all get it and i was/still am so happy about it

as promised, here's some close-ups of the comic for image quality's sake, and other screenshots i rescued from the community whiteboard (and something else)

first up another sketch of mystery gender-ambiguous being. (please send me more name ideas for them if you got one- i like to hear em! (reminder it's the side character that appeared for <10 seconds in AvM Ep. 30))

a few fav scenes

emotional support cwab

they weren't meant for this purpose exactly, but i do have countless "fluffy sticks" loose in my notes and homework sheets from the school years.

papery critter.

even when i wasn't confident in fur or feathers, they helped me practice posing and create some satisfying gradients/flowing poses. (im a sucker for good tail poses) (oh yay! i found a good pic...)

and finally, little sneak peak for you for reading so far ;3

i realized that whiteboardfox is pretty great for my working needs. simple and to the point and all. feels nice with the mouse and the tablet.

so i started hashing out a big project idea just to see if it holds up and

[

several hours later ...

]

oh

oh man

it's a little bigger than i expected

<next>

[morganbritton132]

With the release of the new DnD movie soon and the increase in popularity in the game, how do you think Eddie in this AU feels about it? Does he have long ass rants on Tiktok/his livestreaming platforms?

I think Eddie would be ecstatic.

Not just that people are getting into the game more, but for the movie itself. He’s talked about it enough times on his channel that some people have been like, “…Is this a sponsor?”

Some of his fans think that he’s going to make a cameo in the movie, but he’s not. He just thinks that it looks like a fun movie, made by people who seem like they love the game. And also, Chris Pine.

He’d love to see the movie on opening night, “But SoMeBoDy has other obligations.”

Steve, who agreed to cover for the Girls’ Basketball coach while she’s on maternity leave months ago, just gives Eddie a look because this has been an ongoing conversation, “Go with Dustin.”

“I don’t want to go with Dustin. I want to go with you.”

“Go with Dustin,” Steve repeats, “And then we’ll go see it over the weekend. You can warn me if they use strobe lights.”

I think when Eddie does go on his long ass rant (Monologue. It’s a monologue, Steve), it’s about gatekeeping. People are getting more and more into D&D and there are always a few fans who try to gatekeep. When one of Eddie’s fans mentions that they were discouraged from playing because they don’t know everything about the game, he’s like, “You don’t gotta know everything! All you need is some dice, some friends, and basic math skills. Or a calculator. Anybody telling you that you need more than that is a fraud.”

Another fan says that they’re interested in playing, but their boyfriend says that girls can’t play D&D. Eddie’s just like, “Yeah, dump him. Anybody who says that girls can’t play D&D can talk to Maxine Mayfield-Sinclair. Some of the most insane things shit that has happened in my campaigns have been because of girls. They’ll come up with some of the wildest shit you can think of and save their party’s ass. Tell ‘em hon.”

“You ever see girls play barbies?” Steve asks. “It’s like that but with math. You’ll be alright at it.”

[brainrot-stitch]

Steve saga doodles !! :3

All early steve saga, like before rainbow could talk timeline

Grhh I am so normal about them so so normal...

[hungharrington]

I want Stevie to make me a needy little mess kissing everywhere on my tummy and thighs while purposely avoiding where I need him most

now why would loverboy be such a tease to his favourite person? maybe if they had done something to deserve it…. this one goes out to @boyfriendstevie for indulging my goofy ideas <3 while it’s technically smut it’s like… only hot if u find love hot HAHA fem!reader MDNI this entire blog is 18+

The radio sings idly behind you, midway between the kitchen and the lounge, and when you hear the fridge door close, you think nothing of it.

The novel in your hands has your attention, your body lax as you lay spread lazily across the couch. Your shoes are off and your jean shorts unbuttoned, your bra abandoned many hours ago; a picture of a well-spent Sunday afternoon.

“Someone’s awfully comfortable.”

Steve’s voice sounds from above you and you pull your eyes from the page before you to look up. He’s standing behind the couch, arms crossed, his expression… unreadable.

“Mmhm.” You hum with a happy smile. Laid back, you raise one of your legs and give his arm a poke with your toe. “Wanna come join?”

Steve smiles lightly, rounding the couch til he’s at the end of it. His hairy thighs lean up against the arm of the couch and he hums thoughtfully. “I dunno, I was gonna eat.”

A dirty thought crosses your mind. You laugh and part your thighs just an inch, insinuating just exactly what he should eat.

“Oh?” You say.

Steve catches on quick. His eyebrows hike up and he rolls his eyes, his endeared smile giving him away.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He asks, even as he moves forward to kneel on the cushions— his hands finding a place around each of your ankles. Your tummy burns as you realise he might be serious.

“I wouldn’t complain,” you quip back with a cheeky smile. Steve’s hands on your ankles shift up, smoothing up your calves with such evident adoration it makes your blood sing.

“Wouldn’t complain, she says,” Steve echoes your words with a mock-contemplation, pretending to ponder as his thumbs rub softly at the skin of your thighs. “Anyone ever call you a princess?”

He asks while his hands keep travelling up, his fingers tucking into your unbuttoned denim. Your hips lift as he pulls, letting them slide down your legs and be discarded to the floor.

Steve’s got an intense look in his eyes now, his flicking between your face and your barely clothed core. You feel yourself grow more excited.

“Mhm,” You answer his question, your breath hitching as Steve’s hands land back on your knees— sliding them down your thighs and drawing a line with his thumb right along the sensitive inner parts. “My boyfriend, actually.”

“Your boyfriend, huh?”

He bends down between his words to kiss one of your knees. You sigh, the novel in your hands pushed to the ground and forgotten completely. You hear it land with a clutter. Steve’s huge hands are still moving, still massaging up and down your thighs— til they creep higher.

“Tell me about him, this boyfriend.” Steve muses, beginning to smile. His hands ruck your shirt higher and higher, the callouses on his hands the perfect friction against your nipples. He gives them a good pinch and you gasp, your back arching into his touch.

“Uh huh…” you start, entirely distracted by how his lips have started to trail kisses down your thighs. Just a few touches in the right place and he’s got you soaking the cotton of your panties. You might be embarrassed if you weren’t so turned on.

“Well, he’s prob— probably the hottest guy in Hawkins.” Your voice skips as his mouth starts to reach the V of your thigh. His plush lips start to suckle, a dart of his tongue soothing over you as he sucks a hickey into the soft skin of your inner thigh.

His mouth pulls off abruptly. “Wait, probably?”

“Definitely.” You quickly amend. Steve melts into a smug grin, diving back down to continue his hickey as you let yourself sweet talk him. “Definitely 100% the hottest dude in town. Most attractive in the st—state, if you ask me.”

Steve hums against you appreciatively, switching his focus from one thigh to the other. You can feel your legs beginning to twitch, feel yourself clenching around nothing in pure anticipation. Steve nips and soothes at your thigh, his hands still roaming, still squeezing and pinching at your nipples enough to make you sigh sweetly.

When he finally moves from your thigh, it’s only a moment of relief before you realise he’s moving up to kiss at your tummy.

“Go on,” He urges you, eyes flashing up to meet yours with a grin. He knows you’ve caught onto his teasing now and despite how it makes your skin flutter, his kisses, the languid press of his mouth, all are just so so close to where you want him. But not close enough.

“He’s also,” You huff, all breathy now. You can feel how wet you are for him— can already envision how good it’ll feel when he gets his mouth on you. If he ever gets his mouth on you. “The biggest tease in the world.”

Steve pulls back from his motions with a pout. He’s still kneeling on the couch, your legs parted around him and at your words, his hands slide down to rest on your hipbones. His thumbs swatch up at down your panty line, teasing and tantalising. You squirm.

“Ughhhhh, why are you being a tease right now?” You ask, slumping back on the couch with a half a mind to stick your own hand down between your legs.

Steve’s hand gently touches your chin, pressing it lightly so you tilt your head forward to look him in the eye when he says, “Because you ate my pickle.”

You blink at him owlishly for a moment, his words throwing you for a loop. Then a laugh titters out your mouth and you cover it with your hand.

“Oh my god, I totally did.” You giggle, half at your lousy memory for stealing Steve’s final pickle from the him — and half because he’s actually petty enough to bring it back up during sex. “I’m so sorry.”

Steve tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “Are you? I don’t think you are.”

You laugh again, head thrown back and then nod as best you can. “I am! I’m sorry I ate your pickle, baby.”

Steve’s faux-bitchiness melts away and he pouts for a moment. “You know, I was looking forward to that.”

He jabs your thigh playfully and you can’t help but laugh again. Steve stares at you unabashedly— something hot in his chest at this mixture of laughter and pleasure and a silly little bicker over a pickle.

“I can offer only one consolation,” you say, laughter now gone as you peer up at him through your lashes.

When you know you’ve got him hooked in, you nudge your thighs up and spread them a little further. You watch as Steve shivers, his eyes fluttering closed for just a moment.

He shifts on his knees, one hand pressing into his shorts which have become tighter and tighter. When he gathers himself, there’s a new fire in his eyes — fixed on his next meal.

“Well, best get rid of these then, huh?” He murmurs, his fingers finally pinching at your panties and moving to tug them down your legs. You shuffle to let him, the heat pooling in your stomach as he tucks them into his back pocket without a second thought.

This time when his mouth kisses its way down your thigh, Steve can barely wait — skipping past his previous hickies to lick through your folds with eagerly. You gasp and moan, hips squirming up to meet his mouth and Steve takes it all gratefully — more than content to spend his Sunday afternoon with his tongue between your thighs.

[stevebabey]

surrounded by your embrace

summary: when you get drunk at a party, old memories make steve worry. he really doesn't need to because all alcohol does is make you clingy. gn!reader but mentioned to wear sum eyeshadow, no warnings u and steve are just absolute goobers for each other :D wc: 2k

He goes to the bathroom for five minutes.

Five minutes and you manage to make yourself scarce. The corner you had been previously inhabiting, slurping the lip of your red solo cup while talking to some friends, is completely void of you when Steve finds his way back to it.

Your friends are still there, leaned against the wall and chattering amongst themselves. Steve clears his throat to gain their attention.

"Did you see...?" He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, asking if they'd noticed where you might've wandered off to. You've had quite a few drinks tonight already and Steve's not surprised if it means you've forgotten you're the only one he knows at this party. These are your friends, not his.

One of them points towards the kitchen and he mutters a quiet thank-you, beginning to wind his way through the people to reach the kitchen.

A fraction of unease prickles at the back of his neck. Last time he was a party and his partner ambled off, full of alcohol, it had left a couple memories that cut deep. Steve hasn't ever admitted it aloud to anyone the seeds that Nancy had sowed that night, the little insecurities that had never bothered Steve in the slightest suddenly sprouting up overnight.

Worst is, he can't make himself forget that night. He remembers the spill of red punch on her white shirt vividly. Remembers the sting behind his eyes. Remembers how later on she'd come back in the middle of everything with Jonathan by her side and Steve had just... known.

But you're not Nancy and he knows that. He knows that this is a different party, you're a different person, it's a whole different relationship—

Yet, those insecurities have rooted deep and Steve can feel them shifting painfully inside him as his worries get away from him. Like vines wrapping tight around his ribcage the longer it takes to find you.

You're aren't by the drink station on the kitchen bench and looking out at the sea of people in the living room, you aren't there either. Steve pulls his collar away from his neck, feeling the prickle roll down his skin again. You've gone, something in his head whispers meanly, You've left him and found someone else at this party. Someone without his baggage, someone without his neediness, someone—

Steve scrubs a hand down his face and shoves away his ugly thoughts. None of them are fair to you — you who has been nothing but impossibly and endlessly sweet on him in the one month you and Steve have been dating. He inhales sharply to clear his head and scans the crowd again. Nothing.

Just as he's turning to go bug your friends again, he spots movement out the corner on his eye, someone shuffling about the walk-in pantry. Steve walks closer and peers in. It's you.

Delight and relief bloom together in his chest and he rounds the corner with a shaky smile, leaning up against the door frame. "There you are."

You turn with a little hiccup, clearly startled.

Steve adores how the recognition on your face melts into excitement, steamrolling his anxieties in an instant, and you drop whatever is in your hands and leap for your boyfriend.

"Steve!"

"That's me," He says with a smile, arms opening for you to burrow yourself in. You do so, arms twisting around his middle and face smushing against his chest and he welcomes the warmth of you in his arms. He expects you to move after a minute but you stay put, pressed right up against him, hold only tightening.

"I couldn't find you." You whine.

"You were looking for me in the pantry?"

"Nooooo," The drinks you've had have turned your usual drama up to 11. You dig your face out of his chest and rest your chin against it instead, forcing Steve to look directly down to meet your eyes. "S'just went to get water from th' kitchen 'n' then I saw they have a box of Fruit Roll-Ups."

You say this all as if it's incredibly self-explanatory why you're in the pantry while you're also looking for your boyfriend. Steve looks over your head and spies the spilled box on the ground you were holding just a few moment prior. Lo and behold, half a dozen Fruit Roll-Ups are scattered on the ground.

"Fruit Roll-Ups, Steve." You whisper with more emphasis.

He laughs a little, looking back down at you and thinking how pretty you look tonight. There's this blue crystal-coloured eyeshadow lightly smudged across your eyelids and it glitters beneath the low hanging bulb of the pantry.

"Well, I'm sure you can have one." He nods to gesture behind you. "Melanie won't mind, you're her friend."

Melanie, the party's host, had been tucked up and fast asleep in her bed with a big red bucket by her side when he had opened her door trying to find the bathroom. Steve definitely thinks she won't mind letting you gorge yourself of a single Fruit Roll-Up. Or a couple. Whatever, he won't tell on you.

"You think?"

Steve rubs your back lightly and goads you back towards the snack you're clearly hungry for. Your hands slide out of the hug reluctantly but the moment you turn, you're scuttling over to the treats. Steve chuckles watching you plop yourself down, sitting down on the cold tiles. You're in shorts. Steve can see your goosebumps from here.

He takes a few steps and crouches down, taking a seat next to you, leaning his back up against a beam. You're trying to tear into one of the packets but the moment Steve's back in your view, you're pouting and holding it out to him.

Steve pretends to scoff, taking the packet and opening it easily, but really, he loves that you ask him to do those things. Loves doing little things for you. He offers it back to you and you pluck it from his hands with glee.

He assumes you'll sink your teeth into it but you stare at it for a moment before you surprise him, crawling forward and all bout clambering into his lap.

It's rather inelegant, your drunkenness not helping and you push the heel of your hand just two inches from where it would really hurt, making Steve wince in anticipation. He holds his hands up and out of the way and lets you settle yourself.

A quiet revelation makes something in his chest glows hotly. You're always affectionate, always want to be touching him, but this is another level for you — there's a shyness around PDA that you usually carry that seems to have been shed tonight. Anyone could peer in the pantry and see you curled up in his arms and lap and you seem too enamoured with him to even care.

Steve grins and chides himself for ever being worried earlier.

"Hi." You say, finally situated comfortably. Steve's not sure it is comfortable, sitting sideways in his lap with one leg twisted nearly underneath you and one out in front, sorta curled in, but you seem content enough. He places one hand on the small of your back, the other holding just above your knee.

"Hi there. Comfy now?"

"Very. Can you pass me my roll-up please?"

You've dropped it in your wriggle to get closer to him and its rolled nearly under the shelf Steve's leaning up besides. He leans over and retrieves it, thanks God for the wrapper, and produces it for you.

"A gift." He says, drinking in how your face washes over with delight. With the lights haloing behind your head, your hair frizzy from dancing earlier, he thinks you look like an angel.

"That's right!" You take it from him and pull it close to your chest, attention back on him. "I wanted to give you a kiss, to say thank you."

Steve feels his heart flutter, a stutter in the beats at the utter tenderness of your words. He squeezes your knee and turns his face, holding out his cheek.

"Well, go on then."

You giggle and it's the most dreamy honeyed noise Steve's ever heard. You lean in and plant a big wet kiss on his cheek with a happy hum, pulling back with a mwah!

"Thank you for the kiss, sweetheart." He rubs the hand on your back lightly and you soften at his words completely, pure giddiness running rampant across your features.

Steve soaks it all in, unsure of the last time he knew someone who gave him love so freely. You seem to have endless amounts of it for him. You don't even mind when he's greedy with you.

You finally peel back the wrapper of the Fruit Roll-Up and gobble a bit of it down. You chew and swallow and lean all your weight against him, your shoulder pressing into his. You're close, a couple more inches and the tip of his nose would brush yours. A bashful expression flits across your features.

"I like when you call me sweetheart."

"You do?"

You nod enthusiastically.

"That's good," Steve says, fondness coating each word. " 'Cos I like calling you sweetheart, sweetheart."

It's so cheesy that Steve thinks you shouldn't laugh, but you do because you're wonderful. He grins, his fingers on your knee tightening slightly as you look over him, your eyes crinkled up by your grin. The alcohol makes you brash enough to stare and you look at his face intently for a moment before you huff.

“God!” You drop your head back with a dramatic sigh and sink your teeth into your bottom lip to try contain your giddy grin. It doesn’t work in the slightest. “That look.”

"What? What look?”

You tip your head back up and Steve can read the shyness on your expression, pulling at your eyebrows.

“You know,” You say, a little embarrassed, which is even more adorable on you while drunk. You're flustered over your words, like you know you wouldn't normally have said them if you were sober. “You just get this look sometimes, when you’re looking at me—”

Steve frowns for a moment, minuscule, as he thinks of what face you might be referring to.

“—and your eyes get all intense and- ugh! It still makes nervous when you do it.” You’ve drop your head again, forward this time, to hide your face in his shoulder. You pat your tummy theatrically and then clutch it, voice lowering to a whisper in his ear. “These butterflies are your doing, Harrington.”

Steve laughs, entirely too pleased with himself —he still makes you nervous. Ditto, he thinks. “Is that so?”

"Mmhm." You hum and Steve feels you place a soft kiss on one of the moles on his neck. His breath catches and his heart flip-flops. You wiggle a bit but it's just to try get closer to him, your nose nuzzling against his neck. A tired sigh escapes you.

"You tired? Wanna go home?" He asks.

You nod sluggishly but make no attempt to move. Steve chuckles lightly, his hand still soothing up and down your back gently, not helping in the least he knows. Still, he can't help himself; he wants to ply you with love, with comfort, if he can. You sigh happily.

"N' a minute." You mumble. Your words are slurring the more tired you get. "Just wanna be at a party with my super hot and amazing boyfriend for one more minute. S'okay?"

Steve's heart crumples and he can feel his entire body curl up, his legs sliding up an inch, his hands tensing, all involuntarily reactions to try bring you in closer to him. There is an ache in his very core but it's a lovely ache. Steve feels a burn behind his eyes. He blinks and presses a long kiss to your hairline.

"Yeah, sweetheart," He murmurs into your hair. "That's more than okay with me."

[imthursdaysyme]

Sleepover shenanigans