daddyharrington

[daddyharrington]

Sweetness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you’ve never, ever—?”

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

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

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

“Finish?” Steve supplied helpfully.

You nodded again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It only made you press your fingers into yourself harder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Atta’ girl, keep doin’ that, okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

“Want me to help?”

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

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

He’d died. He was dead.

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

He was rock fucking hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[daddyharrington]

aaaaaaaAAAHHHHHHH

[daddyharrington]

I am looking respectfully

[daddyharrington]

o dear o dear o dear o dear

Joe Keery | Watch What Happens Live, 2017

[daddyharrington]

i think it was so brave of the hit Netflix original stranger things to announce to that word that Steve harrington canonically has a breeding kink like going above and beyond

honestly, if the hit streaming platform netflix randomly announced that joe improved that entire scene, i wouldn’t be surprised

[daddyharrington]

#hands

[daddyharrington]

📸 6 new/old behinds the scenes photos of Joe Keery from Stranger Things Season 4 added!

🔗 https://joe-keery.org/photos/thumbnails.php?album=127

[daddyharrington]

#underrated steve moment

[daddyharrington]

Holy Shit

Pairing: Steve Harrington x pregnant!Reader, sprinkle of Nancy x Jonathon and Robin x Vickie

Summary: The kids, who are now of legal drinking age, are home for the holidays. Steve and Reader have big news to share with the gang and they decide Robin is just right to do the job. Also Eddie teaching kids swear words lol

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Reader referred to as she/her, talk of pregnancy, Steve being protective, fluff fluff fluff, use of Y/N once, mention of eating, swear words, I don’t think any specific holiday is mentioned, let me know if I missed anything

A/N: this is the first thing I’ve written in a hot second so I cannot promise good quality :’(

———————

“Where is your scarf?” You heard your boyfriend ask. Ever since you both found out you were pregnant, twins to be exact, he was doting on you every second of the day. “What about your gloves. I think I saw them on the end table. Wait here, I’ll get them. The heat is on, so just adjust it how you-“

“Steve,” you said calmly, a slightly amused expression on your face. He paused and looked at you with his brows furrowed and a worried look on his face.

“What? Are you okay? Are the babies okay? Are you sick? I can call Nance and just-“

“Steve!” You giggled as he patted you down. Your un-gloved hands circled around his wrists to stop him. “I am fine. The babies are fine. You’re worrying again. My scarf is in the backseat because the heat is blasting. Also we’re late.”

“Oh,” he looked down at his watch, seeing that you both were, as you said, a whopping twenty minutes late for the holiday dinner at the Wheelers/Byers. “Shit. Okay. I’m gonna grab the gloves and then we’ll head out.”

Before you can tell him that you don’t need the gloves, he’s carefully jogging back into the apartment building leaving you in his red BMW where you had just sat for the better half of twenty minutes. You rolled your eyes with a smile and rolled your window up. He’s back down five minutes later, sliding into the driver seat and placing the black gloves into your purse.

“Okay baby, you buckled?” He checks you over for the nth time, finding you happily strapped into your seat. “Alright, let me know if you want to just go back home or if-“

“Steve Harrington, if you don’t start driving, I am going to throw you out of this vehicle and drive myself,” you deadpanned.

“Copy that, driving now.”

On the way, you put your hand on the center console where he usually took your hand immediately. Steve didn’t this time, claiming that he needed two hands on the wheel just to keep you and his babies safe. You pinched his arm, to which he moved his arm out of the way, taking one hand off the wheel.

“Oh look! We didn’t crash!” You said with fake enthusiasm before offering your hand out to him again. “Hold my hand.”

He grumbled a little, but took your hand, pressing a kiss to the back with a smile. You understood his nerves, appreciated the doting and constant attention. You weren’t married or even engaged, not to mention the small apartment that was just big enough for you two, let alone another two. But you and Steve, though it was unexpected, we’re overjoyed to be starting a family together. You knew that he’d always wanted kids and you were also worried that it was a little early to dive into this, but Steve would be the best dad. You could both make this work.

“Alright, do you need me to get the buckle?” Steve asked, hand already reaching for it. You swatted it away and hopped out of the car before he could react. He quickly circled the car, grabbing your purse on the way out and looking you over. “Baby! What if you slipped getting out? You can’t scare me like that!”

“I’m barely pregnant, Steve,” you chuckled, a hand tasting on you stomach while the other laced with one of his. “I’m an adult, I think I can handle unbuckling myself.”

“Okay, sorry,” he kissed your forehead softly. “Let’s go.”

You got about halfway down the driveway before you remembered the drinks in the backseat, “Oh, Steve! The cider! It’s still in the back.”

He hesitated for a second as you glanced back at the car, a good 15 feet away. You looked back and said, “I don’t want to walk that far. You get it.”

Steve’s face lit up and he quickly kissed you and ran back to the car. You laughed lightly before he came back and you both made it into the house, being greeted immediately by Dustin and Eddie.

“Jesus I thought you guys had ditched us,” Eddie pulled you into a hug before helping you shed you jacket while Steve gave Dustin a his own hug now that he was back from college. “You look great, by the way. You cut your hair or something?”

“Or something,” you replied cheekily.

“The Harringtons are here!” Dustin called out, immediately followed by a small stampede of now college kids. Steve huffed as each of the kids practically barreled into you to hug you, Dustin being the first. “How’s it going? He pop the question yet?”

“No,” you laughed, squeezing him tightly before pulling away. “No ring just yet. You’ve still got time to woo me.”

You happily greeted the other kids, noticing Steve getting more and more anxious with the amount of tight embraces. At last, Nancy and Jonathon’s little girl, a sweet four year old, ran up and held onto your leg.

“Oh my goodness! You’ve gotten so big Ashley!” You put your hand on her head as she giggled. “You know I think in a few years, you’ll be taller than Uncle Steve.”

She giggled happily and made grabby hands, so you picked her up and put her on your hip. Steve quickly jumped in and took her, Ashley easily adjusting and babbling on to Steve.

“Makes you think, huh?” Nancy came in with a rounded belly.

“Sorry?”

“Steve, kids, you know?” She smiled at you. Your face reddened and you waved her off. “I’m telling you, he’s made to be a dad. Whenever you both decide it’s time, assuming you want kids, I think he’ll be wonderful.”

You all migrated to the dining room and ate, chatting and catching up on the new developments. Dustin was having the time of his life at MIT, Lucas got a basketball scholarship at a school in Chicago, Eddie had finally opened his mechanic shop on Main Street, and Robin and Vickie were officially moving in together.

Speaking of Robin, she was uncharacteristically quiet. Almost as if she were biting her tongue. You caught her eye multiple times but she always snapped her head in the opposite direction and stuffed something into her mouth.

“So-“

“Steve’s pregnant!” The table was silent and everyone turned to look at Robin, “I’m sorry, I just can’t keep my mouth shut which both of you know which is why I was wondering why you even told me since I can never shut up but I cannot live one more second keeping this a secret especially from Vic because she knows when I’m keeping secrets so she’s been suspicious all week and-“

“You’re pregnant?!” Dustin exclaimed, looking over at you.

You looked over at Steve, who smiled and took your hand under the table. See, the two of you couldn’t figure out how to tell them, so Steve had the bright idea of telling Robin under the guise that you and him each told one person and he had chosen her. You both knew it was only a matter of time before she spilled the news.

“Yeah, I am,” you smiled over at Dustin. Everyone erupted in congratulations and laughed happily with you.

“What happened to time to woo?” Dustin jested, sending a smile your way.

“So… do you know yet?” Nancy asked, pouring herself some more cider.

“Not yet, no,” Steve answered, squeezing your hand. “But the Doctor said the babies are healthy and doing just fine.”

“The what?” Eddie’s jaw dropped. You laughed as Steve confirmed that you were eating for three. “Holy shit! Two more Harringtons?!”

“What’s shit?” Ashley pulled on Eddie’s sleeve. His face paled as Jonathon and Nancy both glared at him.

“Uh, ask your parents,” he deflected, looking back at you and Steve. “Anyway, the Harringtons are pregnant! Yay! Let’s talk about that!”

Ashley whispered to Eddie, who had to bend down for her to reach his ear. She asked what that meant so he said, “It means you’re going to have two cousins soon. Uncle Steve and Auntie Y/N are going to have two babies.”

“Oh,” she said, then smiled, “Holy shit!”

“Eddie!”

[daddyharrington]

Something There. Steve Harrington x Reader

Something There.

I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT

WEEK TWO PROMT: Gift giving/receiving

Summary: Trying to keep your pregnancy induced nausea at bay doesn’t go according to plan, and Steve catches on way quicker than you think he’s going to. (Fic title inspired from the song “Something There” from the movie beauty and the beast)

(Header credits to @syddsatyrn )

AN: This is part of Sydd and I’s Christmas Celebration “30 days of Christmas” for more info on the weekly prompts click the link HERE and come join us!

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

Warnings: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, talk of pregnancy, pregnancy tests, mentions, and acts of throwing up (no descriptive detail), Steve being just the sweetest boy (IF THERE IS ANYTHING I MISSED LET ME KNOW)

Wordcount: 1838

🎄🎄🎄🎄

“Steve I really don’t feel good” You said smoothing your sweaty hands down the bottom of your dress.

“It’s just nerves baby, it’ll be fine” he said with a reassuring smile, tucking a bit of your hair behind your ear before taking your hand and walking towards the front door of his bosses house.

But you didn’t think it was just nerves, you felt far too sick for it to be nerves, but Steve wanted you to be with him tonight so badly; to show you off to his coworkers at his big new corporate job. So despite your fatigue, and shaky limbs you got all dressed up and went with him. It wasn’t until you were walking up the driveway that the nausea had really settled in the pit of your stomach. You tug on Steves arm to stop him from walking, and he turns to you, smile fading when he sees the look on your face, and how pale you’ve become.

“Baby?”

Keep reading

[daddyharrington]

dad!steve having the feral urge to breed you immediately after you give birth to your first son )):

let it be known that steve harrington had never been quiet about his urge to have lots of kids and a big family. he’d known since he was a young teenager that was what he wanted — a family of his own, little harringtons running around the yard and causing a ruckus whilst he barbecued and his trophy wife laid on her sun lounger, getting a tan in her pretty bikini. that was all he ever wanted in life, all he could ever remember wanting.

and then he met you. he knew from the get go that you were the one. he wanted to see you with a big pregnant belly, parade you around town and show you off like you were the hottest piece of ass in town (you were, to him). let everybody know he was the one who knocked you up, was the cause of your shapely body, child-baring hips, fatter ass.

you got pregnant not even a month after getting married, because of course you did. steve was insatiable, fucked you at any given opportunity on your fertile days — went as far as showing up to your office and pounding you in the toilet cubicle on your lunch break. you might’ve known you’d both be ridiculously fertile, twenty-somethings fucking like rabbits tended to end up in this situation quickly.

the day he noticed the pudge of your belly looks different, rounded and a little harder than usual, he fucked you so hard you saw stars. whispered sweet nothings in your ear about how sexy you looked, how much your belly turned him on.

the bigger you got, the less he could keep his hands off of you. and you can’t say you complained, the pregnancy hormones drove you just as wild, had your pussy aching and sopping wet for him all the time. steve took advantage of it, of course he did, he would’ve been a fool not to. he’d never been so horny in his life, so desperate for a fuck.

you give birth to a boy. he’s the most precious little guy, has the thickest head of curly hair and his dads pretty brown eyes. you’re both besotted, in love, and you’d never seen steve take to a job as well as he took to being a dad. you knew then he that it was clearly what he was destined to do, and you’d do anything to keep him this happy.

you both love being parents. but the no sex is hard, especially with your whirlwind of hormones, and the fact steve hadn’t gone longer than a day without stuffing your pussy for the last year. you yearned for each other, but headed the warnings your midwife had given you — six weeks minimum, no goddamn exceptions.

he pounces on you the second you get through the door from your six week postpartum appointment, all he needs is your subtle nod of the head and he’s backing you up against the wall — hitches your leg over his hip and grinds into you through the thin material of your panties, sundress slipping up to expose you to him.

he kisses you like a man starved, six weeks of not fucking you felt like a lifetime, and all he wants is to shove his cock in you and fill you with his seed. get you all nice and pregnant with another harrington sprog — and he knows how fertile you are at this stage, knows just one slip up will have you knocked up again and it makes his cock ache.

you’re just as eager for it, of course you are. the sad, stressful healing stage was over three weeks ago and the hormones swirling through your body were showing themselves as sexual frustration. you paw at steve’s loose basketball shorts, tug him closer until you’re slipping the material down his toned thighs, dragging his boxers with them to pool at his feet.

he doesn’t waste time after that, pulling the damp material of your panties to the side and exposing your soaked cunt to the air. you gasp against his lips; feel the thick head of his cock slide in between your folds, running over your clit just barely before he moves back down, pushing the tip into your hole with minimum resistance.

you’re lifted onto your tiptoes with the sheer force of steve slipping his cock into your sweet, wet pussy. he buries his face into your neck and let’s out the prettiest gasp once he’s fully sheathed, stilling for just a moment to make sure you’re okay and nothing hurts.

it’s endearing in an otherwise feral, highly charged situation. you whine a little, hand reaching to card through his messy hair, in hopes it’ll get him to just move. you feel so full, his cock stretching you in this achingly delicious way, and your walls spasm around his length, causing him to grip your thigh just a bit harder.

“fuck, baby. never felt you this wet before, shit,” steve talks like he’s struggling to catch his breath, rocks into you and let’s put a stifled groan, like he’s trying to stop himself from coming on the spot. you feel his cock pulse inside of you, more or less confirming your thoughts.

“need you to move, steve,” you gasp, begging quietly for him to just fuck you. he cranes his neck from his place in your own, looking at you with lust blown eyes, puffy red lips spit-slick, “c’mon, babe. show me what i’ve been missing.”

steve grunts at your words, lifts you up from the ground completely with his strong arms, tapping your thigh twice to get you to wrap your legs around him. you do so willingly, whining as the angle makes him slip just that little bit deeper into your pussy, knocking your cervix. you don’t think you’d ever get used to the sheer size of him, how you were able to feel every ridge and vein. he was right, though, — you were wetter than usual.

he plants his hands firmly under the curve of your ass, helping lift you off of his cock, then guiding you to sink back down. you can’t help yourself, back arching off the wall as you mewl, a shuddery moan puffing from your lips.

“you’re so tight, baby, goddamn,” steve grunts, eyes rolling a little as your cunt engulfs him in wet hot heat, the two of you picking up a rhythm with you bouncing and him fucking up into you, “fuck, you feel so good. missed this, missed your little pussy.”

you choke out a sob at his words, hand tightening in his hair as you lean forward to kiss him — it’s half hearted, you’re just panting into his mouth, mostly. his cock is so deep you feel him in your guts, know he’s going to shoot his load so deep there’s no way you’re getting out of here without getting knocked up.

steve pants against your mouth, not taking his eyes off or you as he pounds into you, keeping you lifted up like it’s fucking nothing, “gonna knock you up again, would you like that, baby? want your belly all full for me again, need it.”

you nod your head fervently, crying out as you sink down and the angle changes slightly, has the curve of steve’s cock brushing your spongey spot perfectly, “please, please. fill me up with your babies. want everyone to — shit, right there! — know your f-fat cock did it.”

steve glances down, catches the sight your tits by accident. all hard and leaking, making a mess of your pretty little dress. he can’t have that, have you sore and aching, that wouldn’t make him a very good husband now, would it?

he drags you over to the sofa without pulling out, sits down gently until you’re back to being fully seated on his cock, and almost in a complete juxtaposition, rips down your dress to expose your tits to the warm air. you hiss, nipples pulled tight and leaking liquid gold. you hadn’t even noticed, too wrapped up in the feeling of being split apart.

“babe, you have no idea how much i’ve wanted to do this,” steve sighs, leaning down to latch onto one of your nipples, causing you to let out a startled little yelp that quickly turns into a moan. it’s fucked up — you’re both fucked up, getting off on him suckling at your tit like he’s starving, lapping at your milk like he’d die without it.

you bury your hands back into his hair, tugging him impossibly closer as you slide your hips back and forth, gaining purchase on your clit, enough to have your tummy tightening and core aching, “oh my god,” you cry, tears pricking your eyes at the relief you feel all at once — from your sore tits, your desperate cunt, every little bit of you relaxing at once.

steve looks up at you with innocent eyes, dragging his mouth from your left tit with a small thumb over your nipple, putting his attention on the other one and suckling on it instead. you’re dripping wet with milk, leaking down your belly and soaking your dress through. you can’t find it in you to care when steve’s looking after you like this, gently bucking up into you from below.

“c’mon, steve, finish the job,” you sigh eventually, pawing at the back of his head and tugging the tresses between your splayed out fingers, “cum in me, wanna feel you dripping out of me later, hmm?”

steve takes that as his cue, unlatches from your sore nipple, grabs hold of your hips extra tight and begins fucking you like he means it — hard, fast, enough to have you doing no work as he throws you around like a damn rag doll. your nails claw at his shoulders, the sound of wet skin slapping and your sopping wet cunt engulfing your senses, having you crying out.

“that’s it, baby,” steve grunts, sliding a hand over the front of your pussy and planting his thumb on your clit, circling it quickly, the sensation enough to make you almost scream, “gonna cum all over my big cock, yeah? milk me with your tight, wet pussy?”

you nod your head, crying out as the warmth begins to pool in your belly, the ruddy tip of steve’s cock brushing your g-spot rhythmically, mixing with the feeling of his calloused thumb running over your clit sending you hurtling to the edge quickly, “i’m cumming steve, fuck, fuck—!”

your pussy clenches sporadically as you come, grinding down against steve’s pubic bone as you ride it out, fingernails digging into his shoulders so hard he hisses, slaps your ass in retaliation. you swear you’ve never came so hard in your fucking life, whole body tensing and going lax just as fast.

“that’s it, honey. cum all over me, shit, you’re so fucking wet,” steve’s losing composure, fucking up into you sporadically, going crazy over the sounds and feeling of your wet cunt dripping all down his shaft, wetting him right down to his balls, making a mess of your expensive sofa, “gonna fill you full of my jizz, get you all pregnant, can’t wait to see you with a belly again — fuck, m’gonna cum,”

you’re moaning uncontrollably, body basically limp under steve’s touch as he fucks you with purpose, chasing his own release. you squeeze around him again, milking his cock and that does it — his hips stuttering, grabbing hold of you to force you down onto his shaft deep as he comes, head thumping back onto the sofa cushions, eyes rolling in his head.

you can’t say you’re surprised when your period doesn’t arrive on time. you’re even less surprised to see the plus sign on the blue test five minutes later.

[daddyharrington]

[daddyharrington]

steve had such a vibe chance from s3 to s4

s3 steve harrington is so babygirl that he’d beg and moan so loud that you have to cover his mouth while you ride him and 100% and asks to cum while his hands dig into your thighs. Also would love to eat pussy any chance he gets bc ur just “so sweet” to taste

s4 steve harrington is so daddy it hurts. He’d manhandle you, spit in your mouth if you asked, and have no problem calling u his little slut as he pounds into you raw from behind. He’d also wrap his hand around you neck and smirk when you cry and beg for him to go harder and faster.

[daddyharrington]

hey babes, just throwing this out here bc it feels like I’ve officially hit the bottom of the steve x pregnant reader barrel. if there are any fics you feel like I should read/add to this blog PLS do a girl a favor and share em

hope you’re all having a lovely sunday night, k thx xx

#steve harrington x pregnant reader

[daddyharrington]

🍭 lollipop -26. “Just breathe. Like that. That’s it” from List 4 with steve pls?? ty<3

i combined this one with another request—"relax, i've got you." because i thought they went pretty hand in hand with each other, i hope that's okay! ty for requesting! <3

dad!steve harrington x pregnant!reader, mentions of pain and pregnancy symptoms, 1.3k

Being pregnant was proving to be one of the hardest things in your life. You’d had enough dizziness and nausea in your first trimester to last you a lifetime, enough achiness and swollen feet in your second than anyone should ever have, and now in your third, you’d discovered something brand new to put on your list of pregnancy woes.

False labor pains, otherwise known as Braxton-Hicks contractions (as Steve had very quickly informed you after a trip to the library that resulted in a pile of what to expect when you’re expecting-esque books residing next to his side of the bed). Paired with an extremely active baby girl with a horse strength kick who loved to make it known 24/7, this home stretch was your toughest one yet.

The telltale open and shut of the front door signaled Steve’s arrival, even before his voice. “Honey, I’m home!!!” He sang.

You made a vague noise of acknowledgement from your sprawled out position on the couch, waving your hand over your head haphazardly. You’d been stuck in the same spot for almost the whole day, seeing as every time you tried to get up, either another well placed kick or a false contraction dragged you right back down.

“How’re my girls doing?”

“Your daughter’s doing her daily karate routine against my organs, but other than that we’re great.”

“Oh so she’s gonna do karate now? I thought she was gonna be a tap dancer? Or a soccer player?” Steve teased gently, tossing his keys into the bowl on the table near the front door. He kicked his shoes off too, hanging his jacket on the hook next to yours before crossing the room to rub your shoulders with a kiss pressed to the top of your head.

“She can be all of them when she grows up, but I wish she’d stop it right now.”

He let out a snort of laughter, rounding the couch and kneeling in front of you. One hand came to rub your belly gently, the other coming to land on your knee. “Anything I can do for you?”

“Tell her to cut it out.” Another laugh from him. “How was work?”

“Pretty uneventful. Robin says hi though, wanted me to ask if you two were still on for lunch on Tuesday?”

“Oh my god, I totally forgot to call her back!” You gasped, hands scrabbling for purchase on the couch cushions as if you wanted to push yourself up.

“Hey, hey, slow your roll, sweetheart. Take it easy, I’ll give her a call later.” Steve eased you back down, shooting you a pointed look when you pouted up at him. “I promise, ‘mkay?”

“‘Mkay.” You sighed, slumping back into your previous position. Then, barely even taking a beat, you shot up straight again, this time moving to grab Steve’s shoulders as leverage.

His brows furrowed in instant concern. “What? What’s happening now? Are you okay?”

“Gotta pee.”

“Jesus, you really scared me for a second there,” He breathed, pressing a hand against his chest but going to help you up anyways.

The second you made it to your feet, you were hit with another Braxton-Hicks, this one so big that you would’ve keeled over at the strength of it if not for Steve still holding on to you. You squeezed your eyes shut, sinking back down on the couch yet again with a choked whimper. For something called false labor, the pain sure was really goddamn real. “Whoa, okay. Relax, I’ve got you. You’re alright, sweetheart, you’re doing great. Just relax.”

“Tell me to relax one more time and I’m gonna wring your neck, Harrington.” You said through gritted teeth, fisting his shirt in your hand as if it would help you ride out the pain.

Steve ignored your threat, because he knew you didn’t actually mean it. You’d been growing a whole tiny human inside you for the past eight months, the least he could do was stomach a few gripes here and there. “Squeeze my hands. Just squeeze my hands, it’ll help.”

You gladly took him up on the offer, borderline crushing his hands with a strength neither you nor him knew you had, but he’d never complain about it. A popped knuckle and temporary loss of blood flow was nothing compared to what you’d been having to endure nonstop.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the worsening spasm in your back and abdomen, like someone had taken your insides and was twisting them around in their grip.

“Just breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth.” Steve soothed, mimicking the deep breaths he wanted you to take. “Like that, that’s it. There you go. Just like that, baby.”

“This is the cramp from hell, Steve, deep breathing isn’t helping anything.”

“Okay, alright, let’s try something else then. Didn’t the doctor say moving around would help lessen the pain?” He suggested, trying his best to rack his brain despite the numbness creeping through his hands. “Or maybe drink some water? I can get you a glass of—”

“Can you just shut up for a minute?” The sharpness in your words shocked you, and should’ve shocked Steve too, but he didn’t seem phased at all, instead just nodding, gazing up at you with wide honey eyes currently filled with concern.

Guilt pooled in you as soon as the contraction finally subsided, and somehow, the guilt felt worse. Steve had been nothing less than the perfect partner this entire pregnancy, and here you were snapping at him for being supportive. Again.

You inhaled a shaky breath, bringing his hands up and pressing a kiss to each of his palms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Stevie, I don’t mean to be mean to you, I just—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, okay? You can do and say anything you want to me, sweetheart, and you never have to apologize. You’re carrying our kid, you’ve got every right to be as mean as you want.” He assured you, cupping your face. His thumbs stroked across your cheeks featherlight despite the firmness in his grip. “I’m a big boy, I can take it. Never be sorry. You don’t have to be.”

“I love you,” You sighed miserably, melting against him like a popsicle on a hot summer day.

“I love you most, sweetheart.” He replied softly, leaning down to press his lips against your belly before adding something. “And I love you most too, baby girl, even though you’re giving your mom a tough time right now.”

“I swear, she’s bullying me more and more everyday.”

He chuckled softly, smoothing a hand down your back in light circles. “I’m sure that’s just her way of saying she’s excited to meet us.”

“I know. I’m so excited to meet her and I know she’s already everything we’ve ever dreamed of, but I’d kill to be able to sleep on my stomach again.”

“One more month, baby. Just one more month and then you can sleep on your stomach all you want.” He murmured, breath ghosting across your skin with each word.

“One more month.” You echoed, curling your hand around the back of his neck. One more month of discomfort for a lifetime of anything and everything with your baby girl. That, you were excited for. Slightly terrified, but definitely more excited. “I’m nervous. Are you?”

“Oh yeah. Nearly-shitting-my-pants nervous. All the time. I don’t think that feeling is ever gonna go away, honestly.” He snorted, nodding sharply. He pressed one more kiss to your belly. “But it’s worth it. As long as I have my two girls, anything is worth it.”

“I hate how perfect you’re being right now.”

“Just right now? I think you mean always.”

You pressed your lips together suddenly, scrunching your nose at him. “Stevie, you’re about to hate me.”

“I could never, but good try.”

“I still need to pee.”

Steve barked out a laugh, heaving himself to his feet and gearing up to help you in your endless attempts at standing up. “C’mon, preggers, let’s get you to the bathroom before karate kid in there decides to try out for a new belt.”

[daddyharrington]

Um bulky Steve.

Lay directly on top of me please.

no bc yk when he was bulkiest?

this scene^^^^^^

and! the blue sweater from s1 really shows off the difference

like omg he’s literally the smallest little guy ever wow

[daddyharrington]

Top 5 Steve quotes

damn y'all love to make this HARD. in no order

how come the only one helping me out is this RANDOM GIRL

i love you im sorry what the hell am i sorry for

yeah, thats a NO

this is crazy this is crazy THIS IS CRAZY

is he a vamp-- is he a vampire

send me a top5/top10 topic