#Steve Harrington/reader

[moonbeamsandmayhem]

Steve’s resting comfortably against the headboard, hands on your hips as you bounce. Your arms are securely behind your sweat slicked back, hands resting on your elbows. “Oh fuck, St- Steve— fuck, fuck!”

You look down at where you’re both connected, cream coating his cock. He’s made you come three times on his fingers, tongue, and on that throbbing member. You’re drunk on him. And when you meet his gaze, you know you’re in for a long night.

“That’s right, baby, scream my name. Scream. It.” He thrusts upward. Hard. His cock hitting deep. And you go brainless, jaw going slack, a moan catching in your throat as your eyes roll back. “Can’t even do that, huh? Gone all dumb?” He lifts a hand, giving a sharp, controlled, slap to your cheek enough to sting. “Still with me?”

“Y-yes I’m still wi-with you.”

“Mmkay. We’ll see for how long.” With his signature smirk, he sets a brutal pace, and this time, you do scream. Because he’s carving his way into your guts. Pushing you further to oblivion than you’ve ever been. You can’t form thoughts, everything is pleasure. Your nerve endings are on fire and all you want is more, more, more. His thumb takes advantage of your open mouth, pressing it against your tongue, activating your gag reflex. “That’s it. Nice and wet for— are you fucking crying, baby? Aw.”

He slows it down, bringing his spit slicked digit down to your swollen bud, resting it there. You flinch, finding his gaze again through your watery eyes. “Cry a little more for me.”

#dd writes #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington/you #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington smut

[roanniom]

happy mother’s day to steve harrington’s breeding kink

Happy Mother’s Day, Steve Harrington

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, fingering, PIV sex / unprotected sex, mentions of family and motherhood, breeding kink, sliiight somnophilia that’s consensual in this loving committed relationship

You had finally let Steve know that you were ready to start trying for a kid. It had exploded his entire brain, and you’re pretty sure it’s all he’s thought about since the exact second you broke the news. The thing you hadn’t thought about was the fact that Mother’s Day was the very next day.

So you hadn’t anticipated the way you’d wake up to Steve kissing a path down your thighs beneath the covers. Your barely conscious mind can’t fully register what’s going on until his hands push your legs a little wider apart, his tongue laving a wet stripe over your cloth covered slit.

“S-Steve?” you gasp, pulling back the comforter and sheet to reveal Steve, eyes bleary from recent sleep, hair a mess from tunneling under the covers, and smile almost drunkenly happy from where he gazes at you between your thighs.

“Happy Mother’s Day, baby,” he responds, his grin growing even wider. He kisses each of your hips bones before placing sloppy kisses to the expanse of your tummy on his way to climb back over you.

“Steve. I’m not a mother,” you grumble, though you accept him willingly into your arms.

“Yet,” he corrects with a musical lilt to his voice as he kisses the tip of your nose. Then he shrugs. “And for all we know, you might be. I really gave it my all last night,” he continues cheekily, rubbing his erection against your thigh for emphasis.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, amused. “You gave it your all?”

“Yeah, I gave it to you real good,” Steve confirms, his grin turning annoyingly, sexily smug. “Don’t you remember? You were there. You were the one screaming my name.”

He really had given it to you good the night before. On every surface and in every position imaginable. From the minute you had told him over breakfast that you were finally ready for a family, Steve had spent the entire day planning how he was going to keep you filled and satisfied for every moment moving forward. So from the second you came home after a previously planned afternoon hang with Robin and Nancy, he’d done just that.

He’d pushed you up against the closed front door and fucked you right into it as soon as you walked in.

He’d made you dinner and eaten you out, on his knees in front of where you sat draped over your chair before fucking you on the hastily cleared dinner table.

He’d started a movie for the two of you before it turned into him fingering you on the couch. Which led to him trying to drag you to the bedroom - with a quick pit stop where he fucked you for a bit on the stairs before pulling out and dragging you to the room where he fucked you over the desk before finishing on the bed. And that, of course, means finishing inside you, which he did each time he came last night.

You'd finally put a stop to it after showering your aching body and dealing with his noticeable disappointment over you washing away his cum. In bed, all snuggled and fresh and clean, Steve had sidled up behind you, hard against your ass, and you'd turned over bewildered.

"How the fuck are you hard again? After all that?"

"I...I sincerely have no idea," Steve had replied with a sheepish smile. His hand had smoothed up and down the curve of your hip as he shrugged. "Something about you wanting a baby makes me need to give you one right now."

"That's really sweet, Stevie," you'd hummed, nuzzling against his neck. "But you've tired me out. And I can't go to sleep full of cum."

"Can't you?" he'd replied with big, pleading doe eyes that made you laugh and kiss him on the collar bone before turning over again and pushing back to let him spoon you, careful not to apply too much pressure to his flagging erection.

"You can fuck me again tomorrow, Stevie."

And tomorrow is today now, so it seems Steve is not let a second of consciousness go without allowing you to fulfill that promise.

Steve kisses you sweetly, aware of the fact that you've just woken up and are still a little groggy. But you definitely start waking up more fully when you feel him slide his hand down between your bodies to begin toying with your clit over your panties. You're already wet of course - something about being fucked repeatedly the night before had made it so that your pussy was just perpetually ready (maybe it was in cahoots with your lover). You squirm as he puts more pressure.

" 'm sensitive, Stevie," you mewl against his lips but Steve just soothes you, hi other hand smoothing circles into the flesh at your hip between your panties and your sleep tank.

"I know, baby. 'M just playing with you a little, that's all," he mumbles into your mouth. His finger switches directions on you and you roll your hips up into his hand, making him hum appreciatively. "Just gotta warm you up, yeah?"

"Yeah," you agree shakily.

Warming you up apparently means making you cum, because a short while later you're moaning and cumming in his arms, all while he sweetly kisses your cheeks, jaw, and neck.

When Steve finally divests you or your clothing and lines himself up with your entrance, you're both on your sides, with Steve behind you and your leg hitched back and up over his.

It's softer like this. Sweeter. Though he's no less eager, this isn't the same frantic fucking that filled the hours of the previous evening. And as much as you'd enjoyed yesterday's sexathon, there's something so earth shatteringly intimate about being held in Steve's arms, reclined out on your shared bed as the sun comes up on a lazy Sunday, as you're made to feel oh so good.

And that's not even mentioning Steve's words.

"You're so sexy, baby, you know that? Do you hear yourself?" he mutters into your ear at the sound of your soft gasps with each inward thrust. "So tight like this. How do you do that? Huh? Fuck you all night last night and you're still so hungry for more."

"Says the man who's had a permanent hard on since yesterday morning," you manage to huff out in good humor. He chuckles into your hair.

"You're right about that. Had to leave work early to avoid having to jerk off in the bathroom."

"That's why you were home when I got home yesterday. I thought - ah! I thought you had a long shift."

"I did. A long shift filling you up. Over. And over. And over again." He punctuates each word with a pointed thrust, hitting that part deep inside you which he'd discovered and conquered so long ago. "And I'm clocking overtime, baby."

You try to laugh at his silliness, but he’s mouthing at your neck now, his hands migrating from squeezing at your hips to squeezing at your breasts, so there’s little you can do beyond gasping.

After a while one of Steve’s hands slides down to rest over your belly. From this angle he’s not entering you quite deep enough to feel himself there, but he caresses back and forth nonetheless. When he speaks this time, his voice is even lower. Huskier.

“You’re going to be so beautiful all round with my baby.”

Your breath hitches at that and you feel a little self conscious.

“I’d be waddling and all swollen,” you try to inject seriousness into it but Steve just chuckles.

“Mm yeah, swollen,” he says as he reaches for your tits again, squeezing the weight of them and playing with your nipples till your breathing gets faster. “And even more sensitive than you already are, right? Fuck that’ll be hot.”

Steve’s mouth continues to work bruises into your neck - bruises that sure won’t be easy to explain at work come Monday - but you reach back to grab at the hair at the back of his neck, pulling him into you even more.

“You’re a sick man getting off on the idea of me being pregnant, you know that?” you tease.

“No, I’m getting off on the idea of me getting you pregnant,” Steve corrects, slamming his hips into yours from behind abruptly. It makes you cry out and cling to him. “I’m going to fill you up so much that your body can’t help but show the proof of it. And everyone in this town will know how good I am to you. How much I want you.”

It’s all too much, especially when his hand snakes down to rub at your clit when he notices the way your walls start tightening. Though just a moment ago you were coherent, you’re finding it hard to string a sentence together now.

“Want you, Stevie,” you whimper, bracing from impact. “Need you.”

“Take me, baby. Take all of me,” he grunts from behind you.

He thrusts for another minute, but you remain just on the precipice, quaking but not falling. So eventually you roll away from him onto your stomach.

“What are you…” Steve watches you get into position on your hands and knees and groans. “Babe I was trying to be all sweet to you and you want me to fuck you from behind?”

“Just fuck me, Steve, c’mon I’m close,” you say urgently, grabbing at him and shimmying your hips for emphasis. Steve leaps behind you, resheathing deep inside quick enough to have you moaning and crumpling to your elbows.

“And you’re moaning like that? I wanted to last a little longer but fuck.”

Steve sounds wrecked, which makes you so happy you’re not sure what to do with yourself. All you do know is that you need to make him cum immediately. So you put an even sharper dip in your back and begin rocking back onto his cock with each thrust, going so fast that he has to stop trying to control the motion and instead ground his knees against the mattress and use his hands on your hips to guide you back onto him.

“Yeah you want it, baby? Need my cum that bad?” Steve huffs and you let out an answering whine.

“Fill me up, Stevie, give it to me. Please.”

Maybe it’s the whine, maybe it’s the fact that you said please, or maybe it’s that you’re begging him to fill you up with his cum, but Steve explodes in that moment more suddenly and harder than he ever has in his life. He doubles over your body, pushing you into the mattress and pumping into you over and over till he’s nothing but a shaking mess of limbs on top of you.

His heavy breaths in your ear tickle, making your laughter the first sound inside the room after the cacophony of his moans. It makes Steve tighten his arms around you, pull out, and roll over so you’re now face to face.

“What are you laughing at?” he asks with a crooked, dazed smile. He holds you against you, even though you try to angle away the mess between your legs. He’s having none of that. You kiss his flushed face.

“I’m just so happy, that’s all,” you kiss your way down his jaw and to his sweaty neck. At first he hums into the feeling but then his eyes fly open at the feeling of your hips rolling unconsciously into him.

“Did you not fucking cum?” he asks accusatorially, pulling back to squint at you.

You bite your lip and lie badly.

“Of course I did…”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut in defeat and drops his head against your shoulder.

“Can’t believe you didn’t cum. This is about you.”

“Well technically,” you contradict, lifting his head up by his jaw to force him to look at you. “If it’s actually about getting me pregnant, you cumming is the most important thing.”

“Not gonna win this argument that way, baby,” Steve dismisses with a shake of his head. You chuckle again at his seriousness and roll your hips again.

“You came a lot, you know that?” Your grin is wide and cheeky. It’s too contagious, and he can’t help but smile in response, even as a deep red flush spreads from his face down his neck and chest.

“I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard before honestly.”

“Well then Happy Mother’s Day, Stevie,” you say, giving him a fat, wet kiss on the cheek. He scoffs at you but pulls you into a real kiss. It’s hot and sloppy and takes up all of your attention until you feel his hand slither between your bodies to cup the space between your legs. You gasp at the stimulation.

“Guess I really did fill you up,” Steve says smugly. His face has gone from disappointed to cocky and it suits him well. You gaze up at him and nod in agreement. One of his fingers traces a wet line down your thigh. “But some of its spilling out. Hold on, gotta fix that.”

Before another thought can pass through your head, Steve sinks three fingers deep into your heat, causing a sick squelching sound from your mixed cum. You hiss at the intrusion but immediately buck into his hand. Which is great, because it prompts him to rub the heel of his hand into your clit with each inward thrust of his fingers.

“Steve!” you cry out as he curls his fingers the way he knows you like it.

“There she is. There’s my baby,” Steve chuckles, lips centimeters from your parted ones so he can inhale your gasps. He stares into your rapidly unfocusing eyes with a mixture of amusement and admiration. “Always so good for me. Gonna be good for me a cum on my fingers now? While you’re full of me?”

You nod frantically at him and he takes that as his cue to rub more methodically at your clit. Your legs tighten around his arm, body rocking in time to his thrusts. Little gasp and whines sputter out of you as you near your end.

“Stevie…oh god…there…fuck, yeah there Stevie.”

Another few moments and you’re rocketing over the edge, seizing in his arms and pistoning at the hips against his hand. Steve holds you the whole time, working you through it with his diligent fingers till you’re a sobbing mess. Clinging to him exactly the way he’d hoped you would.

When you finally come down from your high, you’re utterly boneless, practically floating above the mattress. You blink and your eyes come into focus to find that Steve’s smile above you is so beyond pleased with himself. He’s radiating satisfaction, and not just in a smug way. His hand caresses the side of your jaw while he places a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I think that was it.”

When he pulls away, you’re left a little dazed.

“What was it?” you ask. Steve pulls fully out of your grip, much to your displeasure, and gets up to grab a pair of underwear.

“That was the one,” he singsongs with a grin.

“What one?” you ask, still confused. Steve launches himself at you, bracing himself over your reclined body to give you a light kiss on the lips.

“I think we just got you pregnant,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. Your eyes go wide before you roll them.

“There’s literally no way of knowing that,” you argue. Steve stands and shrugs.

“And yet I know. Ah ah ah, where do you think you’re going?” He holds out a hand to stop you from getting up.

“I’m gonna go clean up,” you say, but Steve gently pushes you back down.

“No, you’ve gotta lay here, maybe prop up your hips, and let all my…stuff do it’s magic.”

“Steve!” you glare at him, but he hands you a pillow.

“I’m serious! Waiting a bit will help it…I don’t know. Stick.”

“I’ve never heard of that,” you can’t help but laugh. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I read a book, I don’t know,” Steve tries to say dismissively, rubbing the back of his head and avoiding eye contact.

“A book?!” you ask, squinting up at Steve. “When? I only told you I wanted a baby yesterday!”

“Well maybe one of us is more proactive than the other, okay? Sue me!” Steve bursts out, causing you to dissolve into a puddle of laughter. You’d known how much he wanted a family, and particularly one with you, so you shouldn’t be surprised that he’d been preparing for this day. You gaze up at him with all of the love in your heart plastered on your face and you see it reflected in his growing, goofy grin.

He kisses you on the forehead one more time and turns to the door.

“Be right back.”

“Wait! If I have to stay here, where are you going?!” you call after him indignantly.

“To go make food for you and Baby Harrington,” he calls back, crossing the threshold into the hall. “You need to build your energy back up so I can fuck you all day.”

“What?! I thought you said that one was it!” you cry out, laughing fully and propping yourself up on your elbows.

Steve pops his head back in with a cheeky grin.

“Won’t hurt to be sure. You forget I was a top athlete - gotta shoot till I make it, baby!”

You drop back down on the mattress dissolved i laughter as the love of your life runs off to make you a premature Mother’s Day feast.

Even if this wasn’t the one, Steve Harrington sure is.

~*~

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I hope you enjoyed this! If you did please let me know with a reblog and a comment, it means everything!

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things smut

[denim-mixtapes]

The Nice Guy Finishes Last - (Steve Harrington/Reader)

Word Count: 6.1k

Pairing: Steve Harrington/F!Reader

Tags: Explicit Smut -- 18+ only, minors DNI. Best friends to lovers, mild jealous!reader mild possessive!steve, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, oral sex (female receiving), face sitting, p in v sex, admissions of feelings, gooey fluff in the middle of sex.

Summary: When your best friend learns that none of your previous partners have taken care of your needs before their own (let alone gotten you off at all), he decides to take matters into his own hands -- literally, but even in the throes of passion, he's still your Steve.

Crackling speakers and a Madonna record provide the soundtrack to a house party at the Harrington house as you make your rounds to visit with friends. Steve’s friends mostly. Steve and Robin are the only two in attendance you would actually call close friends, Nancy and Eddie and Vickie were friendly, of course, but outside of that small circle everyone who showed up to these things you would call an acquaintance at best, and strangers that you can’t stand at worst. 

Still, as Steve’s best friend and often the co-host of these things, you feel inclined to at least greet as many people as possible before letting loose and enjoying yourself. After quite some time and a couple watered down mixed drinks, you decide that you’ve done enough mingling and try to find your actual friends.

You half expected to see Steve wrapped up in some new girl already by the time you joined him on the couch, but bit back the bitter thought before it could show on your face. To your surprise, he’s engaged in an animated conversation with Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan Byers, who you didn’t even know was in town until you saw him sitting on that couch. His arm is snug around Nancy’s shoulder and she’s leaning on him heavily, drunk with laughter and cheeks red at whatever they’re talking about, which is a far cry from the tense arguing they had been doing the last time he was in town, but you’re happy to see her happy. 

She and Robin smile at you in greeting as you fall into the couch beside Steve heavily, the cushion bouncing your body a little on impact. 

Steve doesn’t greet you, he’s mid-sentence, but his arm wraps around your waist in a too-familiar way and pulls you closer. Robin raises her eyebrows at the pair of you, but you just glare back. 

She’s been on your back for months about your relationship with Steve, or lack thereof. You made the mistake of mentioning your feelings for him in casual conversation, and ever since then she has been insisting he feels the same way, but if that were the case, you would think the endless parade of dates and new women he brought around would at least slow down, right? Still, there have been times you were inclined to believe her. When his smile would soften when you entered a room, or he would hold on for a beat too long after hugging you. The sudden flush on his cheeks and down his chest at his pool parties when you would catch him staring. Sometimes it’s easy to pretend he might feel the same way. Either way, you’ve been best friends since elementary school, and you’d rather keep it that way than take the risk and ruin it all. 

His fingers squeeze at your waist now, and you hide your blush behind another sip of your vodka-something.  

“That’s what ‘nice guys finish last’ actually means, Byers!” He scoffs, pulling his arm from around you to lean forward into the conversation, elbows on his knees. “It’s not some lament about not getting the girl, it's about getting the girl off before you do.” 

There’s a bitterness in your throat as you scoff into your drink. You can understand why Nancy is red as a cherry now, but the comment still doesn’t sit right with you. 

“You got somethin’ to say over there, babe?” Steve asks, turning to you with a quirked brow and a challenge in his eye. 

“Yeah,” you roll your eyes and discard your empty cup on the coffee table. It cracks with the force. When you continue, you lay on the sarcasm just as heavy as he just did. “Sure do. ‘Cause most guys definitely let their partner finish at all, let alone first.” 

“Nah, nah, nah,” Steve waves your comment out of the air before his hand lands on your knee and he lays back onto the back of the couch. Looking up at you, forehead wrinkled with faux concern, he continues, stumbling over his words under the intensity of your glare. “The right guys do. You can’t tell me not one guy you’ve been with has…taken care of you first before themselves? Not a single one?” 

If your eyes could physically roll out of your head, you’re sure they would. What little liquor you’ve had is hot, liquid courage in your veins and you couldn’t hold back your candid, bitter response if you wanted to. 

“Steven,” you chide, the sound of his full name draws a chorus of ‘oooohs’ from the group around you. “I have never had a single orgasm that wasn’t from my own hands. Not one.” 

Pressure on your knee where his grip tightens at your words. His eyes darken with mirth and some heated expression you can’t quite place, and he opens his mouth to reply, but Robin interrupts. 

“Okay let’s not give Harrington another opportunity to stick his foot in his mouth,” she’s across the circle in seconds, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up off the couch. “Come on, I need another drink, you do too.” 

You put up some resistance against her hold on your wrist, but follow her without complaint. She remains wordless until you’re safe in the kitchen, where the only other soul is Jonathan’s friend Argyle, already asleep on the floor by the sliding patio door. 

“What the hell was that?” Robin whispers harshly, looking over your shoulder to make sure nobody followed. 

“What?” You replied simply, “he was being an asshole.” 

“Please,” she says with a laugh. Her tone is light and teasing as she talks, mocking your previous conversation. “Oh, Steven, nice touch by the way with his full name, Nobody’s ever made me cum before, maybe I need YOU to give it a try.” Her smile widens as your eyes do. “Jesus, it’s like you were begging him to take you upstairs here and now.” 

“I was not.” You insist, then shove her shoulder playfully when all she does is smirk. “He just says shit like that to push my buttons. I’ve confided in him before about the guys that I dated, he knows they’ve been less than stellar in bed. He was definitely trying to get under my skin. Rub it in.” 

You just barely catch her mutter under her breath, “he wants to rub something alright.” 

An annoyed groan is your only response, before pouring yourself another drink and joining the rest of the party. 

By the time the party starts winding down, most of the attendees headed home to their own beds or onto the next party and your close circle of friends each claiming a room for themselves to sleep in, you’ve sobered quite a bit. Perpetually afraid of hangovers, you made it a habit to switch to water after a certain point in the night. Especially because you were also the one who stayed up even later to clean up a bit before knocking out, yourself. The only thing worse than a hangover was being put to work while hungover, so you tried to prevent either. 

You think you’re the only one awake, stacking cups and dumping out half-drunk beers in the kitchen sink. When you go to close the curtains to the patio you notice that at some point, Argyle has moved out to the pool deck and is asleep on one of the vinyl loungers, cuddling a garden gnome. (Thinking back, you’re almost certain the Harringtons do not have any garden gnomes.)

Giggling at the sight, you shake your head and make sure the door is unlocked, just in case he decides to come back in before shutting the curtains. 

Movement and a voice behind you makes you jump. “What’s so funny?” 

You turn to the voice, knowing it belonged to your best friend before you even saw him, but still clutching your chest in surprise. “Oh uh,” you point your thumb out back, “Argyle. Snuggling with lawn ornaments.” 

Steve nods slowly, fidgeting with the empty beer can in his hand. “Sounds about right…what are you still doing up? Everyone’s asleep.” 

“I always do this,” you say, then tease, “what did you think there was some magic party fairy that always cleaned up while you slept?” 

He has the audacity to look innocent, looking around at all the mess and shrugs. “I guess I never realized how bad it was when I went to bed.” 

Yeah, because you’re usually already upstairs with the flavor of the week before everyone leaves anyway. 

You shake the bitter thought from your mind and opt for a friendly, “Yeah well, cleaning relaxes me anyway so no big deal.” 

“Here, I’ll help,” before you can even protest he continues, mumbling, “‘M not even tired, I slept until, like, 1 PM today.” 

So the two of you move through the house in a silence that sits somewhere between comfortable and not, stepping over an occasional sleeping body, collecting trash and recycling, straightening books and blankets and anything out of place. Your conversation from earlier hangs in the air, and you can hear Robin’s voice urging you to say something about it as you move through the house. It’s like a dance, his body always close to yours. You step to the side, he follows, you move on to another room, he follows, always within arms reach but never reaching out. You can feel the heat from his body nearby when you reach up on your tiptoes to grab a red plastic cup from the top of the bookshelf, just out of your reach. Before you can step away to ask for assistance, you feel his hand on your lower back, steadying you, and his chest presses up against your shoulder as he slides up behind you to reach it himself. 

He mumbles an apology and you swear you can see his cheeks pink in the dim light of the den. 

“Hey,” he starts, voice soft and close. “I’m sorry if I was an asshole earlier. I just…never mind. I was just drunk.” 

“No,” you protest, “go on. You just what?” You steel yourself for his admission, that he was just doing it to get a rise out of you, but it never comes. 

“I can’t believe it, I guess.” 

“What, that most men are the worst?” Your words are hard, but your voice is light. You cross your arms over your stomach comfortingly and lean on the armrest of the couch behind you. 

“No, that-” he pinches the bridge of his nose. You’ve known him long enough to know that this expression means he’s at a loss for words. That what he wants to say is on the tip of his tongue but he can’t bring himself to say it. A sigh. A brush of his fingers through his hair. “I mean, yeah, I guess, but I just can’t believe not one person has put your needs before their own. You deserve that. At least that, and so much more.” 

You snort, “well, keep spreading your gospel like you were to Byers earlier and maybe the trend will catch on.” You can feel yourself shrinking, your posture drawn inward at his words. You deserve that. You have to remind yourself to not twist them into something with more meaning. 

“No,” he says, firm, and with a step forward. He rests his hands on the armrest on either side of your hips, bringing his eyes down to your level. They’re sincere. The soft, sweet Steve you’ve always known, but they’re dark, pupils wide and lids heavy as he studies your face. “I’m serious. Those assholes don’t even know what they’re missing out on.” 

“I-” your breath catches in your throat. Steve’s face is so close to yours that his hair tickles your forehead. You could play connect the dots with his freckles at this proximity, and your eyes do just that, following them from his eyes, down his cheekbones and over the prominent ones on his neck. His adam's apple bobs, swallowing hard when you lift your gaze to his lips, wondering if that’s where this is headed. “What do you mean?” 

His own eyes fall to your mouth as he replies, “how drunk are you?” 

“Not at all.” 

You intend to ask him again what he means, but he’s inching even closer still. Just before he closes the gap entirely, he murmurs a soft, “good,” and then his lips are on yours, warm and wanting and insistent. He brings a hand up to your jaw, holding you in place as his lips work against your own, tongue sweeping at the seam, awaiting your consent to keep going.  They part on their own accord, granting him the access you both desperately crave. You melt into him, arms winding around his neck as his tongue brushes yours and his teeth graze your lower lip. 

This kiss has a sense of urgency, but an all around feeling of ‘finally.” He smells like the same Ralph Lauren Polo he always has, spice and pine and something a little sweet, and tastes like whiskey. You can’t seem to pull him close enough. 

Breath ragged as he breaks the kiss, his thumb strokes your lip and his chest heaves, a look of elation and a little bit of a challenge dances on his features. 

You avert your gaze, suddenly shy once again, cheeks warm and lips pressed into a thin line as you study the floor. 

“Look at me,” he says, thumb on your chin and pulling your attention back up from the ground. “I’ll say it again. Those assholes don’t know what they’re missing out on, because if you look like this after one kiss,” he pauses to run his fingertips over the deepening color on your cheeks, down the length of your neck, and along the collarbone rising and falling with your rapid breath, eyes following the path his fingers drew. “I can only imagine how spectacular you look as you cum.” You bite your lip in an attempt to stop another grin, and he stands abruptly, startling you with his sudden change in demeanor and taking a few steps back. His hands rake through his hair as he paces, then land on his hips as he turns back to face you. 

Unsure of what to say, you giggle out a soft, “their loss I guess?”

“No fucking kidding,” Steve muses, bringing onefist up to rest his chin as he studies you. This new side of you he’s never been granted access to, flushed and breathless and still somehow shy, lips wet and pink and parted as you wait for him to respond. “God, if I were them...if given the opportunity I would-” He cuts himself off. Presses his lips together to hold in whatever it was he was about to admit. He looks away this time, a hint of worry in his eyes. 

You reach out with your foot to kick his own softly, your socked toes nudging against his ankle playfully. “You’d what?” 

“Full honesty?” He asks. It’s something you’ve been doing since you were kids. In serious moments, in moments of struggle or heavy emotion, if either of you asked for full honesty, the other would give it without question. You nod. His eyes darken again as he mulls the words over in his head. Then, meeting your eyes with a renewed intensity he says, “well, I’d get you to three before I was even undressed.” 

Not for the first time tonight, your breath stutters, catching in your throat at his admission. You itch to respond, inside your head you’re screaming to say something clever, or even just say anything, but you’re just sitting there on the armrest of the couch, looking up at your best friend with this dumbstruck expression. 

He can see your internal struggle, the awestruck look in your eyes, and the hint of a smile twitches at the corners of his lips, but he’s still been left hanging, vulnerable. So he asks, “what’s going on in your head? Full honesty.” 

“I’m-” You hesitate. Your heart is racing, and there’s so much you want to tell him. So much more than orgasms and the order in which they should be given. So much more than playdates and best friends and platonic I love you’s, but he’s looking at your lips again and all you can think about is how much you need to feel his against them again, so you decide that the feelings talk will have to wait. You settle on a hushed, “I’m thinking that you’ve had that opportunity for a while…and that I might lose my mind if you don’t kiss me again, Harrington.” You were speaking to the floor, a little unsure, looking at the spot just in front of his feet, but when his name leaves your tongue, you finally look back up at him. He’s just as stunned as you had been, his mouth agape and eyes studying you for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he’s back on you in seconds, grip on your chin once more as he bends to meet your lips. You stand, slowly, pressing your chest to him, needing to be closer. 

He doesn’t seek permission this time, licking into your mouth with a hot, hungry enthusiasm. Greedy hands wrap around your waist, exploring the expanse of your back, up your neck to fist in your hair, down to rest on your ass and squeeze. Your own rest on his chest, keeping you steady as he kisses you senseless. Static fills your brain, fuzzy, warm, and all you can smell is Steve. 

This is the Steve you always dreamed of kissing. All roaming hands and hot skin and hungry kisses. He moves with a confidence you only ever saw through jealous eyes, but now that he’s in your arms it’s addicting. Self assured, confident hands creep below your cheeks and wrap around your upper thighs, lifting without a word, breaking your kiss and drawing a squeal from you as you’re swept off your feet. You wrap your legs around his waist for stability, and place a hand on his neck, grinning down at him from your new vantage point. He busies himself with your neck, nosing along your pulse, breathing you in. A sloppy kiss here, a gentle peck there, scraping teeth against your pulse point as he explores your skin. He stops when he notices your breath hitch, smirking into your skin and knowing he’s found a sweet spot. He focuses his attention there, another bite soothed by the caress of his tongue before he latches on and sucks. 

A whimper falls from your lips, your hand grabbing hold of the long hair at the nape of his neck. “Steve-” you whine, torn between pushing him away and holding him there in that very spot, “don’t - people are gonna notice.” Even in your haze, you’re worried about what people might say, knowing that everyone in this house will know exactly who left those marks, come morning. 

“Let ‘em talk.” He mumbles into your flesh, looking up at you through fanned lashes before nipping his way across your throat to give the other side the same attention. “Been wanting this for so long...gonna mark you up however I want, show everyone you’re mine.” He practically growls the last word before craning his neck for another feverish kiss. 

Steve walks you around the couch and sits back into it, pressing your knees to the plush cushion on either side of him. His hands roam again, fingers play at the strip of exposed skin between your top and jeans, hook in your belt loops, creep up your spine beneath your shirt. 

Gripping the edges of your top, he raises a brow in question. “Can I…” he doesn’t finish the question, just taps the skin where his hands rest. 

You’re about to nod, but movement in the next room stops you both. There’s a shuffle, some footsteps, and then the bathroom door closes. 

You both look at the entry to the den, an open arched doorway with no actual door to be seen. A fit of giggles threatens to escape, but Steve holds a finger to his lips and taps your hips so that you stand. You poke your head out the doorway, making sure the bathroom door is still closed. It is, so you make a break for it, Steve hot on your heels and both of you hushing your laughter as you run up the stairs and try to make it to his bedroom before anyone else wakes up or your friend in the bathroom comes back out. 

The door clicks behind you. Stood in front of it, giggling, you look on as Steve sits on the edge of his unmade bed and leans back on his elbows. Your laughter subsides as he looks you up and down, his once soft, fond simile turning devious as you both remember where you had been just moments before. 

You lock the door quickly before padding across the carpet to stand in front of him, and he sits up fully, gripping your waist again and nosing at your stomach. He lifts the hem of your shirt and places an open mouthed kiss on your hip bone, smirking up at you when you gasp at the action. 

“Where were we?” He asks, inching the fabric even higher. Your nod is near imperceptible but he notices, and he’s pulling the garment up and over your head and tossing it aside. “Oh,” he chuckles in disbelief and shakes his head. His hands cover his face, rubbing his eyes and then reach out for you, finding purchase on your neck and waist, pulling you down into him. It’s like neither of you can believe you’ve wound up here. “C’mere.” 

His lips find yours again, fingers splaying across the cups of your bra, teasing along the lace trim. Without warning, he flips you, your body bouncing lightly on the mattress. Eyes raking your body with admiration, he pulls at the cups of your bra, exposing your breasts to his gaze and the cool air. Your nipples perk under his stare and the chill, and you already know that your flush has made its way down your chest, but Steve is looking at you in awe and you’re already touch drunk before he’s even gotten started. He continues his earlier assault on your neck, moving on even lower to bite and suck deep purple marks into the swell of your breast, lapping at one nipple hungrily while tweaking the other with his fingers before switching to give each side equal attention. You keen at the pinch of his fingers, arching into his touch with a whine. The way he looks at you floods your core with arousal, and you don’t realize that you’re doing it, but you push on his shoulder to urge him further south. 

He tsks, “little eager, are we?” 

You huff, hiding in your hands, dragging them down your face and grinning at the ceiling. “Shut up.”

The pop of the button on your jeans is his only response. Your pulse races, tiny fires igniting along your skin wherever he touches as he drags your pants down your legs. He settles himself on the floor, gripping your ankles and pulling you to the very edge of the bed. His gaze zeroes in on your core, the little wet patch on your panties making his mouth water. He looks like a man starved, like he could absolutely devour you, and he intends to. 

Wasting no time, he dives in, sucking another mark into your thigh before turning his head to mouth at your clothed mound. His nose brushes against your clit through the fabric, and it feels like lightning to your nerves. You cry out, hands balling into fists in his sheets as he groans at your wetness. He plucks at your waistband with his teeth, letting it snap back into your skin once before deciding now is not the time to tease and finally pulling them off. 

Steve rests his head on your thigh, smiling innocently up at you when he reaches out to drag a digit between your folds, collecting your arousal on his fingertip and circling your clit once before bringing the finger to his mouth and sucking it clean. He lets out another heady groan, eyes closing as he gets his first taste of you, and then returns to the task at hand. He swipes between your lips again, prodding at your entrance before thrusting in with two fingers. Your responding moan takes you by surprise and has you clamping a hand over your mouth. 

“Don’t hold back, baby,” he urges, pressing a kiss into your thigh where his head rests. Fingers pump in and out, his thumb rubbing tight circles around your bundle of nerves. “Everyone else is asleep, and they’re all downstairs. I wanna hear you.” You clench around his fingers at that, drawing unison moans from both of you. Steve mutters praise into your skin as he fucks you with his fingers, curling them every so often to stroke that sweet spot inside you. “That’s it, let it out,” when you let out another high-pitched moan. “So wet for me, doin’ so well,” when your hips stutter to meet his touch even faster. “You smell so good, baby, I can’t wait to get my mouth on you.” 

Your pleasure coils tight and low in your belly, and you hold Steve’s gaze for as long as you can stand. The intensity of his stare and the press of his fingers to your core is all too much and you’re already so close to the edge. He can tell, and he smirks, sinking a third finger into you on his next thrust. “C’mon,” he urges, pumping faster, working harder at your nub. “Let go for me.” 

You do as he says. Skin prickling and toes curling, your orgasm takes over you. Head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, you cry out your pleasure as he works you through it. Every thrust of his fingers sends another shockwave through you, but he takes mercy and moves his thumb, giving your sensitive clit a much needed break. He’s stroking you lazily now. No urgency to his touch, but just enough to keep you on edge, keep you wanting more. 

The laugh that he gives is cocky, downright devilish as he says, “That’s one.” 

You throw an arm over your closed eyes, giggling at the comment and shaking your head. Even with his fingers buried deep inside you and his breath ghosting your pussy, he’s still the same old Harrington. 

“I get it Steve, you made your point.” 

“Uh-uh.” He says, shaking his own head. He withdraws his fingers and you whimper at the loss, clenching around nothing when he once again licks the digits clean. He crawls back up your body, stopping to hover over you with a fist on either side of your head. Leaning down he gives you another messy, hurried kiss. “I believe I promised you three.” Just as quickly as last time, Steve rolls again, shuffling higher onto the bed and pulling your body atop his. You both groan as your hips settle on his clothed, hard cock. His hips thrust up into you, the rough denim of his jeans a new, delicious kind of friction that has you whining into his mouth. Settling heavier into his pillows, Steve’s hands grip your hips and urge you forward. You break the kiss, scandalized at what you think he’s suggesting. You sit back, lips bitten and swollen and red, cheeks hot. You want to shake your head, tell him that’s not something you’re into but he looks so eager. Another hushed, “c’mere,” tumbles from him and you’re letting him guide you forward. 

Your thighs cage him in, and his arms wrapped around them hold you steady. You’re hovering just above his smug grin, and instead of making some smart comment, you reach down to run your fingers affectionately through his hair. His tongue laps at your entrance, circling your hole with a pointed tip before dipping inside. His nose bumps at your clit with his fervor, and you mewl at the sensation. The lower half of his face is covered by your cunt, wet and sloppy and slick, tongue gliding through your folds. He groans, eating you out like a man starved being offered the most delectable meal. Your legs shake with the effort to keep still. Steve takes notice, reaching for your hips to shift you forward, pulling your full weight onto him. 

You yelp, tumbling forward and steadying yourself with a firm grip on the headboard. He guides you from there, rocking your hips against his mouth. Your shallow pants fill the room, and the sounds coming from Steve are downright obscene. Wet, greedy sounds, paired with a moan that sends vibrations through your whole core. If you weren’t already wet enough, his hungry, desperate sounds keep sending shockwaves through you, and he tilts your hips forward so that he can wrap his lips around your clit, tongue sweeping over it insistently. The pressure in your belly returns, your thighs clenching on either side of his face as your vision goes out of focus. You barely mutter a needy, “close,” before another orgasm rips through you, throwing your head back with another wild moan and gripping the headboard with both hands. 

Steve doesn’t let up. 

Not only does he work your through your second orgasm, but he keeps you right on the edge of a third; sucking desperately at your lower lips, fucking into you with his tongue, humming around your clit to send vibrations straight through you. You didn’t know it was possible to be this close again this quickly, but Steve has you singing his praises and whining his name as he makes you cum for the third time that night. 

Your thighs quake, your head resting heavily against your arms on the headboard, and you can’t stop the bubble of a laugh from escaping your lips. You’re giddy, drunk on Steve, utterly exhausted but desperate for more. He slows, still lapping at your wetness and working you down from two over-the-top orgasms. When it all becomes too much, your hips twitch back, overstimulated, and he takes the hint, kissing your thigh gently and helping you down onto the mattress beside him. 

Steve leans up on his elbow, hovering over you with a dreamy look plastered on his smug face. You reach out for him, pulling his face to yours and tasting yourself on his tongue. It’s sinful, how much the taste of your arousal on his tongue only turns you on more, and you find yourself reaching for the hem of his shirt. Breaking apart only to allow the shirt to slip over his head, then he’s back on you, a little distracted trying to undo his pants, but unable to keep his lips off of you for another second longer. 

Jeans tossed aside, kicked off his legs as if they offended him, you reach out to palm him through his boxers, savoring the animalistic grunt that it pulls from him, and pull back the waistband, reaching in to fist his cock. His lips part, forehead resting on your own as you stroke him, panting and disheveled above you. You shift up onto your knees and crawl down the bed a little further, hovering in front of his member as you stroke, drooling. 

He stops you with his thumb and forefinger on your chin, pulling you back up the bed. 

“As much as I would love – and trust me I would love – for you to suck my dick, this night will be over a lot quicker than I’d like it to be if you do…” He holds your face with both hands and presses a heated kiss to your lips, “...and I know you’ve still got one more in you, don’t you?” 

You only nod dumbly, lower lip captured between your teeth, and Steve chuckles as he reaches across you to fish in the bedside table for a condom. He makes quick work of tearing open the packet and rolling it on, then he’s hovering over you once again, reaching down to trail his fingers through your wetness one more time. He grins when you give a weak, spent moan, and bumps your nose with his own. A twinkle of the Steve you know and love, a familiar smile and soft eyes. He kisses you softly, a tender contrast to the dirty talk and rough hands from before, and works himself into you slowly, letting you savor the stretch. He bottoms out with a huff, and peppers kisses over your cheekbones. He stays that way until you’re whining for it and gripping at his hair, nails digging into his scalp. 

Pulling almost all the way out, he thrusts slowly once, twice, and then you give a deep moan and he lets go. The room fills with the wet slap of skin on skin as he fucks you, groaning, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. His sense of urgency is back, like the only thing on his mind now that he’s inside you is getting you off again. 

Your hips buck off the mattress to meet his as white hot pleasure licks up your spine. Already thoroughly fucked out, you know you won’t last much longer, a fact that would embarrass you any other day but when Steve smiles at you and snakes his hand between your bodies to toy with your clit, you know no shame. 

Steve invades all your senses, his cologne and musk surround you, his ragged breathing ringing in your ears. You can taste his sweat on your tongue and every inch of your skin he touches is alight with pleasure. 

“One more,” he pleads, hips stuttering. He’s close, chasing his own release but holding back just enough to drag another from you first. His fingers pick up speed and his teeth graze the shell of your ear, whispering, “just gimme one more, cum for me one more time, baby.” 

His words scorch your skin, hot and heavy in your ear. Your heart is racing, but so is his, pulse thrumming against your hands when you reach out to pull him into a final bruising kiss by the neck. 

You moan your release into his open mouth, biting onto his lower lip and walls squeezing around him one last time. Steve isn’t far behind you, his pace faltering as he thrusts into you and stilling as he spills into the condom, forehead on yours and eyes screwed shut. 

Both of you stay that way for a while, quiet, breathing each other in. Your hand absently plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, and he dusts little kisses along your collarbone. When he does pull out, it's with a shudder and a sigh, and he turns away only briefly to toss the condom into the trash. Searching the bed blindly, he finds his top sheet and pulls it up to cover your lower halves and pulls you in to spoon him, one arm wrapped around your middle, the other playing with your hair. 

There’s never been a more comfortable silence between the two of you, and here in his arms, facing the darkness of his room, you feel a surge of bravery. Taking his hand, you play with his fingers and breathe deeply. 

“Hey, Stevie?” 

“Hmm?” His voice is quiet, just as content and sleep heavy as yours. A kiss on the crown of your head. 

“Was this…this wasn’t just a one time thing, right? Full honesty.” 

His hold on you tightens, “I sure hope not.” 

You beam into the darkness before you and snuggle in closer. “Good,” you mumble. “‘Cause I think I’m kinda in love with you.” 

“Yeah,” he grips your hand tighter and brings it above your head to place a kiss on your knuckles. “Yeah, I know the feeling. I think I’ve been in love with you for years.” 

You let the quiet take over, then. There’ll be much more to talk about in the morning, when the sun is up and you’ve both rested, but you’re about to fall asleep in his arms with this new and somehow familiar feeling of comfort surrounding you. This is home, Steve is home…and he’s damn generous in bed.

#steve harrington/reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things reader insert #stranger things x reader #x reader #smut

[katyswrites]

put on your records (and regret me)

PART 3 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: asshole!Steve, rivals-to-lovers, swearing, alcohol use, recreational weed use, descriptions of puking/hangovers, no use of y/n, not quite smut but we're getting close folks

Wordcount: 4.3k

Playlist

You love WAMC-Hawkins, Indiana’s top college radio station. It’s your safe space, your niche. It’s where you’ve made your friends, your favorite place to be when the rest of the world gets to be just a bit too much. Well, with one exception.

Steve Harrington is a thorn in your side. And just as well - he thinks you’re a royal pain in the ass. But in your senior year, you’re both on the e-board, so you have to work together. You love to hate him. So why can’t you get him out of your head? And, why do you find yourself going to see his band, each and every weekend?

Underground basement concerts, spinning old records, and screaming matches in the vinyl library with the boy you love to hate. An enemies-to-lovers college radio station 90s AU.

TRACK 3

You don’t see Steve for nearly a week after that - you hang around the radio station quite a bit, as you usually do, but never manage to run into him. You should be thankful for that - for how peaceful it is. It’s not even like you want to see him - no, why would you? He’s a pain in your ass, and you should be thankful that you can do your job in peace. 

No, it’s not actually at the station that you see him next - though, it’s tangentially related. You’re at perhaps your second-favorite place in the world - Varsity Vinyl, the local record shop downtown. It has some of the best selection you’d seen, and you always find yourself there - buying for your own growing record collection, or rooting through the used and discounted bin to help stock the station’s vinyl library. It’s where you find yourself on a Saturday afternoon, flipping through records while figuring how much money you actually realistically are able to spend.

You don’t see him, not at first. He’s standing further down the aisle, and when you finally look up and spot him, you nearly jump - he’s just staring at you, eyes wide. You straighten up, just holding eye contact - you feel like two wild animals sizing each other up, deciding whether to run or fight. You’re truly deciding between those two options when he clears his throat.

“Oh - uh, hey,” he says, quieter than you had expected.

“Hey.”

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, a beat of silence passing between you. Then, you both find yourselves speaking at once:

“Your party was fun the other night -”

“Are you okay -”

You both pause, and you awkwardly laugh.

“Sorry, uh - the party was fun last weekend. Thanks,” you say quietly.

Steve shrugs.

“Oh, yeah - glad you came. You… you seemed like you were having a good time.”

Like I made an absolute fool of yourself, more like, you think to yourself.

“Oh! I mean - I guess. Sorry if I got a little - uh -”

“It’s fine, don’t worry - we’ve had worse,” Steve assures.

He hasn’t said anything about bringing you home. Part of you is convinced that Eddie was misinformed, and Steve didn’t actually bring you home that night - that is, if it wasn’t for that stupid note. The note you probably should have thrown out, but stuck into a desk drawer instead - to refer to later, just to make sure you weren’t crazy, you had reasoned.

But now, Steve is standing in front of you, more quiet and withdrawn than you’ve ever seen in the past four years of knowing him.

“So, uh - thanks,” you say quickly, almost mumbling.

“For what?” he asks, confused.

“For, um, getting me home safe - I don’t really remember it, but -”

He waves you off. “Oh, that - don’t worry about it. The hardest part was getting you to tell me your address,” he says, laughing. “You were wasted.”

You groan. “That’s…embarrassing.”

He smirks. “Honestly, yeah, a little bit. But most people were gone by then, so… your secret’s safe with me.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“I mean - I’m surprised you didn’t tell everybody - how I was, you know, throwing up all over your apartment, being a drunk idiot -”

Why didn’t he? It’s leverage - a way to make people lose respect for you, and gain more for him. A part of this stupid, pointless power battle you two seem to always be involved in, seeing how far you can push one another. His response is unexpected.

“You don’t actually think that little of me, do you?”

You don’t really know how to answer that.

He scoffs. “Look, it’s not my fault that you can’t hold your alcohol for shit. But, I’m not going to go around telling everyone that, okay? Christ -”

He trails off, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re welcome, though.”

You suddenly feel like a bit of an asshole - Steve is used to you throwing insults his way, but this time, it seems to have struck a chord with him.

“I was in a really bad way, wasn’t I?” you ask quietly, avoiding eye contact.

He nods. “Honestly? Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. You really don’t remember?”

You shake your head, face feeling flushed with embarrassment. He just sighs.

“What do you remember?”

You rack your brain for a moment, biting your lip absentmindedly as you think.

“Um - I remember playing Kings with everyone… and, uh…”

I remember you coming in from the porch with what’s-her-face on your arm -

“-and it gets fuzzy after that,” you say quickly.

“Oh, okay - wow, that’s pretty early on. Well, you did some shots with Eddie and Robin - you got on the kitchen table at one point ... I think you threw up over my balcony… and after that I, uh, hung out with you in the bathroom while you threw up some more, and brought you home.”

You freeze. “Wait - you babysat me, like, the whole time? I thought that was Eddie -”

“No way, Eddie was too high to help anyone. I was stone-cold sober by that point, thanks to you.”

“Oh,” you say, wishing you could sink into the floor. Steve fucking Harrington knew what you looked like keeled over a toilet and puking your guts out… dammit.

“It was pretty gnarly, but… it’s fine. Really, it’s okay.”

For maybe the first time in his life, it sounds like Steve is being sincere with you. Another beat of silence passes, then he’s clearing his throat again.

“So… you have any big plans tonight? A repeat of last weekend, maybe?” he asks casually. You furrow your brow, confused.

“Um - do you actually care?”

He shrugs. “So what if I do?”

“Well - no, after last weekend I’m not sure if I ever want to drink again -”

“The most famous lie ever told,” he cuts in, grinning. You just roll your eyes, and pretend to be interested in perusing the records as you return to flipping through the crates.

“-but it just so happens that I do have plans tonight,” you say quietly.

“Hot date?”

You scoff. “I’m going to Fuze Box. Nancy’s covering some bands for an article for the campus paper, and I figured I’d check out who's playing tonight.”

WAMC has a long-standing relationship with Fuze Box, a small music venue for local artists and college bands. A lot of students and station members play there, and shows at the Box get advertised a lot on the air. You try to go to local gigs as much as you can - though, you haven’t made as much of an effort lately, too overwhelmed by other responsibilities as station manager. Nancy’s article is a good excuse to go, for the first time all semester.

“So, you don’t know any of the bands playing tonight?” he asks, leaning against a shelf and crossing his arms.

You shake your head. “Nope - just figured I’d check it out, go in blind. Maybe I’ll even put some of the bands in my radio slot next week, if they’re selling CDs or something.”

Steve grins mischievously.

“Right - well, have fun, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname, and know that any semblance of an awkward peace between you two is gone - the Steve you know and love (to hate) is back. You turn to make a clever retort, but he’s gone, having stalked off to a different aisle.

You’re not sure what he’s up to, but part of you now has a sneaking suspicion that he might show up at the venue tonight just to piss you off - it’s such a Steve move.

As you go to the checkout, you do your best to shake it - after all, what’s the worst that can happen?

*****

“Thank you - we’ve been Lime of Decision - goodnight!” the lead singer shouts, a collection of hollers and applause following. The lights go up a bit, some venue staff coming out to the stage to adjust the equipment for the next band.

“Lime Of Decision is… a choice,” Nancy says, scribbling something into her notebook.

“Yeah, that’s because their name is literally meant to be a joke,” you say absentmindedly.

“What?”

“Jason, the lead singer? His ex-girlfriend is in a band called Lemon Of Choice, so it’s like…funny. I think.”

Nancy chuckles, shaking her head.

“Which band is better?”

“Definitely hers,” you say immediately.

You and Nancy both stare at each other for a moment, and break into a fit of giggles.

“I’m going to get another drink, you want anything?” she asks.

You shake your head, holding up the cup of beer you’re still nursing from the beginning of the last band’s set.

She disappears into the crowd, and you sigh, taking a drink as you once again survey the room. If Steve actually is here, you haven’t spotted him yet - maybe he decided that getting on your nerves wasn’t worth actually paying the cover at the door. Or, maybe he actually had more important plans - maybe even with that girl he was all cozy with at the party -

You stop yourself - why do you care? If anything, it should be a good thing that he doesn’t seem to be here. 

There’s two more bands left to go - you had glanced at the flier on the way in, but only recognized Lime Of Decision in the lineup. So, when Nancy returns with a new drink and the lights begin to dim again, you just hope the next band is better - it can really be hit or miss at these sorts of shows.

Darius, the radio station’s tech engineer, is emceeing the show. He steps out on stage to introduce the next band, earning a smattering of cheers and hollers thrown in his direction.

“Alright, alright everyone! Settle down - that includes you, Hagan - Jesus Christ, okay - can we give it up for the amazing bands we’ve heard so far tonight?”

You clap along with the rest of the crowd, rolling our eyes at the sound of particularly rowdy hollers from the back that you just know comes from Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin.

Darius’ eyes narrow.

“Dammit, Munson - when I said a month-long ban, I meant it -”

You glance back to see Eddie flipping Darius off - famously, Corroded Coffin got a temporary suspension from Fuze Box for smoking weed in the green room. But, the ban actually being enforced… not likely.

Darius rolls his eyes, struggling to get the room back on track as he taps the microphone.

“Okay, okay - everyone, can we please - if you all can shut the fuck up - okay, whatever. The next band up tonight - you guys know and love. They’re a Fuze Box favorite - and no, they are not promising anything with the name. Give it up for Free Beer!

You can’t help but laugh at the band’s name - you instinctively turn to Nancy, who is doing her best to stifle a giggle as she writes something on her notepad, squinting in the dark.

It’s during those few seconds while you’re looking away that the band takes the stage - which is why, when you glance back, you freeze as you see who’s standing front-and-center.

Steve stands at the mic stand, an electric guitar slung over his shoulders as he smiles at the crowd.

You freeze. Other band members - including Robin and Argyle, who you know all too well from the radio station - come out onto the stage behind him. But you’re just staring at Steve, dumbfounded.

You knew he had a band - scheduling them to perform on the air was always a nightmare for you, which you knew Steve did on purpose. So, you had never learned anything about them on-principle. You hadn’t heard a lick of music, didn’t know who else was in it, or even the goddamn name - until right now.

Nancy’s eyes are on you, you can feel it. You turn briefly to look at her.

“Do you want to leave?” she asks, glancing at where Steve stands on stage. You shake your head.

“God, no! I - I’m an adult, I can be in the same room as Harrington,” you say, laughing nervously. You’re not sure how much you believe yourself. She stares at you for a moment, then just nods, turning her attention back to the stage, where Steve is stepping up to the mic.

“Hey guys - we’re Free Beer. I’m Steve -”

A few feminine voices cheer from the back. Your eyes roll so far to the back of your head that you’re worried you’ll go blind.

“Thanks, ladies, love the enthusiasm. So - let’s just get into it. Ready to hear some songs?”

There’s an eruption of cheers through the audience - one of the biggest reactions of the night so far.

“Alright - this one is called ‘Closer,’ I hope you enjoy.”

From the moment he plays the first chord, something shifts in the room. The crowd becomes less rowdy, less chatty. No - everyone is really listening. Some are even singing along - how the fuck do this many people know the words? 

You want to hate it - you want the set to be something you’re tolerating, something that makes you look forward to the next band coming out. But, despite your efforts, that’s not what happens. Because the band is good. Robin is killer on bass, and Argyle is a formidable drummer, despite his perpetually laid-back persona. And Steve - it’s like he was born to do this.

Aside from having a pretty good voice, and being an excellent guitarist, he’s actually a good frontman. He’s charismatic, knows how to work the crowd, and somehow, he makes the tiny stage of the Fuze Box feel as exciting as Live Aid. 

You want to scream - of course he’s good. You catch yourself moving along to the music every now and then, and immediately stop yourself, hoping nobody sees. At one point, you swear Steve sees you. His eyes land on yours - or, at least, in your direction. You think you imagine it - it’s a big enough crowd, and you’re far enough back that he probably can’t see past the first few rows. That is, until he smirks, in the way that you know he reserves only to taunt you, to challenge you.

Fuck.

*****

You find yourself heading down the hallway after Steve’s set - you’re looking for the bathroom, shouldering through the bodies packed into the narrow passage. Part of it is because your beer has finally gone through you, and more so because you need a minute of peace and quiet, just to stare at yourself in the mirror and talk some sense into yourself. Steve’s band can’t be good - that would be a problem. If you didn’t know who was part of it, they’re the kind of band you would buy records for, keep a spare CD in your car, and even include as part of your radio show. But…it's Steve.

You had purposely never gone to any of his shows - you never listened to any in-studio sessions they did at the station, and God knows you would never ask Steve about his music. What the fuck?

Part of you also wants to smack him - of course he was performing here tonight - he looked you in the eye at the record store today, heard you were coming here tonight, and said nothing. Next time you see him, you decide, you’ll ignore him - you won’t even acknowledge that you saw him perform. If he asks, you’ll tell him you left the show early, long before he came on stage. You won’t give him the satisfaction of thinking you sat through his whole set, let alone enjoyed it.

You can’t exactly remember where the bathroom is - was it all the way at the end of the hallway? None of the doors are really labeled, which tracks for Fuze Box.

You knock on a few doors and jiggle the handles - one is an electrical closet, the other is locked and seemingly empty. You finally reach a door at the end, and give it a gentle knock - nobody responds. You try the knob, and it gives way. After shouldering your way inside, you wish you hadn’t.

Apparently, instead of the bathroom, you’ve managed to find the green room - although, to call the backstage area of the Fuze Box a green room is generous. It’s really a tiny room with a worn out couch, a cracked glass coffee table littered with ashtrays, and lighting so dim that you have to squint to figure out exactly where you are as you slip through the door.

It’s only once you’re inside, when it’s too late, that you realize you’ve walked in on Steve.

His back is turned to you, but he jumps slightly and turns when he hears the door open. He’s wiping his brow with a towel, and he grins when he sees you.

“Hey, sweetheart - wasn’t expecting to see you back here.”

You stand in the doorway awkwardly - why couldn’t the rest of his band be hanging out here with him? That way, you could throw out a blanket ‘you guys were great’ statement. But now it’s just him, staring at you, his face saying why the fuck are you here?

“Oh - sorry - I’m in the wrong room,” you say quickly, your face feeling hot as you start to back away.

“Okay - sure you are,” Steve says sarcastically.

“What does that mean?” you ask, stopping your retreat.

He shrugs. “Don’t know - you just seem to always conveniently stumble into me, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Try to stop me.”

There’s a moment of silence, and you just groan with frustration, taking a few steps towards him.

“Jesus, I - I don’t know if it’s like, a weird sick game to you, or you’re just always trying to piss me off - or if you just can’t help and flirt with everyone -”

“You think I’m flirting with you?” he asks, grinning mischievously.

You stop, folding your arms in indignation.

“No - I mean, kind of, but probably as a joke - I know what you’re up to, Harrington.”

“And what exactly am I up to?”

“This bullshit you keep pulling,” you say, gesturing between you two. “This - like, always sabotaging my shit, and getting in my way - but then like, this stupid nice-guy thing, where you drive me home when I’m drunk and don’t tell anyone, but then like you trick me into watching your stupid band perform -”

He scoffs. “Trick you? Be serious -”

“You knew I’d be here tonight - you knew, and didn’t say anything -”

“Well given your track record, sweetheart, if you had known I’d be playing, I’m sure you would’ve been front row!”

You stop mid-sentence, mouth hanging open as you try to search inwardly for a reply. Your face feels hot all of a sudden.

He’s smirking now, just like he did on stage. As always, he’s too confident, too sarcastic, too Steve. He’s taken away your ability to even come up with a halfway decent retort. It pisses you off.

“I - that’s not -”

Your blood is rushing to your head, roaring in your ears, too enraged to even let you think straight anymore. You’re marching right up to him now, prodding his chest with your finger.

“I don’t like you,” you say. 

“You don’t say?” he drawls, still smiling. Why is he smiling?

“Stop doing that -”

“Doing what?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“Stop distracting me -”

“I distract you?”

You want to kick yourself.

“I - well - only because you’re so -”

“Devilishly handsome?”

“-fucking annoying.”

He cocks his head, like you’ve only mildly piqued his curiosity instead of insulted him.

You sigh. “What?”

“It’s just - you didn’t seem to find me very annoying last weekend when you tried to kiss me.”

A beat. You just stand there, jaw agape as his words hang in the air between you like smoke on a hazy summer’s day.

“That’s not funny,” you manage to say.

“Does it look like I’m laughing?”

You’re suddenly aware of how close you are to him - the next band has started outside, a distant din that should be distracting. But all you can focus on is Steve - the beads of sweat on his forehead, the way you’re close enough to smell that he had just had a cigarette.

“I didn’t -”

“Sweetheart - right before you puked your guts up in my bathroom, you tried to stick your tongue down my throat. Don’t worry - I didn’t let you. I really thought you would’ve remembered, until I saw you in the record store - then I realized you didn’t remember jack shit.”

You feel like you’re making this up. He’s just saying this to get under your skin - he must be. It’s the only explanation. Because you’d never - 

“You’re lying.”

But he’s just staring at you, and you’re starting to get the sickening suspicion that this isn’t a joke.

“You’re lying,” you repeat, though it sounds more like a question this time.

He’s taking another step towards you, shaking his head.

“You know what they say, sweetheart - in vino vesco, or whatever. You know - how people say and do what they’re really thinking when they’re drunk -”

“Veritas.”

He stops, furrowing his brow.

“I - what?”

You can’t help yourself - you just can’t.

“The phrase is in vino veritas - it means truth. I think vesco means food or something, you’re missing the whole  -”

“Shut up,” he says. “You’re always such a -”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you’re kissing him. You don’t mean to do it, you swear - but he had gotten so close, the heat radiating off of him too much to ignore. And, he was really pissing you off - you didn’t need to hear another word out of his mouth.

You fist your hands in his t-shirt, your lips on his, messy and desperate, like you’re trying to prove a point. And he’s kissing you back.

Steve kisses the same way he argues - he’s aggressive, his hands coming up to grab your face and pull you closer. He tastes like cigarettes and cheap beer, his aura hot and desperate as it envelops you. 

The band plays out in the venue, the audience cheering and singing along - but, all you can hear is Steve’s labored breath against your lips, your own heart thudding in your chest.

The kiss was all teeth and tongue, another argument you were both desperate to win. But, right now, you’re losing. Because he’s guiding your body, and you’re responding, stepping backwards until your back is hitting the cinderblock wall.

No words are spoken, just breathy moans and the sounds of your lips moving in unison. It’s not remotely romantic - it feels more like fuck you, I’m trying so hard to hate you, why can’t you let me -

One of his hands has traveled down to your waist, gripping it firmly enough to tell you that he wanted more. You feel his hand start to move, slipping under the hem of your shirt and gently brushing the warm skin of your lower back. His hands are calloused, rough against the softness of your skin. You let him start to explore, unable to stop yourself from quietly moaning against his lips. 

You know you should stop - but you can’t. It’s addicting, the way he’s still fighting with you as his tongue enters your mouth. Is this really happening? Maybe this could’ve gone on for hours. That is, until -

The knock on the door makes you both jump, pulling apart as quickly as you had crashed together. Steve is staring at you, breathing heavily, his pupils blown and lips a bit swollen. You imagine you look similarly. He takes a step back, separately himself from where you’re still frozen against the wall.

“Yeah?” Steve calls, voice rougher than before.

“Are you decent?” a voice asks from the other side of the door, barely audible over the sound of the band currently on stage.

Steve looks like he’s fighting laughter, but he just shakes his head, back facing the doorway.

“Nope - you’re good,” he says, his eyes meeting yours again.

He doesn’t need to say it - the look he’s shooting your way is enough.

Not a word.

Robin enters, grinning.

“Hey, we were just going to - oh, hi.”

She’s spotted you, and you just know she has questions.

“Hey, Robin,” you say quietly. “I, uh - I was looking for the bathroom. Ended up in here - I was just telling Steve how much I liked your set.”

Robin beams. “Thanks! It’s fun to see that you came out - haven’t seen you at a gig in a while!”

You nod. “Oh, yeah - I’ve been trying to get myself out there more -”

Steve scoffs, and you want to slap him. If Robin notices, she doesn’t say anything.

“- but, um - I should go.”

Robin nods. 

“Yeah - I was just coming to find Steve, we’re all going to head to WT’s for a drink - uh, do you want to come?”

She’s probably just being polite. But, you shake your head vigorously.

“No, I’m good - sounds like it’s a band thing. I should get going anyway - I’ll catch the end of this set,” you say, gesturing towards the sound of the band on stage echoing from down the hall. You still haven’t made eye contact with Steve, not since Robin entered the room. So, you just give her a curt nod, and do everything in your power to head out the door without looking like you’re bolting.  You’re screwed.

author's note: thanks for your patience y'all! I'm going away to Ireland on a work trip for about 3 weeks starting tomorrow, so I'm hoping to do some writing while I'm there, but no promises! As always, reblogs and likes are appreciated!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington/you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington/fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #enemies to lovers #90s au #put on your records fic #steve harrington/reader angst #steve harrington/reader fluff #steve harrington/reader smut #steve harrington #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington imagine

[jadewritesficshere]

Shirts

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: you notice somethings changed about Steve's dresser (<1k words)

Contains: fluff, no gender description of reader, reader is called Honey

"Hey Steve?" You call, brow furrowed in confusion at the dresser. "Yeah?" Steve yells back from the bathroom. You peer into the dresser drawer," Where are your clothes?"

You can hear Steve turn off the light in the bathroom and the creak of the floorboard as he walks back into his bedroom. "Huh?" Steve appears at your side," Oh."

Steve's dresser drawers were usually stuffed to the brim. You would put the winter stuff away during summer and the summer stuff away during the winter. Unlike you, however, Steve kept his clothes out year round. The more often worn clothes ended up towards the top while the stuff rarely worn kept the bottom drawers full. He was stubborn too, arguing that it was a waste of time when he'd use the clothes again eventually ("Besides, Indiana weather changes so often one day it snows, the next it's so hot, and the next its a tornado. You got to be ready year round Honey").

But now? The drawer you opened had his shirts neatly folded on the left, but nothing on the right. You had peeked into the drawer beneath it and found the same with his pants.

"Made room for your stuff." Steve said it as if it wasn't a big deal. As if he didn't cause your heart to beat faster. As if the most stubborn and routine man you knew didn't just change something to include you in it.

Steve elbowed your side and gave you a grin," Got the winter stuff put away so you can't keep stealing my sweaters." You gasp in mock offense," I did not steal them! I borrowed." "Mmhmm and why is it i still don't have them?" Steve kisses your cheek, letting you know he isn't truly upset.

Steve leaves your side to head to the bed. You grab one of his shirts out of the drawer and pause again," Hey Steve?" "Yeah?" You flip through the shirts, "Why do you have the same exact shirt like...three times?"

"Well, sometimes you like shirts to fit you loosely so I got a shirt that does that. And sometimes you like shirts to be skin tight so I got one like that. And then the shirt that I already owned." Steve wanders back over, lifting each shirt as he mentions them. You can see the one he owned slightly faded compared to the new ones.

"You did that for me?" You can't help the sappy tone. Steve deflects," It's not that much. They had a sale on shirts. Besides, this way I don't have to fend off you and Robin for my own clothes." Steve won't meet your eyes.

Because Steve loves loud and has been called too much. Has been told it was "a lot". And he doesn't want to see that in your eyes. But if he looked up all he would see would be adoration. Love.

"Steve that's," you clear your throat," That's the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me." Steve's head snaps up to look at you. Whatever he's searching for in your eyes he must find, because you can see the tension fall from his shoulders.

"Well, I'll have to think of more things to top that." Steve grins at you. You smile back, heart beating fast. Your stomach alight with butterflies. You quickly change your shirt into one of his. Steve's eyes watching you the entire time sending shivers down your spine.

You walk over to where he is sitting on the bed, smiling down at him. "I love you." You declare as you thread a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. "I love you more." Steve counters, a hand landing on your hip.

"I love you most," You beam down at him. "Impossible." Steve wraps his arms around you and yanks you onto the bed with him. You shriek before laughing as you both land on the bed on your sides.

Steve pulls you closer, his nose lightly nudging yours. "I love you so much words can't even describe it." Steve murmurs, looking into your eyes," Just hope i can show it." "You do."

Steve's lips lightly brush yours. Soft. Sweet. His grip tightens on you as your kisses become more firm, more passionate. He nips at your bottom lip, causing you to gasp. He doesn't hesitate to deepen the kiss, licking into your mouth.

And as you kiss you can't help but feel overcome by the love you feel. And as your clothes end up haphazardly on the ground, you can't help but feel loved. And as Steve murmurs praises and holds you close, you know he feels the same.

#Surprise two things dropping at once #This isn't that long...but I need him #I also need to be held but thats besides the point #Can we talk about his hands like have yall seen his hands how big and- #steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you #Steve Harrington x y/n #Steve Harrington/you #Steve Harrington/reader #Jade Is Talking

[collectivecloseness]

(Nsfw) ok but do u have a hc at all on who’s better at going down on a lady, Steve Harrington or Eddie Munson?

Okay but I absolutely do for sure and I have thought this for the longest time.

(Cw: 18+)

Steve I think didn’t even know that was a thing at first, back in his king Steve days. He was all about missionary, or blowjobs, or other more common stuff he’d hear about, not that he was a selfish lover or anything. Sure he’d touch girls down there, of course he would, but the clit? Who knows where that is, he’d trust they’ll say/moan something if he finds it. Not to say he doesn’t learn though.

Absolutely not. As Steve becomes a better person, but also gains more experience, he hears about this for the first time and he wants the girls he’s with to feel happy and enjoy it and make sure they cum as well (not faking it which he’s trying to distinguish for sure now) but at least feeling safe and enjoying it. It is important to him that his partners are enjoying everything just as much as he is, even very early on before he’d learned more. As long as they’re happy, satisfied, and safe, Steve can end it happy as well.

But Steve’s knowledge comes in at a pretty normal time for a guy in Hawkins in the 80’s, and he’s definitely a lot a lot more willing to try it. Firstly asking a girl he trusts how to do it, then he found a book he could get without anyone recognising him, to read and keep hidden deep under his bed. As well as as time goes on, checking out some more tapes from the back adults only section of Family Video, so he can check what it’s ‘supposed’ to be like from other angles, not just when he’s looking up buried between thighs.

So at first, probably until he gets a long term partner who will work him though it, rather than a quick hookup, which they at least leave highly satisfied from and will tell other girls considering a date with the previous king of Hawkins High that it’s definitely worth a shot, at first Steve’s techniques are more just that; techniques. Things he’s read about and heard, like tongue here there diagonal short then fast, or the alphabet method, or following step by step something from his book that could be misconstrued as a ddr pattern or something.

Mostly Steve’s very focused on doing it right, and that is for the pleasure of his partners. But he does have to be taught by a girl he trusts where the clit exactly is at first, or more so, how to know if he’s touching it correctly. Shocked that it ranges from about 60-80% of sex without using the clitoris doesn’t end in orgasm for girls (although in Steve’s defence, that stat is much much lower with him, again, an unselfish lover even in the beginning, and also, he’s still Steve Harrington). He’s still a bit flustered trying to figure things out without being gentlemanly vague, but Steve really does care about your experience a lot.

And if you’re his partner, damn. Steve becomes such a good boy trying to ask you every single time he’s down there if what he’s doing is right, if you’re still okay, if he should change up, if he’s hurting you, if you finished, if you can handle round four - because holy shit girls can handle a lot more than even big boy Steve Harrington thought. He’s genuinely very considerate and sweet, caring a lot about your experience, and he will shut up and just get on with it and try and listen to your body, because he doesn’t want to stop if you’re feeling good; you go through some ideas with him, like thigh tapping signals.

But Steve will totter to you and ask you with his hand out if you two can go practice again, pretty please?

Steve may not have been the best student in high school, but he definitely wants to do some research in this field, and he is more than happy to perform some experiments. It’s called growing <3. He won’t ask you too much, and he won’t bother you with it, but he will come ask you in very sweet ways, like laying his head on your lap, or getting on his knees, or sucking into your neck just the same way he does your cunt. Or if you two are beginning to have sex, he’ll ask if you’d like him to do that first. And then he might want to do it afterwards as well. Especially if you would like to go for another round (Steve is not a one and done guy). Again, he’s learning all about the female body and experience so much :)

Steve is also... big. So it definitely does help, if he’s getting on his knees or tummy before you two make love <3. Although to be honest, not that you need it much anyway considering Steve gets you wet so easily. You remember Steve playing with your hair and whispering sweet nothings to you, before making out for a while, when you two decided to go to the bedroom. And when Steve undressed you, like a gentleman, and went to add more foreplay, and saw how soaked you were, he actually fucking laughed, like an adorable loving dork, and said out loud “Wow.” To be honest, it only helped you want him more.

Then again Steve eating you out after he’s cum in you slightly works against his breeding kink, although it’s not too much of an issue because Steve still throughly enjoys it. He also likes being able to be a little messy and dirty and free with you, and he also likes cleaning you up and helping you out once again, it works in so many ways to be honest. Not to mention the obvious, Steve likes going down on you, he wants to do it again, and also doing so after you two had made love was kinda hot. One time he had tears in his sweet brown eyes while licking out his cum, which took a minute to get to because Steve had fucked it deep in you, but when you promised he could fill you up again after he finished cleaning you up here, because he’d been so lovely today, you swear you saw his heart burst, just from the sparkles in his caramel eyes.

You’re definitely expanding Steve to lots of new intimate and interesting things to do with sex. Not that he was boring beforehand, but he didn’t want to risk going with something he wasn’t sure if he wasn’t good at, and he didn’t really get into another relationship until you, or really trust the other enough to be vulnerable and think within himself about his own explorations. He didn’t really think or get to physically explore about himself too much until you really. And you definitely helped him feel more open to do some introspection on himself, even at some surface level stuff to do with vulnerabilities and sex/love making things.

Steve does however figure this out very early days, probably with Nancy because he did love her, but it’s not something he really let himself indulge in or mind wonder about, until you. And that’s the fact he loves sucking on some boobies <3. Actually makes him feel incredibly calm and happy and like he can just shut down from being big protector Harrington, and just be Stevie in love and being taken care of, by taking care of.

Absolutely loves just settling his head down and softly holding you and mouthing around your boobs with the comfort of knowing that’s all he’s got to do right now, and it’s making you happy too. So to realise he can suck on something else of yours? That tastes of you even more, and makes you extremely happy too? Steve can bob those lovely cheeks around three different things and not accidentally overstimulate you, and really let his mind soften into loving and affectionate time with you, his love <333

Steve is a good guy and he is learning a lot. Happily doing so, he wants to be a good enough person for you, but also, hell yeah Steve Harrington is loving this too! Why don’t all guys like eating out their girlfriends?

Eddie is bouncing off all four walls if he doesn’t eat pussy soon.

Actually one of the first things he wants to do sexually. Yeah the first time he has sex he’s trying not to cream his pants but he’s also so desperate to please. But also to taste... to experience all that loveliness. The first time he does it it’s not only to please, but to try and prove he’s good, he likes them, to try and make himself good enough so they don’t leave, but he very quickly realises they all will. Well until you that is. Although Eddie Munson does go through a little bit of a slutty era before that - I mean, he was doomed by having that slutty, slutty waist.

After the first girl or two it’s mostly about pleasing his lovely lady acquaintances. But also a little bit of pride knowing their jock boy toys will never be as good as him, and those girls will know it, and never be able to feel the same with them after. He hopes it frees his good old friends, get them some real partners. And yeah, to give them one hell of a lifetime ride.

The all encompassing warmth and smell and taste and sounds and feel of you is something Eddie craves constantly. It’s like his safe place. That and it really helps with his oral fixation. And the man is obsessed. He will not be leaving you for hours. He’s biting all up your arm, big chomps over and over, beforehand, licking at you randomly, pretending he’s so sweet to kiss your cheek but actually poking it with the tip of his tongue. These aren’t even always precursors to Eddie’s meal of the day, he is just like that.

He wants to bury himself there and breathe you only. Why should Eddie care about o2 or whatever that bitches name is, they didn’t help him pass chemistry. The only chemistry Eddie cares about is between you and him... You push his face away in retaliation at that awful flirting. But Eddie is pouncing right back, laugh roaring, and biting down over your pelvis, which gets you to push him away again, this time with a laughing shriek. He’s just eager, he won’t bite where it hurts, but like, if you’re gonna be running your hands through his hair as you’re calling his name, he’s going to surprise lick your fingers occasionally. Or bite. Maybe suck on something a little. Your thighs and boobs are constantly getting apology smooches for Eddie being very bad and biting down on them.

He wants to live smothered in your love for him, the physical show all around him that you love him right now and are not leaving and he’s making you feel good in this moment, but also it’s you, encompassing him. Everything about you is safety and security and love for him. It’s another reason Eddie will absolutely bury his face in your boobies too </3

And when you finally let him indulge his oral fixation down there, three hours later - with breaks and water and checking in on you in between - his arms are wrapped around your thighs and he’s scooching forwards as you pull your legs, and therefore him, up the bed, with the biggest and ‘wettest’ pout on his face, begging you he just needs to be in there for a little more time. Please say you can go another round? He’s desperate. He’ll do anything baby, he just wants to worship you some more.

Eddie sometimes headbutts face first into your boobs and swears he will starve without tasting your pretty pussy. You’re more worried he’s going to fucking drown.

Eddie will happily get smothered to death though if it means drinking everything up. One of the only times you saw Eddie frown in bed (or anywhere you two were fucking) was when you were sitting on his face, and kept pulling back because you were worried you would hurt him. Eddie was stubbornly telling you that he could take it, you were fine, and you were wrong; and you swear he was going to use your body as an unwilling weapon to kill himself, because he was pulling you back down on his face so determinedly, you weren’t sure you could move from his grip pulling you down if you even wanted - you definitely did not want. Not when it was Eddie fucking Munson whose face you were riding.

Another excellent point in his favour, Eddie is wild. Very passionate. Extremely intuitive and very well versed/knowledgable. So he’s a god at eating out.

Changes up nearly every single time because he knows how to go with the flow and read you so well. It’s not just experience or anything Eddie is very well tuned to what you like and don’t, and he can pick up on you easily. Eating out just comes so so naturally to him it’s insane. And the fact he just goes ballistic down on you, absolutely feral for you, makes things even more sensational. He’ll eat you out in every which way possible. Staring up at you with those big fucking dark brown eyes. Those pretty thick lips glistening and swollen.

And when looking into his deep doe eyes is what makes you finally cum over his tongue, Eddie is chuckling breathily in that sweet voice into your cunt, and you’re cumming harder. The noises he makes too, little hums he doesn’t even know he’s sounding, he’s just enjoying himself that much, the sloppy eager sounds as he laps and sucks and kisses and eats at you, and then the fucking moans and swears and whines and groans and whimpers, and all the sweet suave words he tells you each time. When they’re sounded while his mouth is around you, the vibrations make you go crazy, something Eddie absolutely knows.

One time he winked to you after his laugh into your crotch made your eyes roll into your skull, and when he sweetly batted his eyelashes into your sensitive nipped thighs, just to make you feel even more, he really got his hair knotted into, and tugged further into your ‘embrace’.

Eddie will use any part of his face, ride his nose, or he’ll nuzzle it, tickling your thighs or belly with his eyelashes, scraping his teeth down them, using his lips to kiss and suck and mouth and vibrate on you, not to mention whatever ungodly power was given to Eddie’s tongue. Holy fuck Eddie’s tongue must have been blessed or something. His whole face is rubbing against you, he’s utilising it all, and Eddie wants his face covered in your cum, to the point it’s streaming down his neck and dripping onto his chest tattoo <3

And he’ll leave sessions having not had you take care of him once, all he wanted to do was go down on you. Get that taste, and make you feel so good. It makes him feel good too, even if not in that way, it just really does. Sometimes eating you out for a while is really all Eddie wants. Either for as long as he can get, or even a quick session before one of you has to go. He once joked that even with his life, it was the only addiction he has. Although you swear you watch him go through withdrawal. You’d say kinda regularly actually, but you two are going at it enough it doesn’t get to be too much of a problem <3.

It surprised you a little when you first dated him, that sometimes Eddie would ask you if you two could do that, and then that’s all that’d happen, unless you initiated further. When Eddie said that that shouldn’t be surprising, goddamn he did make you fall for him even more. You tell him he has a blessed tongue in many ways, although Eddie is very aware of that.

Sometimes sure he’ll rub one or multiple out under you, or buck against his mattress as he does so. One time even using your leg, because you were stood at the bathroom sink and he just had to have a taste of you before he could sleep. Trust me, eating you out is well more than enough to get Eddie Munson off. Sometimes all Eddie is focused on is pussy and he’s absolutely enjoying himself extremely, being touched himself or not. After all, he is getting to do one of his favourite all time things with you.

#Steve Harrington/reader #Eddie Munson/reader #citrussy #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington hears about the Konami code and goes is the cllit the b button or a? #so in conclusion eddie is not only a natural but a god of this but Steve is trying his best and genuinely learning each and each time which #just means you’ve gotta practice even more :)) and he is very on target abt making sure you’re well looked after <33 #but I could actually go on forever with thoughts abt these two and this I will never stop having thoughts on this #Steve Harrington thoughts #Steve Harrington drabble #Eddie Munson drabble #Eddie Munson thoughts #Steve Harrington x reader #Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson hcs #Steve Harrington hcs #stranger things #anon #ask

[augustslippedavvay]

i dig your cinema (steve harrington)

masterlist ❈

summary: your boyfriend suggests you catch the 10:15pm showing of 'the lost boys' and parks at the back of the drive-in theater. you put the pieces together from there. author's note: i uhhhhhhhh got a little carried away with this lmao. also i don’t know if there’s a drive-in in hawkins but there is now i suppose i love reading fics where steve is the softest, sweetest boyfriend alive and lets his girlfriend get away with pretty much anything except for in the (metaphorical) bedroom. so. here is that. lmao. this is my first time writing him but it was so fun, he has such a specific attitude about him that is so satisfying lolllllll also, headcanon that despite his himbo reputation, steve loves all things horror and reads horror books and watches horror movies all the time. he consumes stephen king's books at an alarming rate

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader word count: 5k warnings: pwp, alternate universe: canon divergence, no spoilers, semi-public sex, car sex

cross-posted to ao3 <3

ALSOOOOOO everyone in this fic is 18+ - minors pretty pls dni!!!!!

The first thing you see when you unlock the front door to your apartment is the tanned expanse of your boyfriend’s bare back, a tea towel thrown over his shoulder. 

Steve’s standing over the stove, cooking what you can only assume by the smell is some sort of meat. His jeans sit so low on his hips that you groan inwardly - it’s been a long day, and all you want right now is to sink your teeth into his tanned skin.

He hasn’t noticed you come in - you can hear his favorite mixtape blaring through his headphones from where you stand, him humming along to “I Want You To Want Me” by Cheap Trick  - and you watch him as you shut the door behind you, toeing off your sneakers. 

You walk up and shove a hand in the back pocket of Steve’s jeans, squeezing once, twice, then reach up to lift his headphones off of one of his ears. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Hey, hot stuff,” you murmur, leaning up to kiss his cheek. Steve looks over his shoulder at you and chases your lips, planting a few chaste kisses on your mouth. He pulls his headphones fully off to sit around his neck, easing the volume down. 

“Hey, baby. You’re home early.”

“Yeah, they cut me loose at six today,” you say, rubbing your hands up and down his arms. “Whatcha cookin’?”

“Tacos. You hungry?”

“Mmm, yes,” you say, backing off to set your purse on the kitchen table and put your hair up in a ponytail. “Anything I can do to help?”

Steve turns to look at you, the pan in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other, stirring as he says, “I hadn’t had a chance to get any of the fixings out?”

“Ay, ay, captain,” you say, crossing the kitchen and opening the fridge.

“Thanks, baby.”

You fall into a comfortable silence as you pull everything from the refrigerator, setting it onto the counter on the other side of Steve and pulling two plates from the cabinet above you. He finishes up sauteeing the beef and turns off the burner, and you grab a hot pad from a drawer. He smiles at you and takes it from your hand, setting it down with the pan on top of it.

The two of you quietly build your tacos - his soft shell, yours hard - and occasionally bump hips, exchanging sly smiles. Your face flushes. Three years with Steve Harrington and he still gets your heart racing with just a look. 

You take your usual seat at your table, and Steve sits next to you, so close that your knees are almost touching. You eat in silence, only whispering, “These are good,” to him with a small smile, and he knocks his knee against yours in thanks.

“Hey, you wanna go see a movie tonight?” Steve sets his taco down and sucks the pad of his thumb into his mouth, pulling it back out with a pop while you watch. “They got a 10:15 showing of The Lost Boys at the drive-in, I checked the paper.”

“Ooh, that sounds good. And scary.”

“Yeah, I figured we could pop some popcorn at home, take some blankets and snuggle up in the front seat of the car. I’ll keep you safe, cross my heart.”

You grin at him. “My hero. Count me in.”

The two of you finish up dinner and clean up after yourselves. You shoo Steve away when he tries to help you with the dishes. 

“You cooked. Back off,” you say playfully, aiming a fork in his direction.

He holds his hands up in defense, then kisses the top of your head before hurrying off into your room. You hear the shower turn on while you’re tidying, and you turn and finish washing your plates, plus the pan and spoon Steve used to cook with, and put away everything else you used as fast as you can.

When you get back to your room, Steve is lying diagonally on top of the covers in only his briefs, a box fan pointed in his direction, tousling his wet hair, and you sigh at the sight of him. He looks up at you from behind the book he’s reading and raises his eyebrows.

“You okay over there?”

“You have, like, two seconds before I collapse on the ground in exhaustion, so make room for me right now, Harrington.”

“Oh, my God, you’re so dramatic. Get over here.”

Steve is grinning at you as he says it, though, and he watches you peel your work clothes off, down to your bra and a pair of cotton underwear. You ease yourself onto the bed, and he holds one arm out so you can tuck yourself into his side, your head on his chest, and he’s so warm and comfortable underneath you that you close your eyes and feel yourself relaxing.

“Are you gonna fall asleep?”

“No,” you whisper, but it’s not long until you’re snoring softly. Steve smiles and runs his fingers through your hair. He lets you sleep, only pulling his hand away every few minutes to turn pages on Stephen King’s Pet Sematary. 

About 20 minutes before you have to leave, Steve sets the book down and gently peels you off of him - to only minimal protesting on your part, amended when he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head - and hops out of bed, pulling his jeans back on. Soon after, you hear popping from the kitchen. You smile to yourself and stretch, sitting up on the edge of the bed. You change into denim shorts and a sweater, grabbing one of Steve’s crewnecks for him, too, since he always forgets a jacket.

You walk out into the kitchen with Steve’s sweater in one hand and your slip-ons in the other, dropping them on the floor and pulling them onto your feet.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Steve teases, looking up from where he’s watching the popcorn on the stove. “Did I wake you?”

You smile and shrug. “I needed to get up. Almost ready?”

“Almost ready,” Steve confirms, grabbing a Ziploc bag to put the popcorn in. “Salt? Butter?”

“Both, please. In excess.”

Steve obliges and when he’s finished, he seals the Ziploc bag and trades you the popcorn for his sweater. You take one last opportunity to run your hands over the bare skin of his back and torso, watch him shiver. He kisses you, then backs off to throw his own beat-up sneakers on along with the crewneck and then ushers you out the door, leaning back in quickly to flip the kitchen light off.

When he puts the car into reverse, you lean over and thread your hand through his hair, holding the back of his head as he turns to look over his shoulder.

“You’re touchy today,” Steve murmurs, and you shrug.

“You’re very touchable. What can I say.”

He smiles at you and kisses the palm of your hand before throwing the car back into drive and peeling out onto the street, which he does because he knows it’ll make you laugh, and he watches as you toss your head back and giggle. 

You roll down the passenger side window and stick your hand out, feel the mild nighttime air between your fingers, then lean over and slip Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the U.S.A. into the tape player and skip to your favorite song.

Steve drives quietly the whole way to the theater, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of ‘Dancing in the Dark,’ which you’re singing under your breath. This kind of companionable silence is one of the many reasons you love getting to spend so much of your time with Steve. When you talk, you can talk for hours without running out of things to say - but when one of you goes quiet, the other will follow suit, and it never feels strange, or awkward. It’s comfortable. 

When Steve pulls the car into the entrance to the drive-in, he rolls his window down and smiles at the ticket seller, who blushes under his gaze. You smirk - you know that feeling all too well.

“Two for The Lost Boys, please,” Steve says, holding up two fingers, and hands her a ten dollar bill when she tells him the price. He gets a few bills back and some change, and he hands it to you, leaning forward so that you can pull his wallet from the back pocket of his pants to shove the money back inside.

“She didn’t even ID us,” Steve murmurs, and you start to laugh, handing him his wallet. He gives you a scrutinizing look. “What’s so funny?”

“Steve, she was too lost in your eyes to care whether we were underage.”

“Shut up, she was not.”

“She so was,” you say, and Steve groans. “You said four words to her and the poor girl was down for the count.”

Steve waves you off and pulls the car toward the back of the field, and you grin at him as he parks. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head at you.

“Were you planning on gettin’ some tonight, Harrington?”

“Don’t you give me shit for that. It’s the best spot to be parked, and you know it.”

You just keep smiling, your eyes roaming over his face. “Hey, if you were - who says I wasn’t, too?”

Steve raises his eyebrows at you and his lips part, like he’s about to say something, but you lean over to press a quick kiss to his open mouth and then pull the popcorn from your purse and open it, start snacking. Steve snorts and shakes his head again, reaching over to tune the car radio to the theater’s station for the movie.

“You are something else tonight, baby, you know that?”

You grin over at him and rest your elbow on the back of the seat, propping your head on your palm.

“Look at us, Harrington. We’re on a date. A cute little date, like we’re sixteen again.”

“I know,” Steve says, looking over at you and smiling. He grabs your hand and threads his fingers through yours, pressing kiss after kiss to the center of your palm. You grin and watch him, watch as his gaze comes up to meet yours, let him run his lips up your hand to your wrist, before you roll your eyes, take his face between your hands, and kiss him fiercely.

Steve sighs into your mouth and kisses you back for a beat, but pulls away when you start to run your tongue along the seam of his lips. “And you were givin’ me shit for parking us at the back of the field, you little minx! The previews haven’t even started yet!”

“Alright, alright,” you say, smiling and inching closer to him. You start to run your hand up his chest. “You caught me, Steve. I’ve been plotting to jump your bones since the moment I walked into our apartment after work today.”

“What did you in, baby?” Steve asks with a smirk. “Was it the jeans?”

You throw your head back and groan. Steve reaches over and squeezes your knee.

“Knew it.”

“They were so low on your hips, Steve - how am I supposed to resist that!”

“That’s the thing, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles on the outside of your thigh. “You’re not supposed to.”

You sit there watching him for a moment, the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips, but the projector for your movie powers on just as you’re working up to make a move, illuminating the car completely, and it fully kills the mood. Steve huffs a sigh and pulls his hand away, and you turn to face the screen, which displays a message on a white screen welcoming you all, and informing you that your movie will start shortly. 

“Baby,” Steve whispers, and you ignore him, rooting through your purse for your chapstick. Steve eyes your profile, and out of the corner of your eye, his lips curl just slightly, illuminated by the light of the drive-in screen. “Come over here.”

Steve laughs when your reserve falls and you all but scramble across the bench of his car. He puts his hand around your waist and helps you scoot closer, bringing his other hand up to cup your face. You’re pressed against him, your hip turned so that your left leg is up over Steve’s right. You glance at his eyes, then down at his mouth and back up.

Grinning, Steve tucks one finger under your chin and angles your face up towards him. “Your mood is rubbing off on me.”

“Yeah?” You bite your lip. Steve nods, then leans in to kiss you once, twice. He brushes your hair back from your face and holds you in his hands.

“We might have to do something about it,” he murmurs, his eyes roving your reddening face. “Does that sound alright to you?”

You nod eagerly, then rearrange yourself so you can easily slide into Steve’s lap. He brings both of his hands down to squeeze your hips, running them down your thighs and around to your backside. You lean your head into his neck and moan when he presses you down into him and you feel the drag of his hardening cock against the seam of your shorts.

You sit up to press your nose against his, waiting for him to lean forward and kiss you again, when the radio starts up, rolling on one of the previews set to play before the movie itself, and you both jump slightly, laughing into the space between one another’s mouths. Steve wraps his arms around your middle completely and pulls you flush against him, parting his lips when you press yours back to his so you can slip your tongue into his mouth. 

One of Steve’s hands begins to wander, trailing up your back, then down and under your shirt to brush against the space right beneath your naval, making you shiver. He rubs up and down your bare thighs, squeezing gently, before settling against the zipper of your jean shorts. You pull away and watch as he undoes the button and zipper, then let out a loud groan when he slides his hand down into the front of them, pressing up against your clothed clit.

“You gotta be quiet, baby,” Steve murmurs, bringing the hand not currently between your legs up to push your hair back behind your ear. “Wouldn’t wanna get caught, would we?”

You shake your head and he smiles. “Good girl.”

Steve leans forward to press his lips to yours and kisses you again, but so chastely you could cry. You want him to kiss you, to open his mouth and devour you, and he smiles against you when he hears you whine, pulling back to look at you. He cups your face.

“Steve, I want –”

“I know what you want, but you’re gonna have to be patient, okay?”

You nod. He isn’t normally in the mood to tell you what to do - you’re usually the one bossing him around - but you love these rare moods of his. It’s so unbelievably hot. 

Steve captures your lips with his again and the hand pressed against your cheek slides around to push into your hair at the base of your skull. He rolls his hips up into yours, which puts more pressure on the hand tracing circles around your clit, and when you whine, he grips your hair harder.

“That feel good, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but he dips his hand into your underwear, so nothing comes out, and your eyes roll back into your head when he slips it down even further to slide between the seam of you.

“So fucking wet,” he mutters, and presses a kiss to your chin. “All for me, huh?”

“For you, Steve,” you sigh. “Yes, yes, all for you.”

His middle finger traces along you for a few moments longer, and he watches you close your eyes and hum, your head lolling to one side, before he presses it up, up, and sinks into you to the second knuckle.

“Oh, fuck, Steve,” you whine, shifting a little to try and take more of him, and he laughs at you, wrapping his other hand around your hip to still you.

“You really have been dreaming about this all day, huh?”

“God, yes, all day.”

Steve purses his lips. “Yeah?”

“At work,” you say, finally catching your breath, and wince when he curves his finger inside of you just slightly, “all I could think about was coming home to you, pressing you against the counter, and dropping to my knees for you. I don’t know what it was. I just couldn’t get you off my mind. And then I got home, and you were making me dinner, and you were wearing those fucking jeans so low on your hips. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I wanted to see the rest of your tan skin. I have been just aching for you, Steve, all day long.”

Your words send his heart down into his stomach, and Steve groans at the thought of his cock stuffed down your throat, but that was for another time. Maybe when you get home. The air between you sits charged while you silently try to work yourself down on his finger even further. Steve smiles softly at you, at the way your eyes flutter closed when he eases his finger fully inside of you.

“You’re so good to me, baby, you know that? What do you want? What can I give you?”

“More,” you groan, and Steve leans forward to press his lips against the curve of your throat. You bring one hand up and thread it through his hair, mussing it before gripping tightly. “More, Steve, please.”

“More of what?”

“You,” you sigh, and Steve laughs shakily.

“Alright, baby,” he breathes against the skin of your neck. “You can have more.”

Steve brings his mouth back up and gives you a searing, deep kiss, one that almost distracts you from the fact that he’s pulling his finger out of you and adding another alongside it. You moan at the feeling, and Steve takes this moment to slip his tongue into your open, waiting mouth. He starts to move his fingers in and out of you, and you vaguely register that the previews have finished and the movie has begun, but you honestly couldn’t care less. The only thing on your mind is the way the palm of his hand is pressed right up against your clit, and you grind down into him, panting as you work yourself closer to what you hope will only be your first orgasm of the night.

“Look at you,” Steve remarks, chuckling. “I don’t even need to do any of the dirty work, do I, sweetheart? Are you gonna make yourself come? Hm?”

You nod and your hips stutter when he starts to curl his fingers in towards himself, pressing on that spot inside of you that makes you see red. 

“Good thing the windows are fogged up, huh - we wouldn’t want anyone to be able to peek in here and see you looking like this, hm? You’re a mess, aren’t you, baby? Fucking yourself on my fingers like that.”

You lift your hips up, feel his fingers slip out of you almost to their tips, before you sink back down onto them, repeating this motion until you feel the knot in the pit of your stomach start to tighten. Steve winds his fingers into your hair again and pulls until you’re looking him in the eye. He groans and stretches his fingers out, pressing you open, then curls them again, working that spot until you’re panting and writhing in his lap. When your eyes flutter closed, he tugs your hair, forcing you to open your eyes again.

“I want you to come,” Steve whispers, glancing down and watching you drag your hips along his hand, then back up to look you straight in the eye. “I want you to come, sweetheart, because I want to fuck you so bad.”

You cry, “Fuck, Steve,” and your thighs start to shake when he curls his fingers again, this time stroking in quick succession until you come, hard, so hard you fall forward onto his chest. You tuck your face into his neck, and you clench around his fingers while he runs his hand through your hair. 

“That’s it, fuck, baby, come for me.”

Your head rolls back, and Steve claps one hand over your mouth when you start to get a little too loud. His lips press against your ear, whispering, “Shhh, it’s okay, pretty girl, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” until you come down from your high. You whine softly, so he pulls his hand from your mouth and presses it gently to the side of your face.

Steve removes his fingers from inside of you and you cry out, sit up a bit to look down and watch him, your gaze dragging up to his face as he slips both fingers he was using to fuck you into his mouth and moans around them. Fuuuuuuuck. His lips are so swollen from kissing you, and you can only begin to imagine what you must look like to him. He smiles, pulls his fingers out of his mouth with an obscene pop, and slides his hands under your shorts, beginning to push them down and off your hips.

“Steve, what are you doing,” you laugh, leaning up further onto your knees so he can work your shorts down your thighs. He cups your ass and nudges you forward, so that your top half is practically in the backseat. “Steve!”

“You’re fine,” Steve mutters, smacking your backside playfully. You gasp and he takes your shorts the rest of the way off, leaving you in only your panties, and you sit back in his lap. You can feel how hard he is for you inside of his jeans. 

“You could have asked,” you protest, holding his face in one of your hands, your thumb pressed into his cheek.

“It was faster that way,” Steve says, lips pursed, smirking as he grabs your hand and guides it down to the button of his jeans. You scoff, then pop it, dragging his zipper down so slowly you hear his breath catch in his chest. You push your hands up under his sweater, rake your nails up and down his torso. Steve lifts his arms so you can rid him of his top, and you immediately lean forward to press soft kisses to his chest, pressing your hands into his warm skin. He huffs a sigh through his nose, so you pull back to look at him.

“Who’s impatient now?”

You laugh when he rolls his eyes at you. The two of you sit quietly for a moment and you eye him appreciatively as the light from the screen casts him in a soft blue haze. You want so badly to reach out and run your fingers over the freckles that cover the apples of his cheeks.

“You look so pretty right now, baby.”

“You should see yourself,” Steve breathes, hands gripping your waist, smiling up at you. You snort. 

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Harrington,” you whisper, and he smugly responds, “I know,” but cuts himself off when you reach into his jeans to pull his thick cock from his underwear. He groans at the feeling of your hand tight around him, whispering, “Oh, fuck,” and bucking his hips up when you flick your thumb over the tip of him. You work him for a few moments, leaning down to spit, using your hand to spread it over him. Steve starts to pant and a deep red flush rises on his cheeks, spreading down his neck and onto his collarbones.

Lifting your hips, you help Steve work his pants and his briefs down his thighs until he’s bare before you and able to spread his legs a little. As you hold him in place, your panties pushed to the side, he guides you down. You feel him press against the seam of your cunt.

“God, fuck,” Steve mutters, hips stuttering, the head of his cock pressing further into you. “You’re so wet. So soft.”

You sit down further and groan at the way he slides right into you with no resistance. Once you’re fully seated, you feel so, so full. He’s so big, and it always takes you a few moments to get used to the stretch. Steve watches you catch your breath, his own hitching when you clench around him.

“I feel you,” you pant. “Steve, I feel you everywhere.”

Steve groans and both of his hands go straight to your hips, squeezing gently. You lean back and rest your hands on the tops of his knees, your back pressing against the steering wheel, and ease your hips up an inch, two, before settling back down, gasping when your clit rubs against his pelvis. He brings one hand around and under the front of your shirt.

“I feel me, too, baby,” Steve pants, pressing down on your stomach, and you whine when he slides his hand down to work at your clit, his thumb brushing over it with just enough pressure to make a difference, making you cry out. “You’re takin’ me so well, sweetheart, God, you feel so good around my cock.”

You want to cry at his words - they send a knot of pure pleasure straight into the center of you. Using all of the strength you have left in your thighs, you rock your hips over and over, pushing yourself up so that only the tip of Steve’s cock is still inside of you, waiting there until he grabs your hips and hitches you down himself. He keeps his hold on you, guiding you up and down, helping you fuck yourself on his cock. After a few more moments, you feel him twitch inside of you, his grip on your hips getting tighter and tighter.

You lean forward to press your mouth against his shoulder. “Are you gonna come, Stevie?”

He laughs breathily at the nickname and nods, turning to kiss the side of your head. “Yeah, you got me pretty close.”

“You gonna come inside me?”

“Fuck, baby, if you want me to,” he pants, and you feel him twitch inside of you again.

“Want you to,” you whisper, easing yourself up out of his grip and then down fully onto his cock, shifting your hips so that your clit drags against the flat of his pelvis again. You bite your lip. “Want you to fill me up, Steve. Want to feel you slipping out of me later tonight.”

Steve nods, groans, “Jesus fuck,” and braces one elbow against the driver’s side door, his other arm coming around to hold you in place. He starts to fuck up into you, hard, short strokes that drive the air right from your lungs, and as his hips snap against yours, you fall forward against him. The best you can do in this moment is to try to hold yourself up, your hands braced on his chest, while he fucks you so hard you can’t see straight. You curse and bring one hand down to rub your clit, and Steve groans. 

“Are you gonna come again, baby?”

“Not until you do,” you pant, forehead pressed against the hollow of Steve’s throat. “Not without you.”

“Fuck,” Steve says and throws his head back. He pushes himself a little harder, fucks you a little faster. You keep working your clit until you feel your orgasm overtaking you, and you angle your head up to bite at Steve’s throat, clenching around him one last time before you feel him stiffen underneath you. You rock up and down, easing him through his orgasm, pressing soft kisses along his throat and panting open-mouthed against his skin when you start to come, too. Steve snakes his hand down underneath yours and takes over on your clit, prolonging your orgasm, feels you tighten around him until you’re practically begging him to stop touching you.

“Oh, god,” he groans, giving one last buck of his hips.

Steve stills, panting, softening inside of you, and when he pulls out of you, you cry out, overly sensitive. He pulls your panties back over to cover your cunt, then shakes his head and places his hands on both sides of yours, angling your face up so he can kiss you softly. He brushes your hair out of your face and kisses your forehead. “You good, baby?”

You hum and nod, bracing yourself against his chest. Steve leans over and grabs your shorts, helping you off of his lap and handing them to you. He pulls his pants back up, grabs his sweater, and glances back out the windshield at the screen.

“We’re gonna have to come see this movie again,” Steve says absentmindedly, his hair sticking straight up, a result of your hands tugging on it. You reach over to press it down and he bats your hand away playfully, looking over at you. “I don’t think I’m really following what’s happening.”

“I wonder why,” you snort, pulling your shorts back up your legs and buttoning them. You turn back to Steve in the driver’s seat to find him staring at you, a tender look in his eyes. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he says, pulling the sweater back over his head. “I just love you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. “I love you, too, you softie.”

“Now,” Steve says, clearing his throat and clenching his hands around the steering wheel. “You wanna finish this movie, or should we…?”

“...Go home so I can jump your bones again?” 

“Yeah, that.”

“I think,” you say, leaning over to kiss him on the jaw, “that you should get us the hell out of here before I start taking my clothes back off.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve grins, turning to look out the rear window and throwing his car into reverse.

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[chaseadrian]

if you can only pretend

day 6. phone sex // [kinktober masterlist] Hard to say exactly how much you miss Steve while he's away on business. Still, you'll find a way to show him.

pairing. steve harrington/f!reader wc. 1k tags. 18+ ONLY, established relationship, phone sex, dirty talk, a bit o fluff, masturbation

You started on your stomach, the phone pulled from its stand, wire uncoiled as you twirled it around your finger. It was cliche and cheesy, but then, so was the way Steve spoke to you on the other end. 

“You miss me, beautiful?” He asks, stranded at some conference in Indianapolis for the video store. Who knew video stores had conferences? Or that Steve was good enough at his job to be invited? 

“What do you think?” You reply, flipping over to stare at the ceiling, knees pulled up and legs crossed one over the other. Your pajama shirt slides down your thighs, and the quiet hum of consideration from Steve has goosebumps rising on the skin. 

“Well, I don’t know.” You can sense him skirting around a question, can see the kick of his lip as he holds back a smile, his breath a little short. 

“Mm, you alone in that hotel room?” Grazing your nails over the top of your thighs, you close your eyes and pretend they’re Steve’s. 

“Got it all to myself, Robin complained about my snoring, smiled at the general manager, and he got her the hookup. I don’t think she knew what she was doing, but, never know with her.” He loses the plot for a moment before reorienting, “Point is, yes, the room is all mine.” 

“Not the only thing that’s all yours.” You chuckle as a punctuation to the statement, an incredulous, sarcastic laugh that goes over Steve’s head and has him falling over his heels. 

“That right?” He’s self satisfied, and you hum an affirmative before he continues, “So how much was it that you missed me?” 

You slip your fingers under the hem of your underwear, drawing your moan into your throat and instead letting out a deep, shaking sigh, “I don’t have the words, but I can still articulate it, if you want.” 

There’s the quiet clatter of a belt buckle on the other end before Steve says, “Jesus Christ, yes.” 

You laugh again, slipping your middle finger between your lips, slicking it up to circle around your clit. You moan into the receiver, playing it up just a little, and he starts spilling soliloquies without you even asking. 

“Fuck, shit,” He whispers, “Wish I was there. Wish it was your mouth around me instead, fuck,” Laughs intercede the monologue, “Hard to go back to my hand when you wrap around me so nice. N—nothing compares, fuck, I swear on God and Jesus and Magnum PI himself that I will never go to another one of these damn conferences.” 

Smiling to yourself, you sit in the mental picture of Steve at the desk of his hotel, fisting his erection, his jeans just pulled past his ass. He’s struggling to talk, white knuckles stroking down a reddening shaft, precum dribbling over his skin as he laments his love and frustration. 

“Nothing that takes me away from you and that pretty mouth. I just, shit, just wanna bury my tongue between your legs, make you squirm like you’re doin’ right now.” 

You arch your back as you circle your clit, lit up with desperation and want for Steve, for the little whimpers and choked moans he breathes into your mouth, for the rough pad of his fingertip on your wet cunt. You drive down deeper into the bed, whispering, “Shit, Steve, please, keep going. Keep going.” 

“Keep going?” His voice is steadier now, his desperation staved off by the pride he feels satisfying you, “Keep telling you how much I miss that body? Miss how wet you are when I slip into you, how tight you wrap around me, miss you pushing yourself against me, miss how your tits feel against my chest, shit, fuck, I’m—” 

He loses his composure in a matter of seconds, and it’s the heaving sigh at the outset of his orgasm that sends you careening into yours. That mental picture of his lips parting, pretty and pink and exhaling moans and guttural noises that he can’t hold back. The stilling of his hand on his length, spurts of cum spattered on his jeans and the desk and, if he’s really missing you, the wall. 

You can just hear the quiet, “Ohh, yeah, just like that.” as you’re shaking through your orgasm, fingers frantic over your clit as you dredge out every last bit of pleasure you can before the slightest touch becomes overwhelming. 

Catching your breath, you laugh a little in embarrassment. Crawling into Steve’s arms is typically an easy way to escape the awareness that comes after sex, logic and conscience seeping back into the spaces of your body that were taken over by love and desperation. Now though, all you have is the intangible comfort of his voice over the line, laughing right there with you. 

“I am just the luckiest guy in the world, huh?” He says, a dreamy sigh to follow. 

“Only person luckier than you is me.” You smile, shifting under the covers, the receiver under your head. If you close your eyes you can almost pretend Steve’s right there with you. 

“Fat chance.” There’s the clink of his belt as he pulls his jeans back on, scoffing at the notion. 

“Bite me.” 

He laughs, “I can do that. Soon as I get back, promise.” 

The lull of his voice pushes you closer and closer to sleep, and you mutter out an, “I’ll hold you to it.” 

“Hey, you falling asleep on me?” 

You mumble a negative, and Steve huffs a laugh, “Yeah, alright. Go to sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow night. I love you.” 

Your heart kicks in your chest as it always does when he says that, and you push off sleep enough to firmly say, “I love you.” 

There’s a smile in the sigh he lets out, and a quiet, “Goodnight, my beautiful girl. I’ll be here.”

You fall asleep with the receiver pressed against your cheek, Steve’s soft breathing on the other end. 

It’s almost like he’s there. 

Almost.

#steve harrington/reader #steve harrington/you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #my writing #mine #kinktober

[quin-ns]

Crushes, Chaos, and Confessions (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Word count: 2.2K

Summary: dustin knows how steve feels about you and he can’t stop himself from spilling his best friend’s biggest secret to you

Tags: ST4 spoilers!!, steve being all sweet, dustin, max, and lucas being chaotic/funny, dustin has a big mouth, humor, fluff, love confessions, kissing, mutually requited love

A/N: my second steve fic! I loved writing him so much the first time I had to do it again <3

cross-posted to ao3 • st masterlist • writing masterlist

Sitting in the basement of the Wheeler house felt odd. Probably because neither of the Wheeler siblings you knew were there. Still, you had a lot of company.

Max was across the room at a desk, her headphones on as she held a pen in hand. Lucas, Steve, and Dustin—in that order—were sitting on the couch against the wall opposite to Max. And you? You couldn’t sit down. You should’ve gone with Nancy and Robin, but Steve had complained about always having to be the babysitter and convinced you that three was a crowd and to stick with him instead.

It was kind of embarrassing, how easy he could sway you. Steve had quickly become one of your best friends after he began working with you and Robin at Scoops Ahoy. That is, before the mall burned down. However, everything that happened was a very quick and strong bonding experience. Then the three of you migrated together to the video store and spent even more time together. Especially you and Steve. After your shifts or on your days off you were almost always hanging out together.

“Can you sit down?” Dustin’s voice broke through the silence and took you out of your head. “You’re making me dizzy.”

“Leave her alone, dude,” Steve muttered in your defense. “She’s scared.”

“I’m not scared,” you were quick to correct, finally stilling in order to face them. “I’m just… anxious.” It was true, you couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if Nancy and Robin came back with no answers and Max—who you’d become fond of—was left in danger.

Steve stood from the couch and made his way over to you. He put an arm over your shoulder and pulled you against him at an angle. You allowed yourself to curl into him as he provided you with a comforting embrace.

“When’s the last time you slept?” Steve asked as his other arm came around you, hugging you. His voice was soft but full of concern.

“I don’t remember,” you admitted. After everything that happened it was hard to calm down enough to even close your eyes for more than a few seconds. You felt like you couldn’t sleep until the mystery of Vecna was solved and he was stopped.

If your head wasn’t against Steve’s chest, you would’ve seen Lucas staring at you and Steve while Dustin rolled his eyes. Steve didn’t see at first either, but he sensed the sass radiating off of his young friend. He shot Dustin a glare that translated to ‘keep your mouth shut!’

See, Dustin knew about Steve’s feelings for you. Well, practically everyone who saw the way he interacted with you did, but Dustin was the only one he actually told. He would’ve told Robin but she had already figured it out and he made her swear to forget it. There was only one person who didn’t know how Steve felt about you; you.

Somehow, you were oblivious to it. Even Steve at times was surprised you hadn’t called him out on it. Between the longing stares and constant affection, the way his mood always lit up when you were around and how often he wanted to hang out, he figured he would’ve been caught by now. But you never seemed to notice how he was so much gentler and much more openly caring with you than anyone else.

“Just try to take it easy, okay? Please?” Steve asked softly. “You know I worry about you.”

You lifted your head and met his eyes with a soft smile. “Sometimes I think you worry about me too much,” you teased him lightly.

“Yeah, well, I can’t help it,” he replied with sincerity. A light smile tugged at his lips as he stared down at you. He couldn’t hide the absolute adoration in his eyes as he held your gaze, and it took everything he had to not lean down and kiss you.

The moment was ruined when Dustin decided he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “If you’re gonna kiss can you not do it in front of us please?” he asked sarcastically. Steve shot him a death glare and you blushed a little bit and stepped back from Steve.

“What the hell, man?” Steve couldn’t contain his annoyance at the younger teen. Looking at Steve you could see he was blushing a tad. You figured it was because Dustin had embarrassed him. It was one thing when you and Steve teased each other about your relationship but hearing it from someone else made it awkward.

You rolled your eyes and brushed off the comment. You thought there was no way it was anything more than a joke so you didn’t let it bother you. “I’m gonna go get a glass of water,” you announced, changing the subject.

“No, you stay here,” Steve decided, already walking to the stairs. “Sit down and relax for a sec. I’ll get it for you.” He gestured to the spot he’d been sitting that was now empty.

“Um, thanks!” You called after him as he ascended to the main house. You turned your attention to Lucas and Dustin, furrowing your brows at the weird expressions on their faces.

You didn’t move to the seat, unable to bring yourself to sit down. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked the boys.

“I wasn’t joking, you know. Before. He really does wanna kiss you.” Dustin told you matter of factly.

“What?” you questioned, his comment coming seemingly out of nowhere. You had no idea how long he’d been keeping Steve’s secret and Dustin just couldn’t not say anything now.

“He likes you. It’s, like, disgustingly obvious. I don’t know how you don’t notice,” he stated with plenty of sass in his voice. It was the tone he always used when he knew he was right—which was more often than any one of you wanted to admit.

“Yeah, he’s definitely into you,” Max chimed in, apparently having listened in to the whole interaction. You turned your head to her and saw no hint of sarcasm. “You seem like you like him too,” she added.

You opened your mouth to say something, but Dustin cut you off with more revealing information. “He’s too scared to tell you. He doesn’t want to ruin the friendship, whatever that means.”

“If you like him you should tell him,” Max intervened yet again. “He’d actually be a good boyfriend. He’s like, super romantic with you already. You just don’t notice.” The way she said it had an underlying argumentative tone.

That, of course, sparked Lucas to jump in. “And what? I wasn’t a good boyfriend?”

“You cared more about being popular so what do you think?” Max snarked back with her focus on Lucas.

You didn’t even have the focus to register what they had revealed to you before because the conversation devolved into children (okay, fine, teens) bicker amongst themselves.

“I do care about you!” Lucas defended, yelling slightly in exasperation.

“You did miss Hellfire Club,” Dustin muttered under his breath.

“And you missed my game!” Lucas then turned back to Max. “I do care about you, okay? Plus, Steve was popular in high school and now you’re his number one fan or whatever so how is that different?”

Max scoffed. “What does that have to do with anything?” she questioned. “Besides, I’m not his number one fan- Y/N is!”

“Guys—” you said, trying to get a word in.

“All I said was that they’d make a good couple because he obviously cares about her a lot.”

“Once again—” Lucas tried to argue back, but he got cut off just as you had been. This time, by Dustin.

He shot to his feet. “Hey! Quit it!” he yelled to Max and Lucas, causing them to fall quiet. They seemed startled and honestly you were too. All eyes were on Dustin as he firmly reminded, “this is about Y/N and Steve, not you two.” Dustin then looked at you. “Do you like Steve?” he pushed for an answer, causing you to feel flustered. You felt like a spotlight was on you.

This was not how you expected to admit you had feelings for Steve Harrington…

Then, to make everything even more… you didn’t know the word for it. Weird? It didn’t matter. Point was, Steve appeared all of the sudden and questioned, “I heard my name, what’s going on?”

Well, at least he hadn’t heard everything. “Um,” you didn’t know what to say.

“We told her you love her,” Dustin announced, causing both you and Steve to whip your heads towards him.

“What!?” You and Steve exclaimed in unison. You were both shocked, but in different ways.

“Why would you tell her that!?” Steve demanded an answer from Dustin.

Your eyes found Steve. “You love me?” you asked. He looked down at you, his cheeks flushed and his face still wearing an expression of surprise and confusion.

He swallowed, trying to regain his composure. “I thought he said he told you.”

“He didn’t say love,” you told him. You still couldn’t believe it as you said the words. Steve Harrington loved you… that was a lot to take in.

“Well, he does love you,” Dustin confirmed.

“Be quiet, Henderson!” Steve shouted in frustration at the boy.

“No, I’m tired of you staring at her and always talking about her but doing nothing about it!” Dustin argued, somehow sounding just as frustrated with Steve as Steve was with him.

“I thought you said you didn’t want them to kiss earlier,” Max quipped.

Dustin looked at her and she tilted her head, easing her brows. “They need to kiss and get it over with, just not in front of me,” Dustin clarified.

“Okay!” Steve shouted, holding his hands up, signaling for silence. Then he took a breath before letting out a deep sigh. “Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?” he addressed you calmly. This wasn’t how he wanted you to find out. Hell, he wasn’t planning on you finding out. But if he did tell you, it would’ve been… well, not like this. Now he had to explain himself and hope you didn’t reject him too harshly.

Given the situation with Max, you figured the both of you leaving the room wasn’t the safest and Steve agreed. You found yourselves sitting on the stairs next to one another. You were towards the middle, still in the eyeline of the other three but (hopefully) out of earshot if you talked quietly.

“Here,” Steve murmured, pushing the glass of water he had been holding into your hand. You dipped it, muttered thanks, then set it aside.

“So…” he started off. Steve wasn’t looking at you, but at his hands as he fiddled with his hands. “Henderson told you everything?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “It was a lot of information all at once,” you recalled through a small chuckle. The chaos that had ensued was admittedly funny in hindsight.

“And what do you think of that information?” he asked cautiously, finally looking up and meeting your eyes. Steve was so anxious and he was sure you could see it. Maybe he’d get some of your sympathy so you would let him down gently.

Instead, you surprised him. “I wish you had told me sooner,” you admitted. You had no excuse not to tell Steve everything now that you knew he felt the same. “I feel the same way.”

Steve’s brows raised slightly and a boyish smile crossed his face. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that,” he replied, a huge weight lifting off of his shoulder. His heart still raced but in a different way now.

“I guess I was better at hiding it than you,” you teased. “I mean, I didn’t know—but they did.” You gestured to the kids with a tilt of your head. “Seems like I need to pay better attention.”

You both laughed at that. “I should’ve just said something. I didn’t want to screw things up,” he confessed. Steve then chuckled to himself. “I can’t believe Henderson told you.”

“I guess he did us a favor, huh?” You suggested.

“You’re welcome!” Dustin called over to you. Great, so they had been eavesdropping. It was naive to believe they were actually minding their own business.

“Hey, Dustin?” Steve spoke up now that he knew he was listening. You threw a glance towards the boy and saw he was looking at you guys now.

“What?”

Steve smirked to himself before saying, “Close your eyes.”

Dustin furrowed his brows at that, not realizing the callback Steve was making until he leaned in to kiss you.

The kiss was sweet and full of love and god, his lips were so soft. You smiled against him briefly before returning the kiss with just as much passion.

“Oh, come on,” Dustin complained, likely averting his eyes.

“Leave them alone! This is a big moment,” Max defended you and Steve. You couldn’t help but laugh and the two of you pulled apart, both with smiles on your faces.

“I can’t believe the first time I got to kiss you was in front of,”—he gestured to the teens—“them."

"Me neither," you and Dustin replied at the same time.

#quin-ns writing #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things 4 #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington/you #dustin henderson #max mayfield #lucas sinclair

[livyjh]

Unexpected

A Steddie x Reader fic by livyjh

⚠️EXPLICIT!!! MINORS DNI⚠️

Find it here on ao3

2.3k words

CW: v*ginal s*x female receiving, an*l s*x male receiving, f*ngering female receiving and male receiving, or*l s*x female receiving and male receiving, thr**some, cl*t play, n*pple play

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Summary: Steve and Eddie have been dating for a few months. You’re good friends with them both (and may have crushes on them both) and so naturally you three hang out a lot. This evening happened to go better than expected.

****************************************************

You rolled up to Eddie’s trailer right at 9pm like planned. You got out of your car and walked up to the door with a smile, knocking.

You heard footsteps and then the door swung open, Eddie standing there with a beer in one hand while holding the door open with the other.

“Hey!” Eddie grinned.

“Hey.” You smiled back, stepping up into the trailer and past him through the doorway. You couldn’t help but tingle when brushing up against him.

Steve was sat happily on the couch, waving at you for a moment. “Hey, y/n.”

“Hey, Steve.” You waved back.

“Y/n, want a beer?” Eddie walked to the kitchen.

“Sure.” You nodded and sat down next to Steve. You turned to him. “What’re we watching?”

“Huh? Oh, just the end of Easy Rider.” Steve spoke just as the movie ended and the credits started. He got up and turned off the tv.

“We were about to put on music.” Eddie said, walking into the room and handing you your beer. “Let’s hang out in my room.”

You and Steve nodded, getting up and following Eddie to his bedroom. Naturally, you sat on the chair while Steve and Eddie shared the bed.

Eddie put on a cassette and sat down with Steve, putting an arm around him.

Sometimes you felt weird around them. Left out. It didn’t help that you used to have crushes on each of them. But since they started dating you tried to squash those feelings.

“How was your day, y/n?” Steve asked, settling against Eddie, putting a hand on his thigh. You couldn’t help but stare for a moment.

“Good, it uh, was good. Just a long shift today.” You explained.

You worked at Family Video alongside Steve and Robin.

“Good.” Eddie smiled.

“How about you guys?” You asked.

“We were both off today, so…” Steve began.

“We spent most of today in bed.” Eddie waggled his eyebrows.

You giggled. “Don’t make me jealous.” You half joked, blaming the beer you’d been drinking for making you say something like that.

“Oh?” Eddie smirked.

You blushed. “I mean… it- I don’t-“

“Stevie, I think y/n wants in on this action.” Eddie smiled, turning to Steve.

Steve raised a brow at you. You’d previously shared a drunken kiss with him at a New Year’s party last year, so there was a little history there. “Is that true, y/n?”

You gulped down the rest of the beer in your hand, taking a deep breath. “Have you seen yourselves?” You laughed. “You’re both gorgeous.”

Eddie and Steve shared a long look before turning to you.

“Come here.” Eddie beckoned you with his hand.

Steve scooted over and patted the spot between them for you to come sit.

You swallowed thickly, getting up and climbing into the bed, sitting back against the headboard between them.

Both of them looked at you, moving a little closer.

“What do you say, Eds? Should we play with her?” Steve tucked your hair behind your ear.

You felt yourself immediately getting wet.

Eddie nodded. “How does that sound, sweetheart?” He asked you.

You looked to Eddie, hands lightly gripping the sheets beneath you. “S- sounds… great.” You admitted.

Eddie leaned forward to capture your lips with his, cupping your jaw in his hand.

You sighed through your nose, leaning into Eddie.

You felt Steve’s arm wrap around your waist as his lips met your neck in an open mouthed kiss.

You couldn’t help but moan into Eddie’s mouth, squeezing your thighs together. It didn’t go unnoticed.

You felt Steve smirk against your skin. “Y/n… already need it?”

Eddie pulled out of the kiss with you, “What?”

“She’s squeezing her legs together.” Steve nearly growled against your throat.

“Fuck.” Eddie cursed, reaching down to pull one leg over his to spread you.

You gulped audibly, breath picking up as Eddie trailed his fingers towards your center over your pants.

Steve pulled back, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger to turn your face towards him. He kissed you; hot, hungry.

You whined against his lips when Eddie pressed two fingers against your heat through your thin leggings.

You pushed your hips forward, wanting more from the man. You were desperate and you didn’t mind showing it.

Eddie hummed. “Y/n, you’re wearing far too much.” He got up on his knees and turned to face you.

You pulled out of your kiss with Steve to look at Eddie.

“May I?” Eddie asked, hooking two fingers in the waistband of your leggings.

You nodded, letting him take the pants off of you, leaving you in a long sweater, a bra, and panties.

“Fuck, I can smell you.” Eddie breathed in slowly.

You blushed, trying to squeeze your legs together again.

Eddie held your legs in place. “Ah, ah. Smells good, babygirl.”

“If I’m gonna be naked, I want you two naked, too.” You spoke shyly.

“We’re getting there, baby.” Steve kissed your cheek. Eddie leant up and took off his shirt, Steve doing the same. They both looked at you.

It must be your turn again, you think. You wriggle your sweater off and toss it to the floor, sitting in your bra and panties with a smile. You could hardly believe this was happening.

“Undress each other for me?” You asked, trying to add more confidence to your voice.

Steve and Eddie looked at each other before getting up and standing in front of each other.

Steve looked at you and Eddie took the opportunity to attack the other man’s neck with hot, wet kisses.

Steve’s eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned Eddie’s name.

You bit your lip and put a hand between your legs, gently circling your finger over the wet spot in your panties.

Eddie reached down to unbutton Steve’s jeans, unzipping them slowly before pulling back. He got to his knees, Steve put a hand in his hair and tugged lightly.

You loved the show they were putting on for you, taking their time, teasing you.

Eddie pulled Steve’s pants and boxers down, letting Steve’s hard cock spring free.

The thought that they were hard for each other, and you, had you pressing harder against yourself.

Eddie took Steve in hand and licked his tip, putting his pink lips around the reddened head of Steve’s dick.

Steve pulled harder on Eddie’s hair, letting out a broken moan.

Eddie began to suck Steve’s member with skill, bobbing his head slowly, stroking the rest of Steve with his hand.

“Fuck, babe.” Steve sighed, letting Eddie suck him off. He looked at you with hooded lids, pupils blown large with lust.

Your jaw dropped when you made eye contact with him, reaching into your panties and rubbing yourself.

“Look at her, Eds.” Steve spoke with a gravelly tone in his voice.

Eddie pulled off Steve with a *pop* and turned to look at you touching yourself. He let go of Steve and stood up, putting an arm around his boyfriend.

You slowed your hand, looking at them both with pleading eyes. You couldn’t wait any longer for them to touch you.

Steve got on the bed and crawled between your legs, spreading your thighs with his large hands. He pressed his nose against your clit through your panties, making you yelp. He took a deep breath, sighing with pleasure at your sweet smell. “Can I taste you?”

You looked down at him with ruddy cheeks, nodding.

Eddie took off his jeans and boxers, joining you two on the bed. He sat down next to you as Steve pulled your panties down and off of you.

“Be a good girl for Steve, hm? He’s quite good at this.” Eddie smirked, implying the obvious as he reached around you and took your bra off.

You nodded.

“Say it for me.” Eddie cooed.

“I’ll be a good girl.” You nearly whimpered, Steve’s thumbs spreading you open as he leaned in to lick from your vagina to your clit.

“That’s it.” Eddie brushed your hair away from your face, holding the back of your neck. You lunged forward to kiss him, moaning loudly into his mouth when Steve began sucking your clit.

“Steve-“ You cried out, both hands now gripping Eddie’s shoulders to ground yourself.

“So vocal.” Steve grinned up at you before licking through your folds a few more times.

You tilted your head back and breathed hard, closing your eyes.

Eddie leaned forward and began to suck a mark into your neck, his free hand moving up to your right breast.

You felt Steve’s fingertip teasing your entrance and you looked down at him, nodding.

He smiled and began to press a digit into you, loving how slick you were.

As Steve’s finger pushed inside of you, Eddie leant down and began to swirl his tongue around one of your nipples. You responded by running your fingertips over Eddie’s scalp and grabbing a handful of his hair.

Eddie moaned against your tit, starting to suck at the pink bud.

Meanwhile, your legs began to quiver as Steve’s fingertip rubbed against your g-spot. He stayed watching you and Eddie as he fingered you.

You pulled Eddie’s hair to pull him up and kiss him again, whining when you felt Steve suck at your clit once more.

Eddie continuously kissed you as you got closer and closer to the edge. Steve was worshipping your wet cunt like no one ever had before.

“Fuck- I’m gonna cum…” You breathed out against Eddie’s lips.

Eddie and Steve made eye contact and Eddie gave a nod to Steve to keep going.

Steve continued his ministrations between your legs, two fingers deep as he massaged your clit with his tongue.

You were panting now, Eddie’s lips on your jaw as you came hard, legs shaking violently.

Steve’s fingers stilled but his tongue kept moving as the wave of your orgasm washed over you. He slowed to a stop after five or six seconds.

“Shit, Steve.” You sighed, looking down at the man with hooded eyes.

Steve grinned up at you, licking his lips of your wetness. “You did great, honey.” He rubbed your still twitching thighs.

You nodded at him with a smile, then looking over to Eddie. He raised a brow. “How do you want us?”

You blushed. You hadn’t really thought this through. But you figured it was fair to let Eddie fuck you after Steve got to spend so much time between your legs.

“I want you to fuck me.” You looked at Eddie’s lips.

He nodded.

You turned to Steve. “And I want you to fuck Eddie.”

Steve grinned. “No problem.” He leaned over to kiss Eddie.

Eddie groaned, “Fuck, y/n, you taste so good.” He smiled against Steve’s lips, your juices still lingering.

They pulled out of their kiss, Eddie moving to grab two condoms and then get between your legs. He handed one packet to Steve, who was standing behind him with a small bottle of lube.

Eddie got on his hands and knees above you. “He’s gonna open me up and then we’ll all fuck together, okay, sweetheart?” He smiled.

You nodded, leaning up to kiss him. He moaned against you as Steve pressed one finger into him.

“Still stretched out from earlier.” Steve smirked.

“Gets to top me twice in one day. Stevie got lucky.” Eddie laughed.

Steve hummed in response, pushing a second and third finger into Eddie and making sure he would be comfortable. He pulled his fingers out and put the condom on.

Eddie sat up on his knees for a moment to put his condom on before leaning back over you and giving Steve access to his hole.

“Ready?” Steve asked.

You nodded up at Eddie and Eddie spoke. “We’re ready.” His hips pushed forward and the head of his dick pressed against your folds.

Steve pushed inside of Eddie, making Eddie push into you. “Fuuuck.” Eddie cursed.

You let out a short moan, spreading your legs further.

Once both men were comfortable, Eddie began to move between you and Steve. As he pulled out of you, Steve went deeper inside him.

You rolled your hips up to meet Eddie’s first few slow thrusts. As he sped up, you stayed in place and let him set the rhythm.

Steve was gripping Eddie’s hips, fucking into him.

Eddie was panting, at the height of pleasure with his dick inside your pussy and a dick inside of him at the same time.

You reached up and brushed Eddie’s hair out of his face as he fucked you in earnest. “Feel so good, Eddie.” You whispered.

“Doesn’t he have a nice cock?” Steve added.

“Mhm.” You smiled at Eddie.

Eddie leaned forward to kiss you as his thrusts began to get sloppy and stuttered.

“Gonna cum for us, Eds?” Steve breathed out.

Eddie nodded, moaning against your lips. He reached down to play with your clit, rubbing circles against it at a fast pace.

“Fuck.” You groaned, toes curling as you felt your second orgasm approaching.

“I’m gonna cum.” Steve grabbed Eddie’s ass and guided his hips forward and back.

Eddie was the first to finish, cock pulsing inside of you as he came.

Steve was second, feeling Eddie clench around him was almost enough to make him black out.

You finished at a close third, only two or three seconds after Steve, Eddie rubbing your clit.

The three of you moaned for each other, pleasure filling the room.

Eddie slowed down and finally stopped. Steve pulled out of him and flopped down on the bed next to the two of you.

Eddie’s hips pulled away from you and he laid down on the other side of you.

“That was…” you started.

“I know.” The men spoke in unison before the three of you laughed together.

You were all sufficiently worn out, but Eddie was enough of an angel to get up and grab a blanket and put it over all of you.

“Thanks, Eds.” Steve smiled as you all settled in together.

“Let us know if you ever want to do this again, y/n.” Eddie hummed, kissing your cheek.

“Oh, I will.” You grinned, closing your eyes.

The three of you fell asleep together, heads swimming with bliss.

#Steddie #steddie imagine #steddie smut #steddie x reader smut #Steddie x reader #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #smut #smutty #threes0me #Steve harrington x reader #Eddie munson x reader #Steve harrington/Eddie munson #eddie munson/steve harrington #eddie munson/reader #steve harrington/reader #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #ao3 #Steddie fic #Steddie fanfic #Steddie fanfiction

[moonbeamsandmayhem]

If Steve Harrington would like to lift me up into his arms and fuck me against the nearest hard surface, that’d be great.

#dd speaks #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington smut

[roanniom]

The Shift

Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 6.6k

Read Part 2 Here

Summary: On a sweltering shift at family video, Steve Harrington gets on your nerves.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, Smut, fingering, dirty talk, grinding, PIV sex, semi-public sex, light degradation, enemies to lovers, slight period-correct sexism and homophobia from a customer

It’s positively sweltering inside Family Video today. The box fan on the front counter does absolutely nothing to cool you down, especially as the tension within you runs hotter than the outside sun itself. 

You shouldn’t be here. Today was your day off and you’d had plans with your friends for a pool day to beat the heat, knowing that today was forecasted to be the hottest of the year so far. Instead, you’ve been roped in to cover for Robin. And as much as you love her, part of you kinda secretly hopes she chokes on the milkshake she’s probably enjoying on her date right about now. 

You don’t really want her to choke of course. You’ve been hyping her up for her eventual first date with Vicki for a long time now. It warms your cold, dead, perennially single heart to see your friend getting something she’s really wanted. Something she never thought would happen for her, especially not in Hawkins, Indiana. 

But Hawkins, Indiana is exactly where you wish you weren’t right now. You’d rather be somewhere cool. Somewhere with ice and a breeze and fresh air. 

Somewhere without Steve Harrington. 

“You’ve been hogging the fan all day, trainee. Come on, give another sweaty bastard a turn.”

Speak of the devil.

You turn and glare directly into the face of your nemesis. Okay, nemesis is a little bit of an exaggeration. You aren’t mortal enemies, perhaps, but you would love to smack his smug face. Just once. 

“For the last time. Stop calling me that. I have been working here almost as long as you,” you huff, not bothering to move an inch out of the radius of the fan.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I am the one who trained you. Making you - eternally - my trainee,” Steve responds, elbowing his way around you and into the line of semi-cool air. 

“I was literally hired a month after you.” 

“Doesn’t change the fact that I showed you the ropes.”

“Only because the manager spent the night passed out in the ditch behind the liquor store.” You finish reboxing your last rewound tape, clicking it closed with a definitive snap.

“Hey. Jessie’s doing really well in rehab these days. Give him a break.” Steve pulls the stocking cart up and around to the counter and reaches for the tapes you’d just stacked. You yank them away from his grasp and haul them over to the cart yourself.

“And by ‘showed you the ropes’ are you referring to the fact that you broke the label maker in front of me and taught me how to get free snacks out of the break room vending machine?” You start pushing the cart towards the comedy section, not bothering to wait for Steve’s response.

“Hey! You should be thanking me for every bag of Reese’s Pieces I see you scarfing each day.” Steve comes up jogging behind you, grabbing the copy of Weird Science out of your hand before you can shelve it.

“Shut up, Harrington. As if you aren’t slamming M&M’s by the bushel.” You try to reach for the tape but he holds it up out of your reach. Damn his stupid height. 

“Don’t you dare act like M&M’s aren’t the superior candy.” 

“They melt in your hand - ,”

“So do Reese’s Pieces!” Steve cries out, interrupting you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Steve. I forgot that a handful of goopy M&M’s are what helped E.T. assimilate to this planet,” you say, rolling your eyes and abandoning Weird Science to his grasp. Let him shelve the damn thing. You move on to the next aisle. 

Steve, of course, follows behind. 

“You and that stupid little alien.” Which of course makes you round on him, to which he throws Weird Science up in front of himself as a shield. 

“E.T. is a seminal piece of filmmaking and Spielberg’s best work to date, so don’t you get started again -,”

“Oh bullshit. His best work?” Steve’s brow is furrowed darkly as if you’ve committed some irredeemable act instead of simply disagreeing with his film opinions. 

“Um, excuse me? A little help here?” The voice of Ms. Jenkins, elderly and snippy, issues from the front counter where she stands with a handful of tapes. You give Steve a mean look and bound over to your solitary customer. 

“Yes of course, let me ring you up, ma’am,” you say sweetly, making quick work of checking to make sure the tapes are rewound before scanning and reading off the total to her. You always have to double check that tapes are rewound because you sure as hell can’t be certain that Steve has done his job when that particular chore is on his list of responsibilities. 

By the time Ms. Jenkins is out the door with her rentals, Steve’s pushed the cart to the shelves closest to the counter, lazily fingering the spines of the horror tapes in a bored pursuit of a particular alphabetic location. 

“Jaws.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said Jaws.”

“What about Jaws?” you ask with a sigh, leaning your hip against the counter and crossing your arms. 

“Spielberg’s best movie.”

“Grow up, Harrington.”

“Excuse me?!” Steve drops the tape he’s holding and rushes over to you with fists raised. “Are you suggesting there’s something childish about enjoying Jaws?”

“Maybe,” you shrug, noncommittal. You don’t actually believe that, you just have found yourself in this rhetorical hole with Steve before and you don’t really want to get into an actual discussion. That and you love riling him up. It’s easier than committing to a movie to pop into the vcr above the counter and just as entertaining. 

“You…I just…ughh.” Steve seems at a loss for words as he grapples with your vague criticism as if it isn’t the thousandth time you’ve had this argument. “That movie is a mature, grown up cinematic masterpiece and I can prove it. Number one,” he holds up one finger. “It is gory as hell. There’s a fuck ton of blood.”

“Violence is your evidence of maturity, Harrington?”

Steve scoffs at you and lifts up a second finger. 

“Number two, the score is iconic.” He hunches a little and starts stalking towards you slowly, predatorily. “Duuun uh, duuun uh,  dun uh dun uh dun uh - ,”

“I know the score, Steve!” you speak over his crescendoing vocalization. 

“Come on! That’s iconic!” You roll your eyes but nod. 

“I mean yeah. You got me there.”

“Ahah!” Steve punches the air as if he’s one some massive victory rather than simply receiving your noncommittal agreement on one part of a larger argument. He holds up a third finger. “And to round us out with number three - tits.”

Exactly as he says ‘tits’ - proudly and loudly, you notice - an elderly gentleman walks into the store. He freezes in the doorway looking at the two of you, clearly affronted. 

“Good afternoon, sir! Let us know if you need any help!” you hastily speak up, distancing yourself from Steve and plastering on a huge smile. The man harumphs and walks into the store, grumbling something about ‘kids these days.’ You turn and shoot daggers at a sheepish looking Steve.

“Tits? Really?” Your whisper comes out poisonous.

“What’s more mature than tits?” he asks, equally hushed. 

“Obviously not you, moron.” You start making your way back to the cart but stop in your tracks, thinking. Instead, you turn back and whisper to him. “Wait…when are there tits in Jaws?”

~*~ 

Ten minutes later, after the disapproving customer had checked out, copy of Cocoon in hand (a little on the nose, something you tried not to laugh about as you rang him up), you and Steve both stand huddled near the tv hooked up to the VCR. 

You’re watching the opening sequence, where two teens are giving each other eyes across the way at a bonfire party. It’s charged. It’s flirtatious. The girl gets up and heads towards the beach, the guy following in hot, drunken pursuit. 

It’s a cute moment. A calm before the storm, you think, because of course you know better. You know what’s going to happen in just a few moments. But suspended in time, this couple’s cat and mouse game is sexy. It’s playful. 

It’s not the point of the scene, but you  feel yourself getting riled up. Not exactly turned on but…what’s the word? Yearning? Pathetic. It’s been a little too long since you’ve gotten any and the heat is getting you your head, you reason with yourself internally. 

As the girl gets closer to the water she begins discarding her clothes in preparation for what everyone knows will be her final skinny dip. As she does so, Steve hurtles forward and hits the pause button, freezing her perfectly in time as her shirt comes over her head revealing the silhouette of heavy breasts, mid swing. 

“Tits!” Steve cries out, pointing directly at the revealed breasts on screen. “I fucking told you.”

“What do you want, Steve? A cookie?” You make sure your face stays neutral. You don’t want to give away the fact that the sexual implications of the scene have you all hot and bothered. Harrington doesn’t deserve that information. 

“You said there weren’t any tits in Jaws.”

“I asked when were there tits in Jaws. I apologize that a pair of movie breasts didn’t imprint chemically in my brain the way they did for you.” 

“I’m sorry. When did the prude switch shifts with the trainee? I didn’t get the memo.” Steve says haughtily, ejecting the tape from the VCR and putting it back in its case. Your jaw drops at his words but he pays you no mind, walking back to reshelf the movie. You run after him. 

“I’m not a fucking prude, Harrington.” 

“Oh I know you’re not. That’s what I’m getting at.” Steve slots Jaws back in its place and heads back towards the break room. 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you demand, hot on his trail. 

“I’m at the same parties you go to, trainee. I’m not blind. You like to have a good time.” He shrugs, walking up to the beaten old vending machine. It’s much hotter here in the back room than it was out on the main floor, probably due to the lack of windows and fans. Steve kicks the corner of the vending machine and raps his knuckles against the side panel before reaching to type the code for the M&M’s. You lunge forward and beat him to it, slamming your finger down on a different button. “Fuck! Seriously?!” 

“You’re really going to slut shame me? Here at work?” You ask, snatching the packet of Reese’s Pieces as it falls into the dispenser tray. 

“The pot is very much calling the kettle black here, don’t you think?” Steve kicks the corner of the machine and taps the side again, but instead of beeping in recognition, the machine stays dormant. You pop a candy in your mouth smugly as Steve grunts in frustration. 

“I’m not the whore of Hawkins, Harrington. But that might be a title with which you can identify.” 

“Nice alliteration, brainiac.” Steve kicks the machine harder this time. Clearly with more malicious intent towards the hulking appliance rather than with the strategy of overriding the payment mechanism. 

“You know about alliteration? You didn’t skip that lesson in English class to fondle a bimbo under the bleachers?” You pop another candy in your mouth and fan yourself. The heat is starting to get to you. It is suffocating in this room. Your collar is stuck to your neck and you grab at the front of your shirt, billowing it out to try and stimulate an internal breeze. You look up and find Steve staring at the place where your hand pulls at your clothes, but he’s quick to look away, shoving a hand through his messy hair. 

“Oh yeah? I’m not the one pushing my tits together whenever a slightly attractive guy comes in. I swear I saw you almost put your hand down the pants of that ex-football loser who came in here looking for fucking Flash Gordon for the tenth time.”

You gasp at his audacity. Because how dare he say that to you but also because it is objectively untrue. You had lightly flirted with the man, sure. You were bored and he had broad shoulders. Sue you. But Steve has no right to any sort of commentary. 

“I’m sorry Mr. This-way-to-the-romance-section-and-while-we’re-at-it-why-don’t-you-come-watch-it-at-my-place Harrington. A blonde with big boobs so much as thinks about walking in here and your eyes are popping out of your head and your tongue is trailing on the floor.”

“You’re using the description of a horny cartoon character to describe me? Nice. Real nice.” Steve bangs on the side of the machine with his fist one more time and you let out a groan. 

“Stop beating up the vending machine, for fuck’s sake. Here!” You reach into your pocket and grab a dollar, thrusting it into his face. Steve swats your hand away.

“I have money, trainee.” He reaches into his own pocket and fishes out a dollar which he proceeds to jam unceremoniously into the slot. 

You drop yourself into one of the seats at the lunch table and grab for a magazine to fan yourself with. 

“Well if you’re so loaded, why are you always stealing snacks?” 

Steve ignores you, punching in the correct code this time. When another packet of Reese’s Pieces drops instead of the M&Ms he’d asked for, he lets out massive cry of frustration. 

“What the fuck?”

“Well that’s the funniest thing I’ve seen all day,” you say, crossing your arms in your seat and biting your lip to keep from smiling widely. 

“What the FUCK!” 

“Maybe it’s karma, for being such an asshole to me,” you shrug. Steve whips around, shooting you daggers. 

“I’ve had it about up to here with you today, trainee.” He stalks over to the water cooler and rips out a little cone paper cup, accidentally pulling out three too many in the process. You continue fanning yourself with the magazine languidly. 

“Oh wow, I’m so sorry dad.”

Steve actually barks a laugh at that and looks at you over his shoulder, filling the paper cup with room temp water. 

“You’re not the first to make that association.”

“Oh gross, Harrington. I didn’t ask for insight into your sex life,” you pretend to gag. 

Steve knocks back the water and crushes the paper cone in his fist, tossing it over his shoulder as he goes to join you at the table. You are positively irked to notice that he makes it perfectly into the trash without even looking. 

“That’s not what I meant but I’m not opposed to being called daddy, fyi,” he says, winking at you. 

“I’m sure you’re not. Seems right up your alley.” Your words are derisive but you can’t help the breathless quality they take on. It must be a side effect of this fucking heat. You’re not taking in air properly. 

“Yeah? Well I’ll bet you’re really mean between the sheets.” 

“Oh you’ll bet that?” you ask with a snort, trying to ignore the paradoxical shiver that runs through your body at the implication. 

“Yeah. You seem to derive a sick pleasure from giving me a hard time. Wouldn’t be shocked if insults turn you on.” 

“Not a super fan of being degraded, Steve. Sorry to burst your bubble,” you reply lightly. Like his suggestion didn’t just add a palpitation to your heart beat. Steve bites his lip contemplatively. 

“Well I really meant that I think you like being the one to dish out the insults,” he clarifies. But then he’s leaning closer to you across the table, a smirk spreading across his face as he takes in the way your posture is scrunching defensively. “But actually now that I think of it…I feel like you probably would like being degraded.” 

“Excuse me?” you exhale sharply, realizing you’d been holding your breath as his proximity increased. 

“You’re a perfectionist. A good girl, or you are most of the time, as we’ve established.” Steve’s finger slides across the table towards you and your gaze locks on its approaching motion. “I could see you looking for an excuse to let go of all that pressure. To be bad.” 

You’ve stopped breathing again, mesmerized by his slow words and the trajectory of his sliding finger. Then suddenly he’s reaching out and snatching the half empty bag of Reese’s Pieces from your grasp, upending it in the air above his face and crunching down on the remaining candy. 

“Hey!” you cry out, lunging for him only to be stopped by his defensive hand outstretching and catching you, holding you an arm length away. Steve makes a face.

“It’s a crime that this is peanut butter instead of chocolate.”

You grab him by the front of the shirt and get very close to him, glaring up into his stupid, pretty face.

“You’ll pay for that, Steve Harrington.”

“Yeah? How?” he asks. His eyes are looking down into yours, the remnants of his smirk slowly fading from his face. The heat is sweltering. Hotter than it’s been during your entire shift and you really should run out the front door for some air before you pass out but…you’re rooted to the spot. 

You inhale in order to respond - not even sure of what you’ll say once the words start flowing - but you’re immediately interrupted by the ding of the bell on the front door. 

“Hello? Anybody here?”

The customer’s voice cuts through the tension between you and you let go of Steve’s shirt like it’s on fire. 

“Just a minute!” you call out in your sing-song-y customer service voice. You hear Steve groan behind you but you don’t give him a second thought as you dash out onto the floor of the store. 

The same grumpy man from earlier stands at the counter, grumpier than ever and brandishing his tape towards you. 

“I got all the way home just to realize that the wrong tape is in this blasted box.” He wrenches open the case for Cocoon to reveal a copy of Tootsie. You try not to laugh at his absurdly wounded expression and grab the tape from him.

“I am so sorry, sir, we’ll get this sorted for you,” you assure, turning around to let out a silent chuckle. You shuffle through the bare tapes on the counter and find the correct one, silently cursing Steve for his disorganization. 

“This is unacceptable, young lady,” the old man grumbles as you put the Cocoon tape in its box. 

“Everyone makes mistakes, unfortunately.”

“I expect a higher quality of service. I fought on D Day, you know.”

“We did not know that, thank you for your service,” Steve mumbles sarcastically coming up beside you behind the counter. The man doesn’t catch his facetiousness and wags a fervent finger.

“That’s right. I should be treated with some respect.”

“Without a doubt,” Steve replies. You silently snap the tape box closed and hand it over, trying not to look annoyed.But the man doesn’t take it from you. Instead he points over at the stack of tapes where you had placed the copy of Tootsie. 

“She tried to give me a movie with a man in a dress,” he accuses and you scoff. Steve glances over, clocking which movie it is and no doubt realizing that the mistake was his own. 

“Well, I’ll be honest with you, she was doing you a favor, because Dustin Hoffman is just a delight - ,”

“As her manager, I think you should fire her,” the man interrupts Steve. 

“Excuse me?” you ask, shocked at his audacity. Steve holds his hands up in a time out symbol. 

“First of all, I’m not her manager, and second of all. She’s done nothing wrong.”

“She gave me a fruity movie!” the man cries out. 

“Ok then,” you push away from the counter and head towards the back room, completely done with this interaction. 

“Sir, fruit is delicious,” Steve argues, distracted as he watches you stalk off to the back, anxious to follow. The old man wags his finger even more violently. 

“I’ll be telling the owner, just you wait. Do you take me for a fruit, young man?” he raises his voice.

“Yeah a raisin, sir. Please get out of my store.” Steve’s voice lowers in tone, but the authority in it increases tenfold. “Now.”

~*~

Steve finds you pacing around the break room, a paper water cone crushed in your hand. He approaches to comfort you, but the second he enters, you round on him.

“How could you do that to me?”

“Do what? Defend you?” Steve’s bewildered by your reaction, hands up in the air in front of himself defensively. 

“I wouldn’t need defending if you weren’t such a fuck up at your job, Steve.” You flail a hand in the direction of the front counter. 

“You said it yourself that everyone makes mistakes.”

“I was lying, Harrington. I don’t make mistakes. You make enough for the both of us.” You go to turn away from him but he grabs your elbow.

“Oh what, and you’re Ms. Fucking Perfect? Huh?” You wrench your elbow out his grasp. 

“In comparison to you? Hell yeah.” 

“That’s rich,” Steve barks out a laugh, running a hand through the hair at the back of his head. His stance squares off with you and he too points out toward the front counter. “How many times have I had to save you from customers who are asking for films you’ve never fucking heard about?”

“Shut up, Steve,” you roll your eyes and Steve gets more emphatic. 

“How many times have I had to come stop some creep who’s being weird to you?”

“Oh fuck you. My hero. My white knight, scaring away the big bad men,” you say in a mocking tone. You cross your arms over your chest and for the first time since walking into the back room Steve notices that you have unbuttoned a large portion of the top buttons on your shirt, probably due to the heat. With your arms folded over your chest, he can see your cleavage and he swallows. You notice and drop your arms with a scoff. “You fucking pervert. You’re no better than the rest of them!”

“What? What?!” Steve blusters, trying to play off the fact that you caught him staring. 

“You’re a fucking horn dog, that’s what.” 

“Oh please.” He turns around with a dismissive laugh and you step forward to follow him, staying in his space. 

“You know what I think? I think the reason you give me a hard time is because I never gave you the time of day,” you declare, putting your hands on your hips. The heat is rising within you now. The air is stifling and electric around you as Steve takes an angry step closer to you and you feel crackling as if you’re in the middle of a heat lightning storm. 

“Well you’re way off base with that theory, trainee,” Steve bites out. He’s smirking at you. Goddamn smirking at you as if he’s got the upperhand in spite of what you’ve just accused him of. 

“And what makes you say that?”

“Because I know you asked Robin if I was single when you first started working here,” he says smugly. He folds his arms across his own chest now and you curse your fucking eyes because they widen while taking in the way his biceps now look. Large and defined as his sleeves shift up. 

“So? That doesn’t prove anything. Maybe I just wanted to know if you were cheating on a girlfriend with all the flirting you insist on doing,” you manage to reply coolly. But Steve’s shaking his head before you even finish your statement. 

“I believe your words were - and I quote - ‘Is Steve single? Because he’s hot as fuck. I’d let that boy bend me over the break room table’.” His voice takes on a high pitched mocking quality as he approximates your tone. 

Your eyes blow wide and your jaw drops to the floor. 

“Robin, that bitch.” 

“Don’t blame Robin for your horny fantasies, trainee.” He’s got a smile on his face that you just want to slap off. Your fingers flex at your sides but you hold yourself back, taking a deep breath. 

“Then you don’t blame her for the fact that she told me you get a semi every time I wear these jeans?” 

Steve’s eyes practically bug out of his head and dart down to look at the jeans in question. You quirk an eye up, your turn to smile.

“I - what? No!” 

“So she lied? This doesn’t do it for you?” you ask, turning slightly and leaning on the back of a chair so that your ass stuck out a little, accentuating your curves. Steve’s gaze drops to your ass before pinballing all the way around the room, desperately looking at anything and everything other than you. 

“That’s not…you’re full of…”

“No, you’re full of it, Harrington. Admit it,” you say, straightening up and pointing at him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve says, standing a little straighter and looking at you now that you’re no longer presenting your ass to him.  

“You find me irresistable,” you accuse. Steve laughs loudly and without humor. 

“And yet here I am. Perfectly capable of resisting,” he says, standing his ground. “Meanwhile you’re practically throwing yourself at me.”

“You fucking wish!”

“In your dreams.”

“In my nightmares.” 

The next few seconds seem to play out, paradoxically, both sped up and in slow motion. The heat fills the space around you, almost thick enough to cushion the air. And then Steve’s body is hurtling towards yours. Or yours towards his - you can’t be sure. All you are aware of is movement and then contact. The woosh of air and then the solidness of impact. 

Steve’s hands are on your waist, pulling your body against his as his lips crash against yours. Your hands are in his hair before you can even think about it, your movements automatic and entirely involuntary as far as you’re concerned. Fingers fisting in his locks you kick yourself internally because they feel exactly like you thought they would. Fucking pretty haired pretty boy.

His tongue is at the seam of your lips, forcing your mouth open ruthlessly and you comply, allowing him to sweep inside. Steve turns his head to the side, deepening the kiss and pushing down into you until you feel yourself being folded back, his hand sliding to your tailbone to support you through the dip.

When he pulls away, both of you gasping for air, he doesn’t move far, instead dipping to suck biting kisses against your throat.

“You gonna tell me to stop?”

His words don’t make any sense as they enter your hazy brain. One of your hands drops to his shoulder, grasping. Clinging really as he delivers a particularly rough suck to the place beneath your ear.

“W-what?”

“If you hate me so much this must be torture for you,” he breathes into your skin. The smugness has returned to his voice, muted though it is against your throat. 

“I fucking hate you, Harrington,” you seethe. He’s laughing now against your throat. 

“I know, that’s what I just said - ,”

You cut him off by roughly grabbing him by the hair and bringing him back to your lips. The moan he looses into your mouth has you humming with a satisfaction that seeps deep down into your core. He’s not getting the upper hand so easily. Not if you have anything to say about it. 

Now on a single-minded mission to ruin him, you reach down and splay your hand out against his lower back, rolling your hips forward in tandem with the motion in order to grind your pelvis against his. He lets out a groan that you feel in your extremities, so you repeat the move. 

Suddenly the hands that are on your waist drop to your hips and wrench you around so your back is to him. The twirl disorients you and you gasp, blinking at the back of the break room and panting as Steve’s hands pull you back - ass against his pelvis. 

He slaps a hand on the back of your thigh - making you whine - and slides up your curve to grip a handful of your ass. 

“I’ll be the bigger person,” he says with a heavy chuckle into your ear. “I can admit these jeans do it for me.”

A laugh rocks through your body in spite of yourself. 

“Oh yeah? They giving you a semi?” you ask jokingly. Steve pulls you back against him, hips bracketing your ass, and you feel him pressing into you. Hard. Nothing semi about it. 

“What do you think?” His voice is gruff now, his lower half grinding slowly, deliberately into yours. 

“I think you’re hard,” you say on an exhale. His laugh is full throated and his grip on your hips tighten.

“Very observant, trainee. A+ work.” His face buries itself into the crook between your neck and shoulder, lips toying with the skin there. 

“Don’t call me trainee.” Your voice is breathless but for once there is no menace in it when you say the sentence you’ve yelled at him a million times.

“No? What should I call you then?” His lips are at your ear. His fingertips dig into your hips and push you back into him. Making you feel him. “Baby? Darling?”

You let out a gasping laugh when he bucks into you from behind, knocking you off balance a bit so you have to lean forward and grasp the edge of the table. He follows you down, chest still against your back. 

“...slut?”

You’d love it if your response was to laugh in his face. To pry his hands off of you, straighten up your clothes, and walk out the door. But that’s not what happens. 

You moan. 

He says the word and you moan. 

It’s dark and filthy and you feel hot shame the minute it issues from your mouth, but the way his fingers tense immediately has got heat pooling directly between your thighs. 

“Holy shit.”

“I…that doesn’t…”

“Holy shit!” His words are laughing and victorious and he’s nuzzling his face over your shoulder even as you try to crouch away. “I fucking called it.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” you argue, even as your back arches slightly and find yourself rocking back into him. His hand slides over the slope of your hip to the front of your jeans. 

“You moaned, trainee. I called you a slut and you moaned.” Steve’s hand cups your mound then, middle finger pressing up into the center seam of your jeans. 

“F-fuck…”  You swivel your hips to grind down into his hand, suddenly getting a taste of the friction you’d begun to crave. 

Steve uses his hand between your legs to ground you against him, giving him leverage with which to rub his hard-on directly into your ass. 

“You can lie all you want. Calling you a slut is making you writhe for me…like a cute little slut.”

You huff out an exhale and look over your shoulder at him.

“Is it the word or the fact that you’re practically fingering me through my jeans and humping me? Which is it, Steve?”

His cocky smile only widens and he shoots forward to steal a kiss over your shoulder since you’re looking at him. 

“Both?” 

“Oh christ, Harrington…” you trail off as his hand slides up and starts opening your jeans. 

“You do have a point though…” he says, biting his lip in concentration. He yanks your jeans down over your ass, leaving them bunched around your knees. His hand cups you through your underwear before yanking them to the side, fingers sweeping directly over your wet slit as you shiver. “Through the jeans wasn’t that efficient.”

“Pretty boy worries about efficiency?” you ask derisively. His finger has found your clit with no problem and your knees are feeling weaker by the second, but you definitely aren’t going to go easy on him. 

“Being pretty isn’t the only thing I’m good at, you know,” he says with humor. You find the wherewithal to reach back and peel his other hand off your hip, bringing it to close around your breast. Steve intakes breath sharply. 

“Same,” you reply with a smirk. He gropes you experimentally through your shirt before rooting underneath the hem to find your bra-clad breast. 

“So you think you’re pretty?” he taunts. 

“You do.”

“I think you’re pretty or I think I’m pretty?” Steve asks, pulling your breast out of the cup and pinching your nipple just as he sinks a finger into your pussy.

“Fuck…the first one…both…just shut up,” you grit out and arch your back. 

“I knew you’d been mean to me,” Steve quips before sinking his teeth lightly into your shoulder. 

“Steve, do you want to fuck me?” you ask, voice tinged with annoyance. His head shoots over your shoulder to try and get a look at your face.

“I can fuck you?” He sounds like an enthusiastic puppy dog and your heart lurches in spite of itself. 

“Not if you keep making fun of me, you can’t,” you say, though there’s humor in the words. 

“Ahh, you can dish it but you can’t take it. I get it. That’s cool.” Steve’s tone is casual. The exact opposite of his actions as he slowly adds another finger into your dripping channel. You keen forward, both from the force of the pleasure and from the way your reaction makes him grind his dick even harder against your ass. 

“Um…Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“So…are you going to fuck me?”

Your question makes him laugh and has his hips stuttering against you. 

“Eager to make the fantasy of me bending you over this table a reality?” 

“No. Eager to fast forward to the part where you wake up having creamed your pj’s thinking of me,” you retort, this time with a massive smile on your face as you recall the story you’d been told about Steve’s wet dreams. Steve groans. 

“Fucking Robin,” he says, letting go of your breast to reach down and open his own pants. 

“She’s the worst,” you agree. The anticipation is mounting and sweat drips off your brow. You’d down on your elbows now, bent over the table, and you can’t see Steve behind you, but you can hear the rustle of clothing. He yanks your jeans and underwear down to your ankles suddenly and you yelp and he nudges your thighs open so your legs are spread hip-width apart. 

You wait a few breathless heart beats until the sound of skin on skin - which does not include your own - has you looking over your shoulder. 

Steve is standing behind you, his own pants pooled at his feet, with his cock in his hand. He’s gripping it, giving it long, slow strokes as his eyes hungrily consume your half-bare body. 

“I…think you might kill me,” he says seriously, dragging his eyes up from your pussy to your face. You gesture down to the cock he is fisting, eyeing the size.

“Back at you.” 

He laughs at your response and heat rushes through you at how beautiful he looks with the smile cracking his face wide. You want him. Now. 

So you turn back around and bend yourself over the table again, shifting side to side to sway your ass at him enticingly. 

Steve’s on you not even a second later. His hands smooth over your hips and waist and his cock slides between your legs, between your folds. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit.” He’s repeating the phrase over and over under his breath and you’d laugh but you’re feeling similarly speechless. Impatient now, you reach back and take his cock in your hand, making him hiss. You arch and lean forward, guiding his tip into you until his hands grip your hips and he steps forward, slipping in inch by inch. 

“Oh fuck,” you both swear, practically in unison. Steve remains still for a second to let you adjust, and also to ground himself as he takes in all of what is happening in this moment. 

You find yourself nearly shaking from the feel of him inside you. He feels so good and it’s been a long, empty summer so far. Of course you’re horny, you reason with yourself in your head as you shift forward, trying to entice him to move, which he does. He’s hot and you’re horny and and it feels good. It feeels good.

“Yeah? Feels good?” 

Shit. You’ve been speaking your thoughts out loud. You go to contradict him - to take it back - but then he’s kissing your neck and you can’t help but hum. 

“Yeah. It’s good.” 

He finds a steady pace before the his words return again, this time more hoarse than before. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he groans out, thrusting into you particularly hard. Feeling sweat slick your skin you laugh.

“It’s because there’s no fan in here.”

“Oh, she’s shy about compliments suddenly,” Steve intuits and you roll your eyes, though he can’t see it. “She knows she’s hot but doesn’t want me to point it out?”

“Steve…” you warn, but there’s little else you can do as he reaches a hand down to the apex of your thighs and starts fingering your clit. You grip numbly at the table. 

“Yeah, baby? You want me to stop talking about your incredible body?” he teases, his other hand coming down flat over your back to push you further down into the table before reclaiming your hip. “How good it feels to be inside you?”

“You’re a cocky bastard,” you say, but it comes out in a whine. You’re record-breakingly close to cumming and your brain and body seem disconnected. Unsure of what to do about the short circuiting feeling of shame and pleasure and annoyance and fondness, all of which are completely Steve’s fault. 

“You’ve got that right, sweetheart,” he responds, inhaling sharply when you clench around him in response. “What’s that? So you like being called sweetheart?”

“Mmmm,” is all you manage to moan out, though he takes it correctly as an affirmation. He has both hands gripping your waist now, allowing nothing to distract him from pounding into you, chasing his own release now while also rocketing you towards your own. 

“So you do like a little sweetness after all.” It’s teasing but you’re too fucked out to care at this point. So close. So close. Steve’s kissing the spot under your ear as he slows down to fuck you harder. Deeper. “Good thing I like it sweet. That’s how I’ve always wanted to be with you, sweetheart.”

Is it cheesy? Yes. Is it something that usually would have you slapping him and walking away? Yes.

But now you’re cumming. Crying out his name as his cock slides into you, your walls bearing down and spasming around him. 

You don’t even know where your orgasm ends and his begins, you’re so blinded by pleasure. But he’s shaking around you and his hips are stuttering and then his weight is pressing you into the table as he pants. 

There’s a split second where your shared breathe is all you can sense. His skin on yours has you buzzing and your muscles are jelly. You don’t even have a moment to think about repercussions or right or wrong. There’s just…Steve.

And then the bell rings in the distance indicating someone has entered the front door.

“Hellooo!” Comes Robin’s sing song voice. “Do my sad single friends want to hear how my date went?”

~*~

Read Part 2 Here

Steve / Stranger Things tag list (some of these are assumptions based on your interactions with my posts about my steve fic, so sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged!): @boomhauer @asbisexualasitgets @bluetreecloud20 @flightless-b1rds  let-my-ship-sail @fandomsimper @livlovelaughh @maggiemaes-stuff @adultnitemares @wonderfulw0rldx​ @bellaiscool @halolani  supe-r-nova  r4nd0mf4nd0mz25  spookyreidd  cmlover101  coolestgirlhere  jadenswifey22  ashleighjadecharlton  everybodywantstobetouched  uhcastiels  monsterhighprincess99  misaamaneswifey  steveharringtonsdaddy  getoutandtouchtherain  alexxavicry  craze4bau  sabrinablack194  iseultult  devonisntreal  navybluebitch  macey730  izbot6  sweetkyotto  @millenialcatlady​  creme-delacreme  s-trawberryv-eins  amatchinwater  vamdevil  xoxchanxl  mrssharrington  edwardmunsn  moonyscardigans  wayward-rose 

#steve Harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington fanfic #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington/you #steve harrington x fem!reader #fem!reader

[denim-mixtapes]

Nothin' but a Good Time - [1/?]

Wealthy!Steve Harrington x Fem!Stripper!Reader Rating: Eventually E, this chapter contains no smut yet but mentions drug and alcohol use and strip clubs. Words: 3.7k

AO3

It's 1996 and Steve Harrington has found himself, somehow, with the fancy office job and lush apartment and more than enough disposable income to spend on booze and drugs and one night stands to distract himself from how much he HATES his scummy corporate law job and too-big, too-empty apartment. You, after years of saving, begging cheapskates and creeps for tips as a waitress by day and dancing for bigger tips from bigger creeps after dark, finally afford yourself the opportunity to move into the fancy downtown apartment of your dreams. When you move in next door to Steve Harrington, there's no way of knowing if you've just met the next great love(r) of your life or the biggest pain in your ass you'll ever know. It's entirely possible that it could be both.

November, 1996 – Steve

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

A faint rhythm builds from behind the door of Steve Harrington’s office, slow, steady, louder and louder until eventually the sound is muffled and interrupted by a low groan. 

“Fuck!”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Just outside the door, his secretary is left aghast, wondering when she missed the arrival of this midday rendezvous and exactly when Harrington had become so daring. Sure, she’s seen her fair share of interns and lower level assistants escorted into his office after late stressful nights or the occasional holiday party, but he’s never been so brave as to interrupt the work day for a bit of afternoon delight. The kid may be a little dense sometimes, but he isn’t that dumb. 

Usually Harrington is by the book, strictly on schedule and often working through lunch to stay on the boss’ good side. So the fact that he’s running late to a meeting in favor of a roll in the hay, well, she is shocked to say the least. 

Corralling all of her bravery into one swift motion, she knocks on the door and is surprised to hear his, “come in,” right away. Maybe a little haggard and hushed in one breath, but immediate nonetheless. Needless to say, the stout woman is nervous about what she’ll find on the other side of the door when she opens it. 

What she finds, however, is nothing more than a slightly rumpled version of Steve Harrington. Tie undone, sleeves of his collared shirt shoved up to the elbows, and his glasses placed gingerly on the desk beside him. His hair is a riot from where he was just repeatedly banging his forehead against the desk, sporting a wide swath of plump red skin above his eyebrows as evidence of the act. No, she hadn’t walked in on anything indecent, only the culmination of stress and burnout on her young boss. 

“Sorry for the noise, Linda,” he breathes, scrubbing a palm over one tired eye and down his cheek. “I just– there’s no elaborate explanation here. It’s just been a day.” He types something quickly into the computer before him and then presses the power button on the boxy monitor, turning to give her his full attention with his hands folded on the desk in front of him. “What can I do for you?”

She mirrors his posture, fingers laced together but hanging limp at her midsection, “I was just wondering if I should call Mr. Greene and inform him you won’t be able to make it to the 3 o’clock partner meeting.”  

Eyeing the clock on the wall beside him, Steve’s eyes widen to saucers and his chair scrapes loudly against hardwood floor as he stands up in a haste, collecting paperwork and wayward supplies into his briefcase as he does. “Shit.” His brows knit in a gesture of apology for his language, but Linda simply chuckles and steps out of his way. “Sorry, sorry! Thank you, Lin!” 

—

No matter how hard he tries to act the part of a corporate bigwig asshole, Steve is convinced he may never get the hang of it. If he were to be honest, he isn’t entirely sure how he made it this far. Truthfully, he’s hanging on by the skin of his teeth and the Harrington name. 

After a year of hopping from minimum wage job to minimum wage job, he finally broke down and listened to his father’s demands. Just get the damn degree, Steven, he’d said, I have a job all ready to be laid at your feet, all you have to do is pull your head out of your ass and get the degree. So he did. He sucked it up, used the influence of his family name and a bit more of the Harrington fortune to attend the most prestigious law school he never would have been able to get into with his academic record alone. When he graduated, as promised, he was offered a position just above entry level with a 401k and a more than generous benefits package. He wasn’t sure how many strings his father had to pull or how much bribing it took, but he landed this cushy job that got him out of his childhood home and into an apartment of his own, something that he’s sure benefited not only himself, but also the parents who were clearly sick of putting him up well past 18. Over the better half of the last decade, he took ‘Fake it till you make it’ to heart and managed to charm his way up the corporate ladder, and now here he is: pushing thirty with a private corner office, the title of junior partner, representing corporations he didn’t care much for and working under senior lawyers he liked even less…but this job pays more than generously. It affords him luxuries like the latest new apartment with more square footage than he knows what to do with and the city view from his living room window. It affords him as many trips out to Massachusetts to visit Robin and Nancy as he’d like, stunning suits and flashy watches he never could have dreamed of affording when he worked at Family video and refused his family fortune. And then there’s the extravagant gifts for said family that make up for his absence at Christmas dinner.

This job is draining, but it’s purchased his peace, in a way, so he does what he has to do to make it worth it.

Lately, what he has to do to make it worth it is party until he forgets how much he hates it. 

If he had to recall the names of everyone in his apartment at this moment, he would fail. There’s faces he recognizes, sure, people from work and their friends he’s seen at many other parties. Clark from down the hall, who always manages to have the best coke, is in the corner making friends, and Eddie is around here somewhere peddling his own stash…but between the thumping bass and raucous laughter and the blur of lights, there’s about 25 to 30 other people he doesn’t recognize. When a bottle is thrust into his periphery, he gladly takes a swig, drowning the worry of strangers in his apartment and the stress from the day at work with amber liquor. 

Clark beckons him over to the mirrored coffee table where he’s set up shop, offering a rolled twenty with one hand and clapping Steve’s shoulder in a shallow gesture of friendship.

Fuck it, it’s Friday. 

November, 1996 – You

Dropping one last box at the foot of the doorman’s desk, you sigh and brush cardboard dust from your hands. The two men from the moving company just went upstairs with the last of your large furniture and are set to take off when they return to ground level, having only been paid through 11 AM. So you managed to unload the back of your car and the rest of the boxes from the moving truck into the lobby, promising the doorman – whose name you swear you’ll memorize soon – that it will all be out of the way momentarily. He graciously offered to make sure nobody messed with it in the meantime. 

It’s hard to even wrap your head around the fact that you’re moving into an apartment with a doorman in the heart of the city at all, let alone one within walking distance of your diner waitress job, and close enough to a bus route to the club where you danced. You’ll have to remember to pay your grandma a visit in her new nursing home and thank her for keeping her rent-controlled lease and illegally subletting it to you. Just another thing to add to your overflowing calendar. 

When you make it up to your shiny new apartment on the ninth floor, you say your goodbyes to the movers who are on their way out, sign the appropriate paperwork for them, and drop off your armload of boxes before heading back down. 

It takes quite a few trips on your own, but after another half hour, you exit the elevator in the lobby to see only three boxes remain and heave another sigh of relief. The end is in sight, and by the grace of whichever God is looking out for you, you might even be able to sneak in a nap before work tonight. You bend over to pick up one of the last few boxes of your belongings and suddenly feel the all too familiar prickling heat of someone’s intense stare. Rolling your shoulders, you let go of the cardboard handles and stand to turn and face whoever is continuing to stare.

Behind you, leaning one hip against the front desk, is exactly the kind of man you would expect to live in a building like this. Slightly older than you, but not by much, tall and lean, but the sleeves of his tight white tee shirt show off the perfect sculpt of his bicep. The man is etched in sleep, draped in it like the blankets he surely just crawled out of, the fluffy length of his hair sticking out in every direction, pushed up and out of his face by round wire-framed glasses. He smiles in a way that feels friendly, but has the sly kind of charm behind it that makes you want to shy from it. 

“You know,” he says, grinning wide, “I know I had a hard time waking up today, but something tells me I might still be dreaming, pretty thing like you moving into my building.” 

You want to scoff at his comment, knowing exactly how you must look right now. Sweat drying on your skin, messy bun practically falling out of its hold, sporting a plain black tank top and a pair of your ex’s old basketball shorts rolled at the waist. You manage to hold back the scoff, but do roll your eyes with a soft smile at your new neighbor. “Cute, you use that line often?” 

His sharp jaw ticks, but his smile softens around a friendly laugh as he rubs tiredly at one eye. “Can’t say I do,” then, dropping the hand in favor of offering it to you to shake, “I’m Steve, need a hand with these?” 

Accepting his secondary offer and shaking his hand, you smile in return and introduce yourself, but decline the first. “Thank you, but I’m sure you were headed somewhere. Don’t let me keep you from your plans.” 

“Nonsense.” When he shakes his head, there’s a pinch to his forehead, eyes slamming shut at the motion, but he recovers quickly and hides the pain. This man is clearly fighting a monster hangover, and yet he insists. “I was just going to pick up some coffee. It can wait.” Without waiting for you to agree, he takes the smallest box and stacks it atop another, picking them both up and tacking on, “lead the way.” 

You decide there’s no arguing with him, so you grab the last remaining box and head back to the elevator, punching the 9 button once inside. 

“No way,” he says in disbelief, “ninth floor?” 

“Mhm,” you mumble softly, “9C.” 

Your eyes are drawn to the crinkle around his eyes when he laughs again despite the dark circles below, the two moles just below his cheekbone that dance when he smiles. Damn it, he really is pretty. 

“I’m in 9B, right next door! You’re moving into Ms. Ruth’s old place?” 

There’s practically a lightbulb above your head when you make the connection, and in comical time with it, the elevator dings, signaling your arrival. “Oh, so you’re the Steve Grandma warned me about!”

All color drains from his face. “W-what did she say?” 

Steve follows you down the hall to your front door, and you can’t help but giggle at his change in demeanor. Both of you set the boxes down just inside your front room and you turn to him with a hand on your hip. “Just that you’re too handsome for your own good and a habitual flirt. Both of which I’m finding to be true already.” 

“Oh, well,” not only does his color return, but his cheeks pink noticeably. He gives a small nod that tips his glasses onto the bridge of his nose and sends a tuft of hair curling into his face – he couldn’t have choreographed it better if he tried. With an exaggerated wink, he continues, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.” 

You scoff, “sure, sure,” and lightly push his shoulder out toward the hallway. “Thanks for your help.” 

He strides down the hall back to the elevator and points at his own front door as he passes it. “Anytime…and you know where to find me if you need anything. You know, cup of sugar, little company. Whatever.” 

With a shake of your head and the elevator doors closing around him, you punctuate, “bye, Steve.” 

—

Later the same night, in the dressing room before your shift, you’re practically glowing from the long afternoon nap you allowed yourself in place of unpacking. You did your makeup at home – never really did care to leave your expensive products in the locker room, no matter how much you trust the other girls –  so all you have left to do is get changed. There’s a lounge just outside the locker rooms for the dancers and bar staff. It isn’t much, a cracked and peeling old leather couch, a few folding chairs around a card table, and a kitchenette for snacks and drinks, but it serves its purpose. After changing into your first outfit of the night, a bedazzled fishnet body suit over a metallic hot pink matching set, you practically bounce into the lounge and land gracefully on one end of the couch, heels in hand. 

“Someone’s in a good mood,” comes a sleepy voice from the kitchenette where Eddie Munson, club security, resident dealer, and occasional fill-in DJ, makes his routine evening coffee. 

“Didn’t you hear?” One of the other dancers, Charity – though you’re not sure her real name, stage names only even back here, that’s the rule – asks, draping herself onto the other end of the couch. She pokes at your thigh with the toe of her heel and scrunches her button nose in your direction. “Honey here is fancy now, moved into that luxurious new apartment of hers today.” 

“It’s true,” you boast with a dramatic lean into the couch, lazing, a cat to sunbathe under the fluorescent lights and clutching at pretend pearls, “I am one with the fat cats, now.” 

“The fat cats living off their granny’s handouts, maybe,” Says Felicity, the club manager, through a playful snort as she enters the room. 

You concede, “yeah fine, I could never afford this place if it wasn’t for her subletting it to me, but it’s all a part of my master plan.” 

Eddie settles into one of the folding chairs, propping his feet up on the armrest of the couch beside you. “Master plan? Do go on.” 

“You know,” you swat at the heavy, thick-soled boots before leaning forward to don your shoes and look up at him over your shoulder flirtatiously, “find a rich, hot man who can afford to live in the building and make him fall in love with me.” 

“Solid plan, how’s that working out for you so far?” Charity laughs playfully. 

It’s quiet for a moment as you contemplate the question. You were joking, of course, but when she asked the first thought that came to mind was of your interaction with Steve. It could be nothing, after all Grandma Ruth did warn you that her next door neighbor is a major flirt and for all you know that’s how he interacts with every woman he meets – maybe even every man, you don’t judge. On the other hand, it could be something. You never know.

“Well, actually there was this guy–” 

You’re interrupted by one of the bartenders leaning in the doorway. “Eddie, we’re about to open, need you at the door!” 

On his way out the door, Eddie twists his mess of curls up into a bunch atop his head and as a goodbye, says, “fill me in later, ladies, duty calls.”

—

The next time you see Steve, it’s under wildly different circumstances. For him, anyway. 

You’re still sweaty and worn out after a long morning shift at the diner and the walk home under blazing July sun. Your fifties-style uniform wrinkled and stained with sticky syrup and dried milkshake from the bratty kid who “accidentally” dumped it on you in passing. Your apron is slung over your arm carelessly and you have just let your hair loose from its scrunchie when you entered the building so you have no idea how wild it actually looks. 

Steve, however, is nothing short of stunning when you run into him at the mailboxes. He’s sporting a navy blue suit that fits him so well it must be tailored, still slightly disheveled at the end of his workday but clean cut and endlessly handsome despite it. There’s a dusting of five o’clock shadow along his sharp jaw, and his glasses are perched low on the tip of his nose as he sorts through the small stack of bills before tucking them into the inside pocket of his blazer. When he looks up and meets your eye, he visibly brightens.

“Well hi, neighbor,“ he greets with a warm grin dimpling his cheeks. He leans with one arm above your head against the wall of mailboxes and looks softly down his nose at you. “How’re you settling in?” 

Shifting the strap of your bag up higher onto your shoulder, you try to cover up the stains, once again shying under his attention. You’re more than used to attention from men, used to their intense stares and acute observation, but only when you have prepared for it. When your makeup is done to perfection and you’re fresh and clean as a whistle. Not now. Not smelling of fryer grease and pancakes and the sweat of a hard day’s work, with melted makeup and dried mascara flakes accentuating the bags under your eyes. You finally answer, “alright I guess. I’ve been working a lot lately so there hasn’t been much time for settling, but I’ll get there eventually.” 

He scrutinizes your outfit with a playful sneer. “I can imagine how hard it is, having to commute back to the fifties every time you have a shift.” He reaches out to untuck the collar of your dress that folded itself inward on your walk, smoothing it down with a caress of the thumb. “This suits you, by the way. ‘S cute.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, swatting his arm away with the apron in hand. “It pays the bills and I’m good at it. I wouldn’t have chosen it, otherwise.” 

Without ceremony, you both start walking to the elevator, step in step as if this was routine, as if you’ve been doing together for years. He presses the elevator button and shakes his head as you wait for the doors to open. “Does it, though?”

Swallowing your offense, you give him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?” 

Together you step into the elevators, and Steve holds out an arm to make sure the doors don’t close on you as you pass through. An unnecessary gesture, as the doors don’t close if they detect motion, but it’s appreciated nonetheless. 

“Not that I’m judging, because I am not, I just find it a little hard to believe that you can afford this place as just a waitress. What else have you got up your sleeve?” 

The elevator once again signals your arrival with an overhead ding, and you just shrug as you brush past him toward your door. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

—

Working two jobs to keep up with your discounted rent is tough. You’ve never been ashamed of either job, both of them honest work and both of them something you’re good at and damn proud of, but there’s no denying that it’s tough sometimes. 

The late hours at the club, though not every day, followed by an early wakeup call for the breakfast shift at the diner often called for little to no sleep, trudging into the building well past three AM with only enough time to shower and fall into bed for two hours before the alarm went off again at 5:30. But you made it work. Naps in the middle of the day and strategically planning which days you went into the club, you always made it work. Which means on the off nights you choose not to go into the club, you value your time and the opportunity to go to bed before midnight. 

It’s a rare Saturday night that you choose to stay home a few weeks after your move. Usually Fridays and Saturdays are your biggest tip nights so it’s rare that you skip, but it had been a particularly rough day at the diner and you have to go in even earlier than usual tomorrow to cover the overnight server’s vacation, so you decide it isn’t worth the added stress. You’ll just take a nice relaxing bath, maybe watch a movie on cable, and get to bed early.

Only, ever since Steve got home, there’s been a constant flow of people outside your front door, trailing from the elevator to Steve’s, some knocking, some letting themselves right in with a slam of the front door, most of them shouting. Their voices echoed off the walls and floated through the crack under your door. You wrote it off as a simple get-together and hoped it would die down soon, but to no such luck. The swell of voices and bass heavy music and generic party ambiance only grew louder as the night went on, and here you are. 

It’s two AM, your alarm is supposed to go off in just over an hour, and you’re wide awake, no, kept awake by the thumping of the party music on the other side of your shared wall and the boisterous laughter of Steve’s guests. 

You try not to be annoyed, really. Sure, it’s well past midnight, but it’s also Saturday, and you’re no square. Obviously people can have a good time and enjoy their weekend, but God, it’s so hard to not let the noise get to you, your anger bubbling just under your skin the longer the ruckus keeps you awake. 

Angrily shoving a pillow over your face, clamping it around your ears, you make note to say something to Steve the next time you see him. 

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington/you #stranger things reader insert #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington reader insert

[katyswrites]

don't call me 'baby'

PART 9 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst (so much angst, sorry), unprotected p in v, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), cum play, ddlg dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, kind of a derogatory reference to sex work, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 5.4k

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 9 | forever the name on my lips

“So - Robin knows that this surprise party isn’t actually a surprise, right?” you asked.

Steve laughed over the phone.

“Uh, no - she 100 percent thinks you have no clue.”

You groaned. “I’m terrible at lying to her -”

“You’re not lying - look, you should see how excited she is -”

You rolled your eyes, putting the phone down on your desk and putting him on speaker. 

“You’re an enabler, you know that?”

“I am not -”

“You so are!” you retorted. “Every year, Robin tries to make my birthday a bigger thing than it is - it’s always over-the-top, and never what I ask for. I usually just like, want to go get drinks, or watch my favorite movie at home, but she decides to invite over 40 of our closest friends instead, or pull out some trick to outdo the year before. Did you know that our first year we lived together, she almost burned our place down by putting 18 trick candles on my cake?”

“Your point being?”

You sighed, leaning over the desk closer to the mirror to put on your mascara.

“My point being that you’ve taken a monster, and given her a real budget this time.”

He laughed again, and the sound of it made your heart ache. You took a deep breath, thankful he couldn’t see you right now.

“Look, I think she’s doing this because she loves you - plus, she’s mad that I stole you away for your actual birthday, so this was my bribe.”

You sighed, stepping back to pull on your dress - another new one you had commissioned, thanks to Steve’s credit card.

“I’m going to really have to practice my surprised face,” you said sarcastically. 

You reached for your earrings on the dresser, the ones Steve had bought you for the gala. You didn’t love the idea of walking around with a million dollars on your ears, but it was a special occasion, after all.

“What has she told you you’re allegedly doing?” he asked, voice tinny and slightly muffled through the phone’s speaker.

“Just meeting some friends for dinner - but, she said to dress a little nicer than usual. I can’t believe she thinks I don’t suspect anything.”

“Maybe she does - maybe you’re both putting up a silly charade for no reason, just to spare feelings.”

You nearly scoffed, but stopped yourself - he had no clue how much you were doing that with him already.

It had been nearly a week since you and Steve had returned from your birthday getaway. Since then, you had been spiraling. Every time you thought of him, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. When you were with him, it felt so right - when you were alone, you felt lonelier than you ever had before. You gave it a few days, just to see if the blissful environment of being on vacation was just tricking you into thinking  you had real feelings for Steve. After all, that wasn’t reality… right?

But now, nearly a week later, you nearly felt sick when you thought about him - the sight of him made your heart flutter, every nice gesture and sweet compliment made your stomach flip and your face bloom with heat. You were hopelessly in love - you were so stupid.

Since the trip, you and Steve hadn’t spent much time together. Part of it was him getting slammed with work - a relief, honestly. It had given you time to try and have some rational thought, and sort out your feelings. You getting your period right upon return to Rome also put a dent in things - you hadn’t exactly been feeling up to sex, which Steve had been understanding about. But, this had only made things worse - he still took you out to dinner a few days ago, insisting on still wanting to see you, if you were up for it. Afterwards, you had gone back to his place and just put on a movie, falling asleep on the couch. It was the first time you had ever slept over without having sex - somehow, more intimate than anything you had done up to that point.  In short - you were screwed. 

But, now you had to go to this godforsaken birthday party, with Steve in front of all of your friends, and act like everything was fine. In some ways, it was. But in others… the end of summer was fast approaching. And, the thought of that left a pit in your stomach.

“You still there?” Steve’s voice asked.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, zipping up the back of your dress. “Sorry, I’m just getting ready -”

“What are you wearing?” he asked jokingly.

“Shut up -”

“Right - that’s for later,” he said. You could practically hear him smirking through the phone. You roll your eyes again.

“Well, I’m ready to go, and I’m sure Robin is itching to get me out the door, so - see you in a bit?”

“Yes - except, you don’t know that,” he said.

“Oh of course - well, I’ll be sure to act surprised.”

“I’m sure you’ll kill it - see you, bye,” he said, promptly hanging up.

You didn’t take time to dwell on it, how formal he still could be sometimes - reminding you of exactly who you were to him, you supposed - as Robin started knocking on your door, asking if you were ready to go.

“Just a minute!” you cried. You reached for the dresser for a final thing - the ruby necklace Steve had given you for your birthday. When you opened the bedroom door to an impatient Robin in the doorway, you were clasping it on.

“Jesus - where did you get that?” she asked, gesturing to the jewel on your sternum.

“Birthday gift from Steve.”

Robin crossed her arms, shaking her head.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing, it’s just - how’s that going?”

“Fine,” you lied. “I told you, the vacation was fun -”

“Doesn’t it all just seem - like a bit too much?” she asked cautiously.

“I - what do you mean -”

“Well - the trip, the gifts, being with him for hours on the phone every night - it just feels like he’s more than a - benefactor, sugar daddy, whatever you want to call it -”

You felt your face heat.

“Robin - no - it’s just - it’s an arrangement, and it’s going the way we both said it would -”

Robin just stared at you for a moment, and sighed with defeat. 

“Whatever you say. Just - be careful, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt again -”

“I’m fine,” you said firmly. “I promise.”

A lie.

“C’mon - let’s go out,” you said, quickly changing the subject and heading for the door.

Robin didn’t get the chance to argue further.

*****

You took the bus towards the city center, walking a few blocks before reaching one of your favorite restaurants - you and Robin frequented the bar more than the tables, often going there to celebrate the end of the semester, or to drink your sorrows away after a breakup or shitty week.

“You could have just said we were coming here,” you said, letting Robin take your hand to lead you inside.

Robin just shrugged, and you could tell she was fighting a grin - she really is terrible at keeping secrets. But, you did your best to keep your face neutral.

When you walked inside, the place was dimly lit. You could practically feel Robin’s anticipation behind you, and felt inwardly thankful that she couldn’t see your face. Then, the lights flashed on, and you were bombarded with an uproaring “SURPRISE!”

Even though you were anticipating it, you still jumped - it was far more people than you had been expecting. 

“Holy shit -”

Robin was practically bouncing, grinning. “Happy birthday, babe.”

You shook your head. “I - did you invite like, everyone we know?”

She nodded excitedly. “Mm hm! And the whole place is rented out, so it’s just us - open bar too!”

How much did this cost Steve? you wondered.

“Robin - you really didn’t have to do all this -”

“Oh hush - your boy toy took you away from me on your birthday, so we’re celebrating now.”

You laughed, pulling Robin in for a quick hug.

“Thanks, Robs.”

She was positively beaming, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her that you’ve known about this for two weeks, that Steve had told you when he and Robin had been texting, how he had put his credit card down for the whole thing. So, you just smiled, and squeezed her tighter.

“Well,” she said when she pulled away, “you need a drink - your usual?”

You nodded, watching as she headed over to the bar. Soon enough, it was a whirlwind of friends, classmates, old co-workers, and essentially anyone you would even consider a friendly acquaintance swarming you, giving you a hug and wishing you happy birthday. There was even a DJ, playing all of your favorite music, the tables cleared to the sides to make the space empty enough to fit everyone - you were certain the evening would descend into dancing soon enough. Robin soon enough returned with your drink, and you let yourself actually relax. 

Then, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, and you feel yourself jump. You turn, smiling.

“Hey there, baby,” Steve said, pulling you close.

When did he start calling you that outside of the bedroom?

“Fancy seeing you here,” you joked. He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“What do you think of your party?” he asked.

“I think you’ve been too good to me.”

“Well, this was all Robin - I just helped.”

“If that’s what you’re telling yourself - I - thank you,” you whispered. “You really didn’t have to.”

He waved you off. “Nonsense - I like spoiling you. You look beautiful, by the way,” he added, his fingers coming to brush the pendant hanging from your neck.

The butterflies were back. Fuck.

“Only because you give me such pretty things to wear,” you retorted.

He laughed. “I’ll buy you every pretty thing you want, baby.”

Your heart fluttered, and you looked down into your glass to avoid eye contact. 

Then, a familiar voice was calling your name. You looked up, and smiled.

“Eddie?”

“Bella, look at you!” he said, bounding over and pulling you out of Steve’s grasp and into a tight hug. You laughed, Eddie practically lifting you off of your feet.

“You’re stunning, as always -” he says once he puts you down.

“Oh, shut up - flattery will get you nowhere -”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Can’t blame a man for trying, right?”

He then glanced over your shoulder.

“Steve, right?”

Steve nodded stiffly, forcing a smile.

“You two look gorgeous - want a picture?” Eddie asked, holding up the camera hanging around his neck.

“Oh, sure - Steve?” you asked, turning to silently plead with him.

Then he was back by your side again, arm snaking around your waist and pulling you close.

“Smile!” Eddie said from where he was crouching behind the lens. You did, posing for the photo. The shutter started rapid-fire clicking, and after a moment, you felt Steve’s lips on your cheek, and your face heated. You did your best to ignore it, letting Eddie get a few more shots as you pressed closer into him.

“What a beautiful couple!” Eddie proclaimed, grinning into the viewfinder. 

“Oh - Eddie, we’re -”

“She’s doing the heavy-lifting there!” Steve joked. You froze, unsure how to even address that. But Eddie just chuckled, saying something along the lines of you didn’t need to tell me that! and walking away, making a beeline for the bar.

Before you could say anything to Steve, Robin is running over, taking you by the hands.

“Sorry Steve, can I steal her?” 

He nodded with a smile, letting go of you as Robin pulled you through the crowd, babbling on about how Vickie’s ex had the audacity to show up, and how someone brought their boyfriend uninvited, and a hundred other things you would normally care about.

Steve hadn’t said no when Eddie called you a couple - what the fuck?

But, the next few hours were a whirlwind - you had lost count of how many drinks you had, catching up with friends you hadn’t seen all summer, learning who's dating who, what their plans were for the upcoming semester, asking how you’re doing - you decidedly did not mention that you had spent all summer as the mistress of a man a decade older than you - still, it felt nice to see your friends again, to catch up and try to relax. You ate your fill in the food spread that had been put out, all of your favorite things from the menu, a few extra things that Robin must have requested specially. So many of your friends remarked on how well you looked, how you were glowing, admiring your jewelry and asking where you got it (which, you pointedly lied about). Even Jonathan Byers showed up, the sweet yet introverted guy who you had befriended in one of your art courses. You were chatting with him and Eddie about their upcoming photography portfolios when you saw Steve again, approaching with a new drink for you.

“Oh, hey,” you said, accepting it gratefully.

“Having fun?” Steve asked, casting a glance to your friends.

“Yeah! Uh, Steve, you know Eddie, and this is Jonathan - not sure if you two met yet.”

“Nice to meet you,” Steve said, extending his hand. Jonathan hesitated, then took it, letting Steve shake it firmly.

Then, Steve’s lips pressed to your ear, whispering, “Want to dance?”

You bit your lip, nodding, and bid farewell to the other boys for now. The makeshift dance floor was starting to fill up now, your friends moving along to the music and spilling drinks onto the floor. 

“So, does Eddie know how to button a shirt?” Steve asked sarcastically.

You huffed.

“Don’t tell me you’re still jealous -”

“I - I’m not. He’s just - he’s such a flirt -”

‘He’s a flirt with everyone - he’d shoot his shot with you, if I left you two alone.”

Steve’s face turned red at that. 

“I - uh -”

“Besides,” you whispered, pulling him closer by his shirt collar, admiring the way his chest hair just barely peeked out of the open top button, “I kind of like how easily he gets you riled up.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

You closed your eyes, swaying to the music.

“When was the last time you did something like this?” you asked over the cacophony, gesturing to the club-like atmosphere around you. He laughed.

“I’m not that old - but, probably not since a little after I finished college… when I started working, I didn’t really have the energy for… all of this. And… Nancy never liked it much anyway.”

You felt your heart sink, and shook your head. You were properly tipsy, had the confidence to pull Steve toward you, taking his hands in yours. 

“Then - dance with me like you’re 20 again, yeah?”

“Again, I’m not old -”

“Will you just shut up and dance?” you said, pulling him close. He obliged, letting you bury your face into his neck as you swayed along to the music.

He twirled you, watched on fondly as you found your friends on the dance floor, and laughed as he saw how excited each new song made you. At one point, you caught him looking at you in the corner of your eye - he wore an expression so soft, so sincere, that he was almost unrecognizable.

“What is it?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing - I just -”

“Where’s the birthday girl?” Robin’s voice called from the other end of the room. The music faded, and she came out from behind the bar with a massive cake, lit with what you guessed were probably 21 candles.

“Everyone! 1 - 2 - 3-”

Then everyone was singing you Happy Birthday, pushing you towards the front to where Robin stood, wearing a wide smile. 

“Make a wish,” she whispered.

You sighed, knowing exactly what to wish for, and leaned down to blow out the candles to boisterous applause.

“Chocolate cake with mousse, of course - your favorite,” Robin said, serving you the first slice.

“I’d expect nothing less,” you replied, accepting it gratefully - it’s been the kind of cake you’ve gotten for every birthday for as long as you remembered. Even your parents remembered that each year, to their credit.

“Want a slice?” you asked, turning to Steve.

“Oh - no, I’m okay -”

“At least taste a bite?”

He sighed, smiling in defeat.

“Yeah, okay.”

You took a forkful and held it out to him, feeding it into his mouth. He groaned at the taste, fighting a smile.

“Yeah, okay - that’s delicious -”

“I told you -”

Then Steve reached out, gently wiping away what you presumed was some smeared chocolate from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Did you have a nice birthday party?” he asked softly.

“Yeah - I did. Just - everything for my birthday was wonderful. I - thank you.”

Then he was pulling you close and kissing you, on the lips, in front of everyone. You let your eyes flutter shut and leaned into the kiss, tasting just a bit of chocolate on his lips, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne.

You pulled away, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“What was that for?”

He shrugged.

“I just really wanted to do that - is that okay?”

You nodded, eyes flitting to his lips again as your stomach did a somersault. You were so aware of eyes on you two, some whispers floating through the room despite the loud music, but you pulled him down for another kiss again, lacing your hands around the back of his neck.

“Take me home with you,” you whispered against his lips.

“Now?”

“Now.”

Then he was grabbing your hand, only slowing down as you bid goodbye to Robin, thanking her for the party, and you both practically bolted towards the door.

*****

It was nearly midnight by the time you reached Steve’s place - not that it mattered. You had jumped him nearly the second you got in the car he had called, closing the privacy shield between yourselves and the driver. You technically behaved yourselves - clothes stayed on, at least. But you kissed him like you needed him more than oxygen, all tongue and desperate gasps as you moved to straddle his lap in the backseat. You were grinding on his thigh, palming him through his pants like horny teenagers in their mom’s old Honda. 

You tore out of the car like bats out of Hell when you reached his apartment building, only maintaining self-control in the elevator thanks to the old man who got on with you and rode it most of the way. The moment you tumbled through Steve’s door, you were all over each other, shedding clothes in a trail leading to the bedroom.

“I missed this,” you breathed against his mouth, shedding him of his button-down.

“Me too,” he said, reaching to unzip your dress and let it fall to the floor.

“Steve - I want to thank you - for my birthday party - for everything -”

“Mm, okay - yeah baby, whatever you want -”

It was desperate, messy, and filled with carnal need, Steve tearing your undergarments off as he practically threw you onto the bed. He wasted no time, eating you out like your pussy gave him oxygen, making you cum on his tongue twice before even taking his pants off. You pulled on his hair, crying out his name as he coaxed your orgasms out of you, slowly kissing his way back up your body until his face hovered above yours. He was grinning, his chin glistening with your release, and you could have just stared at that forever.

“Steve, please -” you begged, “I need you -”

“I know, baby,” he said, crawling over you. “I just wanted to take care of you first, it’s okay -”

Then he was kissing you, fumbling with his belt and shedding himself of his boxers, pulling you close.

It had only been a week, but you nearly screamed when he entered you, gasping at the stretch.

“Fuck - you’re always so tight and perfect, baby - I haven’t fucked you since we got back to the city, it was drivin’ me nuts -”

“Me too,” you mewled, clawing at his back as he began to thrust into you. “Steve - please fuck me, please -”

And he did. But, the earlier desperation had faded - he rolled his hips into yours slowly, holding you close as he groaned into your skin. He pressed kisses to your neck, showering you with praises and sweet nothings in your ear. It didn’t feel like primal, needy sex - it almost felt like making love. He was soft, gentle, but knew your body better than anyone by now, touching you in all the right places.

“You’re so beautiful, so perfect -” he murmured, smirking as you moaned at a particularly deep thrust, “my whole life, I’ve been looking for a pussy like yours, baby -”

“I - ah! Fuck, I - I know what you mean. You fuck me like nobody else - daddy, I -”

“I know, baby,” he said, pressing gentle kisses across your face. “Look at you, wearin’ the fuckin’ jewelry I bought you as I fuck you - I love when you do that - you’ve been so good, letting me spoil you all summer - like a good girl, I can’t believe it -”

He was rambling now, and you knew that meant he was close. You wrapped your legs around his torso, digging your heels into his back to pull him in impossibly deeper. Pleasure pulsed through your body, heat gathering in your abdomen, and you started meeting his thrusts with your hips in earnest.

“You close?” he asked. 

“Yes - I’m going to cum all over your cock, sir -”

“Thank god - I’m not going to last much longer -”

“I know - let go,” you said, pulling him down for a messy kiss. He groaned against your lips, his cock twitching a bit inside you.

“I just wanna stay buried in this pussy, baby - forever -”

“I know,” you whispered. “I never want this to end.”

You never wanted any of it to end. 

But you held onto him with desperation, losing yourself in the feel of him, his scent, the sound of his voice -

All that was running through your mind was I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyouIlo-

Then you were coming, convulsing around him with a scream. You arched off of the mattress, burying your face in his shoulder as your orgasm washed over you in waves, ebbing and flowing gently instead of crashing all at once. He followed moments later, hips stuttering as he filled you, your name on his lips like it was a sacred thing.

You both stayed like that for a while - you stared at the ceiling, soothingly running your fingers through his hair as he lazily kissed your neck. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, but eventually he began to soften, forcing him to pull out of you and roll over onto your back by your side. 

You turned your head on the pillow to face him - he was blissed out, smiling as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I think that was our best yet,” he whispered. 

You hummed in agreement - you had felt it the night of your birthday in the villa, too - something had shifted in bed. Yyou couldn’t quite place it. But, you knew it scared the hell out of you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, brushing the backs of his fingers along your arm.

“Mm, yeah - just thinking.”

“About what?” he asked, propping himself on his elbow. “What’s going on in that pretty little mind?”

You could’ve cried from the gentleness in his voice, your heart fluttering a bit as you looked at him - you did your best to memorize his face, the way his hair fell, every freckle and mole along his body - and it hit you that this was ending soon. You didn’t even realize you had started to cry - but, hot tears were rolling down your cheeks, and you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

“Whoa - you okay? What’s going on?” he asked - he sounded terrified.

“It’s nothing - don’t worry about it -” you said, sitting up.

“Baby, you’re crying - of course I’m going to be worried -”

“Why?” you cried, the question coming out harsher than you had intended.

His face flashed with confusion and concern, and he sat up, too.

“What do you mean why?”

“Because - because you’re not supposed to care!”

“I - I don’t understand -”

“Steve! What the fuck are we doing here?”

“We - we were having a nice night, I thought - now I don’t -”

You wiped your tears, groaning with frustration.

“Steve - I don’t know how to be around you. You said this was just for sex, right? All fun, no feelings, all that bullshit? We literally wrote it down -”

His face went more neutral, and he nodded.

“Well, yes - that was the arrangement -”

“So then you don’t get to ask me what’s wrong - you don’t get to ask me how my day was, plan my birthday party with my best friend, call me nearly every night, name a goddamn star after me -”

“Whoa - you don’t like that I did those things?”

“No!” you screamed, frustrated. “I don’t like that you’re being my boyfriend!”

“I - I’m not your boyfriend.”

“Oh, you’ve made that very clear - so you can stop acting like it!”

You didn’t realize how loud your voice had gotten, your breakdown quickly pivoting to unbridled anger and frustration.

“I’m not - so what, you want me to fuck you and just send you home? Like a goddamn prostitute?”

“Well maybe if you had done that in the first place you would’ve saved yourself a whole lot of trouble!” you screamed.

He went silent for a moment, just staring at you. You sighed, pressing your fingers to your temples.

“Steve, look - this summer - I mean, it’s been amazing. I really mean that. But, the summer is ending soon - when do you even go back to the States?”

“September 1st,” he said quietly.

You froze, your heart plummeting. “Jesus Christ, that’s in like two weeks - when were you going to tell me?”

He stared down at his hands, shaking his head.

“I - I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you - I just wanted you to enjoy tonight, and not ruin it, I know it sounds ridiculous, but I figured if I didn’t tell you, it would make it less real -”

“So you were just going to disappear on me?”

“No! No - I -”

He throws his head into his hands.

“Steve - look me in the eyes and tell me this is still just an arrangement for you.”

A moment of silence passes - there it was, your cards laid on the table. Your heart was thudding in your chest, waiting for his answer.

He sighed, and looked over to meet your gaze. 

“Of course it isn’t.”

Your stomach flipped, and you felt like you were going to be sick - oh God -

“Then - what the fuck do we do?”

He shook his head.

“I - I don’t know,” he admitted. “I - I don’t know what the fuck is even going on. I told myself I wouldn’t get… attached, and now -”

You scoffed.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s just - attached? Like a fucking dog you found on the street and have to give back to its owners or something?”

“Well, what would you call it?”

You paused - you considered confessing everything, that you were past the point of falling for him. No, you couldn’t - you needed to keep that close to your chest, not give him the upper hand.

“Steve - maybe we should just end this,” you said, the words feeling like a knife to the chest as they left your mouth.

“What? No - I - I don’t want to -”

“Steve - you said it yourself - if we got any personal feelings, we would stop the whole thing, before it got too far - we’re only delaying the inevitable anyway -”

“Come back with me,” he blurted out.

You stop mid-sentence, eyes widening.

“I - what?”

“Come back to Chicago with me - we can just do it. I can take care of you -”

“Steve - I can’t -”

“Why not?”

You just laughed dryly.

“Because - I have a life here. I have friends, a semester left before I get my degree -”

“You won’t need to work if you -”

“You really don’t get it, do you? I want to finish school, actually achieve something, and do something that matters to me. I know, you look down on me as some downtrodden peasant or something -”

“No, that’s not it -”

“But I’m smart, and when I’m done with school - I may not be rich like you, but I’ll be able to work for a living, and actually support myself. I don’t want to just exist for you -”

“I didn’t mean that,” he said - you were both raising your voices again. “This summer…it’s the happiest I’ve been in a long time. Maybe ever, actually. I just - I want to help you -”

“Well stop! I don’t need you!” you screamed.

He went silent for a moment.

“That’s what Nancy said, too,” he said quietly.

You sighed, your heart breaking for him.

“Steve - I didn’t know -”

“Maybe there’s a reason,” he continued, staring down to avoid your gaze. “I mean - you’re right - I’m meant to be alone.”

“I never said that -”

“You didn’t have to.”

You both sat in silence for a moment, unable to say anything else.

“Steve - I’m sorry that this is where the night went. But… we both knew this was coming. I - I think we’re going to both get hurt if we try to keep it going.”

He nodded, shoulders sagging.

“You’re probably right.”

There it was. The moment you had been dreading. 

The silence was deafening - neither of you daring to look at one another, letting the weight sink in of everything just said. You were certain you were going to be sick. 

“I - I should probably give these back,” you said quietly, gesturing to the earrings and necklace. You reached up to take them off, but he gently placed his hand on yours to stop you.

“No - keep it. Keep everything.”

“Steve -”

“No - nothing that I gave you was a loan. It’s yours. Keep onto the credit card, too.”

“Steve - I can’t do that -”

“Sure you can. Only use it for emergencies, if it makes you feel better to do that. As long as you don’t go over the limit… it’s yours.”

You shook your head.

“I can’t -”

“Please,” he said, eyes pleading. “At least until you’re done with school - focus on your studies, I’ll take care of it.”

“But - I’m not giving you anything in return -”

“Doesn’t matter. I promised to help you with school, and - I’m a man of my word.”

You sighed with defeat.

“I - I think I should go.”

“Probably best,” he said coldly. You couldn’t even blame him for that.

You gathered your things quickly, pulling your dress back on. He rose to follow you to the door, pulling on his boxers as he went. He stood in the doorway as you left, his face stoic - was he angry? Or did he just feel nothing? Maybe the latter - you were in love… and he had grown attached, whatever that meant.

“I guess this is goodbye,” you whispered.

“I suppose so.”

He won’t look at you.

“Steve - you’re going to find someone someday who’s right for you, okay? Someone you’ll actually want to be with. Then you won’t need - you won’t need someone like me. You’ll forget all about this - I know you will.”

Something softened in his face, and he shook his head.

“I somehow doubt that.”

You stared down at the ground.

“I guess this is goodbye,” you murmured.

He nodded.

“I wouldn’t change any of it,” he said quietly.

You could actually feel your heart breaking, crackling and splitting like it was made of porcelain. You still avoided eye contact, afraid you’d cry if you looked at him.

“My car can take you home,” he added.  “I don’t want you taking the bus this late, okay?”

You nodded solemnly. As you turned to leave, he said one more thing that stopped you in your tracks.

“Wait - I just wanted to say -”

He stopped for a moment, running his hand through his hair as he took a deep breath.

“I wish you well.”

That was it - the final nail in the coffin. The end of a failed negotiation, a transaction. You nodded firmly, turning quickly on your heels and walking straight ahead to the elevator, refusing to look back at him.

The moment you slid into the car, you gave the driver your address and closed the privacy shield again. But now, it was so you could sob into your hands, feeling your heart break in half as you pulled away from his apartment for the last time.

author's note: hi everyone - sorry about this chapter. The next part will be the finale - plus, an epilogue. I'll probably just write those together and post them in quick succession. Don't panic - you guys know I don't like writing sad endings (or if I do, I leave massive warnings). So, hang tight - it's going to be okay. Please let me know your thoughts - comments, reblogs, and messages are always appreciated!

#steve harrington #steve harrington/reader smut #steve x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington/you #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington/fem!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #sugardaddy!steve harrington #sugar daddy fic #dcmb fic #steve harrington x reader angst

[jadewritesficshere]

Happy Birthday

Steve Harrington x female!reader

Summary: Steve gets a video from you for his birthday.

Warnings: masturbation (male and female), f masturbation on video, pet name (baby), no use of y/n

18+ only

Steve sighed contentedly as he flopped onto the couch. He propped his feet up on the coffee table in front of him. He surveyed the destruction across his living room and smiled. Balloons were strewn about, streamers falling off the walls, and random cups that had been forgotten. Robin had thrown a surprise party, and though part of him thought he was too old for a party being in his 20s, he couldn't help but feel elated. Cherished even.

He glanced at the pile of gifts he had received. Eddie had gotten him an album, Nancy had given him more clothes in yellow, and Robin had gotten him tickets to a hockey game. You had given him three movies: one was a favorite of his, the other a new release he had wanted to watch, and then a home movie. You had asked him to watch it alone, claiming it was too embarrassing to show everyone and that you had been emotional in it. You made him promise, and Steve tried not to break his promises.

Steve hoped you were emotional because you confessed you liked him. Steve and you had a flirty relationship, but neither of you had "officially" said anything. One drunken make out session kiss was enough to fuel his fantasies for months, a kiss that you didn't seem to remember. Steve wasn't sure if he should bring it up, afraid of rejection. He wondered if you were silent for the same reason, or if you didn't even remember.

However, you could be emotional because one of the times you had your camera, you had found a stray dog. Both you and Robin were bawling about how the dog had been abandoned, leaving him as he wrestled with the dog from hell. Steve cursed that stupid rat dog, he would even curse the breed if he knew it, as it had scratched him relentlessly. Giving the dog a bath was funny in retrospect, but at the time Steve was fuming over this dog soaking both him and Robin and causing Robin to somehow fall into the tub, yanking Steve down with it. Of course, you were recording the whole time. The only good part was hearing your laugh.

Or maybe it was the time everyone had went to the lake. A seagull, which made no sense to Steve as it was the lake and not the sea, had stolen Eddie's sandwich. Eddie had taken off chasing the bird, yelling and cursing the whole way. Steve remembered laughing so hard he was crying, and he remembered the way your face had beamed at him. The way you pushed the hair out of his eyes.

Or it could be the party where everyone had gotten drunk, except for him. Sure, he had done a few keg stands in his days, but he wanted someone to be sober to take care of you. You had been rambling about something before stopping and calling him "pretty". He had blushed and tried to deny it, somehow making you think that he didn't find himself pretty. You had started trying to convince him, getting more sad that he felt bad about himself. Which Steve didn't feel bad about himself, but he wasn't going to complain as you gave him compliment after compliment. You even wrapped your arms around him and cuddled him. You were so warm in his embrace. How he wanted to embrace you in other ways.

Steve snapped the VHS case open and stared at the tape. He was alone now and his mind was going crazy with what ifs. He probably was overthinking it. He popped the VHS in the player and grabbed the remote before sitting back on the couch. He hit the power on and-

Steve's eyes widened and he dropped the remote. He wasn't sure what he was expecting but seeing your chest in red lacy lingerie was not it. The swells of your breasts pushed up slightly. He wanted to kiss and suck at your chest. Red lace contrasting against your skin. Your chest moving up and down as you breathed. Your hand comes into view and gently grasps your breast, squeezing it. Steve wished it was his hand.

Steve inhaled deeply and his hand shook. Holy. Fuck. His jeans were unbearably tight as he watched you slowly remove the bra. Your nipples were hardened-God, how he wanted to lick and tease them. You pinched one and let out a moan. Steve wanted to make you moan like that, but just hearing you? He was harder than he ever had been in his life. You sounded sweeter then anything he could imagine. You sounded like an angel, and he was in Heaven.

Steve unbuttoned his jeans and peeled them down enough for his cock to bob up and hit his navel. He was already leaking. He spit in his hand and wrapped it around his hardened length. He focused back on you and-

Steve moaned. You had moved the camera down to the red lacy panties you were wearing. "See that Baby?" You were out of breath, barely speaking above a whisper as you traced a finger over your clothed pussy. A damp spot was noticeable in the fabric and you sighed as your finger traced over the spot," See how wet I am for you, Baby?"

Steve's eyes closed instinctively before he snapped them open. He didn't want to miss a second of this. Steve's hips bucked into his hand as he stroked up and down his dick. On screen, you removed your panties, and his mouth watered. Steve bit his lip as he got a clear view of your pussy. You were so wet; he wanted to lick every drop. He wanted to taste your arousal. He wanted to hear you scream and writhe against his tongue as you came. He wanted his face covered in your release.

Your fingers on screen played with your clit before circling your weeping hole. One of your fingers easily slid in due to how wet you were. Steve moaned at the site of you adding another finger and pumping in and out. You moaned and ground against your hand. You added another finger and Steve couldn't help but think of how small your hands were and that it wouldn't even prepare you for his dick. As you picked up your pace and started to buck your hips wildly, Steve sped up to be at the same pace as you. He imagined that it was his cock spreading you open. How wet you would be. How warm. How tight. Your mouth dropping open in pleasure, your whimpers under him (or over him he wasn't picky).

"Steve!" You let out a gasp and moaned on screen, fingers getting drenched by your release. "Oh fuck shit fuck," Steve rasped out in between whines as he came all over his hand. His chest was heaving. Brain foggy from pleasure. His hair was stuck to his forehead from sweat. Steve sighed as he grabbed a napkin off the table and cleaned his hand, rubbing at the hem of his shirt that had gotten dirty. He looked back up on the screen to see your smirk. "Call me Stevie, next time you could do this to me yourself." The screen went black as you covered it with your hand. He could faintly hear,"Oh God what did I just do fuck ok this is fine, he'll like it right?" It took Steve all of two seconds to jump up and grab his car keys to head to you. Oh he definitely liked it. Fuck calling you though. The only calling that would be happening tonight was you calling his name.

#Not me having a part two already been started #Listen yall Steve deserves a great birthday first off cause I know his parents never really cared #But secondly that man deserves to be wined dined and fucked #Anyways uh have this #Is this self indulgent? Bro you telling me you don't want Steve to get off to the thought of you 🤨 #Anywho keep an eye out for part 2 i guess uh its gonna be awhile #But I got the start of it but uh I have like 6 other WIPs rn so #Steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you #Steve Harrington x y/n #Steve Harrington x female!reader #Steve Harrington/female!reader #Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington/reader #Steve Harrington/you #Stranger Things fic #Jade is Talking

[collectivecloseness]

6) please don’t go, please. Please don’t leave me with Steve where like the reader is dying and the says 36) no! hey! Don't cry!

Prompts: 6) please don’t go, please. Please don’t leave me & 36) no! Hey! Don’t cry!

(Tw: blood, trauma, basically what you’d expect...)

Steve Harrington x reader

“Y/N!!!! Y/n!!” Steve skidded to your side, already bleeding legs scraping on the ground, as he falls to your body, clutching onto the massive bat bite marks pouring blood into your clothes, that Robin and Eddie are trying to put pressure on while Nancy screams directions into the receiver of the telephone pole several yards away. You’d all escaped the Upside Down, but Steve had had to come out later than the rest of you, on a side mission not too far away.

He swore to you it’d be okay, because he was right behind you. He promised you he’d be alright, because you were worried about him being alone.

Now he’d left you, and you were bleeding.

“Y/n... oh God.” Steve cried, tears streaming down his face as he held onto your wounds Robin and Eddie already had their hands full with, before moving to cup your face. Accidentally layering your beautiful face with your own blood. Steve cried more as he realised, but he just kept stroking you.

“NANCY GET THE AMUBLANCE!” Steve screamed, his vocal cords sounding ripped, but he didn’t care about Eddie wincing, or Robin also crying, he only cared about you.

Like the first time he saw you, Steve only had his eyes on you.

“No... hey. Don’t cry! Why’re you crying...” you gently asked Steve. Reaching up a shaky hand to stroke his face, just like he was doing to yours. Like you always did when Steve cried to you. You’d never seen him cry in public before, why was he crying? You didn’t want that.

Steve sobbed, putting your hand back down, with his own shaking one. He was shocked you could even speak, because looking at you you looked.... you looked dead. You were still moving, your eyes were still open, he’d noticed your chest rising and falling too, but your body looked so pale, nothing like the usual warmth you had in your cheeks, and you were so weak... and by the way you were speaking Steve knew... He sobbed, bringing his forehead down to yours, crying loudly as he pressed against it, feeling your warmth from your skin, because you were always warm.

Steve knew it was bad.

“You’re okay baby.” Steve sniffed, swallowing loudly, like he was desperate for air, kissing against your sweaty hair, before deciding he wanted to see you better, he wanted you to be able to see him... deciding it was best, to take your hands up in his, kissing all over them instead. “You’re okay sweetheart. Just hang on, okay y/n?”

You started shaking, shivering, and Steve wobbled, spit flicking from his lips as he burst small cries again. “You’re okay baby. Help’s coming.” He shuffled closer, trying his best for once in his life, to look serious. To pretend like he had any control. So he could keep you safe. “The ambulance is on its way right now. Be here any minute, you’ve just gotta stay with me okay?”

Steve kissed you. Trying not to think about it being the last time. So he kept kissing you. Over and over. Terrified he was hurting you. And euphoric every time your lips kissed him back. “You can do that, can’t you y/n? Huh? Gonna stay with me just a bit longer? Wanna stay with me forever huh?” Steve kissed you again, pressing his tongue against yours this time and feeling nothing but relief when he felt it warm, and wet, and moving, like it should be. “We were gonna get that picket fence. Remember, tiny little Harrington’s, huh? Promised I’d get you any pet you wanted. I’m gonna stay right here with you, okay?” He shook your hands, gripping them firmly in his.

His face breaking once more.

“Please. Baby.”

You didn’t answer this time. But your face remained the same. Tired, slightly confused, but moving. Almost animated. But moving was enough for Steve. He just wished you’d talk.

Eddie had his head down, pressing agaisnt your wounds, two hands in different places. His bandana under his left hand, and your shirt crumpled to seal wounds shut on the right. But the blood just kept coming. Eddie couldn’t look up. He couldn’t. He didn’t want Steve to see his face.

But Robin couldn’t look away. She kept both her hands pressed on a big wound just below your stomach, her eyes blinking tears away, as she sniffled quietly. Her voice wavering as she looked at her best friend in the whole world, because she knew what was about to happen. “Steve...”

“No!” Steve looked up to Robin. Eyes dangerous but determined. It wavering into devastation, and just pleas, as he looked back down to you. Switching between you both. Because he couldn’t take his eyes off you. “Don’t, Robin!”

He couldn’t handle it. He didn’t need it. And Robin knew that. She quietly sobbed, only letting a couple of small cries out before going silent. Pleading with her body not to shake under pressure just this once, so she could keep leaning down on you.

You looked into Steve’s eyes, one more time. And then, right in front of him, his heart sunk as he watched them dull, your head rolling towards the sky. Still blinking. Still blinking. But not focusing on anyone right now.

“Please don’t go, please. Please don’t leave me.” Steve cried. Clutching onto your shoulders, and taking your cheek, still warm, blood from a cut on your apple still wet, in his left hand as he turned you over to look at him. Your eyes dazed. “Please baby. Please y/n, I love you. I love you! I can��t do this without you, oh God, please y/n don’t leave me. Please stay with me PLEASE!” Steve clutched onto the collar of your shirt, his other hand pounding into the earth, a cry wrecking through his entire frame, as his body shook. Hot eyes rapidly blinking away his tears as he gently cradled your jaw, his fingers stroking your soft hair, as he begged with you. Pressing small kisses to your nose, wet from spit and his tears that were streaming down, as he begged with you, saying small sweet things as he pleaded with you to stay, promised you’d be okay, pledged his whole life to spending it with you.

And then, a glorious sound came, one that Steve didn’t think was real, until Nancy came running over. And he saw how fast she’d been running, the tears pouring down her face.

And Steve knew Nancy would only leave that phone for one thing.

Steve wobbled as he moved down, closer to the dirt, pressing a shaky kiss to your lips. Sobbing when he felt you kissing him back again. When he peered those centimetres up, even with the tears in his eyes, he could see you clearly this close. And your eyes were tracking him, your lips down turned in a frown, fluttering across his soft cheeks as tears stained them, and then back to his eyes, with concern.

Steve rubbed his thumbs under your cheekbones, even though your tears had long since dried, and he smiled at you. Speaking softly, even over the sirens. “You’re gonna be okay baby. Gonna stay here with me, forever. Can stay with me y/n.”

And Steve pressed a finally alright kiss to you. Because when you saw Steve smile, you smiled too.

#Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington angst #Steve Harrington drabble #Steve Harrington #stranger things #anon #ask #Robin Buckley #Eddie Munson #Nancy Wheeler #1.2k #Steve Harrington/reader