#steve harrington fan fiction

[carolmunson]

because you were home.

the first entry of my fall frenzy extravaganza

this request comes in from @sweetsweetjellybean: "i would like to request watching a scary movie with steve and eddie that ends with 2 dicks one hole." summary: mildly inspired by 'the strangers' movie. steddie x reader. you and your two boyfriends watch a scary movie even though you hate them. a scary dream wakes you up to more than you bargained for, but they're happy to make up for it. (aka, carol tries some subtle horror/suspense writing for the first time ever!) cw: 18+, established throuple, dvp (double vaginal penetration), oral (f and m receiving), mmf threesome, pet names: angel, babydoll, sweetheart, etc., reader refers to eddie and steve as daddy/sir once or twice but its not like -- their dynamic -- not a dom/sub scenario (justice for steve being sir for once!), swearing, mild horror elements

“Ooh, shiii-hi-hit. Fuck that.” “What’s happening?” you ask, your voice muffled by Steve’s shoulder where your face had been planted for the last four minutes. “No matter how many scary movies I see, nothing creeps me out like this scene, man,” Eddie shakes his head, another handful of popcorn crunching into his mouth.  “What. Is. Happening?” you ask again, frustrated at your own inability to just look – but you didn’t wanna miss out on the scare-factor.

“Nothing, baby,” Steve chuckles, warm and sweet. His big hand gives your bicep a comforting squeeze, running his palm slowly over the skin before he pulls you closer, “One of the weirdos is just standing there, nothing’s happening.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say nothing’s happening – it’s one of the most quietly suspenseful and unsettling scenes in modern horror,” Eddie argues while your head pops up. As soon as your eyes meet his, shining from the light of the TV in the living room, he grins – the one he always does when he’s about to be an asshole.

“Let me rewind it for you,” his smirk lingers when he reaches for the remote, “You can’t miss it – it’s like, niche horror iconography.”

“C’mon Ed, you know she doesn’t like it,” Steve’s defense almost feels patronizing, sinking in your chest even while his arm tightens around you, “She never wants to do movie night when it’s scary.” 

“C’mon Ed, you know she doesn’t like it,” Steve’s defense almost feels patronizing, sinking in your chest even while his arm tightens around you, “She never wants to do movie night when it’s scary.” “No, it’s fine – I’ll just, I’ll watch it,” you sigh, eyes reaching the ceiling with a faux annoyed huff, “For the iconography.” “Atta girl,” Eddie rewinds while you climb over Steve to get between them. If the room hadn’t been so dark, you’d see Ed’s flush while you make yourself comfortable. Always a sucker for affection, he leans in close, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Bein’ so brave.” He starts the scene over again, a few minutes before, both of them scooching in next to you. You’re used to the heat now, the warmth of them near you, tied up between them. At first it was hard to balance it – who touches where, who holds what – but having them both became a waltz you danced well. The both of them easily knowing the rhythms of you and each other in healthy and decadent symbiosis.  “Will you just – stay on the phone with me?” Liv Tyler’s voice booms through Steve’s surround sound, the dial tone humming loudly afterwards, “James? … James?” You let a breath out through your nose, watching her walk through the house on the screen, settling on lighting a cigarette before walking into the kitchen. She stands there for a moment before the screen cuts to a wide, you already feel sick. There’s no music, no sound, just Liv in the kitchen with darkness back behind her. With no warning, he appears, the man in the mask, in complete silence. 

Your stomach drops, throat feeling tight when you watch him stand there watching her. You hardly feel soothed when he disappears, knowing it can only get worse from here. The killers are in the house. 

Steve and Eddie see your face, the way your brows pull in, the way you shrink in on yourself. “Poor baby,” Steve soothes rubbing his hand on your back, “C’mere, I’ll protect you.” “You couldn’t outsmart these guys,” Eddie’s matter-of-fact tone makes Steve tense up, “Sorry. They’re in it for the thrill, man. They don’t care about your macho shit.” “That’s not reassuring,” you laugh, snuggling into Steve while Eddie lets his hand smooth over your thigh, “I need you both to protect me.” “Of course,” Eddie smiles, “We’d both keep you safe, for sure.” “For sure,” Steve nods, kissing the top of your head. Your hand creeps forward to lace your fingers with Eddie’s, still resting on your leg while the movie continues. 

“James?” Liv says again on screen, heading to the drawer for a kitchen knife when a bang is heard somewhere off screen. You can’t help it, your face buries itself in Steve’s shoulder when the action picks up, doing your best to be brave and failing miserably. It’s not for nothing, your failure – they both have a great time laughing at you. 

You’re pouty when the movie is over,  the kisses aren’t helping for the first time in a while. There’s a general unease in your stomach – some horror was fine, but horror that could happen just didn’t compartmentalize as well. Your stomach sinks more when you see Eddie put his jacket on. “You’re not staying over with us?” you ask. Eddie’s shoulders sink while he shrugs on the leather, “Sorry baby, I have an early shift tomorrow. Gotta sleep at mine to be close to the garage. Why, you scared?” You nod, “Is that stupid?” “No,” he grins, “But you have Steve, he can protect you, too.” “You literally said he couldn’t outsmart them,” you try to laugh but it sounds more like a desperate plea, heart rate rising. “It’s a movie, honey,” Steve’s balmy voice soothing you while he comes back in the living room from cleaning up, “Just relax.” “You want the number one tension goblin to relax?” Eddie scoffs, “Good luck with that.” A kiss to both of your cheeks is Eddie’s last parting gift to you and Steve before he goes, the rev of his motorcycle being the only signal that he’s gone for the night. Steve’ burly tan arm wraps around your shoulder to lead you both back to the couch. “How about this,” he starts, pulling your legs over his lap, “We can watch something funny and then go to bed, s’that sound good for you?” You nod eagerly, shoulders loosening up while he flicks through the channel listings. “They have Austin Powers on TBS, you wanna watch that? It looks like they’re playing all of ‘em,” his amber eyes fall on you with a smile, rubbing your shin up to your knee. He changes the channel when you give him the okay, watching you snuggle in on the couch with tired eyes. It’s not long into the first movie that Steve’s nudging you to wake up so you can both go upstairs to bed. 

You wake from a dream that makes your heart race in the bad way, losing the plot completely when your eyes open. The room is dark, only some light from Steve’s security cameras outside leaving shadows against the wall from the curtains.You turn and reach your arm out to shake Steve awake but you’re met with nothing but empty sheets, cooled down from the lack of a body there to warm them. You pout while your heart pounds, taking a few deep breaths to try to steady yourself to go back to sleep. He’s probably in the bathroom – but that thought makes you have to pee. With a sigh you get up, gingerly getting out of bed and scanning the room. Even though you fell asleep laughing to Mike Meyers the uneasy feeling in your chest never quite shook away. You pad down the hall to the bathroom, confused when you see that it’s empty. Maybe he went to get a drink or something in the kitchen. You do your business, leaving the bathroom and listening for Steve downstairs from the top of the staircase, peering down into the dark living room. It’s quiet. “Steve?” you call out. 

Nothing. 

The blue black of the dark house stares back at you, you swallow thickly. The pin pricks of fear that you woke up with creep down your neck and the top of your back, they sting up from the balls of your feet. You try to muster up the courage to call out again. “St-steve? You there?” you call out, your voice weak. 

Nothing. 

You take another breath, shakier than before. Maybe he’s using the half bath down stairs. You shake your head, rolling your shoulders and taking a step away from the staircase to go back to bed. Two steps in and your body is jolted by the blast of the stereo in the living room, the lights from the machine whirring on while music blares through the speakers. ‘My first lover, My first lover, He was tall and breezy with his long hair down. But it gets a little hazy when I think of it now…’

You run down the stairs to shut it off, certain the neighbors heard it, Your heart hammers in your chest, blood pounding in your ears while you slam the buttons and hold your hands to the cool machinery. You feel sick, bile creeping up your throat while you breathe in and out again.

“STEVE?!” you shout out, tears welling in your eyes, “Steve! This – this isn’t funny…”

But again.

With the music off.

Nothing. 

You grab a heavy trophy from one of the shelves, a nationals first place from when Steve won the freestyle stroke in college – no one’s ever beat his PR. You inch through the living room, clicking on a lamp so the room illuminates in a hazy yellow glow. You grip the trophy, base upwards with the points of it at your eye level, arm at the ready. You creep slowly through the kitchen, clicking on the light over the oven, peering into the living room again and over your shoulder. No one. Nothing. You walk forward into the dining room, turning on the light, peering out from the sliding doors to the back yard. Nothing. You take a final breath. It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s just a movie. 

Right?

CLANG!  

You jump, attention toward the door to the garage in the back of the dining room. You raise the trophy again, mustering up the courage to go to the door. Through the small crack in the bottom you see the lights are on, you swallow again. With a final breath through the nose you clutch the door handle, wrenching it open – ready to swing. 

“Woah there, champ,” Steve laughs, looking up from the side of his truck. He pulls off his over ear headphones and cocks his head, “Is that my swim trophy?” “Uh, yeah…” you respond sheepishly, lowering it down to your thigh. Your heart starts to steady, cheeks burning with embarrassed heat while he comes around from behind his truck. “Did I wake you up, honey? I’m sorry,” he says softly, wiping his hands off on a rag. He’s in his sleep shirt but back in his jeans, sneakers unlaced on his feet.

“No I –” you falter, feeling stupid and silly, “I had a bad dream and you weren’t there so like – I don’t know. Then the stereo turned on downstairs and I heard a bang so – why’re you in the garage?”  “I forgot about my break pads – they’re swamped at the shop so I told Ed not to worry and I’d just do it myself,” he shrugs with a laugh, “Little harder than it looks but – can’t put her back on the road until she’s all set. Woke up in a cold sweat about it.” 

“You um, didn’t hear me calling you?” you ask warily. “Had my headphones on, baby, my bad.” “And the stereo?” you urge, “It was like…really fucking loud.” “That was probably me by accident,” he assures, taking a tiny remote out of his back pocket, “I got the remote for the speakers in here too, so, must’ve sat on it. Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to.” “Just a lil’,” your shoulders droop, heat pricking your cheeks and chest. “Aw, I’m sorry,” he coos, coming toward you to put a sloppy kiss on your cheek, “I’m almost done, I’ll be back upstairs in a minute. Would you get me some water?” “Okay,” you chirp, taking a big breath before heading back into the house. You pad through the dining room and back into the kitchen, reaching over the sink to grab a glass from the cabinet. You let the cool water run over your fingers for a moment, chuckling at yourself for being so stupid while you place the trophy on the counter with a thud. 

You fill the glass for yourself first, letting the chill of the water bring you back to center. You take a few sips, leaning against the counter and looking through the archways to the other rooms – sleepy looking with their warm low lights on. You always forget how cozy Steve’s house looks, especially in the fall. You snort, hearing Steve’s soft ‘Shit! Come on!’ from the garage after something else clangs to the ground. You down the rest of the water and turn again to refill it for Steve, humming the song from the stereo. You shut off the water when you feel like someone is watching you, unease brewing in your chest again. You turn around quickly, but no one is there, just the sound of Steve working in the background. Back to the sink you finish filling up the glass, looking up at the window above the counter. Your reflection looks back. You drop the glass, hitting the stainless steel with a shattering fall. Behind you, in the dark of the dining room, is exactly what you’d feared you’d see. Standing there. Idle. Watching you. A man in a mask.  You freeze, sharp breaths puffing out of your nose, heart rattling in your chest. You shut your eyes tight and count to three, opening them again only to let out a blood curdling shriek at the reflection – he’s still there, just closer. You grab the trophy and turn around with abandon while Steve bursts in through the side door. “What’s happening, what’s going on?!” he asks, running in. “There’s – there’s there’s, there’s someone in the – in the house – in the house!” You gasp out in stuttering breaths, tears pouring down your face. “Who?! Whose in the house?!” he asks, brows raised, frazzled. “A man!” you screech, “The man! The man in the mask!” “Fuck, fuck,” Steve huffs, rifling into the drawer for a kitchen knife, “Stay here – stay right here and call the police.” You watch him walk toward the living room, “Steve don’t! Don’t! We have to g-get out!” “Baby – just call. The. Pol–” 

“My first lover, My first lover, He was always talking tryin to bring me down, But I was not waiting for a white wedding gown...”

The music blares again, so loud it’s disorienting. You scream, eyes blurry with tears while you walk backward to the corner of the kitchen by the fridge where a house phone sits on the wall. Shaking you reach for it, watching as it clatters clumsily to the floor. “Are you calling?!” Steve asks, fear lacing his own voice while he slams the stereo off, “What the fuck is happening?!” “I’m c-calling!” you yell back, seeing him come back into the kitchen with his chest heaving. You reach down for the phone only to realize, to your horror, that the cord is cut, “I – baby I…” “Shit,” Steve huffs, “M-my phone, where’s my cell?” “Upstairs I – oh my fucking god,” you freeze, eyes big and glassy when you see him, the man in the mask. “Wh-what?” Steve asks, slowly turning around, “Oh fuck, fuck. L-look man, hey – I – I don’t want any trouble.” The man stands there, masked head tilting when he takes a step forward. “D-do you want money? Something? My car? Anything man – I swear.” The slow step becomes a full steam ahead, another screech pouring out of you while you see his gloved hand reach for Steve. You cover your head in your hands, shaking, wondering how you can make it from here to the garage unscathed – you brace for Steve’s broken scream. 

But instead. A laugh. Two. Two laughs. Two very familiar laughs. “Why would I want your car when you can’t even fix the fuckin’ break pads?” Eddie’s muffled voice echos from behind the mask. He pulls it off, taking a breath, “Fuck, that things hot.” “I fixed them just fine,” Steve hisses in faux annoyance. “H-huh?” you look up with tear streaked cheeks, “Wh-what is this?” “Oh honey, we didn’t mean to scare you that bad,” Steve coos. “It’s just me, babydoll,” Eddie smiles, voice gentle, “It’s me.” “What the fuck?” you ask, still against the wall by the fridge with your heart hammering. “S’just a prank honey, we were just fucking with you,” Eddie says softly, taking a step toward you that makes you flinch, “Hey…you okay?” “No Ed, I’m not fucking okay,” you bark, “What is wrong with you? With both of you?” “We didn’t think you were gonna get so freaked out, angel,” Steve sighs, “I’m sorry. We’re sorry.” 

“Are you mad?” Eddie pouts, putting the mask on the counter. “Yeah,” you nod, standing up, “I’m fucking mad. And I’m sure the neighbors are gonna call the fucking cops from all the screaming and yelling.” “Babe, hey, c’mon it was a joke,” Steve’s shoulder slump when you brush past him, “Let’s just get cozy upstairs, okay? We can all go to bed.” “Fuck you,” you huff, stomping up the stairs, “Both of you.” 

They follow you like puppies up the stairs, closing in on you when you make it back into the bedroom. Soft apologies and kisses to your cheeks, surrounded by them – their hands, their hair, their scent. Slipping around you like snakes, but sweet – anything to hypnotize you out of how mad you are. “Don’t be so pouty,” Steve coos, peeling off his shirt, “You’re okay, we won’t do it again.” “We’ll never do it again, I promise,” Eddie mumbles into a kiss by your ear, already down to his boxers, “We’re awful, we’re so awful.” Your knitted brows and sour pout stick while they do their best to get you to break, but it’s not until Eddie’s lips catch on that spot just below the hinge of your jaw that you let out a soft gasp. “There she is,” Eddie smirks into the next flick of his tongue and graze of his teeth, teasing the spot until your face relaxes. “C’mon,” Steve whispers, tugging your t-shirt over your head, “Let us make it all better, hm?”

“Lay down, sweetheart,” Eddie encourages while you get to the edge of the mattress. The comforter was still in the mess you left it in when you woke up from your dream. Despite your anger you do as he asks, not protesting while he slips your shorts and panties off without a second of hesitation.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he smirks, “Just how you like it.”

Your thighs part for him on their own accord, barely waiting a second before his mouth makes contact with your already slick center. You whimper and Eddie smiles into your cunt, slurping around your clit to get you stimulated quickly. Can’t be mad if you can’t think straight.

“Mmm, Ed like that,” you whine out, hips rolling up against his mouth.

“Already so wet for us, sweet thing,” he brags in a low voice, “Maybe you like bein’ scared.”

“No I – uhn…mmm…” 

Eddie’s first two fingers slip in with little resistance, coaxing soft needy moans out of you with each pump, each soft tease of his tongue. He lets out a dreamy sigh while your legs pull up to your chest, revealing more of yourself to him. He busies his mouth while looking over the expanse of your body, watching Steve lean in to kiss you. Your hand entwines in Eddie’s hair, scratching at his scalp softly while he wraps his arms around your thighs. He could eat you all night. “I know you’re not kneeling closer to me so I’ll suck you off,” you stare up at Steve in disbelief. “I uh…well,” Steve bites his lip, redness building on his cheeks. He looks down at you, kneeling by your face on the mattress with his cock in his hand, stroking slowly. His chain glints in the low light from the sconces above the bed, catching in his chestnut hair – too handsome, it was unfair. “You want me to suck your dick after all that? You think you deserve it?” you ask, eyes rolling when Eddie’s fingers curl up against you – letting out a sinful moan.

“Well when your mouth hangs open like that,” Steve chuckles coolly. He leans down again to capture you in a kiss, stroking himself while he does. He nuzzles your nose when he breaks away, “You wanna sit on my face?”  Your breath catches, nodding eagerly. “M’kinda in the middle of something,” Eddie says from between your thighs. “Well you can be in the middle of somethin’ else, Munson,” Steve grins while you change positions to him lying on his back. Your legs straddle over him, ass in his face while you look down the rest of his body. Steve pulls you down firmly, tongue gliding between your folds in a slow back and forth at first, pushing his face in it. You yelp when he flicks his tongue over your swollen, sensitive clit; thighs twitching while he finds his rhythm.  “Hmm, you’re close, aren’t you?” Steve teases while pulling away for air.

“Y-yes sir,” you sigh back, hips bouncing gently against his mouth for more friction.

Eddie pulls his boxers off, tossing them on the floor and reaching for a forgotten scrunchy on Steve’s dresser to pull his hair back. He crawls back onto the bed, giving you a soft kiss, “You look so pretty right now.”

“Thank you,” you whisper against his full pink lips, kissing him back. You lean down with him, watching as he kisses Steve’s stomach, right by his happy trail, taking his cock in his ringed hand. A glob of spit falls from his mouth, working Steve’s shaft with a precision only another person with one could have. 

Steve groans into your pussy, louder when Eddie takes the tip in his mouth. Your mouth waters against your better judgment, body betraying you when you lean forward onto your hands to meet Eddie at Steve’s cock. You kiss again, both tongues flicking together over Steve’s swollen head making him whimper between your legs. You both let your lips graze his length, leaving wet kisses in their wake before Eddie takes over again. You gather his curls so you can watch him, the visual sending you right over the edge when he starts to touch himself in time.

“Good girl,” Steve coos softly, evidence of your orgasm on his chin while you shimmy off his face.

Eddie comes back up with a breathy smile, hazily letting them direct you while Steve pushes up to sit against the pillows propped up on the head board.

“Think you should get filled up, pretty girl,” Steve says softly, “You wanna?” 

You nod, straddling Steve, letting his hands skate over the tops of your thighs while you let yourself sink down onto him. His head thuds back against the headboard, eyes closing when your walls snuggly fit around him – warm and wet.

“Think you can do both?” he asks, pulling you in so you’re chest to chest. 

Your brow quirks, “We do that all the time.” “No, no, baby,” Eddie smirks, coming up behind you, “Both of us in the same place.” Your head turns around, looking down at Eddie’s length in his hand, thinking about how thick Steve is inside you already while he thrusts up lazily. “S’not gonna fit,” you hesitate. Eddie kisses your shoulder, “I think we can fit, just keep bouncin’ on Steve for me.” “You like to watch?” you wink while looking back at him, finding a cadence that makes the fat of your ass shake.

“You know I do,” he replies, voice low and gravely – it hits the pit of your stomach. Steve signals Eddie to come forward, crawling up over one of his thighs. “You can do it, babe,” Steve encourages, holding you in place, “You’re already soaked.” 

You feel him push in, one hand on your lower back while the other guides his length to aid in pressing over Steve. You let out a low groan, sweat beading at your hairline while your eyes nearly cross from the stretch. Your brows pinch together, mouth hanging open in that desperate way that makes Steve primal with need. “Ooh, does that feel good, baby? Does it feel good?” he asks, voices light and sing-songy. “Y-yeah, oh – oh fuck -” you huff when Eddie does a slow practice thrust, to see where you’re both at. Eddie moans once he finds the pace, unforgiving fingers clutching you for balance. Steve chuckles at your face, forefinger and thumb reaching under your chin to press into your cheeks. “F-fuck I’m so…I’m so, sssooo…” “Sssoooo full. That’s right, so full, aren’t you honey?” he grins, mocking you now with a little shake to your face, “Look at you. You like that? You like gettin’ filled up like this?”  “Yeah,” you whine while Eddie starts a steady pace, both men grunting at the pleasure of you tightening around them. The slide of themselves against each other makes Steve’s breath hitch when his hips cant upward in time. 

“Shit, Ed,” Steve grunts, fingertips sinking into your hips. He huffs a laugh, shaking his head while he presses a wet kiss to your neck, “Fuck.” “Yeah? S’my dick nice, pretty boy?” Ed winks down, hand entwining in your hair at the root while the other cruelly grips you at the waist. You’ll feel that grip tomorrow, both of them – party favors for the pleasure you’re feeling now. Steve nips at your neck, listening to your panting, your whines – at this rate you look like you don’t even know your own name. You start to falter, leaning down into him while your arms give out, face finding home in the crook of his neck and the dying scent of his cologne. “Hey, you still mad at me?” Eddie asks breathily. Your scalp screams in a delicious sting when he pulls you up by your hair, back arching deep to make you face him. You struggle against it at first, tilting your head down to look at Steve whose tongue has flicked out to tease one of your nipples. “Look at daddy, honey,” he chastises in a low heated tone, teeth grazing the hardened bud, “Look up at daddy.” Eddie’s laugh is low, bubbling from his tummy when you finally relent, leaning your neck back to look at him. Even upside down he’s pretty – hair falling mostly out of the scrunchy he stole, leaving messy curls wild around his face. “You still mad at me, babydoll?” he grunts out, “You still mad?” His free hand reaches around to cup your jaw, leaning in to give you a hungry kiss. He growls into it, pumping deeper in short thrusts. A choked moan pours out of you when they move in tandem, Steve sliding out while Eddie slides in. “Aw, you don’t look mad,” he taunts. Another kiss before his face hovers over yours, grinning, pleased with himself, “You look so gone, holy shit.”

“M’n-not m-mad anymore, daddy,” you nearly cry, voice tight, “Fuck – harder.” “Harder?” his brow quirks, “You hear that Steve? She wants it harder.” “Yeah, I heard her,” he grunts, “Give her back to me.” Eddie lets go of your hair without a thought, dropping you into Steve’s chest like a rag doll. He props you up above him, his big hand around your jaw this time while Eddie keeps both his tight on your waist for leverage. With as much strength as you can muster you hold yourself up on your forearms, limply bouncing forward with each thrust. “You want it harder, pretty girl?” Steve asks, looking up at you – his own eyes are blown, completely flushed from double the pleasure. “Pl-please,” you huff, “Please, sir.” “Hmm, you know I like when you say that,” he grins, “Ask again.” “Please fuck me harder, sir,” your eyes roll when you feel Eddie’s chest against your back, both of them closing in on you. “So good,” Steve breathes, “That’s a good girl.” You feel the tickle of Eddie’s curls on your shoulder while he leans over you to get to Steve, wrapping a hand in his auburn hair to pull him up for a deep kiss. You listen to them, watching while their eyes flutter closed, pace picking up inside you while their tongues fight each other for dominance – ending in heated smiles, always a draw. Nose to nose they watch each other, your face to the side on Steve’s chest. 

“Spread her open for me, Harrington,” Eddie mumbles against his lips, leaning in for another greedy kiss before making the move to push up off your back. Steve pulls him back down eagerly, bicep flexing while he holds Eddie by the back of the head for another searing kiss, “Spread her open, huh? Like you do for me?” “Shut up,” Ed flushes, biting his lower lip while he looks down at him before pressing his lips to your cheek and pushing up. He holds you in place with one hand on the dip between your neck and shoulder, the other grazing down to your upper back. Steve hands slide down to your ass, gripping hard to spread you open from the bottom. With a little more space, Eddie’s pace quickens, your breaths punching in scattered rhythm when Steve plants his feet on the mattress to fuck up into you. “Ohmygod, oh my god fuck,” you cry out, “I c-can’t I’m gonna…oh fuck, I’m so – I’m so close don’...don’stop please.” “That’s it angel,” Steve encourages, “You’re doin’ so good.” “So good, baby,” Eddie adds on gruffly, “Really t-takin’ it.” Steve let’s go of one ass cheek to cup your face, thumb tracing over the supple skin in welcome gentleness. You lean down in a tired slump, lips marrying his – the mint of his mouthwash still on his tongue when it slides into your mouth. He groans through it, hips stuttering – adding more rigid stimulation against his cock while they both thrust deep inside you. You nearly go dumb when they both hit the same spot, clamping down over both of them while you see white. Tears well in your eyes while they fuck you through it, babbling like you’re possessed when the pleasure teeters on becoming too much past your orgasm. “Sh-shit oh, angel that’s it – fuck that pussy’s so..mmm -fuck,” he grunts, pressing his hips up against you while you feel him spill inside. 

“Oh god,” Eddie whimpers out, the warmth from Steve’s release coating over his cock, making it slicker. Steve eases out, kissing you passionately while you suddenly feel empty without them both stretching you to the brim. “Get on your back for me, sweetheart,” Eddie instructs, soft and needy, “Wanna see you.” They gently get you on your back, back to soft kisses and touches like before. Eddie can tell you’re already two deep, not wanting to get you past the point of feeling good – and you’re close. “Can you take some more?” he asks, running his knuckles over your cheek, “It’s okay if you can’t.” “I can do it,” you rasp out, chuckling a little, “I’m very brave.” Eddie laughs, caging you in under him with Steve pressed to your side, “So brave, babydoll.” “I’ll go slow,” he nuzzles into your neck, bangs brushing against your ear, “M’still sorry.”

The three of you lay there under the sheets, collecting your breaths on the come down. Steve’s fingers are laced with yours while he lays on his stomach, Eddie’s hand rests on your waist while he lays on his side. “I have to pee,” you frown into the quiet. “Go pee,” Steve murmurs, half asleep into the pillow. “I can’t.” “Why?” Steve’s eyes open. “I’m too scared,” you whine, “I don’t wanna go by myself in the dark.” Steve lets out a famous Harrington sigh, “Do you need me to come with you?” “And do what? Yell at me to call the police if something bad happens?” Eddie giggles, stretching out on the bed, “She’s got a point Harrington.” “Eddie’s right, they’d outsmart you so fast,” you shrug, “Will you both come with me?” “Yeah,” they huff in unison, shuffling out of the covers and lazily finding their bottoms on the floor. They lead you down the hallway, feeling much better with both of them flanking your sides. And it helps of course, that they turned all the lights on. 

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

#steddie x reader #steddie x reader smut #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x you smut #steve harrington x you #stranger things au #stranger things fan fic #eddie munson fan fiction #steve harrington fan fiction

[abibliophobiaa]

right where you left me;

summary:

steve harrington is unlucky when it comes to matters of the heart. for years he’s been in love with his best friend, but circumstances have made it impossible for him to make his feelings known. fate seems to have other plans, when you ask him to help you escape your wedding day, with nothing but his hand to hold and a car to drive off in. you suddenly find yourself headed back to hawkins, back to the place that feels so unfamiliar now — back to the place where you first fell in love.

warnings:

18+, for use of alcohol, smut, and my blog rules in general.

steve harrington x f!reader || best friends to lovers, mutual pining, second chance romance with the town handyman who lives in a cabin in the woods. inspired by this edit by @somnambulic-thing

——

|| playlist || moodboard ||

chapters (3/3):

one: ticket to anywhere

two: can i be close to you?

three: you can hear it in the silence

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut

[astermath]

second chance ₓₒ⋆:

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve decides to ask out the girl who he keeps seeing around hawkins with her nose in a book. he’s a little surprised when he gets brutally rejected, only to find out his “king steve” era is haunting him more than he expected. he attempts to make it up to you and show you he’s changed, even if it takes him a couple of tries.

word count: 4.8K (oops)

warnings: cursing, no use of y/n, bullying, regular size font below!

notes: first time writing for steve YES I HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE WITH HIM! YES IT IS THE FAULT OF ALL THE GOOD FIC WRITERS ON HERE! and thus,, I had to participate,, I hope I got his character down, I might write more for him so let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content!

tagging some writers who have absolutely inspired me to write this with their own incredible fics, be sure to check them out <3 @hungharrington @sunshinesteviee @ghostlyfleur @lilacletter​ @stevenose​ 

As a teenager, you’d grown to hate Hawkins. It was a mundane, small town with boring people, not much to do, not to mention the weird supernatural rumors you’d hear about every other week. 

But nothing was worse than your high school, Hawkins High. There was a strong social hierarchy, with you firmly placed at the bottom. You were a class A nerd, getting good grades, and always reading to distract yourself from your lack of a social life. So naturally, you got picked on a lot. At first it was just some girls in your class, laughing at your big glasses and the way you dressed. But as you got older, you’d caught the eye of so called “king Steve” and his goons.

You’d heard plenty about him by junior year; how rich his parents were, how he was the best at sports, how every girl practically dropped to their knees when he entered a room. He’d started noticing you when his friend Carol pointed you out, sitting alone on a bench outside school, waiting for your dad to pick you up. His finger had pushed your book down so he could look at your face, and you were soon met with his all too cocky grin. 

“Watcha readin’, four eyes?” The ego was nearly dripping off his words, making your stomach turn.

“None of your business.” you pulled your book away, keeping a finger between the pages you were on. “Doubt it’s near your reading level anyways, Harrington.” You may have been nerdy, but you were no pushover. If they wanted to be condescending, then you’d play their game right back at them.

“That’s no way to treat your king, is it?” Tommy chimed in, like a parrot on his shoulder. You were sure that guy would be nowhere without his friend’s reputation, considering he had the personality of a wet sock.

“My king?” You repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t you just leave me alone?” You tried putting your book away, but Carol had snatched it from your hands just before you could reach your bag.

“Oooh, is this your diary or somethin’?” she flipped it open, shit eating grin plastered over her face as she ran her nail over your name written on the opening page. 

“Do you mind? Give it back!” you’d reached out to grab it from her, but she’d already tossed it back to Steve, who was now holding it high above his head. 

“Come and get it sweetheart,” He smirked. “Might have to get real close for it though.” Tommy laughed like a hyena at his taunting, and you swore you would have punted him if they didn’t outnumber you. 

You scowled, ready to just grab your bag and make a swing for it. “Over my dead body, Steve.” You spat his name, and he grinned at your response. 

“Ahh, shouldn’t have said that.” He dropped the book down into the muddy puddle in front of you, stepping on it to make matters worse. 

You watched, mouth slightly agape as tears welled up in your eyes. Carol cackled while you stood frozen, clutching your bag as you watched the pages soak up the filthy water under his foot. You had every reason not to like Steve, he was like every movie’s description of a high school bully. But he’d destroyed something personal of yours. So now you had every reason to hate Steve.

And the bullying never stopped there. He’d laugh when Carol put her gum in your hair, when Tommy would bump into you extra hard in the hallway, when you’d turn around every time you saw him.

So when graduation came, you couldn’t be happier to get out of there and go to college.

Except your dad got fired from his job. And so, after just a year of college, you’d abandoned your dream of majoring in English literature and returned to the sad, miserable old town you grew up in. 

So you’d taken on a job in your local bookstore, hoping to make enough money to rent an apartment anywhere else soon. You spent the rest of your time reading and writing, usually outside to get some inspiration. You weren’t surprised to see a lot of familiar faces, though you’d never actually spoken to most of them. College was expensive, and a lot of people from Hawkins were just going straight into working than bothering to study. Or maybe some were in the same unfortunate position as you, tragically locked to your hometown.

You were sat outside the backside of the mall, listening to people’s conversations around you. Though you were never much of a socialite, you were very interested in the way people interacted with one another, especially if they were from completely different backgrounds than you.

Two books sat besides you, knees brought up close to your chest as your papers leaned against your legs. You messily wrote down strings of sentences and words of inspiration, a description of what you were seeing too, every now and then. You were an aspiring writer, hoping your literary skills would one day break you out of your current situation, but with the current state of the world, that’s all you could really be. Hopeful.

You were daydreaming about the life you’d build for yourself, finger running over the tip of your pen. You were so involved in your own train of thoughts, you almost hadn’t noticed the sudden new presence besides you. 

“Watcha writin’, pretty girl?” 

The voice sounded familiar. A little too familiar for your liking, actually. You kept your eyes on the page, hoping you conveying your disinterest was working in driving the guy away. You sighed, clicking the pen a few times. “Do you really care, or do you just wanna bother me?”

You could hear a faint chuckle, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t sound nice. Still, you were working, and you preferred not to be disturbed when you were.

“You got me there,” the guy spoke, and you could tell he’d moved a little closer, because you could now smell a sliver of his cologne. “Was never one for books, but I’ve been wanting to read more. What is this, Pride and Prejudice?” He picked up one of the books, and you turned, about to take it from when your eyes landed on his face, freezing midway when you finally realized why he sounded so familiar.

Steve motherfucking Harrington.

Same cocky smile, same brown eyes, same somehow always perfectly styled hair, and probably same asshole altogether.

You squinted slightly, not sure if you were hallucinating or not. “... Steve Harrington?” You question, and you could tell he doesn’t quite know how to react at first.

Truth be told, Steve had changed. A lot. All the things he’d gone through, the connections he’d made, the ego checks he got, it made him a new man. Or so he definitely liked to believe. But he was also painfully aware of his reputation, his old persona still haunting him sometimes. Still, he’d never seen you before, so he hoped it was a relatively positive image you had of him.

“I guess my reputation precedes me,” he smiled, and you think it’s the first time you’d ever seen him genuinely smile. Not the smile he gave you when his friends were teasing you, no, this one was much softer. “Or maybe... We’ve met before?”

And then it clicked.

Steve had no clue who you were.

Sure, you’d developed a better sense of style over the years. You no longer needed braces, you had grown into your body better, and your glasses fit your face a lot more. But you didn’t think you changed that much. Besides, your personality had remained the same. You were still the sharp tongued, book loving, nerdy girl he’d bullied back then.

It was true, he didn’t recognize you. He was almost certain you were new in town, telling his best friend Robin that if he knew you, he’d definitely recognize a face that pretty. She had no clue who he was talking about, this mysterious girl he’d seen reading and writing all over Hawkins, so she just told him to make a move. So he did.

“So uh,” He leaned his arm over the backside of the bench, facing you. “I was wondering if you’d maybe like to go out sometime. Y’know, catch a movie, go to the arcade, whatever you’d like to do for fun, uh...” he flipped the book open on the first page, reading your name aloud. And then it clicked for him too. You weren’t new here, and you most certainly knew him. He looked back up at you, already getting ready to apologize when you snatched the book from his hands and got up. 

“Go fuck yourself, ‘king Steve’.” You scowled, shoving your stuff in your bag and angrily walking off.

He had to admit, that stung, hearing you use his old nickname like that, and then watching you storm off. He was starting to realize that there were more consequences to his high school endeavors than he’d initially imagined, that he couldn’t just move on and pretend that he was a new person now. He had to make things right. Starting with you, the pretty girl with the glasses. 

“And-- and then, wait for it-- I look into the book, right?” Steve stands behind the counter of Family Video, hands motioning vividly as he tells his friend about what had happened the day before.

Robin nods, mumbling some kind of “uhuh” as she continues to organize the shelves.

“And it’s her! It’s four eyes!” He exclaims, looking expectantly at his colleague, hoping for a big reaction.

“I’m sorry, who?” Robin’s face contorts in confusion, turning to face him with a hand on her hip.

“Shit, uh, she was like always reading and stuff, and she had these-- these glasses, they were way too big for her face, and--”

His sentence was cut short by the jingle of the door opening, and the two of them looked to see you there, who was clearly not expecting a welcome committee. Your gaze crossed Steve’s, and for a moment he felt like you were about to kill him with just your stare. You rolled your eyes, scoffing audibly and started looking through the shelves.

Robin looked at Steve, mouthing a “is that her”, to which he nodded stealthily. She replied by smiling approvingly, as if she now understood exactly why he wanted to make things right. You were really pretty, she could definitely see that.

You damn near slammed down the tape you wanted to rent for the day on the counter, avoiding eye contact as you looked through your bag for your wallet.

“Are you already registered at Family Video or—“

“No.” You cut him off, head snapping up.

“Alright,” Steve nodded, slightly intimidated. “I’ll just need your name and phone number for the registry.”

You stared at him for a few moments, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Did he really think you were that stupid?

“Are you fucking—“ You looked over at his colleague. “Is he fucking with me?”

Robin shook her head slowly, slightly intimidated. Though she could see why he had to work his way up to talking to you, she had to admit, it was quite funny seeing Steve actually struggle talking to a girl like this.

“We need it in case you don’t return the tape.” He gave you a thin lipped, awkward smile as he got the keyboard out to type it in.

“Fine,” You huffed, “but if I get a personal call from you, I’m changing numbers.” You started to list your phone number and complete your registration. You just wanted to watch the Breakfast Club for christ’s sakes, this was taking ages…

“That’ll be 10 dollars,” he put on a sweet, almost customer service-y smile, “please.”

“Yeah, fine, just—“ You rummaged through your bag, brows furrowing when you still couldn’t manage to find your wallet. You were certain you had it, although you did grab your stuff in a bit of a rush that morning. “I swear it’s here, it’s just under all this other stuff…”

You were about to dump the contents of your bag onto the counter when Steve held up his hand, pulling out his own wallet. “It’s fine, I got it.” He deposited 10 dollars of his own into the cash register, sliding the tape back over to you along with a receipt. “Courtesy of Steve Harrington.”

You looked down at the tape, and something in you wanted to smile. You were still getting used to this, guys doing nice things for you because you were pretty, but it was different from Steve. You were mad at him, and rightfully so. Te, measly dollars wasn’t going to cut it.

You muttered a “thanks”, stuffing the tape in your bag and waving Robin a quick goodbye before speed walking back outside. Your cheeks burned hot, and you hated to admit it, but it was a really cute gesture from Steve.

“She seems nice.” Robin said, watching Steve’s expression falter with a bit of an amused grin.

Steve leaned his face into his hands, watching you leave through the window. “The nicest.” He sighed, lowering his head to rub his hands over his face. “I’m gonna have to give that another try though.”

Robin chuckled, going back to the task at hand. “Good luck with that, casa nova.”

And so he did. He kept trying. It wasn’t just because he wanted to prove something to himself, he was genuinely intrigued by you. Even back in high school, he wondered what was going on in that head of yours when you’d daydream in class, or when you were writing during breaks. But he knew he’d never hear the end of it from Tommy if he talked to you, so he chose the easy way out. Coping by making fun of you. At least that way, he never had to prove to anyone if he liked you or not.

But it wasn’t fair, not towards you, of course. He never should have treated you that way, and this was his chance of making things right. And maybe finally finding out what was always happening in that pretty mind of yours.

You were stacking books on the shelves at your job, humming a tune to yourself. You liked your job, you always got to buy books at discounted prices and read whenever it was quiet. It was a nice step-up to what would hopefully become a real writing job one day, having your own books sold in a place like this.

“Excuse me,” a voice stirred you from your daydreaming, “I’m looking for something new to read.”

You turned, and as soon as you once again caught sight of Steve, your customer service smile faded into a scowl. “You stalking me now, Harrington?”

He put up his hands in a defensive position. “Woah, jump to conclusions much?” He chuckled nervously. “No, I uh... Robin told me you worked here. So I decided to drop by.” He followed closely behind you as you walked to the back to start stacking the shelves there.

“So what are you really doing here, besides bothering me?” You turned, a book clutched to your chest. It reminded him of how you used to walk the halls, always with a book held over your heart. It was almost poetic, now that he thought about it. He knew books were your comfort, so it only made sense you’d always keep one near.

“Like I told you,” he leaned against one of the shelves, hand slipping down just a tad which almost made him lose composure, “I’m looking for somethin’ new to read.”

You raised an eyebrow, and you had to admit, he had your attention. “You?” You scoffed, followed by an almost mocking chuckle. “Shit, I didn’t even know you could read.”

He pretended to be hurt, hand over his heart as he said your name in an offended tone. “I’m wounded! I’m trying to explore more literature and here I am getting judged!” 

You couldn’t help but giggle, blood rushing to your cheeks from embarrassment. You were supposed to be mad, not humor his flirting, no matter how cute he was. “I uh... Well, I read this book not too long ago. It’s about two lovers who travel the world playing the music together, and one of them dies, so the other has to like, find their own sound...” You realized you were rambling a little, wide eyes looking up at him. “Or... Something like that.”

“Yeah! Yeah, that-- that sounds great. Cool. Totally.” He tried his best to brush off how your eyes were making him feel. So pretty, even when behind your glasses, he could tell how much emotion they held.

“Cool, cool,” now you were the one trying to play it cool, fingers fidgeting with the hardcover you were holding. “I’ll, uhm-- go check our stock really quick.” 

He let you do your thing as he looked around the store, flipping through the pages of random books he found. Truth be told, Steve hadn’t read a single book ever since he stopped being forced to because of high school. Not because he hated reading, he just... Wasn’t very good at it. He’d often mouth along with the words, sentence by sentence, sometimes even whispering them to himself.

You returned not long after, strangely enough, with nothing in hand. “So, I think we ran out, but uh...” You adjusted your glasses. “I can lend you my copy.” You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling nervously. “If you want.”

Steve was quite surprised by your proposal. He knew how precious your books were to you, but giving one to him? The guy who’d stomped on your own personal property not even that long ago? Damn. Maybe you were just that nice. Which made him feel even worse for treating you like shit.

“Totally! Yeah, uhm, I’ll take good care of it. Like, seriously, I’ll protect it with my life.” He grinned, and you hated how infectious his smile was. 

“Good,” you handed him your copy, and he could tell it was well loved. “I better not find any mud on this one.” He nodded at your comment, swallowing down his guilt at the memory. There was a bookmark at the front, and he could tell by the dozens of sticky tabs sticking out that you were serious about your reading. So he decided to be serious about it too.

“You can give it back whenever you’re done.” You smiled awkwardly, subtly letting him know he could read it at his own pace. “Just come drop it off when you’re ready.” He was about to thank you, when you raised a finger to interrupt him. “In the exact same condition, Harrington.” Though your gesture was sweet, he could tell you still weren’t fully on good terms with him. That was fine by him, he was glad he was making any progress at all, really. 

“Yeah-- yeah, for sure, no problem.” He stood there for a few seconds, book held under his arm as his other hand busied itself running through his hair. “I’ll uh... I’ll see you around.”

You smiled at how nervous he seemed. “Yeah, totally, see you around Steve.” You gave him a quick wave and went back to stocking the shelves.

Steve heart swelled with a familiar feeling as he walked out. He knew you were pretty, gorgeous even, but seeing you smile, and say his name like that... Man, he felt like an even bigger idiot for being such a douche to you back in the day. You were being so nice, and you had absolutely no reason to. He stood outside, thinking of your sweet voice and cute glasses, and clutched the book to his chest.

Huh. That did actually feel kinda nice.

And so he walked home like that, the entire way, with a tight hold on the book. He’d rather die than let it get damaged now.

One of the first things he did when he got home was go to his room, sit down on his bed and open the book. On the first page, you had your name written, and it brought him right back to when he first saw you again. Something inside him feels superficial and shallow for only talking to you now that you look different, but all the circumstances were different too. You’d both grown, matured, he just wished you’d give him more of a chance to show it.

But in a way, he supposed this was the first step to earning your trust.

He’d spent almost the entire night reading, smiling and even chuckling at some of your annotations. He was glad there was a key at the start, so he knew which color meant what. He’d even grabbed a dictionary from downstairs because he didn’t understand some words, but was eager to learn more. Reading your comments made it feel like you were right there with him. They were funny, making him crack a grin at how outraged you could be at some of the characters’ decisions.

He imagined your face when one of your comments mentioned you’d cried, and his heart twisted at the thought. Because he knew what you looked like when you cried, thick tears running over soft cheeks, lashes wet. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t still look pretty, but man, he was now more insistent on proving he’d changed than ever. Maybe his budding crush was helping that a little too.

A little more than a week later, he’d returned to the store you worked to return the book. Frankly speaking you weren’t sure if was actually going to bring it back, let alone in the exact same condition you’d given it to him in.

“So, what did you think?” Your face beamed a sort of excitement you’d only see when your interests were being discussed, and this was definitely one of them. Besides your boss, you never really had anyone to talk to about books. Though Steve was more of an unconventional choice, you enjoyed the conversation nonetheless.

What surprised you even more was that he’d actually read it. Like really, really read it, including your annotations and comments. It warmed your heart to know he had put actual time and effort into enjoying the whole thing, and he looked pretty cute talking about it too.

“But the ending broke my heart, seriously—“

“I know, right? How could she not have forgiven him for not leaving behind the music sheets? It was clearly to help her move on!”

“Ugh, I know! Man, you get it.” He laughed softly, fingers running through his chocolate colored hair.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” You laughed along, the noise in your throat slowly dying out as you got a bit too caught up in the sight of him. Steve Harrington was a handsome young man, that was common knowledge. There was a reason all those girls were always swooning over him, and you hated to admit that you could see where they were coming from. But you didn’t like the overly cocky, flirty side of him you knew in high school. You like this side, the soft, considerate, attentive Steve you’d been getting to know a little better.

Yeah, you were growing fond of him. 

Which is exactly why you’d said yes to hanging out with him at the park the day after. Just “hanging out”, in his own words. He’d been careful not to make the same mistake he did the first time he talked to you, rather easing you into spending time with him one on one. He’d hate to break your trust now that you were finally able to look at him with something other than anger in your eyes.

It was already quite late when the two of you met up. You’d been busy with work, and him with helping out Dustin, so once the two you arrived at the park, it was already dark. You didn’t mind, though. Less chance of other people bothering you. 

You settled on a more secluded area, Steve had even been nice enough to bring a blanket to sit on. You were initially just going to discuss the contents of the latest book he’d borrowed from you, but you had a feeling something else was left to be said.

And he was well aware of this too.

So when you were staring up at the sky, moonlight illuminating your features in a way he’d only seen described in the books he had read, he figured he couldn’t keep talking to you without clearing the air. You deserved that much.

“You know,” he cleared his throat, “I thought about what happened a lot.”

You bring your gaze over to him, tilting your head slightly. “My my, whatever could you mean?” You said, teasingly so. He knew you wanted him to just say it. And who was he to deny you of a justified apology.

He took a deep breath, fingers running through his locks. It had become almost a nervous tic to him.

“I’m really sorry about everything I did.” He said, in the most genuine tone he could muster. “Seriously, I-- I’m just kind of... ashamed, really.” 

You could tell he was struggling to look at you, and you wondered how much thought he’d given this already.

“You never really realize how stupid and insignificant high school shit seems until you get out in the real world, you know? Like-- none of it matters, none of that popularity, shit, and-- and I wish I’d just realized that sooner because now--” He caught sight of your eyes and for a second, completely lost his train of thoughts. He realized he wasn’t getting to the point, suddenly understanding Robin’s need to nervously ramble entirely.

“Point is, I’m really, really sorry for the way I treated you.” His hand inched closer to yours, itching to grab it to emphasize his point. “I’ve changed a lot, and I hope that’s become at least slightly believable.” He smiled nervously, all kinds of possible responses you could give running through his mind.

They all came to a halt when he saw you smile.

That sweet, kind smile he’d seen back in high school and avoided because of how it made him feel.

The same smile that was currently reducing him to a nervous teenage boy with a crush.

“It’s okay, Steve.” You spoke softly, and the words came as a mercy to his overbearing thoughts. Your hand moved over his, and you ran a thumb over his knuckles. His hand was soft, warm, and a little clammy from what you could only assume to be the nerves.

“I’m not gonna make you beg for my forgiveness, don’t worry.” You chuckled, and his heart damn near melted at the sound. He secretly wished they could bottle whatever feeling your laugh gave him, so he could keep it with him in times of need.

“Really?” He tilted his head, brown locks falling in different ways around his face. “Because, like-- I’ll do it. Wait--” He got up on his knees and reached besides the blanket, plucking a stray flower from the grass and kneeling in front of you. He cleared his throat in an exaggerated way, before addressing you with your name. “My dearest, will you please forgive me for being a top shelf douchebag to you before?” 

You couldn’t contain your laugh, feeling your face heat up at the sight of him kneeling in front of you. “Steeeeve!” You exclaimed, hands coming up to cover your face. “Okay, okay, I forgive you!”

He chuckled along with you, reaching out and gently tucking the flower behind your ear. “Alright, well--” he sat down again, now significantly closer than before, turned towards you. “would you perhaps do me the honor of going out with you then?”

You bit your lip, pretending to think about your answer as he looked at you in anticipation. Instead of answering, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his plush lips. It was better than you’d imagined, his hand finding its way on your cheek as he melted into it. He made a soft, almost pleading noise, once you pulled away, and you swore he’d never looked prettier. 

“Sure, I’ll go out with you.” You brushed a lock of hair out of his face. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

He grinned. “I’d hope so, after a kiss like that.”

“Shut up.” You muttered, before connecting your lips again.

He would have done so either way. Because you’d officially rendered Steve Harrington speechless. And painfully in love. 

#aster writes stranger things #stevemath #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #king!steve x reader #steve stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fan fic #steve harrington fic #steven harrington writing #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fan fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n

[munsonluhvr]

where might an enemies to lovers but reader only really pretends to hate him because she thinks he hates her and she can’t stand that because he’s so kind and nice with everyone else but her and then one day after him just being so mean to her whether it was joking or not she just breaks request get me

A SERIES OF MISUNDERSTANDINGS

thank u for this request, I hope u like it! it's such a cute concept bc I can actually see a scenario like this happening w Steve in real life. also, once again, I used a movie to influence the one-shot.. this week it's a scene from twilight where Bella and Edward are in biology class hahaha. shout out to everyone who gets it.

synopsis: king!steve harrington x fem!reader - sfw. after seeing steve be kind and nice to everyone except you, you crack and confront him. word count - warnings: bullying (?), kinda rude, stereotypical king steve. light cursing.

There he is. So sweet, so kind to everyone but you. You watch from across the hall as Steve greets his friends with a slap on the back, offering a friendly smile. The girls of Hawkins High provide flirty smiles, small handwaves in Steve’s direction as they pass by; giggles falling out of their perfectly glossed lips when he returns the pleasantries. It makes you sick to watch; you roll your eyes in response to the scene playing out in front of you. 

You turn, swiftly unlocking your locker to switch your textbooks out for your next class. Laughter behind you causes you to turn and looking over your shoulder, watching as Steve leans against a row of lockers, telling a story animatedly. Just then, Steve glances over in your direction, his eyes connecting with yours. A passive looks brushes across Steve’s face, his eyebrows furrowing as he makes eye contact with you, the corners of his mouth turning downwards.  The group standing all around Steve towards you, their eyes following Steve’s. They look equally displeased, wondering why Steve is looking at you and not them. 

You turn quickly towards your locker, slipping your biology textbook out and shutting the door of your locker shut. As you walk away, towards your classroom, you hear snickers following you, Steve’s voice low and critical. You clutch your textbook to your chest, wondering what you did to Steve to hate you. 

It was only recently that you began taking note of Steve’s behavior towards you. It was very simple and clear – he was nice to everyone else but you. You racked your brain, attempting to figure out why Steve would be holding a grudge towards you, you two didn’t typically interact on a regular basis, so the reason why remains unknown. 

You trudge forward, heading towards your next class. You sigh to yourself, thinking how Steve is also in this class and you will be forced to face him once again today. You make your way down the busy hallway, dodging past people who are in a hurry to get to their next period. In only a few minutes, you make it to your classroom, greeted by a low murmur from the students that already are seated. You take a seat in the backrow at the lab tables that serve as your desk. 

You bend forward in your seat, keeping your head down. This is your last period of school, the relief of being able to go home on the horizon. All you have to do is make it through Biology. Unfortunately, life has other plans for you today. 

Chatter begins to pick up suddenly and you assume it’s either your teacher or Steve. You peek through your lashes in the direction of the classroom entrance – it’s Steve. After lingering for a few seconds with other classmates, he sits himself on the other side of them room, but not without one last glance in your direction. Your eyes flick down as his eyes take you in briefly, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. 

“All right class,” Mr. Lewis, your biology teacher, says. He shrugs his jacket off, folding it neatly over the back of his chair.  “We’ll be doing pair work today. I’ve already made the pairs, if you all want to come up and see who you’re working with.” 

Stools squeak against the floor as your classmates scramble to Mr. Lewis desk to see who their partners with. You don’t move, you know who ever you’re paired up with will find you. In the front of the classroom, you hear people giggle with excitement that they’ve being paired up with their friend. You sit patiently, head bent over your biology textbook, waiting for your partner to come join you. 

You hear a cough, someone clearing their throat, right beside you and you look up, the feeling of dread filling your stomach as you make eye contact with Steve. “We’re partners, I guess.”

You say nothing, turning back to your textbook, breaking eye contact with Steve. Steve sits beside you awkwardly, silence setting in between you uncomfortably. Tension makes you feel like Steve is a million miles away even though he’s right beside you. Your head begins to ache, wishing the hour-long class would end quickly. 

Once everyone is settled in their seats, with their new partners, Mr. Lewis begins to describe the task at hand – looking at different cells through the microscope and organizing them into categories. Already you’re bored to death. 

Steve sighs, reaching out to pull the microspore that sits at the end of the table between both of you. “Let’s just get this over with,” Steve mumbles under his breath. 

You look at Steve, pushing down the emotion to yell out and ask him what you ever did that made him hate you so much. You clench your jaw, feeling the muscles tense together. Not having a shy bone in your body, you pull the microscope in front of you, taking the slides that Mr. Lewis passed out to each table, and placing one under the lens. “I’ll just do it since you’re always late to this class and probably don’t even know what a cell is supposed to look like under a microscope.” 

Steve gapes at you, your abruptness sudden. “I-I know what a cell looks like, y/n.” Your heart flutters to your dismay; you hate to admit it, but the sound of Steve saying your name is heavenly. 

You scoff, pinching your eye to look into the microscope. “Uh huh.” 

“Whatever, this assignment is bullshit anyway.” Steve says, running a hand through his hair. Steve leans onto the desk, his eyes wandering around the classroom, looking at how everyone else is progressing through the assignment happily. Steve attempts to stay preoccupied, distracting himself from the way his heart beats rapidly as he sits next to you. 

Silently, you work by yourself to organize the cells correctly, ensuring that you get it right. Steve, on the other hand, sits beside you silently, his eyes trained away from you. 

You look up, distracted, as Heather, one of your classmates and Steve’s biggest fan, turns in her seat. “Steve?” she says, her eyelashes fluttering. “Did you finish already? Wow, you’re so smart.” You can’t help but roll your eyes, Heather’s attempt at flirting with Steve failing miserably – at least to you. Steve leans forward, a large grin on his face as he drinks up Heather’s compliments; disregarding the fact that you sit beside him, doing all the work by yourself. 

You listen as Steve flirts obnoxiously with Heather, and you start to really see how different Steve treats you compared to everyone else. He’s so friendly with everyone, yet so dismissive of you. You sigh, louder then you expected to, and Steve glances at you but says nothing. 

In the front of the class, Mr. Lewis claps, signaling that the pair work is over. One by one, he goes through the correct order of the slides, and you’re pleased to find out that you did it all correct. Class continues, uneventful at most, and you notice how tense Steve is sitting beside you, his long legs confined to the narrow stool he sits on, his body leaning away from you. You frown, attempting to pay attention to class. 

Once class ends thirty minutes later, Steve is quick to slide off the stool, sauntering over to the other side of the classroom where he originally chose to sat – far away from you. By the time you pack your backpack up again, waiting so that Steve is the first to leave. Steve lingers around after class, conversing with some of the boys in the class. Though, Steve eventually stands off, beginning to walk out of the classroom and down the hallway. 

You’re close behind, not wanting to be in Steve’s line of eyesight. You walk out after Steve and watch as he turns left out of the door, you turning right to go back to your locker. However, you pause, contemplating your next move. 

It’s become unbearable to try and dodge Steve every day of school, being tense within every class you share with him. Truthfully, you’ve racked your brain on numerous occasions to understand why Steve doesn’t like you, why he treats you poorly compared to everyone else in Hawkins High. He even treats Jonathan Byers better who now dates Steve’s ex-girlfriend, Nancy. So, what issues does Steve have with you? 

Quickly, you turn on your heel, beginning to trail Steve in the hallway. Your fists clench as you quicken your pace to reach Steve. “Steve!” you call, gathering strange looks from others passing by in the hallway. Steve looks over his shoulder, his eyes widening when he sees that you are who called his name. 

“What?” Steve says as he watches you approach him, wedging himself against the row of lockers that line the wall to allow other people to pass by. 

“What do you mean, what, you have to explain to me what I’ve done to you to make you hate me,” you say with a huff. 

Steve frowns, his mouth pouting a little. “What are you talking about?” He says, bending towards you, his voice low. “I definitely don’t hate you.” 

You scoff, crossing your arms across your chest. “Oh, please, Steve. You constantly give me dirty looks, dismiss me while you flirt and be nice with other girls. I don’t understand, I’ve thought back to all the times we’ve talked, which aren’t that many by the way, and I don’t remember where I could have made you mad.” Your voice raises with each word you say, your cheeks beginning to fluster with heat. “Just tell me, Steve.”

Steve looks away from you, noticing that people pause to look at you and he standing, essentially bickering. Steve sighs, grabbing your forearm, his long fingers warm against your skin. “Come with me.” 

You reluctantly follow Steve, watching as he pushes a darkened classroom door open, dragging you inside. “I don’t hate you.” He mumbles, his eyes connecting with yours. They’re big and brown, twinkling against the dim lights. 

“So, then what’s the problem?” 

Steve leans against the desk at the front of the classroom, his head shaking as he looks towards the floor. “I like you, okay?” 

You frown, suddenly at a loss for words. He likes you? Who likes someone and treats them terribly? “You like me?” 

Steve nods, not looking at you still. “don’t you remember I tried to hand you a flyer to my party, and you ignored me? I just assumed you thought I was an asshole and I guess I started acting like one.” 

You think back, remembering the instance Steve references. You had been walking out of biology class a few weeks before, and Steve had been handing out bright orange flyers to one of his famous parties. Sure, he had tried handing you a flyer as you passed by, but you weren’t into parties, and you didn’t think he was specifically trying to invite you to one of his parties. You two didn’t really know each other so that assumption made sense. 

“Funny way to show that you like me, Steve. I didn’t think-“ you begin to say, beginning to get discouraged. “I didn’t think you were inviting me to the party, I thought you were just handing them out. You didn’t have to act like an asshole, we could have just talked.” 

Steve sighs again, running a hand through his now messy hair. “I know, I’m an idiot. I guess it was a misunderstanding and I read it wrong – it’s my fault.” 

Silence falls between you and Steve, his apology lingering in the air. You think about this, how boys are just so stupid sometimes. Though you can’t help but smile, Steve’s affection making you blush. Now that you understand Steve’s mindset and why he’s treated you in such a way, you have to acknowledge that you find Steve attractive, his boyish looks making your heart flutter. 

“So, you like me, huh?” 

Steve nods, his cheeks beginning to flush with a tint of pink. “Yeah. A lot, actually.” You smile, biting at your own lips. What a revelation this is. You’re glad you followed Steve. 

Though you’re sure Steve is about to ask you out, you decide to beat him to it, knocking his ego down a few pegs. “Then you should definitely take me out. Preferably this weekend.”

Steve nods, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “How does picking you up at 7 sound?” 

You nod, folding your hands in front of you. “That’s perfect.”

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington fan fiction

[keeksandgigz]

pouty girl

steve harrington x fem!reader

This is self- gratifying, but enjoy a sweet, comforting fluffy Steve

word count: 620

18+ minors don't interact pls

"Mmm, pouty girl. C'mere" he murmurs against the soft skin of your shoulder, followed by a kiss.

He pulls you in closer, moving your from the edge of the bed to the center. Scooting your back closer to his chest with a short grunt. The ghost of a breath lingering, warm and comforting on your neck.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong, sweets?" he whispers, as if he doesn't want anyone to hear that his girl is sad. As if the house was populated with tiny little demons, itching to put their hands on your brain.

Itching to poison and pollute the garden of your mind.

You just hum, a noise imitating the sonic patterns of an I don't know.

Never a girl of many words when you got into these moods, and Steve knew better than to force it out of you.

He just settles for the sound of your breath, rising and falling out of your chest. Every once in a while, a bigger breath, jagged and labored. The strength to breathe in feels too much, lungs and back burning with strain, as you defeatedly let that breath out.

"Head doesn't feel straight" you whisper into his arm, and Stve swears you hold on to it a bit tighter, to ground you. To make you feel stable.

He coos, his little wounded bird. "Yeah? What's not straight about it, baby?" he asks, soft and delicate, kid gloves for your mind.

"Mmm dunno. Too many thoughts, I guess" you shrug, you feel tired, body slumped against the soft cotton of the mattress. Your brain feels restless, running a million miles per hour.

One thought more offuscated than the other, wanting to close your eyes and silence the ongoing buzz. You weren't sad, or angry. You just felt weird.

"Thoughts?" a theatric gasp escapes your boyfriend, as he places a sweet kiss on the hinge of your jaw.

"What's a pretty girl like you got to think about?" voice coated with honey, you giggle at the way his hair is tickling your neck as he peppers kisses on your cheek. You take a breath after his onslaught of affection.

"Dunno. Life? Work?" you blurt out, but you're not even sure if you believe it.

"Mmkay" he says, hand sneaking past your shirt to cradle at your tummy. "Need me to make it better, sweets?" he places a soft kiss to your temple. No mischievous lilt in his speech, he just wants to help you.

An affirmative hum escapes you, as you nuzzle into his arm, wanting to bury yourself deeper into his essence. Wanting, no, craving, to be a part of him.

"Spanks or hugs?" he offers. He has two methods to get you out of this weird head mood you get in. He either spanks it out of you, or he just lets you rest for the remainder of the night.

Letting his body weight on yours, like a blanket. Cooking for you, running you a bath. Letting yourself be taken care of for the rest of the night.

You hum, considering your options, but you already know what you want.

"Hugs, please?" you softly let out, as Steve holds you closer, caressing your tummy.

"Of course, sweets. Let's get some hugs in and then I'll run you a bath, 'kay?" he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. You hum in response.

Steve grabs your jaw to turn you to face him, "gimme a kiss" he breathes, as he gently draws you closer, letting your lips brush. Gentle and soft, he cradles and guides your face as you kiss him.

His head inches back to look at you, a soft pout forming on your lips. He smiles.

"My pouty girl"

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fan fiction

[rosewaterandivy]

girl crush

Summary: there’s more than two beds, but of course you sleep in his.

W.C.: 2.5k

Warnings: y’all know me - it’ll be the usual! Smut, idolatry, devotion, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), pussy drunk Steve— I don’t make the rules 😤‼️

a/n: aka your first time with Steve, who may or may not be your boyfriend?

🎶 I’ve got a girl crush, I don’t get no sleep, I don’t get no peace, thinkin’ bout her 🎶

“Wish I could babe,” his voice sounds distant over the phone, wind whipping every other word through the mic, “But we just started production out here, we won’t wrap for a while yet.” You’d caught him during a break in filming, miraculously.

Several dates in LA after an introduction from Eddie, and here you are trying (and failing) to plan another. He’s back in California after a press tour and you were fresh off of recording your latest album.

“Well,” you drawl out, “I could come to you?” The question is rushed, breathless, you screw your eyes close in fear of fucking it all up.

A pause.

“You sure?”

“S’easier than dealing with your schedule, Harrington,” you say lightly, “Palm Springs is doable enough.”

He’s working on some indie picture out in the desert, you were murky on the details. You hear shuffling from his end and ‘psst’s trying to get someone’s attention.

“Rob… Rob! Can you– yeah, the address?”

A moment later your phone dings with a notification.

“So,” you say, throwing clothes haphazardly into a bag, “What’ve you got planned for us?”

Three or so hours later finds you in the desert and absolutely ecstatic about it. Dressed down in cut-offs and an old merch tank–or, as dressed down as you could get–you breathe in deep, thankful to be out of LA. Little to no paps and tabloids to be worried about–or worse, Deuxmoi acolytes–so you could finally relax.

Steve met you out front with the fattest joint you’d seen in years, he nearly dropped it when you all but tackled him to the ground. You were so happy to be with him again.

“Little soon to be proposing, no?”

“Think I’d do better than some hydro from Arglye,” he grouses, but you take it from him anyway with a deep inhale, “Says ‘hi’ by the way.”

“Tell him I accept and we’re registered at Tiffany’s,” you say finally, exhaling slowly.

He rolls his eyes, “Okay, Material Girl,” he helps to hoist you back up, “Tour time.”

After the grand tour, which was impressive–“Holy shit, do you have Robin on retainer? ‘Cause if not...”--Steve entertained you in the kitchen, making what he called the ‘secret sauce.’

“Oh, that?” you scoff, pouring some wine, “Had that on date number two, if you’ll recall.” You take a sip and continue with a waggle of your brows, “My compliments to the chef, as ever.”

Steve blushes at that, recalling how pretty you had looked with your glossed lips around his cock, all warm and soft under the dim light from the setting sun. A groan rumbles from his chest as he braces himself against the countertop, knuckles turning white.

“You’re a menace,” he said, voice low and gravelly, before he turned his attention back to the pots and pans on the stove.

You shrug and drink some wine, savoring the crisp tart taste against your tongue. Steve flits from one spot to the next while he cooks, stirring the sauce one moment and blanching veggies the next; all the while, remaining loose enough to pour a second glass of wine for you and another for himself.

Infuriatingly attractive that.

The sun had gone down in the desert while Steve finished with the pasta. You’d assigned yourself the task of setting the table and doing the dishes after dinner. Plates and cutlery arranged, you helped yourself to some salad while Steve served the pasta.

You mouth had already been watering at the mere scent of whatever was bubbling away on the stove, and all it took was one bite to have you audibly moaning at the dinner table. His eyes met yours, mischievous and curious, as he sipped his wine.

“Fuck me, that’s good,” you say with closed eyes, savoring the taste.

Steve laughs quietly across the table.

Dinner goes on, you try to reign in your vocal appreciation of the meal. He fills you in on some details of the shoot, set gossip, and the like. You offer up the scant information you have about the upcoming tour and album release. Clearing the table is easy enough between the two of you, knocking hips every so often as you washed and he dried the dishes.

You ended up in his bedroom, collecting the duffle you’d packed from the guest room down the hall. It was a kind thought, that you would opt for a separate room and your own space; he was hesitant like that, never wanting to assume.

Electing to change in the ensuite bathroom, you step out of the denim cutoffs and fold them neatly on the counter. Shoes had been kicked off at the front door earlier in the evening, leaving you now in an ancient Corroded Coffin shirt that had seen better days. He’s sat on the bed, looking all soft and sweet–tousled hair and wire rimmed glasses framing his face nicely, skin flushed from the wine.

He bit his lip when he saw you come out, hair a mess and legs, legs, legs, but a vision nevertheless. He can’t help himself as you step between his splayed knees at the edge of the bed, his hands coming to rest against he curve of your hips.

“Hey honey,” he murmurs as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Hey Steve,” you greet in return, lips pulled tight in an embarrassed smile.

Gently, he tugs you closer to him, the fabric of the shirt rucking up against your skin. His finger skirts against the back of your thigh, the skin shivering involuntarily. “Missed you,” he says, voice raspy and low.

His soft gaze lingers on you, warm hazel eyes looking up through long lashes. “Missed you too,” you say quietly.

“Yeah?” he asks, fingers grasping at the flare of your hips before he leans back on the bed, “C’mere then.”

As you clamber onto the bed, he lays back against the cool cotton of the duvet pulling you down with him. Substantively seated in his lap, you rest your head against his chest and let out a sigh.

“Comfy?” he says, a hand trailing lazily up and down your back. You nod, fingering the fabric of the shirt between your fingers. Softened by time and wear, paint and lettering disintegrating each time you wore it. It smells comforting like you–cardamom and sandalwood with a hint of something boozy–smells like home.

“I’ll keep you close then.”

His other arms falls against your hips while he continues to trace shapes against your back. You feel his lips leave at the crown of your head before his head falls back against the mattress. It’s quiet and he can tell from the rhythm of your breathing that you’re a few minutes from falling asleep.

The nation’s favorite spitfire in his bed, face nuzzled into his chest, bit by bit chiseling your way into his heart.

Steve lets his teeth worry his bottom lip, willing his nerves not to get the best of him. “Y’know, I really like you.”

“Mmm,” your drowsy moan comforting, the lazy smile tugging at your lips setting off the butterflies in his stomach. “I really like you too.”

Fuck, he hadn’t been this nervous in a while. And yeah, you’d been seeing each other for a minute but not long enough to have the ‘what are we’ conversation.

His hand tangles in your hair, loose and windswept from the drive, fingers scratching lightly at your scalp. A muffled moan pours from your lips and vibrates his chest.

“Sorry, sorry” you slur sleepily, “M’not normally such a lightweight.”

Steve, for his part, doesn’t think anything of it. You’d had, what, one glass of wine at dinner— maybe two? But you could be tired from the drive.

Maybe he’s misreading this thing entirely. A brief flicker of panic licks up his spine; maybe it’s too soon, maybe you just want to sleep—

“Can hear you thinkin’ up there,” you mumble and pull him from his downward spiral. A brief movement as you settle your chin to his chest and glance up. Your eyes are half-lidded and sultry, lips pulled in an enticing fashion.

He grunts when you shift your weight until you’re practically sitting on his chest to keep him breathless. He’s smiling up toward the ceiling, one side of his lips curled upward, jaw slack, easy and yielding because Steve offers himself to everything like this: headfirst and wide-open.

It’s be infuriating if he wasn’t crashing headlong toward you. It’d be irritating if he wasn’t so damn earnest about it.

After a while of feeling out each other's atmosphere, eyes catching every so often before flitting away to focus on something else, Steve arches up to request a kiss, all warmth and need.

You lean down to touch your lips to his gently, brushing your nose with his along the way— a wholly delicate gesture he never would’ve expected from you, but has grown to adore.

“We can go slow,” you breathe against his lips. “Don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Steve’s stomach swoops. He reaches up to cradle the back of your neck, drawing your forehead to his. “That so?”

You're smiling— so big and beautiful it hurts. And his heart is so loud he thinks you must hear it.

The kiss was clumsy, you chalked it up to too much drink, but the touch of your lips to his burned down his throat, like whiskey and joy— warm and smooth and cataclysmic as his hand cupped your face. You kiss him and Steve hears himself sighing into your mouth. His cheeks flush in excitement because you’re not letting go, so he presses his lips to yours a little slower, a little firmer, learning all the ways you like to feel him there.

“Steve,” you breathe, and it lights him up. “Steve,” you say again, and his eyes slip shut. Even now, he’s crushed with longing.

You press the heat of your core into his groin, grinding your hips into his.  

When your tongue touches him again, he thinks he might go blind. His eyes flutter open as much as they can, to savor the moment of your face so close to his. Your eyes, shut. Your skin, flushed. Your hair, a silky, folded curtain against his chest.

You are straddling Steve’s thigh now, sitting on your knees and moving against his thick limb in slow orbits. The underwear sitting against your hips is still there but does nothing to keep the slickness between your legs at bay. His thigh is moist from it, and it catches a shine in the fading light.

“Need you, baby,” you plead. “Any way you want.”

You glow like a full moon in the night, divining his animal desires with phosphorescent eyes.

Too eager now with permission. Too eager now with the fiercest kind of lust—of love—he lets it go. All for you, and you all for him. He nips at your collar, drowning deeper and deeper. Fingers meandering to hook into the gauzy and damp fabric hiding you from him and pulls. Wants you bare and shuddering beneath him. Hip bones against hip bones, the noises you make—ragged and hoarse—sending tremors down his back.

Steve grips your waist and moves you from his leg. A whimper escapes before it turns into a gasp as he turns you around, back meeting the cool of the sheets. “You call it, sweetheart.” Comes his husky voice in your ear. You know he means it completely.

A moan slips forth when he dives into the back of your shirt and tears it off, does the same with his. He wants to hear that noise again. The two of you are entwined like real lovers, pulling apart only to breathe and whisper to each other.

He falls onto his forearms, touching foreheads together, noses together, lips hovering until you meet him in a sloppy half-kiss, tongue slipping over his, spit and sweat shimmering across your mouth.

Steve doesn’t bother taking his boxer-briefs off completely, crumpling them down just below his cock is enough for him to slide in like he was created for you. He tells you as much, as you whimper and cry out beneath him.

“Look at me,” He prompts, tilting your face so you see where he’s connected to you. He’s searing hot as he thrusts upwards. “You were made for this.” He’s delirious with it, the heavy thrum that flows through the union of your bodies, “You were made for me.”

Like a prayer, he repeats your name.

Inside of that deafening miasma, Steve is still awake and a part of him knows that this is what he’d been longing for. His cock is throbbing inside of you and every time he pulls out and thrusts back in, your cunt wipes any shred of doubt from his mind.

Your head tips backwards and he catches the base of your skull in one giant hand. “So good,” you praise, “You’re so good, Steve.”

God, he’s so hard. Cramming himself inside your body, torso to torso, as close as he can get because he needs it—he needs it so bad.

He’s blind with it, drunk off it, beginning to rut like he’s in heat, surprised at the confessions he burns into your neck g’na marry you, fuck— that have you gasping and clenching in equal measure. Catalogues and litanies of honey, baby, fuckfuckfuck, god—growling devotions sinking into your throat, your shoulder, your chest. Sucking inscriptions in the common tongue of love as they slip past his lips.

You take all of him again and again, matching his pace, eyes squeezed shut, opening briefly but dazed. Panting and pleading his name, sudden waves of orgasm making you shake and shiver. Then he starts again— easier, kinder, letting the beast work its way back through his skin. Tongue sweeping lines. Canines pulling flesh.

You sigh and smile. A sacred dream of flesh and blood wrapped around him. “Wanna see you, baby,” you say, “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

So he does, blinking through the darkness and finds you like a beacon, as you always are, as you always will be. His hair falls to one side, lighter from the summer sun, suspended and rocking along.

“’S that good? Like this?”

“Yeah. Yes,” he babbles, “Wanna give you everything.”

“Come with me, Steve—come on, baby.”

And it’s all so fast. Your words. His words. Your hands. His hands. Hips moving in heavy thrusts and hair falling over his face and endless moans of god, fuck, 'm gonna come at the last minute before his eyes roll back behind his lids.

Steve buries his face into your neck, groaning. “Mine,” he whispers finally coming back to himself. Raspy and slow and again when you gasp. Your nails dig into his back reflexively, thighs squeezing him tight.

He’s smiling like an idiot because he doesn’t know what else to do about it. His heart is fluttering and filling up. He looked at you for too long, thought about you too hard even though you’re right here and his, and maybe that’s what launched itself into his dizzy head.

A hard kiss that makes you whimper. Mine. Another to the line of your open jaw. Mine. Your throat. Your collar. Your chest. Mine. Mine. Mine.

You smile into his temple, rubbing your cheek on him, too. 

“Keeping me all to yourself?”

He nods eagerly, heart full, then overflowing. “Keeping you forever.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #modern!actor!steve #fic: hmlhr #Spotify

[thornsnvultures]

heaven can('t) wait

steve harrington x plus size!fem!reader

tweaked a bit from this anon request (sorry it took song long), less angst and more silly because I like writing readers who are secure in their bodies, it's healing for me. I hope you like it!

cw: 18+ nsft, smut, afab!reader, body worship, new relationship insecurities, oral (fem recieving), fingering, p in v sex, spanking, light breath play, Daddy kink, breeding kink, creampie (if there's anything I missed lmk), >2k words

divider by @/saradika

"Get your butt out here before I come in and get'cha."

You could practically hear Steve's hands on his hips through the bathroom door. But you weren't coming out. Not like this. Steve wanted you to try on his old gym shorts before he got rid of them.

You should've listened to your gut; the damn things didn't fit. Well, you were able to get them up and over your ass, but the waistband dug into your tummy making it spill over the top and the material was digging into your thighs. You felt like a can of biscuits about to pop.

Now, it wasn't your body's fault for being built the way it was. You've always been soft around the edges, had plenty of hips and thighs and tummy to spare since you hit puberty and you were fine with that. It was these damn shorts, they just weren't made for you. Obviously, they were men's shorts. And a size too small.

"You overestimated what these shorts were capable of, Harrington," you called as you twisted and turned in the mirror. You had to admit your ass looked good, like those girls at the gym who scrunched their yoga shorts up their entire butt like their ass was having them for dinner.

But you still weren't comfortable with Steve seeing you like this. As much as you were okay with your body, this relationship was...new. You'd been hurt before. Was now the time you wanted to test your relationship? See if Steve was the kinda guy to really hurt you?

"You've got until the count of three, baby," Steve yelled, a playfulness in his voice that made your heart race. You almost wanted to push him, have him bust in here and let him punish you for not listening when he used his "babysitter voice". More like his Daddy voice. A thrill rushed through you, running straight through to your clit. Steve was at two and a half when you shook yourself out of it.

"Two and three quarters..."

Steve was grinning at you when you threw the door open.

"Three. They don't fit, Steve."

"I don't know about that," Steve said as he took a step back. "They look like they fit just right."

You pluck at the waistband, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "They clearly don't. See, they're digging in."

"Lemme see," Steve said, his voice sounding deeper, his eyes narrowed in on your exposed tummy. You watch him drop to his knees in front of you, your breath catching in your throat. Steve's hands travel up your legs, over your thighs and hips until they reach the waistband of the shorts.

Slowly, Steve peels down the elastic, revealing the indents where it dug into your skin.

"You poor thing," Steve whispers as he kisses your skin, feather-light brushes of chapstick smooth lips that soothe where you ache. Well, not everywhere.

"Steve," you run your fingers through his hair, cradling his head as he moves across the expanse of your tummy. Yeah, if you were testing him, Steve would be passing with flying colors.

Moving to your hips, Steve pulled the shorts down further, exposing the sides of your panties where they hugged your hips. With the shorts now around your thighs, you found it harder to move. If you wanted to pull away from Steve now, you might fall over. Thankfully his hands were cradling your ass now, kneading and squeezing your supple flesh. How thoughtful of him to keep you upright.

You couldn't help but laugh at yourself, at being stuck and the wild sight of your big beautiful man worshiping you on his knees.

"What's so funny, baby," Steve stops his tickling kisses to bite at your hip, not too hard but hard enough to make you yelp and to leave a mark. "Got something you wanna tell the class?" Steve punctuates his sentence with a slap to your ass.

"Get me out of these shorts, Harrington," you wriggle around in his hold, your ass stinging and your pussy throbbing from all this love and affection. "They're cutting off my circulation."

Steve all but growls watching you jiggle in his hold. He yanks his shorts off you, your panties too, throwing them across the room.

"S'that better?"

Steve doesn't wait for you to answer before he's pulling you forward and slamming the bathroom door closed behind you. Suddenly you're being turned around and pushed face first into the door. Steve's spreading your legs apart and nudging your lower back down with one hand on your spine until your back is arched and you're spread wide open.

"This is for making me wait."

You shout when Steve slaps your ass again.

"Steve, please," you whine, your ass smarting from Steve's heavy hand.

"Should've came out when I told you to, pretty girl," Steve nips at your cheeks, trailing kisses behind the pain.

He's very pointedly ignoring your pussy, the bastard. You squirm, trying to entice him closer to your core as your head falls to the door with a groan.

"Next time you decide to hide this hot little body from me, you don't get to come at all."

Steve smacks your ass again, the hardest one yet, and dives face first into your pussy. He spreads your ass open with his big fucking hands, locking eyes with you over your shoulder as he tongues your pussy.

Steve sucks your clit and you can't hold back your screams. Not that you would bother if there was. His tongue feels way too good flicking back and forth over your sensitive nub, alternating between that and sucking your soul out.

"Tell Daddy you're sorry," Steve growls when he comes up for air. "Tell him you won't hide from him again if you want this dick."

Steve slides his fingers into your cunt, two thick fingers that make your eyes roll back and your jaw drop before you can say a word. A long, deep whine falls from your lips. Any smart-ass remark you want to make is lost in the way he curls his fingers inside you, immediately finding the spot that turns you to goo.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. Sorry, I'm sorry," you babble. "Won't hide again. Please please please."

"That's it, baby," Steve purrs, his fingers stretching you open. "Beg for it."

You whine and cry and beg for his dick but all he gives you is his fingers. Fucking you deep until you're gushing, drooling down his arm.

Steve reaches around your side to hold your tummy. His fingers dig into soft flesh and he groans, biting the swell of your ass that jiggle by his face.

"So fucking sexy, baby. Love watching you fall apart for me."

"Daddy, please," you cry out as you come on his fingers again. "Need you inside me."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you," Steve stands, his fingers still filling your cunt like he's stuck. He bends over your arched back to nuzzle into your cheek, his thick cock pressing into your hip. His face is wet with your slick, you can smell yourself all over him and it makes your pussy clench around his fingers.

"Please," you whine. "Need you to fuck me. Daddy."

Steve inhales, his chest expanding against your back. He keeps his fingers in your cunt, stroking you lovingly from the inside, while he pushes his sweatpants down. You hear him step out of them and for a brief moment you're empty, hollow without him.

But the feeling is gone as quickly as it came when Steve taps his dick against your lips.

"Ready, baby?"

You nod, your hands braced against the bathroom door as Steve begins to ease his cock inside. It's a tight fit, Steve's almost too big. Just enough that you're panting and telling yourself to relax so you can take it but not too much that it hurts. He doesn't want to hurt you, he tells you that himself.

"Let me in, sweet girl. God, you're gripping me so tight. Let me all the way in, you feel so good."

Steve noses at your cheek, his chest rubbing against your back. He must've taken off his shirt while he was feeding you his cock because you feel the hair on his chest tickling your skin.

"That's it, baby," Steve says through his teeth once he's all the way in. He only lets you settle for a moment before he's pounding in and out, over and over. The door rattles under your palms with the force of his thrusts and you cry out.

"Fuck, Steve, yes!"

"What's my name?" Steve takes you by the throat, not pressing hard enough to take away your breath but to turn your head so he can capture your lips in a kiss before he asks you again. "What's my name, baby?"

"Daddy!"

Steve's hips hit even harder, drilling into you. He never takes his eyes off you, holding your face to look at him as he gives your neck a squeeze.

"Who's body is this?"

"Yours, it's yours."

"That's right."

Steve pulls out of you with a slick squelch and leads you by the neck to his bed. He pushes you down on it and watches you inch back towards his pillows. He looks so wild. His hair sticking up in places, his chest red and heaving. Steve pumps his wet dick and climbs up after you. He grabs your legs by the backs of your thighs and pushes them up, all the way up to your chest. Your thick thighs frame your belly and squish your tits and Steve is looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. The monster between his legs twitches in his grip.

"It's all yours, Daddy. I'm all yours."

"Yes, you are," Steve grins as he slides his cock home, right where it belongs. "Every inch of you. No matter what clothes you wear or what you look like," Steve groans, easing his cock in and out. His arms bracket your head, leaning his big body into your space until he's a breath away and resting his forehead on yours. "You're mine. All mine."

You can't do anything but breath him in and feel. The way his cock bullies that spot in you over and over. How your nails dig into Steve's back and he doesn't even flinch, too focused on making you cum again. You try to meet his thrusts, arching your back, his twisting because it's too much, it feels too good.

"Fuck, Steve. Daddy, I'm cumming, I'm-"

"Yes, yes, that's it. That's it, baby," Steve watches as your mouth drops in a silent scream, your eyes rolling back, all the air getting stuck in your lungs as you shatter. "So perfect, my perfect girl. Fuck, gonna fill you up. Fill my pussy up with cum," Steve grits through his teeth.

Your hands grab his face, forcing him to look at your blissed out face.

"Give me your baby, Daddy."

Steve's eyes roll back in his head and his whole body shudders. He warms your insides, filling you up just like he said he would until he's leaking out, dripping onto the bed.

"God, why did you say that," Steve groans into your neck.

"Cause I knew it would make you cum," you laugh.

"Should've never told you I wanted kids."

You laugh again as Steve rolls off you, getting up to grab a towel.

"Should've never told me I had nice, wide birthing hips either, Daddy."

Steve throws the towel at you cackling on the bed.

"I was drunk!"

"You wanted me so bad it made you stupid," you smile at him and pull him in for a kiss when he reaches for the towel.

"You're right. Those shorts made me stupid. I saw them and I knew they wouldn't fit but I needed to see you in them anyway."

"Steve!"

"Tell me it wasn't worth it!" Steve smiles and you bite your lip watching him wipe his softening dick clean. You should be doing that, not the towel. Next time.

"It was worth it, you're right," you purr, taking Steve into your arms when he crawls back into bed. "Next time can you buy me some sexy lingerie or something instead of tricking me into feeling like a packed can of sardines?"

Steve laughs and kisses you silly. "Keep calling me 'Daddy' and I'll do whatever you want, beautiful."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x plus size!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #daddy!steve harrington #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fan fiction #tw daddy kink #my fics

[thecomfortgoth]

Peeping Tom Part 2

18+ MDNI (just don't, ok?)

Part 1 can be found here. Masterlist can be found here.

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader x Perv!Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve hadn't been able to get what he'd saw behind that gym block out of his mind. Even when he was fucking other girls. A confession, a confrontation and a deal is made.

WC: 8.2k

CW: unprotected p in v sex (use a condom, pls), booty call, masturbation (m), panty sniffing/licking, gaslighting, use of degrading pet names, use of praisey pet names, daddy kink, dom!Steve, ONE use of y/n (I tried avoiding it but I couldn't), face fucking, fingering (f receiving), Steve being a fuckboy and a pervert, very small & brief mention of a piss kink (only time this will ever happen), mention of squirting, posessiveness, jealousy, mentions of voyeurism/exhibitionism, violence (there's a little bit of blood), bullying/teasing, illusions to/discussion of cheating, dirty talk, kinda angst? all characters are 18+

Please let me know if I've forgotten anything and I will add it.

A/N: okay here it is, part 2 finally. It was originally going to end up being huge so please don't worry, this is NOT the end of this story, there WILL be a part 3. I am a little worried this will be a bit of a let down, but I promise part 3 is gonna be worth it, so bare with me, it's coming. Leave feedback, let me know if you enjoyed it!

My requests are currently OPEN and I write for Eddie, Steddie, Steve and Billy. Send me some stuff!

Smut (and a little bit of angst this time) under the cut

He knew he'd find you here. Standing at your locker, completely unaware of his presence.

He snorted a quiet laugh to himself as he thought of how that wasn't the first time you didn't know he was there. He watched you from down the hall, sorting through textbooks and putting some in your bag, taking others out and slotting them into their rightful place inside the small metal closet full of your belongings.

His eyes gazed over the little dress you were wearing today. A gorgeous deep wine red, strappy with a black t-shirt underneath, the fabric hugging at your waist and flowing out around your hips. Your legs were bare, they looked like they were so fucking soft. The whole ensemble finished off with a pair of simple black leather platform ankle boots.

Steve had never really been one for noticing exactly what a girl was wearing, usually too focused on getting them out of their clothes to be bothered with it. But with you? It was different. He kinda wanted to fuck you fully clothed, hiking that pretty dress up enough for him to slot between your thighs and slip inside that soaked slit between your legs that he'd thought about since it was first revealed to him last week.

Fuck, he'd thought about it almost every night. Even when he was balls deep inside whatever his flavour of the day was. But he also thought about having you completely bare and exposed for him too. Alot.

Before he knew it, he was moving forwards, smirking a little as he saw your eyes flash towards him, finally noticing him. Your cheeks turned a real pretty shade of pink and he just knew it complimented the colour of your perky nipples, and that it had flushed all the way up to the tip of your ears.

You'd been actively trying to avoid him. Apart from a few little winks in the corridors in passing which made you want to shrivel up with embarrassment, you'd managed to successfully do so. But now he was coming up to you. And Eddie wasn't here to hide behind or use as an excuse or a distraction. The hallway was filled with strangers as you scanned around for one singular familiar face, cursing under your breath as you heard the footsteps get closer.

"Looking for someone, pretty girl?" He crooned, smooth and his voice still a little thick with the morning. Turning your head you saw him leaning against the locker next to yours, a thumb slotted into the belt loop of blue jeans as his other hand held the strap of his backpack.

Fuck. You had to talk to him now. You didn't want to be rude and you definitely didn't want to just walk away. It'd look really fucking strange if you did that. As much as you wanted to, so badly. "Uh.. n-no I was just.. seeing if Eddie was coming, he should be here a-any second now" you stuttered out nervously, giving him a small tight lipped smile, trying to deter him by threatening the appearance of your large intimidating boyfriend. You definitely had scary dog privileges, and you were thankful for it right now.

"Oh I'm sure he's coming alright" he grinned at you, bearing his teeth like a shark, eyeing you up and down slowly, drinking you in. You found it somewhat threatening. Even if you couldn't help but think about just how perfect his incisors would feel sinking into the skin of your shoulder. You swallowed and shook your head a little at his comment, trying to get rid of your thoughts as the blush on your face deepened.

"Look, Steve, I-I know you saw us that day behind the gym block b-but-" you started, looking down at your feet as you closed your locker but were cut off by him laughing a little at you. Kind of meanly. You looked at him in confusion, reaching up and fiddling with the guitar pick necklace of Eddie's that you always wore. He'd told you it would show everyone you were his girl - even if everyone already knew that. It'd become somewhat of a security item for you now.

"B-but what?" He mocked you a little, cocking his head to the side and looking at you now like he pitied you, still with that fucking stupid grin on his face. "Don't sit there and act all shy, sweets. You definitely weren't when I sat and watched your boyfriend drill his dick inside you while you flicked your tongue at me and watched me cum in front of you" he chuckled low, getting a little closer to you.

You still couldn't look at him. You kept your gaze on the floor, shuffling uncomfortably from foot to foot. You felt like the walls were closing in the closer he got, feeling your back hit against the cool metal behind you and a hand plant itself next to your head, the sound of it making you gasp a little and your head shooting up. You looked at the hand. It was his hand. His big, thick fingers tapping steadily at the grate of the locker. Why did you clench your thighs at the sight of them, thinking about how they'd feel stuffed inside you?

You turned your face slowly to see him closer than ever, only inches from your face now. Jesus fucking Christ, what was he doing?! Eddie was sure to come around the corner any moment now and catch you two like this. And he'd fucking rip him limb from limb if he saw him up this close and personal to you. Even if he wasn't even touching you. "Y-you need to go" you squeaked out pathetically, your voice just above a whisper.

"Why? I mean, it's not like Eddie's gonna really care. He let me watch you two fuck, didn't he?" He grinned his teeth at you wider, the grin faltering a little as you ducked your head again. "Shit" he muttered under his breath. "He had no fucking clue did he? You let me see all that and he didn't even know? And you still haven't ratted me out? Wow, maybe you are a dirty little slut after all, keeping naughty little secrets like that from your boyfriend" he groaned a little, getting a tiny bit closer. "Wonder if you'd keep any more dirty little secrets from him.." he said in a raspy tone, making your heart flutter at a million miles an hour for more than one reason.

"You want me to make your cunt drip down your leg with my cum like he did that day?" He smirked as you gasped at his words, your face shooting up as you looked at him angrily now, Steve getting ever closer to you as his hot breath fanned your face. "He doesn't have to know, does he? Cause you can keep a secret, can't you?"

You'd had enough. You couldn't fucking take this bullshit anymore. You used all your strength and pushed him away from you, watching as he stumbled back and laughed at you, seeing you storm off down the hallway with the straps of your backpack gripped tightly in both hands. Your face was now matching the colour of your dress and your jaw clenched, lips pursed tightly against each other as you made your way to class, steam practically rising out of your head.

He'd got what he wanted. He'd successfully riled you up. And he knew you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. He smirked in your direction, watching the way the skirt of your dress would flounce around your ass as you briskly walked off. He couldn't help but kiss the air again in your direction, like he'd done that day last week, before he made his way to his own class. His mind now filled with a million dirty thoughts, a lot of them about throwing you in a janitor's closet and making a mess of that pretty little flushed face of yours and getting that little dress off you. As much as he'd love to be inside your cunt with it still draped over your every curve.

That night was just a normal Wednesday night, and Steve had no plans. His parents were gone and it wasn't quite the weekend so there was no use trying to throw a party. But he couldn't shake the thought of your pretty dress and the way it swished around your thighs, almost revealing your round, jiggly ass to him as you walked off.

How it hugged against your swollen chest as you huffed down the corridor angrily. He wasn't sure why he found the thought of you walking away all pissed off and embarrassed because he'd been teasing you at school so fucking hot. He smirked to himself, humming a little and feeling a tent in his pants form as he lounged around on the couch in his grey sweats and no shirt, his bare hairy chest fully exposed to the elements.

He palmed at himself a little, thinking back to what he had seen in that alley that day. The way you looked at him, the way you licked your lips, the way your mouth fell open and you made a really pretty noise when Eddie fucked you a certain way, probably hitting your g-spot with the head of his cock. Fuck. He groaned at the thought of that, how your pussy would flutter at having that special spot inside you battered against repeatedly with a thick cock.

Steve was rock solid now. He wanted to push his dick between your wet little lips and face fuck you into next fucking year, make your eyes water and your drool spill down your chin and neck, soaking the collar of whatever you were wearing. Or just your bare tits if he'd got you out of your clothes by that point.

But he can't, cause you're Eddie's. And yeah, maybe that did make him a little jealous, because he wanted to destroy you and leave you more of a mess than Eddie had. More of a mess than you probably had ever been.

Fuck it. He wasn't in the mood to deal with his boner himself, not when he could have someone else's hand wrapped around him at a moment's notice, the perks of being "The King". He pushed himself up off the couch, heading up to his room to find his little notebook of girls phone numbers he kept. You know, the kind that any popular senior high guy would have.

Or maybe it was just Steve. Chicks really digged Steve for some reason. He wasn’t sure if it was the hair, his charm or the fact that he was more than well endowed. Or maybe he just knew a lot of slutty girls. He looked through the book, trying to find someone who was even anything close to you. Although they'd never compare, not in a million years.

Not Tammy, she sounds like a fucking muppet even when she’s having sex, especially when she cums. Steve shuddered at the memory of it. Not Nancy, she's with Jonathan and definitely too much of a goody two shoes to cheat on him, even if he knows that his dick has to be bigger and better than that little rat looking fuckers. He scoffs a laugh as he flips past her name.

He finds a girls name, no last name, just written down hastily as “Claire from Chem class”. He couldn’t remember who that was for a minute, he had to think about it. Wow, was he really that much of a manwhore? He chuckled to himself as he thought of it, coming to the conclusion that he was but he didn't particularly care.

Suddenly his eyes went wide when he remembered that she was the girl who could deepthroat a cock without taking a breath for at least 5 minutes. And she’d let him cum inside her, she did last time. “Shit” he hissed out, rubbing at his erection over his sweats, mulling it over in his head. She did have the same hair colour as you. And the same body shape. So it would make imagining it was you much easier. He picked up his phone and immediately dialled her number, confident in his choice of fuckdoll for tonight. It wasn’t long before she answered the phone eagerly, giving him a sweet little “Hello?”

He smirked to himself, poking his tongue on the inside of his cheek as he lounged back against the headboard of his bed, the cord of the phone stretching over as he lazily stroked a finger up and down the outline of his clothed dick. “Hey babygirl” he said down the phone, turning that charm up to 11 as he heard Claire from Chem Class giggle and say his name down the phone breathily, clearly trying to be sexy. “What are you up to, gorgeous? You wanna come over? I’ve missed you”

It's not long before Claire is at his place, he’s grabbing at her and pulling her close the second she's in through the door, biting his lip at her and sliding his hands up her hips to her waist, pressing her against the wall next to the front door, her hands going to his shoulders and laying there, letting him feel her up as he pleased.

He does notice as she's trying to say hello to him that she’s wearing a nice little blue denim skirt and a white tank top that pushes her tits up nicely, they’re just about as big as yours too and they make him groan at the sight of them, surging forward and sloppily making out with her, all tongue and teeth and spit as she reached down and cupped his bulge. She fucking knew exactly what she was coming here for, the little whore.

The thought makes him stiffen further in his sweats as he moves his hands under her top, cupping at her bare tits, pinching at her stiff nipples a little meanly as she whimpered into his mouth. Fuck, no bra. And suddenly he’s thinking about you again. How you showed Eddie (and him) your tits behind the gym block that day. Completely exposing yourself for any wandering eyes to potentially see.

He fucking practically growled, picking the girl up who he’d basically asked to come over so he could use her like a fleshlight, wrapping her legs around his waist, carrying her upstairs and into his bedroom. He swatted a firm hand down onto her ass and listened to her moan out as he grabbed at it under her skirt, not bothering to close his door behind them. No one was home so it didn’t matter.

He quickly got her to the edge of his bed, stripping her off out of the few pieces of clothes she actually was wearing, tossing her pretty blue lace panties into the corner of his room. Not before he brought them up to his face and inhaled them deeply as she leaned forward and sloppily made out with his neck, flicking his tongue over the small wet patch of her arousal he could see darkening them. She wouldn’t be getting those back, that was safe to say. He’d be adding them to the pile of girls underwear he’d started collecting in the last few months which he’d started doing for… reasons.

God, what he’d give to have a pair of your panties, he doesn’t care what colour they are or if they were sexy or not, he just wanted to have something that had been pressed tightly against your cunt all day, soaked with your sweet wetness, something he could sniff and lick at just like he did a moment ago with Claire Whoever's, something he could wrap around his cock and get himself off with whenever he wanted. Or until it was too covered in his cum and he physically couldn’t use them anymore.

He tossed her onto his bed with a bounce, standing at the side smirking down at her as she looked up at him, licking her lips as her eyes hungrily watched him shuffle his sweats off, his cock springing up against stomach and already leaking a little. It was all because of the thoughts of you he’d been having. And maybe also a little because this Claire girl from chem class was actually pretty hot. He got onto the bed in front of her, spreading her legs and holding them apart for him, studying her shaved wet pussy that was spread open wide for him as he hovered over her.

Steve wasn't fussy about pussy hair or the lack thereof, if there was a hole and a clit for him to bully, he really didn't care about anything else. But yours had a tiny patch of hair, perfectly groomed that sat just above your slit. He wondered what it’d feel like against his tongue if he licked that little patch of hair on your cunt. If he’d be able to taste you from it before he’d even dipped his tongue into you.

He heard her whine a little, grinning down at her like she was his prey, rolling her hips towards him ever so slightly. “Keep your legs open for me just like that babe, yeah?” he said as he slipped a hand between her legs and slid his fingers up and down her already soaked slit, teasing her as he watched her whimper and gasp underneath him, leaning down to kiss and bite at her neck, not particularly caring if he was being too hard or not.

She didn’t say anything anyway, she just moaned out so he assumed she was enjoying it. He quickly remembered she was the type to like being used, maybe a little bit of a pillow princess. He wondered if you’d like that too, if you'd just lay there and let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to you, move you around however he wanted to.

“You gonna suck me off like you did last time, baby? I haven’t forgotten what you can do with that fuckin’ throat of yours” he groaned against her neck, licking over the teeth marks he’d just made in her skin. She nodded her head and placed her hands on his shoulders again, which he swiftly grabbed by each of her wrists and pinned above her head, pulling back to look down at her as he used one big hand to tightly bind her wrists together and push them into the mattress a bit more.

“I asked you a fuckin' question. I expect you to answer me, using your words. Or is that too much for your dumb little brain to handle?” he said through gritted teeth, clenching his jaw a little. Safe to say, Steve definitely liked to be the one in control in the bedroom, he liked overpowering girls, making them bend to his will and obey his every command.

“Y-yes daddy” she whimpered pathetically, and she almost sounded just like how he imagined you would if you said the same thing. He chuckled lowly, his cock twitching at what she’d just called him, leaning down and placing his other hand on her jaw, opening her mouth for him as he licked into it and then spat directly on her tongue, watching as she swallowed before shuffling himself up so he was straddling her chest, still holding her wrists in one hand as he lined up his cock with her mouth.

“Thats what I like to fuckin’ hear, atta girl. Now open wide, don’t keep me fucking waiting." he gritted out, watching as she parted her lips and suddenly thrusting his whole length into her mouth, moaning out as he felt her gag around him at the sudden intrusion, but welcoming him in all the same. He fucked her mouth just like that, closing his eyes and pretending it was your mouth he was fucking into instead, feeling her squirm a little underneath him and listening to all the little whimpers and whines coming from her between chokes and gags. He wasn’t exactly quiet either, moaning and groaning without abandon as he pumped himself harshly into her throat.

"Stay still, slut. I'll just fuck harder if you don't stop, leave your throat all bruised from the inside, that what you want, hm?" She sighed a breath through her nose and whined as he said that, stopping her writhing and just laying there, letting him use her mouth for his own pleasure, spreading her legs wider behind him, exposing her pussy to the cool air of his room. Just like he'd wanted.

He continues on like that for a few minutes, until she slaps her hand back on the pillow a few times to let him know she needs some air, pulling out and moving beside her, taking one of her hands and wrapping it around his cock. He moved it up and down, silently instructing her to stroke him, his hand slipping between her legs again and immediately finding her clit, rubbing harsh circles into it for a moment before sliding his fingers down to her entrance and pushing two of his fingers inside her, hearing her moan out his name, not really close to how he’d imagined you would but it would do.

He latched his mouth onto the nipple closest to him and sucked at the peaked bud, licking and slurping at it harshly. He pumped his fingers in and out of her fast and hard, feeling her pussy clench and flutter around his digits, groaning as he made her cum on his fingers after a few short minutes, listening to her moan loudly, calling her a dirty whore and asking her if she liked being used like this, to which she just whimpered and nodded, fucked out and drooling all over herself already.

Steve was too fucking good sometimes. He could have girls squirting with minimal effort sometimes, and yeah maybe he was a little cocky about it. Even if Steve really was only after his own release, he still made sure they had a good time. Good enough they'd come back begging for more and he could have a healthy collection of all kinds of girls he could take his pick from whenever he fancied it.

Soon after, he’s moving between her legs, grabbing both of her calves and pushing her legs right back, her knees almost touching her shoulders. “Think you’re ready for me now, baby. You want daddy’s cock filling you up nice and deep?” he moaned a little, reaching down to position himself at her entrance, not giving her a chance to respond before he was thrusting inside of her and bottoming out immediately.

He didn’t like to waste time with these girls, which is why he immediately got to thrusting inside her, leaning back on his heels as he held her legs up in the air, open wide for him. He listened as she cried out at the stretch of him, grabbing the pillow behind her tightly and screwing her face up as her mouth hung wide open, her tits bouncing obscenely as his balls slapped against her ass with each pump of his hips.

He imagined it was your gorgeous face. Your pretty round tits. You laying on your back underneath him, spread wide for him as he fucked into you faster and harder, groaning and cursing as he watched you lose your fucking mind beneath him, moaning louder and louder with each thrust. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in it, lost in the feeling of the girls tight cunt swallowing him up, lost in the fantasy of fucking you behind Eddie’s back.

He just had to break you down a little first, get you to the point you couldn’t resist and would just have to fuck him. He saw how you looked at him, how you licked those lips at him and your gaze stayed on him the whole time your boyfriend was railing you against the wall. Through his thoughts, he distantly heard a voice moan something about how his dick was so big and how she was gonna cum again.

“I know baby, I know, s’so big isn’t it? You’re so fucking tight jesus f-FUCK, you like being fucked like this? Like being used and being my little stupid cockwhore y/n? Bet you fucking do, such a slut fucking me while you're with Eddie” he moaned out loudly, not even realising what he was fucking saying. Suddenly the girl beneath him went quiet, but he continued on, still rutting into her, eyes closed tightly as he moaned at the thought of what you’d say back to him, imagining all sorts of filth coming out of your mouth.

“What did you just fucking say?” That wasn’t your voice.

Shit. He looked down at the girl beneath him who was giving him daggers, still fucking her but slowing down a little as he gave her a confused look, shaking his head and panting. “What? Do you not like being called a slut or something? I thought you liked it last time” He honestly couldn’t remember if she did or not, but he started to realise what he’d just said and was trying to cover his own ass.

“No, not that you fucking- get off me!” she said, sitting up and slapping at his chest, shuffling back from him as his cock slid out of her and he sat back on his heels, holding his hands out in front of himself and shaking his head again.

“What are you talking about then?”

“Who’s name did you just fucking say?”

“Yours?”

“You absolutely did not fucking say my name! You said Eddie Munsons girlfriend's name!” she barked at him, looking at him as her face screwed up angrily, her eyes narrowing in on him. “Were you just thinking about her while you were fucking me?!”

“What? I didn’t say her name! You’re fucking hearing shit, you’re that fucked out your making shit up in your head, come on babe, stop being fucking stupid and I can make you cum again and give you a nice big load of my mine” he tutted, sighing out loudly as he tried to reach forward for her, but she slapped his hands away, getting up off the bed as she looked around for her clothes. He watched her as she did so, seeing the glisten of her arousal leak down her thighs a little that he wanted to lick up with his tongue. Shit. He’d fucked up. But he only cared because his dick was painfully hard at this point and he really needed to cum. He reached down and began tugging at himself lazily, watching as she started putting her top on.

“Yes you fucking did. Stop jerking off, jesus christ. I thought you actually liked me, I thought that's why you’d called me and asked me to come over again!” she yelled at him, her expression a little hurt but mostly still angry as she hurriedly shimmied her skirt up her legs to her hips, toeing on her sneakers.

Steve was done with this shit. He fucking hated when girls assumed that they meant more to him than a quick dirty lay. He scoffed a laugh at her, shaking his head as he leaned back on his bed on an elbow, still jerking himself as he smirked at her and moaned out a little.

“Baby, you’re really gonna try that? You knew I was just calling you for a fuck, I already told you before I didn’t want anything serious with you” he chuckled, stroking the remnants of her slick over the head of his cock as he grinned at her, all teeth and sharklike. “Besides, what if I did say her name, hm? Can’t blame me, she’s a real fucking pretty girl. Got a pretty cunt too”

“Yeah, like you’d know, Eddie'd fucking kill you if you went near her so I know you haven't." Steve just shrugged and smirked at her, continuing to jerk at himself as he watched her roll her eyes and scoff at him. Oh if only she fucking knew. "Don’t fucking call me again, Steve. Lose my fucking number in that stupid little phone book of yours!” she yelled out, he could see tears pooling in the corners of her eyes as she stormed out of his room and down the stairs, hearing the front door slam shut as Claire From Chem Class left.

He knew he should feel bad, he’d clearly hurt her feelings. But he really didn’t. He’d literally just wanted to fuck her, dump his cum inside her or over her tits or something and then kick her out anyway.

He shrugged to himself, getting up and going over to the panties that she’d not even bothered to look for, taking them in his hand as he lay back against his headboard, wrapping them tightly around his cock and biting his lip, bucking up into his fist as he continued his fantasies about you, openly moaning your name and other disgusting things, rather than just thinking them, now that he was alone.

“Mmm.. you wouldn’t storm out if I said another girls name, would you baby? No, you wouldn’t, you'd be too fucking cockdrunk and gone for me.. Too fucked out with me licking your cunt, making you cum as many times as I could before splitting you open with my dick, you'd take it all baby, wouldn't you?.."

"I need to fuck you so bad, I don’t care if you have a boyfriend or if he knows or not, I need to be inside that fuckin’ dripping hole, need to feel it for myself.."

"Maybe you'd let me in your ass too, oh god, bet s'just as perfect as your pussy, you gonna show that to me too honey? Come on, spread those cheeks for me and lemme see, oh fuck.."

It wasn’t soon after that he was spilling out into the blue lace snug around his length and his hand, moaning out your name loudly. And it wasn’t the first time tonight he’d cum thinking about you. He had to throw those panties out with how many times he’d jizzed all over them while he thought about you and fucking every hole of yours available to him.

The next day at school, people were definitely talking. And Steve wasn’t sure why. He watched a few people whisper and look at him before quickly averting their gaze when he made eye contact. What the hell? He looked at them all confused, watching as a couple people walked by him and held their heads down, giggling as they did so. He sighed to himself, thinking that Carol was spreading more shit around the school about him.

He’d fucked her a few times behind Tommy H’s back, she’d said she was gonna leave Tommy for him because she loved him, Steve laughed at her and told her not to bother. She obviously didn’t take that too well and ended up making up some.. quite honestly entertaining and colourful rumours about Steve and the kind of things he was into. He’d set everyone straight when he revealed the real reason she’d been talking shit, Carol trying to deny that anything happened between her and Steve, but it was written all over her face.

Tommy dumped her on the spot and she chased after him, begging and crying for him to forgive her, saying that it didn’t mean anything, which is clearly not what she’d been saying before.

So he thought nothing of it, thinking she’d started up her hate campaign again because Tommy still wouldn’t take her back. The old rumours were quickly squashed by some other girls confirming that he definitely wasn’t into what she'd said he was and definitely didn’t have a piss kink. Okay, maybe the last one was up for debate a little, since he really did like it when he had girls squirting all over his hands, his cock or his face and he wasn’t sure if that was practically the same thing or not. He’d have to look into it to be totally sure.

He made his way over to his locker, not paying any more mind to the people around him, mentally shrugging it off since he really doesn’t care at the end of the day. He’ll still The King. He was practically untouchable, really. If he could deal with Billy Hargrove literally trying to dethrone him the minute he got here, and it still hadn’t happened? Then nothing could. He opened his locker and began shoving some random shit in there from his bag, picking up a calculus book that he knew he needed for class this afternoon so he wouldn’t need to come back later.

“HARRINGTON!” Eddie barked, turning the corner and immediately finding the exact fucking gross pervert he’d been looking for. He looked fucking livid, clenching his fists by his side as he stormed up to him, his big boots stomping along the linoleum.

Steve turned his head as he heard the angry voice calling his name, freezing on the spot. He wasn’t scared of Eddie, even if he did look a little intimidating and there were rumours about him being a Satan worshipper and a cult leader because of that little D&D club he ran. But the way he was coming towards him, looking a bit unhinged like was ready to kill someone, did give Steve a slight cause for concern. Shit, had you told him? Had he finally found out that you’d been making eyes at Steve behind his back while he jerked off and watched Eddie fuck you?

“Munson, what can I do for you? You look a bit.. pissed off, but that's nothing new really is it?” he laughed a little, shutting over his locker. He was about to turn around when he felt a hand grab at the collar of his shirt, dragging him along and into the empty classroom that was right across the hall from his locker.

Okay, maybe he was a little scared now.

Eddie threw him into the room and Steve stumbled a little, turning around to fix his shirt and brush himself off as he looked at the tall metalhead who was slamming the door shut and locking it, turning to face him again and slowly stepping towards the slightly shorter boy. Steve wasn’t scared at all now, he was just fucking annoyed. “What the fuck Munson?! Who the fuck do you think you’re laying your hands on?” he said, stepping closer to him and poking him in the chest as he did so.

“Whats this I just fucking heard about you fucking Claire Quinn last night, but moaning my girls fucking name while you were doing her?” he spat confidently, his jaw clenching tightly as he finished his sentence.

"Oh that was her name. Claire Quinn." Steve chuckled a little meanly. "Just had her down as Claire from Chem Class"

Eddie was well known to be protective and possessive over you. He didn’t like any guy looking at you for a little too long or in a certain way, always pulling you closer to him and giving them death stares. Sometimes it’d get the better of him though and he’d get physical with these guys depending on what they said or did. He’d punched Gareth once for saying that he thought you looked nice today. He soon apologised to him, realising that Gareth was actually just being nice. He'd smacked a cafeteria tray across Jason Carvers face once when he smiled at you. He didn't apologise to him.

The random guy that one time in The Hideout who grabbed your ass and said that your boyfriend didn’t need to know about it if you went home with him (when said boyfriend was stood right behind him as he said it) even after you'd told him you really weren't interested, deserved the broken nose, the missing tooth and both of you being banned from coming back for a month. It was worth missing a few gigs to Eddie, to know he’d successfully protected what was his. You’d ridden him in the back of his van 5 minutes later too, so he knew it’d turned you on and you liked it.

Steve just looked at him, blinking at him for a second before he burst out laughing, walking over to a desk and leaning back against it, folding his arms over his chest as he shook his head. “So that's what everyones been talking about huh?” he laughed quietly again, shrugging his shoulders and smirking at Eddie. “And what if I did?”

“Don’t fucking play with me, Steve. I really do not give a fuck who you are around here, I will knock your fucking teeth out if you even think about my girl again” he stepped right up to him, pointing a finger in his smarmy fucking face. Usually people would retreat by now, as soon as Eddie bared his teeth to them.

But Steve wasn’t. He continued smirking at him, keeping eye contact and Eddie was a little intimidated himself. After all Steve Harrington was the most popular guy in school and Eddie was literally fucking getting all up in his personal space right now. He could have Eddie’s life ruined in a simple trip to see Chief Hopper and a few mentions of the illicit substances that Eddie was well known around school to be in possession of at almost all times.

“You know you won’t” Steve grinned at him, licking across his teeth a little. “Come on, what's so bad about me thinking about your girl? I mean… I’ve already seen you two fucking behind the gym block”

The colour drained from Eddie’s face. Looking at him with wide eyes, blinking as he processed exactly what he’d just said. Fuck. Was he lying? No, he can't be. No one knew you had both been there or what you'd done. How much exactly had he seen? He scoffed, shaking his head and throwing his hands up in the air as he turned his back to him, slowly stepping away as he tried to think of what to do here.

He was even more annoyed now, especially since he knows for a fact that Steve had seen you in one of your most intimate moments with Eddie. But he also knew if he did to him what he did to that dude from The Hideout, he’d be immediately expelled and he would never graduate. He really needed that fucking diploma this year, he’d already had a do over. He absolutely couldn't do another.

Steve knew he had too much on the line to try anything, at least in school. But they didn’t really cross paths outside. Not really even at parties, since he usually made some girl get his weed for him, thinking he’d be able to get a discount if he did so. And just purely because he knew he could get certain girls to do anything for him and it amused him. “I mean, your girl totally enjoyed it. Shoulda seen the way she was looking at me, licking her lips and shit while I jerked off, she came quite a lot didn’t she? She ever squirted like that with you before? Nice puddle left behind, I'd have got on my knees and fucking drank it from her cunt if I coulda” he laughed, deciding he wanted to poke the bear a little

That was it. Eddie's vision went completely red, he was suddenly like a bull and Steve was the matador.

He turned around and charged towards him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and slamming his back up against the nearest wall, punching him quickly and getting right into his face, almost touching as Steve laughs in his face with his eyes screwed shut, his nose aching from the ring clad fist that just smacked into it. “Don’t you fucking dare say that shit about her. She’d never do that shit. I fucking know my girl and she’s not fucking like that” he growled at him through gritted teeth, watching as Steve lifted a finger up, swiping the tiny amount of blood dripping from his nostril now and continued laughing in his face.

“I’m serious, ask her. She sat there and watched me and she didn’t say shit to you the whole time, she was fucking loving it to making all those noises for both of us” he said, still chuckling a little as he saw Eddie rear up to punch him again. Okay, time to try and deescalate a bit, he was really pushing his buttons and maybe going a little too far here. “Ask her! Just ask her first before you beat my ass, fuck dude" he laughed loudly again, watching as Eddie leaned back a bit, still keeping him pinned to the wall but lowering his other fist. “I know I'm laughing but I'm deadly serious, you need to ask her about it”

Eddie was still raging inside. But as he thought about it, now he was a little angry at you too, not just Steve. Why hadn’t you said anything to him? You had been the one who was so scared about someone catching you that day. So why hadn’t you said a fucking word to him when Steve had inevitably seen you both? He was a tiny bit hurt too, that you willingly let someone watch you both having sex. Especially Steve Harrington, one of the most attractive guys in school, probably in Hawkins actually. Even Eddie thought so, despite the fact he’d absolutely never admit to it.

He stepped back a bit more, letting go of Steve's shirt as he sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, trying to think of exactly how he was going to ask you about this. Trying to decide how he was going to deal with him, now he didn’t know if he actually had a good reason to be violent like he wanted to be.

“What’s it gonna take for you to leave my girlfriend alone and not look at her or.. Or even think about her anymore?” he asked, rubbing at his stubbly chin and finally looking at the annoyingly handsome brown haired boy who was currently trying to fix himself up a little.

Steve scoffed, shaking his head as he fished out a tissue from his bag. “You’re not gonna fucking like what my honest answer would be to that question, Munson. And I’m not exactly thrilled at the possibility of another knuckle sandwich” he chuckled slightly, finally finding a hanky and wiping his nose with it, shoving it back in his bag and ruffling his hand through his hair.

“Just fucking say it, I really don’t fucking care, you’ve already said enough” Eddie sighed a little defeatedly, shaking his head as he turned his gaze to look out the window, crossing his arms over his chest. He was honestly still trying to process what Steve had just told him.

He really couldn’t get over the thought of you just letting someone perv on the two of you and get off to it, encouraging it. And he was also slightly confused about the fact that he thinks he would have found it hot having someone watch, if you had told him at the time. It made his blood boil and his dick twitch all at the same time. This was definitely something he’d have to unpack later on.

Steve studied him as he leaned back on the desk again, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets, crossing his ankles over one another. He thought about it for a second, whether to actually say it or not. He absolutely didn’t need to think about what he wanted to do to you, what it would take. He’d been thinking about that for a whole fucking week now already since he first saw you both. And he’d always fantasised about you anyway, since he’d never even had a chance to get into your panties.

You’d been inseparable from Eddie since pretty much the first week you’d moved to Hawkins, even if you’d only been friends for a few months before you got together. Eddie had made sure of it that no one even got a look in, since he’d fallen in love with you the moment he saw you.

“I wanna fuck her. That's what it'd take. Just once, and then I’ll leave you both alone. If I happen to catch you guys getting it on again, I’ll walk away. It’ll probably make me stop thinking about her too, it’ll be out of my system or something” He fucking wouldn’t stop thinking about you, he never would. You were literally the one thing he couldn’t ever have and that made you even more desirable to him. And Steve wasn’t one to give up without a bit of a fight to get what he wanted. At least if he got to fuck you, he’d be able to dig up the memories while he jerked off or fucked some other girl.

Eddies head snapped round at him as soon as he said he wanted to fuck you, staring at him in complete fucking disbelief. He burst out laughing and shook his head. “Not a fucking chance in hell, Harrington. You can get that idea so fucking far out of your head” he chuckled, staring the boy down as he licked across his teeth and clenched his jaw again. Who the fuck did this asshole think he was? He’d just punched him in the face for saying shit about you, did he seriously think he’d just give you to him, like he was loaning him a guitar or something, and let him rail you?

Steve shrugged, looking down at his shoes as he toed a scuff mark off the side of one of them. “Then at least let me watch again” he said matter of factly, shrugging as he smirked and looked back at Eddie. “One last time, then I swear I won’t bother the lovely couple ever again” he chuckled, rolling his eyes at how ridiculous that sounded.

Eddie stared at him, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he mulled it over. He really fucking didn’t want to let him watch. He didn't want him to see you as you fell apart under Eddie's touch again. But he also kinda really did? Besides, it would be a one off thing. And it’d keep Steve away from you. If you’d really already let him watch before, then he’d already seen everything…

“Okay, fine,” Eddie said quietly, throwing his hands in the air in surrender. “One fucking time. But I swear to god Harrington…” he stalked towards him, pointing a long thick finger at him. Steve wonders if he got close enough if he’d be able to smell you off of his fingers still, from the last time they’d been plunged inside you. “If I even so much as hear a single fucking thing of you saying her name again or talking about her or.. Or.. you even so much as breathing near her.. I’ll do worse than punch you in that big fuckin' nose again"

Steve smirked at him, keeping eye contact as he narrowed his slightly, licking at his lips slowly and not missing the way the tall metalheads eyes linger on them for a second too long. He felt his cock kick up in his jeans at the mere suggestion of seeing you exposed to him again. He’d have to go deal with that before class. He's sure he has a Polaroid or two of Pam in his bag that he stole from her bedroom the last time he fucked her that he could use as quick spank material.

“Deal.” he said, grabbing hold of Eddie's hand and shaking it, startling the long haired boy slightly. “Just let me know where and when, Munson. If that's all and we’re done here..” Steve said, grinning at him as he leaned down and picked up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder as he patted the metalhead on his own a little patronisingly, making his way over to the door and leaving the room, heading down the hallway to get rid of the now uncomfortable bulge he was packing in his pants.

He had a smug fucking smile on his face the whole way to bathroom, thinking of how he would soon see your perfect body again.

Hopefully you'd love his eyes on you while you're spread out and being made to cum as much as you did last time.

I'd like to thank @elvendria @changemunson and @emsgoodthinkin for their help and encouragement on this chapter. I really REALLY could not have done it without you all, especially Elvendria who had to sit and listen to me have a fucking Menty B over a discord call because of some stuff that's now gonna be in part 3 lmfao.

Banner by me, dividers by @saradika

Taglist: @aol19 @thewillowsareskipping @htycp890 @sllooney @justmeinadaze @inesven @tlclick73 @munsonslure @madaboutjoe @falling-throughthe-hourglass @hazzaismyreligion @jjmaybankswifes-blog @lilianraynne @moonflower1387 @eddiesguitarskills @ancientcrone-blog @dovakinbruh @sameyessblue @love-me-satoru @peach97 @org12 @fireflyislands @5tud10-54r4h @kennzie @myfavoritesareproblematic @emsgoodthinkin @lunakitty2608 @hideoutside @thegothicfox @kelseyms-world @bandaids-n-porcelain

#eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #perv!steve harrington #peeping tom #steddie x reader #steddie x you #steve harrington #steddie smut #steve harrington stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie smut #part 2 #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fanfic #steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #perv!steve #eddie munson is not dead #smut fic #smut fanfiction #smut fanfic

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Steve Harrington x reader | sex in the shower with boyfriend!steve 🧡

You woke to the sound of running water close by. As your eyes blinked open and drifted to the bathroom door, you noticed it had been left slightly ajar. Moist air drifted from inside, along with the woodsy, peppery scent of your boyfriend’s shampoo…

You grinned contentedly, remembering all the ways Steve had made love to you the night before. Stretching your arms and legs under the sheets, you felt a large, damp patch in the middle of the bed, and your smile grew wider. The image of Steve’s face between your thighs lingered in your mind…how handsome he’d looked, covered in your slick from his hairline to his chin. You’d squirted several times in a row as he ate you out, soaking not only Steve but apparently, saturating the sheets beneath you as well.

Memories of last night traveled straight from your mind to between your legs. Your cunt was still puffy and moist from Steve’s efforts the night before. He’d come inside you when he finished, and the combination of Steve’s release and yours was a sticky reminder between your thighs of the cum-soaked state he’d left you in…

You returned your focus to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom, listening to the stream of water shift as Steve’s body moved under it. You decided that waiting any longer for him to fuck you again was not an option. Pulling back the sheets from your body, you tiptoed naked to the bathroom, and gently crept inside. The small room was warm and inviting, the air thick with moisture. You reached for the shower door, carefully sliding it so you wouldn’t startle Steve.

…When his hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you inside with him, a surprised little gasp escaped your lips, quickly followed by giggles as Steve pulled you close. His arms surrounded you in warmth, wrapping around your waist and pressing your chest to his. Steve’s back faced the shower head, droplets of water splashing from his broad shoulders and onto your breasts as he squeezed you closer.

The coarse hair on Steve’s chest looked even darker than usual, matted down with water and just beginning to curl. The friction it caused against your breasts felt incredible. Your nipples perked instantly, rising to meet the soaked nest of hair they were immersed in. Steve didn’t miss the way your eyes fluttered in a soft expression of bliss when he pressed his knee between your thighs, nudging your clit. Steve kept his knee locked there, his muscular thigh wedged flush against your cunt. He could feel your need, the way your pouty pussy throbbed against his skin in time with your heartbeat.

Steve’s lips met yours in a kiss that tasted of rain in the middle of Summer, fresh and warm as it melted between your lips. His tongue played tenderly with yours, gently stroking and caressing into your kiss. Your cunt wept greedily against Steve’s thigh, the evidence of your arousal dripping down his leg, mixing with the water and circling the drain.

Steve’s hands wandered up your back, his fingertips tickling your spine. The gesture made you shiver against him, your nipples perking even firmer, goosebumps dotting your skin. Steve’s lips ventured to your shoulders, kissing the goosebumps away, his fingers lacing delicately through your hair. He rocked his thigh against your cunt, pulling a desperate whimper from your throat.

“Steve,” you breathed, and he nodded in response, water dripping from the ends of his hair. “I know, baby,” he said, sliding one hand beneath your thigh. “You don’t have to say it; I already know…”

Steve lifted one of your legs and wrapped it around his waist, hoisting you up so your knee was bent over his elbow. With his free hand, he reached between your bodies and took hold of his cock. Rubbing his tip between your slick folds, Steve collected a generous amount of your cum on the head of his cock before pressing inside you, filling you whole.

The position gave Steve even deeper access to your cunt than usual; with his body bent slightly at the waist and your leg elevated to the level of his hip, Steve could fuck places inside you that more standard positions didn’t allow.

Your forehead was pressed to Steve’s chest, tears of relief burning behind your eyes as you squeezed them closed. Every upward punch of Steve’s hips hit a place so deep inside you, it felt like you were being stretched open for the first time, like losing a second virginity in part of you that hadn’t previously existed.

Steve’s eyes were glossy, his gaze fixed between your bodies, watching his cock disappear inside you. Your needy cunt swallowed Steve eagerly, sucking him like a vice. His thrusts began to grow desperate in pursuit of his climax, the heady burn of pleasure within Steve at its absolute peak.

With a groan of release, Steve erupted deep inside you, emptying against your cervix and painting your vagina in cum. Immediately after his orgasm, Steve went to his knees in front of you. He shoved his face between your thighs, hungrily probing your pussy. With his tongue buried in your cunt, Steve let you ride him to your own climax. You clutched Steve’s shoulders for support as you humped his face and bounced on his tongue till your orgasm was spilling through you in waves. Steve licked your vagina clean, sucking his cum from between your lips, peppering delicate kisses along your puffy cunt before rising to his feet, and taking you again into his arms.

A warm stream of water and cum dripped between your bodies as you held each other inside the shower. Tilting Steve’s face to yours, you teased his lips apart with your tongue. The sweet, salty flavor of your cum and Steve’s blended together as you explored each other in a deep, passionate kiss. Steve tugged your bottom lip between his, sucking lightly. When he released it, he was smiling, his pretty hazel eyes adoring you. “Let’s dry off and get back in bed,” Steve grinned mischievously. “So I can get you wet all over again…”

#stranger things #stranger things smut #joe keery #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve stranger things #steve x y/n #steve x you #steve x reader smut #steve x reader #steve x y/n smut #steve x you smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader smut #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you #boyfriend!steve harrington #boyfriend!steve #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fic #Steve Harrington fan fiction #bf!steve #bf!steve Harrington

[stvharrngton]

Hii kyrie!! Hope you are doing very well!!

So maybe this is a strange request and it's totally fine if you don't make it, so don't feel pressured love !

So I've been told thru all my life in various types of ways that I'm not pretty or pretty enough, so that has made me so self conscious and I'm just you know aware that I'm not pretty, so I would like to know how do you think steve would react to reader feeling that she is not pretty enough even when she is in a relationship with steve.

It can be smutty or not, what ever you decide is perfect to me love!!!

Ok, bye ily <3

hi my love <3 i'm sorry you feel like that i just know you are super pretty and our stevie would think so too 🥺 i went for smutty i hope that's okay!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, oral (f receiving), p in v, heavy on praise and pet names <3

taglist: @dukesmebby @saturnband @sweetbabygirlsworld

The mirror sat atop your vanity, specks of dust decorating the glass. The reflection staring back at you was one you’d pondered over a thousand or more times, fingers prodding and pulling at the skin of the face in the mirror. Smoothing over the freckles and blemishes, rubbing at the circles below the eyes.

The reflection was yours, your face, your eyes, your hair and your nose. Your features that you’d come to think about more often than not. When Steve found you sat in front of the mirror, in nothing but your bra and a pair of soft cotton shorts his brow furrowed.

He called out for you when he walked into your quiet home, “Baby?” bottom lip jutting out when he was answered with silence. He reached your bedroom with a quiet knock on the door as he called out your name. Steve entered your room timidly when he was met with your figure in front of the mirror.

“Baby?” He asked quietly, “Everything okay? You never answered me.”

Steve came to stand behind where you sat, hands gentle and warm on your shoulders as he watched your face in the mirror. Your expression blank, like your mind was busy with a hurricane of thoughts. The words that spilled out from your mouth hurt Steve like a knife to the chest.

“Steve, am I pretty?”

The boy stood there dumbfounded, mouth hanging agape with his brows pinched together. He leant in next to you, so his chin was on your shoulder, his face next to yours staring back through the mirror. Steve pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, his lips sweet and gentle on your skin.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the whole world, baby, you know that.” Steve watched you carefully in the mirror as your eyes raked over your body, your lips downturned into something sad, “What’s this all about?”

“I don’t think I’m pretty enough-” you sighed, lips pursed together as you tried to ignore the feeling of Steve being so close to you, “not pretty enough for you.”

“What?!” Steve protested, turning his head to face your profile, “that’s crazy, sweetheart. You know I think you’re beautiful, hm?” Another kiss pressed to your cheek, “So hot and sexy, my sweet girl,” his voice was lower this time, lips encasing the shell of your ear, “how ‘bout I show my girl just how pretty she is, huh?”

Your skin erupted in goosebumps, heat rising up your neck as Steve’s words went right to your core. His lips travelled lower, teeth nipping at your earlobe as he pressed sweet kisses on your neck.

“You got the most beautiful eyes, baby,” Steve started, his hands moving to hold your waist, “so dreamy and your nose? Shit, you got the cutest nose I’ve ever seen.”

His lips followed the curve of your neck to your shoulder, a hand dancing up over your stomach, ghosting over the material of your bra and to your face. Steve let his thumb swipe over your plump bottom lip.

“And baby that smile of yours,” he groaned lowly when you sucked his thumb between your lips, “makes me weak at the knees and I wish I could set your laugh as the sound on my alarm clock.”

You hummed a laugh at his cheesy compliment, Steve sporting a wide eyed grin in return. “See? You’re beautiful,” Steve whispered, tone low and rasp as his fingers found the material of your bra again, working their way round to the clasp.

The contraption dropped to the floor with one fell swoop, freeing your breasts from their confines. Your breath hitched in your throat as the cool air hit your skin, nipples erect and Steve’s for the taking. His large hands cupped your tits, gently squeezing the flesh as his thumbs rolled over your nipples.

You mewled quietly, a soft little whimper tumbling past your lips as Steve took his bottom lip between his teeth, lips coming to your ear once more, “And these pretty tits are so perfect, can’t get enough.”

Teeth nipping at your neck, hands still caressing your tits, Steve ushered you up from the chair, pressing your body into the vanity desk. He pressed himself into your back, the soft material of his shirt scratching at your body, the bulge beneath his jeans felt against your ass.

Steve kept one hand pressed to your chest, the other wandered down your front, a quick squeeze to your hip as he slid his fingers between your ass and his front. Pushing your shorts to the side, Steve ghosted his fingers over the lace covering where you wanted him most, the small wet patch beneath his fingers making him take a sharp intake of his breath.

“And this pretty little pussy of yours,” Steve cooed, fingertip teasing at your entrance, “she’s just the sweetest thing, isn’t she?”

“Steve,” you whined, rolling your head back to rest on Steve’s shoulder. The feeling of his finger barely pushing into your hole driving you insane, your body white hot all over and he was just getting started.

“Come on, pretty girl,” Steve encouraged, “tell me what you want, use your words.”

Your eyes fluttered closed at the dirty words he spoke, feeling your arousal poole at your core. You pressed your ass out into Steve’s hands, desperately trying to fuck yourself on his finger. Steve chuckled cruelly at your actions, teasing as he removed his finger from your cunt.

“Steve, please,” you begged, “anything, baby, please just touch me.” You pleading never went a miss with Steve, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips as he dropped to his knees.

Fingers curling around the waistband of your shorts and panties, the material soon dropped to the floor around your feet. Steve peppered kisses up the backs of your thighs, his large hands grabbing the flesh of your ass, pulling and squeezing. Steve pulled you apart, revealing your pussy to him.

Wet and ready for whatever Steve was going to give you, he groaned at the sight of you. Slick covering your pussy, smeared across your plush thighs. He pressed a single kiss to your hole, lips pouting as he gripped your ass.

You moaned loudly at the gesture, eyes fluttering closed as Steve began to move his lips and tongue in tandem. You felt him groan from behind you, the vibrations rumbling through your pussy, your thighs clenching involuntarily. The sounds that filled the room were pornographic, dirty, filthy. Slurping and sucking, licking and kissing.

If there’s one thing that Steve Harrington knew how to do, it was eat pussy like his life depended on it.

Steve grabbed harshly at your ass, his palm coming down against your cheek, a yelp echoing off your bedroom walls. Steve groaned into your pussy at the noise, his cock straining beneath his jeans at the pretty little gasps and whimpers that were serving as music to his ears.

“You taste so sweet, baby.” Steve cooed, “so fuckin’ good.”

You fell to the desk below you, unable to keep yourself up any longer. The pleasure coursed through you like lightning, a sharp flick of Steve’s tongue over your clit sent you over the edge.

“Uh uh, baby,” Steve uttered, “keep those pretty eyes on that mirror.” One hand left your ass, the distinct sound of the metal of Steve’s belt clinking, the leather slapping against itself, “Want you to see how pretty you look when you cum.”

You wailed as Steve never stopped the movements of his tongue, your slick totally covering his mouth and chin you were sure. Eyes shooting open, gaze fixated on yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were hazy, your lips red and bitten. The sound of Steve’s denim being shoved down his thighs rang loud in your ears, the jostle of his wrist as he fisted his cock felt as he buried his face in your pussy.

The beginnings of your orgasm rocked your body, your cheeks heating up as your jaw went slack. The muscles in your stomach and thighs began to clench, your moans and whispers of Steve’s name turned into incoherent mumbles. A jumble of praise and ramblings of how good Steve was making you feel the only things you could muster.

“Stevie, ‘m gonna cum, fuck–” you cried, fingernails digging into the wood of the vanity, “please, don’t stop, baby.”

“That’s my girl, come on, baby, let it go,” Steve groaned, palm slapping against your ass as he sucked and licked at your clit, “keep those eyes open, honey.”

The coil in your stomach snapped, your body hot and cold all over, your eyes wide and pupils dilated as you stared at yourself in the mirror, watching yourself cum with your boyfriend’s face buried inside your cunt really was a sight to behold.

Your body writhed against the table as Steve continued to lick at you all soft and slow, drawing out your orgasm until you were crying at the overstimulation. His own fist had since slowed, pumping his cock at a fragile pace, teasing himself like you often would.

When he finally removed his mouth from your pussy, you exhaled a sigh of relief, body slumping against the wooden desk. The quietness of your bliss all but lasted momentarily as you heard Steve groan from behind you.

Fingers still wrapped around his stiff cock, eyes glued to your sticky pussy as your juices mixed with Steve’s saliva dribbled down your thighs. You stuck your ass out for him to see, as if inviting him to slip inside you.

“Steve–”

“Baby, fuck,” he groaned, eyes rolling back as he spoke, “I gotta– shit, I gotta see your face when I cum, please?”

You gnawed on your bottom lip as you spun around, Steve still on his knees, gaze fixated on your lower half. The boy shot up in a flash, hands immediately cupping your cheeks, lips crashing against yours. The kiss was hungry, fervent, Steve having worked himself up into a frenzy.

He picked you up from where you stood, your legs wrapping around your waist, arms slung over his broad shoulders. Steve laid you down on the soft sheets, hands reaching to rid himself of his shirt, shuffling out of his jeans and boxers.

His larger frame towered over you, soft kisses peppered all over your flushed face as his forehead came to rest against yours, his gaze flickered down between your bodies as he pushed himself inside you, cock in hand.

Steve moaned loudly, all high pitched and pretty. A gruff ‘fuck’ trembled past his pink lips, giving himself a minute to billow in the feel of your warm pussy around his cock. The stretch of Steve’s cock was one you had grown to love, the initial sting a sinful pain you craved.

It wasn’t long before he was bottoming out, hips moving hard, cock stroking deep inside your walls, “Fuck, baby, ‘m not gonna last long, shit–”

“Oh, Steve,” you breathed, skin dewy and hot, Steve’s cock stroking your special spot just right. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your heels digging into his tailbone as he rolled his hips into yours over and over again, desperately chasing his own climax.

“My sweet girl,” the boy moaned, a throaty rasp, his hair wild, “you’re so pretty,” he babbled, “so fuckin’ gorgeous. My beautiful girl. So good f’me.”

Steve’s word vomit of praise was endearing, you were sure tears would be lining your lashes if he wasn’t fucking the breath out of your chest right now. He grappled your hands away from his shoulders, fingers interlocking as he held them at the side of your head, lips falling into place with yours as his hair began to fall out of place.

He was on the cusp, you knew that, could tell by the words he was moaning, the way he squeezed your hands so tight, how he kissed you as if to stop himself from wailing out your name.

He fucked his cock into you harder, deeper. You moaned his name into his mouth as he kissed you, a sweet gasp only spurring him on. You felt him twitch inside you, thighs clenching as he whined, “Oh, baby, oh fuck—,” gaze fixated on your fucked out features, “gonna cum, shit—“

As soon as Steve felt your walls clench around his length he was a goner. Hot cum spurting from his tip, pairing your walls as he groaned out your name. Curses fell from his tongue like a chant as his orgasm washed over him.

Chest heaving and breath heavy, Steve whined as he rode out his high. Eyes squeezed shut tightly as he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in the soft skin of your neck.

He hissed and grunted as soon as he pulled himself away from you, rolling over to lay next to you on the bed. Steve pulled you into his chest, thick ringlets of hair matted with sweat as he lay spent.

Steve let his lips rest on your temple, a gentle squeeze to your shoulder as he spoke,

“Prettiest girl in the world, baby, y’hear me?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #k.fic #request #apparently i am incapable of writing anything less than 1k words

[nervoushottee]

Illicit Affairs | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You wish you were enough for Steve, but he will always want Nancy. 

Warnings: cheating trope, reader is the other woman, Steve is a cheater, angstttt, very minimal sexual themes, drinking

Note: hey hottees! Back with another Steve fic! Was in the mood for some angsty Steve drama and wrote this in one sitting a few nights ago so there limited editing. Hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist

(To get into the mood of the story, it helps to listen to Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift while reading)

You wish you could see this part of him more often than you do. You wish that you could do this during the day instead of the middle of night. You lay in his bed, still naked underneath the sheets from the actions a few hours prior. 

Steve sleeps next to you, snoring softly in the middle of the night as you count the many freckles on up his arms and down his back. Tracing your thumb faintly against his bottom lip, feeling the breath against your skin as he sleeps. He looks peaceful, serene and happy as he holds you tighter in his arms. 

It shouldn’t have gone this way, it shouldn’t have gone like this. You shouldn’t be the other woman who sneaks glances and short kisses. You didn’t want these moments only to be seen behind closed doors. 

When Steve kissed you that night during the small bonfire party. You thought that was it, you thought you and Steve were finally going to be something. The constant push and pull between you both. From the King Steve days before Nancy and after her. From your few exes that all turned to regret and dumb decisions. From blind dates to one night stands in the end the two of you always find each other again. 

Steve was there to pick you up when you faked an emergency to get out of shitty dates. You comforted Steve when Nancy broke his heart. He held you in his arms when you got cheated on.  Best friends weren’t even the right term to describe it. You and Steve both knew it was more than that. Hell, even Robin could see it. 

So when everyone had run into Lovers Lake for a tipsy late night swim, you had got out early to warm up by the fire before going home. Steve saw you, gave you his dry sweatshirt and offered to drive you home. You declined but agreed to let him walk you to your car. 

The two of you talk like usual, not so subtly bumping into each other and staying as close as possible against each other as you walk. Steve makes a joke about not getting his precious hair wet when you ask him why he hadn’t gotten in the lake. It makes you laugh and push him away playfully. 

You get to the driver seat of your car and the two of you stand so close to each other. The moon and the stars watch you both in awe of your ¨will they or won't they¨. You could blame it on the one beer you had two hours before. Or the fact that it was getting late and you were pretty tired already. But you know that would be a lie. Something happened that night, something felt different in the air. Maybe it was Steve’s smile, or how he looked down at you with his eyes low. 

You forgot about everything rational and logical as you placed your wet hand on his cheek and kissed him. 

It was a quick ever so soft kiss.  

When you moved away you thought you would feel a pit in your stomach. A sense of regret from that small yet intimate gesture. But there was nothing there. No ounce of fear or embarrassment. And when you saw the small smile grow on Steve’s face, you knew he felt the same thing. 

He kissed you a lot harder. Both of his hands against your cheek as he presses his lips on yours. He tasted of chocolate and smoke. He was warm like the fire as he wraps his hands around your cold waist. The two of you stay that way for a minute or so before separating. With a smile you ask Steve if you’ll see him tomorrow, and instead of response, he simply kisses you again like it’s second nature. 

The drive home felt magical. The windows down, your hair still a bit wet from the lake as you drove home on the empty roads. You were happy and kissing Steve felt right and long overdue. 

You went to sleep that night with a smile on your face and woke up with one the next morning. It grew even wider when you heard the one, two, three knocks on your door. With a small skip in your step you open the door excitedly. That excitement goes away when you see Steve with his head down and his hands in his pockets. He looks up and tries to greet you with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. You try to ask him if he’s okay but he dodges your question and asks if he can come in. Steve’s never forward with you. He comes to your house when he pleases and vice versa. He never needs an invite or a request. Despite the small ounce of worry forming in your stomach, you nod your head and Steve enters.  

He heads to your kitchen and puts both hands on the countertop. His back is towards you and his head leans down. It almost looks like he’s going to be sick with how he looks in front of your sink. 

“Is everything okay?” You ask shyly. 

Steve doesn’t respond immediately, which causes the worry to grow larger and larger with every silent second. Finally to your relief, Steve speaks. 

“After you left last night, Nancy talked to me about some things.” He tells you. His back still turned but his head raised as he looked out your small kitchen window. 

“Yeah?”, urging him to go on. The worry grows fiercely now when you hear “Nancy” leaving his lips.

He finally turns around to you, crossing his arms and leans back against the counter he was just hunching over. Despite seeing him now, his eyes don’t meet yours. He looks at his shoes, your fuzzy socks you wear at home, even the old kitchen tile. “She-uh” he scratches his eyebrow, a small thing he does when he’s nervous and hesitant. 

“What did she ask you out or something?” You say with a small laugh. You try to say it as a joke, but deep down it's a question you ask to finally put the worry to rest. But when Steve finally looks up at you immediately after you ask,  you know that your joke was his reality. Fuck. 

“She said that she wanted to try again. Asked if I wanted to.” Steve tells you softly. 

You try not to scoff at what you hear. Despite your worry and the big wave of heartbreak that’s about to rush over you if you know any better. You can’t help but go into bestfriend mode and get upset about Nancy acting like Steve still doesn’t love her. That he wouldn't sit and roll over if she asked him to. The many years you’ve been friends with Steve, you’ve never seen him love someone has fiercely and wholeheartedly as he does with Nancy. Despite them being apart you know Steve would prefer it a different way. 

You force the anger down your throat  like a large pill and try to keep the many emotions you feel from surfacing.“And what did you say?” You ask him quietly. 

He doesn’t speak again, but he doesn’t have to. His eyes tell you all you need to know. It’s filled with guilt and apologies. Filled with a need to hold you and kiss you all the same.

 “Oh.” you respond. Instinctively,  your arms wrap around your waist as best as they can. In an attempt to comfort yourself. You try to force the tears away as you blink at them harshly. 

“I understand.” You tell him. And you do. You know that you didn’t stand a chance against Nancy Wheeler. She was beautiful, smart, kind and determined. Who wouldn’t want to be with her? You knew if Steve was ever given the option to try again with Nancy. If he was with another girl or guy and she wanted to give it another go, he’d say yes in a heartbeat. So what made you any different?

You didn’t notice that you were  crying until Steve pointed it out, walking to you quickly to wipe them away from your cheek. You should push him away. You should tell him to go to Nancy and that you will be fine. That the kiss from last night was because you were drinking and alcohol made you feel warm and affectionate. But you didn’t, you let him wrap his arms around you and kiss your head repeatedly. You let him tell you soft praises of comfort as he slowly rocks you both, back and forth. And you let him kiss you in the middle of your kitchen. Your lips wet with tears as you hold on fiercely on the bottom of his shirt. 

That was one of the first many nights of his affair with you. Of you being the only woman. There were no rules or decisions made of how it was going to be. The two of you just fell into a rhythm of loving each other quietly. Steve would come to you in the middle of the night with a knock on your door. You would use the key hidden beneath the daisy plant and slip inside his bed next to him. 

Nancy never slept over at Steve’s, he would only spend the night at hers. You don’t know why you had asked the question one night after hours of ecstasy and bliss. The sweat on your skin slowly drying from laying together naked in the sheets. Steve’s fingers tracing up and down against your back when he tells you. “I don’t let Nance in here. We don’t do anything here.”

Meaning he doesn’t have sex with her here. She doesn’t moan his name like you do against his sheets. She doesn’t sleep in the spot you’ve marked as your own in his bed. She doesn’t wake up in the middle of night to use his bathroom or place her toothbrush in the same spot you leave yours. You don’t know if his confession makes you feel better or worse. Because you know it will happen sooner or later. 

And one day, you’ll put an end to this. One day you’ll stop. Because you know it's not fair.  

Not to you or to Steve or even Nancy. But you know the day you tell Steve to choose, that you’re not going to like his answer. You won't be his first choice. You never were. And if you hear him say it, it will all feel too real. You don’t think you’d  have the heart to stay around any of them after that. Your heart is  shattered already and Steve is holding the pieces right in front of you with the glue in his pocket. 

So you tell yourself that you’ll ask him tomorrow. And then tomorrow comes and you put it off for the next day. And the cycle goes on and on and on and on because you only just got Steve.

You’re not ready to let him go just yet, even though he’s not really yours in the first place. 

#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve stranger things #steve x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington angst #steve angst

[carolmunson]

always something there to remind me (s.h.)

summary: ten years after the sealing of the upside-down, you and your fiance steve head to a cookout to unwind during memorial day weekend. with steve on edge after a rough half sleep full of night terrors, you hope the day can be salvaged by seeing the party and just relaxing, but a violent thunderstorm changes those plans for the worse. pairings: steve x reader, lumax, edancy. heavy on the steddie brotp tho.

tw: 18+ as always. this story deals with themes of mental illness and ptsd, it is only intended for mature audiences. descriptions of ptsd flashbacks, internal and external (please be advised they are dramatizations). partner violence (unintentional). drinking/smoking. discussions of mental illness. very moody steve but very soft steve. features some tense arguments. smut, like, very loving and passionate smut. this relationship is not perfect, it's also a depiction of a moment in time in 1997. the emotional load was very much a woman's job and i personally think steve would be 'too proud' to be 'too soft' about his stuff. so there are parts that seem kind of 'eh' but -- that's just how things were sorta. gif by @kingofscoops

His pill case sounded like a rattle when you took it from the medicine cabinet, taking it into the kitchen where he was shrugging on his freshly ironed polo. The ironing board and hot iron still set up by the counter. The black stone contrasted nicely against your cherry wood cabinets that he installed two summers ago. That was when you both thought he might be getting better: the night terrors were less and less frequent, the flashbacks far and few between, he was less tense, less irritable. Seeking you constantly for soft touches and kisses, any kind of affection he could pull from you he'd take willingly. Two years ago was your two year anniversary -- when he finally told you the real story. Why he had all those scars, why he can't sleep, why he wakes up in a cold sweat crying. Why you'd never been able to figure out which health care company was providing him with so much medication and therapy when he was working part time at the hospital -- it's because it was the FBI.

It was two years ago where they took you to an underground office where they told you everything. Steve sat next to you, gripping your hand so tightly you thought it might break. They reassured over and over that nothing was coming back, that everything was over, but that Steve and his friends will likely never recover emotionally and mentally from what they endured. Four years into things now, you were both his fiance and his nurse. You checked in monthly with his caseworking team, but in these last few months, they've had nothing but shaky reports. You wondered if maybe his mind just isn't as sharp as it used to be -- you both just entered your thirties, maybe things get knocked loose quicker when you've been to hell and back. "Here, honey," you say softly, putting his pill case on the table. He looks at them and sighs, amber eyes lingering on the 'Saturday' section of the pill box. "Let me get you some wa--" "You don't need to give me my pills every day," he says -- it's soft and sharp, "I know I have to take them. I've been takin' them for ten years."

You offer him a tight smile, "I know, Stevie..." You trail off. 'It's important that he feels in control of the situation, a lot of his role when he was in this situation was to protect others. Try not to baby him about it, he might be fragile, but he doesn't like to feel like he is.'

"It's just...I don't want a repeat of last year," you quietly remind him. He had gotten too sure of himself when he started to feel better -- missing days, stopping altogether, off and on.

He reaches for the pill case and pops open the Saturday square, tossing the main five pills into his palm and then into his mouth. Pain, anti-depressant, anti-anxiety, migraine, blood thinner. The heavy stuff sat in the cabinet above the fridge: Quaaludes, Oxycontin, Sumatriptan, Clozapine -- among others. Every day was a reminder to him that he didn't come out of this a stronger person. His dad let him know that at every visit, treating him like he had a son made of glass. "Don't," he says after he swallows, "Don't start with me."

Your eyes narrow in on the finger he puts up in warning and travels down to his big hand, a vein popping in his forearm and under the band of his watch. His bicep flexes against his polo, you follow it across the expanse of his chest and down the other arm, landing back on the pill case.

You knew last night what kind of day it would be this morning. Desperate reaches for you while he woke up from another nightmare, his damp chest up against yours while he hid his face in your neck. He hugs you so tightly to him so he doesn't float away, and you match his strength as best you can until he falls back asleep. Sometimes it takes hours of stroking his hair and soothing him before he feels safe enough to even close his eyes. In the years you've been together, he's been more and more embarrassed over these needier nights. 'It's just, baby -- I'm a man. I have to get over all this shit.'

"I'm not starting anyth--" "You are," he warns, eyes narrowing. He clenches his jaw, "Don't."

"M'sorry," you breath out. You take the pill case when he sets it back down and bring it back upstairs to the main bathroom. You refill the case before placing it back in the medicine cabinet with a sigh. When it closes you look at yourself in the mirror, no longer the fresh 26 year old he met at the hospital admin desk when he started his part time job as an assistant in the children's psych floor. Gaining hours towards getting his pediatric therapist licensure to help kids who were like him and his friends -- well, sort of. To some extent. You smooth over your button down dress, his favorite one in your closet -- navy blue with beige flowers littering the fabric. It flounces over you in dips and swoops, falling just under your knee. Another sigh and you grab your purse from the bedroom and slip on your sandals, clip clopping down the stairs where you hear him grab the keys. Another Saturday morning where the group gets together and just hangs out, even though Steve sees Eddie, Rob, and Dustin pretty often throughout the week. They've been doing it for years now, but the outside buzzed with the promise of summer, Memorial Day weekend making everyone feel more at ease. Everyone except Steve.

He slams the car door when he gets in the drivers seat, making you jump in the leather of his Lexus. He runs his hands over his jean clad thighs, having grown in size over the last six years with age and trips to the gym. 'I just wanna be in like, peak physical condition if anything tries to come back. I wanna be more ready than when I was a kid, y'know?' And while the muscle was certainly titilating, it made for a very wary you when things went left. "Don't be like that, Stevie," you say softly, your voice calm and gentle like it is with patients on the floor, "I promise I wasn't trying to get on your case. Do you -- I don't know, do you wanna just stay home?" "No," he snaps, looking ahead toward the road as he starts the car, "I didn't pack a cooler full of all the shit you made for this cook-out just the stay home." "Can you relax?" you ask a little harsher than you planned, "Are you even good to drive?" "I'm good. To drive," he says through gritted teeth, pulling down the street. "Are you sure? 'Cause -- Honey you -- you didn't sleep so good last night and I --" He hits the breaks hard, stopping short at a stop light turning to look at you, tilting his head a bit to glare at you down the slope of his straight nose.

"Drop it," he says, the tenseness in his voice sends a chill up your spine. "Stevie I'm not trying t --" "Drop. It." he warns again, "Don't make me raise my voice at you." "Don't talk to me like that," you say sharply while he pulls the car forward when the light turns green. "Then don't talk to me like I'm a fucking child," he snaps back. "Well maybe if you didn't have an attitude with me like one I wouldn't have to," you cross your arms over your seat belt and huff. He shakes his head slowly, tongue tight between his teeth. He thought he knew better than to fall in love with someone who had a tongue as sharp as his. "You're askin' for an argument when you say shit like that to me," he says lowly, the Lexus crunching over helicopter seeds while he navigates through the neighborhood. You see his shoulders rise and fall while he attempts to steady himself -- fuse lit and ready to blow. "I'm sorry," you follow up, a deep breath filling your chest. You uncross your arms to lean your elbow on the edge of the window, resting your cheek in your hand, "I didn't mean that." "You did," he responds, tight and frustrated, quiet. He hastily reaches into his back pocket with one hand, eyes still on the road. Steve pops a cigarette between his full lips and you sigh at the sound of the lighter flicking. “What’s wrong now, hm?” he asks while the cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth, “What’s your problem?” “Nothing,” you say – it’s something. He takes a drag and blows the smoke out the open window, “It’s just that you bought that pack yesterday and it’s already half way gone. You always chain smoke when you –” “Give me a fucking break,” he snaps, voice raising with each word, “God, can you let me have fuckin’ anything?” “No Steve, I guess not. God forbid I look out for your heal–” you start sarcastically. “Look out for yourself, baby,” he says sharply into the rearview so you can see his glare, “I’m doin’ just fine without you on my back.” You bicker the rest of the way to Ed and Nancy’s house, he only raises his voice one more time. 

Eddie and Nancy's wedding was one for the ages, something about the mixture of straight laced and all over the place that made sense when they tied the knot. The pair, you were told, seemed unlikely until Eddie was in recovery after being removed from the Upside Down. He was down there for six months, tested on for another six. The Party and the older kids would visit him every day, keeping him updated and fed and hydrated. They'd cheer him on when he made advances in his mobility -- but for the most part he just needed rest. Nancy was working a lot, throwing herself into journalism like she always wanted, so she'd come to the hospital late. She wasn't really one for small talk so instead, she'd just read. She'd read aloud while he was asleep, her voice slow and calm -- stoic. Keeping him lulled like still water, she didn't even know if he knew she was there. One night, she picked up where she left off on the first installment of Lord of the Rings, continuing in her soft stoic voice. She watched him lay there with his eyes closed, breath steady, the beeps of the hospital machines in quiet rhythm with him. She at frist felt silly before she started, but maybe in his dreams he could hear her, and maybe just maybe if she does something fun, he won't have nightmares tonight. So she tries it...she puts on a silly voice for Samwise, and she continues with her silly voices. Gruff and manly for Aragorn, gleeful for Sam, some weird form of Scottish for Gimli. She bites her lip, smiling as she tries each one, shaking her curly head at her ridiculousness and stops. Then she hears it...the low rumbling giggle from Eddie in his hospital bed. "Keep going, it's funny..." he said with a grin, eyes still closed. "You can hear me?" she asked, trying to stifle her giggle. "I can hear you every night," he said, eyes peering open slightly, "It's the best." "Do you want me to keep reading?" she asked with a blush. He nods, a soft grin pulling up on his lips while he eyes closes again, "Only if you do the voices."

When you park in the driveway it's clear that the rest of the group arrived before you, their cars already Tetris'd into their places. Steve lugs the cooler out of the back seat with a grunt, hoisting it to rest on his broad shoulder. You roll your eyes at his machismo, like someone is watching him at all times and he has something to prove. You both walk to the back, the sounds of music and conversation and laughter bubbling louder and louder as you get to the gate of the yard.

A symphony of 'Heeeyyy!' and 'There he is!' and 'Finally!' come from the group as he opens the gate and you follow in toe. Eddie comes over quickly to help with the cooler, his hair still as long as it was when he was 20 – the only real updates being his five o’clock shadow and the ring in his nose. A few more weary tired lines by his eyes. His home made Iron Maiden muscle tee had a small sweat mark by the neckline – they must’ve been out here getting ready all morning. “Hey man,” he grins when the cooler gets set down, pulling Steve in for a tight hug. “Hey,” Steve smiles, patting his back hard, savoring the hold. “You alright?” Eddie asks when he lets go, putting a hand to his face, “You feeling okay?” Steve smiles tightly and nods but Eddie only half buys it, returning his look before turning to you. He comes forward, kissing both your cheeks with his full lips, scruff scratching at your skin, “Hi, sweetheart.” “Hi Ed,” you grin, watching everyone else come up to say their hellos. “Where’s Nance?” Steve asks, but his question is answered when she waddles out of the sliding door of the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade. From the back, you’d have no idea she was seven months pregnant, but from the side – let’s just say, it was gonna be a real big boy. “Honey, what did I say?” Eddie calls out, walking over to her and taking the pitcher. “It’s not even heavy,” she chides back with an exasperated eye roll. You giggle at their bickering, listening to their sweet back and forth with a gentle ache in your chest. You wonder if Steve will be the same way when you’re pregnant. You wonder if the back and forths will sound so sweet, so innocent, so soft. Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the cooler opening, turning to look and grab what you can to put in the fridge inside. Steve takes the meat out to put by the grill and a few appetizers that you put together last nice. You take the icebox cake and chocolate covered strawberries, hurrying with them through the sliding door into the kitchen. “I know, mommy just thinks she can do it all,” Eddie coos, resting his hands on Nancy’s stomach while she slices cheeseburger toppings on the counter, “She just won’t rest, are you gonna be like that too? You gonna run me ragged? You gonna be just like mommy?” Nancy laughs and it’s half airy, half from deep in her belly, “Look, it’s just better if I’m active so that I’m not surprised by it when he’s born.” “I know,” he says, kissing her cheek, “I know. You still love me, Wheeler?” “Love you always,” she grins, blushing when she sees you come in with desserts, “Oh! Oh my goodness, let me help you!” “I got it!” you say, “Just hope there’s room in the fridge!” When everything’s loaded up you give each other a hug, watching as Eddie and Steve have a mildly stern conversation about who is grilling what. ‘It’s my grill.’  ‘And? It’s my meat.’ 

“Do you think they should just kiss?” you ask while you watch them. “Honestly, I feel like they need to at this point," she laughs, "Go on outside, I’ll be out in a few,” Nancy encourages and you make your way back out into the very early summer heat – mugginess starting to soak the air around you. Before you know it, you’re already being pulled over to the picnic table to watch a game of Magic the Gathering between Lucas, Max, Dustin, Mike, and Will. El doesn’t come back to Hawkins very much,so you’ve been told – she’s the only person from the group you haven’t met. “So is this like D&D?” you ask, resting your cheek against your palm while you lean on the table. “Yes and no,” Max explains, looking at her options, “It’s like…” “Like poker but D&D,” Dustin says, making Mike, Will, and Lucas snort. “I think that’s the easiest way to explain it to you,” Mike says. “I trust that,” you laugh with them. You’ve been consistently hopeless with trying to learn the mechanics of Dungeons and Dragons but still enjoy watching, loving it more when Steve decides to join a campaign. He lets loose in ways you’ve never seen when he does, smiling and laughing, free like a child in the summertime. The sun beating on your back suddenly disappears when you hear Steve come up behind you with a hand on your shoulder, “Can I have my glasses, honey?” “They’re in the glove box,” you say, turning around, “Why do you need them?” “Oh, is Erica making you read her thesis outline?” Lucas asks, “Just tell her to buzz off. She already passed it in.” “Sinclair – don’t be an asshole,” Steve gives him a look that can only be described as ‘bitchy’, “She wants some assurance. We need another psychologist in the family, and she’s obviously the only one smart enough to get it done.” “Rude,” Max deadpans, flicking her eyes up at him. “You’re rude, twerp,” he says back, he turns back to you after sucking his teeth, "My glasses?"

“I just said, in the glovebox,” you repeat, a little sharper than you meant to. He lets out a huff through his nose, looking at you like he can’t believe you’d get snippy with him before stomping off toward the gate of the yard. “Is he alright?” Dustin asks quietly, “I saw him on Thursday he just…I don’t know, he seems a little tense.” “He had a bad night,” you explain, toying at a splinter in the wood, “He’ll be okay.” The sun disappears again but not from the expanse of your fiance’s shoulders and chest, but from a thick cloud moving slowly across the sky. The relief from the heat is almost welcomed until you feel the humidity raise a bit in the air – a little too tight, a little too suffocating for your taste. 

The party is in full swing while Meredith Brooks’ ‘Bitch,’ blares from the boom box, Nancy and Max screaming the lyrics with abandon while the boys groan. You smile at how much fun they’re having, the afternoon going smoothly enough that you haven’t had time to notice how cloudy the sky had become. Your eyes linger on Steve, glasses on while looking at Erica’s thesis outline with her on the back porch. He had a pen in one hand and a cigarette in the other, the fifth one in the last hour and a half.  "You got something here," he says to her, tapping his pen while continues reading, "Your argument's really strong -- especially about the rates of homelessness, it's almost always trauma related." "Well -- I am me," she says. He raises his brows and nods in agreement. "Can't spell America without Erica," he teases. You watch him, how gentle he is and how he taps through outline, asking her questions about how she feels about the finished thesis, where she got it bound, if the articles he sent over were helpful. They speak in words you don't understand, but it's okay -- he looks calmer, brows softened while they talk, so encouraging. "I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother, I'm a sinner, I'm a saint, I do not feel ashamed --"

Eddie's rasp pierces the groups singing and conversation as he belts the lyrics next to his wife. Everyone looks up to watch him go, laughing as he does. "We should cover this," he grins, "Me and the guys, we gotta cover this at the next show." "So you can get boo'd off the stage?" Mike laughs. "So I can make sure your ass doesn't get in the bar?" he asks back. Mike scowls while Dustin laughs at him -- it's always smarter to not try it with Eddie, he'd always get you back ten fold. With a jolt, you feel something cold hit your hand, looking down to see a water drop splat against your skin. Then another, and another, and another. After the fourth or fifth, the rain starts to come down -- and then it starts to pour. "Alright!" Nancy calls, "Everyone grab something and head inside." The Party rises, wincing as the rain pellets down on them while everyone grabs a foil tray or covered Pyrex filled with food. You follow suit, hurrying inside with the undressed cheeseburgers and buns, laying them safe on the counter in the kitchen. Everyone else starts to file in, Steve and Eddie turning off the grill while the sky starts to darken significantly. The first rumble of thunder sends everyone's face to a flat line -- you wished Robin wasn't spending the weekend in New York City so that you'd have someone on the front lines with you and Nancy to keep everyone at ease. Nancy and Robin definitely had their moments but had a much tighter grasp on the world around them now.

A few flashes of lightening crack followed by deep rumbles of thunder. Boom, crack! Boom, crack, crack! You notice everyone resettle themselves around the kitchen table -- jittery, quiet. You sit down across from Steve while he looks down, following the woodgrain with his finger. You keep your gaze on his chest, watching for a tell -- he swallows the frustration he feels from having your eyes on him. "It's alright guys, just a storm," Nancy reminds everyone gently while she brings in the last of the food from outside. Eddie gets her seated before opening things back on the counter, the kitchen smelling like barbecue while he opens the foils. The conversations start around you again while you sit across from Steve, the tension sitting like a weighted stone in your chest. Another flash of lightning and that's when you notice it, the twitch of his hand. The thunder rumbles and he reaches up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger under his glasses. Shit. "You okay, honey?" you ask him softly. He swallows, jaw clenching, "Mhm." "Okay," you nod, trying not to bring attention to it just yet, just incase it passes. The thunder booms again and he lets out a breath through his nose, he takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes more agressively. You tap your foot under the table and he can hear it, he can hear everything in the room -- the scrapes of foil on foil. The separate conversations. Eddie's laugh while he talks to Nancy. The clinks of silverware. Ice in cups. The drumming of fingers. Your tap. Tap. Tap. Tapping. Under the fucking table could you just stop tapping your fucking foot -- The next crack of lightening is so intense it shakes the house and everyone gets quiet. 'Just a storm', Nancy reminds, but her voice sounds far away. Thunder rumbles again in the distance and he swears when the lightening flashes through the windows it's red. He rubs his eyes again, a short burst of breath coming through his nose. 'Honey?' he hears you but its like he has cotton in his ears. The thunder rumbles again, the slick squelching of vines starts to creep into the sound of it. Another crack of lighting and the lights in the kitchen flicker. But when they turn back on Steve isn't with the group anymore. He's not even in the kitchen. He's back at the Creel House. 'Baby? Steve?' your voice is distant -- does Vecna have you? Did he find you? Is he taking you away from him? Steve whimpers, getting out of the chair, pulling at the roots of his light brown locks -- desperate to pull himself out of the memory, "Help, please..."

"I'm here, Steve," you say rounding the table while the rest of the group stands back, getting ready to help. Max grabs a boom box and Lucas runs to his car to grab his tapes with everyone's favorite songs on it -- just in case. Dustin approaches him slowly, hands out in front of him while Steve shrinks to the floor, back against the cabinets. "Steve, it's me, it's Dustin," he says calmly and slowly, "You're in Eddie's kitchen, Steve." But Steve only hears Dustin saying his name -- Dustin must be in trouble. "I'm coming," Steve says, eyes shut tight, falling further away. You watch as sweat grows on his hair line and neck, muttering a fuck under you breath. This was gonna be a bad one. "Honey, honey," you continue, kneeling down in front of him to ease his hands off of his hair, "You're okay, you're safe. I'm with you." 'Honey.' He hears your voice in the distance, searching for you in the blue black haze of the Upside Down, the thick particles of dust in his eyes. The slither of vines covers the walls and the floors while he ascends the stairs -- where are Nancy and Robin? Weren't they with him? "Nance?" You watch him call out for Nancy and she goes to get up but Eddie puts his hand delicately on her shoulder. He shakes his head no at her, "Just talk to him," he says to her. 'I'm here, Steve, it's okay!' 'It's okay!' But it's not Nancy's voice, it gets more an more deep, more gravelly, more like him. Steve flinches in front of you, soft 'no, no, no's slipping from his mouth. 'Stevie...' Where are you? Does he have you? 'S̷T̴E̶V̴I̷E̵.'

The sound of Vecna's voice booms in his ears, the thunder rumbling, the red lighting flashing to light up the house. You were never here -- Vecna tricked him. He breathes hard, looking around while the vines snake around, searching for him. "Okay, okay baby," you say hurriedly, watching him while he starts to hyperventilate. You raise your voice to get through to him, "Honey you gotta take some deep breaths for me, okay? Can you hear me?" Max and Lucas come back, smacking the tape into the radio and fastforwarding until Marc Cohn's Walking In Memphis crackles through the speakers. They both heave breaths while the song plays, leaning over the table to settle down from running. "You hear the song, honey?" you ask, "Can you hear it? Talk to me, Steve." You reach your hands up, sliding slowly up his chest to rest your hands by his jaw in a soothing touch. But for Steve in the Creel House, the vines have found him, slithering up his chest and around his neck, tighter and tighter against the wall. He tenses, big hands coming up and grabbing your wrists with a grip so tight you whimper. "No, shit, shit, shit! Fuck! STOP! NO! I CAN'T!" he panics, gasping for breath while his nails dig into your forearms and drag painfully downward why he tries to pull you away. "Ow, ow baby, hey, you're hurting me," you yelp out. He doesn't stop, eyes switching from tightly closed to open and unfocused while he reaches up to your biceps, clawing at them in defense. You reach out a final time. "Honey, honey, please, it's me," you say, tears balancing on your lower lashes while he rises, taking you with him. He handles you real rough, grabbing you by the shoulders and throwing you to the ground with a loud thud. And god does it hurt.

"HEY!" Eddie's voice booms out, gruff and loud like the rumbles of thunder outside. He gets behind Steve, pulling his arms close to his chest while Steve struggles against him. Erica and Mike hurry toward you to help you slowly up off the floor. You reel at first, wanting to run back to him. "Stay in front of her Wheeler," Ed warns, "You all stay right there." You stand behind Mike with Erica who takes your hand tightly in hers. You feel the pulse of pain in your arms when you look down -- gouges and deep scrapes, the blood shines in the line of the kitchen. You shake your head out of it and watch on as Eddie and Dustin do what they can to help -- the song continues to play in the background. "No, no," Steve whimpers, twisting his wrists in Eddie's grasp to break free, but in this state Eddie is stronger. He pulls him close, Steve back to his chest while they sink back down against the cabinets. "Shh," Eddie soothes, still holding him tight, "We got you, just listen -- you're in my kitchen. You hear the song playing?" Steve grunts, thrashing while Eddie hugs him tighter to him. "Steve, listen, listen to the song," Dustin says, "Focus on me and Eddie's voice, listen." Steve struggles, less intense than before, "Shh, shh, it's okay Harrington," Eddie soothes, rocking him slowly back and forth. "They need me," Steve cries weakly, breaths slowing while he pulls again at Eddie's hold, "Gotta save 'em..." "Steve," Dustin says again, getting closer. He rubs his shoulder slowly, pressing his thumb into the joint, "We're safe, all the kids are safe." "Safe..." he repeats back. Eddie sighs a little in apprehensive relief, letting go of one wrist to run a hand over his head, turning Steve's face into his chest and holding him close. "That's right, Steve," Eddie says softly, "Safe." 'Saw the ghost of Elvis, on Union Avenue, Followed him up to the Gates of Graceland And they watched him walk right through...' Steve can hear the lyrics, warbled and tinny in the Upside Down. 'Safe, safe, safe.' Echoing through the walls -- it gets dimmer. 'Now security they did not see him, They just hovered round his tomb...' Dimmer and dimmer. 'Almost over buddy, I can tell, we're right here. You feel Henderson?' A soft warm rub on his shoulder, the lyrics to the song, Eddie's voice. The sound of vines fade away, he hears the rain, it fades to black. "Walkin' in Memphis..." Steve whispers, half confused, while his eyes open and focus -- squinting in the light of the kitchen. Overwhelmed he looks around while the room tilts on it's axis. He grips Eddie's leg tightly to steady himself, he's breaths picking up again. "It's okay buddy, it's just us," Eddie says again, "You with me?" Steve nods, face cracking while he lets out a broken sob. You can only watch while Eddie flicks his eyes up at you in another warning to not come closer yet. Dustin let's go while Eddie starts to hoist him up, wrapping Steve's arm around his shoulder while he helps him to the guest room down the hall. "C'mon big boy," he says gently, "Let's get you some rest."

Things feel a little quiet after Eddie comes back from the guest room, he's tense -- no longer having fun the way he was before. His eyes are dark while he heads outside into the rain to have a cigarette. Lucas turns off the stereo and The Party sits back down at the kitchen table for a moment to decompress. They silently take out of the Magic the Gathering cards and start to set up again, Erica joins them seamlessly. When things seems a semblance of stable, Nancy gets up and takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, "Let's check you out, alright?"

You sit on the toilet seat cover while Nancy takes out a first aid kit from under the sink. You listen while she hums the climax of Whitney's 'I Have Nothing' quietly, searching the medicine cabinet for some Bactine for your cuts.

"Are you okay?" she asks, taking both of your hands to outstretch your arms, she turns them to see the damage -- she tries to hide her face of disappointment but it's clear.

"I'll be fine," you say softly while she wipes down the gouges and scrapes, "I can take care of it Nance."

"No, you just -- just let me," she says softly. The Bactine stings -- so does the way she looks at you -- pitifully. You hear Eddie's boots clomp down the hallway before he shows up at the door frame of the bathroom.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asks -- you wish people would stop asking. They only ask when they see him lose control. You do this all the time, you take care of him all the time.

"I'm okay," you repeat, "A little banged up, but y'know. It's okay."

"Does he do that alot?" Eddie asks, his jaw clenching, "Does he hurt you a lot?"

"This is one of maybe...I don't know -- four times he's gotten physical with me during an episode," you explain, "And you all know about them."

"Does he hurt you when he's here?" Eddie asks, tapping at his temple.

"No, Ed, don't be ridiculous," you sigh, exasperated that he'd even ask.

"Steve's not like that, Eddie," Nancy says, "We've been over this." "Well, here's the thing Nance," he starts, tense, "We're ten years out of this shit and no matter how bad my shit got I've never put a hand on you like that. Ever." "Eddie --" "No, no, listen," he says, "I don't like that, and I especially don't like that happening in my house in front of my pregnant wife." "And what would you like me to do about it, Ed?" you snap, "I can't -- fuck -- I can't fucking fix him for you." "I'm not asking you to fix him," he says back, a pain deep in his chest coming through with his voice, "I'm asking you to be sure that you still want to be a part of this -- your wedding's what -- October? You really wanna be worrying about this?" "For better or for worse, right?" you ask back, choking on the lump in your throat, "That's the promise." Eddie tucks his lips in, his own eyes getting teary while he scans the gouges that Nancy carefully puts bandaids over. "Ice your hip and shoulder for the first couple days," he mutters, biting the edge of his them, "After a fall like that. Then heat." You nod, quietly murmuring a thank you. "S'what my mom used to do," he says under his breath. Eddie scans you slowly one more time, swallowing hard before pushing off the door frame and walking back down the hall. You hear their bedroom door click closed in the distance. "You know how he gets," Nancy says, "Stuff like that y'know -- that's hard for him." "I know." She takes a washcloth, running it under cold water before squeezing it out. Droplets fall on the fabric of her light purple maternity shirt, leaving dark people marks on the top of her belly. She hands it to you. "Here, for his head," she says softly, "In case he's not all the way back yet."

You creep slowly into the guest room, seeing him laying on his stomach with half his face buried in the pillow. His sculpted arms tucked under it to give him something to hold. "Baby?" you ask quietly, "You awake?" He nods with his eyes closed and you look him over -- big hulking man who needs to be held. He hates it but you can't help but love him for knowing he needs it. You put the wet face cloth on the side table, sliding down next to him while he moves over to his side. In one swift motion you've replaced the pillow -- arms wrapping tight around your waist and up your back, one hand molding over your shoulder. He hides his face in your neck and you can feel his tears on his lashes and cheeks. His shoulders shake while he cries for a while, cold sweat damp on his shirt and the back of his neck. You never check how long he cries for – as long as he does. “I’m here,” you say softly, nails grazing his scalp in a steady swipe, “I’m right here.” You adjust a bit in his hold and you feel his grip tighten slightly, a soft whine of desperation leaking from his throat. “Don’t go, please,” he begs softly. “M’not going anywhere big guy,” you soothe, “This wedding’s already put us ten grand in the hole. Where would I even go, now?” You hear a soft ‘tsss’ come out of him, a tug of a smile against the skin of your neck where he hides. 

“Oh, is that funny?” you joke, still coasting your fingers through his hair. He groans, letting his arms let go of you so he can sit up, you can see the tension in his body still. Steve looks down at you with tear stained cheeks and tired eyes, beckoning you forward with his fingers. You sit up for your thank you kiss, his warm palm cupping your cheek while he holds you gently in place. He kisses once slowly, then twice, three times – holding the last so you know he means it. When you break away he rests his forehead against yours, offering a few shallow breaths. You stand up off the bed while he sits off the edge of it, standing between his thighs. 

"Did I hurt you?" he asks softly. He asks after every episode ever since he did hurt you back when you first started dating. A swift smack to the arm that stung for a solid twenty minutes afterward with the amount of power he put into it. It welted. He cried for hours. He wrote you love letters every day for a week. 

You nod, showing him the scratches and bandages on your arms, "I think you thought I was a vine or something. You threw me. Like, to the ground. It was pretty hard."

His lower lip quivers, "No, no, no." “No, Steve,” you assure, trying to calm him, “It’s okay, you didn’t know. It’s alright, I’m alright. It was an accident.” 

His face contorts while the tears start again, his big hands reach out to your waist, pulling you close to him, "It's not okay, it's not alright."

His voice raises an octave while he cries, "I'm sorry, baby."

"It's okay, Stevie, shh," you whisper to him, he pulls you in tighter, body shaking while pressing his nose against your cheek.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he cries, sniffling, "You know I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't," you say back, your own cry getting caught in your throat. He sniffles again, leaning back to face you, both of his hands cupping your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing the apples.

"I love you," he says with a depth and intensity that makes the lump in your throat give way. You cry with him and it breaks his heart, "I love you so much honey, you know I’d never…"

You nod, trying to calm your cry the way he was able to calm his -- so used to swallowing it up even though you'd beg him not to.

"I – shit – I have to tell you something," he says softly, hands sliding from your cheeks back down to your waist and then your hips. He looks down at the small triangle of mattress between you and the apex of his thighs.

"What's up, Steve?" you ask, running your hands through his hair again soothingly, "What is it?"

He lifts his head up, eyes shutting at the comforting touch, but when he opens them he looks defeated -- guilty, "I haven't been taking my meds at night. I was -- was flushin’ them cause I just -- baby, I don't know. I can't keep depending on this shit."

"Steve."

"I know," he nods, "I know...That's why -- that's why my shit's getting worse."

"You're not just taking this stuff to take it," you say, cupping his cheeks, "It's to keep you here. It's to keep you with me."

"I know," he repeats, voice cracking again, "I'll call my shrink tomorrow I promise. I'll get back on track. Fuck -- I'm sorry -- and I'm -- I'm sorry I was so mean to you this morning."

"It's okay," you nod, pressing a kiss to his forehead. You drop your hands and rub his shoulder, "I think we should go home, alright? We can get on the couch for the night and just rest."

"Okay," he says quietly, nodding. He slowly gets up off the bed, a little dizzy, using you for support. You both slowly walk out of the bedroom, Nancy peeking around the end of the hall.

"Everything good?" she asks.

You smile at her, "Yeah, I think we're gonna head home."

She smiles tightly, heading into the kitchen where the rest of the group still sits, eating and talking. Their heads turn when you both come into view -- soft eyes and smiles.

"I'm okay, guys," Steve nods, barely able to meet their gazes, "It's fine."

Nancy approaches you with a few tupperwares filled with food and dessert, "We'll get the cooler back to you on Tuesday."

"Don't worry about it," you smile, gathering the tupperware in your arms. You watch as the group gets up one by one to give Steve a hug goodbye. Their movements are slow and controlled, warning touches on his shoulders beforehand to remind him ‘It’s just me, it’s just my arms, I’m hugging you’. Soft mumbled words of support, nothing too loud – don’t startle each other. Wraiths of the friendship they all shared earlier. Rehearsed reactions to all of their sensitive needs – if you’ve seen one episode, you’ve seen all of theirs. And you had, once or twice. “I’ll get a copy bound for you,” Erica says while she hugs him. “You make me so proud, Sinclair,” he smiles. Nancy walks you both to the door and you turn, “How’s Ed?” “He’ll call later,” she nods, a look behind her eyes that matches yours. You hug goodbye, share quick reminders about food for the baby shower and a few crafty decoration plans before heading to the car with a very tired Steve. The rain patters on the hood of the Lexus while you both sit in the leather interior, this time with you in the driver's seat. He rubs at his temples with his eyes closed while you rifle through your purse for a sandwich baggie of emergency migraine medicine. “Here,” you say, handing him the pill, “Before it starts to get bad.” “Hmm,” he grumbles in agreement, popping it in his dry mouth to suck it down.  “We’ll be home soon, okay?” you say, hand coming down on his thigh reassuringly, “Just close your eyes for now.” 

He takes the tupperwares when you get out of the car, fishing his keys out of his back pocket while he does. His strides are long while you hurry up behind him, following him into the house only to bump into his back while he’s stopped by the thermostat to turn on the air. “Sorry,” you say softly. “S’okay,” he replies back, barely above a whisper. He puts the food in the fridge while you head upstairs to start a shower, a ritual you’ve both come to learn well after days or nights like these. You take out the good soap, the shower oil, all the aroma therapy you can to get him to ease up. Anyone else watching you get things ready would assume it was about to be a very sexy time for you. On the same coin, these showers are probably the most intimate moments you have with each other. He comes in as the room starts to steam and you help him ease off his polo, you start on the buttons of your dress while he takes off his jeans and socks. He helps with your bra, both of you shedding your underwear at the same time before you step in. Steve soothes almost instantly, his muscles relaxing under the hot stream, sighing further while he gets soaped up. You don’t have to be in there with him, but you do. He needs you so close so he doesn’t float away. His favorite part comes near the end, sitting in the flow of the shower together while you wash his hair. His eyes flutter closed while your nails scratch and massage him – he swears his hair is even thicker than it was before with all the blood flow you encourage. You wash his hair twice, then deep condition, holding him to your chest while you wait the five minutes it takes to settle in. He leaves soft kisses on your collar bone, on all the marks he left on you in Nance and Eddie's kitchen. He holds your hand, so you can’t float away. You both end up on the couch afterward, the leather groaning beneath you both while you lay across the deep seat cushions, you lay on your back, he lays on his side against you. The heat of his bare chest warms you through your oversized sleep shirt. His soft sweat pants tangle up with your bare legs. You let whatever’s on TV play – reruns you guess, you’re thinking about too many other things. “How’s your head, baby?” you ask while his eyes shut, leaning on your shoulder. “S’fine, better,” he says, he lifts your hand and kisses your fingers before placing both his and your hand on your chest over your heart. The ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dum lulling him to sleep. You half watch TV for however long until your own eyelids get heavy. You click off the TV and opt to turn the stereo on low, just so he doesn’t get lost while he sleeps.

You wake up to oldies, music your parents would listen to on records in the living room growing up – songs that came out a few years before you were born. Oldies. It's dark outside but you can still hear the rain. Steve’s already awake, just watching you while his hand smooths back and forth over your sternum. “You snored,” he says. “Good,” you reply quietly. You both snort out breathy laughs, feeling the warmth of his lips as they smoosh against your cheek. “How you feeling?” he asks, hand coming up to rest on your cheek, sliding down the side of your neck. “A little banged up,” you say, “Might bruise.” “M’sorry,” he says again, a tinge of guilty pink tinging his ears. “It’s okay,” you repeat for what feels like the thousandth time in the past six hours. “You looked really pretty today,” Steve says gently, almost sheepish, “I should’ve told you.” “You looked really handsome,” you say back, “But you were kind of being an asshole so I didn’t want to tell you.” “You should’ve told me, it probably would’ve cured my PTSD,” he says seriously but sarcastically, “Could’ve saved the entire afternoon if you just said how good I looked. Prob’ly wouldn’t have had an episode.” “You’re such an ass,” you laugh, smiling. He leans in to kiss you and it’s the kind that makes you too weak to stand. That kiss got him a second date, it proved that they said about old King Steve in highschool. On the stereo, Sherry Baby bleeds into Unchained Melody.

His hand reaches up under your neck to tilt you up toward him, tasting your tongue with his, guiding you with his kiss, “Angel…” he murmurs. He breathes through his nose while he keeps his lips pressed to yours, desperate to stay here in this moment, attached to you. “Steve,” you say softly, breaking away, “Stevie…” “Please,” he whispers, nuzzling your nose slowly, “Please.” “Lemme take care of you.” “I…” your thoughts trail off while he kisses your neck, sucking and nibbling gently at the spot just by the hinge of your jaw. He waits for your soft sigh, the tilt of your hips towards him – your allowance. He grins when he hears the air pass your lips, the realignment of your spine beneath him while he settles between your squishy thighs. His hands travel south, pushing up the hem of your big t-shirt to your waist, holding you there for a moment while his kiss takes over your mouth again. He tugs your cotton panties down, breaking the kiss while he sits up on the couch to slide them off your ankles. Steve looks down at you with an expression that makes your breath catch in your chest, serious – with supple lips, needy eyes. He leads himself back down again, big hands sliding down the sides of your thighs over your hips to your waist again. Instinctively, your legs spring up to wrap around him while his hips align with yours, feeling his strained cock in his sweats against you. “Jesus…” he whispers again, eyes fluttering closed. He buries his face in your neck while you rock slowly against him, the pressure and friction against the underside of his erection sending low volts through his body. “Mm-mm,” he grunts, shaking his head ‘no’ while mumbling, “It’s supposed to be about you.” “Well stop dangling it in front of me then,” you giggle quietly, he giggles too. The smile sends you reeling, his pretty teeth, the way his nose scrunches. He leans forward again to kiss, he just can’t stop kissing, can’t stop tasting your lips, feeling you against him. Steve’s hand reaches down to pull himself out of his sweats, pushing the waistband to the tops of his thighs while he uses the other to push one thigh out off the couch. “You ready f’me?” he asks huskily, tip dragging slowly from the pool of slick at your opening up in between your folds. He lets his thumb run in slow circles over your clit while he waits for your answer, your slow nod while you lean your head back on the arm rest gives him the okay. He eases himself in slow, the tip pushing past your opening with some resistance. “Open up a lil’, honey,” he mumbles quietly while he guides the tip in again, “Open up for me.”

Your little gasps float out of you and into the fuzzy part of his brain, gliding down his spine. You angle your hips upward, one thigh up against the couch cushions and the other dangling over the edge, spread as wide as you can. He holds himself above you with one arm, the other aiding in pushing himself further in, the tip finally breaching your core. He keeps guiding, slow back and forths while you ease open for him – taking him in, inch by inch. “Oh yes, mhm,” he groans to himself softly, “Thass–hmm-that’s it, angel.” He let’s go when he’s three fourths in, crowding over you, forearms on each side of your head while he strokes slowly to start – getting you used to him, accommodating his size. “That’s good?” he breathes. “Ye-yeah,” you breathe back to him. His mouth latches to yours again, feeling him guide your hands up beside your head, lacing fingers while he presses you deeper into the couch cushions. He keeps his strokes slow and deliberate, feeling every ridge of you inside, how you suck him in and hug him tight in place – but how he feels isn’t nearly as important. It’s the way your brows contort, the way you bite your lip, your whines into his mouth while he kisses you. Each slow thrust makes you coat him in a new flow of slickness. “C’mere,” he says into your jawline, letting go of one hand to sneak behind you at the waist, pulling you flush to him. The new angle makes you let out a whine while he hits a spot deep inside you, he grunts at the reaction, the feeling of you taking him in. His pace picks up the smallest tick, face centimeters from yours – your noses brush, lips barely touching while his amber eyes keep steady on yours. You let out short huffs, little whimpers every time the head of his cock pushes deeper with every roll of your hips. “S’nice, hm?” he asks, brows slanting, softening. “Mhm,” you squeak back, “S-so good, honey.” Your legs pull in again, socked heels resting on the top of his butt while he sighs at the change in pressure. “Thassperfect, god,” he hisses out, head dropping down to your chest, pressing sloppy kisses above your breasts while he gathers himself. He groans into your neck while wet warmth tightens over him, soft velvet walls coaxing him closer and closer to the edge. 

Steve’s shoulders flex while he balances on his forearms above you again, your forgotten hand taken by his, fingers interlocked. His face inches from yours while he looks at you, the way your eyes flutter, the soft parting of your lips, the high pitched  ‘Uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn,’s coming out of them — you’re so beautiful.

“So pretty,” he says to you, huffing a breath into a smile, “So pretty, baby.” 

You kiss him a thank you. You see him swallow when he breaks away, his eyes getting glassy. 

“S’gonna be okay,” he assures, nodding down at you, nose to nose, “We’re gonna be okay.” Slow thrusts  between statements. 

“Gonna get married,” he says, a groan flowing right down into your mouth while he kisses you, “Gonna be just like Ed and Nance, right?” 

You nod while his thrusts get more passionate, deeper.

“Yeah? That’s nice?” he asks, “Marry you? Take you just like this after the wedding?” 

“Yeah,” you gasp back, “Yes, Stevie.” 

“Give you a baby?” he asks in a low whisper into your skin, lips pressing against your cheek, his strong nose dragging against your cheek bone, “Give you so many babies. You want that?” 

“I want that,” you nod, face pinching while you feel yourself building up and up in a slow churn. 

“You want that?” he asks again, coming back to hover over you — tears in his eyes, “You want that with me?” 

You nod to each other while he embraces you in an old movie kiss, wrapping himself around you, pressing him to his chest while his thrusts get purposeful, controlled. 

“I love you,” he pants into your ear, “I’m yours, m’all yours.”

“I love you, too,” you rasp back, free’d fingers interlocking in his hair. He gets leverage on his knees, the leather of the couch squeaking under him while he repositions. Soft smacks of skin between you echo in the living room against the backdrop of the low stereo.   “Oh my god, Steve,” you moan out, “You’re – oh god you’re so deep.” “So deep, angel, Christ–” he huffs, trying to make a mental note of this position so he can remember it for October – really make it stick. His thought process stifled when your nails drag down his back, making his passionate thrusts quicken – a signature cocky smirk flick across his lips. “Mmm, that feels good honey?” he asks – he knows the answer. Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, tears glazing over your eyes while he feels you pulse over him. Thank god the couch was leather. Watching you bathe in the afterglow of your orgasm he works you toward the second with ease, chasing his pleasure with each soaking thrust into you – so nice like this, so pliant – his little ragdoll. When he cums it’s deliberate, spilling inside you with your eyes on each other. You give one another breathless kisses, bodies interlocked, sticking to the couch in new found exhaustion. The phone rings. Neither of you get up to answer it. ‘BEEP. You’ve reached the Harrington residence – Did you forget my last name isn’t Harr– If you’re calling before October 1997 then it’s not just the Harrington residence yet but – whatever you know what I mean. Leave a message, we might call ya back.’

“Hey Harrington it’s Munson, um, just making sure you’re okay, man. Sorry I disappeared for a little bit there. Love you, call me back when you can. Bye.” 

thanks for reading. <3

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic

[loveshotzz]

Older!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Part two to a request by @sweetsweetjellybean but the stories not that deep this could be read as a stand alone too. (Link to part one on my masterlist)

Summary: Steve can’t keep his hands off you after last night.

Warnings: 18 +! age gap Steve is in his early 40’s and reader is in her early 20’s. Steve is reader’s best friends dad and he’s a menace in this one, Fingering, dirty talk, breeding kink, un protected p in v sex although reader mentions birth control still (wrap it up!)

A/N: this is my Christmas/holiday present to you or whatever you celebrate, enjoy this kinda holiday fic. This was not suppose to be this long lol, but the whore in me came out for older!steve what can I say? you can blame @newlips for it. She said this would be the last nail in her Steve coffin so naturally I had to do it.

Word count 4.1k

The black lace set looked even dirtier in your hands after last night when you pulled it out of your suitcase. You hadn’t gotten much sleep after he left, your mind too busy replaying the way he split you open from behind and his low grunts of satisfaction vibrating against your ear. It was almost enough to have you touching yourself again with his cum still dripping from your walls. Still remembering his request before he casually greeted his daughter - your best friend, you slipped your red wrap around dress you’d bought especially for this trip over it. The thong left no trace of lines under the smooth material, you hoped he’d notice.

Sheer black tights cover the expanse of your legs leaving you some modesty making the length a little more family friendly, a little more casual, before you finally pad down the stairs to voices in the kitchen.

The smell of bacon hits your nose as you round the corner, the loud pops of the grease breaking over the sounds of his smooth voice as he asks his daughter the usual questions about plans after college. Sitting at the island your eyes catch your best friend’s first, her smile lighting up the room in a way that makes you feel a small pang of guilt deep in your gut. Her boyfriend next to her, lost in the sports section of the paper, just gives you a small wave and a quiet ‘hey’.

“Don’t you look cute for Christmas Eve! Is that a new dress?” The excitement in her voice made it obvious she wanted to change whatever subject was being talked about before you entered the room.

You could feel the heat of his eyes on you, his daughter's comment bringing his attention to your presence. Refusing to look at him you were too scared that one glance would give what had happened last night away.

“You know, after weeks in sweatpants studying till my brains went numb I just wanted to dress up a little.” Your lie sounds almost believable, but you know Steve doesn’t believe it. Not anymore.

“You’ll dress up for Christmas at my Dad’s but not to go out on dates? I’ll never understand you.” Cheeks burning from her comment, the cedar of his cologne alerts you of his presence behind you first. His hand on your lower back, second.

“You look lovely.” It’s almost a whisper as he leans over to set down the plate of steaming bacon, their grease soaking the paper towels underneath it much like the scene in the lace of your panties. Finally allowing yourself to meet his gaze you instantly regret it when your thighs clench together. The small smirk he gives before walking away tells you he caught it.

Breakfast was more than you’d bargained for, Jenny’s boyfriend’s attendance making the normal seating arrangement change. Sitting in your usual place next to her, you found yourself next to Steve who sat at the head of the table. His knee bumping into yours every so often you push the scrambled eggs around on your plate as you try to focus on the sound of her voice. Telling everyone a story you’ve heard a million times it’s hard for you not to fixate on him being so close. His proximity has you squirming in your seat, the throb between your legs making you needy for any kind of friction.

It takes you a minute to register that it’s his fingertips brushing across the material of your tights, his complete and undivided attention on his daughter while he answers whatever question she’d asked. Long fingers push the bottom of your dress up as they make their descent towards the heat radiating from between your legs. When he reaches the thin strap of your thong wrapped snuggly around your hip you press your thighs together to try to block his path. Eyes going big you look up from your plate only to be met with his perfect poker face as he listens to Jenny’s boyfriend talk.

You had no idea what the conversation was about. How could you?

Squeezing at your doughy flesh, his aggressiveness makes you part like the red sea. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth you decide to take a sip of your orange juice, doing everything you can to act normal. Cheeks tingling with the heat of the sun when his fingers reach your dripping covered lips. Feeling how you’ve soaked through both layers, your slick easily coats his skin.

Snorting into your cup when he adds a little bit of pressure to your bundle of nerves, he tries to cover up his groan with a forced cough when he yanks his hand away. He wasn’t expecting it to feel like that. He’d hardly touched you.

Jenny’s too wrapped up in a small argument with her boyfriend to notice the weird behavior, something that happened all the time but you were more than thankful now for the distraction.

Pushing your seat back the need for air and space becomes all consuming, your body vibrating from how turned on it was. You needed to calm down.

“Let me start on the dishes, I can clean Mr. Harrington you cooked. Spend time with Jenny.” Not knowing that calling him that makes his cock twitch now, you pick up the half empty plates not daring to meet his eyes.

“You don’t have to do the dishes!” Jenny argues ignoring her boyfriend in mid sentence.

“Please, it’s the least I can do really. Besides I like cleaning, you know that.” Smirking at her, she was always giving you shit for how reorganizing your drawers and scrubbing walls was your way to decompress.

“This is true, but still I feel bad it’s my house too.” Jutting out her bottom lip in a pout you shoot her down quickly.

“Stop, I promise it’s okay.” Half way out of the dining room you catch his blown out eyes as they zero in on you. The realization he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him was doing things to you that you couldn’t describe, and before you let him bend you over the table in front of everyone you had to escape.

—-

Once the dishes were done, you were in the zone. Organizing the ingredients he’d left sloppily about the kitchen you started the rounds of putting everything back in its proper place. Grabbing the dry ingredients you make your way to the giant walk-in pantry he had, always overwhelmed by how much he could keep in there. It was probably big enough to fit a small bed inside. Eyes scanning his somewhat put together shelves, the sound of their voices draw closer.

“It’s still in the trunk I swear that’s where I put it.” Jenny’s clipped tone catches your attention as her and her boyfriend walk past, him grumbling in response.

“I’m not going out there alone to look, you’re coming with me.” Smirking at how whipped she had him, you knew he was already tugging on his boots.

Reaching up on your tippy toes to put the flour up on the top shelf, the slam of the front door makes you jump at the same time Steve’s body presses flush against yours. Gasping when you feel his hard cock through his slacks push into the folds of your ass, his lips connect with your neck almost instantly. Big hands grabbing at every inch of your body as he ruts himself into you slow enough to feel every inch of him.

“Fuck - Steve, we’re gonna get caught.” The whine in your voice makes your protest sound feeble when he sucks on the delicate spot behind your ear just hard enough not to leave a mark.

Nose nudging against the back of your ear his voice comes gruffer than you were expecting. He wasn’t in control of himself right now.

“We have at least five minutes. Baby you were soaked at the table. Was all of that for me?” Hand reaching between your thighs he cups and palms at your already throbbing cunt. Your hips meeting the motion of his hand on their own accord finally getting a little of the friction you’d been needing since he fucked you last night.

“Mmmhmm I’m always like this around you..” Throwing your head back on his shoulder, the five o’clock shadow covering his jaw rubs rough against your cheek. “For years.”

Groaning low the movements of his hand picks up its pace at your confession, it feels good but it only makes the throb deep in your gut worse. You needed more.

As if reading your mind, he rips a hole in the crotch of your tights, a growl emanating from his chest as he does it. One hand roughly gripping your jaw to turn your head so he can collect your lips while the other moves your underwear to the side to push two fingers into your needy dripping mess of a hole.

His tongue catches your moans as he starts a slow pace, relishing in the way he feels the velvet of your walls constrict around him with every touch. The rocking of your hips making the soft flesh of your ass stroke him through his slacks.

“Want me to fill you up again huh?” Lips brushing against yours as he speaks he watches the way your eyes flutter open to meet his blown out gaze. Nodding dumbly you can’t find the words hanging in the back of your throat when he curls his fingers in a way that makes your face scrunch up and jaw go slack.

“Answer me pretty girl, I need to hear it.” The sounds of your slick squelching should be enough to embarrass you but it only makes it worse.

“Yes, please.” Grinding your hips against him, your desperation to cum takes over all self control. “I almost had to touch myself again last night, I kept it all inside.”

Fingers stopping their movements you feel his cock twitch at your words, moaning loud enough to get caught he adds the pad of his thumb to your swollen clit. The movements of his wrist return with a quickened pace to make sure you see stars when you cum.

The sound of the front door is almost lost on the both of you until the slam of their boots kicking off snow against the carpet breaks you apart. As quick and quiet as he was in there was just as quick and quiet as he was out. Shoving your dress back down, you grip onto the shelves for balance, your legs feeling more like jelly after being so close to the edge. Desperate to try to control your ragged breathing you close your eyes to focus.

“You’re still in the pantry?” Jenny’s voice snaps you back to reality, turning around you’re hoping she can’t tell how close you were to getting fucked moments ago.

“Yeah- uhh - sorry I was just being nosy. Seeing what kind of snack game we got going on for movie night later.” The shake in your voice makes you think she’s not going to believe you, silently preparing for the worst. You’re shocked when she pushes her way in, eyes scanning around.

“This is why we’re best friends. Always thinking ahead.” Smirking at you she nudges your shoulder with hers and you wonder if she can smell how close he had your to cumming.

—-

The rest of the day was filled with stolen glances and light touches any chance he could get. The sneaking around made it that much more exciting and it made Steve feel like a teenager again. The thought of your tights ripped underneath your dress as you walked around pretending like everything was normal, like he didn’t have you on the verge with his fingers in the pantry this morning had him fighting the blood rushing to his lower half every time he saw you.

Dinner came and went without him trying to sneak a touch, but you were more than thankful for it. Your body had been painfully buzzing since the incident as you tried to calm yourself down. Your new found peace was short lived once it came around time to watch A Wonderful Life, a tradition you three did every year. Only this time much like the seating arrangement at the dining table you were forced to be next to Steve again. Jenny snuggled up to her boyfriend on the other side, you were hyper focused on Steve’s body heat next to you, the familiar buzzing of yours returning with a vengeance.

Hidden under separate blankets you try not to fidget too much, being this close to him already riling you up. His smell swirling around you only adds to the lust filled haze that hangs over your body. You peek at him from your peripherals to see his gaze focused on the black and white movie on the screen, the brightness dances and reflects off the specs in his eyes in a way that makes you sigh. Catching the sound he turns to look at you just for you to snap your head back to the screen. Holding his stare for a long time he’s silently daring you to break your facade. Chuckling to himself when you don’t you hear the leather of the sofa creak underneath him as he leans back deeper into the couch cushions, kicking his slipper covered feet on the automen.

The light snores of your best friend catch your attention from the other side of you, glancing over you see her passed out on her boyfriend's lap. His face gives you the impression he wasn’t too far behind her either when his eyelids would droop down every so often. The warmth of Steve’s hand under your blanket is almost enough to make you jump as you swallow your gasp. Turning back to him, he hasn’t moved an inch, his poker face from before stronger than ever as his hand makes its way back up to the place that needed him most.

Your hand meets his to stop him from moving any further, your eyes set in a warning glare when you shoot him daggers. His eyes move lazily from the screen to meet yours, a devilish grin spreading across his lips as he teasingly pushes his hand an inch higher. Your grip only tightens as you make eyes at him nodding your head in Jenny’s boyfriend’s direction. Biting his lip in a smile he slides it up further, hitting the place where your thigh meets your hip right as Jenny’s loud snore wakes herself up.

Ripping his hand away for the second time today, you started wondering if he wanted to be caught.

“That’s it, I’m falling asleep on the couch we’re going to bed.” Standing up in a stretch she eyes the little amount of space separating you from Steve. “Jesus y/n I didn’t mean to make you sit so close to my dad.” Laughing loudly she gestures at the newly open space as her boyfriend follows her lead with his own stretch.

Wasting no time to scoot as far away from him as you can, you’re sure your reaction is convincing enough when she snorts at your eagerness. Legs spread out in front of you to take up the whole half of the couch, you give a content sigh making a show getting comfortable for her benefit. Saying their good nights to Steve she ruffles your hair as they walk past you towards the stairs. Keeping your eyes locked onto the screen you can feel the way he’s staring at you. Like a predator stalking its prey.

You can hear the click of the bedroom door upstairs over the movie, the realization of your new found privacy is enough to make the air thicken and your mouth go dry. Your breathing picks up its pace when you feel the smoothness of his big hand wrap around your ankle. Rubbing soft circles with his thumb he uses it to pull you back to him, legs draped over his lap he discards his own blanket to the floor using yours as an added cover in case he was interrupted again. Fingers twitching at his sides all day, he was greedy to be inside of you.

Slapping a hand over your mouth to cover your squeal he can see the corners of your eyes crinkle revealing your smile hidden underneath.

“Steve!” You half whisper yell ignoring the shiver that runs up your spine as one of his big hands makes it way up you leg, the heat of your core taunting his finger tips.

“That’s Mr. Harrington to you.” He smirks with a playful glint his eyes.

Biting your lip to hide your smile, you spread your legs more silently begging for his touch despite your mock protests. You’ve wanted this since the moment you met him. Raising an eyebrow at your eagerness, his fingertips finally reach the soaked lace of your panties again. Throwing his head back with a groan, he lets out a shaky breath before pushing the offending material to the side for the second time that day.

Gasping when his fingers meet your slick, he runs a soft stripe up your folds with two fingers savoring the feeling of how wet and needy you already were for him. Dipping to collect more at your entrance he drags them back up to circle your swollen clit. He lets the pads of his fingers massage the bundle of nerves with enough pressure to have you gripping his wrist writhing underneath him.

“I know baby, you need to cum huh?” His mocking tone only sends more slick dripping down your walls. Eyebrows furrowed and eyes closed all you can do is nod feeling that familiar build return deep in your gut.

“Please, please St - Mr. Harrington.” Catching your mistake with a mischievous smile, your words are enough for him to stop his assault on your clit sliding two fingers in with ease searching for the spot he found that made you almost fall apart in the pantry.

The moan that leaves your mouth is loud enough for both of you to freeze, so caught up in each other the thought of Jenny just up the stairs comes back to reality. Holding your breath you listen for any sign of movement, his fingers slowly start to pump in and out of you when the coast becomes more than clear. Curling his them in a way that has your knees fold up, you can feel how hard he is when your foot brushes against him.

“Steve - fuck - I need you.” You weren’t above begging if you had to, but Steve doesn’t make you. Nodding his head eagerly, his other hand makes quick work of the button and zipper of his slacks. Pulling his fingers out of you to shimmy them down his hips, you clench at nothing from the loss of contact.

Grunting when you waste no time to straddle his lap, your eyes widen when you finally get to see his cock in the light. Thick and long, it curved slightly at the top with big veins running up the sides, his head was flushed pink as it leaked pushed up against the soft fabric of his sweater. He felt big last night but actually seeing it made you nervous.

“You can take it all baby, you did so good for me last night.” Grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger her brings your eyes to his. “You gonna be a good girl for me and make a mess all over me again?”

Nodding your head, the pad of his thumb catches your bottom lip pulling it down so you feel the tip of it hit your tongue. Without thinking twice you wrap your lips around his digit sucking hard enough to hollow out your cheeks. Cock twitching in response he lets out a low groan from deep inside his chest.

“Fuck, I need to bury myself inside that tight pussy honey.” Words coming from between clenched teeth, he roughly pulls his thumb from the wetness of your mouth, hissing when your teeth scrape against him.

Grabbing himself from the base of his cock, you find purchase on his broad shoulders, as he waits for you to lift yourself up enough for him to push your panties to the side, swiping his length through your leaking folds. He collects enough to cover his head before lines himself at your entrance, eyes connecting with yours looking for your consent. Taking a deep breath through your nose you nod your head before sinking down on him.

The new position has him stretching you in a way that has you whimpering mess trying to adjust to his size. Big enough to feel like he was splitting you in two, he lets you take him at your own pace. Fingers on your hips the strength of his grip has the material of your dress bunched up at your sides as you slowly take a seat. The feeling of him completely inside has you feeling a kind of fullness you thought was only reserved for the bad pornos you watched. The slow rock of your hips making you understand the obscene noises falling from their lips as you fought your own from coming out.

“Yeah? That feel good?” Nudging his nose with yours he kisses the side of your trembling mouth.

“God, it feels so good.” Whining into his open mouth, his lips turn up when he feels a shudder run through your body when he pushes his hips up hitting even deeper then before. “I want -“ Snapping them more harshly then before he punches the air out of your lungs.

“What do you want, honey?” His grip on your hips tightens enough to leave bruises as he slams you further down on his cock, the tip of it hitting your elusive g-spot that boys your age could never seem to find.

“Oh - fuck “ Tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, the intensity of your orgasm that was building was turning you into a blabbering cock drunk mess. “I want you to cum inside me so bad, I want all of it.” Finding the strength to grind down your hips your moment of control has your lips dipping to his ear “Every last drop.” Nipping at his earlobe. The quiet ‘fuck’ you hear in the only warning you get before he starts his brutal pace underneath you.

“Want me to fuck a baby into you? Is that what you want, honey?” Birth control was a beautiful thing but his words were still almost enough to make you cum on the spot. “Want to make me a daddy again don’t you? I saw you in the kitchen, you wanna be my good little housewife huh?”

“God - yes please. I - I need it, whatever you want, I’ll do whatever you want.” So close to getting what you wanted you could care less how pathetic you sounded.

The blunt end of your nails dig into the thick material of his sweater as you try to keep yourself up right. Lips pressed together in almost a kiss, you swallow each other’s quick breaths hoping that its enough to drown out your sounds. The grind of your hips finds a way to match with the speed of his thrusts, the intensity of his cock hitting your sweet spot with every push has you finally fall off the edge of the cliff you’d only just teetered over before.

“I’m - shit - I’m coming.” Smashing your lips into his when your walls constrict so tight around him to coax his own undoing out at the same time. He tries his best to muffle your cries as your body convulses almost violently, the spasm of your walls milking him into the most intense orgasm of his life.

Your fingers find their way into the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck, pulling slightly to lick inside his mouth as he paints your insides white with everything you’d been begging for. The motion of your hips never stops until you feel him start to leak out of you, coating your thighs and his with his sticky release. Thankful that the couch was leather you didn’t have to worry about explaining the mess that was sure to be left behind.

The sound of the toilet flushing makes you both freeze as you listen to the light pad of steps up stairs. Holding your breath you wait until you hear the click of the door shut again before exhaling it across his face. A lazy smile graces his handsome features, the afterglow of the long awaited orgasm kicking in.

“I think we need to talk about you coming to visit on your own sometime.”

———-

Colors 3

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington smut #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x you #steve Harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fan fiction #steve Harrington #steve harrington x y/n

[astermath]

steve harrington who comes home late, seeing you sleeping on the couch.

his face radiates warmth when he’s met with the sight of your sleeping figure, draped in a soft blanket with your cheek smushed against the armrest. even asleep and unaware of your surroundings, you manage to be the single most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

he’s as careful as he possibly can be not to wake you up, bending down to press a soft kiss to your forehead and shuffling his arms underneath you so he can pick you up. wrapped in a blanket cocoon of your own making, head resting against steve’s chest as he carries you to your shared bedroom, you couldn’t be more at ease. the scent of his cologne and his gentle grip on you keep you nice and cozy, even when he puts you back onto the bed.

he can’t help himself, so he kneels down besides it, fingers gently reaching out to trace over the curve of your cheek. moments like these make him feel like you’re surreal sometimes, so he likes to touch you to ground himself. even if the feeling of your soft skin only adds to your dream-like appearance.

he presses another soft kiss to your head, whispering an “i love you”, almost lost to the silence of the room. he gets up to change, and he almost doesn’t hear the giggles coming from you on the other side of the bed.

you’d pretend to be asleep on the couch another thousand times if you could experience that again. and he’d play along every time.

#steve harrington x reader #stevemath #aster writer stranger things #steve stranger things #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington writing #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fan fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington fluff

[munsonluhvr]

HOW TO FAKE IT (MINI SERIES) (PART 1)

contents: steve harrington x reader. best friends/fake dating to lovers. sfw! In an attempt to cover up a lie and make his ex-gf jealous, Steve enlists you, his best friend, to fake date him // slowwww burn. word count - 3.7k

notes: welcome to 1/4 of 'how to fake it,' my first mini series for Steve Harrington. I hope you enjoy; part 2 coming soon!

installments: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

“Steve, as much as I care for you, I can’t take this anymore,” you say, leaning on the counter of Scoops Ahoy. “You have to stop; It’s been months and she’s not changing her mind.” 

Steve sighs, shaking his head. His scoops ahoy hat slips down on his head, nearly falling off. “Don’t say that, yes she will. I’m Steve Harrington, she has to take me back.” 

For the hundredth time, you were listening to your best friend Steve complain about his ex-girlfriend Tina – who broke up with him several months ago, and despite Steve’s beliefs, was not taking him back any time soon. Although Steve was torn up about the breakup, you were relieved for him. Tina was a bitch, and you knew Steve could do a lot better. 

“There’s a million girls in Hawkins, you can find somebody else.” You hum, starting to roll your eyes at Steve’s demeanor. “It’s not healthy to be dwelling on someone who obviously doesn’t care about you.”��

Steve fumbles with an ice cream scoop, sighing as he fiddles with the utensil. “She’s going to come back, just wait.” 

Behind you, the door bell jingles, signaling that a customer is entering the ice cream shop. Steve’s head jerks up: “Welcome to Scoops-“ Steve says, his voice trailing off towards the end of his mandatory phrase. You watch as Steve’s face drops, his mouth gaping at the sight behind you. You turn around, seeing exactly what Steve was looking at. 

As if she had been in the room seconds earlier, waiting for Steve to say the magic words that she’d come back, Tina, and a male dressed in a Hawkins sports team jacket, walk through the ice cream shops door. When Tina realizes it’s you and Steve at the counter, you can tell she wants to turn on her heel and walk out. You can’t help but roll your eyes and shake your head. 

“Oh,” Tina says, her eyes catching yours briefly. “I didn’t think you’d still be working here.” 

You lean back against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest. Tina always hated you due to the way you and Steve were so close. You and Steve had inside jokes and regularly scheduled hang outs; all of which Tina despised. To Tina, you were a constant competition.

“It’s my job, Tina, why would I have quit?” Steve says, flushing at the sight of his ex-girlfriend. 

Tina shrugs, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. Even from a few feet away you can smell her sickeningly sweet perfume. “I don’t know, it’s just what I figured,” Tina hums, clasping her hands in front of her. The boy next to her, someone you didn’t recognize, stood next to Tina silently.

Steve, ignoring the fact that Tina had a male with her, was upfront. “I’ve called you a bunch of times and you’ve never called back.” 

You let your eyes close out of discomfirt and awkwardness. You can’t bear to watch your best friend gravel with the devil. 

“Yeah, I know Steve. We broke up, there’s not much else to say. I mean I’ve moved on already.” Tina says, gesturing towards the boy next to her. The boy had no facial expression whatsoever, his eyes trained on the rows of ice cream, standing there as if he was a rock. “You’re not seeing anyone?” 

Steve shifts behind you on the other side of the counter, obviously thinking of some excuse. “No, I am.”  You frown, looking over your shoulder at Steve. You give him a look, wondering how he was going to maneuver out of this conversation. 

“Who?” Tina asks. “Do I know her?” 

Steve shrugs, trying to avoid naming an imaginary girl. “Can I get you anything? We have a bunch of new flavors this week.” 

Tina sniffs and shakes her head, obviously unsatisfied at the lack of answer Steve gives her. You’re sure she’s going to go home and phone her friends to see if Steve is dating one of her perky, blonde friends. Even though she's trying to be nonchalant, you have no doubt Tina brought her new boyfriend to Scoops Ahoy, knowing that Steve would be working - just to make him jealous.  “Chrissy Cunningham and Jason Carver are having a party at Jason’s house tomorrow; you should bring your girlfriend. I’d love to meet her.” Tina says with a painfully fake smile.  “I’m glad we’ve both moved on.” 

Steve smiles, standing up straighter. “We’ll be there.” With a single nod, Tina turns on her heel and walks out of the store.  Once Tina is out of the store, you turn sharply towards Steve. “What the hell was that?”

Steve covers his face with his hands, bending across the counter to lean on the platform. “I know, I know, I screwed up. I didn’t know what to say.” 

“Well, good luck with that. Getting a girlfriend by tomorrow should be interesting.” 

Steve groans, “I’m so screwed.” 

You lean back on your bed, a book resting on the top of your thighs. You're dressed in your favorite pajama set, fuzzy socks adorning your feet. After you visited Steve, his lack of a girlfriend unresolved, you headed home, nestling into your bed early. Throughout the rest of the evening, your mind circled back to the Steve and Tina situation, each time you thought about it you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself.

You are engrossed in your book, about to flip a page, when you hear a soft knock on your window. You pause, thinking it could be the wind and choose to ignore the sound. The knock happens a second time and you get up from your bed, moving to look out your window. You hold back a scream when you see Steve on the other side, sitting on your roof. 

“Steve,” you say, lifting up the window. “It’s like you want my parents to catch you and ground me for sneaking you into my room.” 

Steve maneuvers into your room through the open window. “Your parents love me, they wouldn’t mind.” 

You scoff, lowering your voice. “If they love you then why didn’t you use the front door?” 

Steve waves his hand, sitting on the edge of your bed. “Let’s not focus on that, let’s focus on why I’m here.” 

You sit on the chair that’s tucked into your desk, sitting across from Steve. “Go on.” 

“So I was thinking - I want you to be my fake girlfriend.” Steve says, glancing at you. “You’re the person who knows me best and we get along great; you’d play a perfect girlfriend.” 

“Are you crazy?” You look at Steve as if he has ten heads, shaking your head. “No, I won’t.” 

“Why not? It would totally piss off Tina, no offense but she hates you. It can just be for tomorrow and then we can break up.” 

You scoff again, looking away at the other side of your room. “I don’t want to be known as one of the notches in your belt. Plus, that’s just weird, everyone knows we’re best friends.”  

Steve pouts, wringing his hands together. “Y/n, please. Just for tomorrow, I need Tina to be jealous and see what she’s missing out on.”

You surprise yourself when you catch yourself considering Steve's proposition. It's insane to fake date Steve; you're sure nobody would believe it but Steve looks so pathetic sitting at the edge of the bed, his big, brown eyes wide with hope that you'll agree. Steve is your best friend, and you truly would do anything to help him, potentially even fake date him for an evening. Steve has always been there for you, taking you to go see 'girly' movies, sneaking you your favorite flavor of ice cream after he finishes work at Scoops Ahoy. What will everyone think? What will everyone say? You push the unanswerable questions out of your mind, sighing as you realize what you’re about to say.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

“If we leave now we could probably make the last viewing at Hawkins Theater,” you say while glancing out Steve’s passenger window, Jason Carver’s home staring back at you. You sit in his car, your trendiest dress on with converse sneakers – and Steve’s old varsity basketball jacket on (a prop in which he insisted on you wearing to make your relationship believable). The jacket dwarfs your body, the sleeves are entirely too big for your arms; and it smells of mothballs, signaling that Steve had pulled the article of clothing out just for this occasion. 

“We’ll just stay for a little while, until Tina notices us.” Steve says, pushing his sunglasses onto his face even though it’s 9 o’clock and dark out. From previous experience, staying ‘a little while’ at a party meant staying until it was over, and people were heading home. 

Steve pops his driver’s door open, coming around the front of the car to open the passenger door. “Ready to do this?” Steve asks, slinging his arm over your shoulder. He brings you in close to his body, his grip tight on you. You can feel his nervousness through his touch. 

You weren’t entirely sure if you were ready, you hadn’t even fully processed the arrangement you and Steve had come up with. After you agreed to fake dating Steve, you both shook on the fact that the arrangement wouldn’t last longer then tonight. You never dated before, Steve dated enough for the both of you, and you weren’t sure how to act as a girlfriend. You decided to take cues from the movies you watched, picking up pointers from the characters. 

You are also, of course, nervous about how other’s would perceive you as Steve’s girlfriend. You are meek, your personality only coming out for Steve and your other friends, and you preferred to stay home and read rather than partying with Tina. Everyone knew you as Steve’s best friend but how would they receive you as Steve’s girlfriend? 

“Ready,” you say despite your lack of confidence. Within a few strides you’re at Jason Carvers front door. Even from outside you can hear the chatter, music, and laughter that’s unfolding inside. Steve reaches out, grasping the doorknob. Before twisting it to unlatch the door, he hesitates beside you. 

The door creaks open, revealing the cramped hallways and rooms of the Carver household. Dozens of people in chic 80s clothing flitter around the house, red solo cups in their hands. Off to your right is the living room, people standing against the wall in groups or sitting on the two sofa that faced each other. To your left is the dining room, a long table covered in bottles of alcohol and cheap party snacks. Straight ahead was the kitchen, a girl being encouraged to drink from the keg. 

“Steve!” A voice calls from the crowd. Your eyes follow the sound, revealing Jason who pushes his way through the crowd. “So glad you made it, we can’t have a party without our king of the keg. And you brought y/n; of course, you did, you guys are a pair.” Though Jason’s eyes linger on Steve’s arm around your shoulders. 

Steve laughs, looking off into the crowd, no doubt trying to spy Tina. “Y/n is actually my date to the party, she’s my girlfriend.” 

Jason’s eyebrows raise as he rocks back onto his heels. “Wow; I wish I could say I’m surprised but I guess I always thought you guys would be good for each other.” 

Now you frown, realizing Jason actually could see you and Steve as a couple. You wish you could tell Jason that he was wrong, that you and Steve would never date. 

“Does Tina know?” Jason asks before Steve or you could answer. 

“Now she does,” Steve says, nodding his head in the direction of the living room. Tina stood in the middle of the room; a red solo cup placed tightly within her grip. You could tell she was fuming. Jason recognized Tina’s distraught look and glances at you and Steve. “I should probably bring up another keg from the basement, enjoy the party.” Jason says, slipping away quickly. 

Tina approaches you and Steve within a few steps, but she keeps her distance from where you both stand. “What do we have here?” Tina says, crossing her arms over her chest. A drop of beer sloshes over the rim of the cup. “Did I really just hear you tell Carver that you two are a couple; that y/n is your girlfriend?” 

Steve didn’t say anything, and you offer a thin-lipped smile. 

“Why didn’t you tell me yesterday that you two were dating?” Tina asks, as you watch her jaw clench. Steve shrugs, “you left before I could say anything.” 

Tina’s eyes narrow, her eyes analyzing you and Steve intensely. “How long have you been together?” 

At the same time, you say, “two months” and Steve says, “three months.” You both glance at each other. “Two and a half months, to be precise.” You say, offering another small smile. 

Tina hums, continuing to investigate you and Steve. Beside you, Steve shifts uncomfortable, feeling yours and his charade start to crack. “Babe, do you want something to drink? Let’s go see what they have.” Steve says, glancing down at you. His arm drops from around your shoulder to your hand, letting his fingers interlace with yours. You feel your palms begin to moisten. You nod, letting Steve guide you away from Tina. 

“Holy shit, Tina’s really pissed.” Steve says to you once your away from his ex. Steve weaves through the crowd, tugging you along with him. “Did you see her face when she saw us talking to Jason? I wish somebody had got a picture of her so I could frame it.” 

Steve rambles and you hum trying to fill your half of the conversation. You, however, are too caught up in your thoughts, feeling the eyes of the party guests boring into your skin. All around you people turn to look over their shoulder, noticing how Steve guides you through the crowd lovingly, or the way his fingers caresses your back as he shepherds you around the party. When you got to the drink table, people watch as curious onlookers as Steve pours you a drink, swiping a piece of your hair that had fallen in your face. To the outside world, you’re sure it all looks so natural, so real. 

You’re sure Steve notices it too. “Let’s sit,” Steve says, bending down to whisper to you. Again, he guides you through the party, steering you to the open seat on one of the couches. Steve sits down promptly, beside another couple that are in their own world, lips only millimeters from each other. You stand awkwardly at the end of the couch, feeling people watch you closely; there’s no place for you to sit. 

“Sit on my lap,” Steve says through closed teeth, noticing your lack of fluidity. You hesitate, not knowing you feel about putting your bottom so close to Steve’s groin. You push out your uncomfortableness and gently, and gracefully, sit on Steve’s lap. 

You face in one direction, maintaining a perfect view of the lip-locking couple, and you lean against Steve and the end of the couch. “This is weird,” you mutter, feeling your tenseness. 

“Act natural,” Steve says, placing an arm around your waist. His fingertips grip your hip. 

You loop an arm around his neck. “There’s nothing natural about this,” you say. From any angle, you know you look stiff and uncomfortable – certainly not like a girlfriend of ‘two and a half months.’

“Y/n, please?” Steve pleads, leaning back in the cushions of the couch, furthering pushing your bodies together. You sigh, mimicking all the other couples around the party. You nestle into Steve’s arms, remembering how you’d do anything for this girl-crazy best friend of yours. 

Steve lets his hands wander down your thigh, the tips of his fingers tickling your bare skin. You feel your cheeks and neck flush with heat, the foreign feeling igniting something within you. You had never been touched by a boy before. 

Again, your mind flashes back to the millions of scenes in movies that you’ve watched before where boyfriends and girlfriend interact with each other. You know they kiss, though you can’t bring yourself to kiss Steve, they hug and fondle each other. Physical touch seems to be the love language of choice in the movies you’ve seen. 

In the corner of the living room, you see Tina standing with one of her friends, you’ve forgotten her same – Sophia or Sydney or something like that, looking in yours and Steve’s direction. You realize it’s game time. 

With utmost confidence, you let your fingers wander into Steve’s luscious hair, your fingers interlacing between his brown locks. Steve looks in your direction, an eyebrow raised. “Tina’s looking,” you say, turning your nonchalant gaze into a gaze of affection. Your fingers comb Steve’s hair and you feel how soft and silky it is. You let your thumb brush across his temple, letting the tips of your fingers trace his cheekbones and then jawline. You don’t think about what you’re doing, it’s as if your fingers are in autopilot.  

Without moving, Steve keeps his big brown eyes trained on you, his fingers gripping your thigh. You assume he’s playing his part nicely, making it seem as if this is what you and he do every night – caress each other’s skin and gaze into each other’s eyes, but little do you know, Steve’s mind is blank, his body in a trance under your touch. 

Your fingers pause where they get to Steve’s lips, the pad of your thumb itches to brush across his plump bottom lip – you’ve always admired Steve’s lips, but you stop yourself; that’s just a bridge too far. 

You lean back at last, looking back out at the rest of the party, away from Steve’s face. Steve exhales, learning he had been holding his breath the entire time. Steve realizes it’s his turn to play the game; as you lean against him, his arm unlatches from around you to allow his hand to travel freely to your neckline where he sweeps your hair away from neck. Leaning forward, Steve places a small kiss on your shoulder blade where his varsity jacket had slipped off your shoulders. 

You glance back at Steve, a smile lingering on your lips. “This is crazy, Steve.” 

“I know but it’s kind of fun; making Tina mad, I mean.” Steve says, his eyes flickering to where Tina stands with her friend. 

You aren’t sure if you agree but you know you’re tired of thinking about your every move, knowing a crowd is watching you perform. “Can we leave yet?” you ask, expressing displeasure across your face. 

Steve bounces his knees, making your jolt on his lap. Your hair falls back into place, covering the burning spot where Steve had just kissed. “Pretend to be having a good time, just for a little longer.” 

You sigh, leaning back into Steve’s chest. You smell his cologne that clings to his clothes. You wish you could be in Steve’s room, laying out on his plush bed, his cassette player on and listening to him complain about girls or his coworker Robin. 

You’re almost in the fetal position on Steve’s lap, his arms wrapped around your body tightly. Steve dips down to your ear, “Pretend I’m saying something funny and laugh.” 

You put your week of theater summer camp that your mom sent you to when you were eight to good use and laugh softly, as feminine as possible. You glance up at him from your position. “You owe me big time, Steve Harrington.”

This time Steve laughs, but it’s genuine and not fake at all. 

Eventually the party begins to die down and you convince Steve to take you home. For the last hour, you and Steve worked together to make this relationship believable, whispering into each other’s ears and letting Steve’s hand slide up and down your thigh. By the end of the night, your head aches. 

“You were amazing,” Steve says, “You know, you should consider becoming an actress.” Steve puts his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side, as you walk out of the party. 

“No, it’s just what I do for my best friend. I meant it when I said you owe me.” 

Steve laughs, taking his sunglasses off. He swings them in a loop, by holding one of the arms of the glasses, before he places them on top of your head. You pull them down over your eyes. “How can I repay you, Miss Harrington?” 

You scoff at the new nickname. “Pretty in Pink is at the theaters; you, me, bucket of popcorn, this weekend.” 

Steve groans – he isn’t a fan of Molly Ringwald. “Fine,” Steve says. 

You smile satisfied. You reach Steve car that’s parked right in front of the sidewalk. As Steve opens the passenger door, someone yelling his name causes you both to turn around. It’s Tina. 

“Steve!” Tina yells across the Carver’s lawn. Beside you, Steve tenses. Jogging, Tina approaches you quickly. 

“What’s up Tina?” Steve says. 

Tina’s slightly out of breath, as she begins to speak. “This weekend Chrissy and I, our boys, and some friends were planning on going to Chrissy’s family cabin – She and I were talking, and we think you and y/n should join us – since you’re a couple and all.” 

Steve shakes his head. “We have plans this weekend, we’re going to the movies.”

Tina rolls her eyes. “Hawkins theater will still be in town when we all get back, you can go next weekend. Really, Steve, I insist – we should be able to hang out around each other without it being weird or awkward.” 

Steve sighs, glancing at you. You glance back at him, an unspoken agreeance unfolding between you. You have to keep the charade going for a few more days. “Okay,” Steve says, turning his glance to Tina and taking your hand into his. “We can’t wait.” 

Tina clasps her hands, her eyes sending daggers your way. You have no idea what you’re in for. “Can’t wait,” you mumble, squeezing Steve’s hand as hard as you can.

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fan fiction #Steve Harrington x y/n #steve harrington #stranger things fic

[keeksandgigz]

Chapter 1: Les Usurpateurs

Part 1 of Words are Futile Devices- A Steddie x Reader Call Me By Your Name AU

Somewhere in Northern Italy, 1983

cw: ~3k words, no smut (yet), EVERYONE IS OF AGE!!!, a lot of unnecessary description for the vibes, reader is a bit of a cunt

notes: I'm back (I think)

Despite the lack of smut in this chapter, this and all my works are 18+ minors do NOT interact

There was something of a quiet intimacy in hearing the summer sparrows in the morning. Nothing but the gentle hum and chirp buried in the ripe peach trees. Thus marking the beginning of your yearly summer stay in Italy, of doing nothing but lounge around and savor the crickets at night, lying down on the couch of the villa your mother had inherited from her great grandparents. 

What you liked about your summers in Italy was that time seemed to go slower, at your leisure, spending it between the lake with your friends, the town just a short bike ride away or staying home buried in the pile of books you had brought over just to keep in your room, a bit overgrown, but unable to make it “too yours” because of the guests you’d have to concede your room to a mere four weeks after your arrival at the villa. 

Every summer, your father would host literature and art history students at the villa, aspiring professors, authors, archeologists, to help with their dissertations. They’d come with their american ways, obnoxiously disturbing the peace that you had created for yourself in the idyllic world you’d surrounded yourself into. Like that was a different astral plane you’d projected into, with the same friends as always, the same views, the same places to go. A different guest you’d have to surrender your room to for ten weeks, while you were banished to the communicating room, divided only by a shared bathroom. A small twin bed, an old desk and chair, a big enough window to let a good amount of light in, so you don’t suffocate and turn into a vampire. You despised that room. 

They always arrived on the first day of July, when the weather seemed to turn from needing a light pair of jeans in the evening  to clothes being unbearable. If you were in your room you’d limit yourself to a long enough shirt to keep you decent for the ghosts in the villa. There were no ghosts, but Giovanna, the housekeeper, would pop in from time to time to drop off your clothes– washed, ironed and folded. They smelled like citrus. 

You were reading The Count of Monte Cristo when the guest arrived. The rippling sounds of the gravel under the heavy tires of the car sounding like an alarm. You placed your book face down on the page you had been reading and ran to the window. Curious to see what the tide had brought this year. Maybe someone whose English wasn’t very good. Or some lunatic who could only stay inside because of his pollen allergy. You wondered what they would have looked like. Tall? Ugly? Obnoxious in the sense where you could hear them play shuffle and slam and bang doors and cabinets and drawers in the morning when getting ready? 

The car came to a stop in front of the door, right under the window of your room. The driver’s door opened, Giuseppe, the groundskeeper of the villa went around to open the trunk. Your heart thumped as you saw the passenger door open. It was a man. He was wearing a pair of white linen shorts, a blue flouncy short sleeve button- up shirt and gold- rimmed glasses. He pushed them up as he placed two hands on his hips, quickly removing one in favor of running his hands through his hair, styled and coiffed like he had not just come off an eight- hour flight. 

“You must be…” You’d heard your father say, placing a finger on his bearded chin, the name of the boy must have slipped him. 

“Steve. Piacere” the boy said, in an Americanized Italian, sounding like he had a hot potato in his mouth. 

“Ah! Steve, Benvenuto” your father said, bidding his welcome and shaking the boy’s hand. Your mother extended a delicate hand as well, introducing herself with a bright smile. At the same time, the opposite passenger door opened. Another boy. 

This one had long, frizzy hair. His face was framed by the bangs that stuck on his forehead. He was wearing a black t- shirt of a band you’d never heard of before tucked inside a pair of cutoff denim shorts held up by a belt, a chain clinking at the boy’s side as he stepped off the car. He wouldn’t let Giuseppe take his bags, insisting he could have done it himself. 

Your father followed the boy with his eyes as he carried what appeared to be a duffel bag and a beat up suitcase towards your father. 

“And this must be Eddie, then” your father said, as Eddie released his suitcase to shake your father’s hand. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you” the boy said, and from this new angle you could see that he sported three chunky rings on his left hand and a chain necklace around his neck. Your father saw you peeking out the window and motioned for you to come down. 

“Shall we go inside? Show you around before dinner?” He motioned towards the boys as Eddie picked his stuff up once again and followed inside. You rolled your eyes. That was your cue to put on some pants and come downstairs. 

Your father’s office was just on the right at the bottom of the stairs, as you hopped down the marble steps. You heard chatter. 

“Oh there she is” you heard your father announce as you leaned against the doorframe of his office. You tended to dislike his theatrics “Boys, this is my daughter” the two guests turned around, reaching their hands to squeeze yours, as you firmly told them your name. 

“Hey, I’m Steve,” he said, fixing his glasses with his other hand. He was soft, but his handshake was firm. Hands bigger than yours. 

“You’re the archeology and history nerd” you quipped, a slight curl of your mouth followed it. 

Steve didn’t seem to like the name, as he let go of your hand, mouth in a straight line. Embarrassed. Put off. You needed them to know that they weren’t welcome here. 

“Hey, what’s up I’m Eddie” the other guy said. His hand was much more rougher and calloused than Steve’s, likely a guitarist. 

“You’re the soon to be failed author?” you tilted your head at him,

 you tilted your head at him, you heard your mother gasp, the indignation dripping from her mouth as she said your name. Eddie chuckled, a bit taken aback, but amused. 

“How do you like daddy’s money, hm?” It was your turn to be indignant. You heard your father snicker behind the boy, followed by Steve. Your hand brusquely retracted from Eddie’s, as your mother poured springs of apologies on your behalf. 

“She’s not like this, usually,” your mother said. Which was a lie. You were always like this. Rude, witty, sour. 

You heard the disappointment in your dad’s tone “Go show them their room” he said, an intimation for you to leave. 

“Make yourselves at home,” he said, before you guided them back upstairs. 

Eddie huffed up the stairs. You didn’t offer to take his bags, as he seemed to not need nor want any help. 

You opened the large pinewood door. 

“You guys are gonna sleep in here. This is my room, but it’s gonna be yours for the rest of your stay. I’m gonna be in the next room over. Unfortunately we’ll have to share a bathroom” You could see sleep calling to them, as their eyes opened and closed slowly at the sight of a made bed. 

Eddie dropped his bags and thumped on the bed, sleep immediately overtaking him. 

“You have to excuse him, this is the first time he’s traveled outside of the States,” Steve said, sitting on the bed, leaning to take his shoes off. 

“Nervous or what?” you asked, examining your bookcase in case you wanted to steal a book to take to your room. 

“Just not as lucky as many” Steve shrugged, laying himself down on the mattress “this is his big shot. If your dad likes his stuff it’s all uphill from here” Steve groans, voice full of sleep “thanks for lending us your room, let us know when dinner is.”

And that was that. The boy fell into the arms of slumber.  

And when Giovanna rang the bell to announce dinnertime, once again you peeled yourself away from The Count of Monte Cristo. You wondered if they were still sleeping. 

You wandered into the bathroom and towards the door as you shot a quick look at the two sleeping bodies on the bed. Eddie was snoring. You were unsure if you should have woken them up. 

You toyed with the bathroom door, swinging it between your hands. A grin decorated your face as you decided to slam it. Steve jumped awake, annoyed and scared. 

“Dinner’s ready” you muttered, reaching for the handle of the door. 

“I’ll pass, thanks” Steve said, shaking Eddie from his almost comatose state. The boy mumbled a semi- discernible “huh?” 

“Dinner, Ed. ‘m not going, but you can feel free to” Steve said to the other, but he just turned around and sleepily muttered an “‘mgood, thanks.”

“He’s good. We’ll apologize to your mother in the morning” Steve said, laying back down, ignoring you completely. 

Where’s my apology? 

You were thankful for the lack of guests at dinner. That way you were able to silently eat and then slither back into your room. Back into your book. Lulled by the crickets, and the whisper of the trees in the weak evening breeze. You ended up falling asleep. 

In the morning, Steve was already outside having breakfast with your parents. He looked like he had showered, but you didn’t recall the faint sound of the water running. He was wearing another pair of shorts, another flouncy shirt. Fumbling with a slice of toast, buttered with jam as he talked to your father about the morning paper. 

“This is gorgeous by the way” Steve admitted, looking around “your orchard?” he looked at your mother, who was smiling proudly at the compliment. 

“We grow a lot of fruit here, Giovanna makes apricot juice fresh every day” she smiled, biting into a slice of bread.

“You had a lot to say yesterday, now you’re a quiet little mouse?” your father teased, elbowing you lightly as you rolled your eyes. 

“It’s okay, she apologized” Steve said, an assuring look in his eyes “she didn’t mean that stuff. She told me, it’s just her welcome wagon” he chuckled, and you felt yourself grow red. Why would he save you like that?

Eddie popped out from the door, hair in a bun, changed out of his shirt in favor for a new one. 

“You should show them around some time, dear. Take them into town, maybe at the lake, I hope your father is not gonna keep them cooped up in his office for ten weeks” your mother giggled. 

“Yeah, no we’d love that. Maybe I’ll get some inspiration for the book” Eddie sat down at the breakfast table, between you and Steve as he fumbled with a soft boiled egg Giovanna had to crack open for him. Embarrassment was veiled on his face. 

You looked at his ringed hands, fumble with the small spoon. Did it always look so small? 

“We’re not gonna start until the beginning of the week, but I might ask you to go get some supplies into town today and take these two with you. Eddie’s gonna need some nice paper for his typewriter, won’t you?” your father gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder, at which he smiled. 

“Have another egg” your mother encouraged the boys. Eddie dug into the pot again, getting more confident with the way he spread the runny yolk on a slice of toast. Some of the runny egg dripped in between his fingers.

Just not as lucky as many.

Steve passed. “I know myself too well, if I have a second, I’ll just have a third and a fourth and a fifth and then I’m just gonna have to get rolled outta here” he joked. I know myself. Self- assured, cocky. You wondered what it felt like to really know yourself, to have everything figured out like he did. 

You lent Steve Giuseppe’s old bike, Eddie got an old one of yours, the squeaky rusted tires alerting the two strangers’ presence. You were afraid you would have been pressured into giving one of them your own bike, seeing as you had already surrendered all of your possessions to them. 

It was a pleasant day. Not too incredibly hot to be embarrassed if the two boys were to see you, face riddled with uncomfortable beads of sweat, breath heaving irregularly from the dry air of July. Instead, a nice breeze came through the mountains, as you debated on going for a swim later in the day. 

That’s what you liked about your summers there. A swimsuit was always the wardrobe of choice under your summer clothes, the freedom to subsist in a plane of existence where your obligations began and ended within the span of a few miles of green grass and honeysuckle flowers. 

The two boys followed you down the graveled road into town, which seemed to be deserted, families abandoning their houses in favor of driving to the beach for the weekend. 

You asked them if they wanted to get a coffee, as you dismounted your bikes and parked them in front of a coffee place. 

You sat outside as you sipped from your espresso cups. 

“So” Steve broke the silence “What does one do around here?” you put down your book, the device you so desperately tried to ignore them with, trying to drown them out. 

“Wait for the summer to end” you mumbled carelessly, going back to the words on the page.

“Ok and then in the winter you wait for the summer to start?” Eddie snickered. 

“Seriously though, what do you do here the whole summer?” Steve interrupted, taking you away from your book again, as you tossed it on the table. 

“I read, mostly. Play music, swim at the lake, go out” you huffed out annoyedly, reaching for the book. Eddie preceded you.

“Kafka? What happened to Monte Cristo?” he flicked through the yellowed pages.

“I finished it. How’d you know I was reading that?” you snatched the book back from his hands. 

“It was on your bed before I slammed onto it. You should read something a bit more substantial,” he said “Kafka isn’t gonna teach you shit, why don’t you read Dorian Grey instead?” it annoyed you how patronizing his tone was. 

“I read that last year, thanks for the help” you retorted, taking the book back from him with a roll of your eyes. 

“Your dad seemed to make it abundantly clear that you need to be nice to us” Steve intervened, whining like a petulant child. 

“Or what? You’ll snitch on me?” you snapped, the two boys looking at each other. 

“Listen, sweetheart,” your nose curled at the nickname, “we’re not your enemies or whatever you think you’ve made us out to be. We really don’t want to be a nuisance to you” nothing about what he said seemed sincere. You rolled your eyes in response.

“Well,” Steve stood up from the metal chair with a violent noise, Eddie following suit “we’ll see you later,” as the both of them mounted their bikes and left. The creaking noises of the rusty old bikes followed in their pedaling. 

They finally got the hint. 

You spent the rest of your day at the lake, not really in a mood to interact with Chiara or Alessandro, two of your longtime friends. Instead, you made the slushing of the water current your friend, staring at the words on the page. Meaningless words. Kafka didn’t seem so enticing after all. 

When you got home it went back on the dusty shelf. Your hand lingered on the spine of Dorian Grey for a moment. The cover was brown and worn, it was your mother’s before it became yours, your heart picked up at the words on the spine, gold lettering. You thought about what Eddie had said earlier. 

You picked up Heart of Darkness instead. 

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