#superbly subpar steve spice

[superblysubpar]

thank you so much for requesting @bradshawssugarbaby this is quite literally not at all what you asked for I'm so sorry 🫣🫣🫣🫣

Warnings: teasing, "denying orgasm", a twinge of a little "Mr. Harrington" kink if you squint | my blog is 18+

1335 words

“Steve.”

You were aware the way it came out sounded a lot like the word “More” instead of the attempt to remind him you should be working. 

He hummed from the crook of your neck, lips molded around your pulse point while a hand tilted you open gently and the other ran up and down the inside of your thigh. 

The same thigh that was draped over his lap, skirt pushed up it a little indecently for the activities you were supposed to be doing. There were notebooks and pens left open and blank on the coffee table. The snacks and a stack of VHS tapes next to them, a promise of a movie night to him as a reward, but all your brain could do was remind you to be relieved you put on the new Calvin's you got. 

Your fingers clutched at the collar of his navy polo, pads slipping lower and toying with the little button as he pestered more kisses down your neck. 

“We…oh,” you sighed when his tongue traced your collarbone and his fingers squeezed your inner thigh.

“We?” Steve murmured over the column of your throat, nose skating higher on your jaw as his thumb soothed circles over the back of your neck. 

“We should be studying. The test is tomorrow.”

Shut up! College isn't important, what's important is what this boy is doing with his mouth!

“I am studying,” Steve spoke directly into your ear, low and raspy. 

A shiver danced down your spine and right back up when the ghost of his smile against your skin lingered. 

“Oh really?” You huffed, hand limply gesturing to the coffee table as the boy finally removed himself from your neck to meet your gaze, tips of your noses almost touching.

His eyes were bright with that sort of look that told you he was up to something and you were probably gonna really like it. 

A cocky sort of smirk twisted up the corner of his lips, the one that lifted the two little freckles on his cheek and made the laugh lines around his eyes crease. 

Fuck, should be illegal to look this cute.

“Mhm,” he nodded around the hum, nose tapping yours. 

This time, you gestured a little more confidently, down towards your lap draped ungracefully over his. 

“Please explain to me how this is studying, Harrington.”

Steve smiled, delighted you asked, falling directly into his trap. 

It happened quickly, and with a loud ‘Oof' from you as he pulled you over his lap further, now straddling it. 

“Let's start with math, yeah?” He grinned at you, cocking his head and raising his eyebrows confidently. 

You held your breath as his hands squeezed your hips and roamed slowly up your body. His eyes tracked their movements, and you couldn't deny he was definitely focused. A look of determination in his eyes you'd never once seen directed towards a textbook.

“If Steve kisses his girlfriend once…” he whispered before leaning in and doing just that. Lips slotted against yours in one lingering press before they pulled away. His eyes remained on your mouth in a pout now, hands squeezing at your ribs when you leaned in for more. 

His lips quirked up before he gave you one more, just as chaste and just as frustratingly cut off as he added, “And he gives her another one. How many kisses is that?”

“Three.”

Steve laughed, your scrunched up nose knocking his as you attempted to get your third one. He turned so your lips hit his cheek as he made a buzzer noise.

“Wrong. It's two, baby.”

Your fingers curled into the back of his hair, a huff hitting his jaw as you adjusted yourself on his lap lower. When wet cotton hit his denim covered bulge, you made a soft noise. 

Steve's lips parted at the sound, his hands tracing your curves till they were back to your hips and he could watch the way you try to fight against his hold. 

“How about some Science?” He asked, feigning nonchalance. 

Steve slowly grinded your hips down against him, helping you roll them so the zipper on his Levi's could hit your clit in a way that had you gasping and clutching at his shoulders.

His voice comes out strained, but still amused, “Hypothesis: If we keep doing this, you'll come before I even get inside you.”

The sentence made you groan, forehead tapping his in defeat as he kept your hips rolling in a perfect rhythm. 

“Steve” it really did come out like “More” that time. 

“You're right,” he lets his smile when you groaned as he stopped you from moving. “Science is boring.”

His hands guided you down, back pressed to the couch so the silk of your skirt could glide higher up your thighs while he lowered his head between them. 

His lips skimmed the inside of your thigh, brushing against it as he spoke, “Spelling more your subject?”

Your breath hitched as he pressed his nose into the damp cotton between your legs. His groan vibrated against you before he was moving over your clit in an odd shape. 

Too focused on the feeling of finally getting some more friction against the throbbing nerves, you almost missed it when he asked, “What's that letter, honey?”

You gulped, hands tugging in his hair as he tutted softly, “Missed it? I'll do it again. Pay attention. There's a test later.”

He made the same movement, and your eyelids flutter as you gasped out, “M?”

He hummed his approval and pushed your thighs wider when they tried to close as he licked one long stripe up you. He waits until he hears your quiet whimper of the letter ‘I’. 

Your hand clutched his shoulder, back arching off of the couch as a finger hooked your soaked underwear to the side. A barely there touch, the tip of his tongue, traced another letter. It started on the outside, skimming up skin, dragging through your slick diagonally, before it dragged up the other side.

“N.”

You practically moaned it, tugging on his shoulders, aching him to keep going, to get closer.

“So good baby,” he praised you, watching the way you fluttered around nothing. Then his thumb pushed into your clit and made long and hard brushes over it in the shape of the last letter.

Your stomach tightened, something in your chest ached as you said ‘E’, and Steve asked with a murmur against your thigh. 

“What's that spell?”

“Mine,” you whimpered the word, fingers digging into his shoulders and desperate for more. 

Steve kissed your clit, the nod of his head bumping his nose against it as he praised you again. 

“Good job, you're gonna ace that test.”

And then he was sitting up, facing the coffee table and uncapping a pen. 

You watched, your mouth dropped open in shock and annoyance as he ignored you. Your elbows propped you up as you asked, “Are you serious right now?”

Steve smirked, looking down at the page of his notebook and seeing not a goddamn thing as he shrugged.

“I'm always serious about studying, honey.”

You waited, sure he'd look up at you, break before you did, but when his pen scratched across the page your fingers curled into the couch cushion, until you realized you'd studied Steve just as much. 

Lifting yourself back up to sitting slowly, you let the tips of your nails scratch up his thigh. As you leaned in to his profile, you let your nose bump his cheek as your fingers did the same to where he was painfully straining against his zipper. 

You pouted, lips against his jaw.

“Are you going to give the test Mr. Harrington?”

Steve's pen twitched, missing the line on the paper as he swallowed, the ball not in his court anymore. 

Your name came out of his lips in a whimper as you squeezed him through the denim.

It sounded an awful lot like the word “More”. 

#superbly subpar steve spice #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #stranger thigns fanfiction #superbly subpars writing

[superbfics]

This is an 18+ Page - Minors DNI

Below, you'll find some easy access tags linked below. I hope you discover something to love. Don't forget to reblog your favorite authors and fics - without the foolish dreamers, we'd all be a little lost.

For easiest viewing and ability to find fics, I recommend using the desktop version to utilize the search bar. Search for tropes like "enemies to lovers" or specifics like "coworker steve", "modern eddie" or type in "steve harrington smut" or just something as simple as "fluff". You get the picture 💙

eddie munson:

fluff | spice | smut | hurt/comfort | angst | series | AU

robin buckley:

fluff | spice | smut | hurt/comfort | angst | series | AU

steve harrington:

fluff | spice | smut | hurt/comfort | angst | series | AU

author masterlists - author's masterlists that have been featured in my sunday rec lists

series masterlists - masterlists for the series I devoured, love, return to frequently, and can't recommend enough

superb steddie x reader fic - the stories with reader and steddie (typically smut)

superb stranger things fics - the general stories of the whole party, edancy, ronance, and more can be found under this tag

superb JK character fics - the fics about characters other than Steve Harrington ( Kurt, Keys, Gator, etc.)

#superbly subpars fic recs - updated on Sundays with everything found here, just in one list if that's more your style

#superb reblogs

[superblysubpar]

hi loml

can i get king!steve with the prompt “touch me. anywhere.”

*characters are over 18

A splash of water over your ankles, a holler of ‘turn it up’, the music thumping through the speakers inside the home straining to be heard by the entire town at this point. Warm beer on your lips as your eyes pretend not to roam over the Harrington backyard, searching for the only reason you show up to these sorts of things. 

He leans against the side of the garage, a cigarette hanging between his lips, unlit, rolling his eyes and fiddling with the lighter in his hand. Tommy’s in the middle of telling a story that’s probably false. Wild hands gesturing, a too loud voice and beer splashing from his can onto Carol’s arm as she shrieks. 

No matter how many times you’ve done this with each other, the sting from his eyes never quite meeting yours, the way he’s able to walk right past you all night, it never quite fades. It’s like a bad burn on your skin that never heals, always making you a tad too vulnerable for your liking. 

Which is why your giggle is a little louder and forced tonight, your dress hem a little shorter than normal. Why your hand rests on the chest of the idiot basketball player in front of you, shoving teasingly at his joke that you don’t even remember the punchline to. This time was going to be different. 

The boy in front of you leans forward, and you turn your head, his lips meeting your jaw, then your neck and your eyes meet smoldering ones by the garage. Suddenly the summer night is not the reason you’re feeling too hot, the alcohol not the reason your stomach flips. His arms cross, the muscles in his forearm flex as his jaw clenches. His foot presses to the cigarette he took one single drag of and he pushes off of the wall, slipping through the sliding doors inside. With the excuse of needing another drink leaving your lips, you untangle yourself from the handsy basketball boy, heading inside for a different one. 

It’s easy to pretend that you’re looking for the bathroom, for an unoccupied room. Everyone inside is either too drunk, too stoned, too passed out, or too busy with their lips locked on someone else to notice you tiptoe up the stairs. You find him in his bedroom, swiping at his lips and crushing a can, tossing it into the trash from across the room. 

The door clicks closed behind you as you whisper, “Wow, impressive on and off the court.”

“Don’t you have a throat to go stick a tongue down?”

You look over your shoulder, a hand pressed to your chest and eyes widening in faux innocence, “Me?”

He sits on the edge of the bed, rolling his eyes. The sight of his denim covered thighs spreading wider has your barely covered ones pressing closer together. 

“Don’t be cute.”

A smile tugs at your lips, a timid step forward with the sway of your hips to accompany the batting of your lashes. “You think I’m cute, Steve?”

“Sweetheart, don’t start this shit here.” His words hold no real threat, not when his eyes roam over your body all greedy, not when his palm rests on your hip as you come to a stop between his legs. 

Your fingers ghost over his lips, thumb holding his jaw as you lean forward and whisper in his ear, “Where should I start it then? You know, for future reference. Outside in front of all your friends? How about at the game? In front of your lock-”

The hand on your hip grips you harder, his other tugging on your chin and turning your face so he can look you in the eyes. The fingers so close to your neck has you extending it a little for him, wondering if he’ll wrap his hand around it like last time. But no, he just holds your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip and tugging a little meanly, but the result is still the same. Thighs slipping together in a search for some sort of friction, your breath catching in your chest just a little. 

He notices. 

He always notices.

Honey and moss eyes that glint with something that’s a little sharp - but never cruel - glance down at the movement and then back at your lips as he leans forward, voice just as quiet. “You’re being pretty fucking smart for someone who was just begging me to touch her, anywhere, in my car only a few hours ago.”

It only takes your lips parting under his thumb a little more when he smooths over it again, the hint of tobacco mixing with beer on his lips hitting your senses, and the buzz of his fingers pushing the hem of your short little dress higher for your hands to fall from his jaw, for the pretend confidence to falter. It’s how it always goes. 

So you shouldn’t be surprised at how your panties grow more damp when he kisses your bottom lip before he juts his out in a fake pout. “Poor baby,” his fingers have climbed higher, his smirk only growing more smug when his fingers brush over the wet lace, “She’s just a greedy lil thing, huh?”

Your whimper is embarrassing, and so is the press of your thighs around his hand. Your fingers curl into the sleeves of his shirt as he pulls away, a silent plea for him to stay.  

Steve leans his arms on the bed behind himself, propping up. He pushes his knee between your legs, nodding towards his thigh. His eyebrows raise, and you want to smack the smug look off of his face when he speaks again, his voice low, tinged with his own greed and want for you that he’d deny. 

“You want it? Take it.”

It’s not a surprise to either of you when you straddle his thigh, his fingers on your bare hips bruising as you rock back and forth. He’s still fully clothed, marking you up with pretty little bites across your sweating skin that you’ll never get to return the favor for. The party only gets louder beneath the two of you, the sky only grows darker, and your ache for it all to go differently for once never dulling.  

There’s always next time. 

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #superbly subpar steve spice #superbly subpar steve angst

[superblysubpar]

Im in the mood to feel the summer vibes. I want some sloppy smutty summer vibes with Steve. A handy on the carnival ferris wheel, still sticky sweet from your cotton candy? A steamed up car at the drive ins, making it work cramped up in the seat? Eating popsicles from the ice cream truck as summer sweat drips down your neck and Steve gets so turned on he can't help himself? Hooking up on the DL and you find yourself teasing at a backyard picnic full of friends? Caught in a warm summer rainstorm and peeling your wet clothes off of one another goes from giggles to groans real quick?

I dunno. Have at it. Do your worst. 🤷🏼‍♀️

the song: Tenderly by Nat & Alex Wolff

The cicada’s buzz loudly, mixing with croaks of frogs, the ground is littered with popcorn and forgotten cups. The film has faded to black, lightning bugs blinking for attention instead of the stars above as Steve runs his fingers through your hair where it fans across his chest. Your cheek squished into that soft spot you always squirm around to find, soft puffs of breath leave your parted lips, your bare legs tangled with his. 

He lifts his head, the cars have all gone, the attendants have locked doors, turning lights off and pulling the rack down over the concession booth, paying no mind to the blanket on top of the hill since it’s not a car. You’re officially alone, still time left in the summer nights that seem to last longer and neither of you work tomorrow. Steve feels a little selfish for wanting to wake you, for wanting to spend as much time with you as possible - there’s always tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. 

Steve twists one lock of your hair around his finger and moves his gaze back up to the stars, trying to remember the facts and theories you told him about last week. Your eyes lit up as you explained certain constellations and stories from the past that people believed to be true. You had stopped halfway through a sentence, hands in midair, eyes sparkling. Your fingers pressed to your lips as you shook your head, “I’m sorry, I’m talking a lot, I’ll-”

“I love you.” It had been a breath, a shot in the dark and his chest felt tighter than any of the other times he had said those words. For some reason he knew it was different this time, that it was real. 

Then you smiled, crawled into his lap. Your nose brushed his as your arms fell around his shoulders as you whispered, “You love me, huh?”

He had gulped loudly, embarrassingly, hands squeezing at your waist as he leaned into you and nodded. Your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly and causing him to shiver. He sighed against your lips, pulling you closer to his chest as he hummed. Pretending to be fine that you didn’t say it back immediately, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal, pretending like he wasn’t finding it hard to breathe as he changed the subject. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, wanna tell me more about that Orion guy? What’s his deal again? Why’s he disappear for the summer?”

You giggled, warmer against his cheek than the summer air and yet he shivered again as you sighed in his arms and laughed out a quiet, “Shit.”

He blinked at you and your hands cupped his jaw, thumbs rubbing across his cheeks, “I love you so much Steve Harrington.”

So is it really wrong for him to want to wake you up? To want to kiss you like he had that night and maybe some more? Is it wrong to-

A cool gust of wind whips at the ends of the blanket, touseling his hair and yours. Your arm draped over his stomach squeezes, pulling yourself against his body, hand slipping under his shirt and searching for warmth. 

Your head flips, resting a new cheek against his chest as you squint at him, lips twisting and voice groggy, “Good morning.”

Steve laughs, chest rumbling beneath you and your eyes open a little more, blinking away the heavy sleep as his fingers tuck hair behind your ear. His eyes are deep green and brown, moonlight reflected in them as he rubs his palm down your back and asks, “Good sleep?”

You scoot your body over him, legs falling between his as they bend and he pulls you tight against his chest. Your head glances over your shoulder and his thumb brushes over your pout as you groan, “I missed the whole movie?”

Thumb and forefinger holding your chin and jaw as he nods, lips fighting a smile, “Afraid so, think that was a new record for you.”

You moan, apologizing into his neck and he squeezes his arms around you and shrugs beneath you, “s’okay, wasn’t very good.”

Your lips kiss his jaw, just a quick press, but enough to have him swallow harshly, to squirm beneath you as you huff, “Wow, so I missed a bad movie and the opportunity to make out during it?”

You pull away, hands folding over his chest and grinning. He smirks, hands stilling on your back. Steve sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes, repeating his words dryly, “Afraid so.”

That’s how he ended up with you straddling him in the backseat of the maroon car. The windows fogged, condensation beating down them in rivulets that match the sweat glistening on your skin. You smell like peaches and cherry, he smells like mint and leather. Some slow song lazily crackling through the speakers that’s far too cheesy as Steve looks at you like that, like you’re the brightest star in the sky.  

His fingers brush over a bruise on your neck that’s darkening, his other hand cupping your jaw and pressing his nose into your cheek. Lips are glossy and slick with each other, hair rumpled from fingers. Your hips roll, hands reaching down to lift his shirt and Steve gasps out against your skin, kissing your jaw, “Wait…”

Your hands pause and his head hits the seat behind him as he adjusts underneath you. Head ducking down so he can look into your eyes as he says, “Can we go a little slower?”

Taken aback by his words, your mouth parts, your hands falter further and you nod. 

Steve’s hands cradle your jaw as he stares into your eyes, trying to memorize them, to memorize everything about you. Rough skin of calloused thumbs graze your cheeks, his breath is warm against your lips as he tilts his head. One hand slides along your jaw, tangling in your hair gently as he inhales briefly. Eyes glancing down at your lips before they close, soft touch of his mouth against yours. 

They lock together like the easiest puzzle pieces, a simple and gentle glide. His nose squishes yours, hand caressing your jaw and the other in your hair tipping you back for him. Steve sighs into your mouth as you open for him, your stomach flipping like the first time he kissed you and like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to do it again. Your hands fall to his neck, pulling each other closer like it was a plan you discussed beforehand.   

It’s one of those movie kisses, the breath in and breath out happening together - in sync. Any thoughts being erased from your brain, the desperate need to never let each other go. It’s butterflies, it’s melting like ice cubes in lemonade on a June day. It’s sunrises and sunsets and stories that make your eyes light up. Steve breathes your name into your mouth, holding your jaw and sucking on your bottom lip as his eyelashes flutter when you say his right back. It’s all so sweet and slow, like honey and brown sugar melting together. 

But when your fingers curl in his collar and you make that little noise, hips rolling against him and he moves his hands to your back, tongue licking over yours, warm summer things turn to hot and dirty quickly. Steve doesn’t wanna let you go, quick presses of his lips as you slide together, gasping into open mouths. Suddenly it’s desperate, it’s that drop on a rollercoaster in your stomach, Steve’s lips the popsicle and a cannonball in a pool after hours in the sun. His fingers grip at your hips, gliding you over his hard length in a filthy grind as your hands scratch at his scalp. 

The breathy and sweet name on his lips is now a moan, a plea and you nod, pulling him back into a deeper kiss. Tongues swirling together, teeth nipping at lips and bodies pressing together like you want to be stuck for the rest of your lives - superglued together. A want turned into a need in your chest that begged to crack out and crawl into his. 

Your breathing grows more shallow, your whine fills his ears. He watches you glance down to where your hips meet with your lip pulled between your teeth and your brows furrowed together. Steve grips your waist tightly, watching as you push against his shoulders and fight off an orgasm from just a little kissing, just the drag of his denim against you in the right spot. Your lip pops free, mouth falling open in a gasp of his name as he feels you soaking him. Fingers frantic on his belt, you murmur into his jaw, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Wanna go faster now, please?”

And how can he say no to that? 

The cicada’s buzz louder as tender touches grow more impatient. The lightning bugs no longer steal his attention. Steve will take his time tomorrow, or maybe the next day, or the next.

He has all summer. 

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #stranger things fanfic #superbly subpar steve spice

[superblysubpar]

https://www.tumblr.com/ancientsstudies/686252663055269888/tate-britain-by-vebriisfebruary

Museum drawing date with art!steve… 😌

You're so rude, Sarah

You know what I was thinking about? Something Steve Harrington would absolutely do?

You've been walking around the museum all afternoon, a perfect date with the backs of your hands brushing until he tangled his fingers in yours and they swayed together as you walked and drank coffee and talked about art and life and everything in between. Steve admits he likes making art, and doesn't really get talking about it, but he likes hearing you talk about it.

And then you're stopped in front of an artwork that just couldn't be ignored. And you actually inhaled sharply like they do in the movies and books and exhaled a "Wow. That's so beautiful." And then you asked him, "Don't you think?"

And he said, "I do."

And, shit, he really sounded like he did think it was beautiful, like it was the most true thing he'd ever said. So you turned to look at him, and he's just staring at you. Which made you far too warm for the beautiful Spring day and you giggled, brushing off his intense look with a quiet, "You're not even looking at the art, Harrington."

So Steve's gotta say the most cocky, corny, cliched, incredibly cheesy, too sweet line:

"You're the only artwork I see, honey."

You fall for it hard.

And I mean hard like the marble countertop he's pushing you into in the bougie bathroom he snuck you both into when nobody was looking. Just so you could look in the mirror as he had his way with you, so you could see what he sees and watch yourself as he whispered into your skin.

How he'd take a million photographs of the way your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth fell open saying his name when he slid inside of you too easily. How he'd paint every inch of you. How he'd sculpt every curve as he caressed them and you watched.

Being Steve Harrington's muse isn't so bad.

#art!steve harrington #taylor's asks 💛 #sarah ☀ #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #superbly subpar steve spice

[superblysubpar]

Happy Friday! Could I request prompt #22 with Steve and shy!reader?

Steve’s mouth trails down your neck, the scent of spearmint on his lips hits your senses as his breath warms your skin. He drags one finger through your folds, a slow and teasing circle on the edge of your clit before he dips lower again. 

“St-Stevie-please, I-” you whine, cut off by a quick kiss as your fingers tug on his collar. 

“Hey.”

Steve smiles against your jaw, fully clothed and eyes roaming over your naked body spread out on your comforter. It should be embarrassing, the way you’re on display for him, but it’s just hot. Your eyes glaze over as you watch his keep devouring you. 

His fingers slip too easily up and down your slit, coating your thighs in more slick as he hums. “She likes it when I take my time with her, huh?”

“Yeah, uh-huh.” Body squirming underneath him as your teeth dig into your bottom lip, nodding frantically - desperate for the burning in your stomach to keep building. You feel crazy, greedy for his fingers to finally give you what you want. 

But not yet - you don’t dare give up this teasing and what it’s doing to you. You need it to last.

“Honey, wake up…”

Your head lolls to the side, eyelids fluttering as you make another sound. Louder, and one that shoots little sparks across his brain, neurons firing and lighting up a very specific spot. 

Jesus fucking christ. 

He knows that sound. Steve Harrington has made other girls make that sound. 

You’re having a sex dream. 

“Steve.” Your hips shift and roll against the couch you’re draped across, his name leaves your lips clearer than the first time he only thought he heard it. Your forehead wrinkles and your lips form a soft pout. 

Steve’s mouth drops open, his grip on the paper sack of greasy take out and the strawberry shake he brought over as a surprise slipping. 

You’re not just having a sex dream. You’re having a sex dream about him. 

Steve’s tongue licks over his bottom lip and he takes a deep, calming breath through his nose, eyes roaming over your figure. Your little cotton sleep shorts and a ratty band tee he’s seen you in hundreds of times seem teasing, cruel, fucking downright sinful now. 

It’s not like looking at you this way is like, uncharted territory, he is a man with eyeballs and a dick who really likes that one top you wear. Sue him for maybe having your face creep into his thoughts a handful of times while he’s jerked himself off. It’s not that weird for your best friend to turn you on occasionally.

His head tilts as you sigh in your sleep, his cock straining in his jeans. 

Okay, maybe a little more than occasionally. 

He curses under his breath when your hips roll again, squeezing his eyes shut. 

What does he do? Keep watching you? No, Harrington, that is so pervy. Think with your brain and not your dick.

 Leave the food and run home and replay this moment in his head forever in the privacy of his bedroom? Yeah, that’s a better idea. 

“Steve?”

Your best friend’s eyes shoot open, a strawberry milkshake in his hand coating it in condensation and you avert your eyes, looking back up at his face quickly. You’re disgusting, thinking about his wet fingers in your dream - pull it together. 

“He-” he clears his throat and looks down, deepening his voice, “Hey. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Oh, um, that’s okay. You brought me food?” You sit up and pull your legs to your chest, suddenly aware that you definitely got more than a little aroused while sleeping. 

Steve sucks in his breath at the way your shorts reveal the start of the curve of your ass and looks up at the ceiling then the doorway, praying you can’t see his erection. “Uh, yeah. You said you had a bad day yesterday.”

“That’s really sweet, wanna eat with me? We can watch a movie or something?” Dropping your legs back down, you preoccupy yourself with finding the remote, body heating up as his weight makes the couch bounce when he sits next to you.

Right next to you. 

His thigh brushes the bare skin of yours, your shorts ride up slightly and Steve’s eyes track the fabric’s movement slowly, wishing he was wearing only his boxers so he could feel his skin against yours, stupid fucking jeans, why is he wearing-

“Steve?”

Your question derails his thoughts, and he turns his head, almost smacking his nose against yours. “Oh, shit, sorry, I’m…kind of close, huh?”

He doesn’t move away though, and you watch his adams apple bob, watch his eyes move slowly over your face until they meet yours. His voice comes out in a soft murmur, “I can…”

Maybe dream you is still occupying your brain, taken over, you’re not quite fully awake or something, because no way in hell would you normally have the confidence to do what you do next. 

Your lips brush his, parting over his top one in a short and over too fast kiss. You barely feel it, you want more. But you’re an idiot who just sort of kissed her best friend. 

Steve’s heart is thumping in his ears, he’s not sure he’s ever been more nervous in his entire life. He’s kissed loads of girls. He knows what he’s doing, he really does. But before his brain can sort out what’s happening, you’re already pulling away. 

“So-sorry,” you stutter, eyes going wide. 

He drops the food and shake on the coffee table, hand reaching towards your jaw, cold fingers cupping it as he pulls you back in. Steve’s mouth moves over yours patiently, like he’s tasting and memorizing. Softer than you expected, plush and warm, and so so so slow. His thumb brushes across your cheek, buzzes of electricity jolt through you, your stomach flips, your arms have goosebumps forming. 

Holy shit you’re kissing your best friend. 

Steve tries to relax, he wants to remember this, this isn’t like kissing other girls. He wants to take his time, but your lips fit with his like no one else's, his stomach is doing this thing that he can’t even explain and he almost busts in his jeans when you make a little gasp into his mouth when his tongue licks over your top lip. 

Holy fuck. 

Your fingers tug around his collar, soft cotton under the pads as you pull him even closer and Steve’s fingers curl around your chin, tugging down with his thumb so you open more for him. His other palm lands on your hip, and he actually can’t keep it still. He wants to map you out with his fingers and tongue, trace every curve and dip. His hand curls around your back, taking the hem of your shirt with a finger and now his skin touches yours. 

You pant against his mouth in an attempt for air but you can’t stay away, lips meeting again as your noses squish harder together. His tongue flicks against yours as his hand moves up your spine. Heated skin that reacts to his touch, your body actually shivers as his hand moves higher and his tongue works over yours a little messy and more than a little dirty.  

When Steve meets nothing the higher and higher he climbs on your skin his eyelids flutter and he gasps, “Are you, you’re not wearing-fuck.”

You laugh into his lips, and it’s like the sound pulls him back like a magnet. He hasn’t made out with someone like this since he was 16. Actually, he’s never made out with someone like this. He falls backwards on the couch, stretched out across it, taking you with him. Lips parting over yours as he squeezes at your sides, not daring to touch your boobs yet, sliding back down to your hips which you roll against him and he sees stars. 

When you breathe his name into his lips, gasping when the denim of his jeans hits you in just the right spot, you remember your dream and this isn’t it. This is real. This is your best friend.

“We, we should slow down,” you pull away, gasping for air. 

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, tongue licking over swollen and tinted red lips as he nods. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

You hold yourself up, palms flat to the cushion on either side of his head, but your hips remain pressed to his, swearing you feel the bulge beneath you twitch. Both of your chests heave in attempts for deeper breaths and when he opens his eyes, your body heats up under his stare. 

Golden eyes taken over by his blown out pupils and you clear your throat, embarrassed you came onto him so aggressively after years of friendship. You try to ignore the ache in your stomach as he reaches up and tugs on your chin. Steve kisses you once, just a sweet and soft kiss, before his forehead knocks to yours and he wraps his arms around you in a hug with a groan. 

“Okay, I-I know we should slow down. We should talk about this.” He kisses your temple, your jaw, moving to your neck because he really, truly can’t keep his hands or lips off of you. Years of repressed feelings and what if’s bursting out of him. You hum an agreement and your hips roll again and he groans into your neck, his scruff scratching and tickling you as he gasps out, “But, um, I need to, fuck, promise you won’t laugh?”

Steve takes your silence as agreement and he speaks into the sweat kissed skin of your neck, inhaling your perfume he wants to fall inside of the bottle of and drown, squeezing his eyes closed, “I gotta go jerk off or something cause I think I’m gonna be in actual physical pain if I don’t.”

Your laughter shakes over his whole body and he has to ignore how the movement sends another wave of euphoria through him straight to his dick. He squeezes you, fingers digging into your ribs, making you laugh more as he accuses and whines, “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

You push yourself up again with your palms, eyes sparkling, “I did not! I said literally nothing.”

He narrows his eyes and yours soften as you kiss him again, sighing long and heavy before you pull away. You nod and clear your throat, “Okay, but really, if you need to…”

Steve’s tongue licks out over his lip again, eyes bouncing between yours as he rubs his palm up your spine. You watch his cheeks begin to twinge pink, and then his ears so you ask, “What?”

He clears his throat and looks at your lips instead of your eyes, still rubbing up and down your back. “Were you, uh, having a sex dream earlier? About me?”

You try to fold in on yourself, tucking your chin down, trying to curl and hide away forever. How does he know?

Two of his fingers tap on the bottom of your chin, lifting it, his voice soft, “Hey, come on, talk to me.”

Unable to form words, you only nod, peeking one eye open and his cheeks flush darker. Steve’s hands move from your back to your arms still propping you up, rubbing up and down them as his hips flex, still painfully hard. “Have you, um, thought about…this, that, a lot? Like you and me?”

“Yeah,” the word is quieter than a breath and if your face weren’t right in front of him he may not have heard it. 

He nods and rolls his hips against yours, fighting a smile when your eyes flutter again. You watch his eyes continue to travel over your face, dark pupils still at the forefront as his voice drops into something raspier, gruff, deep from his chest after his neck extends and he clears his throat, “Have you…have you thought about me while touching yourself?”

“Steve,” you’re not sure if it comes out more as a scolding, embarrassed word, or more a plea for him to keep talking like that. 

Your entire body is on fire as he swallows loud enough for you to hear, hand moving up your neck and cupping your jaw again. Both of your bodies slide against one another as each of your breathing picks up again. His lips part over yours, other hand curling around the back of your neck. He breaks the kiss though and speaks against them before returning their movement. 

“Will you touch yourself? Show me how you do it?”

He nips at your bottom lip when you gasp at the question. You never thought Steve would be talking to you like this, not like the dreams you’ve had, not like what you imagine when you do exactly what he’s asking you to. 

His nose skims over your jaw when you don’t move away, when you don’t say no. His stomach flipping as he speaks quietly, “I wanna take my time, but I literally am gonna explode and if you didn’t finish in your dream I was just thinking-”

“Yes.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #superbly subpar spice

[superblysubpar]

For the blurb smut I would like to read something about Steve and Robin but I don’t really have an idea, maybe Robin has a crush for reader who is Steve’s girlfriend, she loves Steve but she has a crush for Robin too, so Steve decides to let his girl have fun? Maybe he teaches some tricks to Robin for making his girl fell good? Does it make sense? Obviously Steve and Robin won’t sexually interact with each other 💛

the song: Sin City by Chrishan

warnings: This one is all just smut with you and Steve, but mentions of what just happened with Robin throughout and he's a little jealous/possessive. I want it to be clear that this blurb is coming from the perspective of a bisexual woman, and that Robin is not a fetish to be used in fics and that is not my intention at all. 💛

"She was kissing my thighs and fuck-" Your hands tangle in his hair, his mouth on your neck latched on for dear life. His fingers bruise your waist as he drags you back down, flush against the coarse hair at his base.

Your hips roll, satisfying friction against your puffy clit as the sweat glistens on his tan and muscular shoulders in the moonlight coming in through the windows. The cold tile of the shower walls that soothed your heated skin a quickly fading memory.

Your neck burns from his teeth, his tongue licking at it as he pants into your skin, "Come on angel, you can do better than that."

"Her...her tongue...she, oh -" your words break off in a moan as he thrusts up into you a little meanly, abusing the spongy spot that you know only he can hit.

"Did she make you cum?" He breathes into your jaw, teeth nipping at your neck as it extends for him. Mouthing at the column of your throat as the pads of his fingers roll circles into your clit. "It sounded like it."

You're overwhelmed, Steve making you feel so good, but you can still feel Robin's tongue. Can still taste yourself on her mouth. Fingers through Steve's hair is compared to hers now. Gripping at his shoulders, you can still feel her smooth skin beneath yours. And the thought that he was right outside the door the entire time is too much.

"Yo-you were listening?" Gasping for air as he thrusts faster, your hips moved expertly up and down as his large palms shift to your ass and squeeze.

He hums, nose brushing over the shell of your ear, thrusts slowing again as he whispers, "You know I love your sounds, couldn't help myself..."

Steve rolls you suddenly, sliding back inside easily and the new position makes you moan loudly.

His palms press into the mattress on either side of your head, his hips meet yours in a fast and passionate thrust, the dirty pump in and slow drag out loud. The pornographic sound of you dripping for both of them filling the room and mingling with your cries of his name. It's not the same anymore now that you've had her name on your lips too.

His smile hovers over your mouth and he breathes heavily, "But I think we should show her what you sound like when you really cum, honey."

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfiction #superbly subpar steve smut #superbly subpar robin spice