pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader
summary: You only went to Family Video to drop off a tape for Robin, but the second you saw your boyfriend Steve in that uniform, your mind went somewhere else entirely. Weeks of secretly craving him in that uniform finally catch up to you and what starts as innocent flirting quickly turns heated when Steve notices the way you’re looking at him.
wc: 3k
warnings: +18 (MDNI), explicit nsfw, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, dirty talk, semi-public sex, dom!steve, fingering, multiple orgasms, fingers in mouth, hickeys, reader being turn on with steve's family video uniform, jealousy, sub!reader, fem!reader.
author's note: hey guys... so i've been thinking about family video steve so much lately i wanted to write about it... that fucking uniform will kill me.
You had been dating Steve Harrington for six months, and you were convinced that no one in the history of Hawkins had ever been as hopelessly in love as he was with you.
He showed it in every action he did.
The way he memorized your coffee order. The way he’d show up at your house at 2 a.m. when you couldn’t sleep. The way he looked at you like you hung the moon and stars, even on your worst days.
Steve loved you deeply, openly, and with his whole heart. But lately, something else has taken over your mind completely.
It was the Family Video uniform.
The green vest. That stupid cheap green vest that somehow looked criminal on him. It stretched perfectly across his shoulders and chest, hugging every line of muscle he’d built from years of basketball and fighting monsters that no one else believed.
The polo underneath clung to his body, the short sleeves tight around his biceps and it made your mouth water.
Every time he reached up to grab a tape from the top shelf or leaned over the counter to help a customer, the fabric pulled tight across his chest and your brain went straight to the gutter.
You had been ridiculously, shamefully turned on by that uniform for weeks. You tried to hide it. You told yourself it was silly.
But every time you saw Steve wearing it, your pussy throbbed, your thighs pressed together, and your mind filled with filthy thoughts about him fucking you in the back room while still wearing it.
Today, you couldn’t take it anymore.
You walked into Family Video a little after 5 p.m., telling yourself you were only there to drop off the new horror tape for Robin. That was the official story. The real reason became obvious the second you saw him.
Steve was on the phone behind the counter, looking unfairly hot. The green vest fit him like it was made for him.
It stretched across his shoulders and chest, accentuating every muscle.
His hair was still perfectly styled despite the long shift, a few strands falling over his forehead. When he laughed at something the customer said, that warm, charming sound went straight between your legs.
You walked up to the counter slowly, eyes shamelessly dragging over his body. Steve noticed you immediately. His hazel eyes locked onto yours and his professional smile turned into something softer, more intimate.
“Yeah, we’ve got three copies left,” he said into the phone, but his gaze never left you. “We can hold one for you until tomorrow… No problem at all.” He hung up without saying goodbye, dropping the phone on the counter with a clatter.
He rounded the counter in three long strides and pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck.
“Missed you,” he murmured against your skin. “Been thinking about you all day.” You melted into him, breathing in his familiar scent mixed with the faint smell of the store.
“I missed you too,” you whispered. “Steve… Can we talk in the back for a second? I need to tell you something” He pulled back, concern flashing across his face.
“Everything okay?”
Before you could reply, two girls who looked like they were home from college walked up to the counter, giggling loudly.
“Hi Steve,” the blonde one said, twirling her hair with a flirty smile. “We need help finding a movie for date night. Something romantic… or maybe something that sets the mood, you know?”
The brunette leaned on the counter, pushing her chest forward. “We always trust your taste. You always know exactly what we need.”
You felt a sharp twist of jealousy in your stomach. These girls flirted with him shamelessly every single time they came in.
Steve was too nice to shut it down harshly, but it still annoyed you. He gave them his polite customer-service smile.
“Sure. What kind of vibe are you going for?” The blonde batted her lashes.
“Something that makes you want to get closer to someone. You know… something steamy.” You crossed your arms, biting the inside of your cheek.
Steve noticed your expression immediately and his smile turned just a little smug as he glanced at you.
“Actually,” he said smoothly, “my girlfriend has great taste in movies. Babe, you want to help them pick something?” The girls turned to look at you, their smiles fading slightly.
You forced a sweet smile and recommended a movie, keeping your voice polite but cool. The moment they left with their tapes, Steve leaned over the counter toward you, voice low and teasing.
“You jealous, sweetheart?” he asked, eyes sparkling with amusement.You narrowed your eyes at him.
“They were practically throwing themselves at you. Again. The way that brunette was leaning over the counter and pushing her chest out….” Steve chuckled, low and warm.
He reached out and gently brushed his thumb along your wrist under the counter.
“They’re just customers, baby. You know I only have eyes for you.” You huffed, still feeling the sting of jealousy.
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it. They do this every time. Flirting with you like I’m not standing right here.” Steve’s expression softened. He leaned closer, voice dropping even lower.
“You know you’re the only one I want, right? No one else gets me like this.” He squeezed your hand. “Come on. Let’s go to the back so you can help me with work.”
Steve’s eyes darkened. He took your hand and led you through the employees-only door into the small storage room at the back.
The moment the door clicked shut, he had you pressed against the wall, mouth crashing into yours.
“Tell me what’s going on, baby,” he whispered between kisses, hands sliding under your sundress. “You’ve been looking at me like that for weeks. What’s got you so worked up?” You moaned softly, fingers gripping the green vest tightly.“
"This is ridiculous to say," you said nervously, afraid he would make fun of you. "I mean, it's embarrassing."
"Darling, I would never think such a thing about what you say or think." He ran a hand along your cheek. "Tell me."
‘’It’s this uniform,” you admitted, voice shaky with need. “Steve, I can’t stop thinking about it. You look so fucking hot in it. The way it fits your shoulders, your chest, your arms… I’ve been soaked for weeks just thinking about you wearing it while you fuck me.”
Steve groaned, pressing his hips against yours so you could feel how hard he already was.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathed. “You’ve been suffering because of this stupid green vest? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He kissed you harder, tongue sliding against yours as his hands roamed your body. “I love you so much,” he murmured. “I’d wear this vest every day if it makes you this desperate for me.”
His hand slid into your panties, fingers finding you dripping wet. He groaned low in his throat.
“Jesus Christ, sweetheart. You’re soaked. All this just from seeing me in the uniform?” You nodded.
Steve didn’t waste another second. He spun you around and pressed your chest against the cold metal shelves, yanking your sundress up to your waist with one rough tug.
His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your thighs, letting them pool at your ankles.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.
You obeyed immediately, widening your stance. Steve’s hand moved between your thighs from behind.
His fingers teased your soaked folds for a moment, spreading your wetness, before he pushed two thick fingers inside you in one smooth, deep thrust.You gasped sharply, gripping the shelf in front of you.
“Steve— fuck— yes… I can’t help it. You look so good in this uniform. It makes me want you so bad…” He started pumping his fingers slowly at first, curling them upward to stroke that perfect spot inside you with every thrust.
His thumb found your clit and rubbed slow, firm circles around it.
He leaned in, pressing his chest against your back, lips brushing your ear as he fingered you deeper.
“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low and dominant. “So fucking desperate for me. You came all the way here pretending you wanted to see Robin, but we both know you just wanted my cock while I’m wearing this uniform.” You whimpered, gripping his shoulders.
He added a third finger, stretching you wider. The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you filled the small storage room.
“Listen to how wet you are,” he growled, moving faster. “You’re making such a mess on my hand, baby. So fucking sloppy for me.”
Your legs started shaking. Steve wrapped his free arm around your waist to hold you up, still fucking you with his fingers.
“You’re clenching so tight around my fingers,” he said, voice full of dark satisfaction. “You gonna cum already? Just from my fingers? That’s how desperate you are for me?’’
”Yes— Steve. I’m so close...” you moaned, voice breaking.He curled his fingers harder, rubbing your clit faster with his thumb.
“Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers. Let me feel it.”
You came hard with a broken cry, walls clenching rhythmically around his three fingers. Your thighs trembled violently as pleasure crashed through you.
Steve didn’t stop, continuing to pump his fingers through your orgasm, drawing it out until you were whimpering and oversensitive.
When he finally pulled his fingers out, they were shiny and dripping with your arousal. He brought them to your mouth.
“Open,” he commanded.You parted your lips and he slid his fingers inside. You sucked them obediently, tasting yourself while looking up at him with hazy eyes.
“Good girl,” Steve praised, voice rough. “Taste how sweet you are for me.”
“Please, Steve. I need you…” He kissed you deeply, tasting you on your own tongue, before dropping to his knees again.
“Now let me taste you properly.”
Steve buried his face between your thighs without hesitation. His tongue dragged slowly from your entrance up to your clit in one long, wet stripe. You gasped, legs shaking as you gripped the shelf tighter.
“Steve— oh my god.” He groaned against you, the vibration sending shivers up your spine.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he mumbled. “So wet and sweet for me. Been thinking about this pussy all day.” His tongue was relentless.
He licked broad, flat strokes through your folds, savoring every drop of your arousal, then focused on your swollen clit with firm, precise circles.
He sucked your clit into his mouth, humming happily as your thighs trembled around his head.
Your hands flew to his hair, gripping tightly. You moaned loudly, one hand flying to his hair, gripping it tightly.
“Steve— fuck... your mouth feels so good… don’t stop, please.” He slid two fingers back inside you, curling them against that perfect spot while his tongue worked your clit faster.
The wet, filthy sounds of him devouring you filled the small room; loud slurping, his groans of pleasure, and your desperate moans.
“You’re dripping down my chin, baby,” he groaned, looking up at you with dark eyes, lips shiny with your arousal. “Such a messy, needy girl. You love when I eat this pretty pussy, don’t you?”
“Yes— yes. I love it,” you whimpered. “Steve, please. I’m so close...” He sucked harder on your clit, fingers pumping faster.
His free hand gripped your ass, spreading you wider so he could bury his tongue even deeper and your thighs started shaking.
“Cum for me,” he growled against you.
“Cum on my tongue, baby. Let me taste it.” You came hard, crying out his name, hips grinding against his face as pleasure crashed over you.
Steve didn’t stop, licking you through it, drawing out every last wave until your legs were trembling. When he finally pulled back, his lips and chin were glistening. He stood up, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his tongue.
“You taste so fucking good,” he whispered. “But I need to be inside you now.”
He spun you around, pressing your chest against the shelves. He pushed your dress up to your waist, lined up the thick head of his cock at your entrance, and rubbed it slowly up and down your soaked folds.
“Steve…” you whimpered, pushing back against him desperately. He gripped your hip with one hand and leaned in close, lips brushing your ear.
“You ready for me, baby?” he asked, voice dark. “I’m really fucking hard… and I’m not gonna go slow.”
Before you could answer, he thrust forward, pushing the thick head of his cock inside you. You gasped sharply at the stretch.
Steve was big —thick and long— and the sudden fullness made your eyes roll back.
“Fuck— Steve… you’re so big,” you moaned, gripping the shelf tighter.
He groaned deeply, pushing in another inch, then another, stretching you open slowly but relentlessly.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Steve groaned, gripping your hips. “This pussy was made for me.” He started fucking you deep and steady, one hand sliding up to squeeze your breast while the other held your hip.
“Yes— God, Steve… you’re so…you’re so big…”
“Quiet, baby,” he warned, pounding into you harder. “Don’t want anyone hearing how well I’m fucking you while I’m still in uniform.” You tried, but it was impossible.
One of his hands moved up to your mouth.
“Open,” he ordered. You parted your lips and he slid two thick fingers inside, pressing them against your tongue.
“Suck,” he commanded, still pounding into you from behind. “Suck my fingers while I fuck you.”
You moaned around his fingers, sucking them obediently as he fucked you harder. His other hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust.
Steve felt too good. He reached around and rubbed your clit in tight circles, mouth against your ear.
Steve leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, fucking you deep and rough.
“That’s it,” he panted. “Suck my fingers like a good girl while I ruin this pussy. You love it when I’m rough, don’t you?”
You nodded frantically, sucking harder on his fingers.
“You’re clenching so tight around me, you gonna cum for me again? Gonna cream all over my cock while I’m wearing this uniform?”
You moaned loudly around his fingers, nodding desperately. Steve pulled his fingers out of your mouth, replacing them with his lips in a messy, desperate kiss as he kept fucking you hard.
“Yes— Steve— I’m so close—”
“Cum, baby. Let me feel it.” You came hard, clenching around him. Steve didn’t stop. He pulled out, spun you around, lifted you onto a stack of boxes, and thrust back inside you.
“Gonna fill you up,” he growled. “Gonna pump you so full of my cum. You want that? Want me to breed you right here while I’m wearing this uniform?”
“Yes— please, Steve. Fill me up. I want it so bad.” Steve fucked you harder, hands gripping your thighs.
“Gonna put a baby in you one day,” he panted. “But right now I’m gonna fill this pussy until it’s leaking down your legs.” You came again, crying out into his mouth.
Steve followed right after, burying himself deep as he spilled inside you with a deep groan, filling you with hot, thick ropes of cum.
He stayed inside you, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.
“Best… day… ever,” he whispered. You smiled, still feeling him twitching inside you.
“I love you, Steve.’’
He kissed you once more, slow and sweet, before carefully pulling out.
You both rushed to make yourselves look somewhat presentable; you fixing your dress and smoothing your hair, Steve tucking himself back into his pants and trying to straighten his wrinkled green vest.
Just as Steve leaned in to steal one last kiss, the door to the storage room swung open.
Robin stepped inside, holding a plastic bag from the diner across the street and a drink carrier.
“Hey dingus, I brought you — oh. Oh wow.” She stopped dead in her tracks.Her eyes slowly scanned the scene: Steve’s flushed face and messy hair, the very obvious hickeys on his neck, your disheveled dress, and the unmistakable smell of sex in the small room.
Robin’s expression went from surprise to pure, dramatic disgust in record time.
“Oh my God,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“You have got to be kidding me. In the storage room? While I was gone for fifteen minutes getting lunch? Really, Harrington? You couldn’t keep it in your pants for one afternoon?” You felt your face burn bright red. You hid against Steve’s chest, mortified.
Steve tried to play it cool, but his ears were pink.
“We were… restocking.” Robin let out a loud, sarcastic laugh.
“Restocking. Sure. That’s what they’re calling it now? Because from where I’m standing it looks like you were restocking her uterus.”
She shook her head, walking further into the room despite her complaints.
“I swear, I leave for ten minutes to get you a burger, and you decide to turn the storage room into your personal love den. Classy. Really classy.”
You peeked out from Steve’s chest, face still burning.
“Sorry, Robin…” you mumbled, embarrassed. Robin looked at you and her expression softened just a tiny bit, but the sarcasm remained.
“Oh don’t apologize to me. Apologize to the poor boxes that are never going to be the same. I’m never eating lunch in this room again. Ever. I’m scared for life.”
She pointed at Steve with one of the drink cups.
“And you. Fix your vest. You look like you just got railed by a very enthusiastic girlfriend. Which… you did.” Steve laughed, pulling you closer to his side.
“Worth it,” he said, grinning.Robin rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful.
“Disgusting. Both of you. I’m going back to the front before I throw up. And Steve? If I see one single suspicious stain on any of these boxes, you’re cleaning the entire store.” She turned to leave and walked out, slamming the door behind her.
Steve let out a loud laugh, burying his face in your hair.
“We are never living this down,” he mumbled. You groaned, still blushing furiously, hiding your face in his chest.
“Kill me now.” Steve kissed the top of your head, arms wrapping tighter around you.
“admit that you like having me as your roommate.” he clarified.
you scoffed, hoping the sound would drown out the jump your heartbeat made. “no, i—i don’t.”
he smirked and the sight was so foreign to you, so new that you wanted to curse out when you felt it go straight between your legs.
“I don’t. you leave your dirty laundry everywhere, you eat my avocados as soon as they ripen, and you use my toothbrush all the time—“
“as if i haven’t been in your mouth before.”
you stepped closer to block anyone from hearing it. “are you insane?” you whisper-yelled.
but he still had that shit-eating grin plastered over that beautiful face of his. he whispered back in that smooth tone of his, “you wanna pretend living with me is some kind of nightmare, but we both know you like the…benefits.”
“oh, like what? having to listen to your horrible singing voice in the shower?” you retorted.
he shifted on his feet as he pretended to contemplate the matter, “that or making you cum three times in one night.”
you slapped a hand over his mouth, looking around to make sure none of the other student doctors were nearby, or worse, princess and perlah.
“you said we wouldn’t talk about that at work,” you muttered.
he gently peeled your hand down from his lips, “we did, but now you’re taking robby’s offer personally.” he whispered.
you stepped back, schooling your expression back to a neutral one. you shrugged, “fine. go house-sit and water his plants for all i care. maybe even stop by amy’s farm for a weekend and don’t come back.”
you shoved past him and he sighed, adjusting his stethoscope. javadi stood back with wide eyes filled in awe, “that was the best thing i’ve ever seen.”
+
“fuck, fuck, fuck, dennis!”
he knew the best way back into your heart was through your pussy. he held your thighs around his head, his biceps bulging to keep you firmly rooted in place. his tongue was maddening, moving between your folds, your clit, and around the rim of your entrance.
he had you blabbering, “don’t go, please don’t go, j-just stay and be my roommate.”
he raised his head for a moment, catching his breath. the view of his slick-covered jaw had you clenching around nothing.
“there it is. was that so hard to admit?” he murmured, wetting his fingers in his mouth.
you shuddered but managed to respond with, “f-fuck you.”
“i know you want to, but i still need to make you cum on my tongue, sweetheart. need to earn my rent, don’t i?” he replied before diving back in.
if robby gets a text later from dennis about how he can’t house-sit anymore, he’ll pretend he didn’t hear javadi gossiping with princess about it.
listen baby… pitt three way where it just starts with jack and he loves you to the friggin moon but you’re just so young and needy an he is old (hot) and I kind of imagine he’d maybe be on an ssri so he’s doing his best sex wise, he just worries he’s not keeping up :( thank fucking god robby starts showing an interest in you because two dicks is so much better than one for keeping up with a young woman’s sex drive! however, as we know, robby is also old (also hot). so that’s when they have to enlist frank. the closer. they’ll do their thing and by that point you’re pretty sweet and sated but still needy, just how frank wants you 😏
you and jack finish and you’re ready for round two immediately, but he just can’t keep up with that. his refractory period is long, even longer now that he’s older. “sweetheart, i can kiss your pretty pussy for a little while but i can’t do another round.” you’re looking at him with a disappointed face, your brows turned inward and your lips presenting with a frown. with a quickness, you wipe the unsatisfied expression from your face because you don’t want to make jack feel even worse than he already does.
that’s when robby comes into play. after you finish around jack’s cock, your cunt drenched with his orgasm and your own slick, you’re ready to go again. you just can’t get enough of the way jack presses against your g-spot and stimulates you from every angle. “you want michael to give you some more, baby? look how needy you still are…” jack trails off, opening your legs just enough to see your cunt flutter around nothing. “poor baby, you just need a little more, don’t you?”
robby keeps up as much as he can, but you just want to keep going. they’re starting to question how active your libido is because you should be satiated by now. with whines and pouts, they decide to reach out to frank. he’s a little younger, he can keep up with someone like you. frank coos at you when he sees you splayed across the bed. your blissed out expression from getting thoroughly fucked is so sweet. “you need me to finish you up, sweetheart? let me take a look,” he says as he spreads your legs open, slipping his body in between to press his cock against your wet folds and tease the slit with his tip. “so wet, baby.. let me put you to sleep, my good girl.”
going off that last ask abbot would be the type of guy to never actually count down to 1 lmao hed pull the "five, four, three..... three and 3/4...... three and 1/2....." hes too nice
18+ MDNI
ugh yesssss jack sees robby do it and sees the way it makes you spring into action so he gives it a try. one night you’re sitting on the couch and jack tells you to go help robby with the dishes… when you don’t move he starts counting, but you barely even look up from your phone, totally unbothered. and he definitely does that ^^ because he wasnt expecting you to push it and make him actually have to punish you
robby hears it all from the kitchen and calls out “Two!” and your eyes widen and you jump right to your feet and jack’s like :/
you rush into the kitchen and robby pinches your ass when you pass by him </3 “When Jack tells you to do something you listen, brat.” then, louder and a bit singsongy to jack: “If you’re gonna give a countdown you better be ready to follow through!”
Jumping off the daddy Robby Drabble do you think the opposite ever happens. As we know Jack can get a little mean sometimes and Robby just eggs it in. Does jack ever get called sir or would Robby not allow that??!
18+ mdni
if anything i actually kinda see jack being the one who puts a stop to it and robby’s more amused than anything. like jack’s being all strict and harsh, getting you in that hyper-obedient state robby usually gets you in, and when he tells you to “Get on your back and open your legs” you immediately chirp “yes, sir”
and that makes robby chuckle and say “Uh oh, brother, you’re getting demoted.”
and jack will kinda smirk at you but there’s also some disapproval behind his eyes as he grips your thighs and runs his cock through your slit. “Oh yeah, honey, is that who I am now?” He taps his leaking tip against your clit with a wet slap slap. “I stop bein’ soft on you for one night and m’not your daddy anymore? Just like that?”
Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader x Steve Harrington Wc: 10.3k
Description: Eddie accidentally walks in on Steve fucking you in a WSQK storage closet. He thinks he’s doomed to a life of fantasizing over you with the only company of his right hand, until…Steve himself offers him a golden ticket straight to your bed: a threesome.
Warnings/tags: threesome smut, all are adults, fem!reader, established relationship with S5!Steve, no spoilers, Eddie survives S4 bc I say so, mentions of his scars, voyeurism, eddie fantasizes a lot, he jerks off a lot more, porn with plot, dry humping, oral male rec, fingering, piv sex, reverse cowgirl, both men are whipped for you.
Note: Surprise, new boy in the harem✨ No I don’t know how this happened, or how it ended up being so long but all I can say is merry early christmas my dears, enjoy the filth!! 🫦
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he’s so obsessed with me and boy I understand
Eddie Munson had never hated the sun before.
Not until he saw it in your smile.
You were standing in front of him at the crawl meeting, giggling at something Robin had said, soft and golden in the way that only you could be, wearing Steve’s stupid jacket that by this point was pretty much your own.
Because he was.
Steve Harrington, Mr. Perfect Hair himself, asshole turned part time hero, was the guy who got to hold your hand in public. Eddie didn’t hate him. Not really. He wanted to, wanted it bad sometimes, when the jealousy itched too deep to scratch.
He’d hated him at some point, when Dustin wouldn't shut up about how incredible his friend was. But alas, after everything they’d been through last year and Steve being the one who got him out of that hellhole, he really couldn’t hate him anymore.
So, he hated the sun. Because he couldn't have it.
Eddie also hated himself for not speaking up sooner. For watching you fall in love with someone else while he sat in the background. And maybe that was his punishment. Maybe that was the price for every time he chickened out, every time he saw you in the hallway in that little cherry red jacket and panicked, ducking behind his locker like a coward.
Maybe if he hadn’t been, you would be wearing his jacket now.
“Dude, wipe your face. You’re one drool away from filling the bucket,” came a voice from beside him, and undoubtedly by the tone–it had to be Henderson’s.
Eddie snapped out of his trance by the sharp nudge of Dustin’s elbow. Shit. He hadn’t even realized he was watching.
“I’m not,” he lied, even as he tilted his head just enough to catch another glimpse of you, this time laughing as Steve tried to sneak a kiss and Robin dramatically fake gagged next to you.
Jesus, Eddie was about to gag for real.
“You’re staring again,” Dustin chuckled, walking away after patting him condescendingly on the back.
Eddie shot him a glare but didn’t argue back. Because what was the point?
All he could do was fantasize when it came to you. You would never look at him the same way you look at Steve.
You just looked at him like he was funny. Your metalhead friend. And Eddie? Eddie looked at you like you hung the goddamn stars.
Things were finally looking up for Eddie. For once.
Aside from his not so little crush situation, everything else seemed to be getting better.
After almost dying being devoured by supernatural creatures–which, in his opinion would’ve been a very metal death–his uncle’s trailer had gotten split in half, and he’d gotten piles and piles of medical bills from his long recovery. Which led to him having to find a part time job as a mechanic besides his little dealing business.
Oh! And how could he forget? The police department was still investigating him about the murders from last year.
Between that, his job, the incessant crawls every week, and his therapy–both physical and psychological–he had absolutely no time to host hellfire anymore. Dustin had tried to keep it alive, but bless his soul, no one compares to Eddie Munson when it comes to being DM.
But last week, by some miracle, he’d finally, finally been cleared as “innocent” due to lack of evidence and was able to start living a normal life again. His therapy sessions had been reduced to once every two weeks, and he’d also repaired a few fancy cars that earned him a pretty juicy commission.
So yeah. Things were finally looking up for him after whatever the hell ‘86 was.
So, with a pep in his step, he walked through the doors of the WSQK headquarters holding a cardboard box with all his stuff for that day’s campaign. Robin had told him they had a spare room on the back, and Steve said he could go earlier to set everything up. He even whistled as he strolled through the empty hallways of the radio station.
He saw two doors at the end, figuring he’d open both and find out which one he was supposed to settle in.
But as all Munsons tend to run out of luck at some point, it seems like the curse finally hit him again when he opened the wrong one and changed the course of his entire fucking life.
Because what he didn’t expect, what absolutely no one warned him about, was that you and Steve liked to use the storage closet to fuck like bunnies before anyone arrived at the station.
He froze at the door, the box in his hand hanging on for dear life as he took in the scene in front of him.
There you were.
Propped up on a stack of cardboard boxes with Steve between your legs, your skirt was bunched around your hips, and your knees high on his waist. Your face was flushed, hair a mess and you were letting out choked little gasps because you couldn’t form words anymore.
Eddie’s heart stopped. He might’ve as well died for real this time.
You let out a startled sound, grabbing Steve’s shoulders to hide yourself the second you saw Eddie standing there. Steve just glanced back over his shoulder, not even bothering to stop.
“Dude. Do you mind?”
Eddie slammed the door shut.
He walked out of WSQK like he’d seen a ghost. Didn’t even say a word to Dustin, who was just pulling up on his bike.
He just got in his van, and drove straight into the woods far enough to be alone. And for the next ten minutes, the only sound in that van was the furious pumping of his hard cock into his hand and his broken, desperate moans repeating something.
Your name. Again. And again.
And again.
Then, after going back and giving a poor excuse to his boys as to why he couldn’t host that day and had to leave immediately (one that actually meant sorry guys! Gotta jerk off like 10 more times!) He went to repeat the same routine back at the small place Wayne managed to rent after the “earthquakes” had destroyed his trailer.
He turned off the lights of the room he called his now. Lit a blunt just for something to do with his free hand. Threw on a loud tape to drown out the grunts and the pathetic moaning, and his fist went to town–again–to the memory of you.
The way you looked in that closet.
The arch of your back against the boxes. The sound of your voice breaking as you moaned his name–not Eddie’s, no, the one you belonged to. Steve. The way your fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer, as if he wasn’t deep enough. And your face…
God. Your fucking face.
Blissed out and flushed, swollen lips parted, eyes half-lidded and completely lost in it. No cheap porn film he’d ever watched compared to that. No–you were the most obscene thing Eddie had ever seen in his life and it was burned into him now. Engraved into the insides of his lids. No amount of blinking could unsee it.
No amount of jerking off could erase it.
(He tried. Many times.)
People had sex all the time. This shouldn’t be on his head 24/7. But…Eddie couldn’t believe that was you.
He’d always seen you as soft. As the sweet girl giggling at Steve’s dumb jokes while playing with his stupid perfect hair. As the one who would mediate when a crawl meeting got too heated when someone didn’t agree with the plan. As the one who always listened to everyone…even him.
You even called him Eds once, so softly, that he’d walked around with chest pain for a full day like a goddamn lovesick teenager.
But now?
Now he couldn’t stop imagining how your voice sounded when it wasn't innocent. Couldn’t stop remembering how your legs looked parted open, how your thighs shook as Steve thrusted harshly into you.
He should’ve known better though, that was on him. He should’ve known that someone who once held the title of “King Steve” would be the one to corrupt a girl like you.
Who wouldn’t want to?
He couldn’t stop wondering what it’d feel like to be the one between your legs. To have you whimpering like that. To see you fall apart and know he did that. That he got you that high, that far gone…that wrecked.
He was fucking haunted by the fantasy. And it wasn’t lust, it was worse than that. It was curiosity, obsession, need.
The need to be the one who fucks the sweetness out of you.
But now you were probably curled up in Steve’s bed, fast asleep on his hairy chest, wearing one of his shirts and dreaming about getting fucked by him, while Eddie dreamt of you after he didn’t have anything left to milk out.
He dreamt of your hand in his curls. Your thighs around his waist. Your voice in his ear breaking with his name over and over and…over.
Eddie tried to be normal after that. God, he tried.
At least you seemed to be normal. You walked into Thursday movie night at Nancy’s like nothing had happened, dropping onto the couch next to Steve with a bag of popcorn, listening to whatever Robin said, still sweet and smiley and wearing one of Steve’s jackets.
He told himself not to stare. Repeated it like a goddamn mantra.
Don’t look, Munson. Don’t fucking look. You’ll just embarrass yourself. You’ll make it weird.
But then your eyes met, and you smiled at him, and…Eddie forgot his own name.
His mouth opened, but no words came out. Just a squeak that could’ve been the start of a sentence, or a heart attack. He pretended to cough into his fist and buried himself deeper into the armchair.
And Steve? Oh he noticed.
Not just Eddie’s reaction, but all of it. The way Eddie’s eyes had locked onto you from the moment you walked in. The way they dropped lower every time you shifted. The way his fingers gripped the armrest.
And the weird part? Steve didn’t get mad. He just smirked, knowingly, even amused by the whole thing.
The next time something altered Eddie’s brain chemistry, was at the diner.
He’d arrived late, mainly because he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to go in the first place, but the thought of seeing your smile was enough to convince him to walk through that door, and soon it was just him, Robin, and the perfect couple.
Eddie looked at you from across the booth, wearing an outfit that he was sure would ruin his life later when he was alone back in his room. You were sipping from your milkshake, the pink straw pressed between your lips, as you let out a hum of contempt at the sweet taste. All Eddie could think was that could be something else.
Thank God for Robin’s need to ramble about everything that happened on her date with Vicky that weekend, that you and Steve were focused on her and not on Eddie’s anxious leg bouncing under the table.
Or at least that’s what he thought.
“Eds, take some fries,” you offered sweetly when Robin ran out of air, pushing the plate you’d been eating from with Steve toward him.
Eddie hadn’t ordered anything, he wasn’t hungry–at least not for actual food–and of course you’d noticed and offered him some of your own.
“Yeah man, go ahead,” Steve chimed in with a smile that was enough to freak him out. “I don’t mind sharing,” he added with a shrug, placing an arm around your shoulders, hazel eyes piercing into Eddie’s with a devilish glint.
The implication left Eddie frozen in place, hand hovering over the fries as you began talking with Robin again, unaware of the way your boyfriend’s comment had left Eddie stunned.
Steve didn’t say anything else. Just kept looking at him, head tilted, like he knew something. Like he felt it now.
The shift.
Eddie almost got up and left, but then he caught Steve’s eyes, and the bastard just winked.
Jesus Christ.
You’re still breathless when Steve flips you onto your back again, mind stuck somewhere between heaven and passing out as your sore body still feels every inch of him buried deep inside you.
He drapes you across his chest knowing you can’t hold yourself up anymore, bare skin sticky with sweat, your cheek pressed over his heartbeat. Steve's hand goes to your thigh, fingers brushing softly where he’d held you down minutes ago.
You don’t want to move. You never want to after he’s done with you. So you just cling tightly to him, letting out a dreamy sigh and nuzzling closer, planting a soft kiss over his racing heart.
Steve smiles, shifting just enough to see your blissed out face. “You okay over there?”
“Mmhm,” you hum. “Can’t feel my soul. Congratulations, Harrington.”
That makes him chuckle. He kisses the top of your head. “Anytime, baby.”
As his room settles into silence and you begin drifting off in his arms before he can drag you into taking a shower, Steve’s chest vibrates against your skin when he speaks again.
“Hey,” he whispers, absentmindedly playing with your hair which doesn’t help your heavy eyelids closing.
“Hmm?”
“Do you ever notice the way Eddie looks at you?”
Your eyes blink open immediately.
You don’t say anything at first. Just start tracing lazy little circles on a particular scar on his ribs, pretending to think about it, but you already know the answer.
“Yeah,” you smile, “I’ve noticed.”
Steve hums, hand still resting on your thigh.
“It’s probably just a silly little crush,” you add, as if you didn’t know how Eddie’s voice breaks every time you spare a glance at him. Or the way his hands shake when you ask him to hand you a drink on movie night. “He’s just… traumatized from the time he caught us back at the station,” you chuckle.
“Oh, baby. You should’ve seen his face in that closet.” Steve snorts. “You were extra loud that day, you really put on a show for him–the lucky bastard.”
“What?” You ask, straightening up on his chest. “You knew he was going to get there earlier?”
“I was hoping he got there earlier."
You smack his arm with your mouth wide open, but a smile tugs at your lips. He grins like the bastard he is, shifting to ease you again into his embrace.
“Don’t worry baby, I might have a way to fix him right back up,” he says smugly, those impossible hazel eyes glinting with mischief. “…Remember that talk we had a while back? Couple months ago. About maybe…bringing in a third?”
Your heart thumps so fast against your chest that you’re sure Steve can feel it on his.
“…Yeah,” you say. “I remember.”
“What if…it was him?” He shrugs, like he’s discussing what movie to watch. “I’m just saying, we’ve both noticed. And maybe…” His hand drifts lower down your thigh, finding that place where you’re still sensitive. “Maybe it’s fun to imagine what he’d do if we invited him.”
His fingers press against your wet folds, easily sliding in and drawing a gasp out of you. His eyebrows shoot up, like he’d managed exactly what he wanted.
“See? Don't you want to show him again how pretty you sound?”
Maybe it’s the overstimulation of Steve fingers pumping in and out of your pussy like he hadn’t absolutely wrecked it minutes prior, that the word comes out of your mouth before you can stop it.
“Yes,” you exhale in a shaky moan.
The thought alone thrills you. Because the truth is, you’ve been feeling it as much as Steve has. You've been wanting it as much as Steve has.
The forbidden.
Because it is fun to imagine. You guiding Eddie’s hand. Steve watching and telling you what to do. You crying out between the two of them.
God.
“So…Eddie?” You pant, unsure if you’re asking or you're moaning out his name just to try it out on your lips.
Steve just smirks.
“Yeah,” he says, pumping faster. “Eddie.”
The moment that sealed Eddie’s fate was a random Thursday.
He should’ve known better.
The second you said movie night was at your place, he should’ve backed out. Should’ve faked a headache or a gig or even a freak accident involving his uncle.
Anything.
But–like the fucking idiot he was–he’d walked right through your front door that night.
You’d picked a shitty movie on purpose. Something slow without any action scenes, full of long silences and artistic shots that made Robin snore into the couch cushion, with Nancy and Jonathan falling right behind.
Steve sat beside you the whole time, like always, hand on your thigh, like always. Looking casual, almost innocent.
Eddie was on the floor, sitting too close to the TV just so he wouldn’t look at you.
He’d been too busy picking at the skin of his thumb and lost into the mazes of his head, that he didn’t notice you’d disappeared with Steve until he glanced over to the couches and only found the girls and Jonathan dead to the world.
He sat there for a few more minutes pretending to care about the stupid movie, but then–like a fucking idiot, again–he decided to get up, quietly leaving the room like he was going to the kitchen.
He took a hard left to the stairs instead.
Eddie knew where your bedroom was. He’d been there before when you’d asked him to bring more blankets on movie night a few months ago. He still remembers the cute little nightlight plugged into the wall.
As he tiptoed to the top of the stairs like a freak, the hall was dark, but a sliver of light came out of your room through the slightly open door.
Eddie dragged his feet on the carpet, guided by shushing voices and a noise of what he was sure was the creak of a bed. Once he reached, he braced himself for the scene he was about to encounter as he peeked through the door, but no amount of breathing techniques could have ever prepared him for the image before his eyes.
Oh, fuck.
You were on your stomach, face pressed into the mattress, Steve standing behind you with both hands gripping your hips. Your ass–god, your ass–lifted high to meet every thrust.
Your skirt was bunched around your waist, panties pushed to the side, but nothing really hid you from the pervert on the door. Not even Steve’s body blocked the view of him disappearing into your dripping pussy, filling you so deep Eddie could see it, see the way your walls opened for him.
The nightlight glowed behind you, casting just enough light to make it worse.
Pink and soft and obscene.
Eddie’s eyes went over the curve of your spine. The shake of your thighs. Your fingers twisting in the floral sheets, holding on for dear life as your body kept being pushed forward.
And the sounds. Jesus Christ, the sounds.
“Steve,” you gasped, “please–more–don’t stop.”
“Shhh baby, I know,” Steve cooed behind you, doing the exact opposite of what you asked and stopped. “But you gotta keep it down, don’t want to wake up your guests do you?”
The fucking hypocrite then slammed back into you so hard the headboard bumped the wall. You moaned–no, cried out, trying to muffle it against the sheets as Eddie bit down his fist just to keep himself from making a sound.
“Oh baby, you wanna be loud?” Steve chuckled, as he kept thrusting hard. “Go on then, I want to hear you.”
“I–fuck–I love your cock, Steve” you choked the words out. “‘S–s’ so deep.”
Eddie froze at the crack of the door, heart pounding out of his chest as he watched you getting fucked within an inch of your life.
The sweet girl. The sun. The angel he thought he knew. Gripping her sheets like a sinner. Moaning filth like she wanted the guests to hear.
Maybe you wanted him to hear.
Eddie’s hand slipped inside his jeans, he couldn't stop himself. Not after that. He stroked himself fast and hard and desperate, watching your body take it, and your mouth beg for it.
It didn’t take long for Eddie to come harder than he’d ever had in his life. He made a mess in his hand, his pants, and he was sure some of his cum dripped onto the carpet below, but he was too high and too far gone to care.
He nearly collapsed against the stairs wall as he rushed back down, panting, already half hard again within seconds.
The movie was still rolling, the guys were still fast asleep, but he had been changed forever–once again.
Seriously, who the hell leaves the door open? Or unlocked? For two people who seemed to fuck like bunnies none of it made sense.
Unless…you’d wanted him to watch.
Eddie was in the middle of jerking off when someone started pounding on his front door.
Of course.
He’d found his rhythm, music blasting, hips grinding into his palm, eyes squeezed shut and in his head, his filthy, freaky little head, you kept running your dirty mouth over and over.
He’d been at it for twenty minutes. Maybe more. His dick was red and raw but he didn’t care because the only thing worse than jerking off to the memory of you was not jerking off to it.
Bang, bang, bang.
“Jesus–fuck,” he curses, pulling up his briefs with a groan, finding a pair of jeans from the floor as the knocking continues.
“EDDIE!!” A familiar voice calls over the music.
Oh no.
Eddie walks out of his room shirtless, crosses the hall in dragged strides, and opens the door wide enough to peek out, and yeah, there he is.
Steve fucking Harrington.
The absolute last person on earth he wanted to catch him red handed with his dick in his hand fantasizing about his girlfriend.
“Hey, man,” Eddie manages, clearing his throat when his voice cracks a little. “Uh…what’s up?”
“Hey!” Steve beams, that preppy boy smile spreading wide on his face. “Mind if I come in?”
Eddie hesitates only for a second, then opens the door wider and steps back. Steve walks in, glances around, his gaze landing on Eddie’s bedroom. More specifically, on the bottle of lotion on his nightstand and the constellation of crumpled paper tissues on the floor next to his bed.
Steve chuckles. “Sorry man, didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Wh–what?”
“You know. That thing you were doing.” Steve smirks, nodding his head toward the room. “Thinking about my girl?”
Eddie’s whole face goes red. “Dude, what the fuck–”
“You like her,” Steve says plainly, not as a question, not mad, not teasing. Just a matter of fact. “I know you’ve always liked her. But now you’ve seen her like I have. And now you can’t stop thinking about her.”
Eddie stands frozen in the middle of the living room, unsure of what he’s supposed to say to save his case. Although, given the evidence, there isn’t much to hope for.
“Is this the part where you punch me?” Eddie asks, almost bracing for the impact.
But Steve just laughs in his face.
“No, man. No punches.” He shakes his head, amused. “You know…she likes it when you stare.”
You like it when he stares? You know he stares?
“Alright Harrington, if you wanna hit me, just do it. Don’t fuck with me.” Eddie chuckles bitterly, already wishing he could just go back to his little twisted fantasies instead of hearing this bullshit.
“Don’t you get what I’m saying Eddie?”
Eddie narrows his eyes. “No…?”
Steve sighs, then steps closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m saying…she wants you to fuck her.”
There’s a moment of deafening silence where Eddie questions if he actually speaks the English language, because there’s no fucking way in the world he heard that right.
“...What??”
“She does,” Steve repeats, then chuckles again, “Hell, even I want you to fuck her.”
“You’re not being serious,” Eddie accuses, backing off from Steve’s grasp to pace in circles with his hands on his hips.
“Fucking hell man,” Steve groans. “Look–I’ve seen the way you look at her. And I get it, okay? She’s a dream, I know.” He laughs, but Eddie keeps pacing like a madman, shaking his head. “Dude–you ever wonder what she tastes like when she’s already come twice?”
That makes him stop right in his tracks. He turns to Steve in disbelief, but once again he doesn’t see anger, or teasing. He’s genuinely asking him if he fantasizes about his girlfriend.
“Man, I wonder about everything,” Eddie finally blurts out, exhaling like he just lifted a weight off his chest that’s been dragging him down for weeks.
Steve grins.
“I wouldn’t offer you this if I didn’t trust you with her.”
He walks closer to Eddie–again–but this time he doesn’t place his hand on his shoulder, just looks at him dead in the eye as his grin turns darker.
“You’d be gentle with her, wouldn’t you, Eddie?” He asks, pupils taking over the hazel of his eyes. “You wouldn’t fuck her too hard the first time, right? She’s too sensitive after–and trust me, you’re gonna want her to keep going.”
Eddie is speechless for the 124378th time in that month. Which should be an achievement, considering he likes to talk as much as Robin does.
“I’m not gonna say it twice, Munson.” Steve lifts a hand to clap him on the shoulder. “But she really wants it. So are you in?”
Eddie doesn’t even think anymore. He just nods frantically.
Oh, he’s so in.
Oh, he’s so having a full blown existential crisis.
He hadn’t slept the night before. Who could sleep after that conversation? Steve, poster boy for everything Eddie is not, just casually walked into his place, dropping that line like it was no big deal:
She wants you to fuck her.
Which is how he ended up now, standing outside your goddamn house, sweating through his jacket and wondering if he’d actually never woken up from the demobats attack and this was all a coma dream.
Because now you apparently wanted him.
In your house. In your bed.
On those stupidly adorable floral sheets he couldn’t stop thinking about. That’s what he came thinking about. That’s what he dreamed about every night.
Steve’d said to just “roll by tonight.” Well, tonight is here, and Eddie stands outside the door contemplating his options.
Does he knock? Does he just open it and walk into a fucking orgy?
Jesus.
He adjusts his jacket, runs a hand through his curly hair, and tells himself it’s going to be fine. He’s already been through things someone his age should never have to in their entire lifetime. Strange things. He can handle a little threesome.
Right?
He rings the doorbell before he chickens out like he’s done his whole life.
Eddie hears footsteps approaching the front door. He expects you, for some reason, but instead it’s Steve who opens it, shirtless, barefoot, only wearing some sweatpants, and smiling bright as if he’d just invited Eddie over to watch some sports game.
“Hey, dude! Glad you made it,” he beams, stepping aside.
Eddie walks through the threshold, and stops in the middle of the entrance hall pressing his lips tight.
“You want water or something?” Steve offers casually, noticing Eddie’s looking around nervously. “She’s upstairs. All ready.”
“She’s what?”
“All ready,” Steve repeats with a grin. “You know, for you.”
Steve laughs at Eddie’s loss for words, claps him reassuringly on the back, and gestures toward the stairs.
“Come on, man. Don’t leave her waiting.”
He walks up the stairs with Steve trailing behind. Eddie’s already hard under his ripped jeans, stopping right outside your door thinking what on earth does ready for me mean?
Are you naked? Are you touching yourself? Do you know how hard he is? Can you feel him on the other side of the door?
He can even see the damn nightlight is on behind it. His hand hovers over the doorknob, but for one second, the doubt comes crawling back in.
What if this is a joke? What if he opens the door and all your friends are inside pointing at him and laughing like “Look who actually believed it! You’re a pervert, Eddie!”
Wouldn’t be the first time someone pulls a cruel prank on him–or calls him that. Wouldn’t even be the worst. But–
“You gonna open it, Eddie? Or are you too scared of my girl?” Steve’s teasing voice cuts off his spiraling thoughts.
Eddie takes a deep breath, finally twists the knob, and he swears time slows down when he sees you there.
You’re sitting–no, half kneeling on the bed in the center of the room. Those floral sheets are bunched under your knees. And you’re wearing a little dainty lace set. The fabric is barely there, but the little bows on the straps make it sweet enough for Eddie’s mouth to go dry. Your exposed skin looks soft under the warm pink glow the nightlight casts against the walls.
You’re all ready for him.
Eddie nearly fucking dies. Again.
You smile when you see him. It’s soft and warm and welcoming, like always. Except–nearly naked. Not like he hadn’t seen your guts getting rearranged about two times too much these past weeks anyways.
“Hi, Eds,” you say, waving your hand as if you aren’t currently rewiring his entire nervous system.
He stands frozen in the doorway as Steve brushes past him, casual as hell. He walks straight up to you, bends down just enough to pet your chin with two fingers, making you laugh softly.
“Hi again, baby,” Steve whispers sweetly. “Let’s give him a warm welcome, hm?”
You hum in agreement, watching Steve walk away and drop onto the puff in the corner of the room, manspreading like a king waiting for his entertainment to start.
But Eddie…Eddie’s still standing by the door like 🧍🏻
“So uh…what–what are the rules?” He stammers. “Or, like boundaries? Or–fuck, I don’t know, a safe word?”
He means it for him, of course.
You cover your mouth to stifle a laugh. “Oh my god. Eddie, you're adorable.”
Steve is not as delicate as you, “Dude,” he snorts. “You can’t be serious. Relax. No one's handing out instructions.”
Eddie shifts anxiously on his feet. “I–there should be instructions.”
When the hell has ever cared about those?
“You’re here to make her feel good, that’s it.” Steve says quite harshly, crossing his arms over his chest, then looks at you and everything in him softens. “You decide how far he goes, baby.”
You melt. Right there on the bed. Blow him a kiss and then turn your full attention to the very shy boy at your doorstep.
“It’s okay, Eddie. Can you come closer?” You ask, extending your arm and gesturing toward the bed.
Eddie gives one step, that’s all he manages.
You smile wider, just enough to coax him. “Closer, Eddie. Please.”
Fuck.
He takes another step, then another, until he’s right by the edge of the bed, so close he can see the pattern of the fine lace of your lingerie, the way your chest rises when you breathe, the way you’re giving him the most deadly case of bedroom eyes he’s ever seen in his entire life.
You don’t look shy, or unsure, you look…eager.
Before he can overthink it, you slide off the bed to round him, and gently push his chest to sit down. Eddie falls easily, his body already knowing it’s not in charge anymore. The mattress dips under his weight, bouncing softly along with the curls in his head.
“Kick those shoes off,” you say.
He obeys. Oh–he obeys. A little clumsily, but they’re off in less than three seconds.
Only then you climb onto his lap. Eddie’s breath comes out in a shaky exhale when your ass lands on his thighs. His hands hover uselessly at his sides. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t really dare yet. He doesn’t even know where to look. His eyes dart from your shoulder to the wall to Steve, who has now thrown his arms behind his head like he’s watching his favorite movie.
“Well, don’t mind me,” he says. “Just enjoying the show.”
You cradle Eddie’s face to get his attention back to you. All he can think is your hands are warm, and too soft for his own good. Your thumbs brush his cheeks in such a normal, easy way, that still feels deeply intimate.
“Pretty boy,” you whisper, smiling at him. “Such pretty eyes.”
Eddie’s heart does an entire somersault routine. He can feel the little feet of the people inside his head running around to process the compliment.
We’re starting already???
He doesn’t even finish that line of thought when you lean in and kiss him. The kiss is slow and unrushed, but so so passionate. Your soft lips move against his, showing him you know exactly what you’re doing. Eddie melts into it instantly. He kisses you back desperately, starving, because he’d been feeling withdrawal for something he never had, and now–holy shit now he’s finally getting his fix.
Still, he doesn’t touch. Not until you take his wrists and guide them yourself, first on your waist, but then trailing down, lower, to where the lace sits and barely covers anything. His hands pinch your skin when he realizes what he’s touching.
You.
“Oh,” he breathes in to the kiss, and had you known Eddie let out those pretty little sounds, you'd have brought him in sooner.
You smile against his mouth and roll your hips, just a little, just to get more out. Grabbing him by the collar of his jacket, you grind down on him. Slow at first, just gentle little moves that made Eddie’s head tip back, and a symphony of broken sounds left his throat. Every grind of your body made his cock throb harder against his jeans. His eyes went between your chest, your mouth and the way your lashes fluttered when you finally found the spot.
“Jesus–fuck yes, use me angel.”
He didn’t even realize he’d said it out loud until you let out a little whimper at the pet name, and picked up the pace.
You are used to terms of endearment from Steve, he’s the sweetest with you, but never in the years of your relationship has he ever called you something so divine as angel.
Alas, your boyfriend still knows you better than anyone. You keep moving on top of Eddie, and even though his hard cock under the jeans is already making you see stars, there’s something…missing. By this point Steve’s fingers would already be deep inside you without even having to ask.
Across the room, he watches your frantic moves and hears your moans getting needier. Eddie doesn't notice at first, but he does.
“Hey man,” he calls casually. “Play with her.”
Eddie, too lost in the way you keep rolling your hips, blinks like he misheard. “–What?”
Steve chuckles, “She’s used to it. Go on, don’t make her wait.”
Eddie turns back to you, but you don’t say anything, just look at him, chest rising faster, lips parted, a thin sheen of sweat starting to gather at your temples. And when his eyes search yours for permission, you nod.
That’s all it takes. Eddie’s hand slides down your stomach, dipping lower and lower, until he finds the paradise between your legs.
Oh fuck.
“Baby–you’re soaking through my jeans,” he groans, trailing the wet patch seeping through your panties.
You giggle, but the second his fingers go past the lace and brush over your clit, you let out the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. A little gasp of surprise, hips bucking slightly since you've been waiting for him to touch you right there all night.
Eddie almost comes in his pants. “Jesus–you’re perfect.”
He doesn't slide his fingers in yet, he doesn't need to, your slick is already dripping onto his jeans, smearing over his rings. You just grind into his hand, chasing your high. Every sound you make goes straight to his dick, every breath, every flutter of your lashes, every soft whimper of his name. He’s about to put a finger in when–
“Stop.”
Eddie freezes at your firm voice, his hand stills as panic takes over his chest. “Did I–did I do something wrong?”
Steve’s already standing from the couch, ready to lift you off Eddie’s lap if you need him to. But you just let out a sweet little laugh and shake your head.
“No, you’re perfect. I want you to take your shirt off first,” you shrug, as if you hadn't caused both men a near heart attack.
Steve exhales, muttering something about “always testing him” as he plops back onto the puff. You smile at him apologetically, he just shakes his head pretending to be annoyed but you see the smile tugging at his lips.
“Oh,” Eddie says, blinking a few times before actually breathing again. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that, sweetheart.”
He fumbles a little, taking off his vest first, then his jacket, then–he hesitates for a second. It’s not that he’s insecure about his chest, but his tattoos now have fresh new roommates in the shape of multiple scars scattered across his skin from where he’d been attacked. And he doesn’t know how you’ll react to them.
You notice the doubt flashing across his eyes as his hands stop reaching for the shirt. “Are you okay, Eddie?” You ask, and now you’re the one wondering if you did something wrong.
“Yeah,” he chuckles, trying to not sound too pathetic. “It’s just–my…my scars,” he says, avoiding your gaze.
You hum softly, “Steve has them too.”
Eddie’s head perks up at that, and his eyes go to the shirtless man on the couch.
“Yeah man,” Steve breathes, straightening up, pointing at the lovely little bite marks the bats had left on his skin.
Eddie squints and sees them washed in the glow of the nightlamp. He’d been so busy freaking the hell out when he arrived that he hadn’t even noticed that Steve’s chest indeed had marks. But not as many as him, and at least the hair around it makes up for it, he’s not sure his pale chest–
“Eddie…” You cup his face to gently guide it towards you. “You can keep your shirt on if you feel more comfortable that way, but know that I don’t care about what’s under there. I just want to feel your skin closer,” you reassure.
Eddie almost proposes right there and then.
Okay–maybe he’s getting ahead of himself. But shit. He decides it’s wiser to just nod, and peels off his shirt in one rough pull. You look him in the eyes before looking down, and he nods again. Your eyes go down his bare chest, pale as you expected, not as filled out as Steve’s, and not nearly as hairy–but the tattoos and the scars make him the most badass rockstar you’d ever seen.
Eddie’s breath stills as you look at him like you like what you see. Like he’s the prettiest thing in the room. And then you make sure he hears it.
“You’re so pretty, Eddie,” you smile, pulling him in for another kiss. Your hands smooth over his skin, fingers tracing the tattoos on his chest, the scars down his sides, the happy trail leading to a happier place. “So hot.”
You whine into the kiss, hips rolling again making him forget about the fact that he’s shirtless in front of you and instead he remembers–right. His fingers.
Eddie reaches for you, pulling your panties to the side again. He slides two fingers between your folds, slow enough to drink every second of the way your jaw drops when you feel his rings deep inside you, the way your eyes flutter shut, how you let out a desperate little sound that goes straight to his cock.
“Eds…” you moan, walls clenching around fingers and metal.
“You feel–fuck, baby, you feel so good…so tight…”
He finds his rhythm easily, all insecurities set aside by how fast you’re falling apart on his fingers.
Eddie knows what he’s doing. Those hands–those guitarist fingers don’t play. They move with instinct, with intention. His fingers curl, dragging quickly through your walls before pressing back in. The rings are a plus, cold metal against heat, and you gasp when one of them hits the spot.
“Oh–Eddie–”
“That’s it angel, keep dripping all over me,” he coos, pumping harder. “Can feel you clenching when I talk like this. You like being a good girl for me?”
You nod, it’s all you can do. Steve just watches. Watches the way your body moves. The way your face twists with pleasure. The way your mouth drops open with every stroke.
But he catches something else. He always does.
Your head tips forward, forehead pressing into Eddie’s shoulder, breaths coming out in little broken sounds against Eddie’s skin as he works every inch of you. You keep grinding your hips, chasing more even as it starts to overwhelm you. A sudden wave makes your moan turn into a whimper, and your nails dig on his shoulder instinctively pushing him away.
You cry out, that’s when Steve speaks.
“Hey–easy, Munson,” he calls out, not angry, but still firm enough that it makes Eddie slow down. “Remember what I said about going easy the first time? You go too rough too soon and she’s gonna be shaking for the rest of the night.”
“Sorry–” Eddie says immediately, but you cut him off.
“It’s okay, Eds. We’re still learning each other,” you reassure, still giving him that dazed, happy look. He exhales in relief. “Just…a little slower, that’s all. I’m not really used to the rings.” You say it so sweetly, that he just nods like a little puppy eager to please.
“You’ll get used to them soon, sweetheart. Promise.”
He pulls his fingers back in slower, watching your face the whole time, memorizing every reaction. It doesn't take long before you’re grinding his hand again and letting out soft moans of pleasure as you find a more comfortable rhythm.
“There you go,,” Steve chuckles, approving. “She’s squeezing you, isn’t she?”
Eddie chuckles back, because he can feel how close you are. Your forehead presses into his shoulder again, mouth brushing his skin as you let out a sound that’s half gasp, half moan.
“Hmm, that sound,” Steve hums, leaning further into the puff, stroking over his crotch. “She sounds like that when she’s about to come.”
“Yeah?” Eddie asks, curling his fingers just right. “Are you close, angel?”
You whimper, hiding your face knowing exactly what they are talking about, but it only makes it hotter for both men to see you like that.
“Don’t you wanna tell him, baby?” Steve asks from his spot, but all that comes out of your mouth is another moan against Eddie’s shoulder. “Hey–eyes on me.”
You obey, turning to meet those wide, hazel eyes. You’re barely holding it together, already breathless. A literal mess on Eddie’s fingers.
But Steve just smiles, wide and bright when you look at him. “Now tell him what you need, sweetheart.”
Your eyes keep locked on your boyfriend as you whisper, “I–I wanna come, Eds…please.”
“Then come, baby. Drench my fucking rings,” he groans in your ear. His raw voice and another curl of his fingers is what gets you there.
Your whole body tenses when the orgasm hits. You let out a broken moan that vibrates in Eddie’s chest and your walls clench around his fingers so tight he thinks you might break them. Your wetness coats his rings, soaks into your panties, his jeans, everywhere.
You collapse, arms flailing to hold on to him, but before Eddie can catch you, you’re already falling back.
“Whoa, hey–” Eddie’s arms scramble to hold you, but Steve is faster.
He’s behind you instantly, steadying you with one hand on your back, the other cupping the back of your head easing you back into Eddie’s lap.
“She goes all soft after,” Steve says, with that fondness he always uses when referring to you. “You gotta hold her up for a second.”
Eddie’s arms wrap around you immediately, as you curl into him still trying to catch your breath. Steve leans to see you, brushing your hair back. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead that makes you smile.
“Hey,” he whispers, eyes scanning your flushed face. “You okay?”
You nod against Eddie’s chest.
“You wanna keep going?”
You nod again.
“Words, baby,” Steve coaxes, and you let out a little breathless giggle when he pinches your side.
“I do,” you whisper, loud enough for both to hear. Then you turn to him. “Thank you.”
For catching me. For checking on me. For letting another man fuck me while you watch.
You don’t even have to say it out loud for Steve to know what you’re thinking. He just brushes your cheek, with an amused smile on his face. “Anytime, baby.”
You shift on Eddie’s lap, turning back to him, lips brushing his cheek before placing your hands on his chest to look at those pretty brown eyes. “Thank you too, Eds. You made me feel so good.”
“Y-Yeah?”
You hum, patting the spider tattoo on his left peck. Once you feel like you regained your strength back again, you slide off his lap and drop to your knees in front of him.
“That’s my girl.” Steve praises. So pretty on her knees.”
He rounds the bed to grab a small pillow, then drops it to the floor next to your knees, nudging it with his foot until you shift just enough to be on top of it. You lean to kiss the back of his hand as a silent thank you.
Eddie is too busy remembering how to breathe for the 100th time to say anything.
You settle between Eddie’s legs, hands resting on his thighs, your lashes fluttering as you look up with all your attention back on him. “I wanna thank you properly.”
Eddie laughs nervously, then whistles low. “Shit–then go ahead, sweetheart.”
Your fingers go to his belt–because of course he wore a fucking belt–and Steve chuckles from your side, one judging eyebrow raised. “Why did you even wear a belt, dude?”
“I thought I was coming over to watch, not to get fucking blessed,” Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, pushing himself up to help you lower his pants.
His ass barely touches the mattress when your hands are already tugging his briefs. He laughs, out of sheer nerves and excitement, lifting again to take off the last piece covering him.
He springs out.
And just as you thought. Just as you dreamed, he’s big. Eddie fucking Munson is packing a thick, flushed pink, already leaking cock just inches away from your face.
Pretty boy with pretty eyes and an even prettier dick.
You let out a sweet, pleased little dreamy sigh, when you feel his heaviness in your hand. “So pretty,” you praise, then lean in and press a soft kiss to the tip of his cock.
You reach out, eager, hand wrapping around him to guide him toward your mouth like a lollipop. Eddie makes a noise no one in that room knew he was capable of.
Eddie sees heaven. Sees the clouds, hears all the symphonies and shit.
“Jesus fuck–”
Steve steps behind you again, crouching down. He runs his fingers over your spine, drawing delicate circles that don’t match the words that come out of his mouth.
“You think you can take another, baby?” He asks, kissing the back of your neck. “Getting bored of just watching…”
You glance back at him, hand still wrapped around Eddie’s cock, and look down to see the fabric of his pants barely containing his.
“Let me take care of you too, babe,” you chuckle, lifting your free hand to reach sideways, tugging Steve’s sweats and briefs down in one pull. He steps forward, letting you take him in your hand like you’ve done a hundred times.
Now you have two, very hard, very beautiful, very yours, dicks in your hands.
You give Steve one long, wet stroke with your tongue that makes him drop his head back and groan. Then, with a little giggle, you turn and give Eddie the same treatment.
“Fucking hell, Harrington,” he gasps.
Steve smiles, watching you go from one the other, teasing both. “Oh, I know.” He cups the back of your head, stroking your hair. “Show him, baby. Show him how good you are.”
You hum with Eddie in your mouth, the sound vibrating just enough to make him curse under his breath.
You begin taking turns. Your lips are glossy and warm and full, as you switch between them.
Steve. Then back to Eddie. Then back to Steve again.
Your hand stroking one while your lips wrap around the other. Back and forth. Eddie’s thighs start shaking with the effort of not coming in the first thirty seconds of this glorious torture.
He’d never seen anything like it.
He has both hands fisted in the floral sheets, barely keeping himself together as you take him halfway down and then pull away with a soft, wet pop that makes his vision go white, only to switch to the one who’s supposed to be your man.
And if it wasn’t enough, Steve hands reach behind your back when you put him in your mouth, bending over you with his cock so going deep it makes you gag, to unclasp your bra, freeing your titties for both of them.
He’s fighting for his soul at this point.
You split apart from Steve, taking a deep breath to recover from his dick touching the back of your throat, and wipe your mouth before looking up at Eddie with a smile.
“Hey Steve?” You call, eyes fixed on Eddie’s to catch his reaction. “Why don’t you get the camera?”
The…camera???
“Wait–what?”
“Don’t you want a little souvenir?” You tease, titling your head.
“What the fuck–what–do I want a–?”
“Steve likes it,” you shrug.
“Oh yeah,” Steve chuckles, already crossing to the bookshelf in the corner of your room. “I like it–but she loves it, man,” he adds smugly,
“You have photos…doing it?”
“Whooole collection.” Steve drawls, finding what he was looking for. “You’d go crazy.”
He is going crazy.
Steve walks back over holding a black Polaroid camera, and hands it directly to Eddie, who’s still gripping onto the sheets for dear life.
“I–” He stammers, looking at you.
You shrug. “My hands are busy,” you smile apologetically, too damn sweet for the situation.
Eddie finally takes the camera after a deep exhale, and leans back to lift it. He frames your pretty face between his thighs, lips parted open, spit shining on his cock. Then your mouth wraps around his tip again, and Eddie moans, loud and shaky, nearly dropping the camera.
He captures the grip of your lips, the way your tongue flicks over his slit, the stretch of your mouth when you sink deeper. Then you pull away and take Steve into your mouth instead, and Eddie moves the camera closer, watching your throat move, your hand still stroking him at the base.
It’s a miracle you are alternating, because if it had been just him, he would’ve busted in your mouth in under a minute.
You feel flash after flash after flash. Picture falling one after another, scattering on Eddie’s thighs.
“Holy shit,” Eddie chuckles. “This is filthy. God, you look so fucking good like that.”
Another flash. Another picture falling next to his balls.
You pop off of him with a messy sound and a smile at the compliment, licking your lips as you turn to Steve.
“Your turn, baby,” you whisper.
Steve steps closer, and you feel the way he starts twitching in your mouth. It doesn’t take long before he grabs your hair, and starts thrusting to get himself off.
Eddie’s eyes widen, pulling the camera aside to enjoy the view. The way Steve holds you there. The way he fucks into your mouth, chasing his release, his fist tangled in your hair, his chest rising hard and fast as you take all of him.
Steve finally comes in a few strangled moans, making sure he stays inside until you swallow every drop of his cum. He strokes your cheek with one hand, pulling out, reaching down to wipe the corner of your mouth. “There you go, baby,” he praises, still breathless. “So good for us.”
You don’t take more than a few seconds when you turn to Eddie, chest heaving, but before you can lean down again his hand comes up, stopping you.
“Wait!” He says, coming off a little louder than he means to.
Your brows furrow. “Are you–are you not enjoying it?”
“No no, Jesus–no,” he rushes, “You’re–you’re perfect. You’re actually heaven. I swear. It’s just…if you keep going like that…I won’t last.”
Steve huffs out a laugh, immediately understanding where he’s coming from.
Eddie wants to save his cum for when he gets lucky to actually fuck you.
Steve steps forward, helping you get to your feet. “Well,” he says, amused, “you’re a lucky bastard, Munson. I’m a man of my word, so I’m gonna let you fuck her properly now.”
Eddie gulps. Your eyes light up.
“That’ll get you going just fine.” Steve adds.
He takes the camera from Eddie’s side, then walks back to settle onto the puff in the corner again, naked, angling the Polaroid camera like a professional.
You take a moment to get rid of your panties, before pushing Eddie back onto the bed, making him crawl back until he’s in the center on the mattress, his curly hair draping over your multiple pillows. You climb over the pictures and his body until you’re hovering over him.
Eddie doesn’t expect you to turn around, but there you are, moving away to straddle him in reverse, giving him a perfect view of your ass. His heart is racing so hard he can hear it in his ears, yet a devilish chuckle still comes out before he can stop it.
“You want Steve to see your face while you bounce on my cock, sweetheart?”
You nod, biting your lip even if he can’t see you–because Steve sure can–lifting yourself up with your hands on his thighs. “God, yes.”
You reach to line him up beneath you, teasing the tip only for a second because you can’t wait any longer than that to feel him inside.
You sink down without giving him any warning.
“Holy–fuck,” Eddie groans, throwing his head back onto the pillows. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so tight–”
He only shuts up when he hears the moans you let out as he stretches your walls so painfully good. He feels as huge as he looks, he fills you as well as you thought he would. He’s balls deep inside you. Your knees are on either side of his hips, ass to his stomach, fingers digging into his thighs as you begin to fuck yourself on him.
From the corner, Steve lets out a low hum of approval as you bounce harder on Eddie’s cock, chasing your second orgasm. He strokes himself with one hand, the other snapping shots of the way your tits bounce, the way your face twists every time you sink down, the way you never stop looking at him.
Flash. Flash. Flash. Tug. Tug. Tug.
“Fuck yes, baby–look at you. You look like a fucking porn star.”
You smile at him, then turn over your shoulder, just a little to see how your other boy is doing.
Eddie’s falling apart.
His eyes are glued to where your bodies meet. To his cock disappearing inside your folds. And if the sounds were obscene before–they’re so much worse now. Between Eddie’s grunts, your moans as you ride him, and the clicking sound of Steve’s camera, this was a full blown production.
A priceless one.
And then you make that sound again.
The same sound you made the second time Eddie saw you fall apart on Steve’s cock. The sound you made with his fingers deep inside you. The sound that haunted his fucking dreams.
“You’re getting her there, man,” Steve says, stroking himself faster to the next series of whimpers you let out. “Make her feel good, then cum inside her. She loves that shit.”
Eddie nods. “That okay, angel? Want me to fill you up?”
You can't even speak. You just nod frantically, gasping as your rhythm begins to falter, and your thighs start shaking.
“You gotta come again first, sweetheart,” Eddie says through gritted teeth, grabbing your hips to push himself up into you. He can feel you pulsing around him.
“Steve–fuck–I’m gonna–”
“Then do it, baby,” he growls. “Come on his cock.”
You come harder than the first time. Your mouth drops open in a choked moan as your orgasm tears through you. Eddie nearly comes from how tight you clench around him.
But no. He still wants more from you. Needs it like he needs oxygen.
This time he does catch you when you slump forward, sitting up still buried inside you, placing a kiss on your shoulder as you both catch your breath. But the quiet doesn’t last long. He’s still hard inside you, and the devil on his shoulder tells him to finish what he started.
He earns a sudden yelp from you when he flips you, pushing you onto your stomach, pulling your hips back, and lining himself up again from behind…just like he’d seen you that day. Face in the sheets. Ass up. Wet pussy glowing under the nightlight. Floral sheets wrinkled under your body.
Deja vu.
But this time, it’s not Steve–no, he’s just watching. Eddie is the one pushing his cock deep inside you with a harsh thrust that makes your whole body rock forward.
He’s not that gentle anymore. Not in a mean way. Never in a mean way, but in a I-need-to-come-inside-you-now way. His hands are gripping your skin, knuckles going pale, holding you down as you become a mess under him.
He looks up to the couch, and he expects to see at least an ounce of the jealousy he’d felt the day he saw you with him, but all he sees is Steve’s fist going up and down furiously on his cock. The camera had been dropped as soon as your cheek had hit the mattress.
He wanted to see it. See you fall apart.
“…Holy shit, dude, go for it,” Steve whistles low in approval, chuckling when he hears your strangled gasps every time Eddie slammed into you. “Let him, baby,” he coos. “Be a good girl and take all of it.”
He really gives you all of it.
Eddie’s sure he only survived ‘86 just to see the way your tight little asshole contracts with every thrust he drills into your swollen pussy.
“Eds–Eddie–”
“I know I know. Almost there, angel. Gonna fill you up real good,” he coaxes over your small whines, “wanna see you dripping with my cum.”
Eddie slams into you once more, then groans so loud it echoes across the wallpaper walls, and finally spills inside you with a cry.
Steve comes in his own hand as Eddie pulls out of you, slapping your ass a few times with his cock before you collapse onto the bedsheets. Eddie falls right behind you, blinking up at the ceiling, coming down from his high.
In the middle of all the panting, your chests rising up and down, he doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do next. Part of him expects to be handed his clothes and a polite “thanks for coming.” But instead, you instinctively roll over to him, wrapping your arms around his body and burying your face against his chest.
Steve just chuckles, finding his briefs on the floor and throwing them on, then finally walking over to where you’re cuddling Eddie, running his hand through your hair with a little smile.
“She gets kinda clingy after.”
You don’t even lift your head. “Don’t be rude.”
Steve grins wider. “Sorry, baby. Cute is the word. She gets cute after.”
You hum again, approving this time. Then, you let out a sigh of exhaustion, voice muffled in Eddie’s chest, “you guys are fucking crazy.”
Steve snorts. “We are crazy?”
“I didn’t exactly suggest a threesome, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles, hugging you tighter.
“Whatever,” you giggle. “Just…don’t let me fall asleep like this.”
Steve kneels beside the bed and rubs your back gently. “Want a shower, baby?”
You shake your head. “Bath.”
“Bath it is.”
He places a kiss on your shoulder, then stands and walks to your bathroom. A few moments later, Eddie hears the water running.
He could’ve stayed like that forever, really. With you curled into his arms, naked with his seed still inside you, surrounded by the filthy pictures he’d taken of you. His hand comes up hesitantly, brushing your hair back with the same tenderness he always sees Steve do it.
Where does this leave him though? Is this a one time thing? A hit and run? How can he go back to his normal life after this?
He’d already been losing his mind over you for weeks. He’s never getting over this.
“Are you okay?” You ask, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“Me?”
“Yeah, your heart is beating really fast,” you say, hand resting lightly on his chest, right over it.
Eddie laughs under his breath. “Uh. Yeah. I’m just…kinda expecting for someone to tell me to get up and leave?”
You hum softly, nuzzling closer to him. “I don’t want you to leave, Eds…”
He doesn’t get to say anything before Steve returns, a pink towel slung over his bare shoulder as he stands on the bathroom door.
“Well, dude,” he says. “You bringing her or what?”
Eddie looks down at you, all cozied up in his arms. You don’t say anything, but you smile, soft and sweet and welcoming as always.
The sun in his arms.
He's not sure what the hell is next for him now. But at least for tonight, he’s staying.
And I ain't gotta tell him, I think he knows
Thank you so much for reading! hope you enjoyed 👀🤭
Summary: You never wanted a roommate. You want one even less when he snoops in your room and comes across something that he was never supposed to see.
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, vibrator, overstimulation, praise, fingering, ruined orgasm, enemies to lovers, sub!steve, dom/switch!reader, steve whimpers.
W.C: 6k+
a/n: i had a vision in my head about steve whimpering and i just had to run to docs.
୨♡୧
“Fucking asshole,” you grumble, digging through the organized mess on his desk. Face pulled tight with barely concealed anger, you finally find your wired earbuds underneath a pile of papers.
You bunch them up in your hand and shove them into your pocket with a grunt. This is the third time he’s taken something from you without asking, just this week. First, it was your favorite pen. Then it was the new toothpaste you bought. It’s a new habit he’s developed, on top of his already annoying ones. Like not closing cabinets. Like eating all of your snacks and leaving the empty boxes filled with nothing but crumbs.
Really, you never wanted a roommate. When you moved into your apartment, you finally felt free, finally felt like you could feel comfortable in your own space without the nuisance of other people. But your landlord got greedy. Upped the rent without warning.
And of course, he insisted that his nephew would be a good roommate. Would be able to split the cost with you. Sure, you could’ve turned him down. Could’ve begged him to let you handpick your roommate. But he never told you what an annoying fucking prick he is.
Two years living with him has felt like an entire lifetime.
“What are you doing in my room?”
Immediately, you spin around, heart plummeting, banging against your ribs violently. You jolt so hard that your hip slams into the desk painfully. “Jesus!”
“Chill, Princess.”
Steve’s leaning against the doorframe, one shoulder braced on the wood, blocking half of it. The hallway light spills in behind him, casting his body in shadow, outlining the broad slope of his shoulders and the messy curl of his hair.
He’s wearing an old, washed-out tee, the light grey fabric stretching across his torso. His legs are covered in dark denim that hugs the muscles in his thighs in a way you absolutely refuse to acknowledge. You grind your teeth together at the sight, fingernails digging into your palms so hard you’re sure they’re leaving dents.
“Don’t call me that,” you snap, teeth clenching.
Steve holds his hands up in defense and steps further into his room. “Sorry, is your highness better?
“Shut the fuck up,” you grunt, pushing past him, your shoulder checking into his.
At the contact, he stumbles back slightly, a low chuckle rumbling his chest. “What crawled up your ass today?” He asks, following after you like a lost puppy. More like a rodent. “Seriously.”
“You did!” You yell over your shoulder, plopping down on the couch. As you sink into the cushions, you hope the tension will bleed from your body. All you want is to relax, to enjoy the rest of your weekend in peace. Leaning forward, you pick up the remote and flick on the TV, some old romcom playing. Like the world is openly mocking you.
To your dismay, Steve slides in front of your view, his hands on his hips. “What did I do now?”
It takes everything in your body not to lunge up and yell in his face, to list off every single thing he does that drives you up a wall. But you don’t. Instead, you lean to the side, looking past his hip to glare at the TV screen. Noticing your shift, Steve steps to the side.
Anger tears through your veins, your teeth sinking down on the inside of your cheek. Your eyes snap up to his, chest heaving with barely concealed rage. “What do you think?” You breathe out, digging into your pocket and holding up your headphones.
Steve raises an eyebrow, tilting his head like he has no clue. “What? I made sure they didn’t get tangled this time.”
A soft puff of air comes out of your nostrils like a bull. “You took them.”
“Uh-huh?”
“Without asking, asshole!”
He just rolls his eyes, his hands dropping to his sides. “Okay? You take my sweatshirts all the time.”
An embarrassing heat creeps up your neck at the memory. You shake your head, as if you can shake the redness from your face. “That was once, and it was an accident! I thought it was mine!”
“My clothes are like, three sizes bigger than yours!” Steve crosses his arms across his chest, biceps bulging with the motion.
Slowly, you cross your arms too, mirroring his body language. “Leave me alone, Harrington. I’m seriously not in the fucking mood.”
“Yeah, I can tell. God, you’re so uptight all the time,” he says, flopping down on the couch next to you, taking out his phone. “You need to get laid.”
What?
Your head snaps over to him, your face heating up. You tell yourself it’s only from the pure anger coursing through your entire body. “Excuse me?”
“What? I’m serious. Maybe it’ll help you relax.”
At the sheer amount of audacity he’s throwing your way, you scoff. “What will help me relax is you leaving me alone and not stealing my fucking shit!”
“Mm. How long has it been?” He asks, not even looking up from his phone. The blank expression on his tilted-down face makes you want to send your knuckles into his jaw.
“That is absolutely none of your business!”
“A month? A year? What’s the deal, Princess?” He asks, a video playing low on his phone, as if this is such an everyday conversation. It just pisses you off even more.
“Fuck you,” you growl.
“Sorry, I’m not offering. You’re not my type,” he mumbles, smirking lazily up at you, his eyes finally flicking up.
God, if only you could strangle him.
Your teeth grind together, your nails digging into the meat of your bicep. The sharp sting is the only thing grounding you enough not to lunge across the couch and do just that. “Leave me alone.”
Steve just lounges back, his legs spreading, taking up even more unnecessary space. You jolt your leg back like his skin is acid when his thigh brushes yours. A low beep sounds from the device in his hands, a low vibrating following. “Ah, shit,” he mumbles. “Could I borrow a charger?”
Your jaw almost drops at his audacity. Instead, you keep your face pulled tight, trying not to let him burrow into your skin even more than he already has. “Absolutely not.”
“Please? I asked this time,” he offers, smiling like a proud kindergartener. He knows how much it pisses you off, knows exactly how to get under your skin. “Please?”
“If I say yes, will you go into your room and leave me the fuck alone?”
Seemingly considering it for a second, Steve just shrugs. “Fine. Where is it?” He asks, already rising off the couch. As soon as he stands up, the tension already melts from you. The further he is, the happier you know you’ll be.
If you have to sacrifice an extra charger, so be it.
“Top drawer, next to my bed,” you wave him off, focusing back on the TV. You grunt, realizing you’ve missed three entire scenes. As you pick up the remote to rewind the movie, Steve shuffles away, lowly whistling some tune you don’t recognize.
After a few moments, you hear the familiar screeching of your old drawer. The same one you have to open slowly at night, careful not to wake him up. All the color drains from your face as you suddenly remember why you only open that drawer at night.
Quickly, you bolt up off the couch, socks sliding on the hardwood floor as you beeline toward your room. “Wait! Steve, hold on-” You skid to a stop in front of your door, stumbling slightly as your socks slip from beneath you.
You hold onto the doorframe, chest rising and falling like you just ran a marathon. Your stomach drops to your feet once your eyes settle on him. He’s standing next to your bed, a large grey object in his hand.
Your vibrator.
His face is painted in shock, his lips pulled into a wide smile. “Princess, what is this?” He asks innocently, waving it around tauntingly. Laughter bubbles from his chest, too warm and bright for this situation.
Every part of your body is set on fire, humiliation building so quickly within you it almost makes you dizzy. “Steve, put that down!” You yell.
Steve just laughs even harder, promptly ignoring your demands. “No way. This is too good. Jesus, how many settings does this thing have?” He asks, tilting his head as he runs his thumb down the base of it. Slowly, he pushes one of the buttons, a low buzzing filling the room. “Oh, wow.”
“Stop it!” You stomp into the room, your voice shaking pathetically. It just adds to your embarrassment, to the pure anger ripping through your entire body.
His thumb finds another button, and the speed increases, the sound of the buzzing nearly matching the volume of the blood pumping into your ears. “Do you use it every night? How hard does it make you-” his taunts get cut off when you lunge forward, attempting to tear it from his hands. He just laughs, holding it high above his head, just out of your reach.
You jump up to grab it, growling when he dodges out of the way with another laugh. “I’m serious! Stop being such a dick!” Again, you jump forward, your fingertips just brushing the toy. At the contact, he almost trips over his own feet, stumbling backward.
“I can’t believe you have one of these, princess! Is this why you’re always so-” His words are interrupted again when you jump up and try to climb him to get it back. It almost slips from his hand, and he readjusts his grip. “Whoa!”
His feet slip out from under him when you advance on him again, your body colliding with his as hands shoot out to grab onto you. You both fall backwards, Steve landing with a loud grunt as his back slams on your carpeted floor.
You land on top of him in a heap, both of you a tangle of limbs. The vibrator still buzzes loudly in his hand between you two. Slowly, in a daze, you pull up, your eyes narrowing at him. He meets your eyes, deep honey pools staring up at you. Coffee strands fall over his eyebrows, his pink lips slightly parted.
“Give it back, Harrington.”
“Make me,” he says lowly, thinking you’re too embarrassed to make much of a scene. His thumb presses down on the button again, the speed increasing. He holds it between your chests mockingly, knowing you can feel the buzzing through your shirt.
With a downward twitch of your lips, you tug at the toy, giving him a warning glance. In response, his grip tightens, fingers brushing against yours as you both fight for control. “You know, you could just ask me to help you with this thing,” he says lowly, a wicked grin spreading across his face. Slowly, his eyes flick to your lips.
Although you know he’s just teasing, only trying to get under your skin, your heart thuds harder against your ribcage. Your grip on the toy tightens, and you find the off button. It clicks off, the low buzzing ceasing. The only sound between you is his low breathing and the pounding of your heart in your chest. With a triumphant smile, you tear it from his hand.
Just as you’re about to climb off of him, you feel something shift against your thigh. Hard. Firm. At first, you think it might just be the hard muscle of his thigh. But as you readjust, and you see the tick of his jaw, you realize exactly what it is.
“Are you…”
Steve swallows hard, realizing how easily you can feel his growing erection all the way through his jeans. But, he doesn’t move away. Instead, his hips gently move up into the plush skin of your thigh. “Maybe,” he admits, his voice lowering.
“You’re a pervert,” you mumble, though no venom laces your voice. Just like you wanted, you take back the toy, rolling off of him.
He sits up, watching you with a smirk. “You’re the one who jumped on me,” he says defensively. As you stand up, he adjusts himself discreetly, clearing his throat when you notice. “And for the record…”
“Shut up,” you suddenly snap, swallowing the lump of anger in your throat. Instead, it twists into something darker. Deeper.
It’s like someone has flicked a light switch deep within you, turning two years of pure rage into a storm of emotions in your stomach, twisting deep and ugly. You want to see that smirk wiped off his face, want him to be putty in your hands.
“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” he smirks, watching your expression shift.
With a soft breath out, you grind your teeth together. “Sit down.”
His smile falters slightly at your sudden assertiveness. Steve raises an eyebrow, slightly intrigued. “What?” He crosses his arms, not making any motions toward the bed. “This an invite, princess? Because if so, I’m gonna need a real-”
Quickly, he stops talking when you hold up the vibrator in your hand. You’re eyeing him with a dangerous look he’s never seen in his life. The slow movement of his throat causes the fire within you to blaze even brighter. “On the bed. Now.”
Adams's apple bobbing as he swallows hard, his smirk fades completely. Slowly, he walks to the edge of the mattress, watching you warily. You can just about hear how hard his heart is pounding in his chest. A smile spreads on your face when he spreads his legs slightly without thinking, giving himself room. An action that previously made you want to rip all your hair out. Now, it’s nothing but convenient.
Shuffling over to him, you lean in close, your faces inches apart. Your eyes drag up and down his face, scanning each crease. Up close, you can admit how pretty he is. Freckles and moles dot his face like twinkling stars in the night, soft brown hairs grown above the curve of his top lip. Stubble lines the sharp curve of his jaw, enticing you to drag your lips down it. A light pink is crawling its way onto his cheeks and the tips of his ears. The wide, innocent look in his eyes is nothing but endearing, deep pools of honey staring up at you.
“You know, I think it’s time you got knocked down a peg, Steve,” you purr, your breath hot against his ear.
A shiver goes down his spine as the vibrator hums to life between you two, a low buzzing reverberating through your ribs. Steve looks up at you, conflicted between cocky and nervous. Leaning back slightly, his hands fist your bed sheets. “You wouldn’t-” he starts, but his voice cracks. Softly, he clears his throat, shaking his head as if it’ll stop the tremble of his words. You press the vibrator dangerously close to his crotch, the head just barely teasing the denim. “Princess, come on.”
Against his objections, you lean in closer, pressing the toy against the seam of his jeans. Inhaling sharply, his hands grip the bedspread tighter. “Fuck-” he huffs out, hips jerking involuntarily against the buzzing plastic. The pretty rose on his cheeks darkens, and his lips part. “Stop playing,” he says, but his voice is strained. Despite his words, his legs spread even wider. “You wouldn’t.”
With a smile and an innocent bat of your eyelashes, you turn it up a setting, pressing it even firmer. “Not so cocky now, huh, princess?” You mock.
His mouth falls open in a silent ‘o’ as the vibrator presses firmer against his hard length, his arousal undeniable with the denim stretching tight. Steve squirms slightly, very obviously trying to hold back a groan. “Fuck,” he whispers, biting his lip hard. Looking up at you, his eyes are wide with embarrassment.
“You’ve never used one of these, huh?” You tease, seeing it written all over his face.
“N-no, of course not,” he stammers, hips twitching against the vibration. His hands are fisted into the bedsheets, knuckles turning white. “I don’t- I don’t need one. I’m a guy, we don’t-” He cuts himself off with a choked sound once you adjust the angle, pressing the buzzing directly against the most sensitive part of him. “Oh, my god.”
You laugh mockingly as you watch a small patch of the denim darken with pre-cum. “You like that, don’t you?”
Steve doesn’t respond, his chest heaving. He follows your line of sight, groaning once he notices the dampness that has soaked through his briefs. Slowly, you sink to your knees, taking the toy off for just a moment. He looks down at you with glazed-over eyes once you begin to fiddle with the buttons. Eyebrows raise as you drag his zipper down, the sound echoing off the walls in the silent room.
He says your name, a low pathetic whine, followed by “what the fuck?”
Once you tug at his jeans, he lifts his hips to help you, revealing tight black briefs. The fabric leaves nothing to the imagination, pulled tight against the curve of his erection. Slipping your thumbs into his waistband, you tug them down his thighs. His dick springs free, hitting the soft curve of his tummy through his tee. It twitches in the cool air, the tip flushed a pretty pink.
Although this is meant to put a hit on his ego, you’re only human. So, you can’t blame yourself for taking a moment to rake your eyes down what your roommate is working with. A trimmed patch of dark hair sits at the base of him, stretching up the small strip of skin at his stomach where his shirt has ridden up. A long vein runs along the side of him, a drop of pre-cum trailing down it.
And, unfortunately, he’s big. Certainly more so than any partners you’ve had in the past. Girthy, too, which causes a thought to fly through your head. Quickly, you push it away, taking a deep breath.
“No wonder you’re so cocky,” you whisper, wrapping your fingers around the base of him with one hand, the other wrapping around the toy again. Firmly, you press it against the underside of his shaft, right under the head.
At the contact, he gasps sharply, hips lifting off the mattress. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, hands flying to your hair. He doesn’t push you away, just grips the strands desperately, nails scratching against your scalp softly. “Jesus Christ, your-” His dick twitches against the toy, his whole body already trembling, despite the low setting. His mouth opens in another silent moan.
Eyes flicking up, you press it harder against him. “I’m what? Hm? Keep talking.”
“You’re not- You’re not supposed to-” Steve can’t form words, his hips bucking shallowly into your hand and the vibrator. Eyes roll back slightly, his face flushing a deep red. “This is- I’m supposed to be the one making you, ah-” a choked moan leaves his lips.
With a laugh, you turn it up a setting, smirking in triumph when he whimpers. “You’re supposed to be making me feel good?” You finish his thought. “How long have you wanted to do that? Huh?”
His eyes widen as he realizes what he said, his thighs shaking at the increased stimulation. “I was just…”
“Tell me, Steve,” you urge, eyes flicking up to his. Without warning, you flick it up a setting, the buzzing getting quicker, louder. In response, he whimpers through clenched teeth, eyebrows furrowing.
“A year,” he murmurs, throwing his head back, revealing the expanse of moles to your gaze. You try and fail to keep the emotion on your face at bay, a soft heat crawling up your own face. Never once, in your two years of living with him, had you thought he’d have those sorts of feelings toward you.
Desperate to hide the shift of your face, you rise slightly, dragging your lips across his fluttering pulse. The position is less than comfortable, so you sit down next to him on the mattress, turning your body toward him, attacking his tanned skin again.
“A year, huh?” You repeat softly, watching how purple blooms beneath his skin where your teeth just were.
Once you’re next to him, his hands fall back to the bedspread, fingers tightening around the sheets. You swipe your tongue out, tasting sweat and the remnants of his cologne that you’ll never admit you love so much. His dick jumps against the toy, pulling another whine from his throat.
“Three more,” you whisper against his skin.
“Three… What?” Steve murmurs, his eyes widening. You pull back, dragging the toy in circles, causing his hips to jerk up again.
“Settings,” you whisper, turning it up again.
Breath hitching hard, his knuckles begin to turn white against the bedspread. Steve moans loudly, the noise going straight toward your core. You’ve never heard a man make those kinds of noises before, no matter how good you know he was feeling. You especially never thought Steve Harrington would make those kinds of noises.
“Baby, I can’t, I can’t take more,” he whines out, turning and pressing his forehead against yours. Mint fans across your lips as he pants, his eyes squeezing shut, long eyelashes casting shadows across his cheeks.
The nickname spurs you on even more, and you turn it up even higher, the plastic vibrating harder against your palm. “Shh, yes, you can,” you urge.
Turning his head, he looks down at his lap, jaw hanging open as more pretty moans leave his throat. He looks down in awe, as if he can’t believe this is happening. If you’re honest, neither can you. But you definitely don’t hate that it is.
Pre-cum leaks in a steady stream down his shaft, seemingly never-ending. It drips down your knuckles from where your fingers are wrapped around his base, enticing you to drag your fist up and down slowly. The added stimulation pulls louder whimpers from his lips, loud enough to make you worry about your neighbors.
“Come on, where’s that bold Steve gone?” You tease.
“He’s-” Steve gasps, back arching as the stronger vibrations reverberate through his entire body, the muscles in his thighs tightening. His hips are bucking erratically now, completely losing control. “He’s dying right now, oh god,” he moans pathetically. “Please, please,” he begins to babble incoherently, completely at your mercy.
Your name falls from his lips, repeating over and over like a mantra, a prayer. “Please what, baby? Please turn it up?”
Seemingly too embarrassed to say the words, Steve nods, a few strands of hair plastering to his forehead. With a tut, you shake your head, smoothing back the strands. “Use your words, tell me what you need.”
“Please, turn it up, please,” he begs, honey eyes brimming with tears.
“Good boy,” you praise, the words surprising both of you. He whimpers, hips bucking into both your palm and the toy. At his request, you turn it up two more clicks, the settings maxed. Further than you’ve ever been able to handle.
His whole body goes rigid, a strangled groan escaping his lips as shockwaves of pleasure rip through his body. Eyes rolling back completely, his dick twitches sporadically against the buzzing. “I’m… fuck, I’m gonna-”
“Not yet,” you murmur, kissing his jaw sweetly, contrasting with how rough you’re being with him.
At your words, he whimpers, body trembling so hard you’d almost be concerned. You can tell he’s just teetering on the edge of orgasm, but holding back somehow. Sweat beads on his forehead, trailing down his temple. “Fuck you,” he chokes out, but there’s no heat in it, only desperation.
You laugh in surprise, raising an eyebrow. A soft whine, comparable to a kicked puppy, leaves his lips once you take the toy away. His eyes snap open, lips parting. Surprise flashes across his features, more tears brimming at his waterline. “Don’t talk to me like that, and I might let you cum.”
“I’m sorry,” he spits out immediately, voice breaking. “I’m sorry, please, please, I can’t take it.” His voice is hoarse, whiny.
“Hm,” you hum, tilting your head at him. His lower lip trembles, and you take the hand that’s still wrapped around his shaft away, instead dragging your knuckles against the pink skin. Gently, despite his state, he presses his lips against your skin, eyes pleading.
His hips grind up uselessly against nothing, a hand leaving the bed sheets. He wraps his fingers around your wrist, thumb brushing against your pulse point. “Please, baby, I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise. I won’t steal from you, I’ll close the cabinets, fold the laundry.”
A soft smile twitches at your lips before you can stop it. “Will you stop stealing my snacks, too?”
Nodding quickly, he kisses each knuckle again, his lips searing into your skin. “Never again.”
“Promise?”
“I promise,” he whines again, blinking at you.
“Okay, fine,” you shrug, as if he’s not affecting you at all. In reality, it’s quite the opposite. It took the same effort on your part to take the toy away as it did for him to plead with you, if not more. Slowly, you press the vibrator right against the most sensitive part of him, his hips jolting at the shock.
It only takes a few more moments for him to throw his head back, for more pleas to leave his mouth. Except, this time, he doesn’t wait for you to answer. He cries out, body convulsing as he cums harder than he ever has in his life. White ropes shoot across the revealed skin of his stomach, some landing on his tee.
Before his whines can get even louder, you smash your lips against his, muffling his increasing whimpers. His tongue slides against yours, his fingers tangling into your hair as he presses you firmer against him. Once you’re sure he’s thoroughly wrecked, you flick off the toy, leaning over to place it on your nightstand.
Steve collapses against the mattress, his dick still twitching slightly, oversensitized from the intense orgasm you just gave him. He looks up at you with glazed-over eyes, a drop that could either be sweat or a tear sliding down his temple. Chest still heaving, he attempts to catch his breath. “Fucking hell,” he breathes out.
You go to the bathroom for a moment, bringing back a box of tissues. Gently, you clean up his release from his tummy, bringing even more scarlet to his cheeks. Crumpling up the tissue, you toss it in the trashcan next to your bed. Then, you sit with your legs folded beneath you next to him.
“How are you feeling?” You tease, placing your palm against his chest. Even through his tee, you can feel the rapid beating of his heart. Eyes rake down his torso, and a smile pulls at your lips as you watch the soft pudge of his stomach rise and fall with each deep breath.
“Like… Like you just broke me,” he says, managing a weak, shaky laugh. His larger hand covers yours against his chest, fingers intertwining. “I can’t feel my legs,” he whispers, looking at you with a dazed, adoring expression.
You smile down at him, gently pressing your lips against his. Slowly, you pull back, tilting your head. “You gonna be nice to me from now on?”
Nodding eagerly, he squeezes your hand gently. “I’ll be so fucking nice, princess, you’ll think I’m a different person.” The pad of his thumb traces circles on the back of your hand, the motion melting the ice walls you’ve put up in front of him. “I promise.”
“You know, if you pull the same shit again, I won’t stop next time.”
Steve shudders at your words, his thumb stopping its motions. “You’re a monster,” he breathes out, but there’s really no resistance in his words, just awe. “A beautiful, evil monster.”
Gently, you lower yourself next to him, propping yourself up on an elbow, peering down at him with a soft smile. He rolls onto his side to face you, one arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer weakly. Tired lips press against yours softly, his thumb stroking your jaw.
“How did you turn me into this?” He laughs softly.
“Into what? A pathetic puppy?” You tease, pushing his hair out of his eyes.
“Ha, ha,” Steve rolls his eyes. “You basically just turned me into your little bitch. Didn’t think you had it in you, really.”
Your finger draws a pattern up his pec. “And I didn’t think you could make those noises,” you volley back with a shrug.
Embarrassment prickles at his face, his cheeks turning a bright scarlet. His eyes drop, as if he can’t even look at you.
“Hey, hey, no,” you say quickly, tilting his head back up. “Look at me,” you whisper, smiling once those familiar pools of honey find your gaze. “I liked it. Like, maybe too much. I’m happy I could make you feel that good.”
“Yeah?” He whispers.
“Mhm,” you hum. Slowly, a question comes back to the forefront of your mind. “Hey, did you mean it earlier? When you said you’ve wanted to do something like that for a year?”
Slowly, he nods, and you can tell he wants to look away again. But this time, he doesn’t, his gaze holding yours steady. “Maybe for even longer. And I don’t mean… You doing stuff like that to me. I wanted- I want to make you feel good. Better than any of those shitty exes I always hear you complain about.”
At his words, your lips part, the color in your face definitely matching his. You’ve never had anyone admit something like that to you without any ulterior motives, and the earnest expression on his face tells you that there are none. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he nods, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can I? Is that okay?”
“Please,” you whisper, completely forgetting your original motive behind doing this in the first place.
A smile spreads across his face as he rolls you onto your back, using an elbow to prop himself up next to you. His fingers slowly trail down your body, finding their way to your center quickly. Starting with gentle circles, he presses the pads of two fingers against your clit through your shorts. “Like this?” he asks, although you know he can tell by the hitch of your breath.
Nodding, you close your eyes gently, a soft whimper leaving your lips. “Mhm.”
Fingers work against you slowly, deliberately, taking their time to explore what feels good. He’s in no rush, completely content in allowing you to feel each movement, each shift. “So pretty,” he whispers, learning you, memorizing your body language.
A soft breath leaves your lips as he applies more pressure, your legs spreading open for him. He watches your face carefully, adjusting his pressure and speed based on your reactions. When you bite your lip, he focuses on that spot, knowing it's going to drive you crazy. “Look at you, so cute.”
Slowly, his fingers slip underneath your waistband, sliding under your panties. “This okay?”
You nod enthusiastically, moaning once his fingers brush your clit, this time with no barrier. Steve picks up the pace just slightly, pressing a little harder. Slowly, his fingers dip lower, the middle one teasing your entrance. “God, you’re so wet, all for me?” He whispers, looking down at you in awe. “Makin’ me whine like that turned you on this much?”
All you can manage is a soft nod, followed by a whine once he presses the tip of his finger into you, sliding it against your walls. Working you slowly, he sinks it in even deeper, down to his knuckle. Despite only having one finger curled within you, the thick digit is already stretching you open.
“Gonna put in another one, okay baby?”
At your more than enthusiastic nod, he slides another one in, curling them with each shallow thrust. Burning ever so slightly with each movement. Easily, he finds that spongy part inside of you, the one that causes your back to arch off the mattress and stars to explode behind your eyes. Steve knows he has you right where he wants you when he feels your legs start to tremble against his forearm. “Come on, princess, let me hear you.”
He tears more desperate moans from your throat, which he promptly swallows when he leans over and presses his lips to yours. Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours, breath mingling as you pant. “Feels s’good, Steve,” you whine, eyebrows furrowing.
Your back arches and your toes curl once the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, circling so expertly you can’t help but moan louder. He laughs softly, pressing against that spot within you firmer. Before you can process anything, that familiar feeling builds quickly within you, knocking the breath from your lungs.
Walls clench around his fingers, pulling another chuckle from his lips. “You close?” He asks, although you know he doesn’t need to.
Nodding quickly, you wrap your fingers around his wrist, needing something to ground you. Unlike you, he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even hesitate to pick up the speed, to curl his fingers even deeper with each thrust.
“I won’t torture you, baby, waited too long for this,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against yours again, already addicted to the feeling.
It only takes a few more thrusts of his wrist, a few more circles of his thumb for you to cry out his name, for that tightness in your stomach to release. Shockwaves tear through your veins, every part of your body trembling with pleasure. His name is on your lips, repeating over and over like a broken record.
Steve doesn’t let up, riding you through your orgasm, only slowing down when tears prick your eyes from overstimulation. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out, apologizing gently when you wince at the loss. You watch with wide eyes as he holds up his fingers in front of you both, the skin glistening with your arousal.
Then, he does something that forces another groan from your lips. He wraps his lips around his fingers, cheeks hollowing around them as he tastes you. Eyes rolling back, he moans at the taste of you on his tongue.
“You’re going to kill me,” you whisper, pressing your thighs together once the dull throbbing sharpens.
He smirks around his fingers, taking them out of his mouth slowly, knowing exactly what he’s doing to you. Leaning down, he kisses you softly, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. With a shaking hand, you slide your fingers through his hair, scraping your nails against his scalp gently.
“Steve?” You murmur, pulling back slowly.
“Yeah?” He whispers, thumb stroking your bottom lip.
“Sorry for… also being a bitch to you. I haven’t been the best roommate either.”
Lips twitching into a frown, he shakes his head, a cute pout falling onto his mouth. “I wouldn’t wanna live with me either, baby, you don’t have to apologize.”
“Hey, no,” you whisper earnestly, cupping his jaw, smiling once he leans into your touch. “I’m glad we’re roommates, Steve. I know I never show it, but I am. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Yeah?” He asks, voice cracking softly, as if he finds it hard to believe you.
“I promise. Except maybe when you steal my snacks,” you joke, leaning up to kiss him when he begins to protest.
“I’m glad too, princess,” he murmurs against your lips, rolling onto his back and pulling your head against his chest.
As he wraps his arms around you, you think back to every moment with him. Every argument, every blowout. Despite your emotions, despite your previous words, they never did feel that serious. Never felt like they had any sort of venom or purpose behind them. It sort of felt like you were dancing around this unspoken thing, avoiding seeing past his annoying quirks just so you could dodge your feelings.
So really, it was never about him being a dick. About him stealing your shit, not closing cabinets, and leaving sweatshirts scattered around the living room for you to clean up and fold later.
At that thought, a previous argument pops to the forefront of your mind. With a deep breath, you nuzzle into his chest.
“I stole your sweatshirt on purpose,” you admit, wrapping your arm around his middle.
Steve laughs loudly, the sound warm and bright, rumbling against your ear. “I know. I left it out for you.”
You both laugh together at the absurdity of it all, basking in each other's warmth. Scent. Touch. And really, neither of you would have it any other way.
vocal!steve who can hardly keep quiet in bed. in missonary he’s whining into your neck and moaning into your ears. constantly praising you and showing how overwhelmed he’s getting. “fuck baby you feel so fucking good.” he’s even worse during doggy, babbling about how plump your ass looks and how you’re sucking him in. fingers slip and slide as he likes to call it around and in your ass just to test, talks about filling you up there one day, and how much tighter you must be. hands gripping your waist for dear life as his balls slap your ass loudly and his dick plunges you deep. he whines like a bitch when you ride him, holding your waist and mouthing on your boobs, needing something to fill that mouth of his. he’s moaning and pleading as you take everything from him, fucking him so stupid he can’t even think straight.
steve had always been good at a lot of things, charm, hair, making you have the most random giggle attacks, and right now he’s very, very good at making you forget how words work.
your pastel-yellow sundress is rucked up around your waist while he’s kneeling between your thighs, one big hand splayed over your lower stomach, the other braced beside your head so he can lean down and watch your face.
“stevee!” you gasp, barely coherent.
“shhh, baby,” he murmurs, voice all honey, “you’re doin’ so good just takin’ it. don’t need to think right now, yeah? that’s my job.”
he rolls his hips again, so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. the pressure builds under his palm and your back arches without permission, a helpless little whimper slipping out.
steve’s thumb strokes a lazy circle right over the soft swell that appears every time he bottoms out.
“look at that,” he coos, genuinely delighted. “there she is. my pretty girl’s got the cutest little belly bulge tonight” his eyes flick from the spot under his hand up to your flushed face. “you feel me right here, don’t ya’ sweetheart? stretching you out so nice h-haah makin’ room just for me.”
all you can manage is a tiny, dazed nod which makes him chuckle.
“words, honey. use your words.” except the way he says it is so patronizingly gentle it basically cancels the instruction. “c’mon. tell me where you feel me.”
you try. you really do.
“in… in m’-mmph-tummy!,” you whisper, mortified and so turned on you’re shaking.
steve groans like you just handed him a winning lottery ticket. “yeah you do. right here.” he presses down a little firmer, enough to make you feel every thick inch of him even more obscenely. “my pretty girl walking around with my cock so deep in her belly she can’t even think straight. isn’t that cute?”
your eyes roll back.
he leans closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “you don’t have to be smart right now, baby. you just have to be full. and look-” another slow, grinding thrust, “-you’re doing such a good job at that”
the bulge shifts under his hand again and you make a sound that isn’t even a word, just pure, overwhelmed need.
steve kisses the corner of your mouth, sweet like he didn’t just bully your cervix into submission.
“that’s it,” he breathes against your lips. “just let me take care of you. my dumb, pretty girl doesn’t need to do anything but feel good and look cute with my dick printed on her stomach.”
he picks up the rhythm just enough to make the little swell appear and disappear with every stroke, mesmerized by it, murmuring praise the whole time like it’s a love language only the two of you speak.
“god, you’re perfect like this.. so full of me… gonna keep you right here all night, yeah? let you cockwarm me till you forget your own name hm?”
you’re already halfway there.
and steve, so sweet, condescending, stupidly hot steve just smiles down at you like ruining your brain is the most romantic thing he’s ever done.
! — fauxcest, fem!reader, daddy kink, age play, established dynamic between consenting adults, mentions of pee, oral (m receiving).
How I think daddy-daughter time with Frank Langdon would go:
¹ — MORNING ROUTINE.
Every morning Frank Langdon lays you on the bed and admires your tired gaze. Your soft cotton panties with the little bow in the middle used to embarrass you— lace panties are so much sexier, but Frank makes you feel desired in anything you wear.
Most of all, Frank’s got a thing about cleaning you up before you get ready for the day. It always starts with a fresh pair of panties, but he makes sure the pair you wore to bed are unusable until they’ve been through a cycle in the wash. “You ready to start the morning, big girl?” he’d ask, waiting for a gentle yawn and a nod. When you give the green light, your tired eyes still adjusting to the morning sunshine, he pushes your jammies down and takes a good look at your panties. “Oh, baby, they’re really wet… Is this pee or did you have a good dream?” When you shrug, unsure, because he’s right, it could be either liquid, Frank bends down and presses his nose to the middle of the soaked cotton plane. “Mm, might be a bit of both, sweetheart.”
Following your tired ‘hmph,’ Frank slips a finger between the side of your panties and presses his cock in between your cunt and the fabric. Part of the morning ritual is that Frank makes your panties messy so you can’t complain about him making you put on a fresh pair.
² — TEARS.
“You’re so moody today,” Frank furrows his brow, a warning look shot in your direction as you whine about something insignificant. The whole day has been you moaning and groaning, stomping your feet, and crossing your arms when things didn’t go as planned. Truth be told, he’s a little over it. “Why don’t you lay down for a little bit?”
“I’m not laying down, Frank!” the suggestion is a clear trigger, your facial expression crumbling and fragmenting into something more temperamental. He didn’t even know it was possible.
“You’re a mess today. C’mere,” Frank pulls at your pants, sliding his finger in the belt loop and forcing you closer to him. When he gets your body wrapped into his, he’s walking you over to the bedroom and gently pushing you onto the bed despite your tears and protests. “C’mon, baby, talk to dad.”
You thrash a few times before your body feels too tired to cause any more of a scene, but the tears and desperate hiccups don’t settle. With your head pressed against the pillow, Frank watches over you. He angled his body so his knees are pressed into the edge of the bed and he’s looking down at you. Your hands grab at his waistband and the tears taste salty as they roll down your cheeks and paint your lips.
“Oh, okay,” Frank says with realization. He really shouldn’t be rewarding this behavior, but he just wants you to calm down. As he frees his cock from his pants, he positions his body so your head can rest on the pillow while your mouth suckles on the tip of his cock. It only takes a few minutes before your droopy eyes close and sleep caresses you. “Sleep well, sweetheart.”
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