steve harrington x reader | cuddling steve on a slow, sleepy morning, r loves his chest hair. this whole thing is just so soft and makes u feel warm inside (if it doesn't, i owe you). takes places after monsters are gone i guess? idk guys but his scars from s4 are mentioned briefly. his beamer survives! 1k
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“There’s nothing we have to do today, right?”
Steve hums, sending the warm vibration of the sound through his chest. It tickled the side of your face from how you were positioned, slotted between his legs with your cheek pressed into the patch of hair on his chest as he lounged in a half-sit up against a pillow. His hand cupped the back of your head, scrunching his fingers through your hair gently.
You could die right here and be fulfilled, you think.
“Depends. Was there something that you wanted to do today?”
Now it was your turn to hum. Maybe there was something yesterday that you wanted to do, but right now when Steve’s freckle-spotted skin was taking up your entire field of vision, there wasn’t much you could remember. You run your left hand up his side, finger running past his faded scars to discover a lighter brown mark on his skin. Was this one new?
Steve gently taps at the back of your neck, silently signaling for you to look up at him. Within one of Steve’s slow and sleepy blinks, you turned your head to rest your chin against his chest. You met his eyes through your eyelashes, still fogged with early morning.
“Could go for a drive. Meet Rob at the Squawk,” he pitches, eyebrows raising awaiting for you to say something.
You consider it for all of half a second.
The idea of a drive is nice. Steve’s hand on your thigh while listening to whatever one of the three tapes you choose plays throughout his car. So does seeing Robin work her magic at the radio station, having quick conversations between songs. All good options.
But not better than this.
You shift slightly, pressing your cheek back into his chest, nose brushing skin that smells like sleep. And maybe a little bit of lavender. He definitely used your body wash again. Your hands rise in sync to hide your fingers beneath his back instead of answering him right away.
Steve watches you. You can feel it. The way his chest rises a little deeper when you settle back in, the way his thumb starts tracking slow, lazy lines at the nape of your neck like he’s already guessed your answer.
“Mmm,” you say finally, voice muffled. “I was thinking maybe we don’t go anywhere.”
His eyebrows knit together, but there’s no disappointment there. Just curiosity. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you repeat, quiet. “I just… don’t really want to move.”
Steve’s mouth quirks into a soft smile, the kind he gets when he’s trying not to laugh but can’t quite help himself. “That so?”
You nod against him, the movement small. “I can’t disturb this. I don’t know about you, but ‘m right where I need to be.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, thumb tearing away from your neck to tuck a stray clump of hair back behind your ear. “Yeah. I can tell, practically merged yourself with me.”
You smile to yourself and tilt your head, lips brushing his skin once. Then again, slower this time, a soft kiss pressed into the center of his chest. Steve exhales softly, his hands tickling a line up your arms.
“You know,” he murmurs, “you’re really committed to this whole turning us into one entity thing today.”
You hum, vibration muffled by him, and press another kiss below the first. His chest hair tickles your nose, and you scrunch it a little without thinking, fingers threading through it as you shift closer.
He snorts, “Hey–hey, careful,” he teases. “You’re gonna get lost in there.”
You lift your head just enough to look at him, eyes bright and full of fake offense. “I don’t see a problem.”
“Uh-huh.” His smile grows crooked, eyes dipping to where your fingers trace in the center of his chest. “You know you’re fully buried in there now, right? Like, this is excessive.”
You lean down again, choosing to not entertain his judgement, and kiss him once more. He exhales through his nose, pretending to be bothered even as his arms tighten around you. When you pull back, you don’t go far. Just enough to look at his face, really look at it. The softness of his eyes, The way his lashes cast little shadows on his cheeks. The faint crease between his strong brows that smooths when he notices you staring.
Steve blinks. “What? Why’re you looking at me like that?”
“Like what.”
“Like you’re thinking too hard before breakfast,” he says, smiling. “Or like you’re about to do something.”
You shrug, doing your best to pretend nonchalance, even as your hand slides up his chest again. “Maybe I just like you.”
“Yeah?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
That’s all the invitation he needs. Steve’s stomach tightens underneath you as he tilts his head down, meeting you halfway for a slow and easy kiss. It’s barely there at first. Just the lightest press of his mouth to yours, like he’s checking in. Giving you time to change your mind, in case you preferred his hairy chest. But you don’t.
His lips are warm and soft, moving against yours with the kind of care that makes your chest ache a little. Like this is just one of many to come in the future. You sigh into it without thinking, and Steve responds instantly, deepening the kiss just a fraction.
His hand slides to your jaw, thumb resting gently beneath your ear. He doesn’t rush you, or try to take more than you’re already giving. He just stays there, kissing you. You melt into him, fingers squeezing his softened sides as you kiss him back. When you pull away, it’s only because you need air. Your foreheads rest together, his nose smushed to your cheek, breaths still a little uneven. Steve keeps his eyes closed, memorizing the feeling.
“Maybe,” he mutters softly, “just maybe, I like you too.”
You smile and tuck yourself back into his chest, pressing one more gentle kiss there. Steve's fingers resume their lazy path against the back of your head. He relaxes completely, like for just today, there's nothing expected from either of you.
summary: you've just moved to metropolis, and today's the day your roommate moves in. what starts as an awkward introduction and a casual coffee run quickly goes sideways when you both get locked out. now you and clark have to figure out how to survive the night—and, somehow, enjoy it too.
warnings: gn!reader, clark's awkward as per usual, a very secret mutual pining and soft yearning, just fluff, slowburn roommates to lovers!!! this is the first of many roomie clark fics, please enjoy!!
roommate!clark headcanons
You weren't sure what you expected your new roommate to look like, but it definitely wasn’t this.
The man standing in your doorway had to duck his head slightly to even fit under the frame. His dark hair was tousled by the wind. His glasses were a little crooked, like maybe he’d been pushing them up on the train all morning. And his smile—shy, warm, almost apologetic for even existing—made something in your chest do a very stupid flutter. Which was amplified when you noticed the deep dimples on either side of his cheeks.
“Hi,” he said softly. “Um, I’m Clark. Clark Kent. I… think I’m supposed to move in today?”
He said it like he wasn’t sure he had the right address. Like he was ready to apologize if he’d somehow found himself at the doorstep of the wrong apartment. Metropolis could be confusing, after all. There was even a new hero in the city, someone called Superman. Having someone keeping the streets safe was definitely a perk—albeit a rare one—when moving to a city like this. Honestly, the more appearances this super guy made, the more you found yourself rooting for him.
You stepped aside quickly, “Right, yeah! Yeah, come on in.”
Clark carried his suitcase inside like he was afraid to bump into anything. From the way he carefully moved, cautious of his sheer size, you could already tell he was painfully considerate.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “The train got delayed, then my cab got stuck behind someone who didn’t know where they were going, and then I—” he paused, realizing that this was so unnecessary. It caused a blush to creep up his neck. “Sorry. That was a lot of words. I talk too much when I’m nervous.”
“You’re nervous?” you asked, surprised.
He blinked at you, and then laughed a quiet and embarrassed laugh. “Well… yeah. New place. New roommate. I’m trying to not make a weird first impression. Which I think I’m failing at.”
“You’re doing fine so far,” you couldn’t help but giggle. It was incredibly ironic that a huge, at least over six-foot, man was so unsure of himself. If you had that height and size, you’d probably walk around like you owned the place. But there’s something admirable in his commitment to gentleness despite his size.
“Oh, that’s a relief. I think if my parents heard I made an embarrassment of myself during my elevator pitch to my roommate, they wouldn’t even be surprised,” he blurts out, forgetting to breathe. Halfway through his moment of air, he realizes he never even asked your name.
Fortunately, you meet him with patience and he realizes he can actually let himself relax a little. After introducing yourself, you showed him to his room, trying very hard to not stare at how he has to walk through the doorframe slightly sideways just to fit. He looked around the bare room like the place was something precious, even though the walls were slightly mismatched, and one corner still had painter’s tape stuck to it.
“It’s perfect,” Clark said with a beaming smile that made you believe the cheapest apartment in Metropolis actually wasn’t so bad.
You learn against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely. “Glad you like it. This place isn’t exactly the crown jewel of the city.”
“No,” he says, turning to you with an earnest certainty he seems to carry so naturally, it’s nice. Really.”
You smile back, and for a second you forget you’re supposed to be giving him the new-roommate tour. Mostly because you’re still getting used to the idea that you live here now, too.
Metropolis wasn’t exactly a part of the plan. You came on a whim—well, maybe not a whim, but definitely a moment of finally doing something instead of just thinking about it. Life in the small town was too stagnant for you. So you’d spent years dreaming of leaving your tiny hometown, telling yourself you’d move somewhere loud and bright and overwhelming, just to see if you’d keep up with it. So, you did. Did you think much about the logistics, no… but you were here now, and you don’t think you'll be going back anytime soon.
Half of you friends said you were brave and that they wish they could do that. The other half said you were a little insane. It was probably a mix of both.
You hadn’t been in Metropolis long, but you were already sure that the city would swallow you whole if you let it—endless noise, people brushing past you, skyscrapers so tall you couldn’t see the tops on foggy days. You weren’t in Kansas anymore, you thought to yourself as a joke. Despite it all, something about it called to you. Maybe it was the possibility of becoming someone braver than the version of you who stayed home too long.
So now here you are. New city, new apartment with mismatched walls, and a new roommate who somehow makes the place feel less terrifying just by existing.
“I grew up in a farmhouse with doors that didn’t close all the way and a roof that whistled whenever it rained,” he gushed. “This is a luxury.”
You smiled, then realized his eyes were drifting—not in a rude way, just observing. Taking you in the same way he took in the room. Better than how you took him in, giving Clark the classic up down as your face grew warmer. Subtly, of course. His look was curious, warm in a way that made you suddenly aware that you barely knew him.
“So,” Clark broke the brief silence. “What brought you to Metropolis? You mentioned you moved here pretty recently.”
Right.
“Staying in a small town wasn’t doing anything for me. So, I moved here to find work.” Wow, that’s kind of embarrassing to admit out loud. You offered him a very casual smile, like it wasn’t something stressing you out every waking second. Moving here with no plan and admitting to your roommate that you were unemployed. Way to throw up some major red flags after he’s only been here for less than an hour. “New city, new beginnings.”
Except, Clark nodded like that was the most understandable thing in the world. “That’s very brave,” he said simply.
Brave.
Not reckless, or naive. Brave.
You hadn’t expected that word, and for a moment you were stuck staring at him. This too tall, too kind stranger who meant it sincerely, no teasing or pity. Just the truth.
His smile deepened. And you cleared your throat. “What about you? What made you pick the city?”
“Well… I’m starting at the Daily Planet. Junior reporter.” He scratched his cheek, sheepish. “I’m, uh… hoping I don’t get fired in the first week.”
“You won’t,” you said automatically, way too fast. And he blinked at you.
“I won’t?”
“No. You’re…” charming as hell, disastrously handsome, and clearly the most earnest man alive, “you’re just the type of person who succeeds at things.”
Smooth enough recovery, right? His cheeks went pink. “I don’t know about that. I have a tendency to always be late.”
“I do,” you said, surprising even yourself with how certain you sounded. “There’s some kind of hope radiating off of you.”
Clark looked at you for a long, quiet moment. Like he wasn’t used to people believing in him so quickly. Or, like he’s analyzing how to get out of this situation.
“Well, thank you.”
You smiled, feeling the humming curiosity in the air between you two grow. Steady… but rising nonetheless.
“So,” Clark said, tapping his thumb against his bag strap that was tossed over his shoulder. “Should we… maybe grab coffee? Like, um, roommate bonding? I hear that’s a thing."
You giggle, because how can you not. “Like an icebreaker?”
A sheepish nod, dark curls shifting with his movement. “Yeah, exactly. Only if you want to. No pressure at all. Like—zero pressure. Less than zero. Negative pressure.”
“Clark,” you said, grinning, “coffee sounds great.”
And somehow, that “quick coffee” turned into walking four blocks, sharing stories about the stranger subway encounters you’ve experienced so far, the sketchy landlords you both had to call trying to find a place, and listening to Clark ramble about growing up in Kansas with a kind of nostalgia that made your heart ache.
He laughs easily. Smiles often. And keeps glancing at you like he’s making sure you were having a good time.
And you are. More than you expected, and far more than made sense for someone you’d just met an hour ago.
By the time you climbed the apartment steps again, you were genuinely, stupidly, comfortable around him. And he was too.
You reached for the door first, patting your pockets for your keys.
Then again.
Then… again.
Clark stopped beside you. “Everything okay?”
“I… think I forgot my key.”
He frowned sympathetically. “That’s alright! I have—”
He patted his pockets.
Check.
Check.
…check?
You both froze.
“Clark,” you said slowly, “please tell me you did not also forget your key.”
He blinked at you, horrified. “I thought you had yours.”
You stared at each other. Your stomach dropped. Clark’s hand rubbing the back of his neck.
“...oh no,” he whispered, utterly defeated.
And that was how on your first day as roommates, you ended up locked out together—with nothing but the city evening, a questionable amount of mutual embarrassment, and the terrifying sense that maybe, just maybe, you already liked Clark a little too much.
You both just… stood there.
The hallway light above you flickered. Clark’s eyes darted between you and the locked door like maybe it would magically open if he looked at it nice enough.
“So,” you said finally, trying not to laugh. “Do we, uh… sleep out here?”
“No!” Clark blurted, then winced at his accidental loudness. “I am—no, we don’t. I think the building manager leaves at ten. Which was… an hour ago.”
You smiled, and he relaxed about half an inch.
“Well,” you shrugged, “we could wander until morning and then call maintenance?”
“I… guess we could.” His voice was unsure, but his eyes were bright. So hopeful in a way he couldn’t hide.
So the two of you headed out into the city.
Metropolis after midnight was a different world—quieter, softer, washed in neon.
You ended up in a tiny corner store that smelt like coffee grounds and fried foods. Clark hovered beside you in front of the snack aisle, hands in his pockets, shoulders big enough to shield you from the invasive fluorescent lighting. Thank god for that. You were already tired enough as it was, you don’t need the added headache.
“Okay,” you said, “if we’re going to be homeless for the night, we need to equip ourselves with essential equipment.”
Clark huffed a laugh. “Homeless is a strong word.”
“Roofless, then.”
He gave you a shy grin that made something warm bloom in your chest. You grabbed chips. Clark grabbed two bottles of water and a pack of peanut butter cookies like it was a totally normal thing to do at midnight with someone you met six hours ago.
After Clark paid, saying he was the one to ask you for coffee when you tried to pay for yourself, you walked for blocks. It strangely felt like the world had just shrunk to the two of you, the rhythm of your footsteps, the quiet conversations.
You talked about everything people usually try to hide on a first meeting, stuff you don't tell new roommates, and definitely not strangers.
You told him why you came to Metropolis. He told you what his small town in Kansas—Smallville, you learned—felt like on warm summer mornings. You told him how scared you are to start over. He told you how scared he was to not mess up this new chapter of his life.
Again, you’d never do this with anyone else. But it was okay, because deep down, you both felt that, already, there was an unmistakable sense that the other was becoming impossibly important.
Around 1:30am, it got cold. You tried to hide your shiver, but Clark noticed it instantly. He slowly unbuttoned his flannel without a word, shrugging it off and extending his arm as he held it out for you to take. It left him in a plain white t-shirt, which looked like it was fighting for its life trying to not tear apart the broadness of his chest… not to mention his softly-firm and massive biceps threatening the fabric too.
You blinked. “Clark, you’ll freeze.”
“I don’t get cold easily,” he said. An outrageous lie. To which, you stared at him until he caved.
“...Okay, I get a little cold. But you’re freezing,” he murmurs. He doesn’t make the exchange awkward, just drapes it over you with a delicateness that makes your breath stutter.
“But now you’re cold,” you try to protest. Except you already know it’s useless.
He laughs. “I’m okay. I run… warm.”
(Understatement of the century, but you don’t know that yet.)
You walk like that for a while—his flannel draped over you, his hands studded in his pockets, shoulders brushing every few steps as the night gets quieter around you. You continue to talk about nothing, and everything. Eventually, a splash of bright neon catches your eye.
A gaudy, little all-night tourist shop. The kind that sells magnets and keychains and cheap water bottles… and a wall of hoodies.
“Oh my god,” you mutter, stopping dead in your tracks. “Clark… they have hoodies.”
In the blink of an eye, you’ve dashed towards the store. Too carelessly for Clark’s liking… you didn’t even look both ways before you j-walked across the street. Who does that?!
“What? Where are you going—” and then he saw it, through his panic soaked vision that you induced.
The same tourist store. With a massive Superman logo in the window. Are they even allowed to do that..? He wondered, but it doesn’t matter when you’ve slipped away from him and through the store’s doors.
In the blink of an eye, he catches up to you. “We don’t need hoodies,” he says quickly.
You raise a brow. “Got something against being warm, or something against Superman?”
Clark both tensed, and stifled a giggle at, what sounded like, the protective tone you put on. Like you were going to go to war for Superman. You urge him to speak with a waving hand.
“I–that’s not–” he fumbles, letting out a frustrated sigh before trying again. “I just don’t need that hoodie.”
You pull the hoodie off the rack, holding up the biggest size you could find against Clark’s chest. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him, then the logo on the sweater, then back at him. His heart stopped. He would’ve much rather been caught with his pants down, than have you piece his alter ego together after only hours of knowing each other. Then, your eyes squinted… taking a slower look at him… and the symbol against his chest.
“Weird…” you think, but actually say out loud. Clark was actually going to break through the store window and run back to Smallville in the blink of an eye—
“The colours don’t suit you.” Oh, he thinks. “Like… at all.”
You tilt your head, studying him and the logo one last time. “Yeah… no. Too bright. You’re more of a … forest green? Dark blue? Something broody.”
“I am not broody,” Clark protests instantly, which would’ve been a lot more convincing if he didn’t sound offended, flustered, and deeply relieved all at once.
You shrug. “Fine. To each their own.”
He has no idea what to do with that, so he just stands there, ears blushed pink, while you put the hoodie back like you’ve saved him from the most horrible fashion mistake. You wander to the next rack and point at another option. “This one suits you better.”
He follows your finger, and sees a hoodie that is aggressively ridiculous. A heather grey hoodie with bold black lettering and a huge cartoonish red heart. I love Metropolis, he pieces together. It’s exactly the kind of tacky, over-enthusiastic tourist merch that shouts its own existence. Cheesy, and absolutely impossible to wear subtly… but Clark has already accepted his defeat.
You nudge the hanger toward him. “Try it on.”
Clark looks like you’ve asked him to lift a tractor with one hand. Which, very ironically, would’ve been much easier for him.
“Right now? Don’t you think we should buy it first?” he asks.
You look behind your shoulder, the sleepless employee nose deep in their phone. You shrug, giving Clark a ‘who cares’ kind of look. “We’re bonding anyway. New roommates buy dumb clothes together, right?”
He laughs under his breath, soft and shy, but he obeys. He pulls the hoodie over his head, messing up his hair in a way that makes your stomach turn warm. The fabric settles over him and… he looks, cute. Painfully cute.
You step back, crossing your arms as you study him with exaggerated seriousness.
“Okay,” you decide. “That’s actually unfair. You were supposed to look stupid.”
Clark blushes immediately, as if he hasn’t been since the moment he met you. “I–I don’t really think it fits right,” he says, tugging at the hem like he's trying to disappear into it.
“Oh my god,” you groan, incredibly dramatically, turning toward the register. “We’re buying it. You’re wearing it home.”
“I don’t think that’s necess–”
“Too late,” you sing, waving a hand behind you, “That’s the price of forgetting your keys!”
“You forgot yours too…” but it’s too late, you’re already buying both of the sweaters. Clark sighs, but he’s smiling. The kind of smile that softens his whole face and makes him look like he's finally letting himself enjoy something.
Which only gets worse when he sees you tug your Superman sweater over your head. Clark’s breath catches, painfully. Because seeing you in that sweater does something to him. This warm, aching bloom in his chest he can’t name. Because you’re tugging on the symbol he carries every day, smiling like it already means something to you. His symbol. His promise. You chose him without realizing it, like you already believe in him. And he has to look away for a second, just to breathe. Thankfully, the soft thud of his flannel getting tossed into his chest also aids in bringing him back to a more level mindset.
You walk back out into the city, colder than before you went into the store. You shiver, and let out a little sound of relief now that you’re cozied in a warm sweater. The sound punches Clark right in the ribs, harder than any he’s tanked from other galactic beings.
“Okay,” you say while admiring the new collection for your closet. “Worth it.”
“It looks good on you,” Clark says before he can stop himself. His voice dripped with admiration.
“Thanks,” you murmur, cheeks warming even though the cold night air keeps your skin cold. “You too. The heart is very… Clark.”
Clark makes a noise like someone hit him with a pillow, as if wearing his heart on his sleeve—or you guess, his chest—wasn’t one of the most powerful lesson his Pa taught him. You just laugh, and start walking. He follows automatically.
At some point, you sit on the steps of some random building. You’ve done enough walking now where if you spent the next five days in bed, it’d be completely justified. Your shoulders fall against each other naturally. Your eyes drift half-closed, and Clark’s head tips back against the brick wall. All things considered, this wasn’t so bad.
“This is nice,” you admit, sleep dragging at your voice.
“Yeah,” Clark whispers. “It is. I think I’d recommend locking yourself and your new roomie out of the apartment to any strangers who move in together.”
You snort, tugging the hood of your Superman sweater closer to your cheeks. “It’s a solid life tip. Make sure to add it to the handbook.”
Clark huffs a laugh, weighed down by exhaustion. “It can go right between ‘stay hydrated’ and ‘don’t piss off your landlord.’”
You grin, “Look at you. Already so wise.”
“It’s the delirium,” he corrects, rubbing a hand over his face. “Pretty sure I’m going to collapse the second we get inside.”
You lift your arm and point vaguely forward. “Onwards. Final stretch.”
You both rise… very slowly. It’s not really a walk to the building, but more of a drift, like two ghosts haunting the streets of Metropolis. Or zombies. The city’s barely awake, but the faint light of dawn is starting to creep across buildings, in that very soft way mornings sometimes are.
“Did we really stay out aaaall night?” you ask.
“Mmmhm,” Clark hums, you’re not sure he even opened his mouth to answer you. ”Not on purpose, though.”
“No,” you agree, yawning so hard your eyes water. “And we will never, ever make that mistake again.”
Clark gives a little laugh at that, but he’s swaying slightly, and you nudge him back upright with your shoulder. “We can do it again, just with some keys, and a brain too.”
You shuffle the last half block like that, barely talking, almost sleepwalking, and shoulders brushing because neither of you have the willpower or coordination to walk in a straight line. Eventually, the apartment building comes into view, like a lifeboat saving two exhausted souls stranded in the middle of the ocean.
“Oh my god,” you whisper, “Clark, are you seeing this?”
“We made it. Shocking,” he responds, dead serious.
He fumbles the keys you received from the building manager only once—which, considering his state, was actually pretty impressive—and the door clicks. Clark pushes the door open, and warm apartment air greets you.
You step inside, dragging your feet like your body has forgotten how to move properly. Clark follows close behind, shoulders brushing against yours as if having you directly by his side was instinct now.
“We will never make that mistake again,” Clark says, tired but teasing, eyes half-lidded. A small smile tugs at his lips. You both stand there for a moment, just breathing. There’s a silent understanding that bed calls for both of you, but in there… there's a lingering feeling that’s heavy with something neither of you can quite name.
“Get to bed,” Clark suggests. And you’re not going to be the one who stalls any longer. Your feet drag its final steps before you pause at your bedroom door.
“Goodnight,” you murmur, already feeling the impending, maybe permanent, shut of your eyes.
Clark's smile softens into something shy, and sincere. “Goodnight,” he whispers back. “Thank you… for tonight.”
You tilt your head, his words warming you up on the inside. “You too, Clark.”
And then, finally, you close your door.
On the other side, you hear him take a slow breath, like he’s trying to hold onto the night a little longer. You smile into the brightening glow of your room, the sunrise completely ignorant to your sleepiness.
The first day of knowing him is over, and somehow… It already feels like the best beginning.
boyfriend eddie munson who uses your tummy as a pillow and consistently asks if you can breath because he doesn’t want to smother you
boyfriend eddie munson who gets you the best seat in the house to let the fans know that while he may be their favorite rockstar, he’s yours only
boyfriend eddie munson who said he would fall asleep in the theater when you want to see a girly film but he actually finds it interesting
boyfriend eddie munson who adds a beautiful woman to each campaign and annoys the boys because they all know its you and he wont shut up about you
boyfriend eddie munson who may or may not have stolen a top of yours for when you leave so he has something that smells like you (he gave you his hoodie)
boyfriend eddie munson who acts out dramatic scenes from different movies to make you laugh when its been a rough day
boyfriend eddie munson who not only holds your hand, but your shoulder and hip while walking through large crowds to make sure you never get separated
boyfriend eddie munson who not only agreed, but gave the most dramatic performance on halloween when you told him you wanted to be morticia and gomez addams
boyfriend eddie munson who loves when you wash his curls and compares it to those baby ducks in the dawn commercials (continues to beg you to get a pet duck)
tonight i was thinking about steve between reader’s legs and watching them hold a vibe to their clit while he ogled at how their cunt clenches around nothing … telling them to keep their legs spread wide so he doesn’t miss anything.. and when he decides they’re too empty (aka he can’t take it anymore) he slips two fingers into them and tells them not to cum but still makes them keep the wand on their clit … and when they’re begging to cum he slips his fingers out so he can watch what your pretty, needy pussy looks like when it cums.. just saying
— steve gives you a lesson on horse back riding. then he tests your memory in the bedroom. (18+)
smut, p in v, big dick steve (duh, it’s canon!), soft dom to sub-ish steve, teasing, riding, tit sucking, unprotected sex n cumming inside. fem!reader, but no gendered language/pronouns. 2.5k
a/n: i saw @stevenose—you’re incredible btw, ily—talking about cowboy steve and simply couldn't help myself. please enjoy!
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“Y’know, really impressed me out there,” Steve flew up the ranch’s stairs, taking them two at a time. You follow close behind, taking your time up to make your way up the porch. A sheepish smile spreads across your face as he holds the door open for you, hat placed over his heart.
The better part of your morning was spent in the barn, Steve having insisted on you meeting his sweet girl. It was concerning, to say the least. Steve couldn't possibly be one of those double-timing outlaws, right?
Relief washed over you when the cowboy emerged from the stable with a sandy chestnut coloured mare. You try to bite back a giggle, but fail horribly as you notice the few dark spots that spread across her coat. Her mane was even the same shade as his.
You always hear about how dogs resemble their owners, but Steve made you question if it was a necessity for cowboys to resemble their horses.
It was a rather memorable morning. Steve did the heavy lifting of saddling the mare and walked her in laps around the barn after giving you “lessons” on how to ride her. His lessons were more along the lines of his hands guiding your hips back and forth to mimic the movement of the horse. Steve did verbally explain some things too, where to hold the reins and other basics of horse riding. The whole time, he couldn’t seem to wipe off his prideful smile. The two most important ladies of his life were getting along.
“I think you chose the easiest horse for me to ride,” you admitted. It was true, his sweet girl lived up to her name. She was as gentle as those giants came. She had gone as far as to huff a deep sigh when you stopped planting quick kisses all over her nose, her personality even matching Steve’s.
Steve catches you in his arms before you can walk past him, fingers hooking into the loops on your pants when you turn and face him. “Riding ain’t no easy task.”
“Is that so? Maybe I need to get back out there and practice,” you smirk up at him, and he smirks back at you, boyish and cocky.
“No can do, ‘s too hot. Sun’s at its peak, sweetheart.”
Steve is beautiful, intimidatingly so. You hold your breath without intending to, and a strange gaspy noise slips past your lips when he pulls you into his body by the hips, leaning in close to you.
Plush lips capture yours, and your skin burns hotter than the midday sun. It was a feverish kiss, the warmth in you only elevating as he guided you backwards without daring to break apart. You follow his lead until your thighs meet a soft, plush material, and Steve’s insistent pushing reassures you that it was the mattress.
A hand raised to the back of your neck, encouraging you to trust him. You follow his lead, allowing yourself to fall to your elbows. Steve is the one to break apart the kiss, chest heaving, lungs in need of air. You’re embarrassed to find yourself chasing his lips as his back straightens.
“Luckily for you, practice can be done right here.” Steve’s eyes wander around the room, teasingly. His hands slip down to your sides, tracing your frame with a gentle touch. Once his eyes catch yours, he toys with the top button of your shirt and tilts his head, a non-verbal ask for approval. You nod eagerly.
His fingers slip each button through its respective slit in the fabric, starting from the top and slowly moving down. Steve’s head dives straight into your neck, teeth gently nipping at your skin, occasional kiss easing where he may have bit down too hard. “Sorry, sweetheart.”
His whispered tone sent chills down your spine. You didn’t mind. You needed him, and you were going to take him, no matter what form that was.
Your blouse slips from where it’s tucked into your pants with a gentle tug. You lift your back off of the bed to help him remove it completely. Steve bites his lip, taking three steps backwards slowly, hazel eyes wandering across your body.
“Christ,” his hands rose to his hair, brushing back the sweaty strands that fell in front of his face. A palm gently pressed into your chest with a squeeze, thumb toying with the lace seam of your bra. “You are the sweetest thing I have ever seen.”
His hand trails up until he reaches your neck, fingers gently wrapping around it. The mattress gives way beneath Steve as he draws you back into a kiss. Your legs are forcibly spread apart when his knee slots itself between your thighs. You whine and grind a little bit downwards, clit catching his jean clad thigh.
Heavy pressure of his hands on your hip bones are quick to halt any attempt of relieving yourself.
“I know, I know,” he shushes, pressing his lips to your temple. You whimper his name. Steve’s going to cum in his pants if you keep making those pretty sounds for him. He takes a deep breath, trying to regain his control. “Need you to show me you remember what I taught you.”
A hand finally moves from where it pinned you down, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can you do that for me?”
You nod and Steve hums in approval, lifting himself from you and gently tugging you to your feet. Hands and lips trail down your body as he lowers himself on one knee. Steve removes your pants at a painfully slow place, to the point where you meet him halfway and step out of them yourself.
He licks his lips at the sight of you, standing before him in nothing but your lace undergarments. Steve rests his hands on the backs of your thighs before pressing his lips to your clothed cunt. You felt light-headed, even more so when you felt his tongue flatten against it.
“God,” you sob. “—fuck, Steve.”
He licks another stripe up the fabric before barking out a laugh. He slips the small piece of fabric down your thighs. “Exactly, baby. That’s what I'm trying to get you to do.”
You whimper as he gives one final kiss, nose pressing against your nerves. As he comes to a stand, he rids himself of his clothes. You try to do your best to help undo the buttons of his flannel, but your shaky hands prevent any progress. He tosses his clothes carelessly to the side.
Your eyes fixate on him as his briefs slip down his thighs, hardened cock springing free and slapping against his happy trail.
His cock is beautiful. Tip coloured a deep pink. It looked painful, must’ve been a relief to lose his jeans. Precum leaked from his slit making your mouth water.
Steve was quick to make his way to the bed, making himself comfortable with his back leaning against the pillows. His hair ruffles in the back as it presses into the wall. Steve pats his thigh, encouraging you to straddle them.
“There y’go,” he holds your waist, helping you settle on top of him. “Go on and show me that you know what to do now.”
Steve truly left you on your own, laying back further into the pillows and resting his arms behind his head. His hazel eyes simply stared at you, eyebrows rising an inch as he anticipated your next move.
You try to recall everything he had taught you earlier, but your arousal overtook your memory, brain too foggy to recollect his lessons. The one thing you can remember is the way his hands felt on you as you mounted the horse.
Your hand shyly reaches out to take a hold on the base of his cock, steadying it as you lift your hips. Just as you were going to let yourself sink down onto his length, Steve cleared his throat and you froze.
“Try again,” he spoke sternly, your eyebrows furrow.
“What?”
“C’mon, darling. Be smart, you know that’s not the first step,” his arm’s didn’t move, he didn’t move a single muscle. He made no effort to try to help you out, it was frustrating. “Think. Don’t make me seem like a bad teacher.”
The cogs in your brain felt like they were moving a million miles a minute. But then you remembered the way his arms looked as he threw the saddle up and over onto the horse’s back. Steve prepared the horse for you before you got onto her.
Prepare.
You look up at Steve through your lashes, ensuring that his eyes stay on you. A wave of confidence flows through you, knowing you’ve got this right. With a grin across your face, you lean down until your lips are centimeters away from Steve’s leaking cock. His stomach tenses as your tongue slips past your lips, a string of drool falling directly onto his tip. You bit your lip after, maintaining eye contact with your cowboy.
He attempts to stifle a whimper, filing as you wrap your hand around his cock with firm pressure, thumb pressing against the aching head.
Steve tries his best to keep up the facade of him being in control, but reality slips when your thumb spreads the saliva all over his length. He tosses his head back, lips falling agape with a grunt. You press a quick kiss to his tip before you decide he was sufficiently prepared enough.
You fix your posture, bringing yourself to hover over top of him. Before you allow yourself to sink onto Steve, you rub his tip along your wet folds. His stuttered breath breaks the silence, and you gasp out at the feeling of him against you.
Steve’s eyes fixate between your legs, watching attentively as his cock slowly disappears inside of you. His face contorts, an expression somewhere between pleasure and mesmerization. Your head drops low, hand grasping for Steve’s chest. You sink yourself down with a wince, taking him inch by inch.
It’s a good pain, taking Steve so deeply. You couldn’t think of a better feeling than taking a seat on him, practically feeling his cock all the way inside your stomach. Your clit meeting his pelvis was a pretty close second though.
His hips snap upwards, taking you by surprise. You barely had time to adjust to his size. Steve’s hands slip from beneath his head to hold the soft flesh of your hips urgently.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Can’t help myself.” His apologies were genuine, sincerity dripping in his voice with a string of more ‘fuck’s and ‘sorry’s. Your cunt was wrapping around him feverishly, so tight and warm. “You’re doing so well, baby. Keep it going.”
Your hips rock back and forth instinctively.
You were able to fuzzily recall the way Steve’s hands were pressed against your lower back and abdomen before you hopped onto the horse. He was mimicking the motion you needed to have to ride comfortably. He said something about moving with the animal and absorbing her movement, but none of that mattered now.
All that matters was the way your hips roll slowly, inviting Steve to explore every ridge and bump inside of you. A whine fills the room as you guide his cock to finally rub against your sweet spot. You experiment, lifting your hips a few inches before sinking back down on him. The drag of him against your walls was heavenly.
Steve’s gaze made you feel like he was about to eat you whole. Looking just as blissed out as you feel. His eyes fixate on your chest.
“Woah,” he commands you to halt, and you comply. His hands reach behind your back, taking a hold of the clasp of your bra and releasing each hook. You shimmy the straps off of your shoulders, and Steve holds the fabric against your skin until you give him a nod of approval. As soon as you give it to him, he lets the fabric slip from your chest, revealing your tits to the chilling air. “Shit, look at you.”
Steve gawks at your naked figure on display, your tits bouncing with your movements on his cock. His arms wrap around the small of your back desperately, forcing your back to arch as he pulls you closer. Lips latch onto one of your hardened nipples. He ensures your other side isn’t left lonely, his large hand grasping at the soft flesh. A whimper of his name fell from you.
He can recognize the desperation in your voice. Steve coos watching you work hard to maintain your pace. Working so hard to milk the cum from his cock despite the burn in your thighs.
“Please,” you sob. “I— fuck. Need your help.”
“I got you, sweetheart. Did so good f’me,” his feet plant into the linens and arms wrap around your waist. The force of his thrust pushes his cock impossibly deep, the tip kissing your cervix. You cry out, hand wrapping around his bicep to steady yourself. He finds your sweet spot faster than you did, abusing it repeatedly. Your walls clench desperately around his length, face falling beside his ear.
“Christ, don’t stop,” you beg. “Steve, please. Gonna cum.” Tears well in your eyes as your orgasm overtakes you, moaning a blend of curse words and Steve’s name like it's a prayer.
Underneath you, Steve felt like he was going insane. With your walls pulsing around him and the beautiful sounds coming from you, he was a goner. His arms pull you impossibly close, fucking up into you with everything he has left.
“Darling, ‘m sorry,” a sweet kiss lands on your chest. It was greedy of him, using your cunt until you’re overstimulated, but he couldn’t help himself. “I’m sorry. I’m so close.”
“C’mon, Steve, use me. Want your cum inside me,” you quietly purr into his ear, nibbling his neck.
Steve let out a low sound, a mix between a groan and whimper. He shifts his hand to your hair, gently moving your head to kiss you properly. Desperation motivates his movements, the kiss falling sloppy as his nose presses into your cheek, slipping into pleasure. His mouth hung open. “Fuck, sweetheart.”
His cock twitches inside of your cunt, cum coating every last inch.
“There you go, my cowboy,” you praise in the shell of his ear. Steve hums and chuckles lowly.
“Mmh, don’t say that to me.” Steve’s eyes shut tightly, the nickname causing his heart to flutter. “Y’make a good student.”
“Good students finish their tests. ‘M not done until the dismount, isn't that what you told me?”
“Can’t seem to remember myself sayin’ that,'' his arms draw you close, making sure you can’t even think to get off of him. Steve’s fingers trace gentle lines across your back as your digits card through his damp strands. “Stay right here darlin’, let time pass.”
thinking about steve fucking you relentlessly. fat cock pounding you deep into the mattress that you forget to breathe. biceps trapping either sides of you and his sweaty chest pressing into your back. traces of his happy trail tickling your skin.. and it’s so overwhelming!! and oh god!!! you can’t even think!!! more often than not, steve has to catch your attention and remind you to breathe. lips pressed to your ear, kissing just at your hairline!!!
vaporwave
andulkaphoto
2087
prguitarman
