mean!steve harrington x fem!reader
(18+; MDNI; 2.3k words)
Your asshole coworker is in a bad mood.
Maybe you can help.
cw: mean!steve, reader being mean back, blowjobs, face fucking, dacryphilia, maybe degradation if you squint, cumming in mouth, making out
-> big big thank you to jess and kelsey for offering suggestions/proofreading, to blaize for the advice, maddie for offering to proofread before we got sidetracked, and everyone else who was supportive as i kept yelling "what the fuck do i know about writing mean steve" <3 art is a collaborative process and this work has truly been a collaborative piece
masterlist || divider by @/saradika-graphics || ao3 link
By the time you stumble your way through the doors of the station — twenty minutes late, scarf tangled around your neck and coat slipping from your shoulders — you think that the worst part of your day is over. Even if your car stalled out several times on the drive to work, even if you somehow hit every red light in Hawkins, even if the military randomly closed a road that forced you to detour, you managed to make it to the Squawk in one piece.
And then you see Robin in the booth, cringing as Steve inaudibly rants about something, and you freeze. You know that look, and when she meets your eye through the glass and slowly shakes her head, your stomach drops completely.
Bad day, she mouths.
Which, honestly, could mean a myriad of things when it comes to Steve Harrington.
The humidity was too high? He was annoyed. The Colts didn’t win a game? He was sulking. The universe didn’t align to his every whim and need? He was pissed and he was going to make it everyone else’s problem.
And tonight, this was your issue, because you were scheduled to work the closing shift with Steve.
Great.
Robin says something to him that you don’t hear before slipping out of the booth, scurrying over to where you’re hanging your belongings up on the coatrack and hurriedly whispers, “He was up all night trying to find Dustin again, got no sleep. Rare form today.”
“I don’t understand how you’re friends with him,” you whisper back, letting your purse fall to the ground. “He’s an asshole, Rob.”
She makes a face, tilting her hand back and forth in the air as if to say, well…
“Steve’s a good guy when you get to know him,” she settles on saying. “Anyway, I have to run or I’ll miss my date. Have fun, be nice, and don’t kill each other, alright?”
“No promises,” you mutter, and Robin laughs as she skips out the door.
Steve is, if possible, even more irate when you slip into the booth, avoiding eye contact and gunning for the chair, hoping to keep conversation to the minimum for the next six hours.
He, on the other hand, has no such desire.
“Do you not know how to show up to work on time?” he huffs out. “Seriously, a couple of minutes is one thing, but half an hour—”
“And spend more time with your sparkling personality than I have to?” you snap without looking at him. “I think not. Besides, it’s not as though I suddenly have control over what the hell the military is doing.”
“It’s called planning,” he snarks.
You breathe in, once, sharply, and bite your tongue.
But Steve isn’t content to simply drop it, the way he’s never been content to drop it. And honestly, you don’t pretend to understand the intricacies of his life; You understand that he looks out for a bunch of kids, that one of them is in a coma, that another one is going off the deep end and taking all of his grief out on Steve. And at one point in time, that would’ve been more than enough for you to give him your deepest sympathies, to extend a level of grace only given to the most extreme of cases.
Except—
Then you’d met Steve, and he’d taken one look at you, wrinkled his nose, and asked Robin, “Did we really need to hire someone else?”
Your relationship hadn’t been anything better than adversarial ever since.
“—could take your job a little more seriously,” he continues to rant. “It’s not exactly like we’re flush with cash around here, and it’s not like there’s a shortage of people looking for jobs—”
The chair you’re sitting in scrapes against the floor as you stand abruptly, whirling around to find Steve standing entirely too close.
You see red, demanding, “God, what will it take for you to just shut up?”
Steve grins. “You could suck my dick.”
There’s a moment where the two of you are left standing there, chest to chest, nose to nose, and you can see the dare in his eyes. The tension in his shoulders, the set of his jaw. The fact that he doesn’t actually mean it, but he wants to push your buttons, to get you to react more than you ever have before.
He doesn’t have any intentions on you calling his bluff, and you’re determined to not lose this game.
“Fine,” you say sweetly. You move past him, snagging his wrist as you do. “But not in here. I don’t think Robin would be too happy if she found out.”
For the first time tonight, Steve doesn’t have a response. He doesn’t even fight you as you drag him along to a nearby closet, yanking the door open, shoving him in, and slamming it shut behind you. The room is plunged into darkness and you feel your way over to him, your fingers grazing the soft material of his sweatshirt.
His hands find your waist, skimming up your sides until his palms are pressed into your cheeks, his breath hot on your lips, but before he can get any bright ideas, you say, “I said I’d suck your dick, not make out with you.”
You can practically feel his frown as he shifts his hands back, tangling them with your hair.
“Fine,” he says shortly. “Then do it.”
That’s all the warning you get before you’re pushed to your knees.
You don’t waste any time reaching for his belt, undoing it with shaky hands as he continues to run his fingers through your hair, tugging at the roots the smallest amount when you pull his jeans and boxers down just enough to take him in hand.
A gasp gets caught in your throat when, even half hard, your thumb and pointer finger barely meet.
He lets out a throaty laugh. “Find something you like?”
“Fuck you.”
His fingers tighten in your hair. “Do you ever shut up? God.”
And as his thumb traces a path down your jaw, stopping just as it reaches your lips, you spit out, “Make me.”
His grip on your chin tightens as his thumb dips between your teeth, pressing down on your tongue and drawing your mouth open. Spit pools as you give him a few rough pumps, the tip of his cock jutting against your chin. He drops his other hand, then, placing it over yours as he taps the tip against your lips.
“Not so mouthy now, are you?” he says, pulling his thumb back and guiding himself in.
The heady taste of precome spreads across your tastebuds as he sinks into your mouth, his cock sliding over your tongue as you take him deeper. He lets out a low grunt, and for a moment, you wish that you’d had the foresight to turn the light on so you could see the face he’s making as he hits the back of your throat.
You gag and he lets out a quiet whimper as you pull back, instinctively looking up and wishing that he could see you as well. But even just hearing the sounds he’s making — you can imagine the wrecked look on his face, the flush spreading across his cheeks, and it’s enough to have arousal coursing through your own body.
(Because even though he acts like he has the power in this situation, you both know well enough that you’re the one wielding the proverbial blade.)
He guides you back down, muttering a curse when you take him just a little bit deeper, swallowing down your gag reflex as your hand twists around the base of his cock.
And for all of the hell you gave him over everything, you find that you don’t quite mind letting him set the pace. There’s something intoxicating about the precome spilling onto your tongue as you hollow your cheeks, smiling when he moans, and all at once, he grips you by the roots of your hair and thrusts in.
“You can take it,” he grunts. “Fucking know you can. Always mouthing off, always getting in my business — well you’re all quiet now, yeah?”
Despite yourself, you nod, your hands sliding down to hold his thighs as he fucks your face, tears welling int he corners of your eyes. It should be humiliating to let yourself be used like this, to let your asshole coworker treat your body like an object for his own pleasure, but it’s hard to feel embarrassed when all of this is turning you on as well.
One tear slips down your cheek, and then two, and in a move that’ll no doubt have you reeling for weeks, his hand finds its way to your face, his thumb gently wiping away the wetness gathered there, even as he continues to use your mouth for his own pleasure.
“Just like that,” he says, voice dropping. “You like this, don’t you?”
You hum around his cock, wrapping your arm around his leg to pull him in even closer, to take him even deeper. He swears loudly when the tip of your nose brushes against his bush, and you only manage to hold him there for a few seconds before you’re forced to release, dizzy as you gasp for air.
You sit there, panting, and before Steve can even move, you pull him back closer, desperate to take him even deeper — to take him all the way — to have the exhilarating feeling of choking on his cock pull you further into the depravity you’ve found yourself in. He makes a noise of surprise when you repeat the motion, your nose pressing into his pelvis as he mutters fuck fuck fuck, and you whine when he pulls you off.
“You wanna choke on it that bad, huh?” he asks, condescending and sweet at the same time. “Wanna cry some more for me?”
“Fuck you,” you say, already reaching for his cock again.
But he doesn’t let you.
One hand grips your hair even tighter as he tilts your head back while the other slaps the tip of his cock against your lips, saying, “Open up for me. Gonna see what that bratty mouth of yours can do, yeah? Gonna make me feel good?”
He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, though, before he bullies his way in, setting a brutal pace as he thrusts in and out of your mouth. More tears spill down your cheeks at the pressure, but there’s no part of you that can deny how good it feels either. To be used without care, to have someone’s aggression taken out on you. Your clit throbs at the thought of doing something more, of seeing what else he can do when he’s as pent up as he has been for months.
He laughs when you gag. “Who knew that all I had to do to get you to be a little nicer to me was use your mouth?”
You pinch his thigh in retaliation — you’ve been perfectly nice, thank you very much — and in response, he presses even further down your throat.
“Gonna let me come in your mouth?” His voice comes out a little more ragged, a little more choppy as his hips stutter.
You nod (as much as you can, anyway, with his thick length prying your jaw apart) and he makes a contented sound, smoothing your hair away from your face in a way that’s entirely at odds with how roughly he’s using your mouth.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “Thought so.”
His hand curls into your hair as he presses his front against your face, your nose grinding into it. You squeeze your eyes closed as the head of his cock nears the back of your throat, and then you feel it — the way he fills your mouth and throat, his come flooding it as he finishes deep within you. He pulls back and the last few spurts land on your tongue, mix with the rest already dripping down your throat, and your tongue presses against the underside of his length as you swallow.
You sit there for a moment, the only sound being made is that of your panting, before he pulls you up suddenly, fingers digging into your forearms, his lips crashing into yours. A startled noise escapes you as he presses you back into the wall, hands scrabbling for stability, and in the next moment, he finds the pull chain and the small closet is finally filled with light as he pulls back, his eyes dancing across your face.
“Fuck,” he gasps out, as though he has a reason to be out of breath. “Fuck.”
You open your mouth to retort, to say something, but he only pulls you back in for another kiss, his nose crushing painfully into your cheek and his tongue swiping against your bottom lip.
You let him in.
Steve, it seems, has no issue in tasting his own come in your mouth, eager and willing to explore every corner as you sink further into his hold, your own arms coming around to wrap around his neck. You feel him smile against you, and you can’t stop your own giggles from spilling out when he runs his tongue along the roof of your mouth.
And finally, finally, you pull away, chest heaving as you search his face, his brown eyes gazing at you with something more than thinly veiled annoyance for the first time, and a decision is made before you can think it through.
“If you need some stress relief again,” you say, grinning. “Let me know. Might be able to help.”
He huffs out a laugh, dropping his head against your shoulder.
“And next time I’m having a bad day…” You pry his arms from you and slip past him, cracking open the door just the tiniest amount. You glance over your shoulder to find him staring at you in open surprise. “I know who to call.”
A smirk spreads across his face just as you let the door swing shut behind you.
stayed at a hotel solo for the first time outside of a work thing
saw 5sos for the 4th time
had a massive gut punch of feels for ashton again
have the worst post-concert depression
went back to god damn work thurs/fri like an out of body experience happened to me bc what do you mean i was i seeing 5sos tuesday night and now I'm back to this life?!
have been coping by watching love island australia again and considering future partners again
have discovered platonic!stobin x reader at the perfect time considering it is pride month
also can we talk about 5sos saying the gays deserve free concert tickets?!
and can we talk about seeing michael clifford sing enough live and making me cry while also managing to be so fucking hot and always get me riled up by screaming "louder" and/or doing his little screamo gravely voice in jet black heart
and in general crying because these 4 aussies have never failed to remind me of my worth for 15 years and I will always love them 🥹
oh yes it is lol and i LOVE IT!! i need to know what happens after robin’s freak out
oh god... ANGST WARNING? @snoopyracing and i got sidetracked after this i'm sorry </3 ugh if u have any more thots tho let me or maddie know..... i fear pen is being put to paper
okay so... gonna put this under a cut cause it's actually like pretty nsfw lmao (obligatory @snoopyracing tag and also like sort of mean!steve? dom!steve warning????? idk man if youre following along u know what ur getting into)
What are you working on for the Stobin x Reader fic? I’m obsessed with the snippets you’ve been posting!
platonic!stobin x fem!reader (18+, MDNI)
okay okay nobody judge me. @snoopyracing is the one who outlined it, i just woke up, saw it, and said "hold my beer." also incredibly unedited bc if i read through it again i will spontaneously combust
cw: degradation (but, like, loving?), d/s elements, oral (f receiving), tit play, rough sex, semi-public sex (in a bathroom at someone's house party), bi/queer!reader, one instance of pussy spanking, reader has pullable hair but that's the extent of the description, creampie
wc: 2k || divider by @/saradika-graphics || main masterlist
You don’t actually know the name of the guy you’re dancing with, just that he’s tall and mildly attractive and brought you a new drink when your cup ran dry. The bass from the speakers makes the floor vibrate as his hands settle on your hips, spinning you around as he leans in close to your ear, “You look very pretty tonight.”
You glance down at the outfit that Robin and Steve picked out — a flimsy skirt, an even flimsier top with thin straps that does nothing to hide your peaking nipples — and smile. Because even if Robin has long since disappeared and Steve was more interested in catching up with some guy he was on the basketball team with, at least someone appreciates how nice you look.
(And can you blame yourself? Neither Steve nor Robin told you that you looked pretty when they grabbed you from your apartment.)
“Thank you,” you say with a big smile, tracing your hand down the guy’s polo. “You look pretty nice yourself.”
He grins like you just said the funniest thing. “Yeah?”
“I mean, this color looks great on you,” you say, nodding emphatically. Tracing your palm down to his bicep, you add, “And, like, hugs you in all the right places.”
“Yeah, well,” the guy says, his hand on your waist coming up to just under your tit. “Can’t say that this top isn’t doing anything for me either.”
You hum appreciatively, casting your gaze across the crowd to see if Steve or Robin are paying attention. Because as much fun as it is flirting, you don’t actually want the guy’s hand cupping your tit through your shirt — not when Steve’s been tweaking your nipples all evening, even going so far as to pull you into a room for a minute to mouth at your breasts before sending you back out with the top clinging to your spit soaked chest. Not when there’s two people here who you’d much rather have playing with you.
But—
You don’t see them.
Steve’s not in the corner he was in just minutes prior, and Robin — well, you haven’t seen her in nearly an hour, anyway, but you’ve gone to enough of these parties to know that one of them is always keeping an eye on you.
(And not because they don’t trust you, but they’re not exactly stupid about the reality of sending you into a crowd wearing next to nothing.)
Your head swivels, the guy in front of you completely forgotten as you search for your friends, panic beginning to bubble in your alcohol soaked stomach, because you actually don’t want this guy to be flirting with you, not if you have the option for something better, not if—
“Hey, babe!”
You sag with relief when the sound of Robin’s voice precedes her lithe hand smoothing across your back, her fingers digging into your waist as she not-so-subtly pulls you from the guy.
“I was going to head to the bathroom real quick — walk with me?”
You glance up at Robin through your lashes and nod, not sparing the guy a backwards glance as she drags you through the party, parting the crowd like the Red Sea and manhandling you up the stairs.
A shiver runs up your spine when she leans in real close and whispers, “That was really stupid of you, babe.”
You stumble, barely catching yourself on the rail, and look back to see a heated expression in her eyes. “What was stupid?” you ask innocently.
Her fingers tightening on your waist is the only response you get.
She throws open a door to your left and shoves you in, and you’re entirely unsurprised to find Steve leaning against the wall of a bathroom with his arms crossed and a stern furrow to his brows, but you don’t even have time to pout (or worse, beg for forgiveness) before the door is slammed shut and Robin’s spinning you around, pushing you up onto the counter next to the sink as her lips press into yours.
You sink into the kiss immediately, intoxicated by the taste of her vanilla chapstick as you bring your hands up to her face, desperate to keep her there as long as possible. But because it’s Robin, she clearly has other plans, which are only made all the more evident when your legs are parted and the little skirt she’d pressed into your hands just hours prior get flipped up.
Steve makes a discontented sound when the cool air hits your bare pussy.
Robin pulls back, glancing down as she gathers your wetness on the tip of her fingers, letting out a harsh noise as she asks, “Can’t stop yourself from being a little slut, huh? Get some drinks in you and you’ll throw yourself at anything that gives you attention? Flirting with that asshole knowing that you didn’t have any panties on… and it made you so wet, huh, baby? Did it make you wet knowing that you were being a bad girl?”
You nod dumbly, suddenly dizzy with need when she circles your aching clit, and Steve winds his hand through your hair, tilting your head back to look at him when he demands, “Did we or did we not tell you to stop letting your dumb little pussy do the thinking for you?”
“You did,” you breathe out with a sigh, Robin’s fingers slipping inside your entrance.
“And did you listen?” Steve continues.
You shake your head, and his grip tightens — a warning, because you know he needs a verbal response — and you force out, “No, Steve. I didn’t listen.”
A nip on your thigh draws your attention down as Robin hovers close to your weeping pussy.
“Looks like you need another lesson,” she says, twisting her fingers until your hips are jerking off the counter, a whine spilling from your lips. “Since it didn’t stick the first time.”
You don’t have time to process her lowering her mouth to your clit before Steve’s yanking your stop down, letting your tits pour out into the cold air. His lips descend to one nipple — cruelly as his teeth scrape against the sensitive bud — as he pinches your other one between two big fingers, teasing and rolling and tugging like they aren’t already sore from his earlier ministrations. A choked moan is forced from your chest when he sucks your breast further into his mouth, pulling back and releasing it with a wet pop before doing the same to your other breast.
And Robin, clearly, isn’t happy that he’s distracting you from her when she flicks her tongue over your clit, and Steve has the foresight to slap a hand over your mouth before you’re too loud as a pathetic whine is pulled from your lungs. She sighs into your pussy, pressing down until her nose is nudging your clit, her tongue dipping inside and gathering the wetness there before pulling back, making a show of how much you’re gushing around her before diving back in with reckless abandon, not bothering to be quiet as she tongue fucks your sensitive pussy, rubbing your clit with a rough thumb in a way that you protest even if all three of you know that you love it when they’re mean to you.
Between that, and Robin’s mouth, and Steve sucking bruises into the sensitive skin of your breasts, it doesn’t take long for your orgasm to overwhelm you, coming out in muffled, choked cries as you shake and shake and shake against their combined hold, burying your face into Steve’s neck as Robin holds your core even tighter to your face, lapping up every last drop until your whines finally quiet.
With one last kiss given to your clit, she releases your pussy, her fingers coming up to spread your wetness across your cheek as she pulls you from Steve, standing up to hungrily press her mouth to yours, her tongue entering as you gasp. The taste of yourself on her lips is intoxicating and she’s not shy about making sure you get the full experience, teasing her tongue against yours until you’ve swallowed every last drop, tears springing in the corner of your eyes when she pulls away.
You whine, chasing her lips, greedy with the need for more, but she only delivers one, quick, harsh slap to your pussy — smiling when you jolt — before stepping away, asking, “Did you think I was going to be the only one punishing you?”
“What?” you ask, dizzy and dumb from your orgasm.
She doesn’t answer, though, and the next thing you know, Steve’s strong hands are pulling you from the counter and spinning you around, smoothing up your spine until you’re bent over. Your mouth drops open in a silent oh as he pushes your skirt up, and your legs clench together at the sound of his belt coming undone.
“Steve,” you whine, blinking your wet lashes up at him through the mirror. “Please.”
“Please what, baby?” he coos, nudging your ankles further apart.“What do you want?”
“Sensitive,” you say, shuddering when he drags the fat tip of his cock through your folds. “’s too much.”
The two of you know that’s a lie, and Robin snickers from her place against the wall.
“It’s too much?” he repeats, mocking. His blunt head breaches your opening and you let out a loud moan. “Well, it wouldn’t be a punishment if it weren’t too much, baby. Now be a good girl and let me use your tight pussy.”
He slams all the way in with one, quick thrust, and you let out a loud sob as the pleasure begins to build, feeling so, sofucked out already, every coherent thought slipping from your head as you grip the counter at the brutal pace he sets.
You press your forehead against the cold formica, spit dribbling from your mouth as quiet, oh, oh, oh’s leave your lips, but Steve clearly isn’t pleased with this outcome. He fists your hair and pulls you up until your chest is pushed out, wrapping a thick arm around your neck to keep you in place as he grunts out, “Look at how wrecked you are already, baby. Look at how well you’re taking my cock, how your pussy was made for me. Watch how I punish my dirty little slut.”
“Please,” you moan, fucked out and incoherent as he continues to thrust up into you, his hips slapping against your ass.
“You like that?” he gasps, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “You like it when I use you like this?”
You nod, and his arm tightens on your neck.
“Words,” he reminds you.
“Love it,” you gasp out. “Don’t stop, please.”
He huffs out a laugh, and you completely lose yourself in the rhythm of his thrusts, pleasure washing you away as he bullies his cock in and out of you. At one point, his other hand drops down to your core, two fingers running tight circles over your clit and you squeal, jerking in his grasp but he only holds you tighter, practically lifting you from the ground to keep his pace.
“You gonna take it?” he grunts, hooking a hand under your knee and pulling it up. “You gonna let me come in your pussy? Feel me dripping out on our way home?”
A choked whine leaves you as you nod, crying, “Please, please. Need it, Steve.”
“Need what?”
“Need your cum,” you moan, head tilting back onto his shoulder. “Need you to cum in me.”
He grins at you in the mirror and pulls you into a rough kiss, his hips stuttering, warmth spilling inside as he cums, and he gives a few, weak thrusts before he pulls out entirely. You can already feel him dripping out as you sag against his hold, fucked and worn out but feeling so, so good.
Robin’s the first one to move, coming around to your front and righting your shirt with gentle hands, stroking her hand across your face when she asks, “You alright?”
You nod, humming, your eyes slipping closed.
Steve’s chest rumbles with silent laughter.
Together, the two of them fix your clothes and smooth down your hair, Steve throwing his jacket over your shoulders and zipping it up, Robin’s hand soft in yours as she guides you down the stairs, your thighs wet from Steve’s release as they usher you into the backseat of the Beamer.
And you know, drifting off with your head in Robin’s lap, that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.
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