Wreck My Plans
Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
Summary: Steve is full of self doubt over proposing to you, and you’re happy to remind him that you want to be his forever.
WC: 3.9k
Warnings & What to Expect: 18+ mdni, explicit language and smut (morning sex, brief hand job, unprotected p in v, creampie, breeding kink, porn with plot!), talks of Steve’s previous relationship insecurities, negative self talk, mentions of marriage and wanting kids, Steve just wants to marry you okay!!!
Peach's (Jenn's) Note: based off this request! hoping you enjoy lovie 🫶🏻 Also, trying this new layout for future fics!
Steve Harrington had a habit of calling you gorgeous.
After a blissful year of dating, it rolled naturally off his tongue when he was singing your praises.
Like when you were pinned underneath him - skin coated with sweat from the way your hips were rolling against his, and he would whimper by the shell of your ear, “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous like this.”
Or when he’d pull his truck into your driveway to pick you up for a night out, he would greet you at your door - eyes ravishing over your body, hand slithering around your lower back as he grinned, “I’m so lucky, gorgeous.”
And you loved the way it spilled softly from his lips when he would see you after a long day of work - planting a sweet kiss on your forehead and murmuring, “God, it’s good to see you, gorgeous.”
Steve was also a man who had a habit of knowing what he wanted.
It’s why when your lips grazed his cheek in a bashful kiss the night of your first date, he swore he was going to marry you someday.
Which is why it’s no surprise that by the first month in, he was looking at rings.
He didn’t mention it to you because he didn’t want to scare of you off too early in the relationship, but you were undoubtedly like a ray of gold shining down on his life - one that was once full of chaos and inconsistency, and you grounded him in such a way that he would be a fool to let you go - swore to himself that he would do anything for you if it meant you wanted him to stay.
By the second month, he would examine the ring finger on your left hand - passing it off as playing with your fingers idly, thinking about how it would look much more complete with a rock taking up space there.
He was urgently trying to figure out your ring size without being too obvious, and once his mission succeeded, he wasted no time in purchasing the little object that would tie him to you forever.
But Steve’s worst habit was thinking he wasn’t good enough.
He couldn’t fathom why you wanted to keep seeing him. He sometimes felt like a washed up version of his old self, though you never let him feel ashamed for the scars that littered his body. Instead, you showered him in reverence, mouthing gently along the puckered skin before moving to the swell of his tummy.
Steve knew you loved him, and yet, he couldn’t stop himself from self sabotaging - which is exactly what he did the night he planned to propose.
The chatter of the patrons was echoing throughout the room, the lilt of a piano serving as a background to bounce off of, but Steve could only focus on the way your lips were moving rapidly - venting about your latest project at work.
The soft glow of the dim restaurant lighting was bathing your skin in a luminous hue, making Steve’s mouth go dry - an aching want spreading through him at the sight of you that was contradicting his tumultuous thoughts because while he was trying his best to pay attention to you, the ring was sitting heavily in his dress pants pocket - delusions wreaking havoc on him.
You’re not good enough to take care of her.
Why would she want to spend the rest of her life with you?
She’s going to see you’ve never been anyone’s first choice.
You don’t believe she’ll actually say yes, do you?
She’s going to leave you, just like everyone else does.
The nasty words were sending Steve spiraling, zoning out to the point where the blank look on his face was scaring you.
You were probably the most observant person Steve knew, which was why you could tell he was nervous about something.
You could see it in the way his hand was fiddling with the rim of his wine class, the way he pulled at his collar like it was suffocating him, the way his eyes darted away from yours whenever you tried to catch them with your own.
You gently kick his leg under the table, barely a tap to focus his attention, “Steve?”
“Hmm?” He hums absentmindedly.
“Are you listening to me?” You ask hesitantly, worry gnawing under your ribcage due to the unusually distracted behavior he was displaying.
Steve immediately recognizes the timid tone of your voice, and he hates himself for making you doubt him. He moves into autopilot mode, trying to play off the cruel words that’s hurtling around in his head - pretending like his heart wasn’t feeling like it was about to burst from the fear of rejection.
“Honestly? No. It’s not my fault you keep distracting me with how good you look, gorgeous,” he sends you a wicked grin, but you know him too well to be deceived.
The smile doesn’t quite come across the way it should - no pretty crinkling around the edges of his eyes, no shine behind the look of adoration he typically gives you.
It sends your hopes dwindling like paper disintegrating into ashes from flames, because you were expecting him to propose to you tonight.
You thought he had spent the whole week dropping hints.
Telling you he was treating you to someplace nice, encouraging you to wear your favorite dress.
He also stopped by your parents place earlier in the week - claiming he had to drop off your Dad’s sports jacket he borrowed, but you could’ve sworn the edgy look behind his eyes meant that he would be asking for permission to marry you.
But beggars can’t be choosers, and you were silently pleading for him to make you his permanently.
Steve’s plan didn’t go the way he intended it to - backing out at the last minute because of the self doubt that was swirling around in his mind.
Panic was consuming him, pricking at his seams like sharp daggers, taunting him with the idea that you wouldn’t stick around much longer - like every other God forsaken relationship he’d been in.
It’s why the jewelry box was now shoved in the nightstand drawer, why the tension felt palpable when you curled up next to him in bed last night, why Steve struggled to drift off into a fitful slumber as his thoughts tormented him.
You wake up to the sun filtering in through the blinds - scattering in bright flecks across the bed, landing on Steve’s naked back. He was on his stomach, one arm tucked under his pillow while the other was loosely resting on your waist. Gentle puffs of air were escaping his slightly pursed lips, and even in his sleep he had a divot forming between his brows from whatever was plaguing him.
You were still disappointed from the evening before, and a little frustrated at him for not committing, but you were more anxious to soothe whatever it was that was bugging him.
The pang to ease his troubles spurs you on to try to comfort him - tilting your head up to brush your lips under his jaw in featherlight presses. You continue to kiss lovingly along the length of his jawbone, trailing down the expanse of his neck while moving your hand to splay across the warmth of his back.
Steve makes a quiet noise of content, caught between that fragile moment of consciousness and his dreams. You move to his shoulderblade, dusting kisses along the moles and freckles that line the delicate skin there.
“Morning, gorgeous,” he rasps, voice gravelly from just waking up.
His eyelids flutter open, lashes sticking slightly together from the depths of sleep. He lets out a sleepy groan as he rolls onto his back, forcing your hand to slip over the planes of his stomach.
“Hi, Stevie,” you whisper, taking advantage of the new position and letting your palm lower to rest under his navel.
He makes a strangled sound, becoming much more alert to your advances.
“What are you thinking, pretty girl?” He muses, hand reaching out to brush tenderly along your cheekbone.
“I wanna take care of you,” you murmur, hand teasing along his happy trail, fingers playing with the hair that leads to the part of him that only you get to see.
It makes you possessive, wanting to prove to him that whatever’s corrupting his mind will dwindle once you’ve got your hands on him.
Those plush lips of his pull up in a smirk, “Go for it, gorgeous.”
The remains of his negative contemplations from the prior evening fades, quickly becoming enamored with the way you palm at the growing bulge that’s hidden behind the confines of his boxer briefs.
You hitch a leg up and over his hips, hauling yourself on top of him - firmly settling against his hardening length. A breathy sigh is pulled from you when his hands grasp your waist, drawing you closer to him - providing a maddening friction that has your brain reeling in desire.
You work yourself over him in unhurried glides that have your panties growing wet from the pooling arousal in your gut.
Meanwhile, Steve is a work of art underneath you.
His hair is messy, disheveled from the shower he took last night. You push the silky tendrils off his forehead, carding it behind his ears to get a better look at the way his face contorts in pleasure.
His lips part as he lets out a string of curses at your rotating hips, working yourself in tandem with his subtle thrusts. You become too desperate to worry about fully undressing him, pushing yourself slightly back to tug at his underwear - barely shimmying the fabric down, so it settles snugly under the curve of his ass.
“Fuck,” he hisses at the sudden exposure of cool air hitting his throbbing cock.
The sight of him laid bare before you has your mouth watering, saliva gathering heatedly as your eyes trace over him. The ruddy tip is swollen from the lack of relief, and the prominent vein that runs down his shaft is practically begging you to drag your tongue along the length of it.
Steve watches, slack jawed, as you cup your hand, letting the spit that was puddling in your mouth dribble out and into your waiting palm. His throat bobs in wonder at the action, kicking himself for not popping the question the night before.
You firmly grab his cock, thumb swiping over the weeping head - letting the fluid in your hand coat him while caressing the velvety skin.
“Shit, that feels good, gorgeous,” he groans when you twist your hand nimbly down to the base. You watch delightedly as his eyes glaze over - lost in the coiling tension of lust building in his abdomen.
“I love you, Stevie,” you let yourself lean forward, propping yourself up on an elbow and resting your forehead against his as your hand continues to stroke him.
Those three words tumble from his lips as he twitches in your hand, precum steadily leaking from his tip - cascading down and mixing in with the slick that’s already drenching him.
Your hand starts pumping on its own accord, languidly moving up and down his shaft - fizzling with need as he tremors beneath you. You let your hand delve lower, fondling over his balls, and a particularly loud moan is ripped from the back of his throat.
“Fuck, if you don’t stop now, I’m gonna come,” he pants, eyes rolling back in his head.
Laughter bubbles up out of you, “That’s the point, babe.”
He grunts as you rotate your hand on the upstroke, “Would much rather come in that pretty pussy of yours.”
You whimper at the crude words, actions stalling as the dizzying haze of temptation devours you.
A sly smile graces his lips, “Yeah, gorgeous? You want me to come inside of you?”
“God, yes,” you cry, wriggling out of your sleep shorts and eagerly shoving your panties to the side.
Steve send you a sly smile, and you already know the filthy words about to escape him, “Want me to breed you, baby? Fill you up until I’m leaking out of you?”
You let out a needy hum of approval, head nodding eagerly as words fail you - feeling like every fiber within you is about to combust from the intoxication of his presence.
“Go on then, gorgeous. Take what you need from me,” he murmurs, hands skimming along the backs of your thighs.
You hover over him, shifting yourself down until he slips between your folds. You rock against him, keening in ecstasy when his tip nudges your clit with each slow grind of your hips.
A guttural groan leaves Steve’s mouth when he glances down to where your cunt slides across his hard member. When the head of his cock brushes against your entrance, you slowly let yourself sink down onto him - savoring each inch of him until he finally bottoms out, filling you up to the hilt.
“Look at you,” he coos, “doing so good for me.”
“Steve,” you mewl, overwhelmed at the feeling of being stuffed full of him.
“I know, gorgeous. You can take it,” he murmurs, hands gripping tightly onto your hips.
You’re reminded that you wanted to be the one in charge, slipping your hands over his - maneuvering them to link together before pushing his arms back, pressing them down into the soft bedding below you.
Your walls clench around him as your hips sway steadily against his, relishing in the delicious drag of his cock nestled inside of your sobbing pussy.
The pace picks up, finding a rhythm that has you careening towards your high. Steve’s fingers that are threaded with your own tense up as he mumbles little exalts of how good your gummy heat feels fluttering around him.
Your hips stutter, and Steve gives your hands a gentle squeeze of encouragement to continue.
“You need help, baby?” He mumbles the question with a hint of a teasing tone.
You shake your head stubbornly, and obscene sounds of skin on skin fill the confines of the bedroom when your hips move in a way that has the angle deepening. You nearly collapse against him as it forces him to drive further inside of you.
But it suddenly becomes too much, and your breath turns ragged as your legs give out - knees sinking harshly into the mattress on either side of him. Your jaw drops as the motion allows his pulsing cock to sheath fully to the brim - feeling him everywhere at once.
You exhale sharply through your nose, “Fuck, it’s too much, Steve.”
Steve untangles his fingers from yours, slipping his hands up under your sleep shirt and pressing firmly against your lower belly. He greedily puts pressure there, trying to force you to feel every part of him that's buried within you.
“That too much too, baby?” He taunts, giving you a mocking pout.
“Oh, God,” you yelp, squirming at the irresistible feeling.
“What’s wrong, gorgeous? Need me to do the work for you?” He asks, playfully pinching at your hips.
“Please,” you beg, tears filling your lash line at the sensation dominating your body.
You can feel the strain of your muscles, the shared sticky liquids clinging deliciously to your inner thighs, the way Steve’s not even moving, yet he’s somehow deep enough to hit that sweet spot inside of you.
He catches a tear that escapes you with his index finger, “You're so pretty when you’re crying on my cock, baby.”
His hands scramble for purchase around you, drawing you to him before rolling you onto your side. He hooks an arm under the back of your knee to keep one of your legs wound around his waist. He takes advantage of your dazed state to capture your lips with his - hand snaking up to hold to the base of your head, keeping you grounded in his strong hold as his thumb glides affectionately along your jaw.
“Just needed me to take care of you, huh?” He breathes against your mouth, pulling his hips back and snapping them forward with enough force to jolt your body closer to the headboard.
The lewd squelching that’s coming from your connected bodies makes Steve’s thrusts turn frantic. Your head falls back against the pillow at the feeling of his feverish pace, and Steve’s lips immediately mouth hotly against your exposed neck.
His hips continue their movement, each purposeful slide of him has that familiar band ready to snap, and your walls contract around him each time he’s fully seated with his hips flush to yours.
“I’m gonna come,” you huff, nose nudging his own in warning.
“I’ve got you, gorgeous. Let go,” he murmurs, dotting kisses from the corner of your mouth to your chin, bringing his fingers down between the two of you to rub quick circles against your clit.
Your mouth opens in a silent cry, hips cantering, rutting instinctively as you near your peak.
“Fuck, there you go baby,” he grunts at the feeling of your orgasm flooding him, aftershocks causing your body to writhe in pleasure as Steve continues to pump into you - solely to chase his own high now that you’ve reached yours.
He’s a vision when he’s coming undone, eyes squeezed closed with his brows furrowed in euphoria as he spills inside of you - thick ropes of his cum painting the walls of your used cunt, pulsating through the come down.
His forehead rests against yours as he catches his breath, skin covered in a glistening shine while his spent cock softens inside of you. You wince slightly from the loss of contact when he pulls out, feeling empty without him splitting you open.
Steve always grows exceptionally affectionate with you after being intimate, and once he slides the band of his boxers back up, he then takes a moment to carefully pull your panties back that have been pulled taut against you skin.
He draws lazy circles against the soft flesh of your thigh, before bringing a hand up to your racing heart.
“I love you,” he mumbles wistfully, slotting his lips with yours.
An appeased sigh leaves you, tracing the seam of his lips, which he parts open eagerly for you to dip your tongue into his mouth.
Your head tilts, hand coming up to comb through his hair as you kiss him deeply - silently communicating your own admiration for him that feels so tangible sometimes you wonder who you’d be if he wasn’t yours to love.
The emotion you suddenly feel for him almost has the words tumbling out of you without permission.
“I want,” you trail off, growing shy under the intense gaze he’s giving you.
Steve tucks his thumb and pointer finger under your jaw, inclining your chin up to look at him.
“What do you want, baby?” He encourages, palm delicately cupping your cheek.
You shake your head, “It’s nothing, really.”
“I’m a patient man, gorgeous. You know that,” he gives a playful pat to your ass to encourage you.
Those doe eyes of his bore into yours, looking at you in such awe that it has you caving to your admission.
“I wanna marry you,” you blurt, fingers fidgeting with the thatch of hair on his chest.
Steve’s eyes grow wide, shell shocked by the confession.
“I thought maybe,” you swallow harshly, pausing briefly, “I thought that you were going to propose to me last night. I don’t know, maybe that’s stupid.”
The revelation has Steve’s head spinning, horrified at himself for letting you think there was even a second where he didn’t want to marry you.
“Oh, gorgeous, that’s not stupid,” he reassures you, twisting his back around to lean over and fumble around in the nightstand.
“It’s okay Steve, really. I don’t want to pressure you, and oh-,” your rambling cuts off when he turns back around, because it’s your turn to remain silent - caught off guard by the small black box in his hands.
He opens the case, and the exquisite ring that’s snuggled into the lining is the most beautiful piece of jewelry you’ve ever seen in your life - perfectly made to fit you, reflecting the way Steve knows exactly what you need.
“I was going to propose to you last night,” he mumbles, a slight flush of embarrassment crawling up his neck.
The sinking feeling that was creeping over you intensifies, “So, you changed your mind?”
You spoke the words shamefully, hurt encapsulating your tone.
Steve’s mouth flounders in disbelief at the accusation, “No! God, no, baby.”
“But, you didn’t ask me,” you can feel the threat of tears building as your throat constricts in agony.
“Because I’m an idiot,” he grits out in aggravation, knuckles rubbing angrily at his eyes.
“Steve,” you chide, running a hand along the length of his side - hating when he starts to self deprecate.
“It’s just,” he cuts himself off, playing with the box in his hands.
Your fingers drift up to his collarbone, “Just what, Stevie?”
The fond nickname allows him to gain some confidence back, remembering that it’s you - the girl of his dreams, still in his arms despite the fact that he’s upset you.
“I could never change my mind about wanting you. I guess I just started thinking about how everyone else that I thought I could see a future with,” he stops, closing his eyes at the painful memories.
“Broke your heart?” You supply tentatively.
He lets out a broken laugh, “Yeah. Stomped all over it. And God, gorgeous, I do trust you with it. It’s been yours from the moment I met you. But I just can’t help but think if you say yes, you’ll realize someday that you could've done better.”
You’re left speechless for a fraction of a second, stunned by the fragmented words he shares - growing protective over the splintered pieces of him that've been left behind by people he once believed would love him.
“Steve, if you’ll let me, I’m gonna be so careful with the scars left on your heart,” you promise, leaning forward to press a kiss to the spot where it’s tucked behind his sternum.
He lets out a breath that’s torn between a cry and a laugh, slipping his arms around you and pulling you to lay across his chest.
“God, I fucking love you,” he utters lowly, eyes dancing over the lovesick expression on your face.
You release a shaky breath, “Ask me, please.”
“Will you marry me, gorgeous?” He whispers, pulling the delicate ring out, twirling it in his fingers so it catches in the morning light.
“I’d love to marry you, Steve Harrington,” you smile, giving him your hand to let him slip the cool metal band on.
You wrap your arms around his neck, molding your body to his as he ravishes you with giddy kisses - making you giggle from the ticklish attack along your sensitive skin.
"I, love, you,” he emphasizes with each press of his lips in between words.
You echo the sentiment, humming in content when he kisses the spot below your ear.
“Can’t wait to marry you,” he mouths along your jaw, nipping lovingly until he’s made his way to your lips.
He hovers over them, barely letting them brush yours as he says, “You’re gonna look so gorgeous carrying our babies.”
His palm splays out along your tummy at the thought, and when you feel his cock growing hard again against your thigh, you let your hand skim over the material that covers him teasingly.
“I think celebratory sex is in order,” you bite your lip coyly.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he beams, gracing you with that smile that has you captivated by him.
Steve lavishes your body, silently worshipping you for letting him be yours, and if it takes an eternity to assure him that you’d follow him anywhere, let him wreck all your plans, make him know that he was your man for what you hoped would be a lifetime - then so be it.
cough @pr33tygirlavenue cough…. did someone say Steve’s breeding kink??? 🤭 thanks for putting that thought in my brain while working on this. love you.
Yes, some lines were inspired by this glorious song 🙂↕️⬆️
Divider credits to @cafekitsune
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