hello! i’m anna and this is my side blog for all things stranger things/maya hawke/joe keery!! i follow back on my main which is @joanne-woodwards, i also write which i havent done in quite a few months but i want to start it again. i looove writing for steve and i’m also open to requests! this is a remake of an old blog i had years ago and then accidentally deleted (rip sweet blog). i also have an oc named heather reynolds, if you’d like to read her bio its here. i plan on posting any rambles, fics, headcanon, etc with her and steve. i’ll also write steve x reader fics so really you guys can request whatever!! anyways, i guess that’s everything i’m just hoping to meet good moots and write steve fanfics lol
for the summer prompts, 1 flowers, gator and baker reader pls ! 💐💐💐💐💐
your wish is my command <3
prompt #1. flowers
pairing: shy!baker!reader x gator; kind of casually dating?
word count: 744
"Hey, hot stuff, your boyfriend's lookin' for ya."
Your eyes dart to Janice, the sweet, elderly, nosey woman who owns the bakery you work at. She's currently standing in the doorway, her hand on her hip with an expectant look on her face, as if to say what are you waiting for?
"He's not my boyfriend," you mutter, grabbing a bench scraper to fold your brioche dough into a ball. You then dump it into the stand mixer, click it on, and set the kitchen timer before sliding it into the front pocket of your apron.
"That why you're droppin' everything to go talk to him?"
"Janice," you warn, walking over to the sink to wash your hands. You know your tone is anything but threatening — you couldn't, even if you tried, especially with the woman who basically doubled as your mom — but you found talking about your love life to be incredibly uncomfortable.
"Should I send him back here or are you goin' out front?" she asks, ignoring your thinly veiled advisory.
"I'll just take my break now," you reply. Janice nods, a smirk on her lips as you brush past her, but not before she squeezes your arm comfortingly. You can't help it as you swallow nervously, nibbling on your bottom lip as you walk out front, finding none other than Gator Tillman standing there, his hands behind his back.
His eyes immediately brighten when he sees you, and you try not to let your entire body melt.
"Hey, kid," Gator greets, using the nickname that, for some reason, always makes you warm beneath his gaze. You smile despite the butterflies flapping anxiously in your stomach. "Sorry if it's a bad time. Just wanted to drop by 'fore I head in for my shift at the station."
You shake your head, "No, no, now's good. I'm taking my break."
Gator grins. "For lil' old me?"
He reaches out to wrap an arm around your shoulders and your mouth dries, especially when he presses a kiss to your temple. Your relationship — could you even call it that yet? — hasn't been filled with the most PDA, solely because it's something that you're not experienced with. Moments like these, when it's just you and Gator (and Janice, probably, watching from the back), feel less high-stakes and more comfortable.
"C'mon, can I take y'for a walk? Got something for you in my car."
"As long as that's not some line just to makeout with me," you tease softly, making Gator laugh loudly. You've been coming out of your shell more every time you see each other, and he loves the side of you that rags on him.
"I'd never use a line for that, kid," Gator replies, keeping his arm slung around you as you walk towards his truck. "Don't need one, anyway. Think I remember you wantin' to kiss all through your lunch last week."
"Oh, shut up," you giggle, shoving his side. Gator cackles and presses a quick kiss to your forehead when you arrive at his truck.
"No peeking," he says, and you nod, closing your eyes. He opens the passenger's side door and reaches inside, only to push something in your hands. You grasp what feels like grass, then bat your eyes open, finding a small gathering of wildflowers wrapped with a rubber band. Your eyes widen and you glance up at Gator, who's standing up a bit straighter now.
"Buncha wildflowers bloomed over at the ranch this week and, uh, they reminded me of you. Got up this morning and picked some for ya. I've never given anyone flowers before, but, y'know... wanted you to be the first, I guess."
You clutch the flowers closer to your chest, sniffing their beautiful aroma. You swear you feel your heart blossom, just like the wildflowers Gator picked for you.
"This is so sweet," you say softly. "Thank you so much. I don't even know what to say."
"Really?" he asks. "You like 'em?"
You grin, reaching for his hand. "I love them, Gator."
Gator shifts his weight from foot to foot.
"You don't think it's, like... stupid, or nothing?"
"Absolutely not," you reply with a shake of your head. "It's one of the sweetest things anyone's ever done for me."
"And you're not just sayin' that?"
This time, you respond with a firm kiss to his lips, making sure to preserve the small bouquet of wildflowers between the warm press of your chests.
having a shit ass day at work and just getting home all worked up and on edge, gator picking up on it right away because you’re not all happy and bubbly like you usually are—you’re scowling and giving him clipped answers and when you walk into the kitchen and see a sinkful of dishes and dinner decidedly UNstarted, you just turn on him ready to snap
but gator just puts his hands on your arms, rubbing them a little trying to soothe you and maybe it works, bc he’s got his lips pressed to your temple, then your forehead, the bridge of your nose, your lips, and yeah ok. that helps
this one is pure fluff guys enjoy
he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in, and once you're secure in his hold, once you inhale the scent of him, leather and tobacco and a little bit of the bubblegum of his vape, you feel yourself relax exponentially
"wanna talk about it?" he asks, rubbing the spot between your shoulders where you hold all of the tension that builds up throughout the day.
"no," you say, because it isn't even that something happened. it's just a lot of bullshit all snowballing until you felt like you couldn't move without fucking something up, and he just squeezes you a little tighter and smacks one last, sloppy, almost disgustingly wet kiss right on your cheek—it always makes you laugh when he does—and then steps back, letting his hand rest against the side of your neck, thumb brushing over your pulse point. you rub at your cheek where he left a wet lip-print from the kiss.
"i know you ain't wipin' my kiss off."
"it's gross."
"you wanna see gross?" he asks, dropping his hands to your hips and pulling you closer to him, lowering his mouth to your neck where he play-bites at you, making you laugh even more as he pretends to eat your neck, holding you tight until you manage to wriggle out of his hold.
"i'll order a pizza, how's'at sound?" he suggests, and you nod.
"with pepperoni?"
he laughs. "'course, doll. go get changed. 'nd i don't wanna see ya in nothin' that's yers. you better go up there 'nd come down lookin' like me."
you roll your eyes, but you know why he said that and what he means: the nights of your rough days always end with you stealing his clothes. his joggers and oversized hoodies, or sweats and a thermal long-sleeve. tonight it's a pair of his flannel pajama pants and the hoodie he wore to sleep in last night; it smells like him. a little pinch of musk, of toothpaste and when you put the hood up, the shampoo from his shower before bed.
you pad back downstairs and settle onto the couch, and you hear him finishing up the pizza order as you open up netflix, scrolling to your profile as you tuck your legs up so he can pass by you to take his place to your left, trapping you between the arm of the couch and himself.
you lean away, smirking to yourself as he tries to crowd you for a kiss on the cheek.
"fuck you doin'? he asks. "lemme kiss ya."
"promise you won't slobber all over me this time."
"can't," he says. "always got me droolin' for ya."
"that's gross, gator," you say, but finally relent, straightening up so he can tug you into him. you wait as he first nuzzles your cheek with his nose, then places a soft, gentle kiss there, lingering there, waiting to pull away until he feels it: your smile growing, rounding the apples of your cheeks, and only then does he pull away, but it's only to ensure there's even more contact between you; he pulls your legs over his thighs, so you're sitting perpendicular to him, your shoulder to his as he lets you rest against his front, and you sit just like that, scrolling through potential viewing options before just choosing gilmore girls as always.
"start it from season three," gator says.
"why? we're almost finished with this watch-through."
"'cause i fuckin' can't stand logan, and i don't wanna see his sorry ass."
you laugh, but just make a mental note of what episode you were actually on, so you can watch by yourself the next time he's got an overnight shift.
"you know you're gonna have to answer the door when the pizza gets here," you say, settling in against him to watch season 1, episode 1.
"we'll see about that," he says, but you know he will.
summary: reader is insecure. steve shows her she's beautiful while still respecting boundaries!
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
classification: smutty blurb
warnings: 18+, not my gif!, cussing, oral (f!receiving), reader has a vagina, not proofread!
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
You weren’t the most experienced.
You weren’t a virgin. You’d done some stuff before, but nothing insane. Something that didn’t help was how insecure you are.
When Steve – King Steve “The Hair” Harrington – first showed interest in you, you were beside yourself. Why would the hottest guy in Hawkins feel anything towards a girl like you?
But Steve knew you were beautiful. Everyone knew you were beautiful, except for you. And you knew he wanted you so bad, as much as he (poorly) tried to hide it.
“Just wanna touch you, baby,” he slurs, kissing at your neck. “Won’t pressure you, but… you’re beautiful. I just wanna taste you.”
You can’t deny the way that his words, his voice, send heat straight down to your core. God, you want him so bad, too. But if he sees you in full, if he sees more than just your face, will he still find you beautiful?
You squirm under him, huffing a laugh, weakly pushing at his shoulders. “Stevie… baby, I dunno. I’m not the prettiest… down there.”
He pulls back, looking at you like you just turned into a dog. His brows were pulled taut in that way that made you swoon. “What do you mean, honey?” he murmurs, cupping your face in his hands. “How would you know, hm?” He kisses at your collar, then at your sternum through your shirt.
You run your fingers through his hair, your breathing getting heavier and heavier. He kneels between your legs. “I’ll be the judge of that, baby. That okay?”
You whine. “I dunno…”
He kisses your thighs. “That’s alright, honey. But I wanna make you feel good. Do you trust me to make you feel good?”
Your face goes red. But you manage a nod.
“Words, sweet girl.” Steve presses a kiss to your bare thigh below your shorts.
“Yes, I trust you,” you whisper.
“Good,” he grins, slowly pulling down your shorts. You tense up, your fingers tightening in his hair. He chuckles. “Relax, baby. I’m leaving your panties on, okay?”
He kisses above your panties first, right on your navel. You whimper and feel him smirk against your hot skin.
He slowly kisses lower. And lower. Then he’s hooking your thighs over his shoulders and pressing a featherlight kiss to your clothed clit.
A gasp is ripped from you. Your fingers tighten in his hair again, your nails in his scalp. The sudden, barely-there pleasure shoots up through you like shocks. “Oh, f– fuck,” you breathe.
He licks up your clothed slit, drenching the fabric even further than your wetness already had. You whine, tugging at his hair even more, causing him to groan into you. A shudder runs through your body, up your chest and out to your fingertips.
Steve hums into you, hooking his hands around your thighs and pulling you closer to his face. He buries his nose and mouth into your pussy as your back arches off of his silk sheets. “Feel good?” he mumbles.
You nod. Your thighs tighten around his head, basically suffocating him, and his eyes just roll back. He pulls back to admire his work.
Your cotton panties are see-through now, every part of you visible. The sopping fabric sticks to your folds and he lightly blows on it. You yelp and squirm in response to the cold air.
He kneads his fingers into your thighs to soothe you. “Shh, babygirl. I got you, don’t worry.”
He dives back in with even more desperation than before. You cry out, trembling under him, tugging at his hair. Your eyes travel to his hips, hopelessly grinding into the mattress while he whimpers into you.
Your abdomen begins to tighten. Your thighs start to shake. He rubs your hips, mumbling nonsense into your heat, gently coaxing you to break.
So you do.
You babble moans, gasping his name, bucking up into his mouth. Steve guides you through it oh so carefully, pulling back when you collapse so you don’t get overstimulated. He presses tender kisses to your soft tummy while your chest heaves.
“You okay? Was that good?” his honey-like voice mutters.
You weakly pull him up to your face, brushing a kiss against his lips. “Thank you,” you whisper.
A smile spreads across his face. Not smug or sarcastic like usual, just genuine. He presses his lips to your forehead. “Of course, pretty girl. Of course.”
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
a/n: ok it's been like two months but i'm back! (sorry lol) i'm on summer break now yay so hopefully i'll be posting more. i have an idea for a possible steve series and i'm thinking of making a smau on twt so keep an eye out! (my twt is djosfools)
