I keep this song on repeat and this is what I keep having in my mind to write. I have never wrote Joel Miller so please bear with me.
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After the world seemed to end Joel Miller had no idea he would ever fall in love again, let alone with you. And Joel tried to deny the feelings, even went as far as breaking up with you but that did not work. If anything it made everything harder. He thought distancing himself that he could forget but everything reminded him of you.
He'd see you around Jackson and he could tell just by looking at you that he hurt you. He tried to ignore Ellie who constantly yelled at him for hurting you. He would ask Tommy if you were ok and he would of course say. And damn did he regret it.
He thought breaking away from you would be good for you but he didn't realize just how much pain he caused. So, when he decided to try to fix things with you, you would not even look at him. And he could not blame you.
"Wait" he says calling your name. You stop then turn to him and the look on your face killed him. "What Joel, what do you want" you say. He hears the pain in your voice. He takes a breath "please let me explain why I did this". You sigh and cross your arms.
"I thought if I ended this that it would be better for both of us, but I was wrong. I miss you, God, I love you and I hate myself for hurting you darlin, but I got scared.
it has been a while since I have felt anything for anyone, and so i thought pushing you away was the best thing. i now know how wrong I was." You still just stand there looking at him. "I thought you deserved better than me," he whispers and looks away.
You sigh "Joel" you start "why do you think there is anything better than you? I love you. All I ever wanted was you. You are the love of my life. I know about all the killing you did and I still choose you but you broke my heart" he sighs.
"I know I hurt you, I got scared. I have not felt anything like this in so long. I thought if I i pushed you away was protecting myself but to be honest it made everything worse."
You just watch him and sigh "you really hurt me Joel" he just nods. "I know" You look him up and down. "I want to believe that you won't hurt me again. Because I can't go through this heart ache again" You tell him.
He steps closer and grabs both of your hands " I promise i will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I love you so much it scares me. I put up walls after Sarah" he says, and You pull him close.
"I cannot imagine the pain you felt losing Sarah and I completely stand why you have the walls, but I need you to let me in. I want you burden me with your troubles. I want to be there for all your good and bad days" you take your hand and stroke his cheek.
He nods " I promise if you give another chance, I will let you in but please I cannot go another day without you by my side"
You sigh nodding "one more chance Joel, I mean it" You say, and he pulls you close and kisses you. "I promise" he says, and I wrap your arms around his neck and hug him.
He chuckles "I hope you know Ellie gave me hell for hurting you" You laugh "good". "So does this mean we are a couple again" he asks burying his head in your neck and you nod. "Of course," you tell him as you hold him. You missed the feeling of being in his arms.
You sigh knowing he will keep his word, and he does. He hardly lets you out of his sight, but you secretly love it. And of course, Ellie was thrilled that you two were no longer fighting. And eventually things went back to normal which was all you could ask for.
steve loves fucking you with the risk of getting caught.
pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader
cw: smut | unprotected sex, fingering, lots of dirty talk, semi public
✉️ request
the air in the library is thick with the scent of old paper and the dust motes dancing in the slanted afternoon light. it's supposed to be a sanctuary of quiet knowledge, but for you, it's a torture chamber. every nerve ending is on fire, hyper-aware of the warm, heavy weight of steve harrington's hand resting on your thigh.
it started ten minutes ago. a casual, proprietary touch that he'd perfected over the last few weeks of your secret hookups. now, his thumb is stroking a slow, maddening circle on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, inching higher with every pass, a silent promise of what's to come. you're trying to focus on the highlighted text in your history book, but the words are swimming, blurring into meaningless shapes.
"so, the jacksonian democracy was basically a big 'fuck you' to the elite, right?" robin whispers, leaning across the table.
"something like that," you manage, your voice a little too high. steve's thumb has just grazed the seam of your jeans, right over the ache that's been building for the last hour. you squeeze your legs together, a pathetic attempt to quell the throbbing, but it only presses his hand more firmly against you.
steve chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that you feel more than you hear. he leans closer, pretending to look at your book, his breath hot against your ear. "having a little trouble concentrating, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. "or are you just thinking about my cock?"
your breath hitches, and you shoot him a warning glare that he completely ignores. his fingers dance higher, tracing the zipper of your jeans, a feather-light touch that's somehow more torturous than a firm grip.
"i'm fine," you say to robin, who's now looking at you with a knowing smirk. "just... a headache."
"sure it's not a different kind of ache?" robin winks, and you feel your face flush with heat.
"ignore her," nancy says, not looking up from her notes. "she's just jealous she's not getting any."
"i get plenty," robin retorts, but you're not listening anymore. because steve's hand has moved again, his fingers now pressing firmly against your clothed core, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that are making you see stars. you have to physically bite your lip to keep from moaning out loud.
"fuck," you breathe, the word escaping before you can stop it.
everyone looks at you.
"language," jonathan says mildly, from the other end of the table.
"sorry," you mumble, your face burning. "just... stubbed my toe."
"under the table?" steve asks, his voice laced with amusement. his fingers press harder, and you can feel your panties growing damp, the fabric sticking to you uncomfortably. "clumsy."
"you're one to talk," you shoot back, but your voice is weak, breathy. you're losing control. you can feel the tension coiling in your stomach, a tight, desperate knot that needs to be released.
"i think i need some air," you say suddenly, pushing your chair back. "or... a book. yeah, a book. for my english paper."
"what book?" nancy asks, ever the helpful one.
"it's... it's about..." your mind is a complete blank. you can't think of a single thing, except for the way steve's fingers are still tracing patterns on your thigh, even now.
"the sun also rises," steve says smoothly, his voice completely normal. "hemingway. she needs it for her paper on the lost generation. i'll help her find it. it's in the stacks, right?"
"yeah, back wall," jonathan says, already turning back to his own work.
"we'll be right back," steve says, pushing his own chair back. he stands up, and you get a perfect view of the bulge straining against the front of his jeans. he catches you looking and winks, a slow, filthy smirk that makes your stomach clench.
you follow him, your legs feeling like they're made of jelly. he leads you deeper into the library, past the main study area, into the tall, imposing stacks. the air is cooler here, and quieter, the silence broken only by the distant rustle of pages. he doesn't stop at the end of the aisle, but keeps going, pulling you into a narrow, dead-end corridor between the shelves of ancient, leather-bound books.
he pushes you against the cold, hard wood of the bookshelf, his body covering yours, his mouth crashing down on yours in a desperate, possessive kiss. it's all teeth and tongue, a frantic, hungry clash that tastes of desperation and lust.
"you have no fucking idea what you do to me," he growls against your lips, his hands fumbling with the button of your jeans. "walking around in those tight jeans, acting all innocent. i know what you are. you're a dirty girl who loves being touched in secret."
"only by you," you gasp, your head falling back against the books as his lips trail down your neck, his teeth scraping against your pulse point.
"damn right," he grunts, finally managing to undo your jeans. he pushes his hand inside your panties, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. "fuck, you're soaking. have you been this wet the whole time?"
"for you," you breathe, your hips bucking against his hand.
"that's my girl," he purrs, his voice a low, dirty rumble against your ear. "my perfect girl, dripping for me in the middle of the library. what would your friends say if they could see you now? if they knew you were letting me finger you right around the corner?"
"steve," you whimper, his words sending a jolt of arousal straight to your core. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing it in tight, merciless circles, and you can feel your knees start to buckle.
"what's the matter, baby?" he taunts, his voice mocking. "can't handle it? you were squirming in your chair like a bitch in heat. did you think i wouldn't notice? did you think i wouldn't know what you were begging for?"
you can only shake your head, your hands gripping his shoulders as he works you with his fingers. he's ruthless, his movements precise and calculated, designed to push you to the edge and hold you there.
"please," you whimper, your voice barely a whisper. "steve, please."
"please what?" he asks, his tone cruel. "use your words. tell me what you want."
"you," you gasp, your hips grinding against his hand. "i want you inside me. i want your cock."
"yeah?" he growls, his fingers stilling. "you want me to fuck you right here? right where anyone could walk by and see? see you with your pants around your ankles, taking my cock like my good girl?”
"yes," you moan, the filthy words sending a fresh wave of arousal through you. "yes, please, fuck me."
that's all he needs to hear. he pulls his fingers out of you, and you whine at the loss, but he's already undoing his own jeans, pushing them down just enough to free himself. he's hard and heavy in his hand, the tip leaking pre-cum, and the sight of him makes your mouth water.
he lifts you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pins you against the bookshelf. you can feel the hard length of him pressed against your entrance, and you grind against him, desperate for relief.
"look at me," he commands, his voice rough. you open your eyes, and his are dark, pupils blown with lust. "i want to see you when i fuck you. i want to see your face when i make you come."
he lines himself up and pushes into you in one smooth, brutal stroke, and you have to slap a hand over your own mouth to keep from screaming. he fills you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, the thick head of his cock hitting that spot deep inside you that makes you see stars.
"fuck, you're tight," he groans, his face buried in your neck. "so fucking tight for me. this pussy was made for my cock."
you can only nod, your hands gripping his hair as he starts to move. his pace is punishing, each thrust driving you further up against the books, the hard wood digging into your back. it's rough and dirty and completely perfect.
"that's it," he grunts, his hips snapping against yours. "take it. take my fucking cock. you love it, don't you? you love being fucked in public."
you do. you love it. you love the risk, the filth of it, the way he's claiming you, marking you as his in the most primal way possible. you can feel your orgasm building, a tight coil in your stomach, ready to snap.
"i'm gonna come," you whimper, your voice muffled by your hand.
"not yet," he growls, his hand coming up to cover your mouth, his fingers pressing against your lips. "you don't get to come until i say so. you understand me?"
you nod, your eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement.
"good girl," he purrs, his hips moving faster, harder. "now, be quiet. you wouldn't want our friends to hear what a greedy girl you are, would you? hear you moaning like that for my cock."
you can only whimper against his palm, the sound muffled, pathetic. the pressure of his hand over your mouth is intoxicating, a symbol of his complete control. he's fucking you in a library, surrounded by the silent ghosts of literature, and the only sounds are the slap of skin on skin, the frantic rustle of your clothes, and the muffled whimpers you can't hold back.
"that's it," he grunts, his voice a low, possessive growl against your ear. "take it. take every fucking inch. you feel that? feel how deep i am? this pussy is mine. it was made for me to fuck."
he shifts his angle slightly, and the head of his cock drags against your g-spot with every brutal thrust. your eyes roll back in your head, and your body arches against him, a silent plea for more. he knows your body so well, knows exactly how to play it, how to push you to the brink and hold you there, dangling on the precipice of oblivion.
"you close, baby?" he asks, his voice strained. "i can feel you clenching around me. this little pussy is getting so tight, so hungry for me."
you nod frantically, your nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. you're so close you can taste it, the pleasure coiling in your stomach, hot and tight and ready to explode.
"not yet," he commands, his voice sharp. "i told you, you wait for me. you come when i say you come."
he slows his pace, pulling out almost completely before sliding back in, a slow, torturous drag that has you seeing stars. it's agony. it's ecstasy.
"please," you beg against his hand, the word a muffled, desperate plea. "please, steve, let me come. i need to come."
"who does this pussy belong to?" he asks, his voice a low, dominant rumble. "who fucks you this good?"
"you," you moan, the answer immediate and absolute. "you, steve. only you."
"damn right," he grunts, his pace quickening again, his hips snapping against yours with renewed vigor. "and who do you come for?"
"you," you gasp, your body trembling. "i only come for you."
"that's my fuckin’ girl," he growls, and then he lets go. "come for me. now. come all over my fucking cock."
his permission is all it takes. your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, a blinding, all-consuming rush of pleasure that rips through your body. your walls clench around him, a vice-like grip that pulls a guttural groan from his throat. you scream against his hand, the sound lost in the meat of his palm as your body convulses, waves of ecstasy wracking your frame.
he fucks you through it, his thrusts becoming erratic, his breathing ragged. "that's it, baby, milk my cock," he grunts, his face buried in your neck. "take my fucking cum. i'm gonna fill you up. gonna pump this tight little pussy full of me."
with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, and you feel him pulse, a hot, thick flood of his release filling you up. it's so much, so intense, that it triggers another, smaller orgasm, a faint aftershock that leaves you breathless and boneless.
for a long moment, you just stay there, tangled together, your bodies pressed against the cold, hard wood of the bookshelf. the only sound is your ragged breathing, the frantic pounding of your heart gradually slowing to a steady rhythm. you can feel his cum inside you, a warm, sticky reminder of your transgression, and the thought is both mortifying and incredibly arousing.
slowly, carefully, he lowers you back to the ground. your legs feel like jelly, and you have to grip the bookshelf to steady yourself. he pulls out of you, and you feel a sudden, aching emptiness, a sense of loss that's almost physical.
but before you can even process it, he's already moving, his hands tucking himself back into his jeans, his movements quick and efficient. then his hands are on you, pulling your panties up, then your jeans. he zips and buttons them for you, his touch surprisingly gentle after the rough, possessive way he just took you.
"hold it in," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, possessive rumble. "don't you dare let a drop spill. i want you to feel me for the rest of the day. i want you to walk back to that table with my cum dripping out of you, a little secret only we know. i want you to remember who this pussy belongs to."
you nod, your body still trembling, completely under his spell. you can feel his cum starting to leak out of you, a warm, sticky trickle down your inner thigh, and you clench your muscles, trying to keep it inside, just like he told you to.
he straightens your shirt, his hands lingering on your hips. "you okay?"
"yeah," you say, your voice hoarse, barely a whisper. "i'm... good."
"good," he says, a smug, satisfied grin spreading across his face. he leans in and kisses you, a soft, possessive press of his lips against yours. "now, let's go find that book. we wouldn't want to arouse suspicion."
he takes your hand, his fingers lacing with yours, and leads you out of the aisle and back toward the main part of the library. with every step, you can feel his cum inside you, a sticky, secret reminder of what you just did. your legs are shaky, your panties are soaked, and you're walking back to your friends with your enemy's cum dripping out of you.
°⋆ summary: in which steve's best friend (who he's mildly in love with) asks him to pick her up from a party, and he has to do the hardest thing in his entire life.
°⋆ warnings: no use of y/n, not proofread, bad ending probably because i'm not good at endings </3, alcohol consumption (not described), fluff basically
°⋆ wc: 1.5k
°⋆ note: part of my valentine's day event, my first request!! please go send me some more, i'm itching to write. if you want to go on the taglist for this event let me know!
“Steeeeevieeeee!”
He knows the voice before she introduces herself (unnecessarily). It’s his best friend, very drunk and very clingy, if she’s four drinks in like he can predict from the tone of her voice. It’s a dangerous stage for her to be in by herself. So he sighs, holds the phone to his ear very carefully.
“Where are you, honey?” The endearment rolls off his tongue smoothly, the most normal thing in the world. He doesn’t, right now, have time to analyse why it feels so easy to be so romantic with her, even though their relationship is seemingly platonic.
“At that party you told me not to go to.” She hiccups, and he imagines her face on the other side, the vision making him smile softly. Curse her for being so endearing.
“What did you drink?” He asks, already reaching for his jacket, stretching the phone cord as far as it would go. His arms are going in the sleeves as she slurs her answer into the phone,
“Don’t ‘member.” And he pictures her shaking her head defiantly, probably right in the entrance hall, grabbing the wall for support with one hand and holding the phone in the other. “Sorry, Stevie, can you come get me?”
“Yes. Yes, honey, ‘course I can. Can you just wait outside for me? Please?” She murmurs a yes in response, and he hangs up promising to be there soon. Which, to his credit, he is.
That is, after sprucing his hair up in the mirror with a bit of spray. There would be people there, after all, and Steve wasn’t an animal.
After breaking several traffic laws all in the span of 10 minutes, Steve’s car pulls up outside the bustling house. There’s loud music playing from inside, and he hears delighted yelps as people are diving into the pool he knows is in that backyard. He knows this place too well, but had decided to skip out on this particular party. Bad idea, apparently. He parks in the middle of the street like an idiot, because it doesn’t seem like anyone wanted to leave that party anytime soon. And then he rushes out, and sees her.
Exactly how he imagined.
Head in between her legs, hair fanning out around her body, sitting on the curb in a little dress with no jacket. Who needs a jacket anyway? Not Steve. He kneels in front of her, tapping her left knee and making eye contact with her. “Hey, pretty girl.” She giggles, and he smiles. That’s what he wanted to see. No matter how drunk she was, Steve loved to see that stupid smile. He reaches up, shrugs his jacket off, and drapes it over her shoulders.
“You came to get me.” She beams, clumsily reaching for him. He grabs her hands, and steadies her as she wobbles, sitting down, somehow.
“Yeah, honey, you called me. Come on, up.” She’s too wobbly to stand by herself, so he reaches under her armpits and picks her up with him, holding her just slightly off the ground. “Think you’re good to stand?”
“Maybe.” Her legs swung in the air, and he set her down, careful to keep one arm around her waist to keep her steady. “We can’t go to my house. My mama is gonna be sooo mad.” She shakes her head, a very serious expression on her face, and he can’t help but laugh. “Stevie, not joking!” She complains, weakly slapping his arm. He mocks hurt, rubbing the spot and pouting down at her as he leads her to the car.
“Fine, you can sleep over. Don’t have to lie.” He teases again, and receives another swift punch on the arm, this one decidedly harder. He opened the passenger door of his car, helping her in and leaning over to buckle her in. He was suddenly very aware of how her eyes were on him, big and owlish, because her breath was warm on his neck as he situated her.
“Stevie.” She whispers, and he turns his head to meet her eyes, half-kneeling on the pavement. His heart flutters, and curse that. “You’re so pretty. I love you.” She leans in for a kiss, but he leans backward, shaking his head.
“Not right now, honey. You’re very drunk.” He should really get a medal for this. It was the hardest thing he’d done in his entire life. The most beautiful girl ever called him pretty, told him she loved him, tried to kiss him, and he had to say no? This was killing him. He stood, closing the door and climbing into the driver’s seat. The drive home was silent, because her arms were crossed like she was a petulant toddler. He felt bad, he really did, but if they were going to get together, it wasn’t going to be like this. She couldn’t be drunk while it happened.
She forced him to carry her into the house, and take off her shoes, but mercifully was okay with changing herself into some pajamas she’d left at his once. He tucked her into the guest bed, meaning to say something, really, but she was out as soon as he pulled the blanket up to her neck. He pressed his lips softly to her forehead, and turned the light off.
His life really did suck.
—
The following morning, he was in the kitchen making pancakes when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned his head around to look over his shoulder at her, smiling softly. “Hey, sleepyhead.” He grins, going back to the pancakes as she situates herself on a kitchen stool. “Sleep okay?”
“Head hurts.” She complains, and he laughs even though he knows she’ll kill him for it later. He did find it funny. Just a little bit.
“Well, that’s what happens when you drink as much as you had last night.” He shrugs, and flips the first pancake right onto her plate. “Eating makes it better.”
“I know.” They’ve been through this a few times, usually when both of them are drunk, but ever since he’d been starting to babysit Steve was on a turn for the better. He kept hoping maybe one of these days she’d take one too. She ate in silence for a few minutes, and he went back to making the pancakes. By the time she spoke again, he was already turning off the stove. “Steve?”
“Yeah, sweetie?” He turned fully, leaning against the countertop. He tilted his head to the side, watching her a moment.
“Did I say something embarrassing last night? I just- I have a feeling I said something weird. Or did something, I don’t know. But just tell me, please, because I hate this feeling.” She laughs nervously, and he wishes he could kiss all over her face and make it better. But not now (yet, hopefully).
“Uhm-” He busies himself with trying to tidy the countertop, washing the pan in the sink and shrugging nonchalantly. “You know, uh-” He clears his throat, physically unable to get the words out for a second. “You just tried to kiss me, is all.”
The groan escaping from her is instantaneous, and she buries her face in her hands. “Oh god, really? Steve, I’m- I’m really sorry, I do really stupid things when I’m drunk-”
“I didn’t think it was stupid.” He exhaled deeply, finally turning to face her, his lips slightly pursed. “I just didn’t let you do it because you were drunk. But you know, uh- it wouldn’t have been stupid. If you weren’t drunk.”
“Oh.” She looks away from him, down at her food, and he’s worried he’s ruined everything. Maybe it really just was a drunk action, and there was nothing behind it. “Well, I’ll have to try it again sometime.”
His heart leaps, pounding at his ribcage, trying to beat its way out of his chest and into her hands. As far as he’s concerned, it’s already there, but he wishes it would go so the ache would go away. He clears his throat again - god, what is stuck in there? “Now, would be acceptable.”
Slowly, agonisingly slowly, she pads out of her stool. Steve has to look away because he can’t watch, eyes focusing on the ceiling, until finally, she’s standing right in front of him. He knows because he feels a soft tap on his shoulder, and looks down to see her standing there.
“Hey, pretty girl.” He whispers, searching her eyes. She giggles again, just like she did last night, but with more clarity this time. Not drunk anymore.
Do it. Do it. He can’t. King Steve is freaking out on the inside, and it’s like her body is a magnet literally pulling his heart out of his chest. Can it just go already?
He leans in to kiss her, hoping that’ll make it stop.
╰ in which... steve gets a little too loud for his own good and learns that his girlfriend finds his lack of volume control incredibly attractive.
| steve harrington x fem!reader
𑣲 warnings : smut, unprotected sex, missionary, established relationship
𑣲 from the author : this is so steve you cannot tell me otherwise!!! i love writing for steve so much
your bedroom is your sanctuary. it’s small and a little cluttered, but it’s yours. the curtains are drawn, the only light coming from the little fairy lights strung across your headboard, casting a warm, hazy glow. and steve is on top of you, kissing you like he’s trying to crawl inside your skin.
it started out normal. well, your normal. a desperate, frantic makeout session that quickly escalated. clothes were shed, hands roamed, and now he’s settling between your thighs, his weight a perfect, grounding pressure on top of you.
he pushes into you, slow and steady, and you both let out a collective sigh. it’s perfect. he feels perfect. he starts to move, a slow, deep rhythm that has your toes curling. and then he lets out this sound.
it’s not a moan, not really. it’s a full-body, from-the-back-of-his-throat groan. it’s loud. it’s so loud it’s almost comical, and it’s followed by a string of breathy curses.
“oh, fuck, baby, you feel so—shit—so good.”
you can’t help but smile into his shoulder. you love it. you love how vocal he is, how he just can’t help himself. he’s an open book, and you’re currently reading your favorite chapter.
but then he stops.
he just freezes mid-thrust, his whole body going rigid above you.
you pull back, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “what’s wrong?”
he’s avoiding your eyes, his face buried in your neck. you can feel the heat radiating off his cheeks. “nothing,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by your skin. “keep going.”
“steve, you stopped,” you say, wiggling your hips impatiently. “what happened?”
“nothing happened,” he insists, but he still won’t move. then, in a much smaller voice, he adds, “did i… was i too loud?”
you have to physically bite your lip to keep from laughing. “too loud?”
he finally lifts his head, and his face is so red it’s almost purple. he looks completely mortified. “i just… i get carried away. and it’s… it’s embarrassing.”
you stare at him. truly and utterly stare at him. is he serious? “steve harrington. are you telling me you’re trying to be quiet right now?”
“well, yeah,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “your parents are, like, two rooms down. and it’s just… undignified.”
“undignified?” you repeat, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. you prop yourself up on your elbows, ignoring the fact that he’s still inside you. “you do realize we’re literally having sex, right? the dignified ship has sailed.”
“that’s not the point,” he whines. “the point is i sound like a… a dying whale or something.”
that’s when you do it. you can’t help it. a giggle escapes your lips, and then another, until you’re full-on laughing, your head thrown back.
he looks utterly betrayed. “it’s not funny!”
“it’s a little funny,” you manage to gasp, wiping a tear from your eye. you cup his face, your thumbs stroking his burning cheeks. “steve. look at me.”
he does, his eyes all big and wounded like a puppy’s.
“i love it,” you say, your voice dropping to a serious, sincere whisper. “i love that you’re loud. i love knowing i’m making you feel so good you can’t help yourself. it’s the hottest thing i’ve ever heard.”
his blush deepens, but the wounded look in his eyes is slowly replaced by something else. something hopeful. “really?”
“really,” you confirm. you pull him down for a soft, reassuring kiss. “now, please. stop trying to have polite sex with me and fuck me like you mean it. i want to hear you.”
that’s all the encouragement he needs.
a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, and all traces of his previous embarrassment vanish. he’s back. he starts to move again, and this time, he doesn’t hold back.
he’s not just loud now, he’s theatrical. with every thrust, there’s a corresponding grunt or groan or a string of filth whispered right against your ear.
“fuck, just like that. you’re so tight, baby. taking me so well.”
“god, you feel incredible. i could do this all night.”
“you like that, huh? you like hearing how good you make me feel?”
and you do. you really, really do. it’s like a feedback loop of pleasure. the louder he gets, the more turned on you get, the tighter you clench around him, which in turn makes him louder. it’s a beautiful, messy, perfect cycle.
the knot in your stomach tightens, faster than usual, spurred on by his constant stream of praise and profanity. you can feel yourself getting close, your nails digging into his shoulders.
“that’s it, baby, come for me,” he pants, his rhythm becoming erratic. “wanna hear you. wanna feel you. come on.”
and you do. you shatter, a loud cry tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you. it’s intense, all-consuming, and it’s all because of him.
he follows you over the edge a second later with a guttural, positively pornographic groan that you’re sure would give your dad an aneurysm. he collapses on top of you, his whole body limp and sweaty.
for a moment, the only sound is your combined, heavy breathing. then, you feel his chest start to shake with silent laughter.
“okay,” he says, his voice muffled by your pillow. “maybe you’re right. that was… way better.”
you run your fingers through his sweat-damp hair, a lazy, satisfied smile on your face. “told you so.”
he lifts his head, his eyes sparkling. “just… maybe try to keep it down a little next time? pretty sure your dad owns a shotgun.”
you laugh, pulling him down for another kiss. “no promises.”
Thinking of Steve with a reader who is also a nerd, but not in the same way the others are.
Reader who is an absolute nerd for pop culture, movies, music, books, and fashion.
Steve is absolutely obsessed with hearing reader talk about her interests, even though he’s only really paying attention to the they way her face lights up when she does so.
He loves spending time in her room because it’s like an archive of all the things she loves, posters on the wall, clothes and tapes scattered everywhere.
They have movie dates all the time, and Steve pretends not to notice her staring at him each time her favourite parts come on so she can see his reaction.
Steve keeps mixtapes she gave him in his car, so they can listen together and so he can listen when she’s not there because the songs remind him of her.
Steve always notices when reader tries something new with her fashion, “I like this a lot, fits your figure realll good.” His hands roaming everywhere.
The group are a bit too hasty to judge at first, because she doesn’t have good grades and they think she’s one of Steve’s flings, but once she spends more time with them because Steve always has her around, they realise how cool and knowledgeable she is
Reader who is always referencing something that Steve doesn’t have a single clue about, but occasionally someone from the group will pick up on it if it’s a shared interest. For example Robin with movies and music, and Nancy with fashion and books.
Reader who works with Steve and Robin at family video, and later the WSQK
Eleven and Max see reader as their big sister, always asking for recommendations and clothing advice, Max claiming that her taste is the best.
Reader and Steve who are a bit slow to keep up with the upside down stuff, often glancing at each other with equally confused expressions.
Dustin having a similar moment with reader as he did with Erica. “Holy shit-you are a nerd…Steve your girlfriend is a nerd, you can’t escape them!”
Robin teasing Steve when he correctly references something. “You so got that from her, I think it’s great, she’s educating you.”
warnings: barely edited, alternative!reader, angst, miscommunication trope, fighting, reader is hopper's daughter but no mentions of biological relation, fem reader, talking behind reader's back (she gets called clingy and annoying), happy ending
summary: after waiting up for steve and overhearing something he'd been keeping from you, you decide it's time for him to realise there are consequences to his own actions... only you make a big mistake.
word count: 4.1K
author's note: was NOT expecting to write anything tonight but their conversation before the movie came to me like a prophecy and two hours later it's at 4k words don't ask me what happened
You were meant to be meeting Steve after school — he would drive you both to his house, the two of you would spent the evening watching movies, eating snacks and making out and then he would drive you home before curfew. It was what you did most nights. Unless he had a late game on or you had a family thing, even then you'd be sat in the bleachers watching him, cheering at the little thing he did.
Steve had been your boyfriend for coming up to a year now. It was wonderful, everything was perfect. You weren't 100% on his mates, Tommy H and Carol, but you had enough attitude saddled on your belt with the help of your father being the chief of police that you could handle them whenever they were in the same vicinity as Steve.
Some people thought your relationship was weird. Steve had always tended to go for the more mainstream, popular girls that had big poofy hair that matched all the magazines. When everybody first saw you sharing a cigarette behind the bleachers together, someone with your style of make up and the type of cassettes that filled your messenger bag, everybody was surprised.
But you didn't care because things were good with Steve. Perfect even. You'd catch him after a class, he'd walk you to your next one, you would spent lunch together, he'd drive you to school every morning if your dad couldn't and you loved every minute of it.
You thought Steve did too.
The ill-fated incident occurred on a Tuesday afternoon. Steve had basketball practise after school, so you'd gone to the music room to practise on the school classical guitars. He had told you when practise was supposed to finished so five minutes too, you turned up outside the gym changing room, pulling your headphones off and tucking them around your neck just before the hour ticked over.
The door was quite thin, apparently, because you could hear everything they were saying in there, even over the light hiss of the showers running. Men's voices carried, especially against the sharp tile, echoing directly towards you and finding your ears.
At first, you didn't think that Steve was the one speaking. It didn't quite sound like him, but when Tommy laughed, you realised it had to be him. There were no other voices, no other possibility that it could be anybody but Steve.
"I dunno man, she's just getting annoying. A bit clingy." Followed by Tommy's menacing laughter that you recognised from the more than once occurrence of you jabbing back at him at the lunch table.
Steve called you annoying. Clingy.
You. Out of all people. Out of the girls that followed him around the corridor, even though he was stuck to your hip the entire day. Out of Carol who wouldn't leave you alone at the lunch table. Out of his ex's that were still caught up on Steve 'The Hair' Harrington, even when they saw you making out in that alleyway down the side of the gym.
Honestly, you laughed to yourself a bit, and slipped your headphones back on. With a hand lifted up and elbow resting on your waist, you began picked at your nails, admiring when you'd got them done yesterday.
Because that was the funny thing.
You were a naturally reserved person. The only person you told absolutely everything was your dad, and that was because he was the chief of police and he'd find out one way or the other. When you and Steve first got together, it took you a while to let him in, it took you a while to trust him enough to let him see that side of you.
Now he was saying it was too much?
Okay, then. If it was too much, then you'd pull back. Go back to being yourself. Go back to being his girlfriend from nine months ago. It was easy enough. If that's what he wanted, then that's what he'd get. You stayed at the door (if you were being totally honest to yourself, you only stayed because you needed a ride home) but a plan begun to form in your mind.
You didn't know how much longer it was until the door swung open, followed by Steve and Tommy their bags slung over their shoulders. Only then did you pull your headphones down and back around your neck, ignoring that weird look that the two boys gave each other. Soon enough Tommy was gone and you were left alone with Steve, ready for him to drive you home.
Automatically, his arm slid around your waist, a swift kiss pressed against your hairline. "Hey sweetheart, you alright?"
You didn't return the sentiment. "Yeah, fabulous. Ready to go?"
"Of course!" He didn't sense anything was wrong. That was exactly what you wanted. You knew Steve well enough by now that you knew he would play exactly into your hand.
The two of you walked to his car, his hand in yours, the connection feeling familiar, feeling nice, but in your head there was still the underlying switch — his words playing on repeat. The reality that he was keeping it from you, still settled there. When he opened the car door for you and slipped around the other side to get in the drivers seat, the second part of your plan was revealed.
"Oh, Steve, by the way, I've gotta cancel our usual evening tonight." You spoke, voice smooth and casual as you buckled yourself in and he started the car. "If you could just drive me back to my dad's that would be perfect, he's got the night off so we're gonna have a night in together. We don't get them very often anymore."
Steve fell for it, reversing out his spot and beginning to drive off in the direction of your dad's place, knowing it off by heart. "Yeah, sure, that's all good. We still on for tomorrow, though?"
You smile, curated and fake but all the more believable. "As far as I'm concerned, yep."
The ride back was quiet. He asked you about your day, you politely returned the favour. You didn't ask anything out of the usual and didn't answer anything out of the usual. For any particularly blunt answer, Steve just put it down as you being tired. You always became a bit more reserved when you'd had a particularly annoying day, so Steve didn't think anything was out of the ordinary.
As he pulled up to your house, your grabbed the bag from the back seat and unbuckled yourself, ready to leave before Steve could coax anything else out of you. You said goodbye without a parting kiss, which Steve did think was a bit odd but he wasn't in the place to bring it up, instead you shut the car door with a smile and watch as he drives off.
You let out a breath, standing on the side of a street for a bit before turning and letting yourself in.
From the kitchen, Hopper heard you walk in. He was stood at the sink, cleaning up from breakfast that morning, casting a concerned look towards you as you dumped your bag and shoes by the door.
"You alright, kid?"
"Yeah, all good." You grin, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the doorframe.
Hopper shrugged, playing a dish on the drying rack and wiping his hands before turning back to you with his arms crossed. "Aren't you supposed to be at Harrington's tonight?"
You shook your head. "Nah. He called me annoying so I'm pulling back. Told him we had an evening planned."
"He called you annoying?"
"And clingy!" You laugh at your dad's reaction. He hadn't been too keen on Steve when the two of you first got together, but once you had convinced him you really liked Steve, your dad had backed off a bit. Now you knew that was all going to go down the drain now. "I think— at least. I don't know, it was either me or some imaginary girl he's made up. It's all good, I'm not fussed about it. If he thinks I'm too much, I'll just be around him less."
Hopper squinted at you. "That ain't very healthy for you, kid."
You shrugged, fiddling with the cassette at your waist. "Well, at least I'm not changing myself for another guy. Just seeing him less. I don't mind, honestly."
"Alright." Hopper stood up straight, stretching. "If that's what you wanna do. Lemme know if I need to hit him with my car or anything, okay?"
"Will do, dad." You grin.
"That's m'girl." Hopper smiles, walking towards the living room and ruffling your hair along the way. He cackles at your reaction, a high screech, but you're following him into the living room either way, ready to spend a night away from the guy that was talking bad about you behind your back.
For the next couple days, you manage to avoid Steve completely. You honestly don't know how you manage it. Wednesday, you ring him in the morning and tell him your sick and can't come into school that day and he can't come and see you at the fear of getting him sick. You spend all day with your dad in the station listening to 60s and 70s funk and soul.
Thursday, you go in but get your dad to drive you in on the way to the station, avoid Steve between classes and spend lunch in the library catching up on the work you missed Wednesday. He rings you that evening and asks if you even came to school but your just shrug even though he can't see you and say, "Yeah, I was in, guess you just didn't see me."
Friday comes around and you've very luckily got a gig in Indianapolis. Steve was supposed to drive you but you lied and told him your dad managed to get a spare ticket and was now going to be driving you up into the capital.
Instead, you used the money you were saving up for Steve's anniversary present to pay the bus fair for the three hour bus journey into the capital. You also used the excuse that traffic was bad so you had to leave around midday to be on time and there was no point in coming into school at all.
See, this reserved thing was easy once you got back into it. Sure, you were lying every now and again, but Steve was being just as bad by calling you annoying behind your back.
Genuinely, if you even were being annoying and clingy, you would have preferred that he just told you, communicated with you and had a proper conversation about it, rather than just keep it to himself. He still hadn't connected the dots with timings and the conversation with Tommy. He still just thought you were being genuine and you just coincidentally had all these things lined up one after another.
Then Sunday evening rolled around. You'd avoided his calls all weekend, avoided him in town and managed to have plausible excuses for every time you had missed once of his calls.
You and your friends had planned to go see a movie in town that evening. You knew that Steve usually hung around that part of town a lot, but you weren't worried. When you were with your friends you could just say you were busy, or that you were running late and were going to miss the beginning of the movie.
Any way, your friends knew about it all. They were all on your side about it, perhaps a little confused about why you were pulling away but they let you do your own thing, they trusted you with how you handled situations.
So you all walked into town together, meeting the other two at the theatre, all four of your ready to go see a movie. From the alley down the side of the building, you hear Tommy's horrid laugh again, which meant that Steve would probably be there too.
When the four of you walked past the alley, you saw Steve sit up at the sight of you, already being pushed by Tommy and Carol to move so he doesn't just watch you walk away. You giggle a little, but attempt to make your friends speed up, them catching on immediately to Steve being there and that you don't exactly want to talk to him.
"Baby!" But he calls for you either way, and you and your friends can't get into the theatre in time before his hand is on your shoulder. You turn, staring up at him with a monotone expression, the best you can pull together in this moment. He smiles when he meets your eyes. "Hey!"
You turn back to your friends, who have moved closer to the door of the building, egging you on to leave him. "Hey Steve— Sorry we're in a rush. Gonna miss the movie, I'll see you later!"
He's too fast, he catches your upper arm, not letting you leave. "You'll miss the adverts and the trailers, you can stay for a bit, surely?"
With parted lips, you realise you can't get out of it. "Yeah, sure. What's up, then, Steve?"
Steve's eyebrows furrow at you, dropping his hand from your arm. Suddenly his hands are shoved in his pockets, and he begins to curl in on himself, the doubts settling in. "No.. nothing in particular, just— haven't seen you in ages."
"Yeah, I've been busy. Can't help it." You do your best to keep your sentences short, building that wall taller and thicker than ever, just to hurt him.
"I know." Steve nods. "I've missed you. A lot. Haven't seen you in nearly a week."
You step back, the words coming to your head perfectly. With your hands coming up to cross over your chest, you glance quickly at the alley, Tommy and Carol's heads poking out from behind brick as you turn back to Steve with a raised eyebrow.
"I don't know, Steve, you're being a bit clingy."
You ignore the gasps from both your friends and Steve's. The boy's lips part, eyebrows furrowed deeper than before as he feels his chest crack at your words. His voice his meek as he speaks, full of confusion and heartbreak. "What?"
Your shoulders shrug before you can stop them. "I mean, surely you can go a couple days without seeing your girlfriend. It's getting annoying, Steve, I'll admit." You don't even realise you've quoted his own speech word for word, it was just the first rebuttal that came into your head.
"Baby."
Steve cracks. He goes from confused to just broken and upset. His eyebrows turn inwards, and he stumbles a step forward, but you're one step ahead of him, stepping backwards. This just hurts him even more.
You scoff at his single word, harsh and hurting.
"Yeah, it don't feel good, does it?"
It's dark outside when the movie ends. When you've eaten an immense amount of popcorn and gossiped over the end of the movie, you and your friends vacate your seats, laughing and cackling as you all walk outside.
You turn on the balls of your feet and walk towards your friends, ushering them inside the building. You leave Steve outside the movie theatre, not feeling an ounce of guilt as you take your seat.
It's then you notice. Steve's Beemer parked directly outside the building, with the boy sat against the drivers seat door, one knee tucked up against his chest, his elbow hooked around the joint, head resting in the crook. At the sight of him, you slow your steps, watching as your friends continue.
He looks pathetic. But he's waited up for you, even when you said that shit to his face, and the guilt begins to seep in at the sight of him there.
Steve was wrong. He should have told you that you were being clingy and that he needed space, but you didn't have to go so hard on him. You could have spoken to him about. You were being hypocritical about the whole situation, really.
When your friends call after you, only then does Steve notice you're standing right in front of him.
You turn to your friends, letting Steve stand up. "You guys go home, it'll be okay, I'll see you all at school tomorrow. Just gotta…" They all understand, nodding and walking off, leaving once again, just you and Steve.
As you turn back to Steve your gaze is waring. You don't just want this to brush over like it would it any other relationship, but you don't don't want to end up being so hard on him again. This needs to be a civil conversation about where you both went wrong. You've come to your senses now and you won't let this conversation end horribly.
"Please, baby." Steve speaks, voice broken and soft as he takes a step towards you. His face is warm under the orange streetlamp, and he just looks so beautiful you think you might die. "I just want to know what happened."
Again, you scoff, but it's different from the last time. It's an empty scoff now, just tired and fed up and disbelief. "I can't believe you haven't figured it out yet."
His eyebrows furrow and his hand reaches for you but you can't bring yourself to let him touch you, so you back away. Steve gets the message and pulls back, nodding bitterly. "I know, I'm an idiot and I'm stupid and I can't figure it out. I just need a little help here, sugar, please. All I can see is you avoiding me all week with excuse after excuse that I can't say no to, then you call me clingy and annoying? Am I being clingy and annoying? I just wanna know and I'll back off, but— I really do miss you."
"You don't remember."
"I don't."
You take in a deep breath and glance off to the side for a second, composing yourself. You don't feel yourself getting upset — this isn't worth that — but there is something dangerous settling in your stomach and you fear the words that may come out your mouth if you let your heart speak over your head.
"Last Tuesday." You speak, calm and collected, and looking Steve in the eye. "I waited for you outside the changing room, I took my headphones off and I heard you say that 'she's being clingy and annoying'. Honestly, I was stupid for even sticking around but I didn't have another ride home. Then I just thought, if you think I'm too much, I'll just see you less. I didn't change myself or how I act, I just pulled back a bit.
And, if I'm being frank then yes, I know it was hypocritical of me. I know I should have communicated with you but I was pissed that you spoke about me behind my back and I thought we had a strong enough relationship for you to tell me if anything was pissing you off so I was annoyed and I acted out."
You're rambling, now. You can't help it. Every thought you've ever had from the past couple days all come tumbling out and there's nothing you can do to stop it.
"But this is two-way street, Steve." You say, the avalanche only building more with each word that spills from between your lips. "We both have to communicate and I couldn't be around someone that would say that shit behind my back. I'm angry that you didn't tell me I was being too much—"
Steve steps forward. "Sweetheart."
You pause, lips parted as you look up at him, his gorgeous brown eyes staring at you with so much love that you couldn't quite piece together what he had taken from your conversation. "What?"
"That wasn't about you."
Oh, you've really gone and fucked it now. Panic creeps in at you star at him. "What do you mean?"
Steve reaches a hand up, presses it against your cheek to partly ground you and partly ground himself, too. His palm is warm against you, and you have to admit that you've missed his touched, even just casual, even just a small gesture. "When I said she was clingy and annoying, that wasn't about you. It was about Daniella K."
Daniella K. The ex-girlfriend that still left notes in his locker. That still followed him around corridors even when he had his arm around you. Fuck.
"She had sat through the whole of practise and waited until the end to ask me if I wanted to go to the movies that evening. I, once again, reminded her that I have you. And that she needs to leave me alone." Steve speaks, his voice regaining it's strength as he realised that this was all a whole tangled web of miscommunication.
You were going to be sick. You stumbled out of his grasp as a hand flew up to cover your mouth, a mumbled, "Fuck." Sounding from beneath your hand.
"Baby, it's okay."
"No, fuck, oh god, Steve." You stammer, gaze flicking between the concrete pavement and his face as he edged towards you again. "Jesus Christ, I'm actually so fucking stupid, what the hell was I thinking?"
Steve furrows his eyebrow and grabs you again, one hand around your waist to pull you back towards him, the other reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear. "Hey, no, none of that. No way on this Earth are you stupid. I should have told you about Daniella, it would have just cleared everything up immediately."
Your head falls into his chest, his scent and grasp familiar and comforting as your heart twisted at your mistake. "I'm so sorry, Steve. I should have just communicated with you."
"I should've too." Steve shrugs, pulling your head out of his chest to get a proper good look at you again. He smiles as you look up at him and he shrugs, clearly not as annoyed about this whole ordeal as he has a right to be. "It's okay, people make mistakes, people get angry. I'm not hurt by it, because I know what happened. We're all good. We'll just learn from this and do better if it ever happens again."
A sigh leaves you and you nod up at him. "Can you forgive me?"
Steve grins, placing a swift kiss against the apple of your cheek. "Already did, sugar."
"You're the best." You smile, lifting yourself up onto your tippie-toes to press your lips against his, welcoming the love and the warmth that he always brings.
His hand automatically reaches for your cheek, tilting your head to get even closer, an arm coming up to wrap around the back of his neck as he pulls you taut against him. It's perfect, it's you and Steve, it's everything sorted out and a promise to never let communication cause any rift between you ever again.
When he pulls back, he keeps you against him, hands switching back to your waist and letting his thumbs rub against the skin there where your shirt has ridden up a little. "Now, our one year anniversary is next Saturday, please tell me you didn't fill your diary that far ahead to avoid me?"
You scoff a little in disbelief, but the smile is still creeping onto your lips. "I can't believe you just said that. Yes, I'm free."
"So I can still spoil the living hell out of you?"
"Yeah, you can, baby." You grin, letting yourself fall into his chest again, feeling his arms wrap around your torso as he begins to sway the two of you slightly.
With his chin resting against your hair, he mumbles, low and meaningful. "Don't ever think you're too clingy or annoying or too much. I love how much time we spent together. I love you no matter what, and I love that I see you at every possible moment in school, and that you're the first person I see every day when I drive you to school. You mean everything to me, sweetheart. and I never want you to think anything else."
"You're literally my favourite person ever." You murmur back, just loud enough where you know he'll hear it, even if your face is pressed into his polo. "I love you."
"Love you too, baby." He smiles, letting the two of you stand there for just a bit longer. "Let me drive you home?"
"Always."
a/n: thanks for reading! hope there aren't any horrible mistakes I sort of wrote this in the spurr of the moment and didn't really keep track of my grammar lmao... reblogs are most appreciated!! love yall!! <3
warnings: female reader, voyeurism, Steve being a peeping tom, oral sex, smut, mentions of death and Vecna.
Steve laid in his bed and couldn’t sleep. The only thing he could think about was what had happened that day.
After the gang had left the gun shop and spent the rest of the afternoon making other makeshift weapons it had grown quite late.
Nancy and Dustin had voted for going into the Upside Down and attacking straight away, but Eddie, Y/N and Lucas had voted for waiting until morning, going through the plan one more time, and trying to catch up on some sleep.
Erica and Max had shrugged, and finally it was decided that they would spend the night at Steve’s house. It was big, there were no parents to interrupt and enough food for them all.
Steve’s house, or more accurately, his parents, had two guest rooms, then there was the master bedroom – rarely used – and Steve’s room.
They voted that Max and Erica would take one guestroom. Y/N, Nancy and Robin would take the master bedroom, sharing the biggest bed. Then Eddie, Dustin and Lucas would take the last guestroom. Eddie made a cot for himself with some pillows on the floor, leaving the bed to Dustin and Lucas.
Steve had gone to bed in his own bedroom. Alone. And while he couldn’t help but thinking about what would happen the next day, it wasn’t the foremost thought on his mind.
He thought about Nancy. About how she and Steve had talked when he drove the ’borrowed’ RV.
How he had admitted he wanted to have six kids – ’nuggets’, as he called them – and ride around the country in an RV just like the one he was driving. That he wanted to settle down in Hawkins. Have family, completely different from his mom and dad.
And how he had told her that he had always imagined she, Nancy, would be a part of that fantasy.
Nancy hadn’t said anything, but the look on her face... yeah, Steve got the hint immediately. There was no room for Steve and six kids in Nancy’s future, that was clear as day. At the most, they would remain friends.
Steve supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. Nancy had been done with him two years ago. But these few days it had felt like... like there was a new chance.
But he was clearly wrong.
And it stung.
Then he heard a noise, forgetting all about Nancy and the hurt he felt.
He immediately sat up. Had Vecna gotten to Max? Or had Vecna let loose a bunch of demogorgons, storming the house?
Steve got out of bed soundlessly, grabbing his trusty old bat from inside the closet, sneaking out into the upper hallway.
First he stuck his head into the guest bedroom with Erica and Max, exhaling a breath of relief when he saw that Max was sleeping, her headphones over her ears, hopefully with Kate Bush on repeat.
Erica was sleeping too, not moving a muscle.
Steve closed the door, still convinced he had heard something.
Then there it was again! A small noise, almost like something scraping against the floor!
Soundlessly he walked down the stairs, bat ready to fight any monster that might have gotten inside.
However, when he came through the doorway to the dining hall he stopped dead in his tracks, jaw dropping.
Then he quickly moved to the side so he wouldn’t be seen. Not that he thought there was much risk of it. The two people inside the dining room, one sitting on the table, the other kneeling in front of it, was clearly very busy, not noticing anything other than each other.
One of them was Y/N. Sweet Y/N, whom Steve had gotten to know at the same time as Robin when they worked at Scoop’s Ahoy together. She, just like Robin had gotten dragged into the mess with the Russians, the Mind Flayer and the fire at Starcourt Mall.
Steve might have flirted a little bit with Y/N, but back then he’d mostly had his eyes on Robin – that was before he knew about her sexuality – and after all that, when the truth serum had made them all brutally honest… there just wasn’t any room for romance between Y/N and Steve. They had seen each other high as kites, sick as puppies in the mall’s restroom’s and hidden away from the Russians in the mall’s movie theater, looking like they’d gone ten rounds in a boxing match with both hands tied behind their backs.
That created a deep bond between people. Steve loved Y/N like a sister, just like he loved Robin, but… after that first initial flirt he had never thought about her romantically. Or sexually.
But someone else clearly did. That, and more.
Y/N was sitting on the table, legs spread, naked except for a purple bra covering her breasts, one foot on the table, while the other was resting on the shoulder of the person kneeling in front of her, face buried between her legs.
And by the looks of the curls that Y/N’s hand was clutching, that person was Eddie Munson.
Steve realized he shouldn’t be surprised. Dustin had mentioned that Y/N often laughed at Eddie’s antics in school, his speeches in the cafeteria, and that she had asked about Hellfire club.
Because of that, Dustin and Mike had asked her to be the stand-in for Lucas during the Championship game.
And Steve had noticed the lingering glances, the little touches that had happened ever since this mess started, with Chrissy’s death and Vecna.
Apparently Y/N and Eddie had decided to make the most of what might be their last night alive.
Steve watched Y/N, how her mouth hung open, how she clutched Eddie’s hair, how her breast rose and fell as she panted, clearly close to the edge.
He felt like some goddamn pervert, spying on them, but... for some reason it eased the ache in his own chest, the one caused by Nancy’s rejection. Seeing this moment between Eddie and Y/N. It was like… it made him happy for them and even second hand happiness… was better than the emptiness he had felt up until now.
Maybe Steve should be offended – they were fucking on his (well, his parents) dining room table – how depraved was that?!
But he wasn’t. He was just glad they could have this moment, since none of them knew what would happen tomorrow.
Steve could hear the wet sounds from Eddie, how he devoured Y/N’s pussy like it was a sweet dessert.
Steve could see how Eddie used one hand, most likely fingering her while still licking, sucking, slurping.
Who would have known that Eddie ’the freak’ Munson was such an expert on eating pussy? It was apparent with the way tears streamed down Y/N’s face and how she tried to keep her sobs, moans and breathing down, so to not wake anyone.
He suddenly saw Y/N’s head fall back against her shoulders, how she tensed up, back arched in a bow, thrusting her hips wildly against Eddie’s mouth. She was cumming. Hard.
Steve registered that he himself was suddenly rock hard. Even though he didn’t thought of Y/N like that, and he barely knew Eddie even though they were getting there. But this... this was so erotic, so... somehow sweet and yet hot, that he couldn’t help but be affected.
Eddie rose to his full height and made a show of pulling his fingers out, sucking them clean, and then smashing his lips against Y/N while she wrapped her arms around his neck, legs around his waist, definitely tasting herself on Eddie’s mouth.
Eddie started to unbuckle his belt, and pushed his jeans down, just enough to get his cock out, Y/N’s hand immediately wrapped around it, starting to move her hand up and down.
Steve’s eyes widened. He himself had absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about when it came to his cock, but it was obvious that neither had Eddie.
He didn’t see much else though, because Eddie started to move his hips, evidently sliding it through Y/N’s still wet folds, making her moan.
”But Eddie... don’t you want me to...?” she whispered and Steve understoood she wanted to return the favor – suck Eddie off.
”No, princess. Need to be inside you so badly, need to fuck you,” Eddie replied, his voice hoarse.
Y/N nodded and finally Steve could see how Eddie thrust with his hips, clearly pushing into Y/N. Both of them froze, clinging to each other like they were drowning.
”C-can I...?” Eddie stuttered out after a moment of silence and Y/N whisper-yelled:
”Move!”
Steve couldn’t help but smile at the urgency in her voice, how she made it sound like she would die if Eddie didn’t start moving right then.
Eddie didn’t need to be told twice; he started snapping his hips, pushing his cock back and forth into Y/N’s cunt, the wet sound of sex and flesh slapping against flesh.
”Fuck, princess, you feel so good!” Eddie got out through gritted teeth, thrusting so hard that the legs of the dining room table – the table Steve’s mother had so proudly bought in a catalogue from New York – were scraping against the floor, moving with every forceful push.
”Oh, Ed...” Y/N moaned, her scratching at Eddie’s back, leaving red marks behind.
Eddie buried his head against her neck, making her whimper, so Steve guessed he sank his teeth into the soft skin there. It would’ve been what he would do.
Steve could see that they were both getting close. Eddie’s curls was sticking to his neck and naked back from sweat, Y/N’s forehead was pressed against his shoulder, small ’uh, uh’s’ coming out of her mouth.
Then, finally, she froze in her movement, biting down on Eddie’s collarbone, her legs shaking around Eddie’s waist. Steve saw the expression on Y/N’s face and knew that she was having an intense orgasm.
Eddie was grunting a little when Y/N bit down on his shoulder, but other than that he kept going, his groans growing louder as he held her so hard Steve was certain he would leave marks, as Eddie was cumming as well, his hips thrusting wildly as if he couldn’t get deep enough in Y/N’s pussy, bringing him so much pleasure.
Steve leaned against the wall, feeling a sort of calm fall over him as they both stilled, the afterglow of the orgasm visible on their faces as Eddie kissed Y/N’s tears away and Y/N’s ran her fingers up and down Eddie’s back.
Then, suddenly Y/N looked over Eddie’s shoulder and met Steve’s eyes. Y/N’s eyes widened and she gasped, before exclaiming: ”Steve!”
Steve panicked, he couldn’t think clearly. So he did the first thing his brain told him to do – he turned tail and ran.
Meanwhile Eddie was frowning at Y/N. ”Did you just call me ’Steve’?” he asked, a bit of anger in his voice, and Y/N shook her head. ”No, it was Steve! He was standing there… right there,” she said, pointing to the doorway. ”He was watching us!”
The dull sounds of someone running upstairs was heard and Eddie grumbled as he pulled out of Y/N, wiping her down with his bandana until she’s stopped leaking his jizz.
Then he kissed her forehead, and gave her back her panties, which he had stuffed into his back pocket before turning around and stomping upstairs.
”Harrington! Don’t think you’re getting off that easy!” he snarled, but quietly, still wary of the rest of the gang sleeping.
Meanwhile Y/N pulled her panties on, laughing so hard she almost fell.
don’t smile because it happened, cry because it’s over!
steve harrington x fem!reader
summary: after starting a relationship with Hawkins’ golden boy, you start to wonder why he hasn’t introduced you to his friends he speaks so highly about- or why he keeps ditching you for them.
warnings: major angst. fluff. smut. secret/ hidden relationship. PTSD. trauma. canon divergence. steves pov. steve begs and grovels.
I had been dating Steve Harrington for three months now. Three months, and I had heard about how funny Robin was, how intelligent Dustin was, and how amazing Nancy Wheeler was.
But I had never gotten to put faces to any of those names.
He told me it was because they were protective of him, he said they had been through a lot together.
yet he wouldn’t tell me what a lot was. he just left me guessing, like I could read his mind or something.
but I knew what went hand in hand with a lot - the scar that hung around his neck, the migraines that occurred after dark, the nightmares where he would wake up screaming.
I knew something, something terrible had happened to him. Happened to his friends. But I just wished he would let me in to see it. To try and help it.
But that’s the thing about boys like Steve Harrington. They carry that pain with them until they’ve shoved it down so far it has no where else to go.
and sometimes you just can’t wait around to be let in- you have to let those walls drive you out.
Besides that one flaw, his walls, the life he wouldn’t let me, the friends he wouldn’t introduce me to. He really was the perfect boyfriend.
He was attentive, caring, patient, and the most unselfish person I had ever met.
In more ways than one.
He would show up to my apartment with flowers. He would show up to my job with lunch. He was always willing to give and give, and he expected nothing in return.
he also once made my cum three times in one night and didn’t even ask me to return the favor.
He would stay the night at my apartment for weeks on end, hold me until the morning light reflected off the sheets, let me run my fingers along the scar on his neck
but he wouldn’t introduce me to any of his friends. He would act like they were infected with the plague every time I brought them up. Everytime it was some excuse, some prior arrrangment.
It made me start to wonder if there was somebody else waiting on him the way I was.
I even offered to have them over at my apartment one time, and he told me they were all busy.
I wondered if he was insecure of them. Maybe they were just super big assholes? But with the way he spoke so highly of them- I assumed not.
I also assumed they weren’t because of how many times he left me for them.
Date nights at Enzo’s- he was leaving because Robin needed a ride.
Movie nights spent at home- Dustin was having a panic attack and needed him.
One time we were even in the middle of having sex- and he pulled out because Nancy and Johnathon needed his help.
I just wanted my boyfriend to put me over his friends once. I wasn’t even asking for him to do it all the time- just once. Just so he would give me a reason to stay.
“Hello-O this is The Squawk, Robin speaking!” I heard in a sing-song voice on the other line. Robin. Like the Robin I had heard so much about- Steve’s best friend.
“Hi- hi Robin, is there- is there anyway you could put Steve on?”
“Oh! Oh yes I can! Can I ask who’s calling?”
“Yeah its- its y/n” I said, assuming she would connect the dots after I told her my name.
“Okie Dokie! I will get him ASAP for you!” She said quickly as the line transferred onto hold.
I was dumbfounded. He didn’t even tell her about us? Had he told any of them? We’ve been dating for the months- I mean no wonder he didn’t want me meeting them.
I felt stupid, I felt pathetic. I had told everybody in my life about Steve, about this great guy I had met. My friends, my family, my parents, they all knew who Steve was, and who he was to me.
And he couldn’t even be bothered to tell his best friend he was seeing me.
I was broken out of my train of thought when I heard the “hold” music end.
“Hey, hey y/n, it’s Steve- what, what do you need?” He said through the phone, sounding slightly out of breath.
“I- oh yeah, I was going to see if you wanted to come tonight?” I told him, trying to make the implication clear.
I figured there had to be some resonable explanation for him not telling Robin, or maybe he did and just like- forgot my name or something.
“Yeah- yeah I would love that, I would love that. I’ll see you tonight” he said as he quickly ended the call.
He sounded excited, like a dog who had just been asked if he wanted a treat. But I could t help but notice that he didn’t call me baby, it was stupid of me to read so much into it, but he always, always called me baby.
l hoped I was reading too much into it.
“So, was that your mystery girl?” Robin said to me as she wiggled her eyebrows.
I rolled my eyes at her.
“She’s not my mystery girl. She’s my girlfriend that I don’t want to drag into all this shit.” I said- gesturing around the set up we had for the next crawl.
“She shouldn’t- she doesn’t need to be involved in this. The less I bring her around- the less she figures out.”
“That sounds like a great plan.” Johnathon spit out sarcasticly.
“Why’s that, Byers?”
“Well, for starters, you’re blatantly lying to her. You’re lying to us too man. Just because you don’t want her to know about the upside down doesn’t mean we can’t meet her.” Jonathon told me.
“It would be nice to at least know her, Steve. I mean I didn’t even know her name.” Robin stated as she agreed with Johnathon.
“For what it’s worth Steve, I think you’re doing the right thing.” Nancy spoke out softly.
I raised an eyebrow at her. She sighed out before she continued.
“I mean, if I had somebody that I loved as much as you loved her, I would also want to keep them out of this. I couldn’t really control Jonathon’s involvement in this, but if I could have it my way? I would keep him as far away from it as possible.” She continued on, the love she had for Jonathon shining in her words.
“Just make sure it doesn’t drive a wedge between you two Steve.” She added on to her statement.
“Sure- that’s sweet and all- but I mean I practically know everything about this girl from how much Steve talks about her, but I didn’t even know her name up until five minutes ago.” Robin said, a playful smile illuminating her face.
“I’m just saying Steve-o, maybe there’s a way for us to know her without getting her involved with the other stuff.” Robin added on.
Of course I wanted them to know her. They would adore her, just like how I do. The way she sees the good in everyone, the way she always looks out for people she barely knows. She’s kind, she’s the kindest person I’ve ever met.
But I care more about her being safe than I do her knowing my friends.
But I just let myself indulge in the fantasy, just for a second. Her and Robin would love eachother, I would probaly have to fight Robin off for her attention. Dustin would probaly start to like her more than he likes me. Nancy would adore her, she would finally have somebody around that’s as smart as her.
I was being selfish, I knew I was. I was lying to her, pushing her away, because the last thing I wanted was for her to figure out the truth. But I was also holding onto her, because I just couldn’t bring myself to walk away.
I never meant for it to end up this way. I was never looking for anything serious- espically not when the world seemed to be ending every five minutes.
But she- she just walked in. Or more like got stuck. She was visiting a friend of hers over break, and she got stuck in the quarantine. She wasn’t even from Hawkins.
And she was also everything I could have ever wanted.
It started out casual. I knew I couldn’t get so emotionally attached- not when we were so busy trying to stop Vecna.
But I couldn’t walk away. I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. She was just, so amazing. The kind of person I could have only dreamt of- the kind of person I could have only prayed for, and I wasn’t even religious. Maybe God did play favorites.
“Yeah- yeah. Maybe. Someday.” I told them.
“Well- with how much you talk about her it feels like we already know her pretty well.” Robin said to me.
“Yeah- like how her favorite fruits are pomegranates but she can never find any since the quarantine which is why you’re always asking Murray to get you some.” Johnathon said, to add on to Robins point.
“Or that she has a white cat named snuggles, that you really don’t get along with.” Nancy added on.
“Or that she hates Halloween but loves New years.” Robin chimed in to the two.
“Okay! Okay! I get it, I get it, I’ll bring her around sometime.” I said, holding up my hands in mock surrender.
Robin squealed slightly and squeezed Nancy’s shoulders while Nancy smiled and Johnathon nodded his head in approval.
“I’m finally gonna get to met the girl who’s turned my best friend, and former player Steve Harrington, into a total love bug!” Robin said to me teasingly as she patted my shoulder.
Steve’s body was on top of me as he left a trail of hot messy kisses down my neck, sure to leave mark the next day.
“Missed you- missed you so, so goddamn much- thought, thought about you all day”
He pressed his hand against my lower stomach and moved his hand down to cup my clothed pussy.
“Thought about this pussy all day, all for me, all mine” he whispered lowly in my ear as he moved his hand back up to start unbuttoning my top.
He moved his lips back up to my collarbone and sucked gently before the unpleasant and grating sound of his phone started to ring.
With a groan, Steve pushed himself off the couch and walked over to the phone, his erection shown clearly in his pants.
“Yes, okay-okay- slow, slow down. I’ll be right over.” Steve said into the phone, worry lacing his every word.
He hurriedly ran to grab his keys, and threw on some sort of jacket, not even taking the time to explain what was so goddamn urgent.
“Steve, Steve- where, where are you going?” I asked him, instinctively reaching out for him.
“I’m so- I’m so sorry baby, Robin and Dustin really need- really need me right now.” Steve spoke out, rushing towards the door.
“Steve- Steve wait. Wait!” I said to him as I pushed myself off the coach and reached for his wrist.
“Do you want me to come with you? Maybe I can help- if it really is that urgent you’re gonna need all the help you can get”.
“No. No- I need you to stay here.” Steve spoke out to me, a firm tone telling me that was the final word.
“What- what could be so urgent that you need to leave now- but you don’t need my help?” I stated, exasperated by Steve’s lack of explanation.
“I just- I can’t, I can’t tell you that right now. I’m so sorry.” Steve told me, and I could tell he was truly sorry.
But I also knew that I was truly exhausted. Exhausted of always having to read his mind. Exhausted of never knowing what I was gonna get. Exhausted of always being an after thought to him.
“Are you kidding me, Steve? Are you actually being serious?” I said, stomping my foot in the ground like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
“I am so- I am so tired of this, Steve! You act like I’m some afterthought, and you will just abandon me for your friends in a goddamn millisecond.”
“I am so, so sorry baby.”
And then he ran out the door and slammed it behind him.
“You are hopeless, Steve! Truly hopeless.” Max told me, shaking her head in disappointment.
“What the hell was I supposed to do? Bring her with me? Tell her I was going to fight inter-dimensional monsters? In case you forgot max, I’m trying to keep her as far away from this shit as possible!” I told max.
“Okay, sure, I understand that. But still Steve, running out on her like that is truly a new low. Even for you.” Nancy stated, agreeing with Max.
“I know, I know. But, I mean god. I just, can’t I just be selfish? Can’t I just want to keep her as far away as possible from this?” I asked my friends, genuinely seeking their advice.
“I mean, I’ve never met anyone like her before. She’s so kind, so incredibly kind. And she’s the most giving person I’ve ever met- like she would give the clothes on her body to somebody else if they needed them.” I downed on, looking to my friends, reading their confused expressions.
“My point is- she doesn’t deserve this. Max, you were in a coma for months. Nancy, your whole family almost died a few nights ago. And I was tortured by a bunch of evil Russians. I don’t want her to have to go through anything like that. Not ever. She’s too good for that- too good for all of this.”
Nancy and Max nodded sympathetically at me. I knew they understood. If Nancy could have it her way, she would have never gotten Holly involved. And Max lost Billy because of his involvement.
“Well, then maybe you need to stop being selfish. You either need to tell her the truth, or let her go.” Max added on.
“It’s unfair to keep dragging her along like this, it would drive anyone insane.” Nancy said, agreeing with Max’s’ statement.
It felt like my lungs were caving in just at the mere mention of letting her go. Like somebody was squeezing my heart through my chest. Did it really have to be one or the other? Why couldn’t- why couldn’t things just kept going on the way they were?
“But- maybe you don’t need to tell her the whole truth. Maybe just, baby steps. Start with introducing her to us first.” Nancy said sympathetically.
“Yeah- with how much we’ve heard about her, I’d love to finally put a name to the face.” Max told me.
I nodded at them, finally starting to see the vision in my head. Maybe introducing her to them didn’t have to be this big scary commotion.
Maybe I was just scared of having to share her with them.
It was 2 in the morning when Steve came pounding on my apartment door.
I opened the door slowly, still barefoot and only wearing one of his shirts.
His eyes were puffy and had a red underlining. His hair was disheveled and messy- a strict contrast to the perfectly styled hair he always wore like a mask.
He was holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand, a collection of purple, yellow and pink all wrapped in brown paper.
“You can’t just get me flowers and expect all to be well again.”
“I know.”
“I’m still angry with you.”
“I know.”
“Just because I’m letting you come in doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
“I know.”
I opened the door wider for him and allowed him to follow me inside the apartment.
He set the flowers down on my kitchen counter before he came and stood in front of me. He reached out for me, and then carefully retreated his large hand back to his side, like one touch could send everything out of balance.
So he settled for dropping to his knees instead. He settled onto his knees on the old wood floor, now making him eye level with my stomach. He reached out and set one of his hands in my hip, and the other one he gently slipped under my shit and slid it up my stomach.
Even when I was so, so angry with him- I still couldn’t deny how devastatingly beautiful he was.
He rested his head right above the area above my belly button- and I instinctively moved my hand to run it through his hair.
“I am- so, so incredibly sorry.” He spoke out as he kissed my stomach gently.
“I shouldn’t- I’m gonna try to be more open, it just, it just scares me so much angel.”
I didn’t know what to say. Here he was, on his knees apologizing, but actions do speak louder than words.
“Steve- I just, I can’t with the secrecy anymore. I can’t keep putting myself through it.”
“I know, I know baby.” Steve said as he kept gently kissing my stomach. He began moving his hands up and down my skirt- lightly pushing it up as he moved his hands up and down.
“Can I just- can I just please make it up to you baby?” He said, resting his chin on my stomach- looking up at me with this big glossy brown eyes.
I nodded twice before he was on me. He made quick work of pushing my skirt up and reaching one of his long fingers into the hem of my underwear and pulling it down until they hit the middle of my thighs.
One thing about Steve Harrington, he was most definitely great at eating pussy.
He moved his head to be right below my clit, and he immediately dove in like a man starved.
“You taste- so good, can never- ever get enough of you.” I think I heard him say.
But honestly, every thing just sounded like white noise when he got to work.
He quickly stood to his full height, just to bend down slightly and wrap my legs around his waist with ease and set me down on the marble of my kitchen counter.
“What- what are you doing-“
He grabbed me by the sides of my thighs and placed my legs on the tops of my shoulder and pulled me back towards his mouth.
He used the muscle of his tongue to move quickly around my clit, and bringing his lips up to it to suck on it gently.
“Oh god, oh Jesus, oh my god Steve.” I moaned out as I gripped onto the brown locks of his hair and pulled him closer.
“I know- I know angel, you’re doing so good- being so so good for me.”
He suddenly brought his mouth away from me and looked up to my eyes. He looked ruined. Starved, desperate.
“Do you forgive me baby, can you please just say you forgive me baby?”
“Yes- yes Steve I forgive you, just please- please keep going.”
That was all it took for him to move back towards my pussy and start using the wet muscle of his tongue again- like a man starved
“Your so- so beautiful angel. Too beautiful for me. Much too beautiful for me.” Steve said as he continued to suck gently on my clit.
“Steve- oh Steve.” I moaned out, feeling my release start to build quickly.
“That’s it, angel. Give it to me honey.” Steve said as he continued to suck harder on my clit.
“Oh- oh my god!” I practically screamed out as I rocked back and grinded on his face, trying to make the orgasm last on for as long as possible.
Steve gently pulled my underwear back up my legs with two of his long fingers and then gently pulled my skirt back down, looking impossibly smug.
He took my legs gently and set them back down on the edge of the marble counter - all while I was still struggling to catch my breath.
He ran a hair through his messy hair while he rested his arms on both sides of my legs and leaned in towards me, trapping me in his space.
“We good now?” He said, with a smug smirk lacing his face.
I jutted my lip out at him and turned my cheek to him.
“Oh cmon baby- just kiss me, just one kiss, just wanna taste you.” He said as his fingers started to creep up my sides and attempted to pull me closer to him.
I crossed my arms across my chest and kept my head turned away from him as he kept kissing around my face messily, trying to get to my lips.
I just kept moving my face away from his lips- playfully swatting at his chest in a lazy attempt to get him away. While he just let a cocky smile take over his face while he reached one of his hands to my lower back and pulled me closer to him.
“I just made you cum on my tongue and you wont even give me a kiss? Seems pretty unfair baby.” Steve said to me, poking his bottom lip to add to the show.
I finally turned my face so that I was looking at him now- and he still had that stupid smug expression on his face.
He leaned in closer, pouting his mouth out slightly for a kiss while I leaned away from him.
Steve got the hint and paused just centimeters away from my mouth.
“What? You still mad at me angel?” Steve said while he titled his head to the right.
“I don’t know. Give me a reason to kiss you Harrington.” I said while I smiled at him.
Steve let out a playful scoff before he leaned in closer and kissed my nose quickly.
“Well.. y’know there’s this nice restaurant called Enzo’s on the other side of town- and I was thinking, if you weren’t too busy, you would go with me? Tomorrow night? I’ll pick you up at 8?” Steve asked me, seeming more like a plan than a question.
“Now that’s a reason to kiss you.” I said as I gently laced my fingers in the collar of his shirt and brought him to my lips.
Steve had made good on his promise- he was over at my apartment at 8 o’clock - sharp.
I didn’t know the dress code for Enzo’s- but I knew I would rather be overdressed than underdressed. So, I slipped on a navy dress with a a tight bust but a flowy end, and was just short enough to be considered slightly scandalous.
I opened the door to my apartment and was meet with the face of a dumbfounded Steve Harrington- holding another bouquet. This one was an arrangement of white and blue flowers, wrapped in the same brown paper.
Steve’s jaw went slack. His eyes widened and his head leaned back, the whites of his irises on full display. His grip on the flowers loosened- and they threatened to hit the ground.
I reached out and grabbed them from his hand as I cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Steve- the last pair of flowers isn’t even dead yet.” I said- while I walked into my apartment and reached to grab a vase for the new pair of flowers.
As I reached into the cabinets to grab a vase for the flowers, I felt Steve’s arm wrap around my waist.
He locked his arms over each other as he wrapped his arms around his waist- preventing me from leaving his space.
“You truly are, the most beautiful woman I have ever met.” Steve said reverently, kissing my neck gently.
“Steve..” I said as I dipped my head down to hide the blush infiltrating my cheeks.
“I’m being serious, honey. You could have any person you wanted, I don’t even know why your with me. Seriously, I don’t.” Steve said, trying to play it off as a joke, but I could hear the insecurity hiding in his words.
“Well- I don’t want anybody else, I want you.” I said softly, turning around to kiss his cheek quickly before I grabbed his bicep and let him lead us to his Beamer in the parking lot of my apartment complex.
Once we arrived at Enzos, I was suddenly grateful for the dress I was wearing. It was clearly the nicest restaurant Hawkins had to offer.
Steve had gotten a booth in the back of the restaurant, mainly just so he could touch me whiteout the worry of judging eyes.
He had one arm wrapped around my shoulders, and the other sitting on my thigh that he had pulled over one of his legs.
He was rambling on about some problem- how the military was too involved in the quarantine, while I just ran my fingers through his hair, trying to listen intently to his problem.
And in that moment, I couldn’t ever remember what I was angry with him about.
But that didn’t last long.
Two boys suddenly sat on the other end of the booth from us. One of them was tall and lanky with dark hair, while the other one was shorter and stockier with tall hair.
“Steve- steve I know, I know we said we wouldn’t bother you tonight, but- but we really need you.” The one with tall hair said, attempting to catch his breath.
“Something, something went really- really wrong at the crawl tonight. We need you to drive us to my house.” The lanky one with black hair said.
“Please Steve, we need you. Dustin needs you.” The stockier one said.
Steve pulled his hands off my body and paused slightly before he immediately grabbed his keys and began walking out of the restaurant.
“Let’s go.” He said to the two boys, as if I was made out of thin air.
“Steve, Steve wait!” I said to Steve as I grabbed onto his forearm.
Steve looked down at me with a guilty expression on his face- as if he had just remembered I was there.
“Go. Take my keys and start the car” Steve said to the two boys as he threw his keys to them. The two boys nodded at him before they rushed out to his car.
“Baby- i am so, so sorry. But my friends need me.” Steve said as he took a step towards me and cradled my face.
“Steve, Steve are you being serious?” I said to him while he quickly leaned forward and kissed my forehead.
He began to walk out of the restaurant and then I knew. I knew I couldn’t do this anymore.
I couldn’t keep waiting for him to make up his mind. I couldn’t keep waiting for him to let me in all the way. I couldn’t with the secrets, the lying, never letting me all the way in.
Steve was halfway across the restaurant when I told him.
“Steve, if you walk out that door, this relationship is over.”
Steve’s whole body seemed to freeze. He turned his head behind his shoulder, only turning partly.
“I am so- so sorry angel.”
And then he left.
He walked out the door and started his car and began to drive off.
Leaving me alone, stranded, and newly single.
notes: EEEK I am so happy with this!! I hope you guys loved it just as much as I did. Trust me, part two will be happier!!
CW - best friends to lovers, unprotected s*x , threes0me , oral (m! And f! Receiving) , s*x while intoxicated, w33d , dub-con kinda bc of substances, rough sex, choking , dom!eddie & Steve , sub!reader , may have forgotten some
A/n - not proof read
Masterlist
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹ ⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹ ⊹₊ ˚‧
The tension was palpable as you, steve and Eddie were sat around the TV. You had all been smoking and drinking all night with Robin and Nancy till they left a little while ago. Now the three of you were sat around comfortably cross faded, trying to ignore the looks you gave each other.
You Eddie and steve were all best friends, best friends that sometimes kissed a little, best friends that made out when they were high maybe. But that was it, just friends.
But tonight it all felt different, you pretended not to notice the way Steve’s eyes watched your legs in your tiny shorts every time you moved and the way Eddies eyes drifted back to your tits every few minutes.
They did the same for you, ignoring the way you bit your lip when they moved their arms and flexed, or when you caught a glimpse of their obvious hard one in their jeans.
It’s Eddie that breaks the tension, lighting up a joint from his pocket. “Cmere sweetheart, shotgun with us.” He says, taking a look at steve and seemingly getting the answer he needed, looking away to pull up up and into his lap.
You let him move you as he inhales on the joint, ignoring the sound of steve shifting from his chair onto the small couch next to you. He wraps a hand over the back of your neck and pulls you in, exhaling into your parted lips.
You inhale and go to move away, instead he pulls against you harder, pulling your mouth against his properly. You don’t fight him, falling against him properly as your hands move to his hair.
“Hey now, don’t forget about me.” Steve says from beside you, eddies hand moving away for Steve’s to thread through your hair. He turns you towards him still in Eddies lap and connects your lips, licking into your mouth and taking dominance easily. You let out a gasp against his mouth when you feel Eddie press kisses anywhere he could find skin, littering you with marks.
“Here steve.” Eddie interrupts your make out session to press his own lips against steve, exhaling smoke into his mouth before starting to kiss him as well.
The sight just made you wetter in eddies lap, your hips grinding subconsciously over his jeans in desperate search of friction.
“Aw, I think our princess is needy hm?” Eddie chuckles, pulling away from steve slightly to look you up and down. “You want us both baby?” He asks, already knowing the answer as you whine in his lap.
“Aw, needy baby for us hm? Relax for us love, we will make you feel good.” Steve says, taking the joint from Eddie to his own lips, inhaling slowly as he moves a hand to your hip, thumb running over the exposed skin where your shirt has risen up.
You accept the joint that’s held infront of you eagerly and giggle when Eddie picks you up still in his lap. “As much fun as the couch may be tonight is for the bed.” He says, biting into your shoulder when your core rubs against his length through his jeans.
You land on the bed with a thump as Eddie drops you. Steve on one side and him on the other staring at you for a moment, taking in your already half gone look.
“Aw baby, you look ruined an we haven’t even gotten our cocks out yet, can’t wait to fuck you dumb sweet thing.” Eddies teasing you as he strips, peeling away his shirt quickly prompting steve to do the same.
You start to do the same, fumbling with your thin tee shirt when Steve is grabbing it for you, pulling it up and over your head with ease as Eddie tugged your shorts down.
“God your so pretty baby, so wet for us too.” Steve remarks, running his fingers through your folds.
“Who do you want first baby?” Eddie asks but you already know the answer you should be giving, Eddie first. You could tell Steve wanted to fuck your mouth anyway.
You struggle trying to get the words out, looking at Eddie with pleading wide eyes. “Yeah okay doll, so out of it and you’re still empty, adorable.” He chuckles quietly, watching Steve tap his cock against your lips, gaining your attention easily.
“That’s it baby, be good for us.” Steve speaks, watching as his cock slides into your mouth slowly then looking over to see Eddie sliding himself inside you so you were filled everywhere.
His eyes roll back as you moan around his cock, the feeling of him down your throat and your other boyfriend filling you up entirely overwhelming causing you to gag around the intrusion down your throat.
“Fuck I missed this pussy baby, so wet for us huh?” Eddie speaks breathless as he fucks into you, mouth half occupied sucking marks into your skin.
You can only give him a muffled moan in response but it’s enough for him. “Want you to cum for me baby, cum on my cock with another shoved down your throat like a good girl.” His words bring you closer and closer to the edge and when a hand reached between you and Eddie to start rubbing circles on your clit it all gets too much.
Your vision goes white as your jaw slacks fully, your back bowing up pressing your neck against eddies face where he had littered it with bites and hickeys. “Good girl, such a good girl for us.” Steve groans as you swallow around him again, forcing his own release down your throat while Eddie filled your pussy with an inhuman growl.
“God baby you always do so good for us.” Eddie murmurs as you all start slowly coming down. Steve freeing himself from your mouth and laying down next to you and Eddie.
You whine as Eddie pulls out of you slowly, shifting off to the side so he could curl around you properly as you settle. Your thoughts are interrupted however when you feel warm breath fan over your pussy, and before you could do anything Steve was licking straight through your folds, teasing your clit gently when you gasped, your scream muffled by Eddie slotting his lips against yours.
Steve groans into your pussy, the vibrations of his voice sending a bold of lightning through you again. You can feel him smiling as you go ridged in his hold on your thighs. Eddie continues making out with you, letting his hands roam freely, occasionally coming up to your throat and just holding it there, as if to remind you who’s in charge.
“You think we weren’t going to get as much of you as we could the night we finally made our move? You’re not gonna remember your name by sunrise.” Eddie speaks as though it’s a threat but you really can’t wait.
You let Steve go down on you like a man starved as Eddie learnt what really made you melt, he picked up that you would turn into butter on a warm summers day if he just left his hand on your throat, maybe squeezing every now and then.
Steve really did act like a man starved, pulling your second then third orgasm from you, each hitting harder than the last. Eventually your crying from everything going on around you, tears only fuling them on as they tease you for how wrecked you look, as if they look any better.
“Think you can take Steve’s cock baby? Let him fill you up hm?” Eddie asks, turning your head to look at him before you nod, too dumb to form words. “Such a good girl baby.” Eddie smoothed a thumb over your jaw, tracing over your lips and pressing inside gently, prompting you to suck. Only making eddies eyes blow wider as you brought it further in your mouth as Steve filled you up with his cock.
“So fucking wet princess fuck, feel me right here inside you huh? So good f’me sweetheart.” Steve mumbles, dragging his cock in and out of you listening to the obscene noises that came from you.
Your orgasm creeps up far too soon, between Steve thrusting in and out of you and Eddie turning you into playdough underneath him you feel yourself snap again, clenching down on the heavy cock inside you, forcing Steve’s own release as Eddie leans up to kiss him, pressing you down with a hand on your jaw as two fingers pressed themselves inside your mouth.
The scene is so hot that you barely notice the gush coming from between your legs until Steve is pulling out. “Fuck we made her squirt.” Eddies voice rumbled but it felt so far away, all you wanted was to fade into the darkness. As if he sensed it he leans over you, smiling when he sees how gone you look. “Sleep pretty thing, we’ll clean you up.” He murmurs, moving your hair out of your face.
You didn’t need any more prompting, letting your eyes fall close as you feel a damp warm cloth press against your stomach.
husband!steve harrington letting you ride your frustration out on his cock <3
husband!stevie, who lets you fuck your stress out bouncing on his dick <333 praising you about how beautiful you look bouncing on it and how much he loves you when you’re frustrated.
husband!stevie, who lets you have your own rhythm above him, only with his hands on your hips; not to guide you or smth, to have his hands on you.
husband!stevie, who is a mess when he hears you angrily ramble about how bad your day was, because he loves seeing you angry.
husband!stevie, who adores when your nails rudely dig into his chest, and carries them around like a proud man afterwards.
husband!stevie, who sweetly says, “it’s okay honey.. take all you need baby, all you want.” “yeah, fuck! you’re doing it s-so well” while sweetly caressing your waist or your thighs.
husband!steve, who has you wrapped on his arms after sex, stroking your back up and down, kissing your temple. “thank you baby, i love you” “i love you too, mad woman”.
you couldn't stop thinking about robin's comment. and well... curiosity killed the cat. or, more accurately, demolished your cat in a storage closet
bet u wanna read my masterlist! ── .✦ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
pairing: steven harrington x fem!reader
warnings: fem!reader, smut, p in v, dick-induced psychosis, public-ish sex, closet sex, pwp with feelings, oral thoughts no action, dirty talk, blasphemy in the name of science praise kink, fingering, penetrative sex, no condom usage (DONTTTTTTTTT), twinkie (i refuse to say creampie), humiliation kink but it’s just reader embarrassing herself, reader gets high on hypothetical dick, robin haunts this fic like a ghost of horny instigation
prompt: here!
wc: 4.3k (maria shut the fuck up challenge)
“Steve hears that all the time and he goes in anyway, don’t ya Steve?”
You wish there were a drug (prescription, over-the-counter, homemade in a bathtub, you’re not picky) that could hose the last twenty-four hours clean out of your brain. Like a mental Clorox bomb. Rip the wallpaper off. Burn the couch. Scrub the inside of your skull until you couldn’t recall your own name, let alone that sentence.
The one currently rerouting every single one of your thoughts back to Steve Fucking Harrington and the inadvisable fixation on whatever situation he’s got going on in his Levi’s.
Incredible. Gold-star behavior. You should be on a watchlist.
You splash cold water on your face as if it’s holy, hoping it’ll scald the thoughts right out of you if you’re devout enough about it.
It doesn’t. If anything, now you’re just damp and distracted.
You scrape your hair into a ponytail with trembling hands, snaring your fingers on knots you don’t have the patience to untangle. Your reflection meets you in the mirror with narrowed eyes and a contempt so sharp it could peel paint.
Maybe it’s fine. This is just textbook human behavior.
Curiosity kept the species alive, didn’t it? Curiosity made fire, built tools, landed on the moon. You just… redirected it. A little. Preoccupation plus sleep deprivation equals temporary psychosis.
And Steve Harrington’s size is just an equation you haven’t solved yet. That’s all.
However, your brain doesn’t want the excuses you’re giving yourself. It wants contact. And the second you try to intellectualize it, it slips the leash, teeth bared, wrecking itself on imagery and impulse and the sheer kinetic force of your own dumb, dumb hunger.
You know what he was like in high school. Or what he was supposed to be like, if the teenage hivemind was to be believed. House parties every Friday. Cheap beer on his breath. Pretty girls folded into the backseat of his car.
You barely spoke, back then. Might never have, if not for the apocalypse flattening the social hierarchy and parking you two side-by-side in survival’s waiting room.
There’s something kind of poetic about that, if you squint.
And yeah, with a reputation like that, it’s not exactly shocking to imagine he’s got... experience. The rumors made sure of it. Especially the ones that got real creative below the belt.
You open the bathroom door too fast. Before your heartbeat has settled, before your mind has purged even a fraction of the things you just let yourself picture.
Terrible, wonderful things involving you and him and way less clothing.
You step out with heat still coiled under your skin, eyes unfocused, and crash straight into him.
Hard. Chest to face. His chest, your face.
The impact should’ve knocked the thoughts clean out of your head. But they just double in volume. Multiply like gremlins.
You’re ninety percent sure he’s looking straight into your frontal lobe and watching the mental porn reel on loop.
“Shit, sorry — I was just, um, doing the cold-water-to-the-face thing. That’s why I’m wet. My face, I mean.” You motion to your cheeks, as if this will clarify anything. “Not because I’m sweating. I mean, I am sweating, but not — okay, that’s not important. Anyway. Didn’t mean to, uh, crash into you.”
“Whoa, hey, you’re fine,” he says, all gentle grin and slow hands, like he’s trying to calm a skittish animal. He leans in instead of backing up, tilts his head. “You alright? You’re burning up.” His knuckles skim your cheek. “What were you doing in there, running laps?”
Your heart might stop. Or rupture. Or just melt into a little puddle and drip out of your ear, leaving behind a chalk outline and a puff of smoke.
His touch is so steady, so casual, it makes your own body feel uninhabitable.
“I’m okay,” you blurt. “I mean, I’m warm, but I’m always warm. Homeostasis, you know? Higher basal body temperature.” You blink. “Not sick, though. No fever. I checked. Not checked, but I’d know. Probably. I think.”
Steve studies you for a second longer than necessary before his hand falls away. The cool air rushes in where he was, and you almost flinch.
“You sure?” he asks, brow pinched. “You look kinda…” He stops himself. Swallows. “Never mind.”
His fingers move to his belt, fidgeting without thinking, you’re sure. You follow the motion like he’s got you on a string, and you're the world's most suggestible puppet.
His jeans are tight. Unreasonably so.
Is this new? Has he always looked like that? Or are you simply being punished? Because your thoughts are not kind anymore. They are filthy and frantic and belt-shaped.
“I’m fine. I promise. Seriously. Don’t start psychoanalyzing me.”
“Right,” he says, lips twitching like he almost smiles. “Just saying, you’ve been a little… scarce. Thought maybe you were avoiding me.”
Your foot pivots, heel to toe, heel to toe. “No, I’m not avoiding you. Why would I —?”
And there it is. The stumble. The dead end.
“Good question. Why would you?”
“I wasn’t!” you say too fast. “I just… figured if I gave you space, it’d keep things from getting…” You wince. Shit. “I mean, no. I wasn’t avoiding you, really.”
Steve leans back against the wall like it was built just for him, arms crossed, smirk dialed up to lethal.
“Yeah?” he says. “Because from where I’m standing, it looked a lot like someone running scared.”
“I just think it’s completely fair to occasionally take space, okay?” you ramble, hands flailing. “Sometimes people just need time. Alone. To recalibrate. It’s healthy. Especially if, hypothetically, someone maybe said something that stuck in your head like a thumbtack and now you can’t stop thinking about it, and it might not even true but it feels true, and —”
“What feels true?”
You try to reroute. Hit the emergency eject. Say literally anything that doesn’t involve Robin or Steve or his dick size.
Your mouth moves, but nothing intelligent follows.
“I — uh.” Good start. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid. It’s — wow, I’m bad at this.”
You don’t specify what this is. You pray he doesn’t ask.
But then his brow twitches, just a little. And his eyes widen with that soft, dooming interest that means he’s put something together.
“This is about what Robin said.”
You choke on the inhale. “What? No.”
Steve actually looks sorry for you.
It’s worse than laughter. Worse than death. It’s in the eyes, the little tilt of his head, the amused pinch of his lips like he’s fighting the urge to ruffle your hair and tell you to sit this one out.
“Jesus,” he says, grinning. “You might be the worst liar I’ve ever seen.”
“I wasn’t — I haven’t been, like, dwelling on it or anything.”
“If it’s been keeping you up at night,” he murmurs, almost innocently, “I could just tell you. Might help you sleep.”
You cover your face with both hands. “Please stop talking.”
“What?” he laughs. “You’ve got questions, sweetheart. I’ve got answers. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“I don’t!” you say, voice pitching an octave too high. “I do not have questions. Maybe — okay, fine — maybe I had a thought. Singular. One unit of mental disturbance. But that’s not the same thing, and I definitely don’t need answers, because answers imply interest, and I’m not interested. I’m so far from interested.”
“So you’re telling me, just for the record, that there’s zero interest in whether or not Robin was exaggerating... or proof she wasn't?”
You immediately take a step back like his words physically shoved you.
“You can’t — don’t say things like that. You can’t say things like that.”
He follows anyway. A goddamn golden retriever walking into the flames, all softness and sunlight, warmth invading every inch of your body like light through the blinds.
He smells like vanilla and ocean wind and the kind of summer you only remember in snapshots. Melting popsicles. Sweat-slick heat. Grass stains on your shins.
Your gaze dips to the slope of his collarbone, to the tiny freckle just beneath it.
You think about mouthing over it like it’s the last clean sin left in the world.
“Why not?”
“I — because.”
“That’s not an answer.” He takes a half step. “You sure you don’t want to know?”
“I’m sure I don’t need your charity.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is this?”
“This is me giving you the chance to just ask,” he murmurs. “Because I think you’ve want to.”
“I just don’t want you to think I’m…” You trail off, suddenly unsure what the ending of that sentence is. What? Pathetic? Presumptuous? Clingy in that skin-crawling, middle school way? “It’s embarrassing, okay?” you say instead, voice barely above a whisper. “So if you’re being nice, stop. Please.”
“Do you really think I’d be standing here if I didn’t want to be?” he says. “That I’d be — what? Entertaining you out of pity?”
“I don’t know, maybe?” you say, hands flying up. “You’ve always been nice to me, Steve, and maybe that’s just a you thing, maybe you’re just pathologically polite and constitutionally incapable of making a clean exit from a conversation because you’re scared of being rude and I get that, I really do, but I’m kind of a lot, like, objectively, and sometimes I can’t tell —”
He leans in and kisses you.
The moment detonates, no warning or countdown, just pure combustion, like his mouth struck the match and you were already soaked in gasoline.
Or maybe it dissolves instead, maybe it disappears entirely and takes you with it, because suddenly there’s nothing solid left to stand on.
Your thoughts scatter in every direction, slippery, clattering out of reach before you can grab onto even one of them. Maybe it’s relief, or maybe it’s panic, or maybe it’s both in equal measure tangled so tightly you can’t separate them, because the kiss doesn’t feel sweet or soft or safe.
It feels like something that’s been waiting. Pacing. Burning its way through the walls of his chest until it finally found a way out through your mouth.
This isn’t a kiss you’ll bounce back from. This isn’t a kiss you can shrug off later or file under harmless flirtation, Steve being Steve, like always. Because this is not harmless. This is not casual. This is not anything close to friendly.
It’s blistering. It’s possessive. It’s entirely incompatible with every version of this relationship you’ve tried to pretend was normal.
Your brain blanks. Your lungs forget how to function. You can’t even remember what you were saying before your mouth is full of heat and your brain is full of him, and all the polite categories you sorted him into are collapsing like paper in the rain.
No one kisses like this out of pity.
He pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes drag over your face like he’s assessing the wreckage, seeing what parts of you still work.
You’re flushed. Breathless. Somewhere between euphoric and humiliated and already hungry for more.
“You talk too much,” he says, almost fondly. But his eyes catch on your mouth, and the way they darken doesn’t feel fond at all. “Maybe I should keep kissing you until you forget how to speak.”
His thumb traces your lip like he’s considering biting it next.
You blink past him, looking anywhere that isn’t his mouth or his eyes or his neck or the absolutely devastating angle of his jaw, because you’re pretty sure if you keep staring at him, you’re going to forget basic laws of human decency. And public indecency.
Like Joyce Byers walking out of the breakroom with a mug that says “World’s Best Mom” and catching you looking like a couple of hormonal teenagers in the AV room.
“Steve,” you whisper, half-mortified, half-dizzy. “We can’t just make out in the hallway.”
“Then let me take you somewhere we can.”
You nod before the sentence even fully lands, a reflexive, eager little movement that tells on you immediately. So much for playing it cool. So much for dignity.
He doesn’t comment on it, thank the gods, but he does capitalize on it, fingers already hooking into your wrist as he pulls you backward, mouth never quite leaving yours, like he’s discovered a loophole in reality where consequences can’t reach him as long as he keeps kissing you.
The hallway blurs, your awareness narrowing to the press of his body and the sound of a closet door being located purely by faith.
“You know,” he mumbles, voice rough and amused between kisses, “there’s a middle ground between unresolved sexual tension and closet makeouts, but clearly we skipped it.”
You giggle helplessly against his mouth. “You’re the one who kissed me!”
“Mmhm.” He presses another kiss to the corner of your smile. “And look at that —” kiss “— still doing it. Can’t seem to stop.”
There’s a clever comeback balancing precariously on the edge of your tongue, but it never makes it past your lips because his tongue gets there first, hot and shameless, swallowing the thought whole as he presses you back, deeper, until your spine meets cinderblock and your heel kicks something papery and hollow that might’ve once been a box but is now a casualty of lust.
The sound is distant. Muffled. Everything is. Except him. Except the way his fingers, practically dipped in snow, slip beneath your shirt, finding your hips to flatten against the give of flesh.
Your body jerks toward him like a tide you don’t remember starting. He meets you halfway, grinding in slow and steady, the thick ridge of his jeans dragging across your thigh but not there, not where you actually need him.
You know that smile. You can feel it ghosting across your mouth, equal parts smug and merciless.
You brace one hand on his shoulder like you might push him back, but it’s a lie. You just need something to hold onto.
“You’re being mean.”
“Thought I was nice,” he murmurs, not even bothering to hide the grin stretching across his face. “That’s what you said, right? ‘You’ve always been nice to me, Steve.’” His hand drags slow over your waist, inching lower. “Funny how quick your definition changes when you don’t get what you want.”
“You’re twisting my words on purpose.”
“Maybe.” His hand palms your ass, full and greedy, and a faint noise punches out of you. “Or maybe I’m just demonstrating,” he says then rolls his hips forward until the you feel the line of his length presssing right against you through the fabric of your skirt. “People wouldn’t keep saying things if there wasn’t something to back it up.”
Oh.
Well. That clears that up. No more half-smiles or “wouldn’t you like to know” bullshit, no more overheard rumors or vague commentary from people who’ve allegedly seen things, because now you’ve seen things.
Now you’ve felt things. Not secondhand or exaggerated or imagined, but actual, firsthand, physically-verifiable evidence currently pressing against you like an anatomical threat.
He’s hard. Through the layers. Thick and hot and very, very real. So real it’s bordering on impolite.
You don’t understand how he’s just… lived like this. Walked around. Sat next to you. Carried on entire conversations with that much potential sitting in his pants. It’s inhumane.
You want to help. You want to unzip, unburden, atone. You want him in your hand, in your mouth, carved into every version of your imagination like an overdue upgrade.
And you’re going to make that happen. Even if your brain’s just looping ohmygodohmygodohmygod like a broken fire alarm.
“M’wanna see,” you mumble, voice dipped in sugar and challenge and please.
Your hand slips down before you can even finish the thought, trembling with the kind of anticipation usually reserved for Christmas mornings and divine interventions.
You find his belt blindly, drag your knuckles over the stiff leather like it might melt under your palms, and start working at it with a kind of frantic desperation.
But it’s hard, and he’s big, and your fingers are trembling, and the buckle just won’t —
“C’mere,” he says softly, catching your wrist before you can make it worse. His fingers brush yours as he takes over, the buckle opening instantly under his hands like it’s been waiting for him specifically. “So eager, aren’t you?”
“‘S not my fault,” you whisper, almost defensively.
You’re not even trying to play it cool anymore. Because you’re not. Cool, that is. You’re boiling. Bubbling. Practically vibrating with need.
You are eager. Ridiculously so.
“Not your fault,” he echoes, voice gone hoarse. “No, baby. I did this, didn’t I?”
He hums in his throat, hands drifting up your thighs. His fingernail grazes a scar, a stretch mark, a patch of skin you’ve never liked. He draws absent little shapes that make you twitch. One circle. Then another.
You open your mouth to respond, but nothing coherent makes it out, just your own shallow breathing, tangled in vowels.
Your hands are trying to get into his pants, trying to do something, but it’s all angles and nerves.
You get as far as his waistband before his hand finds the damp heat of your underwear and presses down.
Whatever you were going to say evaporates instantly, lost in the whimper that slips out instead.
He groans softly when at that, thumb starting slow circles over your swollen clit, like the sound just fuels him. “There it is. That’s the noise I was waiting for.”
His other hand slips into his boxers, palm wrapping around himself with a hissed breath.
He drags himself free and your eyes drop instantly, your breath catching like he’s knocked the wind out of you.
It’s… obscene. Thick and flushed and heavy and pretty, if cocks can be pretty.
He’s big. Bigger than any rumor. Bigger than anyone should be. The head’s already slick, angry pink, twitching the wrap of his fist.
Your thighs clench automatically.
Steve sees the look on your face and huffs a breath that’s almost a laugh, hand stroking himself once.
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “You wanted it. Touch.”
Your hand wraps around him like you’ve been waiting your whole life for the opportunity, thumb swiping the slick at the tip without thinking.
“Robin was so right, oh my god, and did you know she once said you probably broke up with that girl because your dick was too big? I thought she was being so rude and now I’m like — shit, maybe she was being nice —”
“Christ,” Steve growls.
You don’t stop. Can’t. “And those stupid rumors in gym? With the thing about the baseball team? And the —”
He cuts you off with two fingers pushing inside you like punctuation. Deep. Perfect.
You gasp like he stole your oxygen. Clutch his cock like it’s your last tether to reality.
“There,” he mutters. “That’s better.”
You whine, then moan, high and sharp, your head tilting back. Your hand twitches on his length, trying to keep up, trying to do something, but your rhythm’s off, messy, helpless.
“Steve — I — I’m trying to — I’m just —”
His free hand finds your jaw.
“Shh, baby,” he says, “just breathe. Let me take care of you, yeah?”
You can’t think. You really can’t. There’s static where your thoughts should be, white noise words once lived, and all of it being overwritten by the flex of his fingers. Your body spasms on instinct, like it’s trying to trap the sensation and keep it.
What kind of person is this good? What kind of boy-next-door-has-a-bat-in-his-trunk knows how to ruin someone with just two fingers and a thumb?
Not that you’re complaining. You’re just… processing. Or trying to. Which is hard, because he looks so beautiful like this. Hair mused, pupils blown, jaw slack. You want to keep him like this. Want to memorize this version of him.
“Want you,” you materialize. “Steve, please. I want you inside me.”
“Yeah?” he says, jaw tight, like the word almost chokes him.
Your eyes well and you nod, fingers digging into his skin. “Yeah. Please — please, Steve.”
“I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart,” he says, thumb brushing your clit once, then pinching, gentle, filthy, mean. “Want it so bad, don’t you?”
You’re nodding frantically before he’s even finished lining himself up, the head of his cock pressing hot and slick against your entrance.
“Are you sure?” he asks, voice cracking with restraint. “You sure you —”
You cut him off with action, sinking down without waiting, a breathless cry catching in your throat.
“Fuck,” he grits. “Okay. Okay. Baby, slow down.”
He’s big, so big, and you knew that, and you’ve said that, and now it’s too late, he’s already inside you, and you swear you can feel him everywhere, not just between your legs but in your chest, your throat, your teeth, like he’s in your bloodstream now, branded into your nerve endings, and it stretches, stretches, stretches until it feels like you might split in half and you don’t care because it’s so good, impossibly good, the kind of good you didn’t think was even real outside of books or porn or those random sleepover stories where girls said it hurt the first time and then got quiet and dreamy and said but it felt amazing too, and now you understand, now you get it, because this… this is transcendent.
You materialize those thoughts into words as best you can: “I — I didn’t know it could feel like this.”
“Fuck. I’m trying so hard not to move,” he pants, knuckles whitening where he’s gripping you.
“Please, Steve,” you babble, hands curling around his biceps. “I’m okay. I’m okay. Promise. You can move, I need you to.”
But you don’t sound okay. You sound wrecked. Because he’s so close, so real, his sweat dripping onto your collarbone, his breath tangled with yours like it’s shared, like you’re not two separate people at all.
“You sure?” he pants, but he’s already circling your clit again, already letting his hips roll forward like he needs it to survive. “You tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”
The pleasure’s cresting again, thick and dizzying and curling in your belly like your body’s working ahead of your brain, chasing a high you can’t articulate.
“Funny,” he mutters in your ear, “you got all flustered over kissing me in the hallway, and now look at you…” He thrusts hard, then again, a little growl pulsing in his throats. “Letting me fuck you in a closet where anyone could walk by. Anyone could hear.”
“I don’t care,” you breathe, eyes wide and glassy. “Let them — let them hear.”
You’re clenching around him, tighter, desperate, the idea of getting caught only making everything worse.
“Yeah?” he says, hips stuttering as your cunt flutters around him. “You want them to hear how needy you sound?” He circles your clit rougher now, chasing it. “You gonna come for me right here? Gonna soak my cock and let the whole building hear it?”
You should be ashamed. You should be mortified. But instead you’re gasping into his shoulder, cunt clenching around him like your body’s forgotten how to let go, and your brain is stuck on loop of his words.
Because you are, you’re going to, because he’s still thumbing at your slit like he knows exactly what your breaking point sounds like and he wants everyone else to know it too, and it’s so hot it feels like being worshipped and ruined at the same time.
“Steve, I’m gonna — I’m gonna come —” The words fracture as your hips jerk, body trying to meet him stroke for stroke.
“I’m right there — just let go, baby, come with me.”
The orgasm builds and breaks in you like a tidal wave, folding over every nerve ending, leaving you gasping, trembling, clutching at his shoulders like you’re afraid you’ll drift away. They might. You don’t know anything concrete right now.
He groans your name as his rhythm falters, hips stuttering, and then he’s coming too. You feel it, the rush of heat, the way his cock throbs inside you in sync with every last sound that crawls its way out of his throat.
His breath is warm against your cheek, lips brushing yours but not kissing, just hovering there, like even that would be too much. You’re both trembling, sweaty and flushed and completely gone, still pressed together like if you separate too fast the world might not start spinning again.
You can feel him inside you still, the rush of his seed spreading and pooling.
Everything’s cotton and fog. Your whole body hums. You don’t know what to do with your hands.
Steve kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheekbone, then your forehead, whispering your name like he’s checking for a pulse.
“Still with me?” he breathes, nudging your nose with his. “You okay?”
You nod. Or think you do. Maybe you just melt a little more into him instead.
You blink up at him, eyes glassy, breath still not fully your own. “That was…”
You trail off, because no word feels big enough.
Steve smiles like he knows what you meant anyway, like he felt it too. He brushes your hair off your damp cheek, kissing your temple.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Me too.”
It was weird how gentle he was afterward, like the same hands that just took you apart couldn’t stop smoothing you down, wiping sweat from your hairline, murmuring sweet nothings between kisses.
You were still trembling, your thighs sticky and your thoughts barely functional, so when he cupped your face and whispered, “Do you maybe want to go on an actual date with me?” it took you a full five seconds to realize he wasn’t joking.
You blinked, dazed, nodded (maybe said yes?) and then you were pulling your shirt down, slipping past mops and shelves and half-melted brain cells toward the exit.
You were still smiling when Hopper strolled past with a grunt and a raised brow.
“Ten bucks says you knocked something off the janitor’s schedule.”
You nearly fall over. Steve turns bright red. You both pretend very hard not to exist.
oh my god. this was OBSCENE!! FILTHY!! DOWNRIGHT OFFENSIVE!! …and EXACTLY what i wanted and needed but do not have the beautiful mind to conceptualise or articulate
thank you maria sont you are a messenger of god and an icon of slightly perverted girls
summary ༺๑ˊ- steve wants you to claim your throne (on his face).
pairing(s) ༺๑ˊ- steve harrington x female!reader (general-neutral)
cws ༺๑ˊ- established relationship, face riding, steve is munch #1, bit of overstimulation
requested? ༺๑ˊ- yes/no
“c’mon, baby,” steve whined.
but he’s been whining for the past ten minutes.
“i don’t want to go to prison for manslaughter, steve.”
steve rolled his eyes, a dramatic groan following suit. he was petulant. you felt his hands tug at your hips again, trying to reel you in right where you belonged.
on his face.
“i need it. you don’t get it.” he accentuated his words with another impatient yank, wanting to draw you in. “you want me to die, baby? ‘cause i will without that pretty pu—“
you pressed your hand over his mouth. “you’re actually ridicul— steve!” a squeal tore from your throat as steve yanked you by your hips up his abdomen.
you sat on his chest, balancing yourself with your hands on his shoulders. steve just smiled up at you.
those big brown eyes were so hard to say no to sometimes.
that’s why you let him tug you up over his face, fingers hooked around your thighs, right beneath your ass.
“sit,” steve murmured, his breath warm against your wet folds. your hips lurched—fuck, it feels weird like this.
you stayed put, your mind racing. he could feel you hesitate.
“honey, c’mon. don’t leave me hangin’…” steve’s hands held the crook of your waist, thumbs rubbing against the sides of your stomach comfortingly.
you just let out a breath. “don’t wanna suffocate you.”
steve could only laugh, pressing impatient kisses against your inner thighs, eyes focused up at you. “y’gonna make me beg, baby?” he hummed. nosing at your skin. “so mean to me.”
“but what if i kill you— hah—!”
he yanked you down by your hips, flat of his tongue greeting your sopping pussy, collecting your essence.
he moaned into you, eyes fluttering shut, pretty eyelashes fanning over his cheeks as he licked at you with need.
his lips found your clit, wrapping around the bud, causing your weight to fall further on his face.
steve could only hum in satisfaction, hands groping your ass to hold you in place.
“steve— shit…” a gasp tore from you, hands gripping at his headboard as you sat helplessly on top his mouth.
and steve was right where he wanted to be.
his tongue bullied its way between your folds, teasing your entrance with little circles. you could only whine, head lulling back.
his fingers dug into your hips, grinding you on his mouth.
his tongue rubbed against your clit with each grind, making your thighs tremble with every pass.
you felt your brain going fuzzy. “f- fuck, m’close,” you murmured lazily, soft moans following suit.
steve only took that as encouragement, keeping your hips arched forward as he buried is tongue into you, nose nudging at the underside of your sensitive pearl.
with a cry, you felt a snap in your lower belly, waves of tingles shooting up your spine and down your legs.
steve watched you, pupils blown wide and eyes sparkling with desire. you looked like an angel, and sounded even sweeter.
he greedily sucked at your pussy, even when you squirmed on top of him at the post-orgasm sensitivity.
he only held you down, his head shaking as he tried to bury himself even deeper.
and you couldn’t do anything, gravity keeping you against his mouth, a throne you couldn’t escape. forced to be worshipped.
and maybe steve wanted to worship you all night. wanted to keep you writhing.
“you can give me another one, right?”
what was a man to do when his angel tasted so good?
Warnings: SMUT! Cowgirl position, unprotected piv, Steve is lowk pathetic oops, reader is a lil mean, I think that's all
The heavy breathing cuts through the silence of Steve's bedroom.
The two of you were talking about anything under the sun, laughing and being all cute. That was until your boyfriend decided he wanted to kiss down your neck, run his hands up and down your body, and pull you into his lap.
Now, your lips are all over his, kissing him deep while your fingers tug at his hair. You let out a soft laugh when Steve ruts his hips up against yours, looking for any friction through the fabric of his pajama pants.
"Don't laugh." He practically whines, his hands grasping at your sides in something close to desperation. "C'mon, baby..." He whispers as your tongue slides around his. "Need you."
You let out a little hum, but you make no effort to do anything more right now. You run your hands down his chest, reaching the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.
He pulls your shirt off next, throwing it haphazardly somewhere in his room. He reaches up to touch at your breasts, covered by your bra, but you take his wrists and press them into the mattress. He lets out a whimper. A real whimper at your teasing, looking up at you with wide eyes.
"Oh, what's wrong, Steve?" You coo at him, grinding down against him and smiling slyly at the gasp he lets out. "Please, please, baby. Please, I need you." He pants, gripping at the mattress and trying not to just cream his pants right now.
You cup his cheek and lean down to kiss his lips again, still grinding against him. The whimpers Steve lets out make your head spin. He's so adorable like this, it makes you wonder why you don't do this more.
"Ae, you poor thing. So needy, aren't you?" You coo again, smiling as he pulls away from the kiss to look up at you with big, desperate eyes. "What's gotten into y--" You kiss him again, and he immediately melts into it.
"Don't know." You mumble against his lips, still rocking against him just enough to make him feel good but not enough to get him off just yet. He grabs at your hips, letting out moans against your lips.
"Please... please, please, please." He gasps into your mouth, and you decide you can't tease him for much longer. Not when he's begging so sweetly and already so pent up.
You run your hands down his chest and crawl off his lap while you unbutton his jeans and slowly unzip them. He lets out a shaky breath, lifting his hips off the mattress when you start tugging on his jeans and boxers.
You pull them both off, Steve's heavy cock slapping against his stomach and leaking precum. He's already throbbing, absolutely aching for you. You throw the rest of your own clothes off and immediately go to line his tip up with your glistening entrance.
Steve is about to tell you he wants to get you ready for him first, but you sink down all the way in one motion, moaning out as your arms wrap around Steve's neck.
It takes everything in him to not come on the spot, his head tipped back as you begin moving up and down. It feels like he's splitting you open, but it also feels so amazing.
Steve lets out little pants, moans, and whimpers as you bounce on his cock, your tits right in front of his face nearly driving him insane. "Baby, you're so-- f-ah..." He tries to get a sentence out. He really does, but you just feel too good. He can't think straight.
"You like that?" You moan out, holding his jaw as he looks up at you with his eyes already glossed over. He nods, looking up at you and nearly passing away right then and there.
You look into his dark brown eyes, smiling softly as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. "So big, Steve. Fillin' me up so good." You moan, using your free hand to hold his shoulder for leverage.
"Please. M'not gonna last long. Not-- Not like this." Steve whimpers, sliding his hands over your body for a moment before wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight.
"Just-- Hold on a bit longer.." You pant, leaning forward more to bounce faster, your tits right in front of Steve's face. He immediately presses kisses to your hot skin, letting out the sweetest little whimpers against you.
Knowing now that you're not as close as he is, he slides a free hand down your body, his thumb finding your clit as he looks up at you, looking for approval. "F-feel good?" He whimpers, rubbing it fast but not hard.
You nod, still holding his jaw as he looks up at you. His eyes are wide, staring at your face while his hair bounces, the bed creaking and his hips beginning to move in time with yours.
"Love you... I love you, I love you, I love you, I l--omph." You press your lips to his, sliding your hands into his perfect hair. The slapping sound of your ass against his thighs over and over fills the room.
"M'close, Stevie." You moan against his lips, and Steve pulls away from the kiss to lean his head back.
You kiss down his neck, and Steve can't help it anymore. He's so desperate, so in love with you, so pleasured by every little thing you do. He lets out a loud moan, burying his face against your shoulder as hot ropes of cum fill you up. You slow down, but Steve shakes his head.
"Don't stop. Don't, please. N-not until you-- until you come too." He gasps, eyes glazed over with impending overstimulation. You continue to move, and Steve's thumb rubs faster and harder over your clit.
"Keep-- umf-- just like that, just like that, just like that, ju-" You cut him off with a kiss once again, pulling away with a little breathy giggle. "You talk too much, handsome." You whisper, and he can't help but smile at your teasing.
"M'sorry, you're just-- ah-- so perfect." He groans, his dark eyes wide as your legs begin to shake and your movements start to falter. "Gonna come, baby. Gonna-- mhm..." You moan, your movements growing rougher for a moment before they stutter and then stop as your orgasm hits you like a train.
You gush around Steve's sensitive cock, riding through the waves of pleasure before the two of you both slump together. You move off of his lap, letting out a shaky little sigh as Steve slips out of you. He slides down against the pillows, laying flat on his back and turning only his head to look at you.
You lay down next, turned on your side with your head and hand resting on Steve's chest. "You can get mean, baby. A damn tease." He says with a soft laugh, his hand finding your lower back and running his hand over your skin.
"Sorry. I don't know what got into me, honestly. I was just--" "No, no. I liked it. That was so damn hot." Steve cuts you off, a drowsy smile on his face.
"I love you, baby." Steve whispers, running his hand up your back to cradle your head against his sticky chest. "Love you too, Steve." You whisper back just as softly.
"And you're hot when you're pleading." You add, feeling Steve's skin heat up and letting out a little laugh. "You're a bully, y'know that?" He smiles, stroking over your hair and already about to doze off.
Okay do we like this? I thought it was decent so yeah ^-^
a/n: loosely based on ego by beyonce and inspired by things we already knew confirmed in s5 lol
warnings: smut, big dick steve harrington, riding, unprotected sex (pls no babies), p in v, praise, reader is referred to as a girl, swearing
steve harrington who... always knew that he was more...well endowed than the average guy, and was proud of it for a while
steve harrington who... had gotten to second base with many girls, but they all backed out after finding out what was in his pants
steve harrington who... gave up sex for a while, because girls would always complain about it being too much and he was considerate above all else
steve harrington who... seemed hesitant to have sex with you at first, which was odd because from what you'd heard around town he loved having sex
steve harrington who... flushed when you brought it up, because it had grown to be something he was ashamed of
"well, it's just that...you know..." he started as he scratched the back of his neck, a nervous habit you had long picked up on.
"what? are you bad at it or something, because i don't believe that for a second." you countered with your arms crossed over your chest. "is it me? like, are you not attracted to me or something?"
"what? god no, that is far from it." he defended quickly, taking your hands into his. "i've just been cautious about having sex for a while."
"why? is something wrong?" you questioned, worried that something bad had happened to him.
steve hesitated for a moment, seeming to take a moment to find the right words to explain his conundrum. "i just don't want to hurt you with...it."
silence hung in the air, with steve holding his breath while you studied him carefully. "are you saying you're scared to break me because you have a big dick?"
steve harrington who... in all honesty, was not expecting those words to come from your mouth, much less the snort that followed
steve harrington who... listened while you explained that you didn't care what size he was, you just cared that the two of you wanted to have sex, and that there was nothing to be afraid of
steve harrington who... still waited a bit longer before initiating sex, because he could still hear the voices of all the other girls he was with telling him that he was too much
steve harrington who... insisted that you took control, just so that you could stop if it ever got to be too much
"we can stop at any time, remember that." steve reminds you as he lays back on his bed, his hands rubbing smoothing circles on your hips.
"steve, what did i tell you? there's nothing for you to be worried about." you say as you rest your hands on his chest.
"i know, i'm just saying that—holy shit." he says with a groan, his head tilted back as he feels you position him at your entrance. "you little shit."
that pulls a laugh out of the both of you as you slowly and carefully sink down, biting your lip at the stretch. you'd thought after seeing him and having a couple orgasms you'd be more prepared, but boy were you wrong.
"are you okay? is this too much? we can stop if you want." he rambles once he's noticed you'd stopped moving.
"i'm fine, i just...overcalculated a bit." you say, leaning back slightly and resting your hands on his thighs.
steve harrington who... sits there and waits, not rushing while you adjust to his size
steve harrington who... nearly loses it once you sink all the way down, his grip on your hips tightening
steve harrington who... wouldn't admit it, but whimpered a bit when you finally started moving because it all just felt so good
steve harrington who... almost loses it again when your nails start scratching down his chest
"oh my god, 's so good." you moan as you rock your hips.
"yeah? am i making you feel good, baby?" he mutters against your skin as he presses kisses down your shoulder.
"so good, so so good steve." you whined as you leaned closer, nearly pressing your full weight onto him. "need more."
"you need more? you need me to take over for you?" he whispers in your ear, grinning when he sees you nodding. "gonna flip us over, 'kay?"
when he does he notes the breath you let out once you're both settled, giving you another second to adjust. "please, move." you beg, hands gripping his biceps.
"'s okay, i got you baby." he says as he pulls out, admiring the sight of where your bodies come together before thrusting in. the new angle has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your hand reaching up to pull him closer as he thrusts deeper and deeper.
every move either of you make seems to come together to form a perfect symphony, your nails scratching down his back and moans feeling the air.
"steve, 'm gonna cum." you whine into his ear.
"it's okay, baby. go ahead and cum for me." steve says, his hand sliding between the two of you to rub tight circles on your clit. "doing so good for me, hm? my pretty girl."
his words of encouragement are what finally send you over the edge, the pressure in your stomach finally letting go as you cum. "there we go, that's it. you look so pretty when you cum for me." he praises as he presses kisses to your jaw.
he doesn't stop thrusting, chasing his own release as you come down from yours. to help him along, you start kissing across his chest and dragging your nails down his back.
"fuck." he groans as it finally comes, as deep in you as he could be. you moan as you feel him filling you up, biting on your bottom lip softly.
"see? didn't break me." you say with a cheeky smile once he rolls off of you, both of you panting to catch your breath.
steve harrington who... checks up on you while and after he cleans you up, and even a couple hours later when the two of you are just laying in bed
steve harrington who... isn't completely over this insecurity, but definitely feels better about himself after this experience
steve harrington who... 100% won't be as nice the next time
Summary: The last time Steve's (now ex) girlfriend got drunk with him, she called their entire relationship bullshit and told him she didn't love him. Steve's current girlfriend now suffers the consequences because the man won't stop avoiding her when she get's drunk.
Warnings: Alcohol, Drunk People, Cursing, Fluff, Minor Miscommunication, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Established Relationship, Crying
Word Count: 2.1K
Masterlist
Steve avoids his girlfriend every single time she drinks.
He never serves her drinks unless prompted, doesn’t crack open those fancy bottles of wine in his Dad’s basement when she stays over, doesn’t even look in the direction of a bar when they’re planning their dates.
It’s not like it's a frequent occurrence, she’s not an alcoholic or anything. But it’s happened often enough that she’s noticed. Maybe a handful of times in the entirety of their relationship. Seen the way he seems to disappear once he’s confirmed she’s being sufficiently supervised by Robin or some other trusted individual. He lingers, eyeing her from a distance, making sure no weirdos get too close. And by the end of the night, he’s always there to swoop in and take her home.
But otherwise, he avoids her like the plague. She can’t figure out why— it’s driving her nuts. Yeah, drunk people can be annoying. She gets that. But it's your girlfriend of all people, she wasn’t acting that crazy while inebriated. She didn’t usually think much about it, or at least she tried not to. But she's at a point of tipsy-ness that she wants to be around her boyfriend who very clearly doesn’t want to be around her for some reason.
So now, she’s staring at him. Really staring at him, all doe-eyed, bottom lip pouting as she hangs off Robin’s shoulder. She’d gotten drunker than usual in her fit of frustration regarding Steve’s distance.
“Steve!” She squeals his name, launching herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck in a way that has Robin mouthing ‘sorry’ and gesturing to an equally drunk Vickie.
Steve blinks, a bit stiff as she throws herself at him. His arms instinctively loop around her waist to hold her upright. “Hey sweetheart.” He greets, bringing one of his hands to pat her head, albeit a tad awkwardly. She preens at the affection, trying to bury herself in his chest all the while Steve stares Robin down. “We’re gonna head out, alright?”
She pouts, shifting to look up at him, she rests her chin on his chest. “Mkay.” She relents, contented by the simple fact that she’s in his arms. She locks her hands together around his waist and sighs happily, in a bit of an exaggerated fashion. Looking over her shoulder to wave goodbye to Robin absently.
Steve’s hand drifts to the small of her back as he guides her to his beloved Beamer, her head resting on his shoulder as she hums a little tune to herself. He opens the car door, helping her settle into her seat before rounding the car to the driver’s side— he stares at her for a second, confirming she's buckled in before starting the car.
“Can I stay over tonight?” She asks almost immediately, looking at him. It’s far from an abnormal request. She stays over all the time.
Steve blinks, his gaze focused on the road. “I— Yeah sure, of course, Angel.” Comes his swift response, though he swallows a bit nervously.
It’s silly, Steve knows it's silly. But he’s a bit on edge around her when she gets drunk.
The last time his (now ex) girlfriend got drunk, she denounced their entire relationship as bullshit and admitted she didn’t love him. Okay, maybe that's a bit exaggerative but that’s certainly how it felt. And naturally, his sweet girlfriend was not Nancy Wheeler, they’re two completely different people. But he can’t help but fear what words will come out of her mouth when she's drunk and free of all inhibitions.
Drunk words are sober thoughts. And Steve doesn’t think he can hear how his girlfriend doesn’t really love him again. He doesn’t want to hear it. It's irrational, he knows it's irrational, but he can’t help but be scared. Because he really likes this girl and well, he hopes she really likes him too. Loves him, even. She hasn’t said it before, not once. And he hasn’t either, so he can’t really fault her for it. But it leaves him feeling nervous, maybe even a bit insecure in their relationship. But those are feelings he buries, shaking his head in an effort to wipe them from his mind.
He clears his throat awkwardly, gaze flicking over to her as she toys with his radio, humming along to the music and bobbing her head. Cute. She’s cute, his distress diminishes at the sight. How can he think such negative things about his delightful girlfriend? He begins scolding himself mentally, puffing out his cheeks in an effort to free himself of his thoughts as he returns his eyes to the road and—
A poke to his cheek.
He blinks, turning to look at her. “Sweetheart? You need something?” He asks, bringing his gaze to the road.
“Nuh uh.” She says simply. “Just wanted t’ poke ya.”
He nods, as if that response made complete sense. “Right, right, of course.” He murmurs absently.
It’s only a couple more minutes before Steve is pulling into his driveway. Putting the car in park and rounding the vehicle to come and open her door. He guides her out of the car and into his house.
It’s empty, per usual.
She kicks off her shoes upon entry, shrugging off her jacket— which almost falls to the floor before Steve catches it with a quiet curse under his breath. Hanging it in the coat closet swiftly as he tries to keep up with her. “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” He tries to coax her, he really does. Treating her like a bomb about to blow. But instead, much to his dismay, she’s padding to the kitchen and opening his fridge with a pout.
“But ‘m hungry.”
He hums, hand coming to her waist to guide her to the stairs as he gently shuts the fridge. “I can bring you a snack.” He responds, making an attempt at directing her to his room, “while you get ready for bed. How’s that sound?”
She pouts, again, feet rooted in the floor. “But I wanna be with you.” She responds, arms wrapping around his waist, she presses her face into his chest again. “My boyfie. Can’t I just be with my boyfie?”
He goes a bit stiff, surprised by the action, but brings a hand to her hair nonetheless, patting her head gently. He pecks her forehead. “‘Course you can. But you gotta get ready for bed.”
When she looks up at him, her eyes are teary. And now Steve is really panicking. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What did he do? What does he do?
“Stevie, why don’t you wanna hang out with me?” It comes out like a whine, but she sounds genuinely hurt. Eyes darting over his face, brows strewn together as she looks at him in search of an answer. Genuinely confused by his avoidance and distance. Drunken emotions amplified and washing over her like a tsunami. It's not like she wants to cry, but she's growing frustrated and hurt.
He blinks, clearly surprised as he shakes his head rapidly, trying to reassure her as his hands come to her cheeks. “Baby, of course I wanna hang out with you. I just…” He smooths his thumbs over her cheeks. “Just wanna take care of you first, yeah? Got to get you nice and comfy in bed and we can chat all night.”
She sniffles, and much to his dismay, shakes her head. “Liar.” She says. “You always avoid me when we go out. Am I no fun or somethin’ Stevie?” She asks, tugging at his shirt absently, she looks down to evade his gaze. “I just wanna dance with you. But you’re always sitting in the booth or— or nowhere to be found at all!” She frowns.
Oh, she’d noticed that. Well now he just feels like a dick. “You are the most fun, sweet girl.” He responds, and she seems to perk up at the pet name, leaning into his touch. She tilts her head to press a kiss to his palm, gazing up at him through her lashes. He swipes his thumb under her eye to catch a stray tear. “It’s not your fault at all. I’m just being silly.”
Her brows furrow, and her brain is still a bit fuzzy from the drinks, but she’s not stupid, nor is she plastered. “Whatcha mean?”
Steve purses his lips, looking away for a moment. “I… we can talk about it tomorrow.”
Oh that was not a good thing to say.
She looks at him like he’s committed a felony, mouth gaping open. Her hands come to his shoulders to shake him back and forth. “Tomorrow? Stevie, now I’m not gonna sleep at all, why would you say that?!” She cries out, and her eyes are beading with tears again.
He mentally face palms, his hands coming to grip her face to keep her still, he says her name firmly to get her attention. Waiting for her to acknowledge him, she eventually pauses her movements, blinking up at him. “Sorry.” He breathes out, brows furrowing a bit, trying to figure out how to handle… this. “I– it’s just something easier to talk about while you’re sober.” He explains.
That does not help at all. And he quickly realizes his mistake when she starts to open her mouth to express her newfound distress. “I— I’m nervous!” He blurts out, trying to halt another minor meltdown. “When you get drunk, I get nervous.”
She blinks, registering his words. Her brows furrow and she tilts her head curiously, hand slipping into his. “Why?” She asks. “‘M not… I didn’t think I did anything too crazy, do I?”
Steve shakes his head rapidly, his hair bouncing a bit with the movement. “No, no baby. Not at all. It’s just…” The sight of his hair distracts her, a hand coming to gently caress and tug at the strands as he tries to speak, his face reddening at the action. “Y’know, some people are mean when they’re drunk.”
It takes a second for his words to process in her head, her hand in his hair slipping down to cup his cheek. The affection taking him a bit by surprise, he lets his head lull in her hold as he watches her carefully, awaiting a response. “Mean?” She repeats with a frown. “Am I mean?”
He shakes his head, hand coming to cup hers and hold it against his face. Steve tilts his head to kiss her palm. “No, never.” He responds. “But sometimes people say really honest things while they’re drunk and that can feel mean.” He tries to articulate his thoughts. “Like maybe you’ll reveal you actually hate my hair or something.” The joke doesn’t really land as his eyes dart over her face.
She purses her lips. “But I love your hair.” She murmurs absently. “‘S pretty. Just like you. My Stevie is the prettiest.” She leans forward to peck his chest through his top and he swears his heart explodes. Cute. So completely and utterly cute, she’s going to kill him. “All soft and fluffy.” She adds, pressing her forehead against him, her eyes flutter shut sleepily.
“Course.” He breathes out, hand coming to rub her back gently. “I just—”
“This about the bullshit incident?”
The words are a tad slurred as they leave her lips, but they have him stiffening. “P-Pardon?”
“We went to the same high school, Steve, I wasn’t popular but the gossip got around.” She sounds surprisingly sober as she says it, nuzzling into his chest. “Our relationship isn’t bullshit.” Her voice is soft, sweet as she shifts to gaze up at him through her lashes, extending a pinky. “Promise.”
He lets out a shaky breath, a part of him feeling oddly moved by her action, and a bit embarrassed that his failing relationship with Nancy evidently made local news at Hawkins High all those years ago. But he extends his pinky to lock with hers. “Promise.” He echoes the words.
“‘M a very pleasant drunk too.” She adds with a rapid nod of her head. “Just wanna cuddle you all the time. But you’re always gone.” A pout dawns her face once more, though it's no longer one filled with genuine tears.
His face warms again and he breathes out a laugh. “Yeah?” His pinky releases hers, hand traveling to her waist to try and return to his initial goal of getting her upstairs. “Next time, then.”
She nods, this time allowing him to redirect her towards the stares. “Next time.” She agrees with a swift nod.
He leans down to peck her cheek, and she giggles at the action. Affection stirs in his chest as he litters kisses over her skin. Her forehead, her nose, her chin, everywhere he can reach. Her laugh warms his head and he can’t help but grin at the sound, it’s like listening to light itself.
Yeah, he loves her.
He’ll have to tell her that, tomorrow.
Note: Had fun writing this. Oops if the grammar is bad. Proofreading is not my strong suit. Hope it was good!
