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[joekeerysbellybutton]

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• Christina • she/her • 28

⚠︎ This is an 18+ blog so – please – minors DNI

✎ Currently writing for

Steve Harrington

Gator Tillman

⌯⌲ Requests are currently closed

✉︎ My inbox is always open for thoughts, blurbs and general chatting

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➔ Masterlist

[sobcat]

imaginationship

[clleanlliness]

i read tumblr like the morning paper

[athenas-rose]

Cockwarming with Steve

⤷ warnings: smut, p in v, cockwarming, punishment, ˎˊ˗

“J-just—just stay like that, baby,” Steve panted into your ear where you were flipped onto your side, slowly maneuvering the head of his cock into your hole. He had come home from a rough day, and only wanted to be close to you without the exhaustion of sex, when he mentioned keeping his cock still inside you, your eyes almost bulged out of your skull.

“Are you serious, Steve? You just wanna—stay inside there?” You spluttered out, the task sounded impossible, and with the way he was spearing you achingly slow, it certainly felt impossible.

“Mmm—so tight, and—ahh—wet f’me.” He cursed when your walls clenched around him instinctively, begging for him to start his usual restless pace. He kept going until he was fully buried inside of you, you gripped the sheets tightly in order to stop yourself from grinding back against him.

But when Steve adjusted your body slightly, moving your hips, it caused his cock to accidentally shift inside of you, making it brush up against that spot which made you whimper desperately. “Please, Steve,” you moaned, unable to help the way your body reacted instantly, pussy throbbing around him and hips knocking back. “Need you to fuck me—real bad.”

Steve inhaled sharply, holding your hip in a tight grip to prevent you from fucking yourself back onto him anymore. “Ah, ah. What did I say, sweetheart? Be a good girl and keep still for me, yeah? Maybe I’ll reward you later…” you could hear the restraint in his voice, your pussy molded around him so perfectly it was practically choking his cock.

Oh, but the way you imagined how hard he could fuck you right now, how this position enabled him to brush against your cervix, plant his seed real deep inside you if he wanted. You bit your lip harshly until your eyes watered, and when Steve started giving you little kisses on the side of your neck, your horniness took over.

“C-can’t do it, Stevie.” You let out a weak cry, clenching around the base and dragging your pussy up until the familiar sparks of pleasure ran through your stomach, bringing immediate relief. Steve faltered for a moment, allowing you to give into your desires briefly.

“I told you to stay fucking still, didn’t I?” Steve growled, immediately taking your hips in both hands and pushing them with force against the mattress, turning you fully over onto your stomach. “Can’t even follow simple instructions.” He muttered to himself almost annoyed, climbing above you and hiking your knees up.

“Guess I’ll just have to show you how to listen. You’re not finished tonight until I say you’re finished.” He warned, spreading your ass cheeks and plunging his cock even deeper inside you, you gripped the sheets for an entirely different reason now. If Steve stuck true to his promise, he was going to make you cum over and over again until you were begging him to stop from too many orgasms.

[hyunpic]

“global birth rates are declining”…… yeah and so are the reblog rates on tumblr.com too, so what now

[qtxoxox]

Don’t do that

requested

summary: attending a wedding in a pretty dress gets gator all worked up to the point where he makes you go back to the hotel early

cw: smut, piv, oral (f receiving), spanking, spitting, hair pulling, rough & soft sex, soft ending, they’re so obsessed with each other it almost seems toxic

wc: 2.7k

the sun was still shining bright even as it got lower in the sky. golden light flooded the small garden where your cousins wedding reception was being held.

the ceremony was like something out of a dream, surrounded by multicoloured flowers and a green screen like backdrop.

however the whole time, sat in the second row of the crowd, gators eyes did not leave you once.

all day his eyes had been burning holes through the fabric of your dress that clung to all your curve in just the right way.

it took you ages to get out the hotel room in the first place, gator clinging to you, kissing your face so much you had to re do your make up three times.

"either you change or we're not going"

"no can do gate, only got the one dress"

"well then get naked and we'll stay here" his arms were wrapped around your waist, his face in your neck as you attempted to wiggle out of his grasp.

eventually you got gator out the hotel, being around a load of your family putting him off dry humping you for the length of your ceremony.

now, as the sun set on the outdoor venue, the orange rays bouncing off the shiny string lights and glass ornaments, gator was back on you.

"mama yer killin me"

"hmm?" you pretended not to hear him properly, avoiding his gaze from beside you as you refilled your champagne glass.

"you heard me"

your eyes flick over to him for a second as you let the bottle stopper slip from your hands and roll across the table.

you waited until it reached the edge, watching in your peripheral, before bending over and leaning across the table to catch the stopper, pushing out your hips right in-front of gator.

he didn't even pretend to look elsewhere, shamelessly staring right at your ass, hands lifting up instinctively to grab it.

"gator!" you jumped, spinning around.

"don't do that"

"don't do what?"

"act like ya don't know what ya doin" he stepped forward, causing you to strain your neck looking up at him.

"not acting"

"yer-"

"jessica!" you cut gator off, spinning around at the sight of your newly wed cousin, turning your back on gator.

you held your arm out for a hug, brushing your hair over your shoulder, giving gator a full view of the low back on your dress.

as you embrace your cousin, twisting your body slightly to show off the curve of your waist, gator's jaw tightens, his hands twitching by his sides.

after an agonising long 4 minutes of watching you converse with jess in high pitched voices over a whole lot of nothing, you turn back slowly, bringing your glass up to your mouth.

wrapping your lips around the edge as you find gators eyes, they're dark, slightly squinted with pure frustration and unadulterated lust.

"quite done?"

"with what?" you say into the glass, using it almost as a shield as gator shakes his head slowly, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

as much it was taking you just as much willpower not to jump his bones, you knew he was worse at hiding his temptation so teasing him was high on your priories for entertainment.

"yer playing a dangerous game young lady"

"maybe i like the game"

"i think you like the consequences"

you raise your eyebrows, stepping forward and brushing past gator towards a small circle of your closest family.

"cmon, just a bit longer" you subtly reached out to take his hand.

he groaned loudly and aggressively even though he closed his large fingers around your smaller ones with a stark contrast of gentleness.

joining the group, gator draped himself over you from behind, his head on your shoulder, looking completely innocent as he took advantage of the noise to whisper into your ear.

"gonna fuckin ruin ya when we're outa here"

you nodded and smiled politely along with your families conversations, trying to ignore the heat rushing south to your core.

"yer blushin doll"

"youre hard"

jaw clenching again, gators fingers dug into your sides, pulling you a step away from the group, not amused by your attitude one bit.

"i've had enough"

"wh- what?" you turned around slightly, finding gators face to be a lot closer to you own than you were expecting.

"we're leaving"

"now?"

"yes"

"sure" you scoffed.

"i don't like this fuckin attitude"

"why? you're the reason f'it"

he takes a step back, exhaling slowly as he did, eyes flicking over you, your family, the venue.

"what's that my darlin?" he starts up, loudly and put on.

"gate?" you whisper, cheeks already flushing with incoming attention.

"got a headache? might be a migraine ya know"

he reaches out and takes your whole face in his large palms, brushing away stray baby hairs with that same contrasting gentleness, furrowing his brows with faux sympathy.

in an instant, all the women in your family found and surrounded you, sharing sympathetic 'awhs' and 'ohs' until you found yourself being told-

"sweetheart you should really go, you do look awfully unwell"

you stare back at your aunt blankly, offence simmering dangerously close to showing on your apparently 'sickly looking' face.

gator stood behind you, not even bothering to conceal the smug smile that had his lips in a chokehold.

"yeah cmon sweets, let's get you back"

his hands guided you away from the crowds, at least letting you find your cousin to say goodbye first before he swooped you off your feet and carried you towards the hotel entrance, ironically bridal style.

you reach the lifts where gator kindly sets you on the ground not letting you go far out of his hold.

as you get in the lift, his lips finally meet yours for the first time all night. his tongue forces past your lips, tasting the champagne you never got to finish.

he presses you up against the cold metal wall of the list, causing you to gasp against his mouth which he took to his advantage, deepening the kiss.

the ping of the lift stopping pulls you out of each others mouths too soon for your liking, gator grabbing your upper arm to hastily pull you out of the small box.

quickly checking down the halls, gator takes your hips, hauling you up and over his shoulder without hesitation.

"gator!" you squeal.

"quiet ma- don't wanna disturb anyone do ya?"

he smacks your ass through your dress, rubbing the side of his face into your hip as he makes the short walk down the hall towards your room.

"ah fuck- the card" he groaned, setting you back down on the floor once again. "gimme"

"ask nicely"

"don't do-"

"gator" speaking in a singsong tone, you clutched your bag, turning it away slightly as he reached out to snatch it.

"please gimme the card"

without breaking eye contact, or the thick tension between you, you reach into your bag, fiddling around and pulling out the keycard.

"pain in my ass you are" he snatched the card out of your fingers.

"you love the pain"

he flashed you a playful smile as he opened the door, his hand finding your lower back to push you past the threshold.

he kicks the door shut behind him, lips already back on yours, both your hands pulling at each others expensive evening attire as he toes off his shoes clumsily.

you rid him of his blazer, pulling frantically at his tie and shirt buttons beneath it. he fumbled over the zipper on the side of your dress after spending far too long trying to unzip fabric across your back that had no zip.

"fuckin- stupid- size- zip" he mumbled against your lips, pulling it down with a harsh sound that you swore was the seams ripping.

you shimmied out of the silky fabric, leaving you in just a delicate pair of lace panties and stiletto heels. gator pulled back to look at you, taking you all in like a prize he worked so hard for.

"hey cmon- we're not even" you gesture to your bodies.

"such a bossy thing arent we"

instead of answering, you undo his belt, pulling it smoothly off his waist, letting it drop to the floor along with his shirt and tie.

as your both working on his dress trousers, the backs of your knees hit the big king bed in the middle of the room.

wobbling on your feet, one of gators hands shot out to grab your wait as you steady yourself with his larger frame.

"steady on mama" he laughs, kicking his trousers off all the way. "cmere"

he lifts you by your hips, stepping back to throw you into the middle of the bed from the foot of it.

"been waiting f'this all fuckin night"

gator pulled your knees, leaning down onto the bed between your legs as he forced them apart.

after slowly taking off your heels, he licked up the insides of your thighs, messily kissing over the fabric of your panties, groaning into them at the taste of your arousal that had seeped through.

"gate" your breathing was erratic with anticipation, catching when you saw him spit onto the fabric.

his lips latched onto your covered clit, sucking it through the lace. your hips bucked up into his face, despite his hands trying to hold you still.

heat bubbled low in your belly, the friction of the lacy fabric adding to the already overwhelming pleasure from gator, making your body jerk and legs tremble around his head.

your fingers found his hair, pulling it out of the gel cast frantically as your back arched with the sudden wave of your orgasm washing through.

with a loud cry of his name he pulled off you, just long enough to peel away your wet, sticky panties, watching as they clung to your puffy lips.

"hadn't even got these off and yet fallin apart" gator groaned as he dipped his head back down between your thighs.

chocking out a moan, you felt gators tongue push through your slick folds and flick over your sensitive clit, still throbbing with the aftershocks of your climax.

"gate- too much"

instead of listening to you, he dragged two rough fingertips up your slit, teasing your dripping entrance to make you shiver before plunging them inside.

wrapping his lips around your bare clit, he curled his fingers up against your spongey walls, bringing you close to another high.

"aah- mffh- gator"

"i can feel ya squeezing, baby- cum all over my fingers"

his words vibrating into your core sent you over the edge, pulling another devastating orgasm out of you, your eyes tightly shut and jaw slack in a broken cry.

he rode out your high until you'd stopped shaking quite as violently, climbing up your body to lock his lips onto yours. you kissed him back with desperation, teeth clashing, tasting yourself on his tongue.

finding the strength in your weak joints, you sit up and push gator to the side. he fell onto the mattress beside you, your body settling half on his in an attempt to keep him down.

with his mouth still on yours, you palmed him through his tented underwear, making him groan against you. you dipped your fingers under the band, immediately finding a small slick patch on his skin.

you let your fingers gently dance over the velvety skin of his cock, swiping pre cum from his slit until gator had had enough.

"yer fuckin-" he pushed you off him, back down onto the mattress. "always such a tease"

kneeling up, he took your hip, rolling you roughly onto your stomach before settling between your legs. he grabbed your hips with no longer gentle hands and pulled your ass back, forcefully arching your back.

"think it's funny to drive me insane all night- then keep up that little attitude back here?"

his palm connected with your ass with a sharp sound from the contact, and from your throat.

"when i said you like the consequences" another smack, making you whine. "i think i was right ya know"

you knew better than to talk back, especially when gator was right. each smack to your ass had your pussy clenching around nothing, and he could see it.

before you could whine anymore, gator was bullying the fat head of his cock into your tight cunt. not before he spat down on where you connected a couple times, pulling his tip out to smear his saliva all over your already dripping wet core.

he didn't stop for a second once he slid all the way in, stop to feel you around him, stop you let you adjust. he set a brutal pace immediately, tearing broken cries from your chest, making the headboard slam against the wall.

"this what ya wanted sugar? huh?"

"yeaaah"

"what was that?" his hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head out of the pillow that was muffling your moans.

"this- i wanted"

"fuckin knew ya did- dirty girl" he let your hair go, hands returning to press bruises into your hips.

you were a mess underneath him, teetering on the edge of another orgasm, so worked up and over sensitive from gators tongue.

"fuck- you gonna cum again- gonna cum all over my cock this time?" his hand slipped around your front to find your clit as he could tell you were close.

"please" you chocked out at the sudden attention to your overworked nerves.

"go on mama- let go f'me"

you did. your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, white hot pleasure soaring though your veins, your legs giving out from underneath you, dropping flat onto the mattress. gator fell over you, his face pressing into yours, slowing his pace.

"cmon sweets, turn over f'me- you're okay" his nose nudges against yours, his lips pressing kisses to any part of your cheek that he can.

still shaking, he pulls out slowly, helping you turn onto your back and your head to find a pillow. your legs unconsciously open back up for him, in which gator smirks proudly.

with softer hands, he pushes back in, watching himself disappear into your slick heat, transfixed at the creamy ring that has formed around his base.

"jesus- look at that- she's just sucking me right back in"

when he reached the hilt, he leant back over you, taking your legs up to wrap over his back. your arms locked around his neck as he braced himself on his forearms right by your head.

the only way that you two would be closer is if you literally got inside his skin, even though you were pretty sure somewhere along the line you already were.

"squeezing me so good mama- 'm so close"

"i- mffh"

gator buried his head in your neck, kissing and biting the skin as his hips rolled in a steady rhythm, each thrust felt like he was rearranging your insides.

"stay with me yeah? i want one more from ya"

"yeah- close-" you mewled, finding his lips with your own in a lazy, messy kiss.

your nails scratched down his back as gators hips rolled quicker, frantically chasing his own, desperately sort after release.

"fuck- sugar- i'm gonna- aah"

with a deep, chesty groan gator came, filling you up with a heavy load, rope after rope of hot cum until it was dripping out from around his length.

the sensation of gator painting your soft walls pulled one final, softer, orgasm out of you, leaving you feeling all fuzzy and warm and boneless.

"fuck mama- ya alright?"

"so good" you smiled, fucked out and blissful.

gator rolled over, keeping you tight to his chest, and his dick plugged in your cunt. you sprawled out over his chest listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat settling down.

his hands traced soft patterns over your back as his smiling lips pressed little kissed into your hair.

"could be us one day mama" he croaked out after a beat of quiet, his words vibrating against your cheek.

"huh?"

"a wedding"

you peeled your eyes open, using all your energy to lean on your forearm and look up at gator.

"you saying ya wanna marry me gator tillman?" you teased.

"don't do that-" he goes to dismiss you automatically looking away but only for a second when he sees your little blush that he knows isn't just from the way he fucked you.

"course i wanna marry ya sweets- im gonna marry ya"

[snoopyharrington]

graceland too

summary: When your older brother, Eddie Munson, dies in a battle in the Upside Down, you don't know what to do with yourself. A few days later, Steve Harrington offers to let you move in and take care of you, because he knows what you're going through. pairing: caretaker!steve x munson!reader word count: 5.1k content/warnings: GRIEF/DEATH/MOURNING!!!!, angst to fluff/hurt comfort, happy/hopeful ending, s5 v1 canon dustin, people coping with death differently (which means not everyone coping in a way that's kind to others), max is in a coma, occurs between s4 and s5 but there may be some canon inaccuracies (sorry), TRAUMA!!!!, coping with trauma, mental health/mental health conditions, will they/won't they dynamic, lots of "friendly" touching between steve and reader, mentions of s4 final battle when eddie dies, slight uncle wayne slander (sorry), not proofread (sorry x3) title is a reference to the phoebe bridgers song ofc :)

It starts in late June.

Steve's out volunteering with Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan, which is where he plans to spend most of his time for the foreseeable future. The "earthquake" that ripped Hawkins in four — otherwise known as the interdimensional power-hungry freak named Vecna — had rocked their small town, effectively ripping lives, houses, pets, and the like away in his dirty clutches.

The thought still made Steve shudder, but he was trying to focus his efforts elsewhere — not on the fact that Max was in a coma, or that hundreds of people were posting "missing" signs for their lost loved ones, even though he knew they were never coming back. And especially not on Eddie Munson, of all people, sacrificing himself in the Upside Down.

His throat closes up slightly as the flashback plays back in his mind. He momentarily stalls, the kids size hand-me-down tee-shirt he's folding just a soft piece of fabric for him to hold on to as he remembers what happened just 72 hours ago.

And then Steve thinks of you.

You and Dustin had been unconsolable that night. Understandably so. Dustin looked up to Eddie and had big plans to take over Hellfire Club when he finally got him through to graduation. You, however... Eddie's your big brother. Was your big brother. Separated just by two years, and even though you had different dads, Eddie never treated you any differently.

In the short time that you had known Steve, he learned that you never actually met your biological dad, but Uncle Wayne and Eddie took you in all the same. From a young age, Eddie was your protector. Steve knew that just from going to the same school as you two. Even though you weren't in Hellfire, everyone at Hawkins High knew better than to fuck with Eddie Munson's little sister. That was a death wish in its own right.

"Steve? You alright?" Nancy's soft voice pulls Steve from his thoughts. He blinks, looking down at her, and quickly folds the tee-shirt in a messy heap. She glances at it and carefully redoes it.

"How do you think she's doing?"

Nancy knows immediately who he's talking about. Her lips pull in a small frown.

"I can't imagine how she's feeling," she mumbles with a shake of her head. "Dustin and Mike went to talk to their uncle and he was talking about skipping town. He said he doesn't want to stick around knowing the reputation Eddie left behind, even if he knows it wasn't true."

Steve's eyes widen at that, "What, so he's just gonna leave her?"

Nancy shrugs. "They're grieving, Steve. Wayne's been working to support them for the past, what? 20 years? He deserves to mourn the way he needs to."

"Is he taking the trailer?"

"I don't know," she says. "Mike said Dustin tried to talk to her yesterday but she wouldn't answer the door."

"Shit," Steve mutters, lifting a hand to run through his hair. "Do you think... would it be, like, overstepping if I tried checking on her? I'm... I'm really worried about her, Nance."

Nancy thinks for a moment, nibbling on her bottom lip as she distracts herself with a new pile of toddler-sized pants.

"I don't see how it could hurt," she eventually replies. "The worst she'll do is tell you to fuck off or not answer, but... I don't know. I'm worried, too."

For the entire drive over to the Forest Hills Trailer Park, Steve prays to a god he doesn't know if he believes in.

Over the past few years, he's witnessed too much tragedy for a 20 year old. He's seen too much death, cried too much, gotten too many concussions, defended his friends in ways he never thought imaginable — but now, he's depending on whatever big, universal power may or may not exist, because he needs you to still be in Hawkins.

He needs this.

A wave of relief hits him when he haphazardly parks his BMW outside the Munson trailer, but he knows he's not completely in the clear until he sees your face. He slams the driver's door shut and walks up to the door, rapping his fist against the thin metal. He has to convince himself not to press his ear up to the door and listen for footsteps or sounds of life.

But then—

Then, you answer.

You open the door, and Steve blinks, slightly shocked. Mainly because you're here, in front of him, but also...

Also, because you're still wearing the same blood-stained tee-shirt from the day of the final battle. Because the bags beneath your eyes indicate that you probably haven't even slept since then, and your eyes are so puffy and red that Steve knows you've likely spent all your time crying.

And it just kind of... clicks, in that moment, what Steve needs to do.

"Hey," he greets, his tone gentle and quiet, "Pack some stuff up. You're gonna come stay with me for a little bit, okay? I'm gonna take care of you."

Steve watches as the gears slowly start to turn in your mind. He can tell that you're moving at a weaker rate than usual, and he wonders when the last time you've had food or water is. Your lips part, but then you nod.

"Okay," you answer, voice hoarse. "Okay— can you— can you help me?"

Your eyes begin to water, and it takes everything in Steve not to pull you in and give you the biggest hug imaginable.

"Yeah, sweetheart," Steve nods. "I'm gonna help you."

July

"So, what have you guys been doing?"

The tone to Dustin's question is accusatory, as if you've been hunkering down at Steve's house to purposely hide away from the kids. Steve sighs as he leans his hip against the open doorway, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I've just been... I don't know, like, taking care of her," he says. He doesn't know how to explain it to pre-teens without making it sound weird, but he also knows he doesn't give them enough credit. That in his head, they'll maybe always exist as tiny little kids biking around Hawkins in their Ghostbusters costumes, when they've experienced more pain and trauma than most adults go through in a lifetime.

As it stands, only two of the usual gaggle is currently on his doorstep — Will's still recovering from everything with Vecna (and Joyce isn't too keen on letting him run around all willy nilly), and Lucas spends most of his free time at the hospital, waiting for Max to wake up. Mike and Dustin have really been the only two trying to hang around Steve's, bothering him to see if you're up for visitors.

"She's not, like, hurt, though." Mike points out, and Steve suppresses yet another sigh before nodding his head.

"Yeah, I know that, Wheeler, but her brother just died. It's a lot for her to deal with, okay? You heard Wayne, he wanted to leave Hawkins anyway."

Mike shrugs and adjusts his stance on his bike.

"Eddie was my friend, too. Why can't I hang out?" Dustin asks.

"Listen, Henderson, it's just different," Steve runs his hand through his hair, obviously growing exhausted of the conversation. "I know you were friends with Eddie and you were obsessed with him and whatever, but, like. Imagine Mike lost Nancy or something. It's on that scale, okay? It's fucked up, and she just needs someone. You have your mom and Mike and... Mews, I guess."

Dustin makes a sound through his teeth before kicking the brake off his bike.

"Whatever, dude. See you around."

Rolling his eyes, Steve watches as Dustin rides off the Harrington property. Mike waves goodbye, which Steve returns, and then turns around to close the door behind him, jogging quietly in his socks up to the guest room, where you've been staying for the last three weeks.

He knocks softly, then calls out: "You awake in there?"

(It doesn't matter that it's 1 o'clock in the afternoon. Steve quickly realized that, within a few days of having you stay with him, your sleep schedule was completely fucked up. You revealed to him that you hadn't slept at all since Eddie passed, because when you closed your eyes, all you could see were the demobats attacking him.)

(That first night at Steve's, you both stayed in the living room, because you confessed that you were too scared to sleep alone in the dark. Steve kept the TV on all night.)

When he doesn't hear a response, he opens the door, sighing softly when he sees your exhausted body tucked into the guest room sheets and blankets. He tip-toes to the edge of the mattress, placing a hand to your shoulder, and lightly shakes your shoulder.

"'s 1 pm, sweetheart," Steve murmurs, carefully moving some hair out of your face. "Gotta get up."

You jolt, reaching out to grab Steve's hand, and he jerks in response, nervous that he's scared you. (Nightmares have also been a common theme in the house — for both of you.) When you open your eyes a second later, retinas adjusting to the light and familiar figure in front of you, you let out a shaky breath and ease up on the tight grasp around Steve's wrist.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," you mutter, reaching up to fist at your eyes. "Did I sleep in again?"

"Don't apologize, you're okay," Steve replies easily, "But yeah, it's a bit late."

You groan. "I couldn't sleep again last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I was seeing..."

Your expression glazes over slightly, and Steve shakes his head, squeezing your arm.

"Hey, don't do that," he says. "Remember what we talked about? You can't go back there all the time. You can't blame yourself for what happened."

Your eyes instantly get watery so you sit up, then stare at your lap.

"You hungry at all? I can make you something to eat. Maybe we can go outside today or something."

You shrug your shoulders. Somehow, you're overwhelmed by his questions, even though you used to be so opinionated and sure of yourself. You wonder where that version of yourself went off to. Your stomach clenches at the thought of it dying alongside Eddie.

"Lemme make you something small," Steve murmurs. "Then maybe we can sit in the backyard and eat?"

You peer up at him, swallowing the lump in your throat. You're not sure when that got there, but it seems like it's always there these days.

"Okay," you say. "That sounds alright."

Steve smiles at you, and that feels like a reward in itself.

August

Steve wakes up to a soft knock on his bedroom door, followed by an even quieter call of his name.

He opens his eyes and searches through the darkness for the alarm clock on his nightstand. The red neon numbers blink back at him. 2:06 a.m.

"Steve?"

You call him again, this time, creaking the door open. Steve sits up, the navy blue comforter his mom picked out for him in high school falling to his waist.

"What's up, sweetheart?" he croaks out, throat dry from a few solid hours of sleep. He can't quite make out your form in the inky blue night of his room, but he hears you come closer to his bedside.

"I had a really bad nightmare," you say. Your voice is soft, the admission rolling off your tongue like it's a secret you'd only confess in the thick of night. "I'm sorry for waking you up, but can I just... can I stay in here? For tonight?"

Steve is tired. He's tired from just being woken up, which he'll never be upset with you about, but he's also tired from worrying about you, and Max, and Lucas, and El, and Will, and fuck, now even Dustin's giving him attitude because he won't let him see you.

He's exhausted, and he hasn't told you too much, but sometimes, when he closes his eyes, he, too, sees Eddie's body getting attacked by demobats.

On especially bad days, he also sees Barb's, and he blames himself for that.

But he knows he's not doing you any good by sinking into his own trauma and grief.

He knows you need someone.

Right now, you need him.

So, Steve moves over and pats an empty spot in the middle of the bed.

"Come on in," he says, fluffing a pillow for you on the side next to him. "Hope you don't mind, I'm a cuddler."

You snort at that.

Steve thinks it's the first time he's heard anything close to a laugh in months.

The next day, Robin and Nancy bully their way into Steve's house.

Steve's strong enough to stop a few pre-teen kids from getting in, but he can stave off his ex-girlfriend and his best friend for only so long. They, too, are worried about you, especially since it's officially been a month and a half since they've seen you.

Today seems to be one of your better days. After sleeping in Steve's bed, you woke up before noon (and he wasn't kidding, either — he really is a cuddler, which you'll neither deny nor admit to that helping you sleep better). You ate breakfast and changed out of pajamas, and even spent some time watching TV with Steve before the girls came over.

(Steve avoided putting any local news on, since every report was still very much about the "earthquake" and missing loved ones. Instead, you watched reruns of Press Your Luck, which seemed to be good enough for both of you.)

Nancy and Robin drag you back upstairs to the guest room, with Robin calling out some bullshit excuse about you needing "girl time". Steve doesn't know why that's relevant, but he flops down on the couch anyway, wondering how his home got to have an open door policy.

He attempts to enjoy his time alone, but really, it's pretty boring not having you around. He's gotten used to your presence, even if you're not always talking or doing something together. He puts a baseball game on and cracks open a beer, but even that feels kind of lame.

Around three hours in of your "girl time", Steve decides to (sneakily) check on you. Of course, the guest room door is closed, which makes him roll his eyes, but Robin talks loud enough for him to hear her through the walls. The TV is on — something you haven't done since you started staying here — and he nibbles on his bottom lip as he tries to listen in on what you three could possibly be talking about.

"So, do you have a crush on him?" Robin asks. Steve's eyes widen. She can't be talking to Nancy, who's been dating Jonathan since she broke up with Steve.

"Robs!" he hears Nancy scold her, followed by a loud ouch!

"What? I'm just asking!"

"No, no, it's fine," you reply, followed by some awkward laughter. "Um... I mean, he's so kind and sweet, but I feel like I've been such a burden on him. I have to get back on my feet at some point and I just don't know if now is a good time for me to figure out a romantic relationship."

Steve's chest aches a little at that. He's never thought of you as a burden, and he hates that you could ever feel that way.

"I think that's a really mature way to look at things," Nancy says. "Steve cares a lot. And when he loves, he loves with his whole heart. It can feel a little intimidating sometimes — it was for me, at least. But maybe one day it could work out for you two."

Robin's already babbling about something else, so you don't have a chance to answer. But now, Steve can't help but wonder if there's a future that exists for you, beyond the confides of these shitty, grief-filled circumstances.

Maybe that makes him selfish. Maybe that makes him hopeful.

He hasn't quite decided yet.

Mid-August

August is a hazy month.

The summer sun hangs low, humidity thick in the warm afternoons of Hawkins. Robin thinks she's about to secure jobs for her and Steve over at The Squawk, but there's also talks of the military taking up permanent residence in their little town.

Quite frankly, he also doesn't want to leave you.

As the summer crawls to a slow close, your face fills out a little bit more, your eyes less tired. You're starting to look more like your old, healthy self again, which brings Steve a lot of relief. You both know you'll never return to that version of yourself again — the person you were when Eddie was still alive — and you're struggling with that every day.

Steve can see it in your eyes, especially when you gaze off somewhere distant. You'll be sitting in the backyard together, knees tucked to your chest, and suddenly there won't be anything left to say, and he knows you're thinking about it. The cicadas are screeching, almost as loudly as winged demobats jetting low in the sky, and your fists are balled so tightly, Steve worries you're going to break skin.

"Sweetheart," he says gently, standing from his seat and kneeling down in front of you, "Come on, don't do this. You're not there. Where are you, hm? Talk to me."

You blink slowly, almost as if you're being woken up from a dream. You let Steve take your hands into his; allow him to gently flex your knuckles and fingers so they're no longer clenched.

"I'm in your backyard," you eventually answer. Steve nods encouragingly. "I'm... I'm not back there. I'm with you. I'm safe. I'm here."

"There you go," he soothes, petting over your palms. "That's good. That's really good."

You try to smile gratefully at him, but there's tears lining your eyes.

The rest of the evening is spent in the little bubble of routine you've built for yourselves.

Sometime after dinner, you and Steve will migrate to the couch. He'll put something lighthearted on, usually a sitcom or a game show, and you'll curl up into Steve's side. You never talk about the cuddling, or the fact that you never stopped sharing a bed after that night all those weeks ago. After that, he just kept asking you if you wanted to go to bed, and you never questioned it.

When you're just about to fall asleep, Steve gently guides you upstairs and forces you into the shower, even if you fight him on it. He tells you that it'll make you feel better and help you sleep, which he's somehow always right about.

You're not sure when Steve Harrington got so good at being a careful, compassionate human being, but you do notice that you sometimes share the same far away look — the one you get when you're thinking of Eddie, or how cold the Upside Down was, or the sound of Dustin sobbing.

You haven't asked Steve what else he's witnessed in that fucked up place, but you can't imagine it's anything good. You've heard Max is still in a coma, and one of the only times Steve willingly leaves the house is when Lucas calls and asks for a ride to the hospital. You've also learned that the reason Will went missing a few years ago is because he was trapped there, and Barbara Holland's mysterious disappearance was just as fatal and gruesome as Eddie's.

There are days where you're so angry with the world, and you wish you never let Eddie get involved with any of this bullshit. You want to punch walls and scream and cry and curse out anyone who so much as looks at you, because your brother got taken away from you before he even got a chance at living the life he deserved.

But Steve's usually never too far away, and his mere presence is typically enough to be a voice of reason in your brain. And so, you allow yourself to think about the events leading up to Eddie's death, and how he would've met up with Chrissy Cunningham regardless of what you said, because you would've never thought any differently.

You could've tried to drag him out of the Upside Down yourself, using all of your body's strength, but he never would have let you do it.

He would have sacrificed himself for Dustin a million times over.

And while the anger feels useless, it has to pass through anyway. At the end of it, the only thing left for you to feel is gratitude for Steve Harrington.

Because he was the one who pulled you out of the Upside Down, and he's the one who's been taking care of you for the past three months.

You can only imagine how funny Eddie would find that.

September

The days slowly start to cool down in September.

With each passing day, the heat begins to dissipate, and it feels as though summer's on its final leg. Now that the sun isn't so insistent on beating down high and angry in the afternoon, you and Steve spend more time laying in the backyard during the day.

Laying back in the grass, your hands barely touching but just a fingertip apart, is when you tell him what you've been thinking for the past few weeks:

"I think I wanna have some kind of memorial for Eddie."

Steve, somewhat groggy after eating lunch, turns his neck to look at you. You mirror him. You're surprised that he doesn't look confused or shocked.

"Yeah?" Steve asks.

"I think it would be nice for all of us to say some words and talk about him a little. I've been thinking about it a lot lately."

You watch as Steve licks his lips, then nods his head.

"I agree," he says softly. "Where would you wanna have it?"

"I hadn't really thought that far, to be honest." you admit bashfully.

"How about here?" he suggests. "Just a little something in the backyard. Somewhere everyone's comfortable."

"You wouldn't mind?"

He smiles crookedly, and you hardly notice when his pinkie brushes yours.

"Of course not."

A few days later, Steve asks when you want to hold Eddie's memorial, and you land on a date the following week. With the military officially quarantining Hawkins, everyone's schedules are mostly free, so it's just a matter of calling everybody up and inviting them over, which Steve is happy to handle. Your only ask is that anyone who attends comes with at least one thing, whether it be a memory, story, or little anecdote, to say about your brother. No one needs to wear black or show up in tears or with a giant casserole — just with the understanding that they're there to honor Eddie.

When the day arrives, you wake up feeling oddly calm. Steve is glued to your side all day, constantly checking in on you and making sure you're okay. He doesn't need to remind you that this is the first time you'll be with the group since the day Eddie passed, because you're already well aware of the circumstances.

When the anxiety does creep in, you allow yourself to tuck into Steve's side. Wordlessly, he understands; a silent conversation between two people who have been through too much too young. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. As usual, you don't acknowledge the affection between you two.

People start to show up around 2 p.m. First Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin, then Mike and Will on their bikes. Lucas comes by shortly after, straight from the hospital, you assume, and you understand El is still on strict watch under Hopper's watchful eye. Dustin, you realize, is most noticeably missing, and when you look to ask Steve about it, he's already shaking his head.

"He's not gonna make it today," he mumbles lowly, catching your ear so only you can hear him, "I'm sorry. I tried to convince him."

You nod curtly and try not to let it burn you from the inside out.

Despite everyone still looking battered down from the past few months, they're all happy to be back at Steve's house and in your presence. Everybody gives you a big hug, commending you on the idea and how glad they are to see you.

It's the most similar thing to joy you've felt in a long time.

When you all gather in the backyard, you swallow the lump already forming in your throat. You clear your throat and try to speak loudly, the same way Eddie always did.

"Thank you guys for coming today. I really appreciate you taking the time to come and honor Eddie," you start, awkwardly wringing your hands in front of your body. "I thought it would be nice if we could all just say something about him. It doesn't have to be a big thing, I know not everyone was super close with him, but just a nice way to send him off."

Your voice cracks, and from beside you, Robin grabs your hand, giving it a small squeeze.

"I'll go first," she volunteers with a smile. "I'll be honest, I didn't know jackshit about Eddie 'The Freak' Munson until he got involved with all this Upside Down mumbo jumbo, but it did the same thing to him that it did to me. It just... pulled me in, without even asking for permission. And I'm really glad I got to know Eddie before he died, because it gave me a chance to know the real him. He wasn't that crazy, heavy metal Satan worshipper everyone said he was. He was a genuinely kindhearted, incredible, sweet dude. He was a great friend, and a great brother, and we miss him so much."

The tears are already streaming down your cheeks by the end of Robin's short speech, and you send her a grateful, watery smile, which she returns with just as much sadness in her eyes.

"Eddie was actually supposed to graduate with me," Nancy says next, which makes every laugh a little. "And before he started Hellfire Club, I think he was trying to find his footing a little bit, so he tried being a writer for the Hawkins High newspaper, but he only wanted to write album reviews for heavy metal albums. I was only a freshman then so I didn't have any say, and the senior editors kept striking them down, but every week he would come in with fully written reviews on bands no one had ever heard of. It was just so... Eddie of him, and I hope I take that energy with me everywhere, for the rest of my life."

Jonathan tells a story about Eddie complimenting his photography before they knew each other, and Mike and Will both follow up with lengthy Hellfire Club anecdotes that make little sense to you, but still make you smile. Lucas, in light of his obvious exhaustion, talks about how he was terrified of Eddie because he wanted him to pick between basketball and Hellfire, but it made him realize that Eddie was just an incredibly passionate person, and he'll always admire that about him.

"Eddie Munson couldn't have been more different than from what I expected him to be," Steve admits, running a hand through his perfectly tousled hair. "He was... ridiculous and dramatic, but also selfless and funny. He saved my best friend's life and he also brought me to one of the most important people in my life. So, I'll always thank him for that, and I'll never be able to repay him enough."

You stare at Steve, taken back by his description of you (did he really just refer to you as 'one of the most important people in his life'?), but he gently elbows you, reminding you that it's your turn to go. Blinking, you pull a folded piece of paper from the pocket of your jeans, then lift your hand to haphazardly wipe away your tears.

You take a deep breath, then prepare yourself to read.

But before you do, Steve reaches out to hold your free hand.

You accept it graciously.

Now, you feel ready.

"Eddie was more than my big brother. He was my best friend, my other half, and, when I was younger, it felt like he was my North Star. He guided me through a lot of shitty situations but never really let me know just how bad they were. He cared for me in ways a kid should never have to, but there were nights I ate dinner or mornings I got to school just because he was making sure I did.

Somewhere along the way, it started feeling like I was the older sibling. I graduated high school before him, and I was trying to help him get his shit together so he could get the fuck out of here. He didn't dream of staying in Hawkins. He wanted to tour the world with his band and help people with his music and do cool shit. But I guess... I guess what Eddie never realized is that he was already kinda doing that. It wasn't on the scale he dreamt of, but he was helping people, and he was doing cool stuff and already on his way to greatness, and he died being the passionate, incredible person he always was.

I will miss my brother for as long as I live. I think my heart will always feel a little broken. But he taught me to love unconditionally and passionately, and to put everything I have into anything that feels worth it. So... thank you for that, Eddie. We miss you, and we love you so much."

When you look up from your wrinkled piece of looseleaf, eyes blurry with tears, everyone around you is crying. You swallow harshly and look to Steve, who's already bringing you in for hug.

You wrap your arms around his middle and cry into his chest, allowing yourself the love and care you desperately need in this moment. You don't know how long you stand there, crying and holding each other, but eventually your grasp loosens, and he lets you go, but not before pressing a kiss to your hair and murmuring an I love you.

When you look up at him, chin against his chest, you nod and mouth the words back to him.

Around you, a breeze gently whistles through the backyard. The shrubs and trees rustle as you sniffle, breaking away from Steve's adoring grip on your form. The group has busied themselves with hugging one another and offering their own "I love you"'s, but somewhere off in the distance, you swear you hear it—

Your brother's cackled laughter, followed by a signature sarcastic groan.

"Really, Harrington? At my memorial?"

[holawdw]

girlie, spill the top gun pilot!Steve headcanons !!

on march 3, 1969 the united states navy established an elite school for the top one percent of its pilots. its purpose was to teach the lost art of aerial combat and to insure that the handful of men and women who graduated were the best fighter pilots in the world. they succeeded. today, the navy calls it fighter weapons school. the flyers call it: TOP GUN

STEVE HARRINGTON. CALLSIGN: WONDER BOY

✩ after the final battle in hawkins, steve wanted to keep saving lives, searching for a sense of purpose that could dull the ache in his chest that had built over the years from coming home to his parents’ empty house every night.

✩ with some heavy convincing, they agreed to help fund his college education, and steve became a pilot through indiana state university's ROTC program.

✩ he met his RIO, charlie 'river' rush, in one of his classes, and they quickly became close friends.

✩ charlie would follow steve into any dogfight no matter the risk, which is why they went to flight school together post-graduation.

✩ the instructors called steve “wonder boy” behind his back, shocked that a kid from hawkins, indiana would rise to become one of the best pilots in the navy.

✩ one of them noticed how steve was keen to look for danger from all angles, never brought his ego into his flying, studied the manuals like the back of his hand, and always volunteered if someone fell behind, claiming “we’re all on the same team here.”

✩ that instructor called him and charlie into his office, promising that after they finished deployment, they would both be sent to Top Gun.

✩ one night at the local dive bar, charlie spotted a pretty blonde who was shamelessly brushing her manicured fingers all over steve's arm, obviously intent on going home with the man in a white shiny uniform.

✩ charlie was a few drinks in, so when he heard a stevie wonder song start to play on the jukebox nearby, he got a brilliant idea.

✩ stumbling over to steve, charlie pulled him aside towards the back of the bar. when the rest of their friends nudged steve to dance with this girl to this particular song, he didn't think anything of it. too loose and warm from chugging three beers to consider the repercussions, so he agreed.

✩ unfortunately for him, some of the instructors that had a special nickname for steve were there that night. when he lead the girl to the dance floor, the cheers steve heard solidified how much he had fucked up.

“go on, wonder boy! dance with her!” “yeah go on, stevie wonder!”

✩ ever since that night, charlie and the rest of the guys called him "stevie" every chance they got.

✩ a few days into their courses at naval air station miramar in san diego, california, the inside jokes and embarrassing pats on the back led to steve’s official callsign, WONDER BOY.

✩ steve is humble about his flying expertise, but he's also aware that he’s one of the best. he worked hard to become a lieutenant, especially after defeating vecna nearly killed him.

✩ he's known for his incredible precision with firing guns and missiles while being able to stay focused on tricks in the sky. dustin claims he's responsible for his talents after forcing him to play duck hunt at the arcade a few summers ago.

✩ steve doesn’t fly for the adrenaline, but he can’t deny how much he loves the feeling of reaching mach two in an F-14 with gravity pushing the air out of his lungs.

✩ he’s the one that everyone feels safe with.

✩ he never. ever. leaves his wingman. no matter what.

✩ the other pilots know not to speak to him during preflight setup. if they try, steve politely stays quiet and continues programming his systems and checking the landing gear.

✩ if anyone dies from negligence on his part, he’ll never fly again. steve could spend hours checking and re-checking his plane before trainings, but he trusts his routine.

✩ since moving to california, steve has not only gotten tanner, but he has a certain glow to him. his shoulders are broader, his arms are stronger, and he’s toned enough to be called a roman statue by dustin when he comes to visit.

✩ robin calls him every three days to hear how his classes are going and to make sure he’s doing okay, knowing that the shift from hawkins to san diego couldn’t have been easy. he's never missed answering the phone.

✩ he insists on waking up an hour earlier to style his hair every morning with the same farrah fawcett spray from high school, even though his helmet always messes up the work.

✩ the other pilots become his found family. yes it’s a room of insane levels of testosterone, but they all genuinely respect one another and have each other’s backs.

✩ if any of them have children, steve is the designated babysitter. never hesitating to offer his services, saying they can call for anything. 

✩ their wives are always trying to set him up with their friends, but nothing ever stuck... until you.

a/n: top gun has always been one of my favorite films, so i was incredibly excited to bring my knowledge & thoughts into this !!! sage @the-night-we-met-011 this sneaky precious anon/friend/moot of mine just informed me she was the brains behind stevie wonder.... everyone give her kudos. round of applause !!!!!! thank you so so much for slipping this into my inbox. the butterfly effect is insane.

big thank you to my moots that listened to my constant freakouts & insecurities while starting this writing journey. @joekeerysbellybutton @graywrenhart @xpeachsunsidex — you guys are my rocks. i love you all so much. this is only the beginning.

if you would like to hear more, please let me know !!! i've got tons :)

[keer-y]

it could be

pairing: steve harrington/f!reader wc: 8k tags: fluff, friends to lovers, body worship, chubby/curvy reader, SMUT (nipple play, oral sex [f receiving], vaginal sex) a/n: please note that steve is a munch and i am using this to further the munch steve agenda. thank you. written for @yeahiveheardofbears-fics off of this prompt. i hope you like it!

“Steve?” you whispered into the phone, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Hey!” he greeted you, sounding happy to hear from you. At least someone did.

Your fingers curled around the receiver of your phone, the one your parents had allowed you to get for your 18th birthday, mostly because you were now a senior in high school, partly because you’d literally begged, and unbeknownst to them because you had a boyfriend.

Had now being the operative word.

A fresh wave of hot tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you kept them in by wibbling your lower lip and taking a shuddering breath. Which Steve undoubtedly heard because you could tell his mood shifted like you’d flipped a switch. Happy-to-hear-from-you Steve turned into concerned-I’ll-be-right-over Steve.

“You ok? Hey, what happened?” The warmth and tenderness in his voice is what finally made you cry.

“He dumped me,” you managed, voice quiet with shame, embarrassment. He’d warned you of this, everyone had. When you’d gotten together with—ugh, fuck, you couldn’t even think of his name without wanting to sob—your friends had all warned you that he wasn’t a good guy, that he only used girls to get what he wanted and then dropped them like a bad habit. 

But no. You hadn’t listened. You knew better. You were different. And he’d courted you for weeks before you’d agreed to go out with him. Surely if he’d just wanted sex he’d have found an easier mark?

God, you were stupid. 

“Whoa. Wait, what?” Steve asked, an edge to his voice that you rarely heard. Anger. Indignance, actually. On your behalf.

You forced your voice to steady. “He dumped me,” you said, clearer this time. It was met with a ringing silence, then Steve broke it.

“That’s what I thought you said. I’ll be right over.”

“Steve, no,” you protested. “It’s late and I’m…crying.” You had no idea why you hesitated, because it was obvious.

“Yeah, I know,” Steve said, his voice a soft caress, one you felt you didn’t deserve. Calling your oldest, best friend in the middle of the night because you couldn’t get your shit together enough to fall asleep felt pathetic enough that you just wanted to be alone.

Except you didn’t, not really. It was why you’d called Steve and not one of your girlfriends. Because you knew that neither hell nor high water would stop him from coming to comfort you.

“I’ll be right over,” he said again, and you only nodded, like he could see you, and wiped your face with a tissue.

“Ok.” 

&&

You’d hung up the phone after telling him that no, you didn’t want anything from the store on the way, and besides, nothing would be open at this hour anyway. The novelty phone that looked like a pink poodle had been so funny when you’d picked it out, but now it only felt like it was mocking you with its garish cuteness. Stupid fucking poodle.

It would take Steve a little bit to drive across town, so you got up from your bed and tried to straighten up a little before he arrived. You picked up the clothes littering the floor in front of your closet and pushed them inside, shoving the doors shut, then went to your dresser, capping your perfume bottles and organizing your makeup. You tried not to look, but caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. 

You looked a mess. Tear-streaked face, swollen eyes, hair tangled. With blurry vision you let your eyes rove over yourself. You’d always felt pretty, sometimes even hot, your curves pulling eyes from a ton of guys at school. Your ass was fantastic, and your thighs filled out jeans so nicely. You knew at least five girls at school who’d told you how jealous they were of the way denim clung to you. And your chest—please. For all intents and purposes, you were a knockout. You gave yourself a watery smile—and then dissolved into tears again. If that was true, then why were you single?

You were being stupid and on any other day, you'd know it, but at the moment you just had a mental block. Getting dumped could do that to a person.

A light tapping on glass drew your attention to the window behind you, and you glanced at it over your shoulder in the mirror. Silhouetted against your gauzy pink curtains, you saw who could only be Steve—the hair thrown into relief from the streetlights was a dead giveaway.

You stood still for a moment, willing yourself to stay composed, even as your heart thrummed in your chest. He'd come! You wanted to shout it from the rooftops, how fucking happy you were that someone had shown up for you. But of course he had—it was Steve.

Even though it took you a moment to cross over to the window, he didn't tap on it again, trusting that you'd let him in. And you did, pulling the drapes aside to reveal Steve crouching outside your room on the section of first-floor roof that still existed even after your parents had put a second floor over part of the house. You pushed the window up and open to allow Steve to climb inside; he always managed to be so careful and quiet that it impressed you every time.

Despite how happy you were to see him, as he closed the window behind him and fixed the curtains, you remembered the reason he was here and felt yourself getting emotional all over again.

“Hey,” he said, stepping over to you immediately and pulling you into a hug, rubbing your back as he held you. “Do you want a spiel or do you just want someone here?”

Shaking your head, you just let your arms fit around him too, resting your cheek on his shoulder after a moment. You had no idea what you wanted, really, other than to have Steve here with you.

And truthfully, it felt nice to have something in your immediate vicinity that wasn't pissing you off by just existing. Steve was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a black sweatshirt, probably to aid him in sneaking up to your house at the late hour. His attire matched how you felt—and being in your bedroom, surrounded by pink, frills, fuzzy, and twee—it wasn't really what you needed at that moment.

“I hate him,” you mumbled into Steve's chest, and you felt him huff a short laugh, his hand coming up to rest at the back of your head.

“Yeah, I don't blame you for that,” he said. “Just came out of nowhere?”

You sighed and stepped back; Steve let you go, watching as you crossed to your unmade bed, crawling onto it. He tried (not that hard actually) to avert his eyes from the shorts you were wearing as pajamas, your thick thighs on display as you situated yourself against your headboard, surrounded by throw pillows and stuffed animals.

“I guess,” you said, picking up one of the pillows, rainbow stripes with ribbon around the edges that looked like clouds. You held it to your chest. “I don't know. No? Maybe?”

Steve stepped over to the bed, gesturing to it, asking without words whether he could join you. You nodded. He sat down and kicked off his shoes, then scooched himself up to sit—well, not beside you, but close enough. You sniffled a little and tucked your face into the pillow you were holding.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked, his voice gentle, and you felt the rise of heat in your cheeks.

“He—” you began, but your voice cracked. Steve moved himself a little closer, not touching you, but within reach to if he wanted. Head tilted to the side, Steve picked up one of your other pillows—the companion to the rainbow one you held, blue sky with little sequined bluebirds, cloud border and all—and held it in his lap, fidgeting with the ribbon. You took a breath, because he'd sit there all night waiting for you to say anything or nothing at all, just because that was who he was. “He said that I was fun but nothing to be serious about,” you said, shrugging, like it didn't cut you down to miniscule pieces.

Even in the dimness of your room, you saw Steve's expression change from curiosity and concern to irritation and disgust on your behalf. “He said that?”

You met his eyes, then looked away and nodded, focusing your gaze on the birds on his pillow instead.

“What an absolute...dickhead,” Steve said. You'd never heard him sound so annoyed, and you lifted your gaze to his face again. He was staring at you, lips parted like he was trying to think of what to say, but then he closed them and just scoffed. “Guy can have any girl he wants and fumbles the best one. Unbelievable.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You narrowed your eyes a little, mostly to help you focus as you had started tearing up again, and you cleared your throat before speaking, though the emotional lump still kind of remained. “What?”

“I mean,” Steve said, like he hadn't quite meant to say that aloud and now that he did had to do damage control. Like he'd showed his hand before he meant to, if he ever meant to. “Just. Look at you.” He gestured vaguely at you where you sat, curled up around a pillow, on your bed. “I mean—Jesus Christ, that's not what I mean. I mean—” He paused, then added “goddammitStevestopsayingImean” under his breath. “—What I am trying to say is that in addition to your physical appearance, you have a wonderful personality.” He tried to smile, but ended up grimacing.

“Ok,” you said, honestly feeling a little amused if not also thrown off. “Thanks, Dad.”

Steve groaned. “No, look.” He covered his face with both hands. “You're a catch. You're smart, funny. You have excellent taste in décor,” he said, holding his pillow up as an example and then using it to gesture around the room at the baby pink paint you'd chosen, the gallery wall above your bed with photographs and art of flowers, nature scenes, still lives, even a triptych of a horse. On their own they would have looked out of place, but all together the effect was just artful, perfectly fitting the girly, cutesy vibe you were going for. His last comment made you giggle a little, which was what he'd been aiming for, so he continued.

“And, just. What I'm trying to say is that any guy would be lucky to have you. Seriously. He blew it.” He spoke softer now, not just lowering his voice but speaking from a place you hadn't considered before. “He didn't appreciate what he had. Who he had. You're—you're not just 'a catch'... that's not enough for you.”

Lifting your face from the pillow, you stared at Steve as he sat across from you, just spewing stream-of-consciousness thoughts.

“You're so much...more than that, you know?” He gave a short, unamused laugh. “Just saying it doesn't...get everything that you...are. You're like my dream girl.” He glanced up at you, meeting your eyes, realizing that not only had he said he out loud, but you heard it. “I mean just, a dream girl.” He paused. “No I don't, because you're not 'just' anything.” His eyes met yours. “Can you please say something so I can stop?”

“Steve,” you said. “Are you—” You gave a nervous chuckle, lowering the pillow down over your stomach; you watched as his eyes dipped down to your thighs, suddenly feeling very exposed in your shorts. At least your shirt had three-quarter sleeves, and your breasts were covered by the pillow. You'd never thought Steve would be interested in you—you'd seen the type of girls he'd gone for throughout your long friendship with him, and none of them looked like you. You were confident enough to know you were just as pretty in the face as them, but if you'd been pressed, you'd have said Steve had a definite type. Slender, angular faces; tapered legs and arms that didn't have any extra to them; mostly flat stomachs, no love handles or little rolls anywhere. Beautiful just the same, but in a different way. The only way you'd assumed Steve liked.

So Steve's confession caught you totally off guard.

“I'm sorry,” Steve said, looking away from you. “You're upset, I shouldn't have—said anything like that. It's not about me.” He looked back at you, pointedly only looking at your face this time.

“Did you mean it, though?” you asked, and he let his head tilt slightly to the side, mouth opening just a little, as he considered what he wanted to say.

“I...” He shrugged one shoulder, gave you a weak smile, like he wasn't used to this kind of thing being so difficult for him. “Yes.” He punched your pillow absentmindedly, then frowned down at it, realizing that it a) wasn't his and b) had a bunch of cute sequined birds on it that he'd pummeled for no reason.

You lifted a hand to wipe at your face, beneath your eyes and each cheek, making sure there were no residual tears or tear-stains on your skin. “Well that helps a little,” you joked, meeting Steve's gaze when he looked back up at you.

“I'm—glad, then,” he said, watching as you put the pillow to the side, averting his gaze from you completely now, because he'd just told you how valuable you were in the figurative sense, and it wouldn't do to objectify you even though you looked fucking tantalizing. You were going through something, he could keep it in his fucking pants for once.

The silence fell around you both like a blanket, warm and safe, wrapping the two of you in its comfort. You straightened your legs in front of you, crossed at the ankle, and let your hands come to rest on your thighs. “Thanks for coming over,” you said.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve replied, still squeezing the pillow on his lap. “Least I could do.”

“So, hey,” you said, after another lull in the conversation. Even though it was nice to sit with someone and not have to talk about anything—the way it had been with you and Steve for years—there was something you needed clarification on.

“Yeah.” Steve looked up at you, this time not quite succeeding in not giving you a once-over, but only because you were absently rubbing your legs with your hands, a nervous habit he'd always known you to have but never found distracting until right now.

“Before,” you began. “You said I was your dream girl.”

You practically heard his cheeks flush pink. “Ah, no, if you would kindly remember, I said a dream girl.”

“You said I was your dream girl first,” you said, needling him a little bit, the beginnings of a smile playing at your lips for the first time all day.

He scoffed a little. “Ok, well, the nature of being a dream girl means you can be anyone's dream girl.”

“So I'm not 'just' anything but I could, simultaneously, be 'anyone's' dream girl.”

“I didn't say that.”

“You just said that,” you said, and you were smiling now, for real; watching Steve get flustered was always entertaining because it didn't happen nearly often enough.

“Ok, well, I didn't mean it,” he deflected.

“What did you mean, then?” you asked, lilting.

Steve pursed his lips, like he didn't want to answer, but then it just burst out. “That you're my dream girl!” he said, forgetting for a moment to keep his voice low, lest he alert your parents—but the master bedroom was downstairs, on the other end of the house, because they hadn't wanted to move it upstairs after the addition, something you were immeasurably grateful for now.

You bit your lips from the inside, not wanting to laugh at his exclamation, his distress. But he was so cute with his wide eyes and his pout and his hair flopping around when he talked excitedly that you nearly couldn't help it, and a little giggle managed to bubble up from your chest.

“Ok, you know what,” Steve said, but you could tell by his tone that he wasn't actually angry. “If you're gonna laugh at me, I'll just go.” An empty threat: He didn't move, didn't even toss the pillow away to make it seem like the statement was going to happen.

“I'm not laughing at you,” you said, pulling yourself along your sheets to be closer to him. “I'm just laughing at—something you said before.”

He scowled, but his heart wasn't in it.

“Not the dream girl thing,” you said. “What you said about—how he fumbled the best girl.” Saying it felt silly, because you might have agreed with it on a better day, like one where you hadn't just been dumped, but Steve only nodded. “I almost did the same thing.”

Steve shook his head just a little, not understanding. “What do you...?”

You hesitated, then reached out and took the pillow off his lap, throwing it to the side, your hand curling around his forearm then, the fabric of his sweatshirt soft on your palm. “You,” you said. “I almost fumbled the best one, too.” It clicked for him then—you watched the comprehension dawn over his features, hazel eyes widening, mouth opening into a small O, then shifting into a nervous half-smile, morphing into a self-deprecating laugh.

“The two of us, honestly,” he mused, and you only tugged him closer by his arm.

The bedsheets rustled a little as he moved easily with you, shifting so that he wasn't sitting and facing you anymore but instead lying alongside you, both of you rolling onto your sides as you nestled into the plethora of pillows you had along your headboard.

“How do you sleep with all this crap here?” Steve asked, grabbing a purple teddy bear from beneath his shoulder and tossing it over him to land somewhere on the floor beside your bed. “Got no room.”

“I'm fine,” you said. “It's comfortable.”

“Uh huh,” Steve said, moving even closer to you, your fronts almost touching. You felt his hand hovering over your hip, like he was waiting for your permission to touch you, or for you to make the first move. “I'm sure you think so.”

You didn't rise to the bait, instead slanting yourself toward him, your front moving against his, and as soon as it did his hand was on you, only the fabric of your shorts separating him from you. He leaned in, his lips millimeters from yours before he caught himself.

“This is—ok, right? This is what you want?”

“Yes, Steve,” you said, finally taking pity on him and tipping your chin up a little, your lips catching his for the first time of what would hopefully be many, many more. He responded to it instantly, his hand sliding from your hip down to your ass, grabbing at it through the cotton of your shorts, as he parted his lips against yours, enticing you to do the same. You did—letting him in, his tongue flitting over your lower lip before licking into your mouth, kissing you just this side of deeply, but your eyes fluttered closed anyway, drawn into him as he pulled you closer, letting one of his legs move between yours, hips flush together.

In the back of your mind somewhere, you'd known: Steve Harrington was a good kisser. You'd heard girls at school say it, talk about it, dream about getting to experience it someday. And now, in the dark of your bedroom, you could chime in if you were ever so inclined: He wasn't just good. He was amazing. Every single movement against you felt calculated, attentive, his free hand came up between you to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently over the apple of your cheek as his mouth worked with yours, soft and supple, easy and slow, in contrast with the way he was positively groping your ass and thigh, fingers sinking into your plush skin, pulling your leg up over his hip so he could grind his hips against your core.

“Steve,” you squeaked, laughing a little at how high and excited your voice sounded, and he laughed quietly against the underside of your jaw, breath warm on your throat as he gave you a short-lived kiss there too.

“You're so—” Steve mumbled against your neck, lips trailing down as he ducked his head. He bent his leg where it rested between yours, his thigh pressing firm against your core, giving you something to roll your hips against while he focused on leaving kisses on the skin visible above the collar of your shirt. He sighed as he reluctantly moved his hand up from your leg to slide it beneath the hem of your shirt, the heel of his hand skimming over your stomach, fingertips stopping just short of reaching your breast. “Gorgeous,” he sighed, and you swallowed, not sure what you expected him to say but happy after all that that was what he'd gone with.

You could sense his hesitation as his hand splayed out on your front, nudging up little by little until his fingers just pressed against the curve of your breast; his eyes were on yours again, waiting for the green light, and you quirked one eyebrow and nodded, and then his hand was engulfing you, pushing your shirt up and out of the way, thumb sliding over your nipple repeatedly to perk it up for him. His mouth latched to your neck, sucking a kiss there, hard enough you hoped it would bruise, so everyone would know you'd moved on with a much better person.

Steve circled your nipple with his thumb, flicking it back and forth before he pulled away from your throat; you wanted him to linger, but you had to agree there were better places he could focus his attention, and he did exactly that, letting his lips wrap around your nipple, sucking it softly as you inhaled sharply, arching your back toward him as his arm moved down, slipping around your back and holding you against him, his thigh still putting pressure between your legs, making you whimper softly above him. Lifting the arm you weren't resting on top of, you carded your fingers through his hair, brushing it back away from his forehead so you could see the way his nose was pressing into your breast, his lips wrapped around your nipple, teasing it inside his mouth with his tongue and teeth. It was so good, and you had barely even started; it had you grinding your cunt down against his leg, wanting to take some of the edge off, but there were just too many layers on you to really feel it, even as you hoisted your leg up a little further over him.

“God,” he gasped, pulling off of you for a moment before licking his tongue flat over your peaked nipple. His hand had wandered down your body again to your thigh, squeezing and feeling it, rubbing palm flat against your soft, smooth skin, and once he had a good grip on you he shifted both of you so he was on top, your legs falling open around him to he could settle between them.

Another sigh of his name fell from your lips, and now you had both hands on him, one still tangled in his hair, the other on his shoulder, walking your fingertips down his arm to his elbow, then to his wrist, grabbing his hand with yours. You felt him smile as he pulled off of your nipple to switch to the other one, laving his tongue over it before drawing that into his mouth, too.

Lower, where you were pressed together, he bucked his hips down into you just a little, enough to hear you gasp his name, and you rolled yours right back up into him. He pulled off of you with a groan, meeting your eyes for just a brief moment before he gripped your hand tighter and surged up to kiss you again, nose bumping yours. It wasn't slow or easy this time, it was rougher, harder, Steve licking into your mouth and you falling open for him, allowing him access to every part of you.

The hand he had on your thigh slid a little further up, slipping inside of your shorts, feeling the fold of your body where your leg met your abdomen, and you twitched away a little, half ticklish and half self-conscious. Steve clocked it, broke the kiss. “Sorry,” he said, nose against your cheek as he moved to kiss you there, your temple, the shell of your ear. “Forgot you're ticklish everywhere.”

“Sure you did,” you said, deciding to play it off—this was Steve. It was very clear—very clear given the empirical evidence resting against your clothed cunt right now—that he more than liked your body.

“I did,” he insisted, kissing your ear again before taking the lobe between his lips, tugging on it for a moment before centering himself above you again, looking down at you, eyes roving over your face, a small smile gracing his lips. He loosed a little sigh, then lowered his mouth to yours again, not saying a word but instead conveying everything to you with a kiss. This one was languorous and when he pulled away you felt heady with it, intoxicated just from the way he'd kissed you, his tongue and lips moving so sensually with yours that you felt breathless beneath him. “Believe me now?”

“What?” you asked, no idea what he was referring to—that kiss had scrambled your brain.

Lifting his hand from your thigh, Steve brushed your hair back behind your ear, smirking, amused, as he pushed himself up and off of you. Now you squirmed a little, your body on full display, shirt pushed up over your tits, shorts riding up higher than normal, your curves completely exposed; but the way he was looking at you didn't make you feel shy. He was looking down at you like he wanted to eat you up, and that...that felt good.

“God,” he said again, sitting on his knees between your legs and settling his hands on your hips, sliding them slowly up your body, avoiding purposely tickling you as they traveled up. He cupped your breasts, letting his thumbs work both your nipples at the same time, looking down at them as he played with them. You kept your eyes on his, needing to know where he was looking, but when he flicked them up to yours, you felt caught. “I just can't get over that moron,” Steve said. “What an idiot to break up with you.”

“Steve,” you said.

“Sorry, I don't mean to bring it up again, I just—” With that he took his hands off you and gestured at you with both hands. So much for not objectifying you. “Look at you.” He said it with such reverence that you couldn't help but feel your self-confidence move up a couple notches.

“Yeah?” you asked, trying to be coy but coming off as genuine instead. Steve either didn't notice or didn't care, happy to build you up.

“Yes,” he said, and leaned forward. You expected him to lie atop you again, kiss you more, but what he actually did was just press his knuckles into the bed and push himself backward, moving down your body instead of up toward you. Shaky hands settled back at your waist, hesitating above the waistband of your shorts. “Can I?” he asked, voice a whisper.

You studied him for a moment, then nodded. He looked like you'd just given him everything he'd ever asked for, and before you really registered it, your shorts and panties were off, flung to the side of your bed and probably landing on top of the teddy bear that he'd disposed of before. As you watched, Steve lowered himself flat to the bed between your thighs and hooked his arms around them, pulling you a little down the bed toward him, your pussy right in his face. Pushing yourself up for a moment so you were seated, he stared up at you as you shrugged your shirt off, letting it fall to the bed beside you and then laid back down, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could watch him, framed by your thighs. He was grinning up at you, and as far as you could see he kept right on grinning as he lowered his face to your wet folds and licked.

A full-body shudder overtook you as Steve's tongue slid over you, your stomach tensing up and then releasing all the air in your lungs in a heavy sigh. He kept his eyes on you, you could see him watching you—and when you gave him that reaction with your whole being, he doubled his efforts, the tip of his tongue seeking your clit as he buried his face against your folds. Your whole body kicked again when he found it, hips lifting up on their own as he teased your clit with his tongue before pushing in further, parting you with his lips to work your clit with them instead. He closed them over your clit, sucking softly at first, pulling soft mewls from you as he gripped your thighs tight, fingertips pressing divots into them as he clung to you.

You ground your pussy against his face, and that only spurred him on—he sucked a bit harder, his eyes slipping closed as he genuinely seemed to be enjoying going down on you; and hell, you enjoyed watching him do it, just as much as feeling it. He pulled back only to sigh heavily against your leg, pressing a long, wet kiss there, before diving back in, this time letting his tongue tease your slit, just barely letting it dip inside you before he was moving back up. He sucked at your clit, your labia, everywhere he could just to taste you, moaning against you like he was doing this for himself too, not just you. And with how eagerly he was mouthing at you, maybe he was.

“Steve,” you said, your hand tight around a fistful of his hair. “You're—fuck,” you said, “you're so good at that.”

Steve's eyes opened, meeting yours again, and he only gave your thighs a little squeeze, which you took as a thank you for the praise. But he didn't pull away, only leaning into you a bit further, a bit harder, his shoulders pressing solidly into the backs of your thighs as he fucked his tongue into you properly now, the slick muscle easily moving into your slit, loosened by your arousal, his saliva, the ease at which being with someone like Steve made you feel.

Your hips kicked up again—he wasn't expecting it and his mouth slid away from you, both of you gasping: You at the loss of contact, him for breath. The thought struck you that he would literally rather get you off than breathe, and it felt like such a Steve thing that your chest clenched a little at the very thought.

“You close?” Steve asked, his voice unsteady, his lips wet with you.

“Yeah,” you sighed, and reached down toward your pussy, but Steve's arm moved faster—he grabbed your wrist, gently, and guided your hand down to rest atop your stomach.

“I got it,” he said, placing his hand exactly where you'd been about to, and let his thumb rub smooth, short circles over your clit.

“Oh—” You weren't sure why it took you by surprise, the pressure and easy slide of his finger over your sensitive clit, but once his mouth was back on you, you allowed yourself to drown in the pleasure, the way Steve's hand was splayed out on your tummy, the way he kept his pace over the bead of your clit and the hood even, steady, predictable, so you could use him how you needed, tell him what you wanted. “Fast-Faster,” you asked, and Steve listened, circling your clit in smaller, tighter circles, his pace quickening like you asked. Your body tensed, coiled, your hips lifting into his face and then pulling away, too much and not enough at the same time. His lips were against you, on you, sucking at your pussy before licking inside of it, again and again, tasting you—no, savoring you.

You felt when it was about to hit you, and you reached down to take hold of Steve's wrist, nearly dislodging his hand from your clit, but he held firm, coaxing you closer and closer with his mouth, his hands, one between your legs, the other still wrapped around your thigh, pressing points into your leg so hard it almost hurt, but that only made your orgasm even stronger when it came, every part of Steve that was touching you on fire, your body lit up with it, with him—your back arched off the bed and Steve moved with you, lapping at your pussy like he never wanted to pull away, never wanted to stop making you feel so good that you physically couldn't stay still.

Spent, thighs shaking on either side of him, you fell back to your bed, staring down your body at him between your legs. He didn't stay there for too long, though, instead pushing himself up and crawling over you, pausing to at least strip his shirt off before he settled on top of you again. You tilted your face up to where he was holding himself above you, the points of his elbows digging into the mattress beside your shoulders, and he leaned down slowly to kiss you like he had before, like it was something he wanted to get exactly right and would make all the effort to do so.

Your hands moved over his shoulders, arms, down his chest, playing with the thick patch of hair on his chest with your right hand while your left moved to cover his, where it had risen up to cup the side of your face.

“All right, well,” you said, when he pulled away. “I feel better now.”

He laughed, hiding his face against your front before pulling back so he could look at you properly again. “I, um. I'm glad. Good, that's good.”

You pulled his hand away from your face and curled your fingers around it, holding it as you ran your other hand through the soft hair on his chest again. For some reason it felt surprisingly intimate, though you weren't sure why. You'd been with guys before, so the underlying reason had to be—Steve. One of your friends—one of the longest-running ones you had—had just gone down on you in the middle of the night, was lying shirtless with you in your bed, and was treating you like you hung the sun, moon, and stars in the sky. Sex was not something foreign to you—this level of intimacy was. You thought you liked it.

You let your fingers trail up from Steve's chest to the side of his neck, gently brushing over his skin and up to his cheek, finally ending up in the coif of hair again. “Did you want to, um. Keep going?” you asked.

He hesitated. You assumed that the word “Yes” was right on the tip of his tongue—you could feel him poking against your hip, even though his jeans—but he didn't say it. Instead, he shook his head a little. “No, that's not why we—God, that's not why I...did that. I just got caught up, I don't want you to—to feel like you have to. That isn't what this was.” He said all of that but, again, didn't make a move to actually get off of you. Empty threat after empty threat with this one.

“It could be, though,” you said, and Steve snapped to attention, his eyes fixed on yours. They dipped down to your lips, then back up, so quickly you wouldn't have noticed had you not been watching him.

“It...definitely could be,” he said, nodding a little in agreement. “Do you, um, want it to be? That?”

A smirk quirked the corner of your lip up, just enough to put him at east. “Yeah, I do,” you said, confident, assertive. Steve mirrored your expression with a cocky half-smile of his own, and he leaned down to kiss you before moving off of you, sliding off the bed.

“I don't have, uh, anything though,” he said, his back to you as he unbuttoned his jeans. He turned before unzipping them. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” you said, sitting up a little. “I'll get it.”

“No, no,” Steve said, holding out his hands toward you. “You stay right there. Where am I looking?” he asked, turning toward your nightstand.

“Top drawer of my dresser,” you said, pointing. “Left side.”

He padded across your room, pulling his socks off as he went, opening the top drawer. You watched as he stood perfectly still, looking down into it for a moment, before reaching in and plucking a condom from the pack you kept in there. He held onto it, closed the drawer, and then turned where he stood to look at you.

“I would have appreciated a heads up that that drawer also held every single one of Victoria's secrets,” Steve said, and you giggled, trying to look innocent as he returned to your bed. He handed you the condom, his fingers pressing it into your palm in a way that felt intentional, like he just wanted contact with you, and then he finally unzipped his jeans, pushing them down. You watched—of course you did—as he took his briefs with them, and then all of a sudden you'd both seen each other naked and it still just felt like he was your best friend, and this wouldn't change anything.

He let you look for just a moment, appraising you just the same—from a little distance, able to see the full picture. The thatch of hair on his chest continued in a thin line down to his bellybutton and on even further, leading your eyes to his cock, half-hard already. He coughed, and you looked up at his face.

“Sorry,” you said, embarrassed at being caught, but he only knelt on the bed beside you.

“Nah,” he said. “I'd be a hypocrite if I called you on it. Except I ain't half the looker you are, so what's wrong with you?” he said, reaching up to tap you on the temple. You batted his hand away, but you both laughed a little. Yours was cut short by him bending over you to kiss you again, tongue pressing against yours briefly; he pulled away and settled himself between your legs, caressing your thighs.

You tore open the condom, fiddling with the wrapper as Steve reached down and took himself in hand, stroking quick and loose to get himself fully hard so he could put the condom on. You watched, your lips parting a little at the sight of his hand ringing his thick cock, tongue lingering at the corner of your mouth without you really giving it any mind.

“Tonight's about you,” Steve said, his voice breaking a little on the first word, which he pretended didn't happen and you didn't care that it did—you were mainly amused that he'd correctly assumed what you were thinking. “But, you know, maybe next time I have a shitty day...”

“Doesn't have to be a shitty day,” you said, holding out the condom, still in the wrapper, one side ripped open.

Steve gave a short “Hah” like he wasn't sure if he should be amused or even more turned on, but he just nodded to himself. “Good to know.” He took the condom from you, tossing the wrapper to the side and rolled it on, making sure there was extra room at the tip and then held onto it on either side of his length with his index and middle fingers.

Settling down a bit onto the bed, you tipped your hips up, exposing your pussy fully to him, and he took a breath, exhaled forcefully, and then leaned over you, balancing on his knees and one hand.

The moment hung quiet and heavy, and then you felt him nudging your slit with the head of his dick, pressing gently so you knew he was going to enter you. You reached up to hold the arm bracing beside you, coiling yours around it, hand settling into his unbent elbow, as he leaned against you a little harder, the head notching into your cunt, slotting into you and stretching you even though he'd barely pushed in.

A low moan emanated from your chest, your head tipping back against your pillow, as Steve moved into you slowly, gradually, not pulling out but easing himself in inch by steady inch. You had no idea how much time passed, but the slide was intense in the best possible way. You took him fully, his hand curled into the sheets beside you, the other rubbing your thigh, hoping to help you relax, calm your tense body enough to let him in.

It worked—he was fully seated in you, his hips against yours, and he waited for you to move before he pulled out just a little. Your reaction was instantaneous—a loud groan, your walls fluttering around him, squeezing down on the intrusion, the delicious stretch not something you were used to, not even close.

“Tell me when I—when you're good,” Steve said, the tightness of his voice showing he was just as affected as you were.

“One sec,” you said, wanting to experiment first. You circled your hips, feeling him slide out of you before you took him back in, and you felt it, felt him deeper than anyone before. “Just—one sec.”

He smoothed his hand over your front, your stomach soft beneath his palm. “As many seconds as you need,” he said, and then, like an afterthought, like he wanted to try it, just to see how it tasted in his mouth, “babe.”

You looked up at him from where you lay below him, halfway to shocked before realizing you shouldn't be—this was Steve, the romantic, who had been talking about his plans for a large family since forever, who called you his dream girl, who would go above and beyond just for you while expecting nothing in return, because that was how much he cared.

“Like that,” you said, low, so quiet you weren't sure if he heard it. But a smile appeared, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners. He didn't mention it again, but he skimmed his hand up your front to cup your breast, rubbing your nipple until you lifted your hips again.

“Ok,” you said, squeezing down on him just to see him need to take a second because of the sudden pressure all around his prick inside you. “I think I'm good.”

Steve returned his hands to your thighs, hiking your legs up and over his hips, then leaned over you, both hands pressing into the bed on either side of your shoulders now. He moved out of you, then back in, your arousal helping him, aiding him as he fucked you.

“Oh my god, Steve,” you said, squeezing his waist with your knees as he thrust into you; you could tell he was trying to move slowly, start off easy, build you up over time, but he couldn't quite manage it. He fucked you quick and sloppy, his thrusts a little erratic as he began, but as your hands moved to his upper arms, fingers digging into his skin, feeling the tensing muscles, he found a rhythm that had you almost constantly moaning beneath him, his own soft grunts and groans falling all around you. All you could do was hold onto him, taking him as he lowered himself to his elbows, your fronts touching now, the angle at which he was moving inside of you changing, hitting you in different places, better places, the drag of the ridge of his cock now stimulating you in the same place with every. single. thrust and you gasped out his name at the feeling of it after a few instrokes.

Without even consciously doing it, you felt your palm sting a little as you slapped your hand onto the back of his neck and pull him down closer to you, your faces bumping together in a harsh kiss, all teeth and lips at first, slowly devolving into tongue and spit and the hungry devouring of each other's mouths, your bodies moving together roughly, urgently, desperate for release even though you'd already come once and he'd just started.

Your arousal was intertwined with Steve's: The more frantically he moved and kissed you, the more you pushed your hips into his as he fucked down into you, his cock heavy, thick inside you, your thighs hot and wet, skin slick, and you almost didn't even notice that he'd moved his arm away from your hand until you felt a white hot streak of electricity shoot through your body as his fingers moved over your clit, playing with it as he fucked into you, slower now, like he was trying to hold off, trying to let you finish first before he even considered letting himself go.

“Steve,” you said, your voice weak and scratchy from the sheer amount of vocalizing you'd been doing just since he entered you. “That's—right there, babe, please—”

His hips snapped forward into you at the pet name, like he hadn't been expecting you to say it too, and he groaned—he'd just come, you could tell by his face, by his furrowed brow, by his eyes screwing shut and his lips parting; you weren't far behind him, your cunt clenching around his pulsing cock, his fingers still working on your clit even as he was coming inside of you, filling the condom with his release. Your breath hitched as your orgasm ripped through you; you came around Steve, feeling every inch of him where he stayed, deep inside, waiting for you to finish before moving at all.

You gave one last, heavy sigh, and then the next thing you knew, Steve was pressed flat against you, kissing you softly, hands at your waist to hold onto you. He pulled away slowly, like he didn't want to, and backed off of you, easing his cock out, rubbing you below your bellybutton as you whined at the feeling of it, the stimulation and then the emptiness.

“You good?” Steve asked, thumb brushing over the soft skin of your stomach.

“Yeah, I'm...” you huffed a breath. “So good.” You opened one eye, peeking up at him. “You?”

“I'm ok,” he said, flippant, and you opened both eyes, glaring up at him until you saw his playful expression.

“Jerk,” you said, hitting at his arm, though he didn't move his hand.

“Well, this jerk needs to clean you up. How likely am I to get caught by the parental units?”

“Not likely,” you said. “But I'll go... you stay.”

He clambered off of you and helped you sit up, watching your naked form as you crossed the room. You caught a glimpse of him in the mirror over your dresser—he was watching you with pure adoration, appreciation. You smiled to yourself, just a little, glad things had worked out the way they did. Thought to yourself, as you opened your bedroom door, rolling your eyes at how you’d both almost missed out on each other,

The two of us, honestly. && taglist: @freakygyatt @sunriseinhawkins @kravitzwhore @snoopyharrington @ghostlyriddles

[moonstoneandmoonlight]

me after reading this

[keerycentral]

#stealth skill: zero

[rylandsgrace]

#They should start a band

[polytrixaf]

dont forget that YOU 🫵 are the backbone of this fandom. oh but im not a- DONT CARE. write a bad fic, draw that silly art, make that tumblr post with your headcannon. oh but i have nothing to share- DONT CARE. kudos that fic, write a nice comment, gush in the tags of a reblog.

YOU 🫵 ARE CREATING A FANDOM SPACE BY EXISTING AROUND AND ENCOURAGING CONTENT CREATION

what YOU 🫵 say has impact. make it a good one.

[joekeerysbellybutton]

My british lovelies… anyone watching the love island final rn

[joekeerysbellybutton]

Unclean

Since 1983 Steve has felt the filth of another dimension clothe his skin – you are the only one who can wash it all away.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC: ~4k

Tags: post epilogue, Steve has ptsd, slight angst in the intro, established relationship, cum play, cum eating/feeding, finger sucking, unprotected p in v, oral (m!receiving), spitting, leg riding?, like a lot of fluids, tit sucking, grinding on stevie’s tummy :), reader has an innie belly button (sorry to my outies), very brief toe sucking (idk how that happened), fingering, slight overstimulation, kinda somnophilia at the end, fluff

Notes: who would have thought a simple request for cum play would take me on the journey that was writing this. It’s gone through so many different iterations and I’m really pleased with how it turned out. This is my first time delving more into Steve’s psyche and it’s been a really fun challenge. Thank you @pillartopost for the request, this is probably not what you expected but I hope you – and all the rest of you – enjoy! <3

Masterlist

Steve did not like to feel unclean.

It reminded him of that place he refused to name now that it ceased to exist.

How its thick, damp air clung to his clothes, his hair, his skin. How its spores seeped into his blood stream through his lungs. The feeling of being coated in other worldly substances, the stickiness of blood – both his and that of the people he loved.

Each time Steve came back from that place, he scrubbed his skin raw but he could not exfoliate away the lingering ick.

That ick led to Steve having a vigorous hygiene routine. He showered first thing in the morning – rinsing off the cold sweat of his nightmares – and last thing at night. Often also during the day, especially after jogging around the dusty baseball field all afternoon.

All that came out in the wash.

The thing that truly made him feel filthy did not.

Even two years on from the last time he flipped, he could feel it under his skin. Settled in his bones like a constant chill of a ghost passing through him. He wondered if it would ever fade or if he was cursed to feel the coldness of guilt deep within him for the rest of eternity.

Then came you.

You who brought warmth when he shivered, heat when he froze, and love when he felt like he wasn’t worthy of it.

Steve was not a religious man, hadn’t been for a while and he’s not sure he ever really was. Yet he worshipped at your altar and drank from your body like it made him holy, drowning the devil inside himself.

Yes he felt you from within, he felt you bloom from his chest, but he needed to feel you everywhere. Needed you to cover his skin so he could feel something slick that wasn’t from a creature of his nightmares but the girl of his dreams.

You gave him what he needed. You didn’t ask questions. Didn’t ask why his first instinct when he jolted awake in the middle of the night was to slide down beneath the sheets and rub his sweaty face into your cunt.

Why would you when he made you feel so good. When he pulled every ounce of your love from you and you still found more to give.

In return you welcomed all that Steve had to give – which was a lot.

Because the more he slathered himself with you, the more he needed to give you the same treatment.

It wasn't to show dominance, it was a display of devotion. A primal compulsion to cover you, like it would protect you from all that he had seen. A second skin made of him. Whether it was by trailing saliva between your breasts or smearing his cum over your rear.

At first Steve worried that the rot was so deeply set inside him, that anything that expelled from his body would corrupt you, the one thing in his life that wasn't sullied by demons. But each time you seeped under his skin as he snuck into you, part of him healed.

It became a ritual in which you claimed each other as lovers, partners, equals. It was better than any diamond ring Steve could put on your finger – though he knew he would do that too when the time was right.

Sex was merely foreplay. A means to get you slick, bathe in each other, before the ritual could begin.

Steve collapsed on top of you breathless and sweaty, his cock still twitching inside you from his release. You laid pressed between his warm body and the soaked sheets.

For most couples this was the end of the night, time to roll over and say goodnight – not you two.

When he regained enough of his energy, Steve flopped off you making you both wince at the loss of your bodily connection.

Your eyes raked over his form, his hairy chest already matted with sweat, curling into his belly button and down to the base of his cock. Evidence of both your releases clung to his pubic hair. He had slightly softened but you knew it wouldn't be long until he toughened up.

You reached over and traced a finger up the side of his length making Steve shiver. He was dripping with a mixture of you and him.

If there was one thing Steve loved more than covering you in him, it was covering each other in the combination of both of you. Like spitting into your palms and shaking hands, it bonded you in an unbreakable pact of dedication to one another.

The mixture gathered on your finger and Steve’s eyes followed your every move as you held up your glistening tip, took it into your mouth and sucked on it greedily. The taste danced on your tongue, a mix of sweet and salty that you craved more of.

You repeated your movements but this time raised your finger to Steve. Without hesitation he opened his mouth for you eagerly. He sucked on your finger and you watched his eyes fall shut in complete satisfaction as he hummed around it.

“We taste so good together, don’t we babe,” you said to him.

Steve nodded, your finger still firmly within his lips.

You pulled it from his mouth with a wet pop as Steve fought to keep it between his lips. You then shifted down the bed, your face level with his cock that you noticed had gotten considerably harder in the last thirty seconds.

Steve sat up on his elbows to watch as you gave his leaking tip a quick peck. You knelt between his legs, feeling his release drip out of you but you clenched your thighs together to keep it in.

With a tight grip you held him at the base, rubbing your parted lips over his tip and smearing the fluid over you like lipgloss.

“Hmm, baby,” Steve hummed. “You look so good like this.”

You smiled as you looked up at him, his tip still pressed against your lips. “So do you.”

Without much warning, you took Steve’s cock into your mouth, moaning around it at the taste you craved.

“Fuck,” Steve gasped and fell back against the pillows.

Your tounge swirled around his head, building up even more wetness from your saliva. It dribbled down his shaft all the way to where you still gripped him at the base.

“God, your mouth is insane,” Steve groaned. He threaded a hand through your hair, pushing it out the way of your face so he could get a good look at you.

His other hand held your cheek as you took him deeper, your eyes fixed on his. Steve fought every urge he had to thrust up into your mouth but he wanted this to last, wanted to see just how much of a mess you could make on his cock.

You hollowed out your cheeks as you dragged yourself off him at an agonisingly slow pace. All sorts of fluids connected your mouth to Steve’s length and you raised your hand up to thumb over his slit, spreading the wetness over him.

“You like getting all messy on my cock, don’t you baby.”

You hummed in agreement, licking your wet lips.

“Why don’t you show me just how messy you can get, huh?”

With that you spat on directly on his throbbing head as you continued to coat his cock. Not like you were even trying to get him off, just trying to soak every inch of him – and there were a lot of inches.

Steve was mesmerised as he watched you drool over him, licking and sucking like he was a God damn lolly pop.

“My pretty girl,” he mumbled lovingly.

You were almost certain there was nothing objectively pretty about the scene between Steve’s legs. But to him it was even more beautiful than a summer sunset or the full moon brightly glowing over the lake. The way you gave yourself to him with the same mouth that spoke those three words that kept him on the surface when he felt like falling through the ground.

You looked back at him with the same intense look he gave you, watching as Steve grew a little more delirious with each lick of your tongue. His chest puffed up, a red flush creeping up his neck all the way to his ears. The image made your slick soak down your thighs.

With Steve’s cock half in your mouth, one hand twisting around what your wet cavern couldn’t cover, the other braced on his hip, you swung a leg over one of his and set yourself down on it. Your dripping cunt made contact with his shin and you gasped around Steve which forced you to take him deeper. His fat head hit the back of your throat and you rutted against his leg, the burn in your throat filtering down into your core.

“Ugh– holy shit,” Steve marvelled at you as you humped his leg like a fucking dog.

You groaned deeply, moving your mouth up and down his cock in time with the rock of your hips. The hard bone of his leg hit your clit almost painfully, the hair there provided a little fiction before it became too saturated. The pressure quickly built, making you slobber down his length just as much as you were soaking his leg.

Steve, always one to try to coax more out of you, jutted his leg up into you. He didn’t care that it made you whine so hard you pulled off his cock, not when you looked as good angelic as you did, anointing a part of him that hadn’t yet been blessed by your devoted cunt.

You lost all focus on Steve as you sat up, pressed your throbbing pussy down harder on his shin, and rode his leg, holding his knee for some support.

Evidence of Steve ran out from your mouth. Your jaw slack as you gave into your own needs, sliding your hips back and forth, your head flung back in pleasure and your eyes screwed shut. The pressure in your core felt heavy and ready to burst.

“Shit, baby, you look so fucking good,” Steve moaned. He couldn’t resist reaching down to touch himself. “Cum on my fucking leg–ah–fucking soak it.”

When Steve’s hand wrapped around himself, he whimpered feeling just how much you had drenched him there. An obscene symphony of squelching and moaning sang out from the two of you as you used each other to get yourselves off. You on Steve’s leg and him just the sight of you.

You fell forward, bracing yourself over Steve, your tits swinging above where he worked himself as you found the angle you needed to stimulate yourself enough to cum.

“Fuck, Steve–ugh–oh god.”

Your hands tightened in the sheets next to Steve’s waist, as he continued to jerk himself off below you. With you over him, it was impossible for Steve to not thrust up into his fist, his leg met your rhythm causing the pressure in your core to pop.

You pulsed over Steve’s leg and when he felt you soak him he followed your lead and shot his cum straight up into your chest.

Like a mind numbing circle of pleasure, the feeling of Steve coating you made you continue to move over his shin, messily sliding up and down to spread your slick. Steve stroked himself slowly, extracting as much of his cum on you before he simply dribbled down himself onto his hand.

You completely lost all ability to keep yourself up and collapsed to the side, slipping off Steve's leg and thudding to the mattress beside him.

It was almost as if you blacked out until you felt Steve’s wet hand stroke your face. You didn’t even open your eyes to him, just felt the warmth of his sticky palm on your cheek.

As tired as you were – and you were sure Steve was too by the way his breathing took awhile to settle – you knew the night wasn’t over. Not when Steve had just got your tits dripping with his cum.

“C’mon now,” Steve grunted and before you knew what was happening he was pulling you up by your armpits to be level with him. Your head quickly found comfort in the plush pillows as Steve got your limp body comfortable.

“You wanna keep going?” he asked so sweetly it made your teeth hurt.

You hummed in agreement nodding against the pillow, your eyes still shut and a content smile on your lips.

Steve chuckled softly, his hand back on your cheek and his thumb caressed your bottom lip.

“You know you have to say it, baby,”

Through heavy lashes you looked at Steve. His face was smooshed against the pillow next to you, his hair damp and stuck to his forehead, he was glowing in the dim light of the bedroom.

“I want to keep going,” you said slowly, enunciating each syllable so he knew you were certain.

“That’s my girl.”

Steve leaned in, brushing his nose against your cheek as he captured your lips in his. A series of quick but insistent pecks that quickly turned more heated once you got a bit of strength back. You felt Steve smile wide when you grabbed the back of his head to pull him closer.

You tangled together until you weren’t quite sure who was on top, sticky bodies pressed together as you rolled around the bed. Steve’s tongue was hot and needy against yours. Your foot brushed the wetness you left on Steve’s leg and you moaned deeply into him as you felt how you had coated him.

As you did, Steve’s tongue explored the depths of your mouth. You two created an extraordinary amount of saliva between your lips making wet smacking sounds as you swapped fluids back and forth.

When Steve’s lips pulled away from yours he was on top of you, pressed against your cum covered chest. As you parted slowly, a messy string of spit connected you. Steve slurped it up into his mouth and spat it back into yours – your lips parted and waiting. You whimpered at the impact.

You both took in long breaths that made your chests inflate. Steve’s hair tickled at your nipples with each inhale and his breath danced on your face with every exhale.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” Steve whispered.

His eyes darted across your face like he was trying to take in every little detail of you at once. His hand gently brushed the hair out of your eyes to see more.

“I love you, Steve,” you said so softly and so easily, like it was obvious, like it was natural.

Steve never got used to hearing you say it, especially when you said it first and with that accompanying brightness in your eyes like you really meant it.

So he took a while to respond. It didn’t make you worry he wouldn’t say it back – he always did. You just knew he needed to take a little moment, like he had to let the words hang in the air to make sure they were real, that you were real.

Then you stroked his jaw. That’s real. No evil could recreate a touch as soft as yours.

“I love you too,” he said finally and the flood gates opened.

“I love you,” he repeated, placing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I love you.” He kissed your jaw.

“I love you.” Your neck.

“So,” the base of your throat, “so,” your sternum, “fucking,” the swell of your breast, “much.”

Steve groaned wetly as he opened his mouth wide over your tit, taking the nipple into the heat of his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. He tasted himself on you and it only made him want more.

Not wanting to leave the other one neglected, Steve’s hand massaged at your other breast, his thumb rubbing his cum over the hard peak of your nipple.

Your breathing quickened under Steve’s touch. His body was heavy on top of yours, slotted between your legs. You wrapped them around him pulling him tighter into you and your core pressed against the pudge of his tummy, the trail of hair brushing your wet folds. Steve could feel it too, how you soaked the already matted hair.

He let out a breathless moan as he switched to your other tit, drooling over it, kissing, licking, sucking. The one he had previously slobbered on, now coated with a mixture of his cum and saliva, he kneaded firmly. Like he wasn’t just rubbing it over your skin but into it, getting it deep into your flesh through your pores.

Watching Steve completely lose himself in the messiness of your body made you grind your hips into his belly, getting him wet as he continued to drench your skin. He wasn’t so much cleaning his cum off you but adding to it.

He shifted down, trailing his mouth through the river he created that flowed from your chest into your belly button. He stopped there to dip his tongue into the hollowed out skin, lapping up what had collected.

He continued south. His lips grazed your glistening folds as he paused to breathe in your scent and chastely kiss you. He was gone before you could lean into the touch.

Steve crawled back off the bed as he dragged his lips down the inside of your leg leaving a wet trail down to your ankle. A chill skirted over your skin at the loss of Steve’s warmth but his eyes lit a fire inside you that kept you burning.

He stood tall at the end of the bed. His cock just as prominent, pressed up against his belly and swollen red like it was screaming for you.

His rough but comforting hand caressed your ankle as he picked it up and pressed a kiss to the arch of your foot. You sat up on your elbows as you watched Steve take your big toe in his mouth. Your eyes widened at him and his never left yours.

“I didn’t know you were into that,” you commented, slightly teasing but you enjoyed the wet warmth of his mouth around you more than you expected.

Steve released your toe with a pop to speak, “I’m into you.”

He lowered your leg back down to the mattress a smirk on his face. “Every bit of you.” His calloused fingers grazed up the outside of your leg.

“From your edges.” Steve crawled back on the bed between your legs, his touch growing firmer as he reached closer to where you ached for him. “All the way to your middle.”

Two of Steve’s thick fingers were inside you before you could even comprehend them pressing at your entrance. The sudden intrusion shot fire up your spine, arching you off the bed as you cried out in pleasure, not even able to say so much as his name.

Steve started pumping his fingers in and out of you recklessly as if he was trying to see how loud he could make you squelch.

“So wet, don’t know how you got anything left.” It wasn’t said to tease you but to awe at how your body continued to give and give and give.

“Gah! Steve...” you choked.

You wrapped your hand around his wrist and Steve’s movements slowed to a lazy drag, massaging your walls with each pass through you.

“Too much?” Steve asked worryingly.

You shook your head adamantly. “No–ah–just…”

With your hand slipping down over Steve’s fingers, you joined him in the warmth of your cunt by inserting a finger along with his.

“Oh fuck,” Steve groaned as he felt your finger slide between his inside of you, your body arching into the fullness.

It felt more intimate than having his cock inside you. The two of you, practically holding hands, fingers intertwining, inside of you. Working together in perfect sync to make you see stars that were only visible in this dimension.

“Can you give us another, baby?”

Us, not him. Because when you tangled together covered in each other, unsure of where you ended and he began, there was no you or him, only us.

“Mm.” You nodded as much as you could. Your body was riddled with static, buzzing through your core to your limbs.

Steve thumb came to your sensitive clit, circling it slow but firmly as you both worked your fingers against your walls.

“You feel that?” Steve curled your finger into your spongey spot and you cried out a yes.

“Feel how it makes you clench?”

You did, your cunt clamped down on the combination of fingers inside it, the buzz evolving into a thudding pulse.

“Oh Steve, Steve–God–is so good, so fucking close… Steve, Steve!”

You repeated his name like you had every other word you ever knew sucked out along with your cum. Your body trembled with an overwhelming pleasure that stole your breath.

Steve took over to help you ride out your orgasm, his fingers helping to move yours softly until you squeaked and squirmed from the overstimulation.

He pulled his drenched fingers from you, yours slipping out along with them. Steve’s sticky hand rubbed slow circles over your tummy. The pressure helped ground you as you came down from your high.

Steve murmured loving things into the air surrounding you, as if his words could cloak you also.

So pretty.

Did so good.

I love you, baby.

He laid down next to you, his fingers dragged up your torso, leaving a slick path from your cunt. He settled his hand on your jaw to turn you to face him.

Your eyes were drooping, unable to carry the weight of being awake any longer.

“It’s okay, baby,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb over your eyelid, still damp with your arousal. “Go to sleep, I’ve got you.”

You shook your head no, slowly like it weighed a tonne.

“Baby…”

“Steve,” you croaked. “I can feel how hard you are.”

Steve laughed softly as he looked down to where his solid length pressed into your thigh. He hadn’t taken notice of the way he throbbed until now, having been content with vicarious pleasure through you.

“It’s okay,” he assured.

“No, it’s not.”

With all the strength you could muster, you rolled over and scooched your back into Steve’s chest. His cock rubbed against your ass as you wriggled into his grasp.

Steve let out a low grunt and opened his mouth to protest but you slid his hand around you to cup your breast and all of his words fell flat.

“You can use me, Steve. I want you to.”

Your hand encouraged his to squeeze your breast and Steve jutted into your cheeks at the feeling of your nipples still hard under his palm.

“But,” Steve said as he held back a moan. “You’re gonna fall asleep.”

“I like having you close. Please, Steve.”

You snuggled more into the warmth of his body, fighting back the pull of sleep enough so that you could be awake to feel him push into you. The feeling of Steve surrounding you and filling you quickly lulled you to sleep.

It didn’t dampen Steve’s spirits that you were completely able to sleep through him fucking you deep and slow, instead it warmed his heart. That you felt so at ease, so safe, as to let him – want him to – take what he needed from your body in its most vulnerable state.

Steve felt he could almost drift off all the same. The warm feeling of you taking him as you breathed softly and mumbled incoherently, settled in his arms like you were always meant to be there. Covered in each other's deepest, darkest parts that Steve never thought he’d feel so comfortable sharing let alone let sit on his skin for the night.

But each day with you healed a part of him. Until every corrupted cell in his body died off and was replaced with new ones that never knew the filthy worlds beyond – only you.

Now, in the safety of his right-side-up bedroom, for the first time since 1983 Steve felt clean.

Taglist: @ribeiroteresa97 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @delightfuldreamer09 @br4ndnewbabygirl

[pillartopost]

🤩😫

me because my mutuals are absolutely stunning writers

[neutralkink]

when their cock is so thick that you start to tear up and they just coo at you that it's okay they’ve got you you can take it look at how much is in already they’re just kissing your cheeks and licking up the little tears and

[xcaptive-baitx]

“You were made just for me to use like this” while I’m pinned in a mating press getting ruined

[gaptoothluv]

thinking about laying by the pool all day with steve…. rubbing sun lotion on his back…. the faint taste of sweat on his lip when he leans down to kiss you…. shaking his wet hair all over you like a dog when he gets out the pool…. the splat of your bikini top dropping to the patio when he finally peels it off you…. UGHHHH