Summary: You had never been to a school dance before. So when you find out about the winter formal, you figure your hellfire friends would be just as excited. What you don’t expect is to be mocked, especially by Eddie. Eddie loves to tease you, he never realises when he takes it to far. This was he way of flirting with you, even if you didn’t know that. But maybe this time he’s gone too far, when he might not be the one to take you to the dance.
Content Warning: use of y/n, a lot of angst, mean Eddie, fluff.
Word count : 5k (wow sorry)
A/n: I am from England so I’ve never been to a dance, so anything I got wrong I’m sorry. Also I know it says fem reader but feel free to change things when reading so it fits you.
Not prove read
You’ve never been to a school dance before, so when you hear about the winter formal you were so excited. Despite being part of the “freaks” table you lovedressing up. Even if your group leader always teases you about it, you didn’t mind but sometimes he could go too far without realising, but you always tried to be forgiving and not cause an issue. After all, you were a newer member of the group, well you had joined a few months ago but everyone else had longer on you, even the freshman. You figure this might be the one time Eddie wouldn’t tease you too much, everyone went to the prom even the nerds that’s what happened in the movies. You place your lunch tray on the table excited to talk about the dance. They were all talking about a new Metallica album, so you wait until they are finished to talk about the dance.
You pick at your food, resting your head on your hand waiting and listening for an opening to speak, but they don’t stop. You could just talk to them about it tomorrow you thought. Everyone laughs at Eddie’s air drum solo, while laughing, Gareth, who is sitting next to you accidentally nudges your elbow, causing you to lose balance and nearly face-plant the food. The noise causes the table to look at you. “Jesus Gareth you nearly made her wear her food, I know she likes fashion but I don’t know if a sloppy joe top counts as high fashion” Eddie jokes like it’s hilarious, you just roll your eyes.
You expect them to go back to their conversation but now Eddie’s eyes are on you he wouldn’t leave you alone. “Why are you so quiet?”. You shrug your shoulders “I was waiting”. Chris looks at you confused “waiting for what?”. Everyone’s eyes bore into you “waiting for you to finish your conversation, I didn’t want to interrupt”. Gareth smiles at you, “you’re never interrupting”. Eddie laughs a little but says nothing much to your surprise. “So what’s up?”. You smile “well..” you suddenly felt a little nervous, so you spoke softly “everyone’s talking about the dance, so I was gonna say we could get a limo or something and all go together or we could go separate if you have dates” you rambled.
The table fell silent. You look around. Had you said something wrong? Eddie shot up from his seat and found his way over to you. Holding onto your shoulders he gestures to the group in front of you. “Sweetheart if you wanted the popular table you are very lost”. You turn around as much as you could with his grip still on your shoulders, to face him. “Huh” you were truly lost what did the popular kids have to do with this? It’s not like you wanted to be prom queen. “God I thought you only dressed like them, now you are starting to sound like them”. Eddie put on a ridiculously high voice and let go of your shoulders to put on a show for his sheep. Skipping around the group to mock you, “Gareth don’t you think I have the prettiest dress? Chris, should I wear blue eye shadow or turquoise? Omg Jeff what about my nails, I can’t go to the prom without my nails done. Freshmen will you vote for me to be queen” the boys laugh (even the freshman, but mostly because they want to fit in not because they agree), like this is the most hilarious thing they have ever heard. He finds his way back to his seat “don’t be a cliche y/n”.
You felt a lump in your throat and you knew tears were about to pour. You didn’t want them to see you cry so got up from your seat, “see you at hellfire” you say, leaving the cafeteria. Gareth being forever the caring one looks at Eddie, “you took it too far”. He put his hands up “I didn’t force you all to laugh”, the group looked guilty. They thought it was friendly banter they didn’t think you were being serious about the dance. The hellfire club and school activities didn’t go together, so they didn’t know this was different for you. They had never had a girl in the group, they were still learning.
Gareth looks at Eddie and then the group “yeah and I shouldn’t have. I can admit when I’m wrong, can you?”. Eddie raises his eyebrow at the boy. No one questioned the dungeon master, so honestly, Eddie was surprised and kind of impressed, not that he would show it. “Watch it” Eddie sternly told the boy. Gareth rolls his eyes at Eddie, well this was new. “If she wants to go, one of us is going to have to take her”. The boys grumble, “shall we draw straws, shortest has to take her?”. Gareth hit his friend in the arm “grow up Jeff, is it such a bad thing to take a pretty girl to a dance? Jesus I’ll take her”. Chris kicks the boy’s leg under the table, he whispers harshly at him “don’t be a creep. You can’t call her pretty” the way he says this, is like it’s some kind of taboo subject. Chris looks to Eddie to back him up, who stays quiet, looking like he is contemplating something.
Gareth kicks back “you know just because she’s our friend doesn’t make her any less attractive. Plus I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just saying it’s not the worst thing. I swear to god you’re all like freaky freshmen”. Dustin and Mike look over to the conversation they had been trying to stay out of “hey!” Gareth looks over to them “no offence”. Eddie suddenly slams his ringed hands on the table, to get control and order back. “Enough! If one of us has to take her it’s gonna be me, that’s the job of the leader to take one for the team, right?” He looks around the table. “But you all owe me.”
Gareth was right Eddie thought there was nothing wrong with taking a pretty girl to a dance especially if it was you. He didn’t know you actually wanted to go, he was only teasing if you had only asked. He might have grumbled but he would have agreed eventually. He always teased you, and you always took it, never said anything, sometimes your hands would ball into tiny fists and you would have a little pout which Eddie found cute which he wouldn’t admit because finding things cute wasn’t metal. But he didn’t mean to upset you. Maybe asking you would make things right, even if that meant putting his pride on the line. He couldn’t do it straight away, he thought, because then it would seem like he was doing it because he felt bad.
You had a free period now, where you were working on a history project with Ross, who sat next to you. All you could think about was Eddie’s impression, did you sound like that? You didn’t realise you were daydreaming until Ross clears his throat, “you okay?”. He was always so kind to you. which made it easy to talk to him, and right now you needed someone who would listen and not judge. Especially if he cares enough to ask if you’re okay. “Is wanting to go to the dance, stupid?”. He wasn’t sure if you were making a joke or not, but from the look on your face, you were serious. “It can’t be that stupid if everyone goes. I think it’s nice” you sigh in relief, you aren’t weird “exactly!” You realise you’re too loud, looking around and apologising. “it’s just I’ve never been to one before and I thought it would be nice”.
Ross put his hand on yours trying to calm you “it will be” he smiles. He blushes as your hands touch, he’s had the hugest crush on you since you started school a couple of months ago. He moves his hand realising he’s being too forward, especially since he assumed you have a thing with Eddie. “For some people, it will be. I don’t think it’s gonna happen for me anytime soon.” You start doodling in your notebook, you don’t want to cry again over this so you try and distract yourself. “What?”
You keep your eyes on the book in front of you, while speaking “well I don’t exactly wanna go alone and I know like 7 people and since none, of those, are gonna ask. I think I’m gonna have to give it a pass”. Ross thought you and Eddie would have gone together, otherwise, he would have at least tried to ask you. Surely Munson wasn’t stupid enough not to ask you, he thought, but he had to Clarify, “not even Munson?”.
You look up from your notebook laughing as if it was the funniest thing you’d heard all day. It might have been “not even Munson are you kidding? could you imagine him going to a dance? You should have heard him when I mentioned it to everyone. I swear sometimes that boy can be so mean”. You shook your head at the thought of lunch, and focus your eyes back on the paper in front of you. “so you’re not going with him”. You didn’t need to keep being reminded you weren’t going to the dance, you understood he was just showing interest and that he cared. But you were sick of this and especially sick of talking about Eddie. “I am absolutely not going with Edward Munson”. Ross smiles goofily at you, not that you can see as you are too distracted trying to get the shading right on the eye you were drawing. “Good”. He says You look at him thinking you heard him say something. “I’m sorry about the dance”. You give him a light smile, he was a nice guy, even if he didn’t know when to stop with questions. “it’s fine, shall we get on with this?”. He picks his pen up off the table “sure”.
You went to hellfire that night but hardly said a word, the boys tried to apologise, it didn’t feel that sincere but at least they knew to apologise. “We’re sorry,” they say mumbling, “we didn’t know how much it meant”. It was nice that they said sorry but it didn’t make you any less upset especially when Eddie refuses to apologise. What you didn’t know was he was overthinking to the max, how was he supposed to say sorry? Would you believe him? If he started being nice would you realise he fancied you, which meant you could reject him? So with all these thoughts going around his head, he kept quiet. Figuring asking you in a few days would show he was sorry.
Two days later, You were starting to put the whole dance thing behind you, well you were trying but it was hard when that was all anyone in school was talking about. Even the boys had started to talk about it to you, which felt like a slap in the face if none of them were going to take you. You had your Walkman on listening to a mixtape Eddie had made you full of his favourite bands Metallica, Dio, Black Sabbath, a few others and your favourite song “come on Eileen”. He told you he did this so you would listen to the tape, at the time you wondered if Eddie liked you as you liked him, but over time you learnt from how he teased you, he saw you strictly platonically, you were just one of the guys. So whatever feeling you thought you had got ignored.
Walking up to your locker you notice a flower in the vent, surely this was put in the wrong locker. You get closer and pull it out to inspect it, looking at the flower confused. You were sure you had never told anyone what your favourite flower was, maybe it was just a coincidence. It was probably a cliché flower that all girls like. That’s all you thought were after all. A tap on your shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts. You turn around and see Ross with a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers with a little white teddy nestled in the middle. Other people are watching in the corridor including Eddie and Gareth who are talking at his locker. Upon the sight, Eddie clenches his fist the knuckles going white from the pressure. You smile brightly at Ross, he was a good guy, he must be trying to cheer you up after the other day you thought.
“oh my God, those are beautiful. They are actually my favourite” you say with glee. Ross looks at you with admiration “I know that’s why I got them” he says while handing them over to you. You can’t help the rosy hue that comes on your cheeks. “ you shouldn’t have but also thank you”. You say while hugging him, careful not to crumple the flowers “what are they for though?”. The boy rubs his neck awkwardly, hoping you couldn’t tell how nervous he was “well I guess partly an apology for not asking sooner and for assuming you already had a date” you couldn’t understand what was happening. nothing like this had ever happened to you.
“Do you wanna go to the winter formal with me?”. You froze, could this be happening? Were all those tears worth it, now you were getting to go the dance. Someone wanted to go to the dance with you, they didn’t have to be forced. So in your head with your thoughts, you didn’t even realise you had left the boy standing there awkwardly waiting for an answer. “It doesn’t have to be a date if you don’-“ you cut him off, realising you took too long to reply. “well I hope it’s a date, otherwise you got me all excited for nothing”. You can’t stop smiling at the man in front of you, was he always this handsome and you hadn’t noticed? His eyes widened, he couldn’t believe his luck the girl he liked wanted to go out with him, “So that’s a yes”. You nod your head “that’s a yes”. He can’t help himself, so he hugs you tight, wanting to kiss you with happiness but knowing that was too forward. “Thank you” he whispers into your ear making you giggle.
Eddie had been getting angrier the more he watched the scene in front of him. How dare he touch you, or make you laugh, or buy you flowers. He knew he was torturing himself watching, but he couldn’t look away. Steam might as well have been coming out of Eddie’s ears with how mad he was. However his friend at the side of him had a completely different complexion on his face, he was merry, and he loved seeing his friends happy. “well looks like she didn’t need our help after all”. He joked to Eddie, not yet seeing how annoying he was, as he too couldn’t keep his eyes off the scene. Silence, he expected Eddie to make a signature witty remark, or laugh or something, anything but there was nothing. He looked over to his friend who looked as if he was going to beat someone up. He tried to fill the silence. “At least now your Saturday night is all free. Dnd session?”.
Eddie still couldn’t take his eyes off the sight, now glaring at not just at Ross but you too. Completely ignoring anything his younger friend was saying. Gareth couldn’t understand why he would be so annoyed about this, now he had his evening free. He never wanted to go to the formal. The only reason he would be this annoyed if he fancied… oh it now all made sense to the boy, the constant teasing, wanting to be the one to take her, always wanting her around. Never shut up talking about her. The school bell rings signalling the start of class, so you leave a parting gift of a kiss on Ross’s cheek. This was the thing that set Eddie over the edge, he stormed off in a huff, almost forgetting Gareth was even there.
Since that day you and Eddie had hardly spoken in fact, Eddie had hardly spoken at all. Which was very strange of him. You stop mentioning the dance as you knew it was a sore spot for the group plus now you had a date to talk to about all the details. Who didn’t seem to mind how long you talked about dress or plans for the night, he just liked hearing you talk. Despite how happy you should be, Something was keeping you awake at night, maybe it was nerves, who knew but you felt like something was missing.
You are Walking hand in hand with Ross through the gym doors, in your pink simplistic but beautiful dress with your date with a black suit and a pink tie. For once you felt like you belonged in this school, you weren’t the awkward girl who couldn’t get dates. You were a beautiful teenage girl going to a school dance with a handsome boy. Cliche or not, you were happy.
You danced to all the cheesy music on the dance floor with Ross and his friends until your feet ached. It was fine when it was a slow song because you could hold on to Ross for support but now it was faster music you knew you need a rest. “I need to sit down”, Ross nods leading you to a table near the dance floor, he went to sit down with you. You shook your head and held onto his arm to stop him, “dance, have fun. I’ll be fine. I’ll be back in 10” you smile. He didn’t want to leave you but how could he say no when looking into your beautiful eyes.
You looked around the room, everyone looked so nice. They had transformed the gym surprisingly well, you would never be able to tell there were kids doing laps around here only 48 hours prior. There wasn’t any drama tonight, it’s almost like this one night everyone just wanted to celebrate and didn’t care about social standards, which was nice. You didn’t realise how many standards have been changed until you spotted the last person you’d expect to be here with a cheerleader. She wasn’t one of the most popular cheerleaders but she was still part of the group, he said he despised. Who’s the cliché now you thought bitterly. You shook your head, you had no right to be mean just because he didn’t want to go with you. You supposed he could go with someone else even if that hurt to admit.
The cheerleader huffed at him and walked away, that didn’t take long. You didn’t know what he said but she was pissed. He was your friend, so hurt or not you had to go and check on him. You walk over to him. He looks up to see you walking towards him, he thinks he must have died and gone to heaven because the only way to describe you was angelic. He was such a fool for not asking you, he knew that now more than ever. He really liked you, and he wouldn’t deny that to himself anymore. Not when you were that perfect and not even just look-wise. You sat down in the plastic seat next to him, be cool he told himself.
He looked handsome in his black shirt and black jeans with his hair in a low bun. It was nice seeing him outside of his usual attire, you wanted to tell him how nice he looked, but this look wasn’t for you it was for her. “So Chris talked you out of the blue eyeshadow?” You joke to Eddie. He was beyond confused, it didn’t help that he couldn’t think straight when you look that beautiful. You soon realised he didn’t have a clue what you were talking about, A situation which has been tormenting your thoughts for weeks and he couldn’t even remember it. “Your flattering impression of me” you joked like it didn’t still kind of sting.
Eddie sunk into his seat at the thought of that day, he should have just asked you as soon as you mentioned it instead of teasing you. No, he should have asked you as soon as the winter formal was announced. Why did he have to have the Munson curse of stubbornness? He looks at you sincerely, a twinkle of sadness in his eyes “I’m sorry”. You are shocked, so you bring the back of your hand to Eddie’s head, the action causing Eddie’s heart to beat. It felt so loud he wondered if you could hear it. “Are you okay? You’re acting strange, first the dance and now you’re apologising. You must be sick”.
He laughs slightly moving your hand from his face hoping it will help his heart to stop, but it didn’t. “Sorry is in my vocabulary, it’s just I don’t always say it when I should. Also I knew I would end up here one way or another”. You gave him the strangest look, maybe this wasn’t Eddie in front of you, he certainly wasn’t acting like the man from a few weeks ago who thought a dance was the most stupid thing he had ever heard of. “What?”. He shrugs his shoulder like what he was about to say was the most casual thing ever “ just not who I thought I’d be going with”. Surely he wasn’t talking about you, no he couldn’t be. He probably meant someone else. You thought your crush on him had stopped, but the world was really testing you tonight.
You couldn’t possibly look at him right now, so you scan the room for his date. “yeah, maybe you should have at least taken someone you like, even as a friend”. He nods, he was gonna shoot his shot, he had already fucked up so he surely couldn’t anymore. “Well, I was planning on taking you so…”. You choke on air, he wasn’t making any sense, had he gotten high before this, was that why he was acting like this? “you wouldn’t stop telling me how stupid it was, that I was a cliché”.
He played with the rings on his fingers, both of you avoiding eye contact with each other. “Yeah, but looking at your face, when you left. I kind of thought I had to”. He wanted to slap himself, why was he so awkward, maybe it was better this way never truly confessing how he felt stopped him from getting hurt. “Well turns out you didn’t have to”. You say signalling to your date. You’re happy, who was he to get in the way he thought. But his mouth was quicker than his head and he spoke “true. But if he didn’t ask, I would have taken you”.
Whatever this game was, your heart couldn’t deal with it, you needed the Eddie who teased you back, he was easier to read than this one who wouldn’t even look at you. Maybe if you start it, he would come back with one of his quick remarks. “I wouldn’t have wanted to go with you anyways, you would have been telling me how lame and stupid it was all night. And you’d complain about having to wear a shirt” you joked, lightly hitting his arm hoping he would look at you.
No, you had the completely wrong idea about him, being with you wasn’t a chore, he would have been lucky. He needed you to know that. “I wouldn’t have. I would do anything to make you happy, so if that would have meant spending a night dancing to terrible music and having to wear a shirt. I would have and would have been happy.” He finally glances up and truly looks at you. “I’ll always do anything for you, I hope you know that”. You had never seen the look on his face before or maybe you had never noticed. “You look beautiful by the way, I’m sorry that should have been the first thing I said”.
Now you were the one with heart problems but you had the added problem of butterflies. You were gonna be sick, this couldn’t be real. You had a date you weren’t allowed to feel this way about someone else. Someone who is your friend, someone who also has a date. You needed to get out of there before your heart took control of your actions instead of your head. “I should probably get back to Ross”.
He felt his heart shatter he always knew you’d have to leave, but for you to go back to someone who should have been him, hurt. “Yeah, of course, have a good night. I’m probably gonna head home early”. You shook your head even if that might have been easier for your heart. He had already come with a pretty girl, who you were sure was nice if he decided to bring her. So even if you couldn’t have him, you didn’t mind as long as he was happy. “Give her a chance, you never know you could enjoy yourself if you keep your mouth shut for two seconds” you joke and walk away to find your date.
If that’s what you wanted he would listen, even if all he wanted was to dance with you. So he went in search of his date, Alice. He found her sitting glumly on a bench sipping punch, he sat down next to her. She deserved better than this, cheerleader or not. “I’m sorry, we should be out there dancing and I’m here pinning over someone who doesn’t even like me. I’m truly sorry, you deserve better than Edward Munson”. She shrugs her shoulders “I knew you didn’t like me, it’s my fault”. He couldn’t hurt someone else, she did not deserve this. “No I’m the stupid one here, you’re beautiful, and any guy would be lucky to have you. I’m just unfortunately stupidly in love with someone else”. Alice held his hand to comfort him, he was trying to be honest and she appreciates it. Not many guys she knew, did that. “Have you told her?”. He laughs a little at the thought. “No, I missed my chance”. He signals to you on the dance floor with Ross, swaying to a slow song.
You felt like you could cry but that wasn’t fair on Ross. You should be happy, he was so lovely, he was good for you. Ross couldn’t help but notice the eyes of Eddie that were locked on you from across the room. He look at you smiling, he wasn’t the guy you should be with he knew that now. Especially when he could see the hurt that lay beneath the fake smile you wore. “Was Eddie okay?”. Of course, he saw that “yeah he’s fine” how were you supposed to describe what happened? “I like you y/n I do, but I’m not stupid. You like him”. You want to deny this, so you try to stutter out a response but you can’t form words. “It’s okay, I understand, you can’t control your heart. You both like each other, so just because he’s stubborn doesn’t mean you should be”. You kissed him on the cheek, god he was nice. “Thank you, you don’t hate me right?”. He smiles “I could never hate you, plus it would make history pretty awkward”. He jokes.
Ross looks over to the bench where the cheerleader and freak were sitting. “Now there’s a girl over there who looks like she needs a dance, hopefully, you can help the other one to finally smile”. He left to walk towards the pair. Eddie saw Ross walking over to them, was he mad? Had you told him what he had said? Did he go too far saying you were beautiful? He didn’t want to fight but he was ready to defend himself if a punch was thrown. Ross reached out his hand, and Eddie flinches waiting for impact. But nothing, because Ross’s hand wasn’t meant for him, it was meant for his date.
He held his hand out expectantly “do you wanna dance? I kind of got ditched by my date.” Alice nods and got up to dance with him. Before she left to turns to Eddie “tell her” and with that, she left. Were you okay? Did you ditch Ross, because of Eddie? Did Eddie upset you again? He didn’t want to ruin your night. You sat on the bench next to him. There was a beat of silence what would you say to each other? You were the first to break the ice. “You look beautiful too by the way” you smile at him. “Thanks” heat rises to his cheeks. “I’m sorry if I ruined your night”.
You shook your head, “it’s not over yet, so it can’t be ruined, well I guess it depends on how you answer next. Will you go to the winter-“ he put his hand on your mouth. “No I was supposed to ask that. Will you go to the dance with me?”. You licked his hand to get him to move it which worked “does it matter who asked who first?”. He nodded “yeah because I really wanted to ask the girl I like to a dance”. You blush. “Well I really wanted to ask the boy I like to a dance”. Without thinking he grabs your face and kisses you. Taken by surprise it takes you a second to kiss back. When you finally both stop for the air you are both smiling like Cheshire cats. “I wish I would have told you before, then I could have done that a lot sooner”. You nod. “So do I?”.
Come On Eileen by Dexys Midnight Runners comeson over the speakers, “are you gonna ask me to dance or am I gonna have to do that too” you joke. He playfully hits your shoulder standing up, holding out his hand to you. “ Would you like to join me to dance to my favourite song Mylady”. You reach out to hold onto his hand. “This is my favourite song”. He shakes his head “ anything that makes me think of you is my favourite”.
WARNINGS: fem!reader, friends to lovers, so much mutual pining, more angst than fluff, MAJOR hurt/comfort, graphic character death—through nightmares (no one actually dies)
His breathing is so quiet it makes you think he’s not even breathing at all. The only tell that he’s still here is the slow rise and fall of his chest—something you only noticed once you tried to find it.
Despite being in the safety of Steve’s bed—and him by your side—your fear still keeps you up in the middle of the night. Every time you toss and turn, you’re afraid it’ll wake him up, but you think he’s definitely out like a rock. It would probably take an explosion to wake him up right now.
The two of you had a long day. So did the kids, but being the designated babysitters, you were the ones who had the right to collapse as soon as you got in the house.
After… everything, it’s been a silent agreement between you and Steve that you’d stay with him at his house for the time being. The bed sharing had not been planned, but Steve had insisted. He claimed having someone near helped him sleep better, but you knew he was doing it for you.
summary: the cold winter air outside is unforgiving so you and steve stay inside to keep warm. being in each other’s arms, enjoying the season around the fire does the job. however, a little bit of teasing later and you let steve in on another way his chest can provide some warmth for you both.
warnings: smut, 18+ only, fluff, teasing & playful banter, chest riding (yeah, you read it right. reader rides steve’s chest), grinding, dirty talk, male masturbation/handjob, spit, mild cum play
authors note: welcome to the first instalment of festive fridays this year! kicking things off we have the dirtiest steve smut i have ever wrote. i wanna thank @dilfharrington for being the one to inspire this idea and granting me permission to write it. this wouldn’t be here without you so thank you, love. another special thank you to the beautiful and wonderful @moonmistt for helping me with the moodboard and creating the final product. i hope you all enjoy this and it can get you into the holiday spirit!
The night was still, a calm peacefulness lingered outside. The air was cold and crisp, enough to make your breath stop when you stepped into it. The playful wind blew around the flurries of snow that were falling from the dark sky, making them dance around until they landed.
It was even more peaceful inside Steve’s house. The Christmas lights illuminated the outside, lighting up the bundles of snow on the ground. Inside the house was warm and smelt delicious. The interior was decorated with various colours of garland and hand cut snowflakes thanks to you and Steve.
His parents left him to watch the house, leaving you two alone for the week of Christmas. You suggested to decorate a bit, make it a special Christmas for both of you.
That’s how you ended up here, wrapped up in a large white blanket, sitting on Steve’s lap in front of the fireplace. The Christmas tree was helping the fire to illuminate the otherwise dark room.
It was freezing outside, therefore the room around you was very warm. A mix of hot hair and the warmth that Steve’s body was providing you.
The only sounds in the room were the small whispers of you and Steve, the giggles in between stolen kisses. You were both naked, letting your body heat rub onto one another. A mess of tangled warm limbs, basking in the glory that was an empty house.
“Stop that.” You giggled, pressing your lips against Steve’s neck and leaving a kiss there. His hands were tickling at your sides, scratching his nails on your skin lightly.
“Don’t gotta pretend like you don’t like it.” He teases, holding your waist still. He cranes his neck to look at you, pressing his lips to yours softly.
Steve’s kisses are always soft and sweet. His pink lips slotting against your own perfectly, two puzzle pieces sliding together finally. He takes his time with you, kissing you slowly and letting you enjoy every move of his lips. He tastes extra sweet today, the flavour of sugary cookies lingering on his tongue.
You loved moments like these. They were raw and beautiful and shared with the person you loved most. There were no expectations, only wanting to feel each other pressed against you.
“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He whispers once he breaks away from your lips, dragging his wet lips down the column of your neck.
You giggle again, running your fingers through the chocolate locks on top of his head.
“You might have mentioned it.” You laugh, pulling on his hair so he’ll look at you. “Wouldn’t hurt to tell me again..”
He laughs this time, it’s perfect and makes you smile brightly. Reaching up to hold your face he rubs your cheeks with his thumbs, smoothing the skin down.
“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, baby.” He says it like it’s an oath, swearing his life upon it. “Can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”
You get warmer under his touch, stomach blooming with more warmth than what was already there. A tinge of shyness takes you over, feeling incredibly close to him, like he’s studying you under a microscope.
“Better start believing it, Stevie.” You smile widely at him, tracing your fingertips over the small beauty marks that adorn his face, admiring each one. “Promise I’m not some dream you conjured up.”
He runs his soft palms up around your back, rubbing long lines into your skin. His lips ghost over your collarbones, leaving a trail of kisses on them.
“Even if it was a dream, it would be a really good one.” His voice is soft and silky, truthful until he mutters, “Or the bad part hasn’t started yet, who knows?”
He’s laughing as you push him away from you with a gasp. You gently shove him, straddling his waist as he dramatically lays on the blanket covered ground. You move up to sit on his stomach, pushing his shoulders down as a feeble attempt to keep him on the ground.
“Take it back!” You can’t help but laugh, making him laugh harder.
“How do I know for sure!?” He looks at you with wide eyes, rubbing your thighs over and over. You slump your shoulders and put on a fake pout, jutting your bottom lip out.
“You’re so mean!” You playfully push his chest, not being able to hold back a smile anymore.
“I’m kidding, sweet girl.” He admits, squeezing both your thighs. “Know I love you too much to think that.”
You become painfully aware of how warm you feel as you stare down at him. His soft eyes staring back at you like you were the centre of his universe. You feel your cunt clench around nothing, a pit of heat burning in your stomach.
Steve could barely focus on anything but how much his cock ached. Being so close to you, so intimate for so long it was no secret he was in need of relief. He watched your face change, the look of playfulness turning into one of need.
Biting your cheek you looked at him nervously, eyes scanning down to the hair that covered his chest. Your heart started beating quicker, a lightbulb in your head illuminating.
“Stevie?” You said, voice barely above a whisper, trying to not let your nerves consume you.
“Yeah, baby?” He whispered as soft as he possibly could, moving his hand to rub your arm encouragingly. It was like he could read your mind sometimes, knowing there was something on your mind just by how your eyebrows knit together.
You gently rubbed your free hand over his chest hair, raking your fingers through it gently. You loved his chest ever since the first time you saw it. His pale skin covered in the mess of hair, adoring the way it stuck to him. You couldn’t put your finger on why you loved it so much, it was just so uniquely Steve that you couldn’t help but love it.
Moving your body up a bit further you urged him to move his hands, placing them on your waist for him. His eyebrow ticked up in confusion, watching you intently as he attempted to figure out what you were up to.
You placed your knees on either side of his ribcage, your ass settled on him, heat pressing against his chest.
“Is this okay?” You asked hesitantly, chest heaving slightly.
“Definitely okay.” He said confidently, “Wanna tell me what you’re up to, beautiful?” His voice never contained judgement when he spoke to you, reminding you that he was only curious.
Your lip hid behind your teeth, sharp edges pressing into the soft flesh hard enough to nearly make it bleed. You nod your head, pressing your hands onto the soft skin of his shoulders, squeezing it harshly as you try to get comfortable.
“Just wanted to try something.” You tell him honestly.
You press your sex into him firmly, finally feeling how wet you really were. Steve must have felt it too, his hands grasping your waist a bit harder. You slowly pushed yourself against his chest, feeling your cunt press along him firmly. Moving your hips back you did it again, rubbing yourself back and forth on his chest.
A hum of approval left your lips, surprised that it felt as good as it did. Your clit dragged along his rough chest hair in a way that was delightful. The bundle of nerves feeling immense relief, your hole clenching at the feeling.
After a few more ruts of your hips against him, Steve caught on to what you were doing.
This wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary for you both. You had rode his thigh before, sat on his face while he ate you out, but yet the sight of this still had him reeling.
The thought of you using him for your own pleasure always turned him on. He liked making you feel good and to watch you take it from him made his head spin.
But this was different, you humping his chest, covering him in your mess of slick. This was dirty, it was messy and like nothing either of you had ever experienced.
“That feel good, baby?” He asked you, knowing the answer already but wanting to hear you say it.
“Mhm.” You nod in approval, pressing down harder on his chest. “Feels really good, Stevie.”
Your eyebrows pressed together in concentration, trying to find a steady space to go at. The sounds of your slick against his skin filled the space between you both. The soft wet noises making you both moan in tandem.
After a few moments you found a rhythm, moving your hips over and over to hit your clit right where you needed.
Steve was a mess under you, getting a front row seat to watch your cunt pressing into him. His eyes moved back and forth from your face to your pussy, not knowing where he wanted to focus his attention. His cheeks were a light shade of pink, unable to believe this was happening.
“Shit..” He mumbled, looking at you. “My sweet girl..so dirty.” His voice had a teasing tone sewed into it, making you moan in return.
He reached to rub his thumb over your nipple before pinching it gently, rolling the sensitive nub between two fingers. Your chest pushed into his touch involuntarily, chasing the pleasure he was giving you.
“How long have you been keepin’ this from me?” He rasps, a knowing look on his face. His gaze always weighs heavy on you, it's loving but enough to make your stomach drop.
“A long time, Steve.” You admit, watching his eyes widen and scrunch slightly. “Didn’t..didn't know how to tell you.”
He licks his lips, fingers still teasing your nipples. His semi-soft cock was rock hard now, blood pulsing through it at an alarming rate. Seeing you like this made him want to consume you, to never let you go. He knew you were his yet there was still an urge to remind you over and over again. Especially when you looked this perfect.
“Should’ve said something sooner, baby. “ He tells you, “Know I’ll give you anything you want.”
His words drive you further into your desire, a loud whine leaving you. It's pathetic and needy, making Steve groan in return.
“Louder, come on.” He encourages, pulling your chin down to make you look at him. “Want you to cum all over my chest, get me nice and wet.”
You’re nothing but a mess of moans, hips working faster to bring you to your release. Steve brought his hand to your mouth, pulling on your bottom lip.
“Spit on my hand, baby.” He tells you. Obediently you gather some spit in your mouth, letting it fall from your lips onto his open hand messily.
“Good girl.” He lets out a silent curse, wiping the remainder of it from your lips before his hand disappears. “Always listen so well, don’t you?”
He takes his wet hand and brings it to his sore cock, rubbing it all over the base of it. A hiss leaves his lips as he does, his tip angry at the sudden abrupt contact. He jerks it slowly a few times, eyes still peeled to your figure.
The languid noises leaving him made your stomach grow tighter. He made such pretty noises but it was no surprise given how handsome he was.
When you look down, embarrassment creeps up on you. His chest hair is soaked, the thick hair now darker in colour and sticking to his chest. The skin of his chest is shining, a beautiful glossiness all over his pale flesh. It resembles his chest when he sweats, except the glistening on his skin belongs to you.
You lean down closer to him, trying to earn more contact on your sore clit. The new angle hitting the spot you need over and over again. The sensation is similar to when you ride his thigh, only a bit better with how firm his chest is.
There’s an ache in your thighs, the muscles twitching at how much you’d been using them. You really couldn’t care however, working them harder as you continue to press your cunt into him.
“God, you’re perfect.” Steve groans, hand still stroking his thick cock. “This is s’hot, you’re so good for me.”
He pumps his cock a bit quicker, selfishly wishing it was your hand wrapped around him. He couldn’t care too much, not when you looked like this, not when you were grinding on his chest and using him how you needed.
“Stevie.” You whined, voice higher in pitch. “It’s all over you.. so messy.” Your voice is almost apologetic and he isn’t having any of it.
“You’re my messy girl, huh?” He taunts you, “I love it, love being covered in you.”
Your moans are laced with bliss and pleasure, an array of vast emotions pumping through your bloodstream. This sex was emotionally intricate, love sleeping out of both of you along with a level of intimacy that only two lovers could harness. Physically it was dirty, it was messy and something that neither of you had experienced ever before. The two varying parts of it worked together in a way that made your body bloom with happiness.
Your stomach was tight now, breath fluttering in your chest as you tried to focus on reaching your high. Your fingertips dug into his shoulders hard enough to leave red marks behind.
Your eyebrows knit together in concentration, the familiar look on your face. Your moans grew less and less, your breathing getting heavier.
Steve was good at this part now, knowing every ingredient that was needed to let you experience nothing but pleasure. Small praises left his mouth, words of encouragement to help you get there.
“That’s it, there you go, baby.” He praised, loving the way your eyes jammed shut and your head lulled back. “Let yourself have it, go on.”
“Steve!” You cried out, the slow burning coming to a rapid peak.
It was reminiscent of a plane taking off, the sudden drop of feeling in your abdomen. Your muscles contracted as the pleasure pulsated down through your core, your clit on fire at the sensation. Your top half slouched as you rested your hands flat on his shoulders.
Through your heavy breathing you could hear Steve jerking himself off, tugging at his cock like his life depended on it. You opened your eyes and smiled down at him, a blissed out look on your features.
He smiled back at you for a moment before another large moan left him, opting you to turn your head and look.
“Let me..” You whispered to him, sitting down flat on his stomach so you could reach his throbbing member.
You took it in your much smaller hand, tugging on the pink flesh at the same pace he was going.
“Right there..just like that, sweet girl.” He growled, covering his eyes with his forearms.
His cock was big in comparison to your much smaller hand. Your one hand not doing nearly as much as it would if you used both. You pumped his cock firmly, tracing the thick vein that went through it over and over.
“Come on, Stevie.” You said softly, encouraging him to cum. “Want you to cum all over my hand, please?”
He lefts out a long, whiny moan after that. His cock twitches in your hand as white ropes of cum coat his stomach and your hand. A satisfied grin is on your face and you help him ride the high, looking back at him to see he’s doing the same.
You both laugh gently when you look at each other, the aftershocks of what happened hitting you both.
You bring your hand to your mouth, licking the cum off your fingers and humming in content as you do.
“Taste good, pretty girl?” He teases, enjoying the way you suck on your fingers. You nod in response, offering him one of your fingers which he takes gladly. It makes your stomach turn in the best way, watching him suck his own seed off your finger.
He holds eye contact while he does it, gently sucking on your finger to get as much of his cum off as he can.
“You’re the dirty one now, Stevie.” You say matter of factly, making him look down at his wet chest.
“Think someone may have rubbed off on me.” He laughs, making you cover your face in embarrassment.
we gotta talk about steves fingers i need them in me yesterday
i want his face in my neck, laughing at me and saying absolute nonsense and fingering me til i cant even think!!!
“does that feel good or somethin’, baby?” his warm breath tickling your neck.
your eyes are crossed, pupils blown while you’re desperately gripping the counter behind you. “y… yeah… yes, steve.”
“yeah? so good you can’t even talk?”
“steve….”
he chuckles into your skin again, curls his fingers up right where you like it. “got anything else to say, pretty thing?”
you shake your head slowly.
“how ‘bout a ‘thank you’, huh? for making you feel so good you get stupid? only thing y’gotta think about is me and my fat cock. i’ll take care of the rest.”
“o… okay, steve.”
“okay? yeah? want me to keep you pliant and dumb?”
a slow nod. you cry out when his thumb presses circles into your clit. he brings his lips up to your ear, licking at the shell of it.
“cum on my fingers n i’ll give you what you want. what d’ya want, baby?”
a hand reaches to softly grab at his sweater sleeve. you’re overstimulated and drunk on him. “i… c… cock. your cock.”
he moans hotly into your ear. “i’ll give it to you, peach. just soak my fingers first.”
Summary: Going to a party at your bully's house had to be your worst nightmare come true. But you know what they say; don't get over someone, get under them.
Warnings: SMUT! slow burn filth. I need a hot shower level. breeding kink if you squint. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!) fem!reader :)
NOTE: some characters have been aged up, like chrissy, so that everyone is in senior year at the same time :)
Word Count: 5.9K
You loved a party. Couldn't get enough of the heat of a group of people, the roar of laughter overlapping with the excited chatter of friends reuniting. The inevitable crash of dropped glass making the whole crowd hush before resuming their nestled talk. You were, in every sense of the word, a party girl. But that wasn't always the case.
Before this year - your senior year at Hawkins High- you'd been riding the coat tails of your childhood best friend, Nancy Wheeler, all throughout your school life. You were the sad little puppy that followed her around, but Nance never minded. She was always happy to have you by her side, or just behind her. Everywhere she went, you were there a few seconds later. That was until she started hanging out with, and later dating your sworn enemy.
Steve Harrington.
The guy had tormented you since middle school, along with his minions Tommy and Carol. The two of you used to make fun of people like them, stuck up and out of touch, and then she became one of them. Just like that. You could tell she felt guilty, by the way she would send you a furrowed glance at lunch as if to say 'I'm sorry, I have to!', like she had no control over who she surrounded herself with. As if she had no choice but to curl up beside the guy that broke your elbow in seventh grade.
Like she couldn't help but fall into the arms of the guy that had made your life a living hell for more than six years.
You still occasionally spoke to Nancy. After all, you lived across from one another, and thus had to see each other at some points. She would sometimes invite you to study, but you had started to make excuses after you had seen Harrington climb the garage roof and into her window, not liking the thought of his impulsive tendency for a romantic rendezvous interrupting a study session whilst you were there. You didn't want to put Nacy through the grief.
Your 'Lost Lamb' persona left you the moment you started hanging out with someone you never thought you'd consider a friend in your wildest dreams, or nightmares, Chrissy Cunningham. Expecting her to be a total Queen Bee, she was nothing of the sort. She was warm and kind and sisterly, all the things you missed from your friendship with Nancy. She sat with you at lunch, went to the movies with you, and eventually secured you a seat at the table with the rest of the cheerleaders, their boyfriends and the rest of their gang. They welcomed you with unexpected sincerity, and that was that.
You started going to house parties on Saturdays, diners on Wednesday nights with the girls, study sessions with some of the basketball team that couldn't quite pass a class or two. People waved at you in the halls, remembering your name for once. You and Chrissy would have sleep overs, and you felt the hole in your heart that Nancy left slowly start to heal. More or less.
But then you got that stupid invite.
"Gotcha!" Chrissy closed your locker door, scaring you senseless.
"Jesus, Chris!" you stacked your books in your arms. She was smiling wide, as always, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What?" you said, a raised brow and half a smirk making its way across your lips.
"Before you say anything, just let me talk," she made tiny praying hands to her chest, puppy dog eyes gleaming. "Promise?"
"Okay," you sighed.
"There's a party this weekend, and we're all going, and we all really want you to come." You looked at her with raised brows, as if to say 'go on?'. "It's Steve Harrington's party."
You'd managed to avoid almost every one of Harrington's parties with some believable, and some not so believable, excuses in the past year since your surge in popularity. "I don't know, Chris, I'm so busy with college applications this weekend-"
"Who needs them!" she cried, "We all know you're gonna get into Yale or Hardvard or Brown or whichever super crazy smart college you want to go to." She grabbed your hand, swaying it back and forth, like a child begging their mother for a candy bar at the grocery store. "Pretty please?" she did the puppy eyes again, knowing it would sway you to agree.
"Fine."
"Yay! I'll come to your house at nine tomorrow to get you!"
And that's how you found yourself in your old bullies house, red solo cup in hand, full of whatever lethal punch one of the football players had concocted. Already tipsy, lingering by the kitchen so that the constant stream of drinks wouldn't slow. Bodies moved ungracefully around you, shimmying and shoving through to the living room or to the ruckus of the back yard where people were throwing each other into Steve Harrington's large pool. You sipped on your drink thoughtfully, feeling the confidence built over the last year slip away from you as you returned to your old wallflower state.
"Why are you hiding in here, silly?" Chrissy came to your side, the shimmery pink eyeshadow on her lids making her green eyes luminous in the low light of the kitchen. "The gang's all next door, come on!" She grabbed your hand with surprising strength, dragging you into the large living room. Deep sofas lined the walls, each with a basketball player and their girlfriends curled up on one. On the one furthest from you, was Nancy and Steve. Next to them, Tommy and Carol. It made your stomach turn to see her with him. You avoided her persistent gaze. But Harrington's gaze, raking you in and eyes darting up and down, was harder to lose. He stared at you adamantly.
When the buzz of chatter died down, a few of the basketball players and their girlfriends left to find more entertaining activities, it was just a handful of people left in the living room. Including you, Nance and Steve. Tommy had the glint of wicked amusement in his eyes, and it made you uncomfortable. "I know what we should do," he said, eyes falling to you. "Let's play a little game." Carol perked up beside him, as if their minds were connected in some twisted way. "Yeah, let's do something fun."
"Games, come on guys," Jason, Chrissy's boyfriend, spoke up. "We're not in middle school anymore." Carol got her own wicked smile.
"Oh, certainly not." her eyes fell on you , analysing how your style had changed. You were wearing dark make up, smoking out your eyes and giving them an alluring pull. You showed off skin, knew how to present yourself. Her eyes narrowed, her smile a venomous sneer. "No, if this were middle school, I wouldn't be caught dead at a party with her."
You simply cocked your head to the side, giving carol a tight lipped sarcastic smile. Inside, you felt thirteen again. Instinctively, you grabbed your elbow, as if you could feel the pain of the break there now. Tommy barked out a laugh at Carol's comment. "Yeah, who knew the black sheep would turn into a black swan, huh?"
You felt gross as he raked his eyes over you, unashamed as he stared at the place where the hem of your dress ended.
"Fuck off, Tommy." you retorted, voice calm but heart racing a million miles a minute behind your ribcage. You felt like you were a lamb on a platter for the lions, ready for the slaughter.
"She speaks!" Carol squawked. Next to them on the couch, Nancy squirmed. Never one for confrontation, she excused herself to grab a drink. You caught her eye as she left. She looked guilty. You wanted to follow her, grab her by the shoulders and tell her to wake up. Tell her that her friends, and her boyfriend, were assholes. But she never listened before. She just couldn't admit it to herself.
"Been a while since we've seen you, babe. Where've you been hiding those legs, huh?" Carol smacked her gum as she spoke, obnoxious and loud.
"I found some better people to hang out with." Beside you, Chrissy stuck her arm over your shoulder. Her face was hard. It made her look older, the serious glare that she was sending Carol. Carol sneered at her, and the expression aged her terribly.
Steve caught your eye, shifted hard away from Tommy. He was gripping his beer with a tight knuckled grip. His eyes slithered down your neck, over your chest, and landed similarly to Tommy's. You grabbed the hem of your dress and yanked downward.
"One of the cool kids now, are you? Not following Wheeler around like a dog anymore?" Tommy took a long sip of his beer.
"We drifted apart." you said simply.
"Oh yeah? Since when?" Carol chimed in again and you felt your blood boil beneath your skin. Steve continued his obvious oggling.
"Since she traded her spine for a shiny new basketball player"
Nancy stood by the door, drink in hand. Her eyes were wide, like a deer in headlights. The whole group erupted into astonished laughter, Chrissy struggling to hold back as she clutched her stomach. Steve glared at the floor, as if willing it to say a comeback that would sting you back. Nancy sat down beside him, silent.
"Woah, you gonna take that Wheeler?" Carol guffawed.
She remained silent as a mouse at Steve's side.
"Nance was never one for speaking up anyway. "
You grabbed your cup and flittered out of the living room, the atmosphere suffocating you. You needed another drink, a cigarette, and some alone time. Drink secured, and obscenely strong, you crept up the stairs to the second floor. Once you found a room that didn't stink of puke or had two people sucking face in, an ensuite bathroom, you locked the door and sat in the tub.
Shutting the shower curtain, doc martens resting on the taps, you lit your cigarette. You still couldn't believe you were in Steve Harrington's house - let alone one of his bathtubs - after everything that went down all those years. Yet there you were. Nancy lost to the dark side, you in with the cool kids. Your middle school self wouldn't believe it. You rested your eyes for a moment, breathing in the smoke and taking gentle sips of your drink.
Your thoughts were interrupted by muffled yelling in the next room. You stubbed out your cigarette, trying to get out of the tub as quietly as possible, when you heard your name. It was Steve and Nancy, and they were fighting. About you.
"Why are you bringing this up now?" Steve said, exasperated.
"You guys were awful to her, Steve!"
"Yeah, like you did anything about it, huh Nance?"
You recoiled back into the tub, feeling invasive but caring more about what Nancy had to say for herself than your moral compass. It was a years' worth of pain cementing your form in the tub, ear preened toward the doorway.
"You tormented her!"
"And you watched! If anything, that's worse!"
"How is that worse than what you, YOU, did to her Steve?!
There was a pause. You could imagine Nancy's face; pouted lips, furrowed brow, cheeks blotchy from an ill-fated attempt to hold back her angry tears. Steve laughed humourlessly. It was a cutting sound, and you could hear Nancy take deep breaths.
"What we did, sure, it was stupid. Do I regret it? Of course, we never meant to get her hurt back then."
"You're still awful to her!"
"And there's the kicker," Steve chuckled darkly. "She always stuck up for herself. That's why we did it, we knew she'd give us some fun." There was a long moment where no one spoke. "You never stood up for her once, Nancy."
His words hung in the air like smoke, seeping into your clothes and clogging your throat.
"You never defended her, then or now."
Nancy was flustered, stuttering over her words.
"You never stood up for your best friend? Thats...awful, Nance."
You could hear as Nancy struggled to find a defence, as she used to with you. She would blubber to you, relaying how guilty she felt with enough tears that you eventually ended up comforting her, forgetting that you'd even come to her for help.
"Fuck you, Steve." You could hear as she grabbed her things, storming out of the room with vibrant language. The loud declaration that "it was fucking over" made a laugh - vindictive and partly delighted - rise in your chest.
You smacked a hand over your mouth in realisation. Your movements froze, fear jolting through your bones as you heard Steve pattering about the next room. His movements stopped abruptly as your foot knocked a bottle of shampoo off the edge of the tub.
In a split second - idiotic- decision, you decide to make a run for it. You rip back the curtain, jumping to the floor and striding for the door, the door you had so stupidly locked. A warm hand grabbed your wrist in a vice like grip.
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."
His voice was low, deep. It echoed in your chest. It made your heart thump. It made your blood boil.
"Get your hand off me." you seethed. His grip remained, making the skin of your wrist tingle. His touch was firm yet feather light. Unwilling to let you go, but not trying to hurt you. When his hand remained unmoving, you struggled against his grasp. "Get off, Steve."
He was leaning over you, shoulder blocking the door. He hovered above you, taunting, as he looked you over again. His gaze was relentless, inescapable. Confusing.
"Let go, Steve." You sighed out, defeated and embarrassed as he held you in place. You felt unnervingly calm. Strangely glued to the floor under his honey brown eyes as they bored into your own. You wanted nothing more than to move your feet - maybe stomp on his own so he would release the grip on your hand- and get out of the claustrophobic bathroom. You risked a glance up at the boy.
Christ.
Steve was never unattractive. Never had an awkward phase. He was always tall, athletic and tanned. Your hatred for the boy hadn't blinded you to the painfully obvious. But in the dim green light of the bathroom, shadows accentuating sharp cheekbones and jawline, you saw it. Saw it as the other girls did. Steve Harrington was gorgeous. He was painfully attractive, in every sense of the word. From the symmetrical lines of his cupids bow to the dark lashes framing honey eyes, he was hypnotic. And he had you completely under his spell.
"How much of that did you hear?"
His voice was aggravatingly quiet, gentle. Intoxicating. There was a gap between the two of you, small enough that you could feel the warmth of Steve's breath on your cheek as he spoke. You felt like a child being scolded by a parent, guilt driving you to complete honesty. It was the same tone that would make you confess to a teacher, had the same soft lilt.
"Enough." You replied, and your voice was hoarse. Rough, like you needed water desperately. You did, you felt as though your throat was bone dry. "Enough to hear you chew out Nancy."
Steve's eyes were inexplicably soft as he looked at you, and at the mention of Nancy they hardened almost imperceptibly. "Yeah, well," he sighed, languid and frustrated, "that was gonna happen, no matter if it was about you or not." When you raised as brow - both in shock at his willingness to detail the state of his relationship, and as a sign to continue- he went on. "All we do is fight."
"Hmm."
""What?"
"Karma came and bit you both in the ass."
The look Steve gave you made you feel bad for saying it, but it was overruled by the vindictive joy you felt at hurting his feelings. The way he backed up slightly, as if he'd not expected you to say something, made your heart jolt a bit. He'd been so awful to you for so long that the knowledge of his relationship being far from perfect made a smile creep its way across your lips.
Steve huffed, frustrated again.
"You are incredibly hard to understand." He said, the same sickeningly sweet voice at play. "You're very different...to how you used to be."
"You mean I'm not a loser anymore?" You quirked a brow.
"You were never a loser," he stepped closer to you, hand still on yours. "You were just...," he trailed off. His gaze was unashamed, staring straight down at your lips as he spoke. "Different."
'What a crock of shit,' you thought. This coming from the guy that bullied you all throughout middle school, even through high school. it was the biggest load of bullshit you'd ever heard. But your ears rang with the rush of blood behind your ears as your heart hammered inside your chest. Steve Harrington was a flirt, and a good one. You were experiencing his best lines. And they were working.
"Different?" there was hardly any space between the two of you now, Steve's lips brushing over yours as he shifted. You didn't stop him when his hand brushed your sides.
"Yeah," the hand that had been holding your wrist against the doorknob came up to cup your cheek. Steve's top lip was on yours as he spoke, "different."
The two of you crashed together with teeth and lips, a brawl of desperate hands and angry grudges. Fingers tangled in hair immediately, tugging and scratching. Steve tasted of smoke, beer and something innately Boyish. His hands settled at your waist, grasping the fabric of your dress there. His lips were pillowy and soft, addictive. You suddenly understood why Nancy put up with it; kissing Steve Harrington was like having your own personal drug. The kiss deepened as you shifted heads, turning for better angles and access.
Steve groaned as his tongue slid across yours, and the way he so clearly enjoyed the kiss made you feel powerful. He backed you up against the bathroom counter. "Jump," he whispered, your bottom lip between his teeth as he nipped the skin there. You did as he said, his voice husky and hypnotic, and he lifted you to rest on the sink. Legs parted, Steve rested between your open knees. One hand resting there, one working on shrugging you out of the jacket that clung to your shoulders. He pulled away from you, an amused smirk on his face as you whined, to rip the jacket away. Shoulders and neck exposed, Steve got to work on the skin there.
You were suddenly way more aware of what you were doing.
"You better not leave a mark, Harrington." you panted out, as Steve nipped a particularly sweet spot just below your ear. He chuckled, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine.
"Why?" he asked, smug lilt to his words. "Afraid of people knowing?"
"More ashamed than afraid," you said, choking on your words as Steve nipped at the skin of your throat. "Can't have people thinking just anyone can have me."
Steve pulled back, and god you melted right there. Hair a mess, eyes blown wide, and lips swollen. It was a glorious sight. "And I'm just anyone?" He was smug, overconfident. Irritatingly attractive.
"Yeah," you gripped the belt loops of his jeans, yanking forward. The bewildered look on his face made you grin. "so this stays between us."
"Aye aye, Captain."
And off you went again, lips colliding in heated snarls. There was a primal anger behind it, driving you into his strong arms as he encased you. Was this self sabotage? Maybe so, but it was the hottest thing you'd ever experienced. Steve's nimble fingers caressed their way up your back, finding the straps of your bra with ease. He snapped one against your shoulder, making you yelp and using the sound to slip his tongue back into your mouth. If it didn't make your bones feel like jelly, you would have chastised him for the cheap move. Carnal desire taking over your mind, you let your cold hands scrape up his chest, lifting the hem of his shirt to graze his stomach.
He tensed up at the touch, a stuttered breath fanning your face as he sighed. His two hands landed firm on your knees, creeping up your legs and stopping as he stroked your inner thigh with his forefingers.
"Permission to come aboard?"
You nodded, arousal coursing through you like a stake to the heart.
"Words, please...Captain."
"You find yourself funny, don't you?"
"Very." His fingers were so close yet so far from where you wanted them. "Do you want to?"
"Yes, I do."
"There we go."
He kissed you again, this time slow. It was harder than before, and as he swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, Steve slipped your underwear down your legs. He groaned into the kiss as he felt you, excitement clear by the wet patch on your panties. "God, you're wet."
You should have been embarrassed. You should have pulled your panties off the floor and run out of the house and all the way home without looking back. But you were putty in his hands as Steve slipped a finger inside of you, hooking upwards and finding that special spot almost immediately. A high pitched whine - one that shocked even you- made its way out of your mouth, muffled as you buried your head in Steve's neck as he set a slow pace. "What a pretty sound," he groaned, catching your face in his hand as you threw it back against the mirror. "You gonna keep making 'em like that?"
You nodded, breathless, and then he was out of your sight.
Steve kissed down your chest, shoving your dress over your stomach and kissing the skin as he went down. His fingers intwined with yours as they gripped the marble counter. You sat up to catch his eye, and what a pretty sight it was. Steve Harrington, pupils dilated with lust, with his head between your thighs. He kissed your thighs, and you mewled; so close yet so far.
"Please," you moaned. Embarrassment crept up on you, and you could feel the blood rush to your cheeks. "God, please Steve."
Steve dug his fingers into the skin of your thighs, toying with them. He kissed his way to your knees, enjoying the sight before him as you writhed about. "Please what?" he said, and had you not been desperate for him to bury his head between your legs you would have kicked him. He grinned as you fought the urge to beg. "What do you want?" He left surprisingly tender pecks to your knee.
"I want you."
"Where do you want me?" he was taking his time with you, partly for himself - savouring the moment, rejoicing in the way you fell apart before him- and partly to tease you into insanity.
"Jesus Christ," you groaned as he nipped the supple skin of your thighs.
"Steve is just fine." He laughed, putting you out of your misery as he licked one broad stripe up your centre. It was the stupidest, most reckless thing you could be doing, which made it even hotter as Steve hooked his hands under your hips, holding you on top of the counter as your legs wrapped round his head and your hands wove themselves into his hair. Almost immediately you understood Steve's reputation, and you felt a pang of possessiveness as his lips encased your clit, humming as he went. Your back arched off the tiles, mouth agape in a silent 'O' shape. Harrington knew what he was doing, that much was clear as your first orgasm crept up on you.
You could hardly muster words, the only sound in the jade coloured bathroom being the obscene wet sounds and your whimpers as Steve continued to ruin you on the counter. "I'm gonna - oh shit, Steve." The way you moaned his name - like it was the only one you knew, the only one that mattered- made Steve's jeans feel impossibly tight, palming himself for something, anything to relieve himself. He was just as desperate, just as wanting, as you were - if not more. The thought of what was to come made you clench around Steve's fingers, exploding in a white hot scream on his tongue. You fell back against the mirror, hairs sticking to the sides of your face, cheeks flushed with both heat and bashfulness. Steve crept up your stomach again, stealing a kiss when he made it to your lips.
You could taste yourself as he kissed you, slow and deep. His hands swiped the hair from your face, in a gesture entirely too sweet for a boy that had just ravaged you in his bathroom. It bothered you. That wasn't part of the interaction - there was no sweetness involved. It almost took you out of the moment, but as your hips bucked into Steve's, and he let out a strangled groan, the moment was saved. As his lips found purchase on your collarbones, your hands made work of unbuttoning his shirt - purposefully slow, you enjoyed watching his stomach tense as you grazed it. The sharp intake of breath as you began unbuckling his belt made you feel powerful, made your stomach do flips. "Here?" you asked, kissing down his neck to the space where it met his shoulders, "or somewhere else?"
Steve's eyes lit up like a christmas tree at the prospect that this - whatever this was- wasn't over just yet. He gripped your hands on his belt buckle. "Not here." With little effort, he hoisted you over his shoulder - much to your shock and dismay. You swatted his back but couldn't help the swell of arousal as his arm tightened round your waist. He set you down on the edge of the bed, standing in front of you with one hand on your cheek. In the dim light of his bedroom, Steve Harrington was devastatingly handsome. The soft glow of peaches and oranges made his eyes a molten chocolate, skin peppered with a red hue from...exertion.
"It's rude to stare." he said, voice void of the smugness from before. It made your ribcage rattle, heart thudding with the weight of his stare. It felt like he was looking at your soul, and it made you shiver. The boy who'd tormented you for years, was seeing you. Staring right back at him, your hands made their way to his belt loops. It was your turn to make him writhe a bit.
"Can't help it," you said, voice all airy and entirely foreign to your ears. It dripped with a lust, husky and soft. "You're somewhat of a looker."
You ripped his jeans open, nimble hands ridding him of the garment in seconds. As you grabbed the waistband of his boxers, the outline of his cock straining against the fabric, his hand stopping you. "As amazing as that would be," he said regrettably, "if I don't get you on that bed, I think I may lose my mind." He said it so breathlessly that it made your thighs clench together. He wanted you so badly. You cocked your head to the side, half playful and half serious as you said, "Do something about it then."
Steve didn't need to be told twice. He dove into you, hand steadying your head as your lips locked together - an irritatingly perfect puzzle piece finding another. You were a tangle of legs, arms, and lips as the two of you buried yourselves in Steve Harrington's bed, ridding each other of the clothes that stopped your from touching one another completely. His knee found its home between you, shifting your legs apart to make room for hips. You were encased in Steve; his scent, the feel of his lips on your skin, his legs locking yours in place. His hips rocking into yours as he kissed your neck with sinful skill.
Your hands grew restless, tugging at the hairs at the nape of his neck as if he would understand the morse code in the pulling. "Steve," you groaned as he knocked his hips into yours, "please."
You were begging, and you were embarrassed. You couldn't bring yourself to say the words- couldn't stand the thought of asking your middle school bully to fuck you in his bed at his own party. But the boy had other ideas.
"Say it." he toyed with your clit, thumbing it as you whined. When you stayed silent, he pinched one of your nipples between his fingers. he smirked at how quickly they puckered underneath him. "Say you want me."
Your cheeks burned with shame. You couldn't - wouldn't- beg him.
He hovered over you, hands either side of your head, nose brushing yours. You could feel the ghost of his lips over your own. His hand came to rest on your chin, thumb sliding over your lip, tugging it down and letting it slide back. "Open."
You did as he said, opening your mouth wide enough for Steve to slide his thumb into your mouth, a teasing smile on his face as you swirled your tongue around it. "Say you want me to fuck you." He pulled his thumb out of your mouth slowly, grinning as it made a satisfying pop. He leaned down to the shell of your ear. "Tell me you want me to ruin you," he whispered.
The burn in the pit of your stomach raged as Steve kissed the hollow of your throat, waiting for you to speak. Your breath was shallow, eyes closed as you whispered into the air, hoping the buzz of the party below would swallow your words.
"I want you to ruin me."
Steve grinned, wolfish and smug, as he lined himself up with you, locking eyes with you as he pushed himself in. You knew you were gone when he moaned your name like a prayer, said it like it was the cure to his troubles. Like you were something to treasure. One strong arm gripped the headboard as he panted. "God," he grunted out, "you feel incredible."
There was something electric about hearing praise from the boy that tormented you for years, something wickedly delightful about watching his mouth hang open with pleasure as he bottomed out inside you. You clenched around him, desperate for any friction to satisfy the burning between your legs. "Can I move?" he groaned.
"Yes, please."
In public, Steve was an athlete. Behind closed doors, under the sheets, he was an Olympian. He set a fast pace, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, deeper inside of you every time. The sounds of the party- the drunken teens stumbling, the music blaring- were drowned out by the slapping of skin on skin, of your whines and Steve Harrington's moans as you fell apart beneath him.
"Shitshitshit- man, you're amazing." he moaned as he rutted into you. You were frozen in pleasure, mouth open from silent screams of pleasure. You bit your lip, so hard you would have tasted blood had Steve not being everything you felt in that moment. "Oh, fuck," you groaned at a particularly deep thrust, "I'm s-so close."
"Me too," Steve whimpered, and you were sure it was the hottest thing you'd ever heard. "Where should I-"
"I'm on the pill." you sputtered out.
Steve's eyes darkened, delighted at the permission, determined to get you to your peak before he fell apart himself. "Yeah? You gonna let me come inside?" His hand reached between your conjoined bodies, rubbing tight circles on your clit. "Gonna come for me?"
Your back arched off the mattress, the coil in your stomach snapping at the same time Steve collapsed on top of you, his stuttering as he came. You both panted, recovering from the exertion. Rolling over onto his back, you and Steve stared at the ceiling, the weight of what you had done sinking in.
It was wrong, so wrong. He'd just broken up with Nancy, seconds before you let him crawl between your legs. You would have felt terrible, like you'd betrayed her, had it not been so good.
You would have felt guilty, had you not felt the shake of your legs still reeling from the intensity of your orgasm.
Steve turned his head to face you. You turned to look at him.
"I'm sorry about how I treated you, before."
You snorted.
"You don't have to apologise just because we had sex, Steve." The ridiculousness of it made you laugh. "Thanks, though." You were both silent for a while, just laying there. You tried spying your clothes across the room. "Where's my underwear?"
"Oh," Steve mumbled, getting up from the bed and into the bathroom. You couldn't help but stare at his retreating form, back muscles flexing as he stretched. You did the same, a soreness washing over you. Steam filled the bathroom, the sound of the shower running loud against the dying party below. Steve returned in his jeans, smirking as pulled your lavender lace panties from the back pocket, tossing them at you. You caught them with one hand.
"Perv," you said, sliding them back up your legs. Steve smiled from the bathroom doorway. He was looking at you that way again. It made your stomach uneasy. "What?" you said.
"You can, uh, clean up here. If you want." He scratched the back of his neck. He gestured to the shower. You stomach flipped again. You rose from the bed, using the sheet to cover your chest. You stopped in front of Steve, who was struggling not to look down at your loosely covered front.
"This is not a thing, okay?" you said slowly, as if saying the words aloud would make them true. As if hearing them from your own lips would stop the way your lips yearned for Steve's the second they left your own. "This goes nowhere else."
Steve nodded, mockingly serious.
"Aye aye, Captain."
He grabbed your hand, making you drop the sheet, and led you into the steam filled bathroom. You let him wash your skin, all soap and too much affection given who he was to you. You didn't stop him when he kissed below your eye, on your nose, or when he placed an all too tender kiss on your lips for just a second. But it was long enough. You let him wrap you in a towel, drying you with gentle hands. You didn't object when he dressed you in his old basketball shorts and a tattered sweatshirt. You let him tuck you under his sheets, didn't flinch away when he tucked your hair behind your ear.
You let him wrap his arm over your waist when he returned, having kicked the last stragglers out of the house. You let yourself fall asleep in his bed, warm and soft and all too inviting, much like its inhabitant.
What you wouldn't do was let yourself fall for this, you thought. You wouldn't fall for Steve Harrington. Wouldn't fall for his moves, his overused lines. Wouldn't get wrapped up with the wrong guy.
But as morning came, and you turned to see Steve already looking at you, that look on his face, you thought that maybe it was too late. And by the looks of Steve Harrington, it was too late for him as well.
take me, so breathless (we could be reckless) (s.h)
masterlist
pairing: steve harrington x reader
desc: "let's get married." late night, whispered proposals, steve’s dream of having six daughters and general sappiness
a/n: based off the let's get married cover by mitski <3 it’s so pretty give it a listen or be lame forever!!
“You know,” Steve’s voice was barely a whisper, and lying next to him, you could feel it rumble in his chest, husky with sleep. “Fighting monsters, and nearly dying… it makes you wanna do the things you’ve always wanted to do. Before it’s too late.” He found your hand in the darkness, pressing the calloused pads of his fingers to yours before lacing them together, his fingers slotting perfectly in the spaces between yours.
He felt your cheek twitch against his bicep as you smiled into the crook of his arm. His tan skin glowed a shade of deep blue as twilight crept in through the window. You had been up with him all night, the room silent except for the hushed breathing of those sleeping around you, and the rasp of your exchanged whispers.
“You’ve been fighting monsters?” Your finger reached up to ghost the raw, red line slashed across his freckled-sprayed neck, Adam’s apple bobbing beneath your touch. “I haven’t noticed.”
His lips turned upward, a sweet, lop-sided smile, dimple furrowing into his cheek.
“Let’s get married.” He whispered.
Your heartbeat kicked into life, thrumming hard in your chest as you blinked up at him through wide eyes, a warmth spreading across your neck. You propped your arm up on the sleeping bag, looking back down at him, equally excited, shocked and wondrous. His smile grew bigger.
“What?”
“Let’s do it.” He grinned, mirroring your position as he pushed himself up on his forearm, thumb running over the uneven ridges of your knuckles. “Let’s get married.”
“You move pretty fast, y’know.” Your smile grew, an uncontrollable, dumb grin. You were completely happy. “We’ve only been dating for, what-”
“Five months, twenty-one days.” The response rolled off his tongue, immediate and exact. “But who’s counting?” He scoffed, waving an arm around nonchalantly, a giggle escaping your lips. “I’ve always wanted to get married.” He said, expression softening, his gentle eyes peering into yours. “I’ve always wanted to marry you. I think… I just knew. As soon as I met you. Plus, with everything going on, if anything happens to me-”
“Don’t say that.” You interrupted, the idea of losing him too awful to even entertain.
“If anything happens to me,” He continued, slowly, “I want to know I did what I’ve always wanted to do. I want to know I married the person I love.” His fingers drummed against your arm, a little nervously. “What do you say?”
“I’d love to.” A buzz of excitement sizzling through you, your fingers flexing subconsciously, shaking a little with exhilaration. You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. “I suppose I’m a little shocked.” You let out a breathy laugh. “It’s just so sudden, and, well… you know people usually have… proper adult conversations before making a big decision like this.” You chuckled, stumbling over your words.
“Okay. Let’s have a proper adult conversation, then.” He said, sitting up, poking fun at your clunky phrasing. He rolled out his sore shoulders, as if preparing himself for an onslaught of serious questioning. You couldn’t help but laugh as he tamped his smile down, morphing his face into his most serious expression. “What do we need to discuss?”
“Well, when will the wedding be?”
“What time does town hall open tomorrow?” He replied instantly, glancing at the watch around his wrist. You dissolved into laughter at his eagerness, running a finger gently across the cool glass of the watch.
“I don’t have anything to wear.” Your eyebrows furrowed.
“Wear that white dress I like. I have a suit.” He said decisively, running a thumb across your brow as if smoothing out the skin.
“Your parents will kill you.” You whispered dejectedly, the excitement you felt faltering as you grew still with worry.
“Who cares about them!” He exclaimed, almost a little too loudly. You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic outburst, peeking around your shoulder to check that your friends were still fast asleep. The sound of Robin’s soft snores reassured you. “They don’t need to know.” He mumbled. “Hey, I mean, it sounds cliche, but they don’t know about love. Not the way we do. They wouldn’t get it. So why bother about them?” The smile faded from his face, big, brown eyes trained on you. “We won’t end up like them.” He whispered, shaking his head softly. His voice was determined.
“We won’t end up like them.” You repeated, just as sure, tucking a loose curl that had fallen over his forehead back into place. He smiled, grabbing your hand and planting a kiss under your knuckle, nibbling at it a little to make you squeal as you drew your hand back in.
“Any other questions?” He laughed, fiddling with your fingers.
“Hm…God, what else would serious, proper adults discuss…” You pondered. “Oh! Do you want kids, eventually?
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Six.”
“Six?!” You choked, him gesturing for you to quiet down at risk of waking the rest up. “Six?!”
“Six.” He repeated decisively.
“How many boys, how many girls?”
“All girls.”
“All girls?” You giggled, raising an eyebrow.
“Shush. Don’t laugh.” He whispered, barely able to hold back his smile as he saw one form on your face. “Six kids. All girls. Travelling the world together. With you too, of course. So. What do you say? Tomorrow, as soon as town hall opens, in that dress I like?”
“One kid.” You bargained, smiling.
“Five.”
“Three.”
“Deal.” He smiled. “I didn’t like being an only child. It was lonely for me.”
“They’ll never be lonely. Not with us.” You muttered, lips lifting upward as you looked at him, your Steve. “Yeah. Let’s get married.”
He grinned, eyes crinkling in the corners in that sweet way that you loved, and you reached out to touch his cheek, the smooth surface dotted with freckles, warm to the touch as he blushed.
He leaned forward and kissed you as you cupped the nape of his neck gently, his soft hair brushing your hand as you felt his lips against yours, pink and soft. You felt heady, a gooey warmth building in your stomach as you smiled into the kiss. You were dizzy, dizzy with happiness.
You fell back into his arms, both of you glancing up at the window above you as the first golden rays of sunlight blended into the blue, daylight reaching into the room, brushing its beams across his sun kissed skin. His lashes, thick and dark, fluttered against the light before adjusting, looking at you, his eyes glowing in the light, hues of whiskey and honey.
“Are you crying?” You laughed, using your thumb to wick away a tear, glittering in the sun, rolling out from the corner of his eye.
“I’m just happy. Really happy.” He whispered. “Hey, you’re crying too!” He laughed, poking you in the side.
“Shut up.” You sniffled, smiling through your tears as you punched him in the arm. “Can’t believe I’m marrying a wuss.” You pouted, ducking your face away from him, tears of joy dropping gently onto his bare arm.
“Me too.” He joked. He tugged you closer to him, hand running up and down your back. The weight of his chin rested on the top of your head.
Can I request a prompt with Steve, using this one from the list you shared? “you sound pretty hot when you shut up."
Thank you angel!
Hi, hi! Sorry I have been delayed on getting to this! Thank you so much for sending it in ❤️❤️
This is from the prompt list here
Hope you like what I’ve come up with? It developed a mind of its own. ;P
Warnings: Language, smut, unprotected sex, creampie, NSFW, jealous!Steve, soft!Steve, all over the place smutty tension gone fluffy, mentions of sex with Eddie, slight voyeurism kink!Steve, breeding kink, Steve with a cuckolding kink, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, masturbation, sort of phone sex, soft sex, oral sex, Dom!Steve, and more!
~*~
You really didn’t want this. Anything but this. Alas, your inability to say no to your parents’ persistent requests, and your brother’s eagerness to return to the shithole that is your apocalyptic town—here you are. Why is it you that has to spend one hour in his ritzy my-daddy-bought-it-for-me luxury car? Granted, he is your brother’s High School bestfriend—one friendship the two former jocks actually managed to maintain.
You kick your worn converse sneaker at the dirt road, watching it swirl into tuffs and blanket the toe of your shoe. Raising your wrist, you glance at your watch. 4:36 PM. He’s fucking late. If you are forced to stand here any longer and battle with the violent butterflies clawing and climbing your insides, using them as totem poles, you know you’ll vomit what daily food intake that you’ve managed to entertain.
What makes him so cocky that he knows your parents still adore him and that pathetic charm, gracing him with the ability to be late in picking up their only daughter? Must be something in Hawkins devious little water supply. Your brother had phoned you this morning, your dad warning you both about impending storms and making sure to meet at the Indianapolis airport safely.
“Why can’t you do it?” You had all but whined.
He shushed you about his errands to prepare for your golden child sibling, asking you to please do this for him and your mother.
“Steve Harrington will be picking you up about a block down near the old bus stop, around 4:20 or so.”
They had missed your rejected ramblings, the way your heart rate spiked and your cheeks dusted with prickles of pink.
“Stupid Steve.” You cross your arms, eyes glaring daggers at a graffiti sprayed STOP sign across the roadway.
Fuck. Speak of the handsome devil himself, magnetized by your thought mulling. You hear a car traveling down the road at a slowing speed. Your guts drop into your ass.
In your side-eye vision, you try not to see his fancy ride approaching you, like an awaiting chariot on the highway to hell, and pretend he’s not even here yet, allowing yourself more protective shields of anger. When gravel crunches beneath newly aired tires, that freckle speckled arm dangles out the window, watch wrapped around a firm wrist, you briefly glance.
Damn it. He’s fucking beautiful.
Heaving your backpack over your shoulder, you accept his beckoning hand, but wave off his attempts to get out to help you with your door. He doesn’t need to overdo it, the hairy idiot. Once inside his overly clean car, you let your bag rest between your feet on the floorboard, snapping your seatbelt into place, praying for strength when you never ever do. Steve settles back behind the wheel, his voice a whole hell of a lot deeper than you remember.
“Hey, sorry I lost track of time. I was making sure I had everything in case the storms get bad before we get to a place with some shelter, and—“
“It’s fine, Harrington.” Your usage of his last name and not his first, that biting sass shadowing it. It hurts him more than he expects.
And you, you’ve forgotten how much that suffocating push of trauma and brush offs—down inside you—have damaged your psyche and conversational abilities with anyone that isn’t your current bestfriend back in Hawkins. Steve watches you bite into a knuckle, chewing on a fingernail, facing completely turned away, busying yourself by looking at the cornfield to your right, and his jugular constricts around a sore inhalation. This won’t be simple or easy, and as he flips through the catalogue of his mistakes—you, more so, what happened with you two—that’s probably the biggest. He puts the gears in drive, a sigh frolicking beneath his pursed lips. Indy is a long way from home.
~*~
Okay, so maybe a little over an hour isn’t that much to travel—in retrospect, but when you’re crowded into a semi-confined space and have one extra passenger in the form of a static shrouded radio—it feels like eternity. For twenty minutes you’ve managed to avoid a blinking glance in Steve Harrington’s direction, and you’re just fine with this. That is, until he gets the bright idea to switch off said static to try for some conversation instead.
“I don’t ever remember you being this quiet.” He tries gently, fingertips drumming against a leather wheel.
You shrug. Should’ve brought my Walkman.
Steve does sigh this time, abdomen flexing against the motion. “Really? We’re just not gonna say anything to each other for the next forty minutes?”
Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. Don’t—ah, fuck…
His hair is still shaggy, shaped a bit more, highlighted to frame his once boyish features, now completely structured in that Steve way. Older, more mature. He’s still got those freckles that are scattered across his neck, splattered across his arms, some speckled onto his right cheek, dipping into the collar of his maroon button up and white under shirt combo. His hazelnut irises are irked in their irritating sparks. You get some sick satisfaction that you’ve irritated him.
“You know I can see you staring at me, right?”
Snorting, you crack your window, letting your fingers filter out and soak in some cool air. The rain is thick on the atmosphere, clouds rolling in at their rapid paces. Maybe you can keep docking his conversing attempts.
“Silent treatment, huh? Real freakin’ mature, Y/N.”
Him acknowledging your name shouldn’t gnaw at your stomach and stir that chained beast awake like it does. Your mouth is opening before you can stop it.
“I’m not in your car to talk to you, Steve. We’re getting your bestfriend and my brother—that’s it. Don’t be dramatic about it.” You roll your eyes with a protesting sting.
You hear the leather crunch beneath his white knuckled grip, a lowly, sarcastic chuckle breaking free. “Dramatic is refusing to talk to someone you’ve known since birth, all because he wouldn’t sleep with you.”
And there it is. Steve’s own admission has guilt spreading all across his face, mouth opening to find words, a pathetic sound coming through. Your insides take a punch or sixty. Biting down on the plump flesh inside of your cheek, you go completely silent, trying like hell to fight invading memories. It falls flat, and you are more than aware Steve is probably caught in memory lane’s trap.
“Please, Steve?” Your smile is shy, hands trembling as you hold onto your fisting grip of his white t-shirt, noses nudged together, mouths so very close to finally having that first taste.
“Y/N… It’s not, we shouldn’t. Your brother, and everything that keeps happening.”
“Then why do you keep looking at me like you want something, like you need something? I know it, Steve, because I fucking need it too.” Exasperated, you begin to fold, until Steve’s hands wind around your waist—locking tight.
“Please…” If he’s begging you, fighting with himself, waging a battle over the universe (you assume it’s all three), Steve whimpers, furthering your courage. An honest to god feral submission.
“I want you to be the one, baby.” You let the name you’ve called him so many times when you fuck yourself at night—flow free. Running a hand through chestnut locks, breathing him in, closing, barely sampling his mouth.
“Fuck…” His knee juts out, thick thigh slotting between your thighs, hand cupping the back of your head, the other remaining on your waist to pull in, loosening, repeating.
“God, that’s it. You can even take me just like this.” You tug him flush to form, breasts smashed over his ribcage, heat space shared. His aftershave clouds your senses, his leg still frozen in place, thigh squished against your cunt. If you move, you’ll get your first kiss with him, you’ll release some friction, you’ll have. You can’t think of anything else.
Steve. He’s all you want, all you’ve ever fucking wanted. He’s—
“Too much. Y/N, no.” And you’re left in a one woman space, Steve leaving you alone in his living room.
You bend and shimmy your bag flap open, seeking that cellophane pack out, bringing the stick with your lighter, taking solace in the sizzle, raw tobacco scent soaking into your lips, flash of bright cherry ash as you inhale, relaxing into a diaphragm-deep breath.
“Since when did you pick up that nasty ass habit?” Steve is discombobulated, amusing you.
You roll your shoulders back to ease tension, flicking the growing end off your smoke. “Since Eddie.”
“Eddie?” Steve repeats. “As in Munson? Serial senior repeater, first class freak?”
A possessive protectiveness cocoons you, having you turn on your former crush, tone dangerously angered. “Eddie Munson, as in first class sweetheart and my bestfriend,” you say in a seething rasp, tilting your head back to blow smoke through the cracked glass, muttering as an afterthought, “you’re still an all star douchebag.”
Steve’s jaw does clench amongst the rubble of his lost patience, his foot hitting the pedal a little rougher and having to reign it in. “So that’s who you’ve been hanging out with for the past year? Your brother says you’re barely home.”
“Why would you even want to know where I am? And why are you asking shit about me?” Your laugh is bemused, expression pressed.
“Who else will tell me how you’re doing?” Steve deadpans, those brows pinched tightly together.
“Considering I stopped wanting anything to do with you, I should say you really don’t need any cues on figuring out that I don’t want any part of you involved in my life anymore, Harrington.” You switch on his last name, humorless.
When he’s silent, you continue. “You don’t notice how I purposely avoid the store when you’re at work? Or I’m with the group when you aren’t…? Nobody questions shit, because they know I don’t want to be around you. But you? Welcome to Oblivious City, we have your accommodations ready, Sir.” You mock.
“Can’t,” Steve interjects, his eyes primed to an irate upset. He cuts you off before you can say anything, “you can’t be around me.”
“Excuse me?” You’re incredulous, this roaring of your heartbeat thumping in your ears.
“I fucking said you can’t be around me. It’s not that you don’t want to be, it’s that we both know you can’t be. You need a room key to my suite in the Oblivious Hotel, Y/N?” His foul usage of the word and his precipice-dangling tone, they catch you off guard.
He’s getting waved over with his bitterness, that cigarette burned down enough that its dying butt burns your fingertip. You flick it out, tuning out the roaring highway, crossing your arms over your chest. “Still cocky, huh, Steve? Thinking I want you after all this time. That I’m the damsel who will weep at the mere sight of you. Newsflash, fuck you!”
“Yeah, you tried.” He snaps.
Your hand literally balls into a fist, lashing out right on your tongue, prickling your flesh, lining it with goosebumps. You would give anything to run right now. Instead, you roll those eyes of yours, burying the hurt down into ocean floors undiscovered, choosing to let it flow, and fight.
“Well it ended up working out for us both, didn’t it? You didn’t have to deal with my mooning eyes, our cliche situation, and I found someone who cares about me and what I have to say. He knows me, he respects me. He—“
“Yeah, I’m real sure Eddie Munson respects anyone. He’s probably buttering you up to screw you and tell his friends. That kinda shit is not you, Y/N.”
“Fucking hell, Steve, I’m not an infant. I’m an adult, a grown ass woman, who you do not know anymore, and you are judging someone like that cocky junior macho Steve, the one who called his ex a slut for needing comfort. As for Eddie? He’s ten times kinder than you’ll ever be.” You tell him, the rest slipping and tumbling right off your lips. “and besides, we’ve already screwed.”
Your emphasis on his crude referral, followed by an eerie silence of only heavy breaths, Steve’s voice is lighter, disbelieving. “You’re only saying you and Munson slept together to get a rise out of me.”
You match his wavering tone. “I’m not.
Steve takes a rough exit, causing you to wrap your hand tightly around the door handle, before he is parking into a gas station lot, cutting the engine so abruptly that you barely have time to blink. You both simply sit. Semis roar past, fast vehicles making their way to places unknown, and meanwhile, your sanity is unraveling. You need to get the fuck out of this car for a minute. Grabbing your backpack, you start to open the passenger door. “I’m gonna go grab something to drink.”
“Why?” How that honey sharp voice is decorated in anguished blotches, it weakens your resolve, making you stay put. Neither of you look at one another, instead aiming a choice to focus on the gas price sign and promise of a home cooked meal about a mile away.
When you’re sure you won’t break down into tears, you answer, “Because it’s something we both needed.”
“When did you… when?”
“Steve…”
“Y/N…”
You close your eyes, running your hands through your hair, before letting them drop onto your thighs with a thud. “A few months ago.”
“Was he your first?”
He’s watching you now, making your sternum tight, heartbeat spike, it’s forceful beats tap dancing on your ribcage. You turn to him in a languid crunch of your body to his seat’s leather. “Is it really your place to ask me that?” It’s a pathetic delay, a weakened rebuttal, because you both know you’ll answer him.
Steve, ever perceptive, needs you to vocalize what he can read in how you’re avoiding a direct frame to frame stare. He does the one thing he can think to, an action that’s furthest from what he should do. He’s never been an academic anyway, so fuck it. His fingers filter underneath your chin, making you meet his hazel gaze in a gentle sweep. He’s searching, craving to acquire. You’re putty in that familiar hand, home.
You nod. “Yes, Steve. Eddie was my first.”
Steve nods with you, not removing his grip, gravely tone wet and washed. “Was he good to you? Did he take care of you?”
“He’s my bestfriend, Steve. He loves me and I love him. He’s not who you and that whole shitbag town think he is.”
He lets go, leaving a ghosting sensation to filter across your skin. His hands rest on those thighs, sweeping his palms back and forth. “You’re okay? It wasn’t… It was what you wanted, right?”
“You know what I wanted, Steve. Eddie gave me something I needed, and I’m glad it was him that did. If you weren’t going to.” You pause, before continuing. “Look, he understood my past. I know his shit. It felt right in the moment, so it happened.” He looks on the verge of tears, something you’d not seen since Nancy Wheeler dumped him.
You shake your head, unable to stand how tight your lungs are being squeezed with anxiety. “Can you… I can’t fucking talk about this with you anymore. Please, Steve. Let’s just go get my brother and we’ll be done with each other, like you were done with me in your living room.”
“That’s not fair.” He starts to lean back over, but you stamp your back to the door.
“Either we go, or I go. There’s nothing to talk about anymore—fair or not. This isn’t some episode of Dynasty.”
More broken and boyish than you’ve seen drip from the guy you’ve been in love with for years, Steve starts the car and you head back out.
~*~
You hadn’t gotten very far, stopped by a road block and a re-direction of traffic that startled you both. You shared concerned looks, a cop bending down eye level, a smile plastered onto his face. He had informed you of a flooded roadway due to previous weather, and a lot of structural issues with the approaching storm and how bad they expected it. Steve had already familiarized himself with the routes he could take to the airport from his map, and with the longer route your viable option, it also became the least likely to get you anywhere sheltered. He had no choice but to follow several other cars and take the long route, passing up home cooking and pulling into the Holiday Inn.
~*~
You hang up the office phone, thanking the front desk clerk for letting you call your folks. Steve is waiting outside, one leg propped against a steel beam, swinging two room keys from his fingers, rain and thunder swirling in behind him, muddling your senses. He breaks through your observant reverie.
“They get a hold of him?”
“Uh… yeah, said his flight landed in Chicago instead, because they’re getting hit pretty hard up there, but that’ll he’ll be in tomorrow afternoon. My dad said he’d pay—“
“It’s taken care of. You got anything else other than your bag?” He extends his arm, stiff, his voice disconnected. You frown. He paid for you a room too? Rather than sharing one? It shouldn’t upset you the way it does, but you snatch it from his fingers and eye the number, moving ahead of him with a quick promising retort of, “I’ll pay you back when we get home. Thanks.”
~*~
You watch him standing on the balcony after he followed you to your side by side rooms, paused near your door, a lost look, a confused look, an upsetting gnawing. He chews his upper lip, but you unlock your door and slam it in his face. You don’t need this.
As mad as you are, you are grateful to have some solitude for a little while. You’d brought a clean shirt and panties, so you dig it out with your toiletry bag, heading to take a quick shower before the lightning hits. It takes you a little longer, thinking, being dazed about how he looked when you confided your revelation to him, that satisfaction of telling him you’re no longer a virgin and he lost out. Yet, the pain you feel for causing him that hurt, it’s very present and very much pissing you off. He ditched you, he humiliated you.
You have every right to move on and protect your peace of mind. Turning off the shower, you cautiously climb out and dry off, dressing in your oversized lavender t-shirt and panties. With a quick brush of your hair and a sweep of the normal motel room, you pop on the TV, giving up when its signal weaves in and out.
Now what?
You try calling out on your room’s phone to Eddie, but you can’t do that, either. As the hailing ice begins to make itself known outside, your bare feet pad along the carpeting, pushing your curtains aside. You can barely see the parking lot, the sky covered in dark hues of gray and murky blue, wind whipping in whistles, carrying rain in thrashes across your window. What the fuck are you gonna do for the rest of the evening and night?
Maybe a nap will help…?
Not like there’s anything else but your cigarettes and a damned broken heart with you. The mattress isn’t too bad underneath your back, but you aren’t comfortable. You’re nervous with every crackling thunderous boom and flash of electricity across the sky, illuminating your darkened room, flowing by a flickering lamplight. It’s almost more desolate than Steve’s car and your feelings.
Ring
Ring
“Shit!” You curse, startled by the bedside telephone.
You don’t think, snatching the receiver up, happy the service is working again, seemingly. “Um, yeah?” Assuming it was your parents, you are unprepared, your insides tangling themselves together and tying a nice little bow when you hear that person speak.
“Hey, Y/N.”
Steve.
~*~
Your fingers are wrapped tightly around the plastic handle, this charge surging on the air. You lick your lips and wait, pulse point jumping significantly, a resounding throb from your cradled wrist against the phone.
“Steve—“
“Why did you agree to come with me? I could’ve gotten your brother on my own.”
You’re a fucking liar if you blame this all on your parents, and Steve Harrington has caught you.
“You were more than happy to tell me about Eddie Munson taking your virginity, weren’t you? You got off on it.” There’s a clipped warmth to his accusation.
“Won’t deny that it felt kinda good.” You admit.
“Yeah, how good did Munson feel? Was he gentle with you, or did he take you hard?”
Your legs rustle the sheet and quilted fabric combo below, thighs pressing together. Oh fuck.
“Remember what I said about it not being your place?” You’re already drenched in the high. Playing along, this struggling shift, a territory, an excitement bubbling inside your body, leaving you chilled from your neck to your toes.
“You probably would’ve wanted me there to watch, yeah? Maybe Munson had you against a wall like you begged me for. I’ll bet that’s it, huh?”
You whimper, unable to stifle it. You hear Steve cursing, his own bedsheets noisy. And you wonder… That fucking throbbing needing satiated.
“Is your hand in your panties, Y/N?”
You sigh on a growing swelter, licking your lips, switching the phone to your left ear, tossing the cord behind your head, following his questioning, letting yourself get lost as your fingers rub yourself over the sopping wet cotton. You damn near abandon the phone, craving to get off without caring about your reservations to him hearing. You bypass that quickly, his articulation clear as a bell.
“Tell me what you feel like, Y/N.”
“I’m—Steve.” Fumbling fingers slip past elastic and into a slippery mess. You mewl through the receiver, arching into your palm.
More movement on Steve’s side and you absolutely lose all rationality. He’s getting himself off with me.
“Yeah? S’ it really wet, or do you need more help?”
Help…
You black out, blanking, fingers smashed between your soaked cunt and knuckles pressing against the crotch of your saturated underwear.
“I’m soaked, Steve.” You practically purr his name, a golden mantra.
He groans, a burly pitch that makes you smack your own arousal in wanton neglect.
“Was that…? Jesus Christ, Y/N. You’re a real good girl for me, getting so wet just on the phone.”
His pet name is another arch, this time your fingers working their way through your slick, sloshing it with a squelch.
“Did it hurt when Munson first slid home? Bet he nearly blew his load inside your virgin pussy.”
“Hurt so bad,” you whine. “held on tight, clawed his back, left m-marks.”
“Oh yeah? Did it take him a while to split you open enough to take him?”
“Steve, shit.” You want to scold, but it comes out as a plea.
“C’mon baby, I wanna know.” You dip your fingers inside yourself when he calls you the nickname you’ve always wanted to hear, a dull sharp protesting as you do, not used to the intrusion, even if you’d had Eddie before.
“He had to finger me a while.” You’re flushed and heating in flames.
“You cum?” You hear an after questioning “Mhm” come from Steve’s end.
“All over his hand. He plays guitar, you know. He’s got fucking perfect hands for sex. For everything.” You toss your head into the pillow, already working yourself into an oncoming frenzy, your first orgasm with Steve. You can taste it, how it is working its way up your legs, your hand moving faster. “Fuck, Steve. I’m gonna cum, can I cum?”
And then… nothing. You hear the line go dead and you’re left on that cliff, levitating over the edge. Embarrassed and ashamed, falling for his bullshit once again, you toss the phone onto the floor and rip your hand from your undergarment as if it’s on fire. Wiping the tears of stolen release and hurt, you kick off the bedsheets in a rapid ministration.
Knock knock
Hesitant, still worked to a tensed vice, you make your way to the door and gently pry it open. There, on the other side, rain billowing out behind him, ice colliding with metal railings, you see Steve Harrington in his white under shirt and boxers, hard as a rock and practically salivating, as if he’s finally caught his prey.
“Steve…” It’s a broken urgency, an alarming prayer to be granted. You can’t take another rejection from him, and he isn’t prepared to let you go this time.
He meets you on the threshold, cupping your face in those big hands, mouth smashing over yours, sealing himself to you, your hands tugging, yanking, working your fingers beneath his shirt and up his back, clenching his shoulders. His arms move down your body, stroking back and forth across your arms, tapping your wrists, settling behind your knees and bringing you to a tip toed jump, wrapping your legs around that firm and toned waist. He lets one hand go, the other keeping you around him, helping you paw at his shirt, that ache of too much time passing without his skin on yours making your head swim. Steve tilts his head back, discarding the first article behind him. You attack his neck with biting ownership.
He moves, your back colliding into the cool wall, lips sucking marks all over Steve’s neck, licking his jugular until you feel him swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing against your tongue. He’s pushing your own shirt around in circles on your back, alternating between bunching it and twisting its fabric. When your mouth leaves a littered amount of claim, you assess, Steve rutting into you.
“Fuck. Yeah, you like it like this, don’t you, baby? Just how you asked me for it in my living room.”
Your hand fluffs into his hair and you pull. Hard. That awakens something in Steve that crests into a sweltering, sticky heat. You watch his irises, sprinkled with flecks of cinnamon, fully give way to blown pupils. He lets you drop down, feet on the floor, his silhouette towering over, minty breath on your face, hot and flooding. He dips down, hand cupping you over your ruined panties.
“Mine.” He takes possession of your mouth, tongue forcing open your lips, meeting you in a sloppy, slow kiss that has you rubbing yourself over his palm.
He smacks your cunt to hear that sopping patch overflow fabric and soak his fingers. Spinning you around in a dizzying blur, he tosses you onto the bed, pinning you, cradling your neck in a cupping kiss, raising with you, taking your bottom lip in between his teeth and letting go with a plop. Steve looks drunk as he memorizes you this way, shedding his boxers. On your elbows, you lick across your teeth. He’s a good length, but not too much, making up for it in a girth that promises your inability to sit tomorrow.
“Give me something to work with.” You frown, Steve having to step forward and run two fingers along your slit, pushing your panties into your soaked lips, using what he gathered to touch himself with. “Share, Y/N.”
He tickles his fingertips along his cock, barely grazing, stimulating himself, that bubbling white beaded at the top, creamy and thick. You wanna taste it. It’s yours.
You lift, working your panties off your legs and letting them join wherever Steve’s boxers went.
“Good girl. Spread them for me.” He runs a hand through his hair, shaking its length.
And your legs part for him, that messy want stringing from your labia to your thighs. You’re warm and unattended, tucking your arms beneath your breasts and flinging off your t-shirt, leaving you bare. Steve curses, running his spare hand across that hairy chest and over his neck, pathing around his lips, before he licks his mouth.
“Did Munson ever taste your pussy?”
He’s fighting the urge to rut into his hand and paint your tits with his seed. You shake your head, lust drunk. Gone.
“Then I’m gonna be the first.” Jerking your by your ankles to edge your ass off the bed, he kneels, draping your legs down that freckly back, your thighs caressed by his silky tresses.
You don’t dare take your eyes off him, his expanding, lustful gaze stapling you in place. Steve doesn’t hesitate, pulling your cunt against his face, burying his mouth in you. He doesn’t tease, with the exception of tiny bites to your thighs, cleaning the wetness from the crease where your thigh meets your dripping pussy.
“Oh, fuck.” Your back is hurting, fighting against a trembling onset to collapse.
Hearing Steve Harrington devour your cunt like he’s a ravenous animal, it’s something you’ve never been able to imagine, even in your wildest fantasies. And seeing it? His jaw shifts in rapid movements, those lips closing over your clit, his hair strands frolicking all over his head, messy from your violent pulling. You’re simpering onto broken syllables of his name, and he’s letting your legs bounce onto the mattress, once again, dulling that fire in your belly to a teasing temptation. You don’t get to say his name, awaiting instruction obediently and obliging.
Steve licks the roof of his mouth, stroking himself. “You think you deserve this inside you? You gave your cunt away to Eddie Munson.”
You bat at him in your wit, licking your mouth as you spread your swollen lips open for him, proud of your brief control, and his loss of it. “You’re jealous of Eddie Munson for being the first guy inside of me, aren’t you? The way I held onto him, let him finish without pulling out. We watched it drip back out of me, Steve. You know how fucking hot that was?”
Steve’s darkened eyes widen, a growl escaping his red lips. He squeezes himself at the base, his own slick mixing with yours, glistening at the curls that rest around his shaft. He is silent, alternating between watching your soaking cunt and your blown out pupils. It takes an agonizing several seconds of heavy petting, a violent storm shattering its echos across the windows, before Steve speaks. “You let him cum inside of you, Y/N?”
“I did, Steve. He took me nice and slow, then fucked me up his bed until my nails left scratches all across his back. He even asked me where I wanted him to, and I chose for him to do it inside me.”
Steve is well aware of how you’re baiting him by the truth, and it’s working in the most electrically charged way.
Heaving a lowly, excited pant, he tips a command. “Stop touching yourself and get in the middle of the bed, on your back.”
“What about the wall?” You smart off, stomach matted with that pummeling, aroused adrenaline.
Steve smirks. “The wall s’ not gonna hold us up for what I’m gonna do to you.”
You shiver, obeying him immediately, thighs sticking together as you await his next stepping move.
Steve is lazy in getting to you, stroking his cock with his thumb pad caressing that pre-cum all around the flushed head. He doesn’t even have to ask, your mouth opening and accepting the digit, sucking him clean, teeth scraping. You reach out for him and he grasps your wrist, pinning them above your head, kneeing his way onto the bed and right into slotting between your thighs, dipping his hips and rutting his cock through your swollen heat. Your knees raise, legs widening. “Steve!”
He brings his lips to the corner of your mouth, your hips bumping, sticking together with each rear back. His tone is fucked, obliterated beneath a husky rasp. “M’ right here. Gonna show you how I would’ve taken you.” His forearms flex to keep him up, his mouth finding your neck, kissing, suckling in tiny stings. He makes his way up your chin, feather light, lacing your pressed hands together, holding.
“Never thought we’d be here, like this…” You trail off, lips wet and impatient for more of Steve Harrington’s kisses.
“I always hoped we would.” Is Steve’s answer, as he releases one interlocked hand to cup your cheek. “You know what I would have done if we had gotten together that night?”
“Tell me, Steve.” Your calves are sliding up and down his waistline, his cock completely covered in your natural need for him.
“Would’ve taken one of my fingers and let you get used to me, then when you started to cry out for more, you woulda gotten a second. The stretch, in my mind, it caused your sniffling, burying your face into my neck and asking me to make it better for you. And when I finally surprised you by finding that sweet clit, I’d tell you to help me touch you the way you liked it. The way I heard when I slept over at your house and you were playing with yourself on the other side of the wall. You think I didn’t know how you reacted when I’d hug you, Y/N?”
“I..” You’re breathless, that tingling shame.
He nicks the underside of your jaw with a particularly rough nibble, his tongue flicking to soothe.
“And you know what I did, baby? I went into the bathroom across the hall from your room, the one you use, the one that smelled like your perfume, and I jerked off like some perverted little slime ball. Embarrassing how fast I came, how hard, and all because I was imagining it was me in bed with you, being your guy, the first one fucking you into your mattress with my hand over your mouth.” Steve bites your bottom lip between his teeth, before parting your lips and finding your tongue with his, messy and perfect.
“Keep… can you keep tellin’ me what you would’ve done to me that night at your place?” High on nostalgia, but greedy to have his thoughts on your shared life altering event, you whimper, taking your free hand to settle in the tufts of his chocolate locks.
“Pretty girl.” Steve breaks. “You don’t want me to tell you about the times that I touched myself in your house, with your parents and your brother asleep down the hallway?”
A metaphorical missed step on a staircase, you’re engaged to that erratic heart rate.
“Hmm.” It’s a simpered sound off his swollen mouth. “I did say I wanted to tell you what I’d do, didn’t I?” He dips his fingers behind your neck, squeezing.
“Have to know.” You whimper, tugging on a tuft of a toffee tress.
“You’ve always been able to distract me. All the shit I’ve felt for you over the years, Y/N…” Steve is losing it again (did you two ever really calm down, pleasure swept and scattered), obliterating his own train of thought.
You speak for him. “Did you think about a third finger? About making me cry and struggle to take what you wanted to give me? About how my brother was recovering from Billy Hargrove’s fist and all that shit with the monsters, in your downstairs guest room?”
Steve’s hand tightens in yours, eyes fluttering closed, nodding into the memory. “Almost took your panties off and got on my knees for you. I wouldn’t have fucked you against the wall, though. We would’ve went into my room, where I would have laid you out, made you cum until you soaked the sheets, and then when… we-“
“Fucked?” You smirk, but he shakes his head.
“No, baby. Made love.”
You give a whisper of his name, that word ‘love’ alarmingly brisk but there. Not sex, but actual romantic, slow, can’t separate without breathing in the other—type of love. Though there’s that underlying heat, this walk down memory lane has a familiar vulnerability seeping back in, especially with what he’s implying. “Steve?”
He opens his eyes, searching your face, immediate concern. He’s grown so much, matured since the last year. You’ve fucking missed him. He brushes your hair back behind your ear, nose bumping yours, kissing you, fingertips rubbing the underside of your combined hands. “I’m right here with you, Y/N. I know. I fucking feel it too.”
You don’t have to question him further, don’t have to hear that anymore on how he imagined being the one to take your innocence. He’s always had you, he always will. You lock your ankles around his lower back, hand reaching down between your bodies and gripping him around his cock, you press it through your glistening lips, enticed by that thin ring of hazel left in his eyes, the way he’s ever so patient, thumb brushing your knuckles, encouraging, consenting.
“It’s all you and me, Y/N.”
Snapping into the cones of your mind, winding around every cell inside your brain like wild vines, that high, that fullness, two bodies meeting for the first time—you won’t forget how Steve Harrington feels as you bring him inside of you for the very first time.
He’s in shambles of broken off curses, your thighs are trembling, Steve having to release your hand to hold beneath your knee and keep you held around him. He doesn’t move, you don’t dare. It hurts. It burns. You’re so damn full of Steve Harrington that your eyes burn with tears—cool and wilting into your lash line.
When try to speak, all that comes out is a pathetic gasp, your hand resting against your soaked sex, still holding onto him, keeping him where he belongs, Steve sheathed in full, balls settled at the globes of your cheeks. It’s too much for you to keep that wrap, letting your hand find his shoulder blade, pinching the skin, scratching along those places you know are dotted with freckles. Steve has to drop his face into your neck’s crook, huffing a quivering set of panting breaths, hot on your shoulder. If you listen closely you’ll hear that rush of traffic, rain soaked asphalt being battered by cars attempting to beat the weather, ice hitting the roof, the window, wind whistling violently, thunder crashing loudly, and your bass thumping heartbeat, a rising storm approaching—not outside—but within.
Steve picks himself up from his cocoon in your neck, laying kisses across your flesh down to your shoulder, letting go of your leg and propping himself on his palms, mattress indented with the movement. He kisses you ever-so-softly, matter-of-factly, like you’re his. As he breaks away, your saliva strings together, mouths heavy. “You okay with me moving, or do you need a few more-“
“Please, Steve.” Years of yearning, emotion bubbles bursting, you plead, tightening your grip on his back.
Steve holds onto your jaw, thumb on your mouth’s corner, making you face his longingly admired gaze. When he’s got your eyes on his, he pulls himself out a little, enough where you’re crooning on the slippery glide. He smiles that Steve Harrington smile and he does it again. Picking up a rhythm, your hips moving in tandem, you aren’t sure where you begin and he ends. Your hands begging to venture, you permit, drawing traces in his muscles moving beneath perspired skin, your other hand combing his neck’s nape, fingers spreading apart to run through wisps of hair.
He’s whining, tendons straining in his neck, moving easily enough, slowing alternations, ones that have you feeling every inch of his cock, every sopping press in, your cunt coating him with a fresh wave of arousal everytime his balls slap your ass.
“You know how dangerous letting Munson fuck you without a rubber was, Y/N?” He speaks out, catching you off guard, that dominance starting to enchant his winded features, soaring with held hands, coasting over his now harsher thrusts.
Oh, so this is how he wants to play it.
“I was cock drunk. What can I say?”
Steve inhales through clenched teeth, the noise a hiss. “Yeah, you don’t get off on making me jealous, at all.”
“Seems like you wanna watch Eddie Munson fuck me though, doesn’t it?”
He twitches, literally throbs inside your tight cunt. Your nails leave crescent shapes, lips parting in a surprised purse.
“Holy fuck, you do, don’t you? You wanna see Eddie fuck me. I can’t believe-“
Steve snaps his hips into a low dipped draw, literally taking you up the bed, your thighs parting further into a stretching sting from the shifting position. That keeps your back talk down, only a pathetic coo of his name dumping off your spit stained lips.
Steve grins, strung out tone ingrained into your memory. “You sound pretty hot when you shut up.”
His wrist works itself between your bodies, fingers finding your glistening clit with ease. He isn’t finished torturing you yet. “It’s dangerous now. Letting me take you without protection. What if I got you pregnant, baby?”
It’s you who clenches around him this time, breath stuttering, coming from your throat in a choked swirl. Steve captures your mouth in a brutal kiss as his answer to that revealed turn-on, teeth biting at your lips, tugging, releasing, only to do it again. Seems like you both have newly discovered kinks. He presses his finger in fast paced circles, your stomach beginning to bottom out from the oncoming pressure of that tickling release. It’s hard to stay here and not float away, chasing the high.
This is all you’ve ever wanted, for years. That sheer fact has you encouraging Steve. “Need you to fucking fill me up, Steve.”
“Yeah, you want my cum in your pussy, Y/N?” He responds, head dropping down to give your neglected nipples some lavishing attention.
It’s frenzied after, his chest smashing your breasts, dragging the globes with each thrust, skin on skin smacking, wetness squelching, rough and broken pants that Steve pieces together with messy and strong kisses. Your eyes roll back, vision dotting with shapes, lids fluttering. That feeling singes your muscles, sparking that tickling ache with a shock so jarring, that you literally cry out. “Steve, I’m cumming! Please, Steve.”
“Oh, fuck.” Is all he can say in the exact moment, both of you fused together like magnets, he’s in awe of your release, flooding his cock, drowning his last remains of control. His chest aches, hips sore, ass clenching, holding, cock swelling inside you. You cradle his head, noses bumping, faces searching, and he lets go with a soft cry, words diving off his lips into the pooled expanse of your shared breaths. “I love you.” And he’s painting your sore and aching cunt with his cum, his admission making it so intense your vision blacks out, thunder crackling its booming track in the distance, the lamp flickering, before all the lights give way to the storm and leave you shaking in Steve’s arms as he collapses on top of your bosom.
The rain is heavy—albeit—easy. You lay with Steve and his confession—both weighing you into the sex-soaked sheets. You push tendrils of hair off his sweaty forehead, tears already slipping from the corner of your eyes. He hears your sniffling, sitting up and causing you to wince when he slides out, his cum and your own, sticky along your thighs, smeared across his shaft.
“What’s wrong?” He holds you by the back of your head, a stern brow you can barely see illuminated by the lightning through the window.
“You do realize that you just told me you loved me?” You whimper, trying to will your thighs into stopping their shaking.
Steve’s chest warms, a new blush blossoming across the apple of his cheeks. Now or never.
“I did. And I do, more than anything. If you knew the reasons why I stopped you that night, why I stayed away too, it wouldn’t have taken us this long to get here. I know that that’s on me, babe, I know it. But after you left that night, then later that year, the shit that happened with Starcourt—all of it, I need you to know now.”
“Why did you?” You’re sure your blood pressure is rising, your pulse jumping its uneven beats beneath your skin.
“Why did I stop you?” Steve’s voice is lighter, cautious. You’re all too aware it’s taking a hefty amount of vulnerability to tell you all this, especially after so long. You wait, giving him time. “I was scared, because there was always something going on. And I thought I’d ruin you, mess everything up. Cliché, yeah. I’m well aware of how lame this sounds, and I have no right to claim you like some Neanderthal.”
“You don’t need to claim me when I’ve always been yours, Steve.” Climbing into his lap, it’s you that hides your face in the curvature of his shoulder and neck. He wraps his arms around you, rocking you back and forth in light motions.
When you tilt back in a small shift, you’re overcome with the day’s events, but it’s time. “I love you, Steve Harrington.”
You see that smile, even in the darkness.
~*~
The roadways were shit by the time they’d opened back up mid-afternoon. Not that you and your boyfriend (yeah, it was decided after confessions that Steve became your boyfriend) would complain about the waiting duration, giving you time to make more messes of the motel sheets, talk over that home cooked meal, and even share a cigarette (something that Steve hasn’t partaken in for years). Your hands are laced, smiles carefree, him occasionally throwing smirks and snark, and you—having trouble sitting, even on his expensive leather seat.
Your brother is already waiting curbside at the airport, tossing his bags into the popped trunk as he and Steve share a hug, you remaining in a less limping position in the passenger side, totally not ogling Steve’s ass in his tight denim Levi’s through the rear view mirror. Biting on your lower lip, you clench your thighs together, coasting on promises of what’s to come back at home…in familiar beds, and…other places. Your brother starts to head up front as Steve climbs in beside you, your brother frowning when you don’t get out to give your seat to him as you normally had when the three of you were together. Brows creased, he hops in the back and buckles up. “Why is she staying in the front, man?”
Amused at his obvious confusion, Steve brings your entwined hands to his mouth, kissing each knuckle of yours. “Sorry, dude, but Y/N’s position has been upgraded to my shotgun rider.”
Your brother looks surprised, mumbling. “Do mom and dad know yet?”
You catch that glint in Steve’s eye. Oh, you have so much to tell everyone back in Hawkins.
Description: You've hated Steve Harrington since your sophomore year, and the feeling is very much mutual. Unfortunately, with you both working at Family Video, it was only a matter of time before you got stuck on a shift together. You'll just keep your distance, hopefully.
BEHOLD!! one of the longest fics i've ever written lol (a whopping 3.6K words bahaha) and it's just me fantasizing about hate sex with Steve Harrington,,, this is addressing a prompt I got forever ago!! so anon, even though i've lost your ask, i hope you enjoy the porn :)
Steve Harrington made your life hell in high school.
Okay, maybe not him specifically, but Tommy and Carol were fucking awful to you. Tommy making obscene comments in the hallway, Carol spilling her lunch down your shirt on purpose. Carol stealing your clothes in the locker room while Tommy stuck things to your locker.
It got to the point that you would fake sickness, change your classes, park your car across the street just to avoid them. And Steve would just… stand there. He would just stand there and stare, his eyes all wide and shocked, while his friends tormented you. Doing nothing.
So, since sophomore year, you have hated Steve Harrington. Even now, after high school, the sight of him still makes your heart pound angrily, makes your fists clench and your teeth grind together. Robin insists that he’s changed, that he’s “not the same as he was in high school, come on, you’ve got to give him a chance.” Bullshit.
And what makes it worse is that Steve doesn’t even try. Ever since you got your job at Family Video, mostly to work with Robin every day, Steve Harrington has been a fucking dick. Rolling his eyes when you tell a joke, scoffing at any of your tiny complaints about school, about your job, about the various dates you’ve tried to go on that always go up in flames. He just flips his hair, crosses his arms and makes you feel like a complete fucking idiot.
“I have no idea what’s going on with him,” Robin says, shoving a few more videos into the shelves. “I swear he’s not usually like this. It’s like, only when you have a shift.”
“It’s fine,” you mumble, though the tenseness in your shoulders tells Robin that it is absolutely not fine. “If Harrington wants to stay a dick, he can. Doesn’t bother me either way, y’know? He’s been like this for years.”
A loud clatter behind you causes you to shoot up, turning your head to see the man in question with a pile of videos clutched in his hands, his knuckles white and eyebrows furrowed. You both lock eyes, and it feels like his gaze is burning into your fucking soul. It’s probably only a moment, but it feels like you spend years just staring at each other, before Steve huffs and turns away, rushing behind the counter.
Robin watches the whole exchange from the floor. “Oh,” she whispers quietly to herself. Your gaze snaps back down to her.
“What?”
“Nothing, nothing,” she says, turning back to the videos, but you can tell that it is absolutely not nothing.
“What is it Robin?”
“Nothing! Look, it’s fine, okay?” she says, and you choose to just shut up about it, murmuring a quiet “okay, okay,” while you turn back to your stack of videos.
You allow yourself to get lost in the repetitive motion of filing the films away, lost to the world while you bury yourself in your thoughts. Still stuck on your strange interaction earlier, your thoughts somehow float to Steve fucking Harrington of all people. Images flutter through your mind of his pissed off little scowl, his dark eyes burning into yours, frustrated and angry. The little crease between his eyebrows, the clench of his fists. What is his fucking problem? You shove a video a little too aggressively into its slot. You want to punch him in the nose, take him down to his knees while he prays for your forgiveness. Begging for you. His dark, angry eyes looking up at you from between your thighs, those big hands clutching into your hips-
You stumble over your own feet, nearly face planting into the carpet. Where the fuck had that come from? Fantasizing about Steve Harrington? Jesus Christ, you need to get laid if you’re actually thinking about fucking Steve of all people. Even though he is somewhat attractive, maybe to a person who doesn’t know how much of a dick he is. Maybe someone could somewhat see how pullable and soft his hair is, how fucking tight his jeans are all the time, how big his hands are. How pretty he would look with those hands around your neck, slender hips between yours-
You can feel how red your cheeks are, trying to restock videos in the most casual way possible, trying to keep your mind blissfully blank. Anything but Harrington. Literally, anything.
Fortunately for your quickly spiraling mental state, Robin feels the need to break you out of your reverie.
“Shit, um, I forgot to tell you, I need to leave early today.” Robin says, sheepish, trying not to make eye contact while the floor drops out from under your feet. You have to hold yourself back from knocking the copy of Grease from her grip. You squat down to meet her eyes.
“You’re leaving me here? With him?” you hiss, glancing over to the register where Steve is helping out a customer; a pretty girl that Steve is leaning just a little too close to to be casual. Anger swims in your gut. The unprofessionalism in this guy.
Robin finally meets your eyes, her cheeks red. “I have a date? Uh, with Vickie.” she says, and when her cheeks are all red like that, and she seems just a little ashamed, you really can’t find it in yourself to scold her. “I’m sorry,” she says, and you force yourself to believe in her apology.
“Fine, it’s fine.” you mutter, crossing your arms. “Leaving me to deal with Harrington myself, I get it.”
“Look, maybe you guys could, I don’t know, talk? While I’m gone?” Robin says, standing. “I swear to God, walking in here is like walking into a war zone.”
“Not a chance, Buckley,” you chuckle, humorlessly, but Robin laughs back all the same. “But you have fun on your date, okay?”
“Oh, I will,” she giggles, and you finally laugh genuinely. Robin hugs you gently, whispering a quiet, “good luck,” before she runs to the back to grab her backpack, and then she’s gone. Leaving you to the wolves. Or, wolf. Steve Harrington. You resolve yourself to just avoiding him, staying silent and doing your job until you can finally leave. But, in a tiny store like Family Video, keeping your distance proves quickly to be incredibly difficult. Against your will, you end up behind the counter next to Steve, trying to clean up as fast as possible.
“Excuse me, Harrington,” you mutter, bumping yourself in front of Steve’s tall body to wipe down the shelves behind the counter.
Steve jumps back like you’ve struck him, but you try to ignore it, bending further to reach the back of the shelf. You reach behind you to pull your skirt down, suddenly horribly conscious of the shortness of it.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” you hear Steve mutter, and that is it. You’re just trying to do your fucking job, and somehow he has a problem with you doing that? You straighten up and whip around to face him, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. Odd, because last you checked, Steve is taller than you. What the fuck was he looking at?
“What the fuck is your problem, Harrington?” you say, stepping toward him.
“My problem?” Steve asks, incredulous and completely fucking patronizing. “You’re asking what my problem is?”
“Yes! What is it? Because it’s like I can’t do anything right around you. Anything I do, or say, fucking think is met with, with-“
“Oh Christ,” your fists clench at Steve’s interruption. “Ever since I’ve met you, you’ve been the most uptight fucking brat I’ve ever met. Not to mention-“
“Oh fuck you, Steve.”
“Not to mention the fact that you are so caught up in who I was in fucking high school, going on and on to Robin about how much of a dick I was in school, as if people in your little world can’t change. That’s how judgemental you are, you can’t fucking let go.” Steve steps toward you, his tall body feeling like he’s looming over you.
“Let go? You and your little friends made my life a living hell. I dreaded going to school every day. And you want me to let it go?”
“It wasn’t even me doing that to you. It was Carol and Tommy-“
You poke a finger into his chest. “You just stood by-“
“I’ve tried to fucking apologize to you, but you won’t let me-“
“You’ve tried? Am I really supposed to believe that?” Steve’s angry breaths are fanning over your face, smelling like gum and cigarettes. You can see little gold flecks in his brown eyes.
“I fucking have, and you know it.” You’re both too close, too fucking close.
“Do I?”
You don’t know who moves first. Probably Steve, the impulsive asshole that he is.
Maybe it was you.
But suddenly Steve’s strong hands are gripping your jaw, your hands are winding into his soft hair, pressing yourself into him. All you know is that Steve’s lips are soft, overwhelming against yours even as your teeth clack together painfully. The kiss is wretched and messy, but Steve just presses himself in further, licking up against your teeth and forcing you to open up to him. His tongue presses against yours, slick and wet and warm. He feels so big against you, and it’s so good that it takes a moment for you to realize that you’re still kissing Steve Harrington.
You force yourself to break away, your cheeks flaming. Steve stares at you with his dark eyes, looking about as shocked as you feel with his flushed cheeks.
“I- fuck, what was that? What, what the fuck? I-“ you stumble over your words, but Steve swoops down again to lick into your mouth. You moan lightly at the taste of him, grasping onto his shoulders, and it just feels too good to pull away.
“Shut up,” Steve breathes into your mouth. “For once, just,” Steve kisses you again, almost like he’s fucking starving for it. “Shut up.”
“Make me, Harrington,” you whisper.
Steve kisses you again, harsh and unforgiving, and you gasp as his hands grip your hips, so strong that you know he’s going to leave pretty marks. Like you’re his. Your nails dig into his back as his lips leave yours, instead traveling to your throat, biting harshly, while one of his hands drifts under your skirt, playing with your throbbing clit through your panties. You can feel how soaked you are, how the wetness of your pussy is making your thighs slick and your cunt clench.
“Steve, Steve, fuck,” you whisper. Steve grunts softly into your neck, his fingers sneaking under your panties to run through your sticky wet slit, running just over your entrance.
“So fucking wet, baby,” Steve mumbles. “This all for me? You like getting me mad? Does it get you hot, babe? Make this little pussy so fucking wet?” You want to reply, a snarky comment on the tip of your tongue, but one of Steve’s long fingers is dipping into you, and it takes all of your energy just to make sure your fucking knees don’t give out. “Bet that’s why you’re such a brat all the time. Fiery little thing; you just needed to get fucked?” And his finger is suddenly moving inside you, stretching your sensitive walls.
“Oh god, Steve-” you whine, but he cuts you off again by adding another finger, jamming it inside you alongside the first. The hand he had on your hip travels around your back, holding your weak body upright.
“You look so pretty like this. You’re always such a pretty thing, aren’t you?” Your cheeks burn with the embarrassment of being so placid and submissive under Steve’s touch, but when his fingers tease at a sensitive spot so fucking deep inside, pressing harder than you can with his long fingers, you can’t bring yourself to care. And Steve just looks so pretty, his dark eyes blown wide and hair hanging in his face, and you hate that he’s so pretty. You hate how his fingers feel so fucking good.
You hate how desperate you are for his cock, the thick bulge in his jeans pressing against your thigh.
You grip his wrist, somehow finding the strength within yourself to pull his fingers out of you. You turn around, away from him to bend yourself over the counter, flipping the back of your skirt up in a clear invitation.
“Jesus Christ, baby, you want my dick that bad?” Steve grunts behind you, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.
“Like you don’t want my pussy just as bad, Harrington. Why don’t you follow your own advice, shut the fuck up, and fuck me?” You chuckle lightly at Steve's responding groan, and suddenly hear the tell-tale sound of a belt coming undone and a zipper being pulled down.
Steve’s cock is throbbing and sticky, needy for your pussy after fingering you. If Steve’s honest with himself, he’s been half hard since you walked in for your shift, just like he always is. But Steve would rather die than tell you that now. Maybe he’ll tell you after you agree to go on a date with him.
But that’s the least of his worries. Because right now, your pretty little pussy is right in front of him, covered just barely by your soaked panties, and you’re asking him to fuck you. Steve can’t decide if he’s dreaming or not. He really doesn’t want to wake up either way.
A high pitched whine escapes your throat when Steve pulls your panties to the side and you feel the thick head of his cock swipe through your sticky folds, far bigger than what you anticipated. It’s fucking intoxicating. You wiggle your hips back, desperate, and whisper out a desperate “please” as he finally notches himself against your entrance.
You don’t have to tell him twice, because Steve is suddenly sinking his cock into you. Slowly, so fucking slowly. Too fucking slow.
“Harrington, do you always fuck women like a 90 year old man? I thought you were a ladies man, I mean really, what happened to King Ste-”
Steve doesn’t let you finish your sentence as he grits his teeth and shoves his cock into your aching pussy, and clenches his eyes shut at the sound of your squeal, a choked moan escaping his throat as your hot cunt grips him so fucking tight.
Your fingers grip at the edge of the counter, as Steve forces his fat cock into you. The stretch burns, it burns, but it’s so good, fuck, it’s like you can feel it in your lungs. And then he moves, dragging himself out so slow you can feel every vein dragging against your walls before shoving back in again. Your bent hips are pressed against the counter while Steve has his big hands gripping your waist.
“Jesus, baby, so fucking tight for me,” he grunts, and he sounds wrecked. “Taking me in like a good little slut.”
“Steve, Steve, oh god, Steve.” You chant his name like a prayer, your voice weak and airy, legs trembling. Your pussy clenches at his words, and you lower your forehead against the cool material of the counter as you hear Steve chuckle breathlessly, obviously feeling your reaction.
“You like that, baby? Like being called a slut? Fuck, you do. You love being my fucking slut don’t you?” Steve snaps his hips forward harshly through his words, watching your ass shake under the force. Little whines are punched out of your throat with every thrust, and you just sound so pretty that Steve can’t help but bring a hand up to run it comfortingly down your spine. “Little brat, coming in here in these tiny little skirts, riling me up with your little comments. You’ve been so bad, baby, so bad to me. Just needed to be put in your place, right?”
Little tears are starting to leak from your eyes as Steve’s unforgiving thrusts into your squelching pussy, his fat cock rubbing deep into you. You jerk hard as Steve slaps a hand over your ass, the sound echoing throughout the empty store.
“I asked you a fucking question sweetheart,” Steve grunts.
You force words to come out of your throat. “Yes, yes, oh god, Steve, I needed to be put in my place, fuck. Needed, needed you to fuck me Steve, oh-” You glance forward through bleary eyes and see the parking lot just outside the window, still blissfully empty, but the shock of what you’re doing rings through you. Anyone could see you right now. Anyone could walk through those doors and see Steve Harrington fucking you like a bitch.
Your pussy throbs almost painfully, your stomach clenching, and you know, oh God, you know-
But Steve does stop, and you cry out in despair as he slips out of you, his strong hands flipping you around so that you can see his flushed and sweaty face. He’s so beautiful that you could nearly pass out. Maybe you will. Steve brings a hand up to wipe a tear off your face, shushing you gently.
“Sorry baby, I just, I gotta see your face when you cum. Gotta see how fucking pretty you look.” He hitches one of your thighs up onto his hip, keeping you spread open for him, and sinks his cock back into you through his words. Your eyes roll back again at the feeling, and you barely have a moment to catch your breath before he’s pounding up into you. He forces you to take his cock all over again, and the knot in your stomach is back with a fucking vengeance.
With no counter to grip onto, your arms wrap around Steve’s shoulders, bringing him down just enough to kiss him again. He groans into your mouth, and you whine back, the both of you tangled together like you’re made for each other. You kind of hope you are.
You break your lips from his, looking up into his dark eyes as you gasp, “Gonna cum, Steve. Oh fuck, you’re gonna, you’re gonna make me cum.”
“Go ahead and cum, baby,” Steve whispers, so intimate you nearly cry harder. “Show me how pretty you look when you cum on my cock.”
Your vision whites out for a moment, your mouth gaping open in a silent scream as you clench and gush around Steve’s fat cock, still pounding relentlessly into you.
“Jesus fuck, sweetheart,” Steve whimpers, “so, fuck, so pretty.”
You gaze up at him with teary eyes, your thighs still trembling, and run a hand through his hair. “Go ahead and cum inside me, Steve. I want, shit, I want you to own me.”
You watch his eyes go wide, before his mouth drops open and his hips stutter, his thick cock throbbing inside you while he floods your sticky cunt with his cum. You hear him whispering softly, barely able to make out his little mutters of “mine, all mine,” while he comes down from his orgasm.
It takes a while for you both to stop shaking, but when you finally breathe normally again, you keep Steve pressed close. He gazes at you, eyes soft as he whispers, “For what it’s worth, I’m- I’m sorry. I know it’s too late, but I am.”
You smile at him softly. You know what he’s like, maybe you always have. Steve Harrington, as horrible as he was in high school, has changed. He’s changed into a wonderful, kind, caring man. So far from the ‘King Steve’ you once knew. You trace a gentle hand down his jaw.
“I know, Steve,” you whisper.
“But do you? I mean, I was awful to you, and I understand if maybe this was just, like, a heat of the moment thing, or whatever. I mean, I can quit if this will make you uncomfortable, knowing that I-”
“Steve,” you answer, cutting him out of his panicked rambling. “I forgive you, okay? I think… I think I forgave you a while ago. Maybe I just hadn’t realized it yet. But I do. I forgive you, Steve.”
“But-”
“I forgive you, Steve Harrington. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. For how I’ve treated you. And… And I know that we may have done this a little backwards, but I love to go on a date with you, Steve. If you wanted, y’know.”
Steve stares at you, shocked, and you open your mouth again to take it back, maybe tell him that you both can be friends, even if it’s not what you want.
But then Steve is swooping down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss, chaste and warm, and it feels like your heart is going to beat out of its chest.
“I wanna take you out so bad, sweetheart. God, I’ll treat you so good, just watch baby, I’ll-”
You giggle at him softly, pecking him on the lips again, just to feel him. And to shut him up, just maybe. It’s like you can stay in this moment forever, kissing a blushing Steve Harrington.
The sound of an approaching car roars from outside, and it’s suddenly horribly apparent that Steve’s soft cock is still inside you, your leg still hitched up onto his hip. You push him away just as he backs up, rushing to stuff his sticky cock back into his pants. He kicks his discarded belt under the counter while you pull your panties up, trying not to think too hard about the strange feeling of Steve’s cum leaking out of your gaping pussy.
The bell dings as someone walks in, and you both whip around, hoping that you look a bit more put together than you feel. You quickly try to pretend to wipe down the counters, just like earlier, but as Steve walks around you to greet the customer, he squeezes the fat of your ass, making you gasp.
You look up to meet his pretty eyes, his puffy, used lips smirking at you knowingly, wiggling his eyebrows. You giggle at him softly. Okay, maybe Steve Harrington is a dick. But maybe, just maybe, that’s not so bad.
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