steve distracting his girl when she’s studying by fingering her <3
your apartment is quiet except for the scratch of your pencil and the occasional flip of a textbook page. you’re hunched over the coffee table, highlighters scattered like casualties, post-its bleeding neon across every margin. finals are in forty-eight hours and the words on the page have started swimming together into meaningless shapes. you barely register steve letting himself in with the spare key, the soft click of the door, his sneakers padding across the floor.
he doesn’t say anything at first, just drops onto the couch behind you, long legs spreading, one arm slung over the backrest so he can watch. you feel his gaze immediately, warm and patient and a little too heavy, but you force your eyes back to the diagram of some stupid cycle you have to memorize.
“baby,” he finally murmurs, “you’ve been staring at the same thing for ten minutes.”
“mhm,” you mumble without looking up. “gotta memorize this”
steve hums. the couch creaks as he shifts closer, then his warmth is right at your back, knees bracketing yours from behind, chest brushing your shoulder blades. you try to keep reading. you really do.
his right hand slides slowly down your arm, fingers threading loosely with yours for a second before they keep traveling, over your wrist, along your ribs, under the hem of your oversized hoodie. he palms your stomach, thumb stroking lazy circles just below your navel.
“steve!” you warn, half-hearted. “i’m serious. i have to-”
“i know, sweetheart. you’re working so hard.” his lips brush the shell of your ear, “my smart girl. always so focused.”
his left hand joins the first, pushing your thighs apart just enough to make room. you suck in a breath when his fingers find the elastic of your shorts and slip beneath without hesitation.
“stevee!”
“shhh. keep reading.” he presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “don’t let me distract you.”
you try. god, you try. but then two long fingers slide through your folds, slowly testing, and your whole body locks up. you’re already embarrassingly wet. he makes a pleased little sound against your skin when he feels it.
“jesus,” he breathes, “this wet huh baby? that’s cute.”
your pencil trembles. the words blur worse.
he doesn’t rush. he never does when he wants to take you apart slowly. those two fingers circle your clit once, twice, light enough to tease, firm enough to make your hips twitch, then sink inside, easy and deep, curling on the way in like he’s memorizing every inch.
your breath hitches loud enough that you clamp your lips shut.
“ohhh there she is,” he murmurs. he starts a slow, steady rhythm, long drags out, deliberate push back in, fingertips hooking against that spot that makes your thighs shake. “look at you, trying so hard to be good huh”
you whimper, forehead dropping toward the open book. the page is swimming now; none of it makes sense.
“eyes up, honey,” he says gently, “you’re supposed to be studying. can’t have you failing because you’re too dumb and drunk off my fingers to read, right?”
the words make your eyes twitch. your cunt clenches hard around his fingers, he groans low in his throat.
“fuck, you like that,” he chuckles. “like it when i talk to you like you’re my stupid little baby who can’t think straight anymore hmm?” he presses deeper, grinds the heel of his palm against your clit on every thrust. “that’s okay. i’ve got you,”
your hips rock forward involuntarily. a broken moan slips out and you bite your lip so hard it stings.
“uh-uh.” his free hand comes up, gentle but firm, tilting your chin until you’re forced to meet his eyes in the reflection of the dark tv screen across the room. he’s watching you like you’re the only thing that exists, mouth parted, looking so in love yet so filthy at the same time.
“eyes on me, baby,” he says softly. “let me see exactly what m’doing to you.”
you can’t look away. his gaze pins you in place while his fingers keep that devastating rhythm faster now, curling harder, the wet sound of it echoing in the quiet apartment. your thighs tremble, your breathing turns ragged, little gasps every time he hits that spot just right.
“stevee pl-ah! p-please”
“please what, sweetheart?” his voice is velvet. “please let you cum? or please stop so you can study?” he curls again. “because we both know y’can’t read a single fuckin’ word right now.”
a sob catches in your throat. your pencil clatters to the table. both hands fly back to grip his forearms, nails digging in.
“that’s it,” he praises, lips brushing your temple. “let go for me. y’can do it, c’mon baby.”
he doesn’t let up, fingers pumping faster, palm grinding relentless circles on your clit, eyes never leaving yours in the reflection. your whole body locks up, back arching, mouth falling open on a broken, helpless moan as your orgasm rips through you.
he works you through it, slow and deep, murmuring sweet filthy things against your ear the whole time.
“good girllll that’s my girl… look how pretty you are.. so fucking perfect for me…”
when you finally manage to come down from your orgasm, you’re slumped back against his chest, panting, legs shaking, brain completely offline. the textbook sits forgotten, pages ruffled from where your elbow knocked it.
steve kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth.
“feel better?” he asks, you manage a weak, dazed nod.
he chuckles, nuzzling into your neck. “good, now take a break. i say you don’t touch that book again t’night”
his fingers are still inside you, giving one last slow, lazy curl that makes you whimper.
“gonna keep you nice and full while you rest,” he whispers, voice dripping honey and sin. “can’t have my girl getting all stressed again, can we?”
You barely made it through the door before Steve was on you. He just couldn't help himself!
The two of you had been out with Robin, Nancy and Johnathan for drinks when he had gotten worked up. He was not at all handsy... Only a little. Okay, maybe more than a little. But, still! You had been all dolled up and after the first few rounds of drinks, Steve couldn't help but show his appreciation.
Now, you had collapsed backwards onto his bed with a groan, Steve landing ontop of you instantly. Articles of clothing littered the floor leading up to the mattress from where he had been too restless to wait.
You were both down to your underwear and he had already begun mouthing at your breasts, sucking and kissing the sensitive skin until your nipples peaked. A loud moan toar out of you before you could stop it. Steve had been like this only a handful of times, so when it hit, it hit hard.
The house was empty except for the sound of the bed rocking, the constant stream of ever increasing moans and the sloppy noises made by Steve's mouth. Handsy didn't even begin to cover it anymore. He had shifted you up onto his pillows so that his chest was above your aching cunt and his mouth was straining to nip and tug at your delicate tit's.
"Steve–Oh fuck, Steve!" You mewled, your hands scrambling to pull at the sheets in hopes of anchoring yourself.
"Yeah, Sweatheart? What do you need? Come on, use your words..." Steve replied, his voice already dipping into that rough register that made you shiver in anticipation.
"Harder, Steve! Please, fuck me!" You moaned, begging him to continue.
While you struggled for a grip, Steve had slowly trailed downwards, still leading sloppy kisses down the valley on your breast and down the soft skin of your stomach. You were acutely aware of the growing hardness pressed against one of your calves. He was grinding up and down, the thick, hot heat of him seeping through his underwear and into your skin. You could feel his cock throb with his heartbeat and it had already begun weeping at the tip.
Steve abruptly hoisted you up so that your legs hung over the broad expanse of his shoulders. His kisses had ended just at the edge of your panties, which he had started shimmying down your thighs with the speed of a desperate man. You tilted your hips so that he could remove the soaked material more quickly.
He imideatly dipped down, licking a long stripe from hole to clit. You screamed at the sudden sensation and squeezed harder at the thin fabric twisted in your fists. It was doing little to help but it was all that tethered you for the moment.
Steve groaned into your cunt, the action so reverent you sobbed out his name over and over, praying he wouldn't leave you before you hit your peak.
"Fffuck!" You wailed, eyes filling with tears of pleasure. "Steve! Pleasepleaseplease! M' so close–Stevie!"
"Oh, baby, I know..."He murmured in equal pleasure, his fingers digging tighter into the meaty expanse of your thighs. Bruises would no doubt bloom later like flowers: a reminder of this passionate night. "You can do it, baby. Give it to me, you're doing such a good job, sweetie."
The praise itself was almost enough to tip you over the edge. You desperately thrust upwards, letting out frustrated moans anytime he held you down by the hips, the soft but final weight of him steadying you for the moment. It was then that he licked again. What had been kitten licks had evolved to be broad strokes of his tongue that entered you on every thrust.
Your toes curled as you felt your release quickly approaching.
"M' cumming! Steve! Fuck, I'm gonna come!"
The orgasm hit you like a freight train, stars bursting behind your eyes as your thighs pressed instantly into his neck and your hands plunged into the dark, coarse hair on his head.
You tugged over and over, pushing his face further down into your cunt, desperate for that feeling to continue for as long as possible. The second you had started, Steve's motions had stuttered, momentarily losing pace before increasing tenfold. The moan he let out into your cunt was breathy and loud, nothing like the usual sounds he made.
No, this was new.
This was the sound of a man coming home. Well, coming at the very least. Because yes, Steve had actually come in his underwear. The poor thing hadn't even taken them off. Even in the dim light, you could see the darkness forming at the front as he adjusted his position.
Your hands were still deep in his locks and he was diving back down before you had time to react. His tongue went back to your cunt like a man on a mission, pumping in and out of you with a newfound determination.
"Jesus, fuck. Do that again." Steve moaned into you, his hands snaking up to hold your waist down.
You obliged tugging and forcing him further into your slick folds. Your body was still coming down from it's first high, with the second quickly approaching. Steve may not be the smartest but if there was one thing he knew how to do it was how to eat a girl out.
The sensation of your nails grazing his scalp was more than enough pleasure for Steve. It sent pleasant tingles down his spine in a way he had never experienced before. Yeah, chick's had pulled his hair before but never like this. Never to the point he was coming in his pants like a virgin. Just as Steve knew your body, it seemed you knew his just as well. The warmth of your hands felt as if it was seeping into his skull, turning his brain to mush. The only thought remaining was to get you to make those sweet sounds one more time.
Your second release was brought on without warning. There was no time to tell Steve and any sort of explanation turned into a strangled cry as your legs squeezed shut around his ears once more and he had to pry you off with his thick forearms. The scent of you filled his nose and he shamlessly licked and sucked at your abused cunt, not wanting to waste any of your sweat nectar.
By the time you were overstimulated and shaking, Steve was sweating enough that his whole body was coated in a thin layer of sheen and the smell of sex flooded the room.
You shakily tugged him up with weak hands, ignoring his instantaneous groan of delight. You brought him up to your face. God, he was a mess. Pupils blown wide, panting with his whole body, lips and chin covered in slick cum and drool- an unholy mixture that he wore so well.
He lunged forward, surging up to give you a ravenous kiss that took your breath away. Steve was now fully onto of you and his cock was pressed right against your needy hole.
⋆˚✿˖°summary: all you wanted was to study for your biology exam tomorrow, but what happens when you hear a knock on your window? or the one where your boyfriend steve helps you to study for your upcoming exam in a very interesting way.
⋆˚✿˖° word count: 2.5k
⋆˚✿˖° warnings: porn with a very little plot, fluff, my attempt at writing very poor biology stuff while being a mechanical engineer, fingering, p in v (wrap it up hoes), riding, sneaking in. yeah that's pretty much it.
⋆˚✿˖° Author's Note: credits to @angeliicide for this beautiful divider <33. this is loosely inspired by that one S1 scene where sneaks into Nancy's room through her window and my favourite childhood movie.
The moon hung fat and silver over Hawkins,long shadows from the oak tree stretching across the grass. It was past midnight as the moonlight grazed over the pile of textbooks and scattered notes on your desk. You were neck-deep in biology, highlighter in hand, trying to memorize for tomorrow's exam. Your hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and you'd changed into your comfiest oversized tee and shorts after school, the fabric soft against your skin from too many washes. You looked up from your textbook as you stared at the photo sticked loosely on the wall behind your bed.
Steve Harrington was your boyfriend-had been for almost a year now, ever since that rainy night at the arcade when he'd ditched his king-of-the-school act and shown up with scoops of ice cream and an apology for being such an idiot before. He wasn't perfect; the scars on his side from demodogs and his occasional overprotectiveness could grate on you. But God, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing grounding him in this weird little town made it all worth it. You'd fallen into this easy rhythm, stolen kisses in the Baemer's backseat, late-night drives to Lover's Lake, and him crashing at your place when his parents were fighting again. Tonight, though, you needed space. Or at least, that's what you'd told him when he called earlier, voice all soft and teasing over the line: "Study hard, babe. I'll behave."
You snorted to yourself, flipping a page. Behave. As if Steve Harrington knew the meaning of the word.
A soft thump against the windowpane jolted you from your notes. You glanced up, heart skipping in that half thrilled, half annoyed way. There he was, all tousled hair and that lopsided grin, balanced precariously on the branch of the old oak tree that hugged the side of your house. His polo was untucked, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and those brown eyes sparkled with mischief as he tapped the glass again, mouthing open up.
With a dramatic eye-roll that he could probably see from ten feet away, you pushed back from your bed and crossed the room. The window creaked as you unlatched it, cool evening air rushing in along with the scent of his cologne-something woodsy and warm, mixed with the faint chlorine from the pool where he'd been lifeguarding all summer.
"Jesus, Steve," you whispered, helping him clamber through without toppling the whole setup. His hands found your waist immediately, steadying himself as his boots hit the carpet. "My mom's downstairs. What if she hears?"
He straightened up, all six-foot-something of him filling the space, and leaned in to press a quick kiss to your forehead. "Then we'd better be quiet." His voice was low, playful, but there was that edge to it, as if he'd been thinking about you all day. You could feel it in the way his thumbs brushed circles against your hips, lingering just a second too long.
You swatted his chest lightly, stepping back toward your desk. "I'm serious. I've got this exam, and if I bomb it, my dad's gonna kill me. Biology waits for no horny boyfriend."
Steve chuckled, that deep, rumbling sound that always made your stomach flip. He ruffled his hair, glancing around your room like he was seeing it for the first time-the posters of The Police and Bowie on the walls, the half-dead plant on your nightstand that you'd sworn you'd revive someday. "Horny? Me? Nah, I'm just here to... moral support." But his eyes dipped to your legs, bare and crossed casually as you perched on the edge of your bed, and you knew better. He was already shifting his weight, that subtle tell where he'd rock forward on his toes when he wanted to close the distance.
"Uh-huh." You picked up your highlighter again, settling back at the desk and flipping open your textbook. "Sit. Behave. Or go home and jack off to your Sports Illustrated stash. Whatever works."
"Ouch." He clutched his heart, feigning offense, but he dropped onto the foot of your bed anyway, knees bumping the desk frame. For a minute, he was quiet, uncharacteristically so, watching you scribble notes, his fingers drumming a lazy rhythm on his thigh. You could feel his gaze, heavy and warm. It made focusing harder than it should have been; every time you glanced up, he'd flash that smile, the one with the dimples that promised trouble.
Minutes ticked by. The clock on your wall read 10:30 PM. Your mom called up faintly about dinner, and you yelled back that you'd eat later. Steve stayed silent, but you caught him out of the corner of your eye, stretching his arms behind his head, shirt riding up just enough to show a sliver of tanned stomach. Asshole. He knew exactly what he was doing.
Finally, he sighed,long and exaggerated, like a puppy denied a walk. "Babe."
You didn't look up. "Study."
"Baaaabe." His voice dropped an octave, all whine and want. The bed creaked as he scooted closer, one hand landing warm on your knee under the desk. "You've been at this for hours. Take a break. With me."
Your pen paused mid-sentence. His touch was light, but it sent a spark up your leg, familiar heat pooling low in your belly. "Steve. We have an exam tomorrow. Remember?"
He hummed, thumb tracing lazy patterns on your skin, inching higher. "I remember. But I also remember how you aced that history test after I quizzed you in the car last month. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?"
You bit your lip, fighting a smile. He wasn't wrong; Steve had this way of turning everything into a game, making the mundane fun. But tonight? Your brain felt like mush, and his proximity was making it worse. "Fine. Quiz me. But hands to yourself, Harrington. Deal?"
His grin turned wolfish, eyes darkening as he leaned in, elbows on his knees. "Deal. Hit me with a question."
You cleared your throat, forcing your eyes back to the page. "Okay. What's the primary function of mitochondria?"
"Powerhouses of the cell. They make ATP through cellular respiration." He rattled it off like he'd been paying attention in class for once, which you knew was bullshit-he'd probably overheard you ranting about it last week.
"Show-off." You marked it off, but his hand hadn't moved from your knee. If anything, it slid higher, fingers splaying across your thigh. "Steve-"
"What? I'm helping." His tone was innocent, but the way he watched your reaction, waiting for that hitch in your breath, was anything but. You shifted in your chair, thighs pressing together instinctively. The room felt warmer, the air thicker.
"Fine. Next one." You tried to sound stern, flipping pages. "Describe the process of photosynthesis. In detail."
He launched into it-chloroplasts, light-dependent reactions, the Calvin cycle, like a pro, his voice steady and low. But all the while, his hand crept upward, fingertips brushing the hem of your shorts. You swallowed hard, highlighter trembling slightly. "Good. Uh... electron transport chain?"
"Starts in the inner mitochondrial membrane," he murmured, closer now, his breath ghosting your ear as he leaned over your shoulder. "Electrons from NADH and FADH2 pass through protein complexes, pumping protons to create a gradient..." His free hand braced on the desk, caging you in, while the other dipped beneath the fabric of your shorts, tracing the edge of your panties. Your breath caught, a soft gasp escaping before you could stop it.
"Steve," you warned, but it came out breathy, lacking conviction. Your body betrayed you, hips tilting just a fraction toward his touch.
He paused, fingers hovering, that teasing glint in his eye. "You stopped. What's next, baby? Glycolysis? Pyruvate decarboxylation?" His voice was velvet, rough around the edges, and when his fingers finally slipped under the cotton barrier, brushing lightly against your folds, you nearly dropped the pen.
"You're ah!-cheating," you managed, but your free hand gripped the bed edge, knuckles whitening. He was already slick with your arousal, parting you gently, one finger circling your clit with agonizing slowness.
"Am I?" He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, open-mouthed and hot through your shirt. "Tell me about ATP synthase. How's it work?" His finger dipped lower, sliding inside you with ease, curling just right. You clenched around him, a whimper building in your throat.
"Steve, I- I can't..." Your head fell back against his chest, textbook forgotten. He added a second finger, thrusting lazily, his thumb taking over on your clit. The stretch was perfect, familiar, but the way he held you there-teasing, controlled,had your pulse thundering.
"Nuh-uh, baby," he murmured, nipping at your earlobe. "Carry on. What's the role of oxygen in the electron transport chain?" His fingers pumped deeper, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. You rocked against his hand, chasing the friction, but he slowed, just enough to keep you on the edge.
"It's... it's the final electron acceptor," you gasped, words tumbling out in fragments. "Forms water with protons and electrons. Steve, please-"
"Good girl." The praise washed over you, warm and filthy, his free hand sliding up your shirt to cup your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple through your bra. "One more. Krebs cycle intermediates. Name 'em."
You were a mess now, thighs trembling, notes blurring as heat coiled tight in your core. "Citrate... isocitrate... alpha-ketoglutarate... fuck, Steve, I can't-"
His chuckle vibrated against your neck, fingers twisting inside you, thumb pressing harder. "You can, Keep going."
The words dissolved into a moan as your orgasm crested, crashing over you in waves. You clamped down on his fingers, back arching, his name a broken chant on your lips. He worked you through it, murmuring encouragements—"That's it, baby, so pretty when you come"—until you slumped forward, boneless and panting.
He withdrew slowly, bringing his fingers to his lips with a smirk that made your cheeks burn. "See? Aced it." But his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and the bulge in his jeans was impossible to ignore. He was hard, aching for you, and the way he adjusted himself said he'd been holding back the whole time.
You turned in the chair, grabbing his wrist before he could pull away. "Your turn to behave," you teased, voice husky, but there was no real bite to it. Adrenaline still buzzed under your skin, and the sight of him-flushed, hair mussed, lips shiny from tasting you had want surging back tenfold.
Steve's grin softened into something tender, his hands framing your face as he pulled you up to standing. " he muttered, backing you towards the edge of your bed, mouths crashing together in a kiss that tasted like salt and need. Tongues tangled, messy and desperate, and you tugged at his shirt, yanking it over his head. His skin was warm under your palms, muscles flexing as you traced the faint scars across his ribs-reminders of battles fought, survived, together.
He broke the kiss only to strip off your tee, bra following in a heap on the floor. "God, you're beautiful," he breathed, eyes raking over you like you were a miracle. It wasn't just lust; there was reverence there, the kind that made your chest ache. Steve had seen too much ugliness in Hawkins-monsters, betrayal, loss, and you were his soft place, his reason to laugh on the bad days.
You pushed him down onto the bed, straddling his hips as his hands settled on your waist. The mattress dipped under his weight, springs creaking softly. "My turn to quiz you," you whispered, grinding down against the hard line of him straining through his jeans. He groaned, head tipping back, Adam's apple bobbing.
"Anything," he promised, voice wrecked. "Ask me."
But words failed as you popped the button on his jeans, tugging them down with his help. His boxers followed, and there he was-thick and heavy, curving up toward his stomach, tip glistening. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slow and firm, thumb swiping over the head. Steve hissed, hips bucking, one hand fisting the sheets.
"Fuck, baby-"
You leaned down, kissing him deep, swallowing his moans as you positioned yourself. The head of him nudged your entrance, still slick from before, and you sank down inch by inch, both of you gasping at the stretch. He filled you perfectly, every ridge and vein dragging against your walls, and when you bottomed out, seated fully with him buried deep, the world narrowed to just this: his hands on your hips, your nails digging into his chest, the shared rhythm of your breaths.
"Ride me," he urged, voice gravelly, but his eyes searched yours-checking in, always, even in the haze of lust. You nodded, rolling your hips experimentally, and the friction sent sparks up your spine. He was so deep like this, hitting spots that made your toes curl.
You set a pace, slow at first, savoring the way he watched you-lips parted, brows furrowed in bliss. "Tell me... how's this for studying?" you panted, lifting and dropping, the wet sounds of skin on skin filling the room.
"Best... fucking lesson," he growled, thrusting up to meet you, hands guiding but not controlling. It was give and take, the way your relationship was-him letting you lead when you needed to feel in charge, you melting under his strength when the world got too heavy.
Faster now, the coil building again, your movements turning erratic. Steve sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist, the other hand tangling in your hair as he captured your mouth. It was filthy, all teeth and tongue, his hips snapping up hard enough to jolt you. "Come for me again," he murmured against your lips. "Wanna feel you squeeze me, baby. Please."
The plea undid you. You shattered around him, clenching tight, vision whiting out as pleasure ripped through you. Steve followed seconds later, groaning low and guttural, spilling hot inside you with a final, deep thrust. His forehead pressed to yours, breaths mingling, bodies slick and trembling.
For a long moment, neither of you moved. His hands roamed your back, soothing strokes that grounded you, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the salt of his skin. "Think I passed?" you mumbled, half-asleep already, the exam a distant worry.
Steve laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. "With flying colors." He shifted, easing you both down onto the pillows without pulling out yet, content to stay connected. "But if you want, I'll quiz you again tomorrow. No fingers next time. Scout's honor."
You swatted his shoulder, but there was no heat in it. Outside, the sun had dipped below the horizon, stars pricking the sky like promises. Right now, it was just you and Steve, tangled in sheets and each other, the room filled with the scent of vanilla and sex.
The exam was a blur-pencils scratching, questions flowing easy. You walked out feeling light, spotting Steve waiting by the Beamer, a bouquet of daisies in his hand.
"How'd it go?" He pulled you close, ignoring the stares from underclassmen.
"A." You kissed him, long and unhurried. "Thanks to my tutor."
He grinned, opening the door. "Ice cream to celebrate?"
"Always."
i hope you guys loved reading this story and if you did, please like and reblog it. thank you so much for reading it ♡
Steve Harrington fucked you so hard that the bed broke.
x fem!reader, SMUT! mdni
quick blurb, because he literally cannot leave my mind
english is not my first language, be nice to me please ;p
dividers by angeliicide
You knew that Steve wanted to fuck you since the day he met you. He wasn't exactly subtle about it, pants getting tighter every time you wore a riskier outfit, eyes not leaving your body for even a second while imagining all the positions he could put you in.
But you didn't expect his eagerness would end up in your bed getting broken, snapping under the weight of him pushing into you.
It started slow, intimate, fingers intertwined beside your head. It was divine, with him praising you, worshiping your body with his mouth, his whole being like life depended on it.
Steve was taking care of you like no one ever did before, making you arch into him, boobs squeezing into his chest as you moaned nonsense, too drunk on him and his cock to even care.
Steve loved it–and that made him lose it.
His strokes became harder, deeper, reaching new places and making you speechless with all the pleasure he was giving you. Your body moved with him, eyes rolling back at the perfect friction.
"Jesus, baby, you're so good. So good to me." he panted, breath ragged as he plunged into you.
With his name on your tongue, you came hard, shivers running down your spine in the most delicious way. You squeezed around him, prolonging that feeling as much as possible, and when he felt it, he went dumb.
Steve was fucking into you like he never wanted to stop, cock twitching as his own release approached.
So just as he started to whine above you, a loud crack echoed through the room. Warm liquid spilled into you, and your bodies slumped on the mattress slightly when the wooden boards split under it.
"Did you just..." you muttered in disbelief, but smiled widely after processing the situation.
Steve Harrington fucked you so hard that the bed broke.
"I'm sorry." a quiet laugh escaped him, little embarrassed but still clearly proud of himself for what he did. "I promise I'll get it fixed, or buy you a new one if that's what you want."
You beamed at him, arms wrapping around his neck and bringing him closer to your face. His cheeks were still red, hair tousled, messy from all the times your fingers ran through them. So handsome.
"Now we can't fuck on my bed again." you teased, looking up at him innocently.
But he just smirked and leaned to whisper against your ear, lips softly touching the skin there.
"It's fine." his hand came up to graze your hardening nipple, the intimacy of his actions making you wet again. "I'll just bend you over the desk. See how long it takes to break that."
I made this Steve Harrington edit for my tiktok (ashe.edits28) and I was curious if anyone would be interested in a short fic or oneshot with these summer fling vibes??
— 𝒞ontext; You and Will had been rivals for a very, very long time, but during the Christmas celebrations, Santa Claus decided to work a miracle and bring you together in the best way possible.
— ℱandom; Stranger Things.
♡!! warnings: sex (!p in !v), kisses (a lot of em), consensual relationship (both Will and Reader are adults here, guys), Cumming inside (don't try this at home, use protection), sex in public (public restroom), enemies to lovers (kind of, they both like each other, so...), and more things.
__________________________________________
ps: hi anon 😝 I hope you like it, it took half my brain to write this, ugh.
enjoy!! 𐙚
THE BUZZ FILLED HAWKINS SQUARE.
It was Christmas, and the university students decided to have a small celebration.
The smell of food filled the air, and young people chatted animatedly around you.
Everything was beautifully decorated with red and yellow lights, and small Christmas decorations.
It was perfect. – But you only had eyes for one person. William Byers.
He was chatting with friends from a distance, smiling and laughing peacefully.
You sighed, annoyed, even without knowing why. He looked beautiful, a small voice whispered in your head. No! No, he wasn't handsome. You shook your head, trying to shake off the thought.
Max, standing beside you, gave you a strange look, raising an eyebrow in your direction. "Hey, are you okay?" She asked worriedly, pulling you from your thoughts. You looked at her nervously and nodded quickly, trying to project confidence. "Yes, yes, I am."
She looked at you suspiciously, glancing at Lucas, her boyfriend, who was with his friends – and with him – and then she understood the reason for your strangeness.
Everyone knew about the little rivalry you and Will had, although they didn't understand why. The group had tried several times to get you two to get along, but it was in vain. Dustin once joked that you two hated each other because you secretly wanted to hook up, which you both vehemently denied.
You didn't want Will Byers. No. No.. – You hated him, just as he hated you.
"Ah... I see." She chuckled. "Why don't you... talk to him?" She suggested mischievously, making you gasp in offense. You looked at her, annoyed, but with red cheeks. "Maxine! I don't want to talk to him." You retorted.
She huffed, frowning. "It's Max! But okay, if you don't want to talk to him, then stop staring at him, right?" She retorted. You remained silent.
You didn't know why you was staring at him. Maybe it was his hair, the blue shirt that fit him perfectly. Or maybe it was his cheerful smile that seemed to light up the place.
You huffed, playfully pushing her. "Shut up." You grumbled, and she laughed at you. But her laughter stopped when she saw the group approaching. "Oh oh..." You looked at her, confused, but your confusion turned to irritation when you saw them.
You huffed, rolling your eyes before you could stop yourself. Will frowned subtly, giving you an indifferent look. "What is she doing here?" You heard him ask Dustin quietly, who shrugged.
"I could ask you the same thing, Byers." You replied, making him look at you. You two stared at each other intensely, as if time had stopped and only the two of you existed.
The group looked at you in silence, knowing it was best not to interfere. Will looked at you disdainfully, broke eye contact, shook his head, and addressed his friends; "I'm going to the bathroom."
You snorted as you watched him leave, feeling anger rising in your head. Before Max or anyone else could stop you, you stomped after the boy.
You entered the bathroom right behind him, slamming the door shut and startling him. When he realized it was you, he rolled his eyes, threatening to leave, but you were quicker and locked the door.
"Oh, so you're a coward, huh? You can't see me without running away like a scared kitten." You taunted, laughing mockingly. He glared at you angrily, but didn't reply.
You looked at him with disdain, spitting out the words. "You're ridiculous, Byers."
He glared at you angrily, the vein in his forehead bulging dangerously. You'd never seen him like that before.
"You can't talk to me like that." He retorted in a low voice. You frowned, tense.
"I speak the way that—" You began, but his strong hands interrupted you, pulling you against him. You gasped, automatically placing your hands on his chest. You could feel some muscles beneath the shirt he was wearing, and felt your skin tingle.
You stared at him like a rabbit caught in a trap, your eyes wide and your breathing erratic. "B-Byers, what are you..." You tried to keep your voice steady as you asked, but the warmth of his body against yours made you weak.
He kissed you before you could react, claiming your mouth in a way you never imagined possible. You groaned, bringing your hands to his hair where you gripped it tightly, without hesitation. God, you had no idea how long you had waited for this, how much you had fantasized about it.
He walked with you until your back hit the sink. There he effortlessly lifted you and sat you down, fitting himself between your legs. You sighed in surprise during the kiss.
Both tongues fought for space, waging a delightful battle for power.
You reached for the waistband of his pants, where his shirt was tucked in, and with a little effort pulled it out. You lifted his shirt slightly, placing your hand underneath and touching his abdomen. The contact made you both groan, needing more touch.
But, too soon for you liking, Will stopped the kiss because the out of breath. He looked at you and you felt your own arousal throb. He was a mess. His lips were swollen and red from kissing you so much, his hair disheveled by your hands, his shirt, once so perfectly neat, now all wrinkled. He looked beautiful. And the handjob he was giving you was driving you crazy.
He looked at you with desire, hunger, but also as if admiring something precious.
Suddenly you blushed, feeling shy. You must have looked a mess, just like him.
You looked away, but he gently held your chin, making you look at him again. His hand tenderly caressed your cheek, and you sighed, enjoying the touch. "You... want this?" he asked, almost shyly. You smiled and mustered the courage to kiss him again. A soft kiss this time. "I want... Hurry up, Byers." You whispered back, and moved away from him enough to remove the delicate white linen blouse you were wearing, leaving you in just your bra.
The cool air brushed against your warm skin, sending shivers down your spine. He sighed, gazing at you adoringly, before removing his own shirt.
His trembling hands unhooked her bra, leaving her breasts exposed. Your nipples hardened in the cold air, along with your excitement. He gently held both of her breasts, massaging and squeezing them. You moaned, attacking his lips again. You thought you'd never get tired of kissing him.
He pressed himself against you, and his hard member poked your intimate area. You moaned along with him, feeling your panties cling to your skin with excitement. "Byers..." You moaned, pulling his hands away from your breasts. He looked at you like a lost puppy. "I want... No, I need you now." He nodded and you lifted your hips, allowing him to remove your panties. He put it in his back pocket under her watchful gaze, but said nothing. He unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants.
You removed his hand, and with your own you reached inside his underwear and pulled out his hard dick. You groaned as you looked at him. He was beautiful, bigger than you expected. The pink tip was dripping pre-ejaculate, and you felt your mouth water at the sight of the prominent veins on it.
He groaned at your grip around him, but gently took your hand of. You didn't have much time.
He lifted you skirt enough to expose your pussy. He positioned himself against you and, with one last look of confirmation, slowly entered you.
You both groaned in unison, intoxicated by pleasure. You felt every vein inside him, and he felt your walls tighten around him as if they wanted to merge with him. It was delicious.
He carefully began to thrust, but soon the pace increased, making you both sweat. You tried to remain as quiet as possible, fearing that someone might hear you, although the noise outside made it difficult.
You kissed him again, tilting your hips to meet his thrusts. He gripped your waist, and you thought there would be marks later from how tightly he held you. "Will, Will, Will..." You groaned, like a mantra, a song. He groaned against you, desperate for more.
You felt the familiar warmth drawing near and wanted to warn him. "Will, I... I'm almost..." You tried, but the pleasure only allowed you to moan.
"I know." He replied confidently, bringing his hand to her clitoris and massaging it. "I'm almost there too." With one more thrust, a third, you came, and with your orgasm, he also reached his climax.
You kissed again, breathless. It was a softer, more passionate kiss.
When you parted ways, you were both blushing, but you couldn't tell if it was from physical exertion or shyness.
"I..." "What..." They both said at the same time, laughing awkwardly. "You can speak..." He said softly, avoiding looking at her. You swallowed hard, but mustered the courage to speak. "I... I thought you hated me." You admitted it, embarrassed.
He looked at you in surprise. "I thought you hated me." He retorted, confused.
You both laughed, and you whispered ."I... I like you. I've always liked you, but I never said anything because I thought you couldn't stand me." You confessed, picking up your blouse and putting it back on, distracting yourself with the buttons so you don't have to look him in the eyes.
"I like you too. A lot." He replied, and you looked at him in disbelief. He was already staring at you. The look he was giving you made your heart beat faster.
"Will, you don't need to... Just because I said so..." You began, uncertain, but he interrupted you, gently caressing your face. "I really like you. In fact, I liked you as soon as we met." You smiled happily, kissing him. He laughed, returning the kiss and hugging you.
“Shall we go back? They must be looking for us." You suggested, and he nodded. You both quickly got dressed after cleaning yourselves up and left the bathroom.
"Where were you two?" Lucas's suspicious voice asked, startling you. "Yeah, where were you guys?" Max finished, looking directly at you. The others also stared, confused, waiting for an explanation.
You looked at each other, not knowing what to say. "We were..." You started to make up an excuse, but Will interrupted you, taking a step forward and gently taking your hand in his. You looked at him in surprise, as did the others. "We were talking. We sorted it out." He said firmly, leaving no room for doubt.
The group stared for another moment, confused by the sudden reconciliation, but Max stepped forward, settling slowly.
"Okay... So, let's have some fun, shall we? That's what we're here for." She said, taking your hand and pulling you towards the drinks. "Come on, soon you can be with your boyfriend again." She teased, making the boys and El laugh and tease Will, who blushed but didn't deny it.
this a big big one. I hope you like it, dear anon :)) again, thank you so much for asking!
ps: I apologize for any mistake, english is not my first language, and I use Google Translate.
I love your work!! Can you do bi!Will x reader and she gives him a boob job or he eats her out for the first time? ;)
wait im lowkey into it....
Look-out team
BI!WILL X FEM!READER
warnings: smut , oral f!receiving, bi!will au
being a lookout was boring, to say the least. well... after confessing feelings to your crush, that's less boring.
Hopper just flipped to the upside down. "He's flipped." I murmured into the walkie-talkie before turning the microphone button off. Hearing cheers from the other side, I sighed in relief that they didn't suspect anything.
If you didn't realize, Will was in between my legs, underwear aside. He sucked onto my clit, his tongue flicking over it as I tried to stay quiet. If we got caught... well.. we'd be dead. Literally. Soldiers were everywhere.
But to be honest? That made everything hotter.
His hands gripped my thighs open like a starving man ready for a buffet. He sucked and licked around my clit before pumping two fingers in and out of me, curling them. I let out whimpers and whines against my hand.
My hips bucked extremely against his movements. Right when he curled them against that soft, sensitive spot, my vision cleared into white abyss. My arousal spilled over his hand, arm, and the concrete floor of the lookout tower.
He had a surprised grin on his face, kissing my clit one more time before pulling away. He stared at me in awe. Mouth covered in clear arousel, his hair ruffled from me tugging at it, and the biggest grin on his face.
"You're an idiot." I grumbled as he laughed.
little blurb for you guys!! I've had so many requests and I love all of them! pls never stop sending requests 🩷
Summary: Your Valentine's day is rudely interrupted by a desperate phone call from you best friend claiming a medical emergency. But it may work out in your favor.
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, drug use (Viagra), p n v, no protection (wrap before you tap please), hand job, multiple rounds, cream pie.
જ⁀➴ ♡ Yeah no, this one's pure smut, barely any plot
A/N: So I actually ditched my original work I teased for Steve, just wasn't vibing with it and then adjusted this one instead. Happy Valentine's day Steve fan's.
Word Count: 3,529
There's a massive problem with being Steve Harrington's childhood best friend was that you were expected to handle situations like this.
"You're my best friend," Steve whined through the phone, his voice pitched higher than usual, slightly breathless in a way that made your stomach tighten with concern. "My best friend. That means you have to help me. It's in the code."
"There's no code, Steve."
"There is! I looked it up!"
You pinched the bridge of your nose, pacing the inside of your bedroom as much as the cord would allow, watching excited kids outside your window on the way to their dates. A sad record still playing on your turntable - trying to drown out the fact that you didn't have anyone to share the day with.
"Fine," you sighed. "What's the emergency? Did you fail another test? Can't work out what outfit to wear for your date tonight?"
Silence. Then - a sound. A soft, groaning noise, almost a whimper. "I need you to come over. Right now. It's - it's an emergency. A medical emergency."
Your heart skipped a beat. "Steve, are you hurt? Did something happen? Is it the Upside Down?"
"No! Nothing like that! Just - " he lowered his voice to a frantic whisper that vibrated with strain, " - just please come over. And maybe bring ice? Lots of ice? Cold things. Frozen things."
He hung up.
You stared at the phone, equal parts worried and annoyed, then grabbed your bag and headed for your car.
Steve's house was dark when you arrived, which was strange for 4 PM on a Saturday. You let yourself in with the key he'd given you two years ago with a cute, very you keychain attached - "for emergencies," he'd claimed, though mostly you'd used it to feed his mom's cat when they were away cause you loved that little furball.
"Steve?" you called, dropping your bag in the entryway. "Where are you?"
"Upstairs," came the muffled reply, thin and strained. "My room. Please hurry."
You took the stairs two at a time, concern overriding everything else. You pushed open his bedroom door and froze.
Steve was on his bed, fully clothed in jeans and a t-shirt, but his face was flushed a deep crimson that spread across his cheeks and ears. His hair was damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead in dark strands, and he was - oh God - he was holding a bag of frozen peas against his crotch with both hands, his knees drawn up, his whole body curled in on itself like he was in pain.
"Steve?"
"Don't look at me," he groaned, his voice cracking, throwing an arm over his face. His chest heaved with every breath, his t-shirt clinging to his skin. "I'm a monster. I'm broken. I'm - oh god - " he broke off with a whine, high and desperate, his hips bucking upward involuntarily, his hands pressing the frozen bag harder against himself.
"Why are you holding frozen vegetables to your - " you gestured vaguely, " - your area?"
He peeked at you from under his arm, his eyes glassy and slightly wild, pupils blown wide and black. "Remember Cheryl Matthews?"
"Vaguely. Cheerleader? Dated Tommy Hagan?"
"She gave me chocolates." He pointed with one trembling hand to a heart-shaped box on his desk, already empty, his movements jerky and uncoordinated like muscle spasms. "For Valentine's Day. Said she wanted to 'give me something special.'" He made air quotes, then winced, a full-body shudder running through him as he adjusted the peas. "I ate them. All of them. Because I'm an idiot who can't pace himself."
"Okay..." you said slowly, still not understanding. "So you have a stomachache?"
"I wish!" He laughed, slightly hysterical, the sound breaking into another whine as he shifted restlessly against the mattress. "No, Y/N, I - " he dropped his voice to a whisper that shook to your core, " - I can't make it go down. It's been two hours. I've tried everything. Cold showers. Thinking about my grandma. Math equations. Sad puppies - and nothing works! It just - " he broke off with a gasp, his head falling back against the headboard, his throat exposed and vulnerable, lined with sweat, " - it won't stop! It's aching, Y/N. It hurts."
"Steve," you said carefully, fighting a small smile, "are you telling me those chocolates were - "
"Laced with something!" he wailed, his voice cracking on the last word. "I don't know what! But I feel like I'm going to die, and I can't go to the hospital because they'll think I'm some kind of pervert, and I can't tell my mom because she'll kill me, and you're the only person I could think of who wouldn't - " he broke off, groaning, the sound low and wounded and needy, his hips rolling upward in a slow, helpless grind against the frozen bag, " - who wouldn't think I'm completely disgusting."
"Wouldn't laugh at you?" you supplied.
He peeked at you again, his eyes desperate and pleading, wet at the corners with frustration or pain or both. "Okay, you're clearly laughing now, but I thought maybe - maybe you'd know how to help. Before I have to start thinking about amputation. Or jumping in the quarry. Or - oh god - " he gasped, his whole body going rigid, his knuckles white where they gripped the peas, " - please think of something to help me. Please. I can't - I can't stand it anymore. It won't stop throbbing."
You did laugh then - you couldn't help it, a sharp burst of sound that made him groan and cover his face again, his shoulders hunching with embarrassment. "Steve, I - this is - this is the most ridiculous thing that's ever happened to you. And that's saying something."
"I know," he moaned, the sound muffled by his arm. "I'm cursed. I'm actually cursed. Probably by a witch. Or a demon. Or - "
"Or Cheryl Matthews just wanted to mess with you," you suggested, crossing to his desk to examine the chocolate box. There, tucked under the velvet lining, was a small handwritten note: "Hope you enjoy these as much as I'll enjoy watching you eat them. Happy Valentine's Day! ;)"
You showed him. He turned an even darker shade of red, if that was even possible.
"She poisoned me," he said, outraged and breathless. "This is assault. This is - this is chemical warfare!"
"It's Viagra, Steve," you said, trying to be practical despite the absurdity of the situation. "Or something similar. You're not going to die. You're just... enhanced. For a while."
"How long is 'a while'?" he asked, slightly panicked, his voice rising.
"I don't know? A few hours?"
"Hours?" The word came out as a wail, high and broken. He dropped the bag of peas - finally - and you couldn't help it. Your eyes dropped down.
He was hard. Impossibly, almost painfully hard, the outline straining against his zipper, thick and obvious and there. You could see the shape of him clearly through the denim, the way it curved up toward his hip, the way it twitched slightly with his pulse. He noticed you looking and made a wounded noise, his hands flying to cover himself, his face buried in his pillow.
"Don't - don't look at it," he begged, his voice muffled and miserable. "It's obscene. I've been like this since my lunch break. I had to stand behind the counter at Family Video trying no to crumble. I had to keep pressing my hips into the counter between customers, Y/N. I couldn't walk properly. I had to wait until everyone left, closed up shop and then I ran home and I've been here ever since, trying to make it stop - "
He broke off with a gasp, his hips jerking upward into his own hands, a shudder running through his whole body. "It hurts," he whispered, and you realized he was actually trembling - not just embarrassed, but in real, physical distress. "It's too much. I can't - I can't think. I keep having these - " he broke off, his face screwing up with shame, " - these thoughts. About you. About people. About anything. And I can't make it go away."
You sat on the edge of his bed, careful not to jostle him, and tried to think. You were his best friend. You'd been his best friend since you were toddlers, since he'd chased you around the yard yelling cooties. You'd seen him cry over Nancy, seen him covered in Demogorgon, seen him do everything.
But you'd never seen him like this. Desperate, flushed and aroused, his body betraying him in the most intimate way, his usual confidence stripped away to reveal something vulnerable and raw underneath. His hands were still pressed between his legs, but you could see the way his hips kept shifting, rolling, seeking friction he wouldn't let himself have.
And you definitely shouldn't be noticing how good he looked with his hair messy and his pupils blown wide, his chest heaving under that thin t-shirt, his mouth red and bitten where he'd been chewing his lip.
"Okay," you said, forcing your voice steady. "Okay. We need to get you comfortable. Those jeans are probably not helping."
"Can't take them off," he mumbled into his pillow. "Then it's just - there. Out. And I can't - I won't - I'll - " he broke off with a whine, high and desperate, his hips bucking upward again, " - I can't control it, Y/N. I touch it and it just gets worse. I tried, earlier, I thought maybe if I just - but it wouldn't stop, it wouldn't finish, and I was so sensitive it hurt, and I - "
"Steve." You reached out, touching his arm, feeling the heat radiating off his skin, the fine tremor running through his muscles. "It's me. We've been friends for years. I've seen you in swim trunks. I've seen you throw up at a party. I've seen you cry during E.T." He made a small sound of protest. "This is just... biology. Unfortunate, chemically-induced biology. Let me help."
He rolled onto his back, slowly, his movements careful and pained. He looked at you - really looked at you - and something shifted in his expression. Something dark and hungry that he'd never aimed at you before, not in all your years of friendship. His eyes dropped to your mouth, your throat, your chest, and he made that sound again - that low, wounded noise.
"Y/N," he said, his voice dropping an octave, rough and slightly dangerous, strained with effort. "You should probably go."
"What? No, I - "
"I mean it." He shifted, and you saw it - the full shape of him now, thick and hard against his hip, straining the denim. He was bigger than you'd thought, or maybe just harder, more desperate, the outline clear and obscene. "Whatever this is - it's making me think things. Want things." His hand moved, almost involuntarily, pressing against himself, and he gasped, his head falling back, his throat working. "And I can't - " he swallowed hard, his jaw tight, his whole body trembling with effort, " - I can't control it. And I don't want to - " he broke off, his hips rolling upward into his palm, a groan tearing from his throat, " - I don't want to scare you. Or hurt you. Or do something we'll both regret."
"Want what?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
He laughed, harsh and humorless, his hand still pressed against himself, kneading slightly, his face twisted with pleasure and pain. "You. I've always wanted you. Since sophomore year. Since you laughed at my terrible joke in the cafeteria and I thought - shit." His eyes met yours, dark and desperate and honest. "But we're friends. Good friends. And I didn't want to ruin that, so I never - " he gestured helplessly with his free hand, the other still working against himself, " - I never said anything. And now I'm drugged and desperate and I can't stop thinking about what you'd taste like, what you'd feel like, and you need to leave before I do something - fuck - " he broke off with a gasp, his hips jerking upward, his hand moving faster, " - before I can't stop myself."
The room went silent. Your heart hammered against your ribs, loud enough that you were sure he could hear it.
"Steve," you said carefully. "Look at me."
He did. His eyes were dark, glazed with arousal and something else - fear, maybe, or hope. His hand was still moving against himself, slow, desperate strokes through his jeans, and he didn't seem to realize he was doing it.
"I've wanted you too," you admitted. "Since you helped me with with my scrapped knees and you were so patient, so kind, even though I was frustrating and stupid and - "
"You're not stupid," he interrupted, his voice rough, his hand stilling. "You're perfect. You're - fuck - " he broke off, his hips jerking upward, his hand flying back to press against himself, " - you need to go. Now. I'm not - I can't be gentle right now. I can't be careful." He looked at you, his eyes wet, his face flushed and desperate. "I want to pin you down. I want to fuck you until you can't walk. I want to - " he broke off with a whine, high and broken, his head falling back, " - I want you so bad it hurts, Y/N. Literally hurts. And I don't want to hurt you."
"Then don't be gentle," you said.
You reached for him.
The kiss was desperate from the start - teeth and tongue and need, his hands tangling in your hair, pulling you closer, deeper, his mouth hot and hungry and starving. He tasted like chocolate and mint and Steve, familiar and new all at once, and you moaned into his mouth, feeling the vibration of his answering groan.
His hands were everywhere - rough and trembling, tearing at your shirt, your jeans, stripping you efficiently despite his shaking. He was whining into your mouth, small desperate sounds that vibrated against your lips, his hips grinding against your thigh where he was still trapped in his jeans.
"Off," he gasped, pulling back just enough to fumble with his zipper, his fingers clumsy and uncoordinated as you fumbled with your own clothes. "Please, I need - oh god - " he broke off with a gasp as he finally freed himself, his cock springing up against his stomach, thick and flushed a deep ruddy pink, the tip wet and achingly hard.
He was beautiful. Bigger than you'd imagined, curved slightly upward, a vein running along the underside that pulsed with his rapid heartbeat. He wrapped his hand around himself immediately, stroking once, twice, his head falling back with a groan that sounded like agony.
"Can't - " he panted, his hand moving faster, his hips bucking into his fist, " - can't stop touching it. Feels so good but it's not enough - need more - need you - "
"Steve," you breathed, reaching for him, wrapping your hand around his where he was stroking himself. He was hot - burning - the skin like silk over steel, pulsing and throbbing against your palm. He made a sound - high and broken and desperate - and his hand fell away, letting you take over.
"Yes," he whimpered, his hips jerking upward into your grip, his whole body trembling. "Yes, please, please - "
You stroked him slowly, experimentally, watching his face. He was wrecked already - mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving with every breath. A bead of wetness gathered at the tip and you swiped your thumb over it, spreading it down his shaft, making him slick and slippery in your grip.
"Fuck - fuck - " he choked out, his hips snapping upward, fucking into your hand with desperate, uncoordinated thrusts. "Too good - it's too much - but I can't - I won't - " he broke off with a whine, his hand flying to grip your wrist, stilling your movements. "If you keep doing that I'll = I'll finish - and I want - I need - " he looked at you, his eyes dark and pleading, " - I need to be inside you. Please. Please."
You nodded, breathless, and he was on you immediately - pushing you back against the mattress, looming over you with dark, hungry eyes. He was shaking - actually shaking - his whole body trembling with the effort to go slow, to be careful.
"Tell me," he demanded, even as he was already positioning himself, the tip of him nudging against your entrance, hot and wet and there. "Tell me to stop and I will. I swear - "
"Don't stop," you breathed, reaching for him, pulling him down into another kiss. "Please, Steve. I want you inside me. Now."
He pushed inside in one long, hard thrust - no teasing, no hesitation - filling you until you were breathless with it, until your back arched off the mattress with a cry that he swallowed with his mouth. He was thick, big - perfectly, impossibly thick - and he stretched you just right, the burn fading quickly into pleasure so intense it made your eyes water.
"Oh my god - " he groaned, his voice breaking, his forehead dropping to yours. "You're so tight - so wet - so perfect - " He pulled back slightly, just an inch, and thrust back in hard, making you cry out. "Can't - " he panted, his hips already snapping forward, seeking friction, seeking more, " - can't go slow. Can't be gentle. I'm sorry - I'm sorry - "
"Don't be," you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper. "Don't be gentle. Move, Steve. Please - "
He moved. Started a rhythm that was hard and fast and desperate, each thrust snapping his hips against yours with enough force to move the bed. He was whining with every stroke - high, broken sounds that vibrated against your neck where he'd buried his face, his breath hot and damp against your skin.
"So good," he panted, his voice wrecked, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "You're so good - so perfect - fuck - " He shifted his angle, grinding against your clit with every thrust, and you moaned, your head falling back. "Love you - love you so much - can't believe you're letting me - oh god - "
He pulled back to look at you, his eyes dark and wet, his face flushed and desperate. "Touch yourself," he begged, his voice cracking. "Please - I want to feel you come around me - I want to - " he broke off with a groan, his hips stuttering, his cock throbbing inside you, " - I'm close - I'm so close - but I want you to - "
You reached between you, your fingers finding your clit, circling in time with his thrusts. The pleasure built sharp and hot, coiling tight in your belly, and you were gasping, moaning, your free hand gripping his hair, pulling his mouth down to yours.
"Steve," you gasped against his lips. "I'm gonna - I'm gonna - "
"Yes," he whimpered, his thrusts becoming erratic, harder, needier. "Yes, please, come for me - now - "
You shattered. Came apart with his name breaking across your lips, your body tightening around him until he shouted - actually shouted - and followed you over, spilling inside you in hot, pulsing waves that seemed to go on forever. He kept thrusting through it, milking his own orgasm, whining high in his throat as he overstimulated himself, until finally he collapsed, careful to roll to the side, pulling you with him.
For a long moment, there was only breathing. The sound of his heartbeat under your ear, still racing but slowing. The smell of sex and sweat and chocolate.
"Still hard," he mumbled eventually, his voice dazed and slightly horrified.
You laughed, breathless, reaching down to confirm. He was - improbably, impossibly - still thick and hot against your thigh, still pulsing with arousal, though slightly less rigid than before. "The drugs," you reminded him. "They last a while, remember?"
"Right," he said. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face - wicked and delighted and Steve, even as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "So... we have time for round two?"
You laughed, pressing closer, feeling him twitch against you. "You're insatiable."
"Only for you," he said, and kissed you - sweet and slow and full of promise. "Only ever for you."
They made it to round three before the effects finally started to fade, leaving Steve exhausted and sated and covered in marks that you'd have to explain to Robin later. You lay tangled in his sheets, your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow to normal, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back.
"So," he said eventually, his voice rumbling under your ear. "Best friends?"
"Best friends who have sex," you corrected. "Best friends who are probably dating now? If you want?"
He tilted your chin up, his eyes soft and serious, all the desperation gone now, replaced by something warm and certain. "I've wanted to date you for three years, Y/N. Of course I want."
"Good," you said, and kissed him. "Then you should probably know - this was the best Valentine's Day I've ever had."
He laughed, loud and delighted and yours. "Even with the drugged chocolates?"
"Especially with the drugged chocolates."
Outside, February wind rattled the windows. Inside, two best friends who were definitely something more now made plans for pizza and movies and maybe, eventually, sleep.
But for now, this. Sticky skin and soft words and the lingering taste of chocolate on your tongue.
Warning: Pure Smut (This was just random from my crush on Jim Hopper)
You were on your knees on the thick rug in front of the fireplace, the heat warming your bare skin. Jim was behind you, his large, calloused hands gripping your hips, pulling you back against him. He was already buried deep inside you, his thick cock stretching you perfectly, filling you until you could feel him in every corner of your being.
"Look at you," he growled, his voice a low, rough rumble that vibrated through your entire body. "So fuckin' perfect for me."
He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, a languid rhythm that made you ache with need. Each drag of his cock against your inner walls sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. One of his hands left your hip, sliding up your back to tangle in your hair, gently tugging your head to the side. He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, his beard scraping deliciously against your shoulder.
"You're mine, aren't you?" he murmured against your ear, his breath hot. "This pussy is all mine."
You could only moan in response, pushing back against him, silently begging for more. He chuckled, a dark, knowing sound. "That's what I thought."
His pace quickened, the slow, teasing rhythm giving way to something harder, more demanding. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with the crackle of the fire and your breathless cries. His grip on your hip tightened, holding you steady as he pounded into you, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.
"Jim," you gasped, his name a prayer on your lips. "Please…"
"Please what?" he demanded, his other hand snaking around to find your clit. He circled the sensitive bundle of nerves with calloused fingers, applying just the right amount of pressure. "Tell me what you want, honey. You know I like it when you use your words."
"I want to come," you cried out, your body trembling. "Please, let me come."
"Come for me then," he commanded, his voice thick with authority and lust. "Come all over my cock. Let me feel you."
That was all it took. His words, his touch, the relentless pistoning of his hips—it all coalesced into a blinding wave of pleasure that crashed over you. Your orgasm ripped through you, your muscles clamping down around him as you cried out his name. He groaned, the sound guttural and raw, as your pulsing walls milked his own release from him. He thrust into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled himself deep inside you.
For a long moment, you both stayed like that, breathing heavily, your bodies still joined. Then, he slowly pulled out, and you collapsed onto the rug, boneless and sated. He was right behind you, pulling you into his arms and tucking you against his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, a stark contrast to the raw intensity of just moments before.
"Love you, my girl," he whispered, his voice now soft and tender.
"Love you too, Hop," you murmured back, a contented smile on your face as you drifted off to sleep in the safety of his arms, the firelight casting a warm glow on your tangled limbs.
Notes;Reader is Steve's little sister, Smut, getting caught, protective Steve, 18+ Mike Wheeler
The Harrington house was quiet for once—no Dustin banging on the door about some new theory, No party, no overprotective siblings. Hawkins had finally exhaled. Vecna was gone, the gates were closed, and for the first time in years, everyone was just… alive. And happy about it.
You and Mike had been dating for almost eight months now—long enough that the initial awkwardness of “Steve Harrington’s little sister” dating “the kid who used to call him a douchebag” had mostly faded into fond eye-rolls and the occasional “don’t make it weird” warning from Steve.
Mostly.
Tonight Steve was supposed to be working a closing shift at work, then grabbing late-night burgers with Robin. That gave you and Mike a solid four-hour window at your place—empty, parents conveniently out of town for the weekend.
You barely made it past the front door.
Mike’s jacket was already on the floor, your hoodie somewhere near the stairs. By the time you stumbled into your bedroom, mouths still fused together, clothes were a lost cause. He’d pinned you against the door with that surprising strength he’d developed from years of hauling D&D gear and running from monsters, and now he was above you on the bed, curls falling into his eyes, breathing hard.
“God, you’re so—” he started, then just kissed you again like the sentence wasn’t worth finishing.
You laughed into his mouth, fingers digging into his shoulders. “Romantic, Wheeler.”
“I’m trying,” he muttered, voice wrecked, hips rolling in that slow, deliberate way that always made your brain short-circuit. “You’re distracting.”
You tugged his hair just enough to make him groan. “Good.”
Things escalated fast after that—skin on skin, whispered curses, the headboard giving tiny, rhythmic thumps against the wall. Mike was vocal tonight, all low moans and half-formed compliments that made your face burn.
“Fuck—baby, just like that,” he breathed against your neck, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your thigh. “You feel so—”
The bedroom door flew open.
“—good—shit.”
Mike froze mid-thrust.
You yelped, yanking the comforter up like it could teleport you to another dimension.
Steve stood in the doorway, still in his stupid green Family Video vest, one hand on the knob, the other holding a greasy paper bag that was now slowly dripping ketchup onto the carpet.
For three glorious seconds, no one spoke.
Then Steve’s face went from confused → horrified → murderous in record time.
“WHAT THE HELL—”
Mike—still very much inside you, comforter barely covering anything—didn’t even flinch. He just turned his head slowly toward the door, curls plastered to his sweaty forehead, and deadpanned:
“Hey, Steve. You’re home early.”
You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. Or screaming. Maybe both.
Steve’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
“You—both of you—naked—in my sister’s bed—Mike Wheeler—”
“Technically it’s her bed,” Mike corrected, calm as anything, like they were debating campaign rules. “And we’re eighteen. And adults. And also—can you maybe turn around? I’m not super comfortable having this conversation with my dick still—”
“MIKE.”
You finally found your voice, shrill and cracking. “Steve—out! Out out out!”
Steve didn’t move. He just stared at the ceiling like he was praying for Vecna to come back and end his suffering.
“I left work early because Robin said she had a migraine and I thought—y’know—I’d bring home milkshakes and we could all watch a movie. Like normal people. And instead I walk in on—” He gestured wildly at the bed. “—this.”
Mike, because he had zero survival instinct, tilted his head. “You could’ve knocked.”
“I LIVE HERE.”
“You also live with headphones ninety percent of the time,” Mike shot back. “I figured the odds were in our favor.”
You buried your face in Mike’s shoulder, torn between mortification and helpless giggles. “Mike, shut up before he kills you.”
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose so hard you thought he might break it. “I raised you,” he said to you, voice strangled. “I changed your diapers. I taught you how to ride a bike. I spent four years getting the shit beat out of me so you wouldn’t die and this—” He waved at Mike again. “—this is the thanks I get?”
Mike finally took pity (or maybe just wanted to move) and slowly eased off you, pulling the blanket higher and sitting up with as much dignity as a naked eighteen-year-old could manage.
“Look,” he said, softer now. “I love her. Like—really love her. Not the ‘I’m gonna write her cheesy poems’ love, although I did that once and she hated it. The real kind. The kind where I’d jump off a cliff for her. Again. And I’m not gonna hurt her. Ever.”
Steve stared at him for a long beat.
Mike stared back, doe eyes steady.
You peeked over the blanket. “He’s telling the truth, Steve. And… we’re careful. And we’re safe. And I’m happy. Really happy.”
Steve exhaled through his nose like a bull about to charge.
Then—miraculously—he deflated.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Fine. But there are rules. New rules. Loud rules. Like—doors stay unlocked when I’m home. And no more sex in this house until I’m literally dead. And Mike—” He pointed. “If I ever have to hear the words ‘my dick’ come out of your mouth again in this context, I’m burning your D&D manuals.”
Mike smirked, just a little. “Noted.”
Steve turned to leave, then paused in the doorway.
“And you’re both wearing clothes in under thirty seconds or I’m coming back with the baseball bat.”
He slammed the door.
Silence.
Then you burst out laughing—actual, can’t-breathe laughter. Mike flopped back onto the pillows beside you, dragging a hand down his face.
“I think he’s gonna kill me,” he said, but he was grinning.
You rolled onto his chest, still giggling. “Nah. He loves you. He just hates that he loves you.”
Mike wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Worth it.”
Downstairs, you heard the unmistakable sound of Steve aggressively opening and closing cabinets, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “I need a drink and I don’t even drink.”
You and Mike exchanged a look.
“Think I'm grounded?” you whispered.
Mike snorted. “We survived the Upside Down. We can survive Steve Harrington having a heart attack over sex.”
He kissed you again—slow, sweet, unhurried.
“Next time,” he murmured against your lips, “your bedroom is definitely getting a lock.”
Pairing: Steve Harrington x pregnant!reader (and then dad!Steve x mom!reader)
Word Count: ~3.1k
Summary: The baby is finally on the way, and Steve's with you for the entire, grueling ride.
Warnings: childbirth without epidural (but not super descriptive), so so so sweet, Robin and Dustin show up at the end because of course they'd be there, breastfeeding, blah blah blah all the birth stuff
Kids? (Part 1)
Kids? (Part 2)
The days seemed to drag on as you and Steve wait for the baby to arrive. You were due two days ago, but nothing happened, so it's been constant waiting.
Steve is obsessed with the way you waddle around the house, (and everything else about your pregnant self, just especially that), but he's also close to bursting himself with anticipation.
The two are you laying on the couch, him massaging your swollen feet as you doze against the pillows. The peace of the moment only lasts for about 10 more minutes though.
You wake up to a sudden wet feeling in your pants and a dull ache in your belly. You let out a little groan, and Steve's eyes widen at the realization of what's just happened. He doesn't even care about the fact that his own pants are a bit wet or that the couch is soaked. He can figure that out later.
"Hey, hey, get up hon." He whispers, shaking you gently. You're confused and disoriented, but Steve is wide awake.
"What? What's-- Ow!" You whine as you get a sudden pain, holding your belly and looking down at yourself. You immediately wake up, and you let out a soft moan.
"Steve... Will you-- can you bring me a new pair of pants?" You whimper, and your husband immediately runs off to the bedroom and comes back with his own pants changed and a new pair for you.
Steve helps you out of your pants, and helps slide the new ones up your legs. Once that's done, he swipes up the prepacked bag and begins helping you shuffle towards the door.
"We're gonna get you to the hospital. Holy shit. Oh my god, the baby's coming. We're gonna be parents." Steve whispers to himself, getting you into the passenger seat, then rounding the car and hopping into the driver's seat.
He drives towards the hospital, speeding, but not driving recklessly. Once you get there, he helps you waddle to the front desk, a nurse immediately getting you to a delivery room.
Hours upon hours go by as your contractions become stronger and more frequent. You've been pretty calm the whole time, since the contractions were weak, but the past 15-ish minutes have been brutal.
Your squeezing Steve's hand, head tilted back and pained moans falling from your lips. "There you go, just breathe through it." Steve whispers in your ear, brushing your sweaty hair back.
"So-- It already hurts so bad, Steve." You whimper, lolling your head to the side so you can look at his concerned face.
"I know... I know. But you're doing so well." He hums softly, using all his willpower to not freak out. He strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, whispering praises and comforting words in every attempt to help you.
"Honey, are you sure you don't want the epidural?" He whispers, and you nod. "I don't. It's-- I can do it... and-- mph-- one of the books I read... it said that-- not getting an epidural can help feel when you should push... And it's less likely for there to be any complications." You explain through gasps and groans.
"Alright. You can do this, sweetie." He whispers, kissing your forehead and sitting down in the chair beside your bed.
"How long has it been?" You whimper out, letting out a low moan as another contraction begins, giving you barely any time to recover from the last one.
Steve looks to the clock, frowning softly as he sees how long it's already been since your water broke. "It's uh-- It's been a little over 13 hours." He sighs, wishing he could take all your pain for himself instead.
You let out a soft cry at the news, looking towards the doctor. "How much longer until I push?" You whine, looking at her with eyes filled with something close to desperation.
"Shouldn't be much longer. You've been at 9 centimeters for a while, it'll be any minute." She says softly, already getting the area prepared. She knows that you should be ready to start the delivery very soon.
You look at Steve, a weary smile on your face. "Hi, hon." He whispers softly, moving a hand up to stroke your cheek. "Gonna meet our girl soon." He whispers again.
You let out a soft laugh, the most you can muster up. For the entirety of your pregnancy, Steve claims that his "father's intuition" says it's got to be a girl.
"Sorta hope it's a boy. Just-- just so that you'll be wrong." You laugh, pain still laced into your voice, but the conversation a brief distraction from the pain.
"Oh, ha-ha." He says sarcastically, but he has the biggest damn smile on his face. You suddenly feel a deep pain between your legs, and the doctor looks up at you from between your legs.
"Alrighty. Whenever you feel the need to push, I want you to do just that." The doctor says, and you look at Steve with a scared expression. He smiles softly, but his own eyes are filled with pure worry that he tries to hide for your sake.
It's not long before you feel tension rising in your body, and you look at the doctor for reassurance. She gives a nod, and you push with everything you've got, letting out deep breaths to try and regulate your... everything.
"There you go." He whispers, standing by your side for another 2 hours before the doctor announces that you're crowning.
You're sweating, crying, red, and your hospital gown is falling off one of your shoulders. Steve looks at you with wide eyes. He told you a few days ago that he really wanted to see the very moment your baby is born into the world.
Now, as you sob, he's second guessing it. You look at him with teary eyes, opening your mouth to speak, but a loud, pained moan flies from your mouth before you can get a word out.
"You can-- g-go, Steve. You're only gonna get this moment-- get it once." You moan out, and Steve blinks his eyes a few times to get rid of the tears forming.
"Are you sure? I don't want-- Do you need me here? I don't--" "Please, Steve. Go. This is your-- ugh-- your first kid." You manage to get out, Steve walking over to stand just a bit behind the doctor.
He stares with tears in his eyes as you push again, squeezing the barrier on the bed as you feel the burn between your legs. Steve looks up to you, just to make sure you're really okay.
His breath hitches as he sees the baby's head expel from your body bit by agonizing bit. "Is it bad?" You ask, mistaking the look of awe on his face for worry. You think maybe you've torn badly.
Steve shakes his head, a nervous smile gracing his face. "No, no. You're amazing. You're doing so, so good. I just-- I can almost see her head." He smiles, still only referring to the baby as a girl since he's so sure of it.
You give an exhausted smile, letting out a loud sob as you push again. Hard. The doctor nods, looking up at you for just a moment. "Keep doing that. That's good." She says while Steve gently rubs your calf from behind the doctor.
You push again and again through sobs and cries, and soon enough, Steve can see the little baby's whole head. He looks like he may collapse as you continue to push.
Only a few minutes later, a little cry fills the room, and the little baby girl is scooped up by a nurse who begins to clean her off.
"I... I told you... it would be a girl." Steve tries to poke fun, but his voice is breathy and awestruck as the girl cries and wails, still connected to you by the umbilical cord.
She's wrapped loosely in a little blanket and placed on your chest only a moment later. You let out a sob, but this time not pained. You have the biggest smile on your face, despite the overall state of you at the moment.
Steve is crying beside you, watching as your sweet girl flails in your loving arms. "Abigail..." You whisper the name the two of you picked for a girl, looking at your crying husband through blurry eyes.
Steve smiles, his shaky hand reaching out like he wants to touch you, or your daughter, but then he hesitates. "It's okay, Steve... And don't worry, I'll let you hold her as soon as the cord is cut, okay?" You whisper softly, and he nods, almost in a daze as his finger finds his little girl's tiny hand.
You deliver the placenta, which takes about half an hour. Once that's done and you're all stitched up, a nurse gently takes your daughter and looks to Steve. "Dad, are you cutting the cord?"
He looks at you, almost looking like he's asking permission even though the two of you have discussed this very moment since only a few weeks into the pregnancy.
You give him a reassuring nod, and he practically hops up from his seat beside your bed and grabs the scissors with a shaky hand.
Steve cuts where the nurse tells him to, smiling softly at the sight of little Abigail. She's put in only a little diaper. The nurse places the wailing baby in his arms, and he walks back over to you, slowly sitting in the chair beside your bed once again.
You watch as he stares down at his baby girl, and you know right in that moment that everything you suffered and lost over the years was worth living through just for this moment.
"Hi, peanut..." He whispers, using the nickname he had for the baby throughout the entire pregnancy. "I'm Steve-- Well, I guess you'll be calling me dad, wouldn't you?" You smile the warmest smile you've ever had on your face as Steve talks to the gift the two of you have been waiting so long for.
"I um-- I promise you I'll be a good daddy, okay?" He smiles through his tears, gently stroking little Abigail's cheek with his thumb. His eyes are filled with wonder at how tiny she is.
"M'gonna make sure you always know how loved you are. Not just by me and your mama, you have so many aunts and uncles that are so excited to meet you." He whispers, trying to wipe his tears quick enough so they don't land on the baby.
"I'm gonna protect you and Mama... Always. Gonna make sure you two are the happiest girls in the world." His voice shakes before he glances up at you again, this time speaking to you. "I promise."
"Oh, Steve..." You whisper, a smile on your face and a sob slipping past your lips. "I love you, Steve. You and Abigail are my whole world." You wipe your eyes and let out a soft laugh of disbelief when Steve places the little girl back in your arms.
"You still want Dustin and Robin coming?" Steve whispers, rubbing his thumb over your still slightly sticky cheek. You nod and look down at your daughter, still letting out soft little whines and hiccups against you.
"Okay. I'll go call them." Steve whispers, kissing your forehead before walking out into the hallway to find a phone.
He dials Dustin first, his whole body still shaking. He has a child. A child with you, his wife, the love of his life. He has a baby girl. He's never been so happy in his life.
Dustin picks up, groaning something about how late it is as he answers. "Henderson. You're an uncle, man." Steve whispers, his voice breaking.
Dustin is immediately fully awake, basically screaming into Steve's ear about how he's so happy and that he's getting some clothes on and that he'll be there in 20 minutes. Steve rolls his eyes and grumbles a goodbye at Dustin's antics before hanging the phone up, only to pick it back up so he can dial Robin.
Robin answers, seemingly wide awake. "Hey, um-- The baby's here. Do you wanna come see her?" Steve mumbles, still in a haze as Robin squeals, followed by rustling and the sound of Vickie grumbling about going back to sleep.
Once he says his goodbyes to Robin, he rolls his eyes once again. His two best friends (and Robin also being yours) really are... something. He wouldn't trade them for the world, but damn.
He walks back into the room, seeing you nearly asleep but still holding a now quiet and still Abigail. He can't tell if he should frown or smile at the sight. You're already so great at being a mom, but at the same time, you just look so exhausted.
He walks over to you and gently pets your hair, trying to wake you out of your dozing as softly as possible. "Hey, sweetheart. You need some food, hon."
You let out a soft groan as your eyes crack open, but you immediately smile at the sight in your arms. "Steve... She's sleeping." You gasp, stroking the little beanie on your daughter's head.
"She is. Good job." Steve whispers, glancing between you and the baby. "I'm gonna get you something to eat. Try and stay awake f'me, okay?" Steve kisses the top of your head, then ever so gently kisses little Abigail's tiny head.
"M'kay..." You mumble, and Steve knows you're not gonna last long enough while he's out of the room. He really doesn't want you to stop holding the baby, but he also doesn't want you to drop her if you fall asleep.
"Hey, I'm gonna put Aby in the bed. I don't want you to fall asleep and drop her." Steve speaks so gently, not only for the sleeping baby, but for your tired self.
You nod, letting him take your daughter from your arms so she can lay in the little clear bassinet provided by the hospital.
"I'll be right back. The food shouldn't take long, but if it does, Dustin and Robin will be here soon, okay?" He whispers, and you nod along in a half-asleep state.
Steve comes back about 10 minutes later with a plate of hospital food, running into Robin on the way back up to your room. He smiles as he sees her, leading her to your room.
The door opens, and you shift around for a moment before opening your sleepy eyes. "Steve, what time is it?" You mumble, smiling as Robin basically falls into the room behind Steve.
"It's-- Robin, the baby's asleep-- it's just past three, hon." He whispers, coming back to your bedside with your food. He sets it down, stroking your messy hair back and kissing your forehead.
"Y/N!" Robin whisper-yells. "You have a baby!" She gawks at the little bassinette beside you, sitting down on the edge of the bed and grabbing your hand.
You weakly squeeze Robin's hand, rolling your eyes but smiling nonetheless when Steve spoons a bite of food into your mouth.
"I'm so happy for you two. She's so tiny." Robin glances at the bassinette once again with a warm smile.
"Steve, why don't you let Robin hold Aby." You hum, taking the spoon from his hand, letting your fingers brush his. He nods, hesitating before getting up and picking up the little girl.
He smiles down at her for a moment, rocking her ever so gently. "Hey, baby girl." He whispers as he brings her over to your bed. He sits beside Robin, giving her a look that says 'you better be careful' before gently setting the girl in Robin's arms.
"Okay, woah. Wow. I'm holding a baby." She whispers, missing the way Steve keeps his hands protectively close to Abigail, just in case.
"Steve..." You breathe out, not wanting to ruin the moment, but also knowing that it's better to just ask Steve for something right away instead of letting him find out that you needed something and didn't tell him.
He's immediately on his feet, hovering over you with a hand on your cheek. "Yeah? You alright?" You laugh softly, nodding in response before speaking up. "I just have to go to the bathroom, Steve."
"Oh, okay." He sighs, already gently grabbing your sides to help you up. He abruptly looks back at Robin, pointing a stern finger at her. "Be careful with her."
Robin nods as Steve steadies you. "You alright?" He asks as you waddle towards the bathroom connected to the hospital room.
When you come back out a few minutes later, Dustin has come and is now cradling Abigail with a smile on his face. Steve helps you back into bed with the most gentle hands.
"Hey, Dusty." You hum, settling back against the pillows while Steve pulls the blankets over you.
The room fills with quiet conversation while Dustin cradles the baby. He continues to hold her until she begins to squirm, and then eventually cry out.
"Hey, hey... What's wrong, sweet girl?" Steve whispers as Dustin passes the wailing girl to him.
"She sounds hungry." You murmur, a little yawn escaping your lips. Steve glances up at you with a smile as he bounces his daughter. "You can tell by her crying?" He asks, bringing her over to you with a smile.
You nod, taking the little screaming girl into your tired arms. You look at Dustin and Robin, who sort of just stare at you for a moment before understanding what feeding the baby entails.
"Oh! We'll uh-- We'll go wait in the hall." Robin jumps up off the bed, smacking Dustin's arm. He pops up off the bed and follows Robin into the hallway.
You look up at Steve with a big smile. He knows how excited you've been to get to feed the baby for the first time.
Steve cups your cheek tenderly sitting down beside you on the bed as you position Abigail at your chest and pull your hospital gown down below one of your breasts.
Aby quickly finds your nipple, and Steve settles in beside you with the proudest smile on his face. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, his thumb moving back and forth as Abigail lets out little coos.
Steve presses his lips to the side of your head, his brown eyes locked on his little girl happily eating from your breast.
"You're so beautiful. So, so, so beautiful." He whispers against your head. You can just hear how proud he is of you. "Feeding our baby. With your body. After literally pushing her out of you. You're amazing."
You smile, still holding baby Abigail in your arms, knowing that this little family of yours has made your life complete.
This took SO long I started it, then hated it and deleted like half of it, then abandoned it, and then opened it again two days ago and I've been writing a ton so YEAH! Not my proudest work but I really just love dad!Steve because UGH he'd be so amazing
