Hiii first thing first, love all of your work queenâşď¸đ§Ąđđpls pls if itâs ok with you, could you write more girl like female characters for example like nancy or whatever character u like and female reader? Thank you queen !!
Hiii thank you so much! đ¤
and omg⌠yes absolutely. đââď¸
I currently have a nancy x f!reader fic planned, but look forward to writing a lot more wlw fics/drabbles surrounding other characters as they pop into my head (which has been a lot recently lol). Iâm glad thatâs something people want to see as well!
Also, if thereâs any specific pairing/idea you have in mind, my ask box is always open. Much love!
cw: light choking, overstimulation, orgasm delay/denial, established relationship, afab!reader, submissive!gator tillman, p in v intercourse, degradation, use of pet names.
Go to Zero - steve harrington x f!reader
summary: itâs not abnormal for you be left in the Harrington house alone while Steve is at work, but with the oppressive summer heat and boredom that comes with your own day off, you take advantage of the large living room and pop one of Mrs. Harringtonâs home workout vhsâ in the player. Little did you know Robin came to take an afternoon shift, allowing your boyfriend to come home earlier than usual. Cue a turned on Steve thatâs just trying to help you work up even more of a sweat!
Whatâs the Use? (Iâm yours) PT. 2 - Steve Harrington x f!reader
summary: Bumping into your ex-boyfriend at a crowded bar is the worst thing that could have happened to you. Especially when heâs looking at you like that, and you both know thereâs so much that was left unsaid.
Dear Lover - Nancy Wheeler x f!reader
summary: Fleeting glances across the hall and featherlight touches while working on âThe Weekly Streakâ all comes to a head when Nancy invites you to her house for a sleepover.
summary: physical touch is your forte and steve is trying to pretend he doesnât love it
tags: fluff, slightly bitchy!steve, no use of y/n, established relationship, drabble
đ§: I didnât mean to turn you on - cherrelle
In the eyes of Steve Harrington, you could be a total pest. You knew because he told you⌠on multiple occasions.
He would say it in that exasperated Steve way, all huffy with a pout and his large hands resting on his hips. He would always tilt his head just so when he did it, causing that one strand of hair to fall out of its stupidly perfect style and onto his forehead like easy bait.
You quickly came up to your toes and ruffled the front of his hair with a suppressed grin, causing him to groan and swat at your hands.
âThis! This is exactly what Iâm talking about.â
You see, you were a pest because you couldnât keep those hands off of him and it was driving him crazy.
If you were behind him coming up the stairs? You were playfully patting his rear until he reached the top.
âCome on Harrington, double time!â Youâd singsong pleasantly. He always obliged, taking the steps two at a time with his head ducked to hide his smirk.
In the car he could guarantee that your fingers would find the nape of his neck and lightly scratch, sending shivers up his spine.
Then there was the bedâŚ
Every time you both crawled into bed you would instantly press into his side and tuck your cold feet under his legs. Running as hot as he did, the feeling always made him suck in a sharp breath and tighten his arm around your waist.
âShit- do you have to do that every time? Youâre freezing.â
And youâd just move in closer, head on his chest and hand laid over his tummy. Immune to his attitude.
âDuh, youâre warm.â
To Steveâs credit, he really tried to pretend it irritated him further by muttering something like âyeah so are socksââ but then his legs would adjust to better cover your feet and suddenly any argument he had was invalidated.
Any chance you got you were touching him and he was not used to it at all. All of his previous relationships had involved him reaching out, touching, feeling, and giving comfort without asking for any in return no matter how desperately he needed it. Like he was supposed toâ like a good boyfriend.
But then he met you⌠and man, are you seriously blowing his mind.
You who always soothes your hands over his sides when you meet him at the door after work, petting and cooing about how much you missed him. Always reaching out first, leaving his mind blank and his body leaning in for more since he doesnât know how to ask.
âYou know⌠Iâm starting to think you only love me for my bodyâŚâ He joked one day, voice low as your fingers curled into the belt loops of his jeans and tugged him closer. His hands were on your arms, stroking up and down your bare skin slowly while his eyes glanced toward your lips and silently begged for the âwelcome homeâ kiss you always gave him.
âOnly? Oh no, just among other thingsâŚâ
You replied sweetly before bridging the gap and giving him exactly what he wanted.
Hello, I just want to say thank you for welcoming me into this community and showing love to my (small collection of) works so far!
Iâm not a good writer by any means, just a girl with a few ideas rattling around- so the follows, shares, and feedback means a lot! đââď¸đ¤
Iâm a college student entering the last week of my first senior year sem, so my thoughts have just been scribbled out on random pieces of paper and my notes app! But hopefully the part 2 to âWhatâs the Use (Iâm Yours)â, among other things, will be posted soon!
Iâd also like to officially say that my requests/asks are open as well! Feel free to throw some suggestions my way, or just chat! I love to talk if you canât tell⌠lolâŚ
Anywayyy thatâs all from me! I figured Iâd give my official statement from the penthouse!! đ¤đ
FWB!Steve Harrington x f!reader, where youâre both tipsy and giggling in the Wheelerâs basement. Thereâs plenty of space on the couch but youâre pressed against the corner of it anyway, you perched lazily on Steveâs lap while his arms are loosely wrapped around your waist.
Youâre both leaning in close, faces flushed and eyes hazy. Youâre whispering secrets only you two will understand in your altered state, ignoring the eyes that occasionally drift in your direction from your friends.
Your arms are around his neck, forearms weighing on his traps as his mouth moves in to nip and kiss lightly at your jaw. The sensation makes you laugh quietly, a gentle hand coming to press against his chest as you squirm away out of oversensitivity and embarrassment.
You gasp. âYouâre insatiableâŚâ
âCan you blame me, baby? You look so damn good right nowâŚâ
He just looks up at you through heavy lids with some drunken semblance of a cocky smile tugging at his lips. He keeps leaning in, and you keep leaning away with stifled giggles until your head eventually tips back with a squeal.
âYes-! Yes, I can! Iâm trying to listen to Eddieâs story and youâre being a bad boyâŚâ
You reply breathlessly, meeting his gaze, pointer finger tracing down the bridge of his nose as he pouts. Your arm secured itself tighter around his neck at the sight of it. Your heart swells at the implication.
âAwâŚâ
Steve tuts playfully, one hand brushing a stray hair off your cheek and tucking it behind your ear while the other finds the outside of your thigh. Heâs anchoring you in and pulling you closer against his front- an innocent gesture that could look protective to the naked eye, but you know the possessive nature of it.
âYouâre breakinâ my heartâŚ.â
Then heâs leaning close again, eyes shutting and lips brushing yours. Heâs barely there, featherlight. Heâs waiting for you to finish it- this little game you started upstairs, the one where you gave him the most intense âbedroom eyesâ heâs ever seen over the rim of your solo cup from across the kitchen. In front of your friends. Driving him crazy until you were both drunk enough to cross the line when the party moved to the basement.
You hum petulantly, like youâre really having to think about kissing him back before you actually do- lips firming against his while your fingers dance across his cheek and neck.
And by the time you both pull away, youâre practically vibrating with want and Steveâs already thinking of a barely coherent excuse for why you need to leave together.
ââââââââ
a short and sweet imagine that I HAD to get out of my system right here, right now.
I loveeee love drunk (and actually drunk) Steve. Heâs a totally touch starved brat. Lol. đ¤
summary: a very very short list of of nancy wheeler x carol perkins imagines with some soft yearning alluding to first wlw crushes
I miss my girls⌠đ
eyes meeting with soft smiles across the quarry while tommyâs arm is slung over carolâs shoulders and steve is too busy ranting about a teacher he swears is out to get him⌠nancy raising her hand to give a shy wave before carol quickly turns her head away, teeth digging into her lower lip.
âââââ
carol approaching nancy by her locker full of fake confidence and nonchalance, popping her cinnamon gum in her mouth, hands in the pockets of her bright puffer coat just to invite her to go dress shopping for her cousinâs wedding.
âlike, only if you want. you totally donât have to- Iâm just so sick of the boys right now.â
with a quick shrug like nancyâs answer doesnât mean everything to her while averting her gaze to her dusty keds.
âââââ-
nancy sliding her strawberry shake across the table at the diner after school, an eager look on her face as she watches carolâs lips curl up wryly.
âyou trying to give me cooties, princess wheeler?â
nancy acting coy and fluttering those way-too-long lashes in the redheads direction. a small puff of laughter easily passing through her shiny lips.
âif thatâs what you want to call it. just try it, itâs good.â
carol not even liking strawberry that much but pulling the glass closer and closing her lips around the straw, eyes never once leaving nancyâs expectant gaze as she takes a sip. pulling away and swiping her tongue over her lips- like she could catch a hint of nancyâs cherry chapstick off the straw through the artificial strawberry if she tried hard enough.
summary: a little fic/imagine about showering with your boyfriend, steve harrington.
tags: body worship, non-sexual nudity/intimacy, brief mention of NSFW, reader is AFAB, canon complaint (takes place post s4), mentions of scars, I need more scarred up steve.
đ§: islands - kajagoogoo
You love showering with Steve.
Watching him carelessly pull his clothes off of his body before carefully stripping you out of yours and neatly folding them over each other the best he can, laying them on top of the counter while his own are clumsily kicked behind the door.
You love when he guides you to step over the rim of the tub, his hand lightly resting on your lower back as he follows close behind and slides the glass door shut.
The ritual of him trailing his eager fingers over your exposed skin and kissing along your neck, all while you blindly reach behind him to turn the water on. You donât even mind the icy spray that immediately shoots out anymore, just using it as an excuse to huddle closer to the chest of your human furnace of a boyfriend, allowing him to willingly take the brunt of it against his broad back until it eventually warms up.
You love how the moist air makes his chest hair stick to him, running your gentle fingers through it slowly while he leans his head back under the tepid water with fluttering lids and a soft groan, his hands clinging to your hips- fingers massaging into your flesh.
You always take a little extra time lathering your hands up with the coconut shampoo you know he loves, letting him bow his head and come to you. You kiss the tip of his nose every time, the wet smack emphasized by the warm droplets running all over the both of you, before slowly rubbing soap into his thick hair.
Sometimes, if heâs really good that day, youâll slide your fingers down to the base of his skull and knead into the skin there- just the way he likes after a long week. You savor his pleasant sighs and the way his head moves this way and that, wherever you want him to go as long as you keep touching him.
Steve loves returning the favor.
He always rinses his hair as quickly as he can, just so he can bring a hand up to lift your chin between his pointer and thumb, and kiss you all soft and slow. A thank you for taking care of him when nobody else will.
Sometimes he gets distracted by your hands coming back up to the short strands near his neck, scratching and pulling, getting too lost in the closeness of it all and running his tongue along your bottom lip for more instead of immediately grabbing the shampoo bottle. You donât mind much, since usually those are the days that you are extra good, so you know the reward is always worth the wait.
After getting his fill of you, he spins you under the shower head, and slowly lathers your scalp up until it is nearly impossible to see your hair underneath all of the shampoo. Heâs diligent like that, always putting in all his effort no matter how menial the task. It makes your heart swell.
You watch his concentrated face in adoration every single time, making him flush and mumble embarrassed little quips like: âdonât look at me like thatâŚâ, while he shields your face from the sudsy water with his hand on your forehead, and meticulously rinses your tresses.
You both love to wash each otherâs bodies.
Your fingers always take their time trailing soap all over his tan shoulders, arms, chest, and torso. He never admits it out loud, but he sometimes tears up when you linger a little longer on his sides and trace the sensitive skin of his raised scars. Like heâs something special. Someone deserving.
You always notice, but only smile slowly to yourself, not wanting to make him more self conscious than he already is.
He takes his time washing you too. His thick fingers always stop along the way to massage all of the tension from your body- hating how wound up you became after entering his life. Itâs not his fault, he knows because you tell him so, but he still looks forward to making it up to you in any way he can.
You often let out little whimpers and moans, bracing yourself against him when thereâs a particularly nasty knot, but he always coaxes you through it with low, syrupy whispers against your ear.
âShh⌠youâre doing so good baby.â
âThatâs it, just let me take care of you.â
You always do, and he always chuckles quietly to himself afterwards, bemused with how you turn so pliant under his touch.
Your hands always move lower after that, covering every inch of him in vanilla bar soap. His strong thighs, calves, everywhere.
He always says your name so sweetly when you pass over his length, cup his balls, making you blush and lightly dig your teeth into your bottom lip.
âNot tonight, Stevie, just let me take care of you.â You echo back to him sometimes, knowing how eager he is to please, to show you how much you mean to him in the only way he knew how for a while.
Usually, you let him, knowing it soothes a deep part of him you never press him to confront. He is a creature of habit, as are you, but sometimes you want him to know he doesnât have to perform for you. That you love him for his thoughtfulness, bravery, and praise the body that kept him safe when you werenât there to do it yourself.
He doesnât really understand it, but he lets you guide him in whatever direction you want to go, accepting either outcome as long as youâre happy. Whether that be you moving his fingers lower to slide between your slick folds, or him innocently smoothing body wash down your legs. He greedily takes what youâre willing to give.
Once the steam gets to be too much and the water starts to chill, you turn the faucet off and move to wrap your arms around his neck, inhaling deeply against the warmth of his wet pulse to take in the smell of him before you pull your head back.
You always give him three kisses;
One to his jaw, another to the corner of his mouth, and the last to his lips.
He always squeezes his own arms tightly around your torso and smiles as you do so, big brown eyes half lidded and hazy with the temptation of sleep while he kisses you back earnestly.
And you stay like that for a moment, comfortable and quiet in each otherâs arms.
summary: itâs 1986, your senior year of highschool when you start going steady with steve âthe hairâ harrington. it was sweet at first, but soon he starts blowing you off and lying about the reasons why. after being late to pick you up for one date too many, things reach a boiling point and you break up with him after four months of calling it official. emotionally wounded, you visit the local dive bar for college weekend in hopes of a distraction.
tags: angst (eventual comfort), no use of y/n, cursing, yelling, drinking/drunk character, steve harrington crying in 4k, loosely canon compliant (season 4), reader has no idea steve is literally trying to prevent the world from splitting in fours, just assumes he doesnât want to be with her anymore. this is more reader centric btw.
extra: ok I know I said I probably wonât write many multi-part fics, but if this is well received enough I might! I just wanted to write some angst- so the breakup section is hefty. đââď¸đ
The bar was packed.
âPerryâs Brewâ, the little dive tucked halfway between Hawkins and the city, was typically quiet. The only occupants that ever frequented it were whatever poor souls had to stop and take a quick road trip piss and old pool shooters who needed reprieve somewhere with cheap beer and a smoking section.
But college weekenders home from State for the holidays brought the promise of something fun and exciting- drawing out damn near half of Hawkinsâ High and their terribly made fake IDs. You being one of the many practically knocking down the doors to get in, craving the heat of bodies clumsily skirting around your own and the disorienting sound of Rod Stewart pounding in your ears.
Now, you werenât typically one to shy away from a good time, especially since there werenât many opportunities to have one in a small town like Hawkins. However, your weekends for the past few months had looked a little- no, a lot different than this. Tonight? You were completely out of practice.
Instead of putting on the tightest, smallest dress you owned and hopping into Heather Hollowayâs Volkswagen with a poorly concealed alcoholic abomination in a used water bottle- youâd normally be prancing down your driveway to an all too familiar BMW, and settling into the warmth of a pre-heated seat. All courtesy of your boyfriend; Steve Harrington.
Well, ex-boyfriend.
You and Steve broke it off exactly one week ago today. The catalyst was totally ridiculous, youâll admit, but the build up was anything but (in your humble and totally not jaded opinion).
It was the lying and sneaking around that finally got to you. He was always disappearing, never answering the phone when you called and making up strange excuses when he suddenly decided to show face again.
âBaby, I really am sorry⌠I just got- caught up, yâknow?â
âThe kids needed me, sweetheart. You know how they are.â
âI had to cover for Robin at Family Video, she got sick⌠again.â
âNance called, she was worried about Jonathan.â
These were the appeals and stories you were met with on the days he finally made an appearance on your front porch, those Harrington puppy eyes searching your face for any semblance of forgiveness before you eventually conceded and let him in.
You always let him in.
That was, until you saw Robin behind the counter of Family Video on your way to drop off the tape you rented the week prior. Until the day the kids frantically stopped you to ask where Steve was on the way to your car across the school parking lot. Until he ran out of things to say.
At first you were worried.
Then, concerned.
Finally, exasperated.
âIâm so, so sorry.â
Thatâs all he could muster the night you brutally dumped him- all dressed up in your favorite alaĂŻa dress and waiting for over an hour on the worn leather of your living room couch for a date he promised heâd take you on when he picked you up from cheer practice last Wednesday.
You heard him before you saw him, ears picking up the whine of his tires against your driveway in retaliation to the engine cutting off before the car was fully stopped. Next you heard the door quickly shut, followed by his frantic steps up to your porch and a few quick knocks.
You had half a mind to leave him there knocking in the cold, but the other half of you was too angry. Too hurt. Too antsy to give him a piece of your mind.
With an annoyed huff you tossed your clutch haphazardly onto the coffee table and stood, hands quickly smoothing your dress back down from where it had ridden up during your wait.
Steve didnât relent, continuing to knock and groan from the other side of the door.
âCome on, baby! Please open the door, itâs only 9 oâclock! We could still make it if we-â
It was then you decided to stomp over and pull the door open with so much force that you swore it almost took you with it.
He stopped immediately, a mix of relief and nervousness lifting the corner of his lips into a cautious, lopsided smile as his eyes finally landed on your rigid form.
You didnât speak for a while, instead letting your glare rove over his body with your arms crossed below your chest. Like you were closing yourself off from him and he felt it, smile slowly fading.
He wasnât even ready.
Steve Harrington showed up to your doorstep an hour late in grass-stained Leviâs, his beat up Nikes, and the polo he was wearing earlier that day when he came to visit you at work.
Your jaw ticked and you eventually scoffed, your head shaking in disbelief. You couldnât even look at him, instead choosing to stare down at the black kitten heels covering your feet. Anything to avoid the syrupy Harrington eyes that normally made you melt.
No, he wonât get away with it.
You wonât give in this time.
Thatâs officially when he said it,
âIâm so, so sorry.â
With that hangdog look, all timid and sincere like he was trying to coax a venomous snake from its burrow.
His right hand anxiously passed through his messy strands while the left raised to stroke the soft skin of your forearm gently- apologetic.
You were ashamed of how it completely devolved from there.
What started as irritated utterances of how he was âtotally unbelievableâ eventually turned unkind- your temper and frustration reaching a boiling point the more he tried to defend himself.
You didnât remember everything you told him on your porch that night- you just know that it was mean and something to the extent of;
âI canât do this anymore.â
âItâs like you donât even care.â
âWell you donât need to worry about being on time from now on-â
And finally,
âWeâre over.â
All while he was bent to your level trying to meet your teary gaze with his own- big hands touching your face, petting your hair, just begging you to please look at him.
âOver? Honey- wait, what are you saying?â
âIâm saying I canât take it anymore, Steve! All of the missed dinners, the lies- I mean, do you just expect me to wait around while you fuck off everyday and do god knows what? Like Iâm supposed to just be okay?!â
Your breath was heaving at this point, and your hurt stare was boring into him as you brought your hands up to cover his own on both sides of your face, interrupting his attempts to wipe the tears that spilled onto your rosy cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.
Still so patient and kind, trying to comfort you in the midst of his own confused heartache.
Maybe thatâs why, despite your vexation, the warmth of his touch managed to ground you- made you realize that you were beginning to slip into more dangerous territory than you were in right now. That you needed to just quit while you were ahead.
A beat passed.
When he didnât speak, you took it as a sign to continue. With a shuddering breath you purposefully averted your eyes to look at the mole you loved to kiss on his cheek, instead of his sad countenance. Like itâd make this next part easier for you somehow.
âSteve, I just⌠Iâm at my wits end⌠I canât be with you if itâs going to be like thisâŚâ
You rasped, thumbs idly stroking over the back of his hands like you were savoring the feel of them one last time before eventually guiding them away from your body.
And god, his heartbreak was palpable.
You were convinced that if you looked hard enough, youâd be able to see it as some sort of physical entity looming over him.
Which is why it surprised you when he managed to steadily straighten up and slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. Almost as if to keep himself from reaching out to you again.
He then sniffled, lips pressing into a thin line as he quickly turned his head away from you. Steve needed to find something- anything else to focus on. Your momsâ pansies in the front garden, the odd shaped rock kicked onto your walkway, the still air; because if he spared even one glance, heâd be at your feet and on his knees in seconds- crying and begging like a child while spilling secrets he knew he couldnât tell you.
âSo⌠thatâs it? Youâre leaving me?â
That was it.
Four months ended that night with Steve Harrington storming back to his car, fingers swiping under his pink nose as he peeled out of the driveway, while you slammed the front door and refused to watch him go.
âââââ
Fast forward one tearful, ice-cream-filled week later and here you were, flushed and tipsy against the dirty wall outside of Perryâs bathroom the following Saturday. You were one beer and two lemon drops (with hardly any lemon) in- an attempt at trying to quell the devastation of losing your first real boyfriend- and finally starting to feel somewhat like a real person again.
Youâd have to thank Heather for dragging you out, you think to yourself. If it werenât for the mounting looks of pity she gave you every time she came over, you probably wouldnât have felt embarrassed enough to strip out of the dirty old gym shirt Steve left behind and join the land of the living.
Speaking of Heather- she should have come out by now⌠Twenty minutes ago she leaned clumsily over the two top you shared and hollered something about having to pee.
You moved to your tip-toes, scanning over the crowd and thick smoke in front of you the best you could. There was only one bathroom⌠Maybe you just missed her?
Your brows furrowed as you came back down to your heels, suddenly letting out a quiet gasp before your hand flew back to quickly steady your wobbling legs as you did so.
âGeez, I almost ate it thereâŚâ
You slurred to yourself, a small giggle slipping past your smiling lips.
It was then that you heard the bathroom door open behind you and let out a whine of relief, immediately turning around.
âOh my god, finally! I was seriously starting to think that I lost you-â
You were cut off by the feeling of a broad chest against you, the smell of cedar, and warm hands on your shoulders that were far too big to belong to your friend. Your own hands immediately found stability against the strangersâ arms as you stumbled your way through an apology.
âOh- Iâm so sorry! I totally thought you were my friend, are you okay? Let me buy you a drink to make up for it!â
You were bubbly, laughing off your mistake as you quickly regained your balance and stepped back to look up at the man in front of you- about to speak again when suddenly all of the words immediately died on your tongue.
Staring down at you with his hands still hovering over your shoulders, was none other than Steve. Your ex-boyfriend, Steve. Your Steve, looking just as stunned as you are, body tense but not pulling away.
âUh- heyâŚâ
â-âââââ
thanks for the love on my prior work! tonight, I give you mild angst. might make this a part 2, who knows! let me know your thoughts.
summary: a short sfw drabble surrounding billy hargrove and feelings of guilt, self-deprecation, and (of course) longing while waking up the morning after with you. slight character study if you squint super duper hard. fwb relationship implied.
đ§: Too Late Marlene - Duran Duran
_______________
It felt wrong; waking up on top of pink satin and wrapped in a flowery cotton duvet belonging to a girl who was far too nice and warm.
It was wrong. He didn't deserve to wake up in such a lovely way.
Didnât deserve to have the girl beside him stroking her long, pretty fingers through his tangled curls. Or to be pressed against her neck, smelling the rosy perfume he watched her dab beneath her ears in this very room the night before.
It was too sticky sweet, too good for Billy Hargrove
This was way better than what he deserved.
He was supposed to be rough- all hard edges, sarcastic quips, and gone by morning. Thatâs how heâs always been, and how it should be with her.
So why was he finding it almost gut-wrenching to untangle their legs? To take his hands off her hips? Remove himself from her soft skin and body heat?
âHey sleepyhead, are you awake?â
Her voice was quiet, laced with sleep and thinly veiled humor as she felt him tense in her arms. She knew he was, she always knew. Yet he still couldnât find it in himself to open his eyes and possibly shatter the illusion that he, Billy Hargrove, could have something akin to pure bliss.
And like always, she didnât press him for more than what she knew he could give. Just let the weight of her tender gaze settle over the top of his head and opted to pull him closer.
Unrelenting understanding and patience that reminded him yet again, that he didnât deserve her.
