a/n: this isn't a whore house; it's a whore home <3 feel free to drop your thots or drabble requests into my mailbox! 18+, mdni
steve harrington can get so vocal in bed sometimes that you get second-hand embarrassment in pity of your poor neighbors.
when you two first moved into your first apartment together, you obviously had to christen it by fucking against any feasible surface. steve was just so excited that you two didn't have to sneak around parents, co-workers, or friends just to get some privacy. the next morning, you received a noise complaint in your mailbox. he chopped it up to some nosy neighbor being upset about having a younger couple in the building. but when you receive a second and even a third notice not even two weeks later, you realize that you've got to figure out how to either sound proof your apartment or get steve to quiet down.
he's home late from work one night, frustration etched into his brow. instead of moping, though, he's relaxing against the couch while you bounce on his dick to relieve the stress of the day. it small whimpers and groans, at first. maybe he's just too tired to be more vocal?
wrong.
when the coil in your lower stomach starts to tighten and your pussy flutters around his shaft, he releases a strangled moan. it was a slip, really. he just gets lost in the delirious pleasure only your cunt can provide.
so you keep going as steve's teeth sink into his plump bottom lip, silencing himself to grunts and gasps. his hips buck on their own accord, which is fine until his hands settle on your hips while pistoning up into you. now both of you are moaning messes, teetering on the edge of any orgasm. steve can't bite his lip to stop the loud pants falling from his tongue. you raise a shaky palm to cover his mouth in an attempt to prevent another noise complaint.
but when your pussy begins to spasm at the intensity of you orgasm, not even your hand can reduce the volume of his vocalized satisfaction.
summary: Steve and Dustin were not on the best of terms right now. It left a strain not only on their friendship, but also on your own relationship with your boyfriend. It wasn't easy to be there for both of them and understand their respective points of view. Yet when that famous Henderson attitude pokes the bear one too many times, your boyfriend knows of better ways to put your mouth to use.
word count: 3.1k
a/n: heavy smut, mdni 18+, blowjobs, Henderson!reader, mean!Steve, degradation, praise, vulgar language, sloppy top, little angst, afab! or female!reader though could be gn!reader, semi-public smut, no beta
To say the past year and a half had been difficult would be the understatement of the century. Between being quarantined in Hawkins with no end in sight, the numerous crawls to scout Vecna, and many unsaid things in the air, everything was constantly tense. Living so close to the end of the world kept everyone on edge. The military’s arrival had cut short any period of mourning for everyone. It wasn’t just one person in particular; everyone in the party was suffering through their own shitty circumstances. And yet, the hardest task of all was playing middleman in the battles of constant bickering and miscommunication.
With another technical issue with the tower's frequency, Steve immediately left you alone to search for the manual in the green room by yourself. He had a habit of asking others to tell him how to fix his problems, which was equally endearing and frustrating. From the other room, you heard Steve slam the antenna back into the walkie.
Your head poked around from the doorway with an inquisitive glance. Steve immediately spotted you, and you could tell from his posture that he was aggrieved. It was becoming more difficult to ignore the growing rift between Steve and your brother with each passing day.
“You heard his tone, right?” Steve set the walkie aside. He paced around the lounge, “He can never admit that he’s wrong, it’s just so-”
“Frustrating?” You cut in, “I know, babe. You keep going in circles.”
“Because the kid is driving me crazy,” He huffed and ran a hand through his brunette hair, “And he doesn’t listen. Not just to me, but to anyone.”
A sigh escaped past your lips. Steve was right. Dustin’s spark had dulled since Eddie’s untimely death, and his eyes lacked their usual bright curiosity. It was… painful, to say the least. You never wanted to pressure your little brother, yet at the same time, you so desperately wished he would open up to someone.
“I get it, I do. It’s rough, but you need to watch how you talk to him.” Your hand came to rub against the back of your neck, “He’s having a hard time.”
“How I talk to him? Babe, you can’t think that I’m the problem.”
“I’m not saying you’re the problem, but I mean, you have this… tone when you talk to him. I mean, do you listen to yourself, or do you have to be told everything?” You pointed out as he came to a halt in front of you. Steve gave you his signature look of confusion, and you had to force yourself not to roll your eyes. You stood from the couch, “Don’t give me that look.”
“I’m not giving you a look,” Steve grumbled, “... And I don’t have a tone.”
“Oh, really?” You cocked your head to the side in disbelief, “Because now you’re giving me that look and attitude.”
He took a half step closer, “You’re wrong—”
“And your humility is out the window, too, it seems.” You shook your head and pressed further, “So tell me again how this little quarrel between you and Dustin is just him being a moody teenager.”
His brow furrowed at the underhanded accusation, “So now I’m the problem? Don’t act like I haven’t been trying to get through to him.”
As much as you loved Steve, he did have a terrible habit of becoming defensive. It was this silent need to shift the blame from himself, a way to evade being labeled a bad guy again. He cared, but it wasn’t easy to be so empathetic with each verbal lashing from Dustin.
When you didn’t immediately reply, the frown lines on his forehead deepened, “So you think it’s my fault.”
The accusation stung. Because when the three of you crawled out of that hellhole with Nancy and Robin last year, Steve did feel this deep-seated guilt because he couldn’t get back to the gate fast enough to save Eddie. When Steve had pried Dustin off Eddie’s body, and explained that they couldn’t safely get his body back to the Right Side up. He took care of Dustin while Nancy and Robin addressed your wounds from the demobats. It was Steve who sat with Dustin for hours as he sobbed, while you sat shell-shocked in your bedroom.
“No, no,” You sputtered out in an attempt to get through to him before his walls went up, “But… you’re an adult, and- and he’s a kid who lost his best friend—”
“His best friend?”
His tone made you cringe, and it was clear that Steve had no interest in de-escalating the argument. With a sigh, you clarified, “One of them. Obviously. He’d be just as distraught if he lost anyone in the party, or me, or you. C’mon, don’t be so dense, Steve.”
And that was just the cherry on top for Steve. The floodgates of his frustrations were now open, except instead of Robin calming him or Dustin arguing back, it was all directed at you.
“Of course you’re taking his side. ‘Henderson’s stick together’ or whatever bullshit it is you say to make yourselves feel better,” He griped and leaned against the wall.
Your eyes widened at his remark, “Excuse me?”
“You’re excused,” Steve scoffed and started up the stairs towards his bedroom on the upper floor of the station.
You gawked at him and the sheer audacity. Your eyes narrowed as you glared up at him, “Why are you being so bitchy?”
Steve simply scoffed and rolled his eyes, as if giving a response to the question was beneath him. He paused midflight, hand on his hip as he met your stern gaze, “Bitchy? That’s rich coming from you, princess.”
When you couldn’t respond fast enough, he continued to slink up the stairs. Defeat settled in your stomach. You didn’t want to provoke the issue further when it was clear neither of you would reach a consensus. Instead, you retreated outside to catch some fresh air.
— — — — —
It was time for the evening broadcast at The Sqwuak, which meant observing another intrinsic dance between Robin and Steve. While Robin queued up the next track, she was giving another one of her beloved anecdotes to the townfolk of Hawkins. Behind her, Steve moved with a practiced agility; his eyes moving between Robin, the soundboard, and, occasionally, you. Steve was typically so fluid with his movements, but tonight he was rigid, almost like he couldn’t get off the airwaves fast enough to go back upstairs and pout.
After another harsh glance in your direction from your brown-eyed lover, you’d had enough. They clearly had everything handled, and the broadcast was nearly over anyway. It was obvious they didn’t require the assistance of their handy radio technician.
You swiftly moved into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea before bed. As the water boiled, you turned off the PA systems that you had patched in. You just need one moment of silence to yourself, without the rest of the world ending, boyfriend troubles happening around you. And for a couple of minutes, it was peaceful. The smell of camomile tea leaves wafted from your mug, and you permitted your shoulders to sag for a moment.
But a moment was all he needed to piss you off again.
“Why did you leave your station?” Steve swiftly entered the kitchen. His hands settled onto his hips as he looked at you in disbelief.
Your brows furrowed at his incredulous tone, “My station? Please, this isn’t the Big Mac.”
“The MAC-Z,” He was quick to correct you, “And you need to start taking things more seriously. I mean, what if something happened and the signal went down but you weren’t there to just… fix it.”
“Well, I would hope that you and Robin could utilize your one shared braincell in a moment of panic,” You scoffed in return, “I can’t always be there to solve your problems for you, Steve.”
You expected a jab, sneer, or any kind of retort, really. But a stiff silence filled the kitchen instead. Your eyes flicked across his frozen frame, noticing each little detail. The way he clenched his jaw, his right hip slightly jutted, the scowl sketched into his brow. Something ignited in your chest from that smoldering gaze. It was unfair to look so good when you were at each other’s throats.
“You Hendersons…” He hums lowly. His brown eyes darken, pupils dilated as they flick over your frame, “Can’t fix his attitude. But I know how to take care of yours.”
Something warmed in your stomach from his intense gaze and the touch of trouble in his tone. Your mouth parted to respond, but the whistle of the kettle cut you off. With a slight shake in your hand, you grabbed the mug, and you pulled it off the burner. As your tea bag steeped, two large hands settled on your sides, his hips pressed firmly against your lower back.
“You still upset that we had to cancel date night for the last crawl?” He mumbled the question as his nose grazed over your ear.
A chuff sounded under your breath, “I’m not mad that we canceled, but… it feels like you’re not concerned about rescheduling.”
“I’m plenty concerned,” Steve gritted out, “But my biggest concern is keeping you and the kids safe. And both you and your brother give me shit for that. Date night out isn’t always the safest, but I can make sure your needs are still met, honey.”
His hand dipped to tease at the waistband of your jeans. A light gasp breathlessly escaped you as he nipped at the shell of your ear, “I think you’re pissing me off and starting arguments on purpose. Is that it? I didn’t give you enough attention, so you gotta pout like a brat?”
“I’m hardly pouting, Steven,” You lightly shoved at his forearms, just needing an inch of space to breathe. A low growl escaped him as you used his full name, “We wouldn’t be arguing if you just took some initiative. And I’m not just talking about the date.”
“I take initiative, quit acting like I’m some manchild,” Steve glowered down at you.
“Then quit being one,” You sharply retorted, your quick tongue only getting you further into trouble.
His jaw tensed once more, “So that’s how it’s gonna be? I tried to redirect, but you’re so damn insistent, fucking nagging me on.”
Your eyes widened as Steve’s sass turned vulgar, “Watch your mouth. You wouldn’t be talking like that if—”
“Shut up,” He cut you off as he spun you around. His hips pinned you against the cabinets, “You keep running your pretty little mouth a little too much. Maybe the quarantine’s got you stir crazy, or the crawls are getting to you, but I’m gonna take care of that mouth of yours.”
Steve tapped your thigh twice as he grunted out a sharp request, Knees. And who were you to argue with a man who looked like he was using all his restraint not to just pounce on you and truly ruin you? Sinking to the concrete floor, your hands came to rest on each of his jean-clad thighs. Your fingers gingerly grazed the outline of his prominent bulge.
“This for me?” Your eyes flicked up to his face with the joke, but his brown eyes continued to bore into your skull.
“Thought I told you to shut up,” Steve grunted, “But that’s okay, honey. You’re gonna apologize by taking care of me like you always do, huh?”
His hands moved to undo the zipper of his jeans, but his gaze never wavered from your face. It kept you frozen, though desire began to pool in your lower stomach. You leaned forward, your nose grazing against his knuckle and down to brush against his bulge through his briefs. You took in his heady sent, but Steve’s firm hand captured your chin before you could continue.
“Don’t act so greedy, honey,” He snarled as he forced your head back up, meeting your needy eyes once more. The sight almost made him moan, but he swallowed in down with an easy smirk, “You’re acting desperate. Was that the issue? I didn’t give you enough attention and now you’ve got to give me attitude. Are you a child?”
You blinked up at him, surprised by the shift in Steve’s demeanor.
“That wasn’t a rhetorical question, sweetheart.” His fingers tightened on your jaw.
“No…” You responded with a shaky breath.
“No,” He repeated in a mocking tone, “Could’ve fooled me. Acting worse than your brother, been a real brat to me all day—”
You interjected, “Don’t act like you—”
But you couldn’t finish your retort as Steve’s large hands moved to cover your mouth, “God, you just never stop running this pretty little mouth. You need something to keep you quiet.”
His hips jutted words, grinding against your face so that you could take in his musky scent. You lapped at his bulge, your saliva leaving a wet patch.
“You want more, honey?” His other hand moved to release his cock from the restraint of the briefs. His length stood proud, the tip an angry red, leaking with precum. His hand pulled back, and his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, admiring your wide eyes watching his aching cock.
“I’m gonna take care of this bratty attitude,” Steve stated, “But you know what to do if it’s too much, honey.”
You eagerly nodded, a secret promise to use the safe word if things went too far.
Steve didn’t need to second-guess himself, knowing that part of you liked getting in trouble like this and making it up to him. But what really got him was the way your pupils dilated each time his tone or words got a little too sharp.
Your fingers held supported the tip of his cock while your tongue worked its way up from the base. A grunt escaped past Steve’s gritted teeth as you traced along the prominent vein. Another followed when you swirled your tongue around the tip and across the slit. His salty taste was heavy on your tongue.
“Don’t tease, honey. I know you want to take all of me in your mouth, practically choke yourself on my cock,” His fingers slid through the roots of your hair to grip the stands at the back of your head. “That’s why you’ve been so mouthy.”
He firmly tugged your head back, your jaw slackened with a gasp, “Steve—”
“Shut up,” Steve snarled. He lightly began to rut his hips, his cock prodding at your lips and face. You stuck out your tongue, mouthing at him from any angle you could access. The sight was incredibly lewd, the way his cock continued to smear your spit and his essence across your face. His cocky smirk returned as he examined your appearance, “God, all you needed was some dick. Acting like a bitch in heat. Keep going.”
And you didn’t have to be told twice. Steve’s words of encouragement spurred you to take things further. Your right hand trailed up the inseam of his jeans, fingers ghosting the length of his thigh. When you took the tip into your mouth again, your hand moved to cup his balls, gently fondling them. His hips stuttered, wanting to force you to take more, but knowing you needed to get adjusted to the weight of him in your mouth.
“Relax your jaw,” He ordered, his nails scratching against your scalp. Steve made small rocking movements, the tip of his length bruising against the back of your throat. Drool started to pool at the corners of your lips, collecting to ease the intrusion of his cock. He soon pushed your head to take more of his impressive length down your throat.
When the pressure of him was too much, you patted his thigh as your hand lightly squeezed his balls. Your mouth came off with a soft pop as you caught your breath for a moment. Your free hand continued to pump his length, eyes steady on each other.
Steve’s fingers caught your chin, “Open wide.”
You did as he commanded, your pink tongue peeking out at your head tilted back. Steve bent over you, face hovering above yours. A string of saliva poured from his lips and onto your awaiting tongue. His foot moved between your thighs, the toe of his boot firm against your clothed core, “Show me how sorry you are. Show me that you’re not such a fucking brat all the damn time.”
You began to rock your hips against his boot, chasing a touch of relief. Yet you weren’t paying enough attention to Steve. He pushed your mouth back onto his length, holding your head in place for a moment as you drooled all over his cock. When he felt your throat relax, his guided you up and down his length, your free hand pumping the remainder of what your couldn’t take. As he continued the assault on your mouth, your hips were greedily grinding away against his boot. You both knew the scene of completely obscene, but you were so caught up in the tension of the moment that the lustful mix of frustration and need kept both of you going.
“Fuck. Fuck, honey,” Steve’s thrusts started to become sloppier, shallower. You knew he wouldn't last much longer, and you were determined to make him crumble.
You doubled your efforts, alternating between pumping his cock, greedily sucking, and worshipping his balls. His hands released your hair, gripping at the countertop instead, knuckles white. His grunts had melted away into whines of restraint, restraint that was fading fast. With a few more messy thrusts, Steve’s cum shot down your throat, some of his spend dribbling down your chin as he pulled out.
When Steve returned to his senses, he quickly tucked his length back into his boxers. He took a deep breath and snagged some napkins off the counter. He kneeled to meet your needy gaze, “You alright, sweetheart? Too rough?”
Your eyes flicked across his handsome face. A shaky hand reached to curl your fingers into the material of his sweater, “Green.”
He let out a low chuckle and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. His gentle hands wiped at the corners of your lips, under your nose, and the waterline of your eyes, “There you go, sweetheart.”
“Thank you, Stevie,” you gratefully hummed.
His smirk quickly returned as he let go of you and made his way towards the stairs. When he reached the first step, he paused and glanced back at you, “Are you coming? Or do you have to be told everything?”
word count: 1.5k
summary: when the van breaks down once again, steve needs a little assistance getting it running and remembering exactly who he belongs to.
warnings: light smut, mdni 18+, making out, getting touchy, allusions to semi-public, slightly sub!steve, afab!reader, jealous behaviors, not proofread
It was a casual night out in the van. Both Steve and you had been tasked with driving around the perimeter of the MAC-Z at least once a week in an attempt to catch any outgoing radio transmissions. The task was a feeble hope of finding out whether the military knew anything more about Vecna’s whereabouts or El’s presence. It had been a rather uneventful, quiet time where Steve made the most noise by chewing on a Bopper and softly humming whatever radio hit Robin premiered this morning.
That was until a surge of energy rushed through the van. You attempted to find the power source to prevent the surge as Dustin had instructed before, but it was too late.
“Again? This is the third time, like, this month?” You removed the headset. You had been perched in the back seat, scanning for a frequency that Dustin’s radio had suddenly started picking up. That was until the van began to sputter and came to a rolling stop.
Steve’s forehead came to rest on the steering wheel as he released a heavy sigh, “Jesus Christ.”
“I don’t get why you don’t just ask Murray to bring a new battery on the next supply run,” You suggested.
“Well, I… hadn’t thought of that,” The poor guy sighed and rubbed his face, “We could radio the station for rescue?”
“Or…” Your tone grew teasing as you slinked up into the passenger seat, “We could pop the hood and make out until some poor soul drives by who could give us a jump.”
Steve instantly perked up at your dangerous suggestion, “You always have the best ideas.”
With a sinister smirk, you leaned across Steve’s lap and between his legs. You pushed the seat adjuster bar down to shove his seat back so that you two could have plenty of room. As your hand came back up, it lightly brushed over the prominent bulge in his jeans.
Steve released a shuddering breath at your teasing, “C’mon, honey. Let me just enjoy having you alone for five minutes. Missed just being able to hold my pretty girl.”
His large hands guided you to slot over one of his thighs, where his hold on your hips could keep you firmly planted. Your head dipped down to lightly graze against his Roman nose, the sensation making the heat rise between both of you. One of his hands moved to caress your lower back while his warm breath fanned against your lip.
Without a word, you both leaned into the kiss, lips slotted against each other. You moved in tandem, a steady rhythm settled between you. Your fingers raked through the hair at the nape of his neck before lightly tugging. Steve choked on air, which allowed you full access to his parted lips. His tongue grazed against your own, spurring your hips to buck against his thigh. Both of you chuckled at the reactions you pulled from each other, savoring the delicious intimacy in the air.
Between all of this, Steve began to bounce his leg while guiding your hips to roll against his thigh. Your palm moved from his cheek down to cup his jean-clad length, your fingers giving a playful squeeze. He grunted with desire as his lips trailed open-mouthed kisses, your head lulling to glance out the window. The outside world was cast in a shadowy blue when a golden hue flickered against the trees.
“C-car, car coming,” You had caught the headlights coming down the road when you patted Steve’s thigh. He whined in disappointment as you slid back into the passenger seat. You chuckled, secretly endeared by his eagerness, “Go get ‘em, big boy.”
Steve simply rolled his eyes and chuckled at the nickname. He slid out of the driver’s side, one hand raised to hail the coming driver that they needed assistance. The other hand brushed through his hair to tame it down.
When the new vehicle came to a stop, you took a moment to check it out. It was a mustang, definitely a recent model with a slick black coat of paint. The window slowly rolled down, revealing the mysterious driver.
Unfortunately, you’d recognize those ratty blonde curls from a mile away -- Linda Sewell. Besides being an unpleasant bitch during high school, Linda also had the pleasure of being one of Steve’s failed flings. But from the look in her eyes, you could tell that she still wanted to jump his bones. And who could blame her? Steve was a tall, well-built guy with great humor and a heart of gold.
You couldn’t hear their exchange, but you could infer enough from the scene playing out before you. Steve’s hand casually rested on the car’s windowsill as he chatted with the girl. She twirled a curl around her index fingers, smacking on a wad of gum. Her eyes occasionally dipped down, and it made you want to crawl out of your skin. His shoulders racked with a chuckle, and he passed a hand through his hair. He thumbed back towards the van, obviously explaining how they needed assistance.
While Linda moved her car into position, Steve opened the door to grab the jumper cables. He threw you a smirk and mumbled, “Ten minutes, and we’ll head back to the station.”
Your lips parted to speak, but Linda’s shrill voice called out, “Steve, who’s your friend?”
He left the door open as he rounded the front of the van, “That’s just my lovely radio tech. Now, you were telling me about your new job at…?”
Each exchange of laughter. Each time her hand moved to caress his arm. Each moment he leaned in a little too close for comfort. They all simmered beneath your cool exterior that slowly chipped away with each passing minute. You couldn’t explain why the scene was so painful to watch. He was just making polite conversation with an ex, right?
Eventually, Steve came back to the driver’s seat, blissfully unaware of your internal torment. He flashed you his signature carefree grin before inserting the key into the ignition. You silently prayed that the damn battery was fixed and that you could go the fuck home. The engine revved, and you released a sigh of relief. Steve mumbled something about getting back on the road in a moment once he got the cables put away.
Just as quickly as your relief had come, she quickly snagged it away. Steve had been removing the clamps from her car battery when Linda tucked a small slip of paper into his jeans. Your body stepped out of the car before you could even consider the action.
“Hey Steve,” you called to him, “Can you come check this out? Something funky is happening with the radio?”
You were met with his perpetual look of confusion. And that dumbfounded look only served to aggravate the situation further. With your arms crossed, you expectantly waited for him to follow towards the back of the van.
In your time waiting, you heard the soft voices of Steve thanking Linda one last time. You pulled out your signature lipstick and touched yourself up just a little as he bid farewell. The girl’s flirtatious cackle was cut off when the hood of the van landed with a thud. A moment later, Steve’s footsteps picked up as he jogged to meet you in the back, “What’s the issue, babe? Linda said she’s alright sticking around a couple of minutes to make sure everything’s okay.”
Without answering, your fingers hooked into the belt loop of his jeans. You pulled him closer while your other hand trailed up his chest, only to find purchase on the back of his neck. In one fluid motion, you tugged his lips to meet yours in a heated exchange. The sudden kiss initially frazzled him until he came back to himself, his hands moving to settle against your hips. His thumbs ran eager circles over your hip bones as he fully pressed himself against you. You lightly nipped at his bottom lip before planting one final lipstick kiss on the corner of his lips. The pinkish color left an inexplicable shadow.
“Go tell Linda that we’re all set and she can go home,” You practically ordered him. Steve eagerly nodded, his pupils dilated as he released your hips. Before you let him go, your fingers dug into his pocket to pull out the paper with Linda’s number on it, “And you won’t be needing this.”
Steve shivered as he ran back to tell Linda to leave. You crawled into the back of the van, softly shutting the doors behind you. There was a soft rumble outside the van before you heard Linda’s car rumble and skirt off. Perched on your knees on the carpeted floor of the van, your hands eagerly tugged off your top as Steve furiously pulled the doors open. His jaw dropped at the sight of your frazzled hair, lacy bra, and hungry eyes. You chuckled at sent him a wink, “Well, c’mon, big boy.”
steve harrington is a simple man who craves simple pleasures.
simple pleasures such as suggesting new positions every couple of nights, attempting to perfect each one. it started as a means to change things up and elevate your pleasure. he says it's essential research to make him a better teacher. you say that he's just horny.
but with each new position tried, comes a new fascination with a different part of your body. each time, it feels like he's found something new to worship at the altar of your bed.
at first, he was obsessed with your boobs. that's why both missionary and cowgirl were huge hits at first. he loved being able to mouth at your tits while being lost in the throes of pleasure. which escalated to the need to cradle your breasts when he'd rut into you in the early hours of the morning before you two needed to get up and dressed for the day. he'd grope them and lightly pinch your nipples until your gasping over the edge.
then his hands began to roam down to your stomach. he simply cupped the tender flesh at first, tracing over your skin. yet that quickly disappeared when he firmly pressed his palm against your low abdomen one morning, feeling the swell of himself inside of you.
recently, he'd been handsy with your ass; lightly swatting it when passing by or leaving red handprints that he'd kiss away and praise you over. he loved observing the way you'd fuck yourself back at him with your face pressed into the mattress, hands fisting at the bed sheets. that's how he currently had you, playfully spanking the skin before grabbing a handful - a reward for himself.
tet as you melted beneath him, your back arched, and exhaustion settled into your bones. you were losing the momentum to keep pace. but no worries, steve is happy to help. so he settles his large hands on your hips, ready to assist you and drill further into your needy cunt. but he feels the shift of your hips, how they spread to take him deeper, and it makes something in his go feral.
long after you're spent, he's buried himself between your thighs, peppering kisses and sucking lovebites into the flesh, occasionally nipping at you when he senses you're falling asleep.
steve loves every part of you, because every part of you is something to worship.
a small blurb set between season 4 and 5 where the party slowly begins to realize that you and Steve might be more than friends
"stop looking at me like that," you balled up the dirty cleaning rag and tossed it at his chest. with a shake of your head, you finished tidying the kitchen after getting put on dishes duty with Steve. it was your "punishment" after losing two rounds of UNO to the kids.
he released a breathless laugh as he caught the rag and placed it in the hamper with the other linens, "like what?"
moving towards the dish rack, you began to pat the dishes dry with a new towel and pass them off to Steve. it was easier for the taller man to get them all put away in their proper spot, "the way you just.. sigh and gaze at me. like you've got some secret you need to spill to me."
a nervous chuckle sounded off between the two of you. you handed off a stack of cups to him next, "robin asked me today if you finally did something. now, i don't know what gave her that impression but this... starry-eyed, hopeful look amidst the apocalypse is clearly giving everyone the wrong impression."
Steve briefly paused to mull over your words before he finished off the cups, "the wrong impression?"
"well, yes," you shrugged as if it were obvious.
He grabbed the collection of dinner plates from you, "you think that look is giving the wrong impression? what impression is it giving?"
you huffed as you attempted to find your way around the words, you didn't want to just say it and risk the tension becoming awkward. yet at the same time, if neither of you cleared the air soon, one of the kids or your friends would force it out of you.
"like you're... infatuated with me?"
"infatuated," Steve chuckled and sighed, "I didn't realize teaming up with you at the end of the world would mean we're still avoiding the elephant in the room."
"I didn't know there was an elephant in the room," you tried to play it cool. maybe he would sweep it under the rug again.
Steve's honeyed gaze flicked over your figure leaning against the kitchen counter. he closed the space in two easy strides and gently ducked closer, "I think you do..."
with a shuddering breath, you took a cautious step closer, "people will say we're in love."
"I think Joyce might kill you if you quote Oklahoma again," he lightly teased. one of Steve's large hands settled against your waist as his head dipped down, "but if we're gonna survive this, i'm making sure we both make it out on the other side."
you cocked your head to the side and gave him a gentle grin. with a simple hum, it was easy to agree, "that's alright with me."
let me know if you're interested in me expanding this thought or if you have any requests!
"Hey, Hey Hawkins," Steve's charismatic voice sounds through the radio where you're perched at the hospital. You volunteered to spend the evening watching over Max while Lucas spent quality time with the boys.
You smile at he radio as the broadcast continues. Steve's low voice croons over the airwaves with a touch of exhaustion, "Welcome back to another late-night hour with Stevie-boy. Rockin' Robin will be back for the early bird, but right now, yours truly is spinning the tunes."
His terrible puns make you giggle at his antics. Oh, Steve - ever the charmer.
"I know most of the lovebirds have settled into their nest for the night," He softly continues, "But my lovebird, if you're listening tonight, just know that this next song is just for you..."
As the melody begins to play through the radio, you turn the volume knob up a little bit for you and Max to enjoy together.
enjoy this little pre-season 5 blurb before it drops!
girldad!steve means he gets saturday morning duties. after a long week of dropping off your gaggle of girls to school, dance classes, and soccer practice, it's steve's turn to spend some chaotic time with his little girls.
the smell of coffee pulls you from your slumber, but it's the gentle kiss on your forehead that makes you open your eyes.
"good mornin', mama," steve hums as he set the cup on your nightstand, "breakfast will be ready in 10 minutes. the girls made pancakes."
rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sit up with a giggle, "you mean they burned pancakes and you managed to save what you could..."
you hands fall away from your face as you give him a hopeful look, "... and a kitchen that i don't have to clean?"
he chuckles at that, leaning against the doorframe, "already taken care of, hun."
the sight of him standing there sends a pang of nostalgia through you. when he used to stand in the doorframe of your parents' house while you got ready for a date. back then, he sported a polo, jeans, and some fresh nikes that he kept in pristine condition. but now he opted for a flannel and jeans, with some atrocious sneakers that he labeled to be "practical dad shoes". and down the hall, the patter of feet and gleeful giggles echos towards your bedroom as the girls come searching for their father.
"daddy," your oldest calls out sweetly.
"yeah, princess?" his attention shifts from you in the bed to your daughters in the hallway.
the way his eyes light up in endearing...
... but the moment is short lived as your youngest shouts, "charge!"
steve startles and makes a run for the bed, but he was far too slow. the girls have already attached themselves to him, one girl clinging to each leg. and when he attempts to take a step forward, steve crumbles to his knees. the girls squeal as they dog pile onto their father's back. you can't help but take a moment to enjoy the moment as your daughters' attention cuts up to your bed.
"we did it, mommy! we defeated daddy!" your oldest announces.
steve makes a strangled sound of defeat and plays dead. with a nod of your head, you quickly agree, "yes, you did girls. good job!"
your daughters continue to celebrate when steve quickly gets back on his knees. he's got a girl in each arm, pretending to rise from the dad as he lifts them up, "i live!"
"No!" your girls squeal in unison. as they try to wrestle him back down once more, you sip your coffee, watching the scene playout with a soft smile, soaking in saturday morning with steve and your girls.
quick blurb! steve and reader are exes who just can't get over eachother! steve really is the best girl dad! implied smut at the end! mommy/daddy kink if you squint
"There you go, sweetheart," Steve hummed as he finished braiding his little girl's hair. He patted her head before passing your mirror over to her to see his handiwork, "What do you think?"
Your toddler gasped in excitement as she looked at herself. The grin that spread across her face spoke volumes, "Perfect! Thank you, daddy!"
As you rounded the corner into your living room, you caught sight of your ex and your daughter spending some quality bonding time together. It was a welcome sight to see after a grueling shift at your serving job. When you entered the room, your daughter's eyes instantly lit up, "Mommy!"
"Hey, lovey," You giggled as she came running towards you as you attempted to remove your coat and settle in for the night. As she clung to your legs and babbled about what she and her dad had done that evening, you watched as Steve tidied the living room while she was distracted. Not just her hairbrush and hair ties. But all of her toys she'd randomly pulled out were placed back into her bins, TV off, dishes washed, and... did he light a candle too?
Despite the ups and downs of your relationship with Steve, it had never failed to make you swoon at how attentive he was.
"Thank you again," You called to him while picking up your little girl, cradling her tired body against your frame, "You were a lifesaver after the babysitter canceled.
Steve waved his hand, a signal that he often used to brush things off, "Don't thank me for spending time with my little girl. I just wish my work schedule lined up like this more often so I could see you two more than twice a week."
Your knees nearly buckled as he mentioned seeing both of you, "Still, it was last-minute and if I had called out... well, y'know how Grant can be a real ass about things."
A little giggle erupted from your daughter, "Ass!"
Both your and Steve's eyes went wide as your daughter repeated after you. He could hardly hold himself back from laughing. You rolled your eyes at his antics, "Don't feed into her and get her riled up before bed."
"Sorry, mama," He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck like he wanted to say more. Your knees buckled at the nickname, and if he noticed, he didn't make it known. Steve took a small step forward, his eyes flicked between you and his little girl, "Why don't I get lilbit to bed while you get yourself settled, alright?"
Before you could protest, Steve pulled your daughter from your arms. The toddler slumped into his chest, sleepiness already taking effect after a surprise playdate with daddy. She lifted her head a little to glance back at you, "Can daddy come over again tomorrow?"
You smiled and took a small step forward. With a gentle hand, you carressed her cherub cheeks, "We'll see. Daddy might be busy, sweetheart."
It was a silent agreement you shared with him - neither of you would make a promise to your little girl that you couldn't keep.
"I'll stop by," Steve easily interjected before his eyes cut over to you, "if mama's got the time for me to."
In your shock, you didn't want to correct him or upset her before bed. Instead, you gave a soft smile and a reassuring pat to her cheek, "We'll see."
"C'mon, lilbit," Steve kissed her cheek and sauntered down the hall with your little girl in his arms.
With your surprise free time, you quickly stripped out of your uniform and into something cozy. And as you headed out of your bedroom to check in on the bedtime routine, Steve was stepping out of your daughter's room, closing the door behind him.
"She out?"
"Like a light," he rasped, "And I guess that's my cue to go too."
Both of you gave each other a polite smile, neither quite knowing how to say goodnight. Steve nodded, choosing to be a gentleman and see himself out. As his figure retreated down the hall, you watched him go and thought over the small picture of domesticity you saw tonight.
Taking a deep breath, you followed behind him with a whisper of his name, "Steve..."
"Yeah?" He glanced back at you from the coat rack by the door. His arms were halfway in one sleeve as he prepared to finish sliding the garment on.
You bit your lip, contemplating the action, but your body followed through without thought. Once you approached him, you helped him take the jacket off again and tossed it back on the coat rack, "I was hoping that I could have my own playdate with daddy..."
Steve smirked at the innuendo and feigned indifference. At the while, one of his arms wrapped around your side and tugged you closer, "Oh, yeah? Did you miss daddy too?"
You rolled your eyes at his teasing statement as you leaned into each other, "Watch it, Harrington--"
"Sorry, mama," He cut in as he dipped his head down to slot his lips against yours, only to end up leading you back down the hall to your bedroom.
