FWB!Steve Harrington x f!reader, where you’re both tipsy and giggling in the Wheeler’s basement. There’s plenty of space on the couch but you’re pressed against the corner of it anyway, you perched lazily on Steve’s lap while his arms are loosely wrapped around your waist.
You’re both leaning in close, faces flushed and eyes hazy. You’re 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. “You’re insatiable…”
“Can you blame me, baby? You look so damn good right now…”
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.
“Yes-! Yes, I can! I’m trying to listen to Eddie’s story and you’re being a bad boy…”
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.
“Aw…”
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. He’s 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.
“You’re breakin’ my heart….”
Then he’s leaning close again, eyes shutting and lips brushing yours. He’s barely there, featherlight. He’s waiting for you to finish it- this little game you started upstairs, the one where you gave him the most intense ‘bedroom eyes’ he’s 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 you’re 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, you’re practically vibrating with want and Steve’s already thinking of a barely coherent excuse for why you need to leave together.
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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. He’s a totally touch starved brat. Lol. 🤍