hi hello it's me :-) can we talk about steve's possessiveness mixing with maybe a liiiil bit of an exhibitionism kink where he's gotta have a hand on you at. all. times. ???? lower back, on your thigh, back of your neck with his thumb rubbing gently into your skin....... like i'm yours steve i promise ＿|￣|○
Oh, we absolutely can! Because I headcanon this 💯
Warnings: Language, touching, obvious exhibitionism kink, a lot of touching, soft Steve, vaginal fingering, bit of a love possessive Steve, & overall smutty goodness.
• Steve’s big hands and thick fingers are two of your favorite focal points, so you don’t protest when he always manages to have them on you, around you, inside of you… Doesn’t matter if it’s simply holding hands, patching wounds, tracing old scars, or the shapes, dents, and dips along one another’s bodies. Doesn’t matter that you know each other’s flesh more than your own, it’s a familiar and comforting road that you drive down everyday.
• And you? He always has to show you how much he cares, because touch is this man’s love language. Holding your hands, linking your fingers together during sex, being there to support you — hell, even giving you massages. Those often end up in you asleep, or being fucked towards a nice state of unconsciousness. Touch doesn’t always amount to a sexual state.
• If you’re in a public setting and even someone so much as smiles at you, Steve is getting that uncontrollable itch. He’s been the guy that used to stake his claim in high school, but with you? That urge to be cocky King Steve warning off different beasts from his girl — it’s stronger than ever.
• His favorite public places to take you in (many times you’ve often been caught off guard) are:
- Dressing rooms
- Library (he loves when you can’t be quiet. your pussy is always so messy, even with his hand over your mouth)
- Anywhere in the video store
- Photobooths (he’s gotten hella pictures of you when you come)
- Movie theaters (he remembers how you rode him into the seat after he fingered you and had you cumming on his tongue when Starcourt was still alive)
- Restrooms (before he graduated, he’d managed to have you in the girls and boys restroom) in any vicinity.
- Hawkins Public Pool (during adult only swim day, he cornered you in the deep end and let his fingers slip beneath your bathing suit bottom. took you underneath a beach towel, and in the locker room shower, steam room, and on the bench)
- Lovers Lake
- Amusement parks
- Nightclubs and bars (he’s cornered you into so many stalls, bent you over so many sinks. Even took you on the band’s amp backstage in the corridor) “Want you limping so they can see, honey. Think they heard what I was doing to you?”
• When the carnival is in town, Steve can’t stop his PDA. Hands in the back of your blue jean pocket, fingers skimming beneath your bangle bracelets. It works the same way on the beach. Watching all of these other people stare you down, he just wants to dig it in deeper — let them know that he’s got you, he can touch you, make you fall apart completely — not them, never them.
• At red lights he can’t help but to let his fingers skim over your thighs. When you wear skirts, especially on long drives — he goes mad.
• One of his favorite parts of you is your thighs. How he can always tap a rhythm into them, pinch and slap at the flesh, watch it rebound into his grasp. You’ll let him do whatever he wants, even that time in the alleyway after he argued with Tommy H and what he’d called you, you let Steve press you into the wall, fingers around your throat, his other hand in your underwear, fucking you on his thick digits. Didn’t matter that Tommy or Carol could see, that anyone could see.
• After the demons, the monsters, the underground dimensions, evil humans, and wars — Steve was extra good at recognizing the tension in your body and helping to release it. A hand on your back, knuckles along your spine, pinching and rolling the overworked muscles.
• In the car, out with friends — his thumbpad grazes your jugular, maps along your jawline, caresses the back of your neck and satiates your craving. He’s the only one who can.
• His hands find ways beneath your shirt — soft early mornings, especially during summer storms. To keep his hands warm if they’re cold. You warm him up, he always states. How can that be so wrong?
• He’ll pull his car into a parking lot, soft song echoing across his speakers, condensation floating around the crystal, fogging you both into a shrouded oblivion, rain rasping along the paint job, neon lights glittering around you. It’s panting breaths and wet noises, tires on asphalt. He’ll crack the window, because maybe those assholes who catcalled you will hear your crying and pleading for his fat cock? Summer rain, sex, and you… All that he’s ever gonna need…