What artists are Tumblr users listening to, you ask… 👂
all of July, we’ll be revealing the top 100 music artists that tumblr users are talking about, based on user data from the past year. keep reblogging those fan edits, music posts, and photo-sets as we count down tumblr's favorite artists. any guesses for #1?
coming in at spots 100-81, we have…
100. Liam Payne | 99. Jihyo | 98. Zayn Malik | 97. Kurt Cobain | 96. Led Zeppelin | 95. Haechan | 94. Lisa | 93. Elvis Presley | 92. Bob Dylan | 91. Charli XCX | 90. Panic! At the Disco | 89. Green Day | 88. Ningning | 87. Nirvana | 86. J-Hope | 85. Conan Gray | 84. Niall Horan | 83. Florence + The Machine | 82. Jennie | 81. Damon Albarn
Summary: You and Steve have been skirting around the obvious tension brewing between the two of you, until it boils over in the summer heat.
WC: 5.4k
Warnings & What to Expect: 18+ mdni!! explicit smut, m masturbation, oral (f and m receiving), explicit language, sorta sub Steve, y’all this got real dirty for me 🙈 still plot heavy tho. takes place around the epilogue of s5, mentions of struggling with mental health, brief mentions of death and abuse, reader tries pushing Steve away but that man is ✨persistent✨
Peach’s Note: to the anon who requested this, im so sorry it’s taken me so long 😭 started this like a month ago and im mostly just a plot girlie so the smut was giving me a hard time. i also changed it to take place once steve is a teacher. hoping that’s okay lovie! 🩵
Steve Harrington was anything but subtle.
Which is why you could feel him staring at you, eyes dragging over your body from across the backyard.
You were resting on the edge of the smooth concrete by the shallow end of the pool with your feet swaying through the crisp water, pretending not to notice Steve peering at you, but your sister - ever the observer - picked up on it from her spot next to you.
“He’s staring again,” she mumbles, lifting her sunglasses to squint over at you.
“And?” You ask, lazily flipping through the magazine in your hands.
Max smirks, “And it’s like the fifth time I’ve caught him looking like he’s ready to pounce on you.”
You roll your eyes, “Steve does not want to pounce on me.”
“Sure. That explains why he’s been drooling over you,” she replies sarcastically.
Your eyes discreetly cut over to where he’s standing - hovering by the deep end while he uses the skimmer net to try to clean out some of the debris that’s floating on top of the glimmering water.
He’s shirtless, muscles rippling across his back each time he extends his arms to reach something with the pole that’s grasped tightly in his hands. His swim trunks are wet from the last time he jumped in the pool, clinging deliciously to his thighs - leaving little to the imagination with the way the material is hugging him.
His moles and freckles are on full display, along with the smattering of chest hair and happy trail that disappears into the top of his shorts. The sun that’s been sizzling brightly in the sky all day makes his skin look golden, and his hair that’s pushed back is drying in little waves.
It should be criminal how good he looks, and you’re practically melting at the sight of him - wouldn’t be surprised if your sister turned to look at you and found a puddle instead.
You’re snapped back to reality by her intake of breath, “Holy shit. You’re into Steve.”
You feel a flare of panic rise in your chest, “No, I’m not.”
“Then tell me why you were just staring him down the same way he’s been looking at you all day,” she goads.
“He looks like he’s burning doesn’t he? Excuse me for being a good friend and being worried about his lack of sunscreen habits,” you retort - lying through your teeth, and you both know it.
“Uh huh, I totally believe you,” she smiles sweetly, but you know there’s an underlying question she’s dying to ask.
“Just say it,” you sigh, knowing you can’t pretend for long around her.
She scrambles up, tucking her legs underneath her and turns to look at you fully, “How long have you liked him?”
It was a loaded question. One that you weren’t exactly sure how to answer.
You were once convinced that you hated Steve when your family first moved to Hawkins. You thought he was just a spoiled rich kid that relied on his parents money and status.
But as time wore on, you realized that there was much more to him. His tender heart specifically, which shined clear through his personality was one of the things that made you attracted to him.
And that scared the hell out of you, because your own heart had been hardened by the harsh reality of life that you’ve had to live through. You thought that keeping him at arms length would help, but Steve had a way of making it too difficult to ignore him.
It didn’t help that when the quarantine lifted, it left just you and Steve from the little friend group that you had formed with Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan - who were now studying at varying colleges across the nation.
You decided to stay behind in Hawkins - mainly to support your sister as she worked tirelessly to catch up on the school that she missed while she was in her coma for nearly two years. But a small part of you struggled to admit the fact that you didn’t like the idea of leaving Steve here on his own after everything.
There was an invisible string that tied you to him - could see it in the way you both danced around the tension that built each time you were in each other’s vicinity. Banter flowed easily between you two - jabs and taunts that never held any true weight.
You’d find yourself at his baseball games on the weekends, cheering his team on from the stands - claiming you were there to support Derek, but Steve would always grin cheesily at you, never failing to fluster you when he said things like it’s okay, gorgeous, you can admit you’re here for me or saw you staring at me, pretty girl.
In return, he’d show up to the trailer you shared with your mom and sister on the nights he knew you were alone - bringing a bottle of wine and dinner, assuring you it wasn’t a date - stating that he just didn’t want to be by himself.
But you weren’t stupid, and you knew he found his way into your home on the nights it was empty because you had once gotten so drunk that you cried your eyes out in his arms - telling him your fear of never finding anyone to settle down with.
Neither of you spoke about it, satisfied with a friendship that constantly had you nearly crossing the line into something more. It was easier that way, because you weren’t sure if you’d survive having a taste of him to ultimately end up losing him.
“It’s complicated,” you exhale, picking at a loose thread of the beach towel that lays beside you.
Max narrows her eyes, “It doesn’t have to be.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” you mutter, letting your eyes float back over to Steve.
He’s now got his head tipped back in a fit of laughter at something Dustin just said to him and god, that smile of his. It makes your stomach flip traitorously - knowing that you’d give anything for him to look at you like that, with his eyes crinkled up adorably as he tries to compose himself.
“Try me,” Max encourages, placing a gentle hand on your knee.
You're reminded of the heartbreak you saw in her when Billy died - the weight she carried as she felt like it was her fault. You remember the way you tried to get her to talk to you, tried to assure her you were there, tried anything to get her out of the storm that was raging in her mind - the one that ultimately caused her to drown in it.
She’s come a long way, but you finally understood the push back she gave you, because you weren’t ready to open yourself up - to expose yourself, to give your heart to Steve only to watch it slip through his fingers like fine graded sand.
You shake your head, “Don’t worry about it.”
“Whatever,” Max huffs out, “just close yourself off like always.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You snap, growing agitated at her tone.
“It means you always run away from something that could be good. You don’t give things a real chance,” she mumbles.
You scoff, “That’s not true.”
“It is. You’re doing it right now with me. You’re constantly on the defense, and you push people away before they have the chance to hurt you,” she snarks back.
The words are sharp, jaggedly slashing across the cavities of your chest - causes your hackles to rise and fight back one more time.
You grit your teeth in annoyance, “You don’t know that.”
Max officially loses her patience with you, “I do know that! Because it’s exactly what I did to Lucas.”
The harsh reality of her words settles like a weight on your shoulders, “That’s different.”
“Is it? Lucas saw me. All of me. He didn’t care about the darkness, or the faults that came with me. He wanted me to trust him for so long, and all I did was shut him out, shut you out. And look where it got me,” she says wearily.
“That’s not your fault,” you tell her firmly.
“Some evil asshole torturing me? Yeah, that’s not my fault. But not letting anyone in before it got to that point is what killed me,” she admits - raw, unfiltered, honestly bleeding through.
You remain silent, thoroughly feeling called out by your baby sister.
“Just give him a chance. The guy’s so obviously obsessed with you it actually makes me a little sick having to watch him hope that you’ll finally notice him,” she raises her eyebrows.
You release a wistful breath, “I do notice him.”
“Then do something about it. I think he could make you really happy if you let him,” she reaches up to brush some hair off your face that’s sticking to your heated skin.
You finally relent, “I’ll think about it.”
She grabs your hand, giving it a squeeze, moving to rest her head against your shoulder. Time stretches, the buzz of the summer envelops the two of you as you sit - watching your friends splash and squeal under the haze of the setting sun. Eventually, there’s a bustle of movement that signs the day is nearing its end.
“It looks like we’re about to head out,” Max gestures to the party, who are starting to collect their belongings, “Are you coming over to Mike’s to watch the campaign?”
You bite your lip as you watch Steve start bidding goodbye to the rowdy teenagers that have taken over his home. His hands are planted on his lips, no doubt giving them a lecture about making smart choices.
She calls your name, breaking you out of your hypnotized state that Steve pulled you into.
“Hmm?” You hum distractedly, watching as Steve bends over to grab one of the boys towels off the ground - causing the tight swim shorts to delectably hug the curve of his ass.
“I’m gonna take that as a no,” she teases, shaking her head.
“What?” Your lips part in confusion, having completely missed what she said.
“Love you, be safe,” she calls, unnecessarily loud as she starts to pack up her own items.
“Max,” you hiss, and she blows a kiss in your direction before joining the boys.
Amongst the chaos and chatter of goodbyes, you fail to notice that Steve has inched his way closer to you. Your heart picks up, thrumming gleefully as he nears - feel the rush of it pounding in your ears.
“You didn’t wanna head out with Max?” Steve asks softly, padding over to the pool stairs.
“I’d like to stay here for a bit longer, if that’s okay?” You reply hesitantly, kicking your legs slowly against the edge of the pool.
“You know you’re always welcome here, pretty girl,” Steve pushes the sunglasses perched on that perfectly sloped nose of his into his hair - making the locks look fuller, urging you to run your fingers through them.
“Thanks, Stevie,” you murmur quietly, watching as he descends the stairs into the water.
He comes to a stop in front of you - a couple of feet away, but if you reach out far enough you could touch that skin of his that you’re eager to feel against your own.
“Are you ready for summer break?” You inquire, knowing he only has a couple more weeks left to teach.
“God, yes. Who knew I’d be saying that again?” He laughs lightly, and the breeze has drifted him even closer now.
Max’s words are reverberating, ricocheting back and forth around your brain. Give him a chance. Give him a chance. Give him a chance.
The repeated phrase emboldens you to reach a careful hand out to his face, softly cupping the side of his head. Steve’s eyes widen at the action, freezing under the contact, but he doesn’t pull away.
“You look exhausted," you say worriedly, daintily trailing your thumb over the dark circles that rim his eyes.
“I am. Middle school is kicking my ass,” he complains, closing his eyes contentedly at the touch.
“Those middle schoolers are brutal,” you agree, moving your thumb over the high of his cheekbone.
“Right? I swear they purposefully try to make me lose it,” he grumbles with the cutest little pout on his lips.
“Thankfully you have lots of experience babysitting them,” you remind him.
He snorts at that, “Yeah, still feels like I’m babysitting those little shits sometimes.”
“That’s because you still do so much for them,” you commend him.
“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, like it’s nothing. Like him giving up his time for them means nothing when in reality it’s everything.
The thought has you aching, willing to relieve the tension that you can see set in his taught shoulders.
“C’mere,” you murmur, patting your thighs - silently communicating for him to rest his head against them.
He hesitates, unsure of the insinuation.
“I don’t bite, Harrington. Not unless you want me to,” you smirk, gleefully noticing a sweet blush rising up his neck - blooming slightly over the expanse of his chest.
“Not sure if I believe that, gorgeous,” he winks.
The plane of his stomach probs against your knees, and your words must have mustered up some sense of courage in him because he wraps his arms strongly under the meat of your thighs - laying his head against the top of them.
You comb your fingers attentively through the silky texture of his hair, tenderly massaging at his scalp. A soft keen ripples from Steve’s throat as you affectionately scratch your nails down to the slope of his neck.
“Fuck, how’d you get so good at this,” he muses, eyes fluttering to stay open despite growing heavy from the rhythmic movement.
You smile sadly, choosing to be truthful, “It was the only thing that calmed Max down when Neil was yelling at our mom.”
You feel a puff of angry breath leave Steve’s lips, and he lifts himself to focus on you - indignation lining his features.
“She would barge her way into my room, crying her eyes out. I would hold her, but it wasn’t enough. When I learned that playing with her hair made her drift into sleep, I just kept doing it until the fighting stopped,” you confess.
Steve stares in disbelief, “God, you didn’t deserve that, gorgeous.”
Your breathing picks up when you catch the way his eyes flick down to your mouth, tongue poking out briefly to wet his lips. You suddenly feel that imaginary pull between the two of you, being drawn helplessly into his orbit.
You know without a doubt that you would have kissed him, if it had not been for the fact that your foot accidentally brushed against his crotch - making him flounder backwards awkwardly, putting an unsettling amount of distance between the two of you.
You feel sick at his reaction, anxious that he changed his mind about you, until you catch sight of the very obvious bulge nestled in the confines of his shorts.
“Uh, did you, uh, wanna stay for dinner?” Steve stumbles over the words, embarrassment flooding every fiber of his being - trying to distract you by asking the question.
You struggle to find the words to answer, because you can feel your arousal pooling inside of you - significantly turned on by the effect you had on him.
It makes the decision easy, “I’d love to stay.”
“Cool, yeah, I’ll uh, go check what’s in the kitchen,” he scratches the back of his neck, hustling his way into the house.
And when you feel Steve’s eyes gawking at you once again through the sliding glass door, your resolve ultimately caves - deciding to give into the craving for him that your body has been screaming at you for years.
Steve knew it was wrong, knew he shouldn’t be watching your every move when you were unaware, but he was a weak, weak man.
He’d spent the majority of the day pretending like he didn’t have a raging hard on for you hidden beneath his bathing suit. He was doomed from the minute you walked into his home with that taunting smile of yours - brushing by him, leaving a trail of your perfume in your wake.
It only got worse when you convinced him to play a game of chicken fight in the pool against Max and Lucas. Feeling the bare skin of your thighs resting on his shoulders was intoxicating, and when Max pushed you roughly - catching you off guard - your legs had clamped tightly against Steve’s head, bringing him down into the water with you.
Then the minute you coaxed him to lay his head on the plush of those heavenly thighs, hands expertly kneading through his hair - he knew he was royally screwed.
Steve was enamored with you. Obsessed with the teasing remarks that the two of you lobbied back and forth. Had a burning desire for you that he couldn’t shake, and seeing you in that skimpy swimsuit makes him yield to the temptation - palming himself through the fabric of his shorts while he watches you lay back and rest in the summer heat.
Your legs shift, one knee lifting to a prop and Steve chokes on air when it gives him the perfect view of your bikini clad pussy - the tiny material clinging to you, outlining the swell of your folds.
“Fuck,” Steve whimpers, shoving his hand under his waistband and stroking his member slowly - trying to savor the feel of it while his eyes flit over your exposed skin.
His thumb glides over his tip, smearing the dribbles of precum that’s leaking down his shaft - allowing him to jerk his wrist in a fluid motion.
His hand picks up speed when you suddenly stand up, trying desperately to work himself over the edge before you notice him. But what you do next has his brain shortcutting - palm stilling in disbelief when you turn around, proceeding to untie the strings of your top.
Steve’s breath catches in his throat as his eyes trace the naked skin of your back, and he just about nearly blacks out at seeing the curve of your breasts when you lean over to grab a shirt from your bag.
He watches as you slip the white shirt on, and it falls to a rest halfway down those damn thighs - almost positive that he’ll pass out when he realizes that it’s his shirt.
He remembers giving it to you the night you showed up to his place, crying over a nightmare you had about losing Max. They plagued you, and you found yourself running to Steve to feel the familiar sense of comfort you knew he would provide.
You had promised to wash and return it - though he’s now realizing he never got it back, can’t help but imagine that you’ve used it as a sleep shirt. Wishing that you touched yourself while you thought of him when wearing it.
“Shit,” he curses when he sees you getting ready to head inside.
He fumbles around, forcing himself to walk over to the sink - washing his hands, pretending like he was there the whole time.
You slide the back door open, eyes cutting to Steve still hopelessly standing by the sink.
“What’s for dinner?” You ask, playing with the ends of your hair innocently.
Steve clears his throat, “Uh, whatever you want.”
“Hmm,” you hum, walking further into the room to stand next to him.
He’s suspiciously starting to feel like he’s prey with the way you’re looking at him, like he’s walked right into a trap of some kind.
“So,” you start casually, tapping your fingers against the cool counter, “did you enjoy the show?”
His breath hitches, trying his best to stay nonchalant, “The show?”
“Mhm,” you reach over him, purposefully pressing your chest against his - grabbing a piece of watermelon from the bowl on the counter and popping it into your mouth.
Steve watches the way your mouth moves, erection borderline painful at this point - words failing him.
You smirk, “Don’t be shy, Stevie. I know you came in here to fuck that pretty cock of yours with your fist while watching me, didn’t you?”
Steve wouldn’t be surprised if you pinched him, and he woke up - seriously starting to think he’s in the middle of a fever dream. Because while the flirty ribbing between you two was always there, he never expected those filthy words leaving your lips.
When you prop yourself up on the counter next to him, the oversized shirt snags under your ass - pulling taught against your breasts, and Steve stares unabashedly at the way your nipples pebble through.
“I’ll ask again, did you, enjoy, the show?” You enunciate the words - hand reaching out to snag at the drawstring of his shorts.
Steve’s absolutely speechless, lust taking over any rational decision making as you tug him towards you. You pull him flush to the counter, hand toying with the snug waistband that hugs his hips.
You bring your lips to the shell of his ear and whisper, “I need you to use your words, Stevie.”
He throws his head back with a loud whine when your hand reaches out to delicately cup him, slowly grinding the heel of your hand into his clothed cock.
“Fuck, yes, I enjoyed it,” his mouth drops open, and you press a kiss to the hollow of his throat.
“Well then, it’s only fair that you repay me,” you snatch your hand away, and he mewls at the loss of contact.
“Repay you?” He asks breathlessly.
“For helping you feel good, though it looks like maybe you didn’t quite finish,” you giggle teasingly, seeing the prominent outline of his member pressing against his shorts.
His head drops to the crook of your neck, “Didn’t, I tried to.”
“Poor baby,” you pout, running your hands over the soft swell of his tummy, creeping higher - pausing to rake your fingers in the dark curls scattered across his chest.
You leisurely push at him, forcing him to take a step back - wanting him to watch as you slip off your bottoms, letting them dangle on one ankle before dropping them onto the floor.
“If you’re a good boy for me, I might just let you come in my mouth,” you smile coyly, and Steve thinks it’s a miracle that he doesn’t come right then and there.
You watch in delight at the look that glazes over Steve’s expression, pretty brown eyes with flecks of green in them half lidded - staring when you part your legs, laying yourself bare for him.
“You still here, Harrington?” You ask playfully, lifting a foot to hook around his waist.
“Fuck, I hope so,” he finally stutters out.
“C’mon, I’ve heard lots of big talk coming from these lips of yours,” your manicured hand grips his jaw, squeezing ever so slightly to make his mouth pucker, “Why don’t you put them to work for me?”
He nods eagerly, and you let go of his mouth, which he uses to start pressing kisses along the side of your neck - hands slipping up under his shirt that covers you to cup your breasts.
You let out a breathy moan at the way his fingers skim feather light over the peak of your nipples, kneading the flesh there before moving his hands down to your waist. He hikes the bottom of the shirt up, pushing it to bunch at your hipbones - refusing to take it off you because it’s making his head dizzy knowing that it’s his.
Steve dips his head to mouth at the exposed skin under your navel, skimming his nose down until he reaches the juncture of your thigh - hands hooking under your legs to bring them up and over his shoulders.
His lips part at the sight of your glistening pussy, slick trickling down onto the counter from how wet you are.
“All this for me, pretty girl?” He grins devilishly, tone finally returning to a confident cadence.
“All for you, Stevie,” you whine, bucking your hips up - impatiently waiting to feel his mouth on you.
He gives you reprieve, nuzzles his head between your thighs - lips nipping at the sensitive skin before his nose moves to nudge at your clit.
“Thank you,” he groans, before delving his tongue into the wet heat of your entrance.
“Thanking me for letting you eat my pussy, Stevie? Fuck, you are being good,” you praise, hands knotting into his damp hair.
His tongue works expertly, prodding inside of you salaciously before licking his way up to your clit - sucking harshly on the little bud. A high pitched whine is ripped from the back of your throat, head dropping back - smacking loudly against the cabinets.
“Fuck, Steve,” you whimper needily.
“Gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbles, tongue circling your nub before moving back to your entrance, greedily gathering your slick that weeps incessantly at the way he’s pushing you closer to your release.
The lewd sounds of his mouth working against your aching cunt has you spiraling, white hot heat twisting rapidly.
“Fuck, right there,” you moan when his tongue laps greedily at your clit.
You can feel your orgasm approaching, legs starting to tremble - band coiling lowly in your gut, ready to reach your breaking point when you feel him pause.
“No, no, why’d you stop,” you whine in frustration.
“Sorry, pretty girl,” he pants out, and your eyes fly open when you hear the rustle of fabric - realizing that Steve’s tugging at his cock.
“You touching yourself, Stevie?” You ask, mouth dropping open at the sight of his dick because fuck, was it pretty.
It was long, thick, leaking what seemed to be an endless amount of precum that was seeping slowly down his length - trailing the appealing veins that were straining taught with how desperate he was for a release.
“Can’t help it, you taste too fucking good,” he pants, hand jerking eagerly - getting lost in his own pleasure for a moment.
The heel of your foot kicks against his back, commanding that he brings his mouth to your core, “Steve, I need you.”
“Yeah? You need me, pretty girl?” He grunts, delving back into your heat - tongue working in swift tight circles, lips working over your bud.
“Shit, Steve, need more,” you cry, clawing at his shoulders - trying to shove his face closer.
At your begging, Steve sinks two fingers into your tight, dripping hole without warning, fucking them in and out of you in long lazy drags.
“Steve, I’m gonna come,” you whimper, writhing against his mouth.
“Yeah? Go on, pretty girl, wanna taste you,” he groans, and the muffled vibrations shoot straight to your center - clenching down hard once more against his fingers before your orgasm washes over you.
“Fuck,” you whine, bucking your hips subconsciously as you chase your high.
Your chest heaves from the exertion, hunger bubbling up when Steve pulls back - jaw coated in your juices, flicking his tongue out to taste the remains of you.
You scramble off the counter, earnestly ready to return the favor - dropping harshly to your knees on the cold tile floor, about to replace his hands with your mouth when he gently taps your chin, effectively stopping you.
“Wait,” he whispers, kicking his discarded shorts towards you.
You look up at him in confusion, while he gives you a sheepish smile, “Your knees, don’t want them to bruise.”
Your lips part in shock at the words because god, why did he have to be so cute? He rolls the material into a makeshift cushion, encouraging you to kneel on it. It’s not significantly better - can still feel the press of ceramic, but the sentiment of it only makes you more eager to please him.
When your hand finally wraps around his cock, he lets out a groan - hips instinctively rutting in your hold. You guide him closer, giving a small lick to the head - letting your tongue lave against the velvet skin down to his balls, tentatively reaching a hand up to fondle them.
“Oh shit,” he moans, sinking his hands into your hair.
Steve babbles mindlessly when you start to track kisses back up until you reach the ruddy tip, lips gently closing over it.
“Fuck me,” Steve whines as your mouth relaxes, taking him deeper down your throat.
Your hand strokes what doesn’t fit at his base, sucking meticulously - trying your best to learn what’s going to tip him over the edge.
“Gonna come,” he whimpers, rocking his hips shallowly - desperately holding back from letting instinct take over and plunge himself into the wet heat of your mouth.
When you drag your lips back up to the head and give one last precise roll of your tongue, Steve lets out a guttural sound, spilling ropes of his cum down your throat.
He holds you there as he continues to pulse in the aftershocks that wreck his body, jaw unhinged as he shudders out a labored breath - eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy.
“Holy hell,” Steve gasps when you swallow his load, catching the droplets that spill from your lips with your fingers - collecting the remains of his cum and stuffing it back in your mouth.
He swipes at your jaw with the palm of his hand, and you grow timid under his gaze, dipping your head down.
“Hey,” he says softly, “don’t hide after that, pretty girl.”
“I was horny,” you laugh under your breath at the admission, “but now I’m kind of embarrassed,” you mumble, cheeks flushing - eyes gingerly making contact with his.
“Don’t be. It was fucking hot,” he grins wickedly, holding his hand out to you.
You grab it, and when he hoists you to your feet - your knees buckle from the pressure they were under, causing you to collapse against him. He maneuvers you to lean back against the counter, bending to grab your discarded bottoms - motions for you to lift your feet, slipping them back on for you.
His hands skim the flesh of your thighs again, traveling down to your knees - rubbing soft circles to alleviate the sting in them from digging into the floor. He hikes one of your legs up, peppering kisses along your calf up to the knee - repeating the process with the other one, and your head spins, stirring with want when you notice his cock twitch, half hard again already.
Steve catches you staring, and chuckles - retrieving his shorts and drawing them up his legs.
“Listen,” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “as much as I would love to bring you upstairs, I’d really like to take you on a date first.”
You break eye contact, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t wanna go out with me?” He asks without any judgement, hands slipping behind your lower back - refusing to let you hide within yourself.
“I’m scared you’ll realize I’m not worth the effort,” you utter weakly.
He barks out a laugh at that, “Are you kidding me?”
“This isn’t funny, Steve,” you deflate, starting to pull away.
“No, it’s not. I’m not laughing at you, gorgeous. But the fact that you can’t see that I’ve been chasing after you for years is honestly insane to me,” he grips onto you tightly, eyes pleading that you’ll read the truth that lingers behind them.
He grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Please look at me, pretty girl.”
You feel the threat of tears rim your waterline, but manage to listen to his pleading.
“I’ve known who you are this whole time. You don’t scare me. And you sure as hell are worth every bit of effort if it means you’ll be mine,” he breathes, dropping his forehead to yours.
Steve can still sense your reluctance and places a tender kiss to the spot below your ear, “Promise, ‘m gonna take care of that heart of yours if you let me.”
It’s the candor in his tone that allows you to surrender - letting down your guard and cracking open your heart, providing him the room to take home inside of it.
You loop your arms around his neck, playing with the wisps of hair there, “I want more with you.”
The blinding smile he sends you confirms that you made the right choice to let him in, and he hauls you up in his arms - silently communicating that he’s going to protect the most vulnerable pieces of you without regret.
lol rereading the original request, i definitely veered from fun to more emotional oops my bad anon
Divider credits to @saradika-graphics
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