Warnings: SMUT! Cowgirl position, unprotected piv, Steve is lowk pathetic oops, reader is a lil mean, I think that's all
The heavy breathing cuts through the silence of Steve's bedroom.
The two of you were talking about anything under the sun, laughing and being all cute. That was until your boyfriend decided he wanted to kiss down your neck, run his hands up and down your body, and pull you into his lap.
Now, your lips are all over his, kissing him deep while your fingers tug at his hair. You let out a soft laugh when Steve ruts his hips up against yours, looking for any friction through the fabric of his pajama pants.
"Don't laugh." He practically whines, his hands grasping at your sides in something close to desperation. "C'mon, baby..." He whispers as your tongue slides around his. "Need you."
You let out a little hum, but you make no effort to do anything more right now. You run your hands down his chest, reaching the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.
He pulls your shirt off next, throwing it haphazardly somewhere in his room. He reaches up to touch at your breasts, covered by your bra, but you take his wrists and press them into the mattress. He lets out a whimper. A real whimper at your teasing, looking up at you with wide eyes.
"Oh, what's wrong, Steve?" You coo at him, grinding down against him and smiling slyly at the gasp he lets out. "Please, please, baby. Please, I need you." He pants, gripping at the mattress and trying not to just cream his pants right now.
You cup his cheek and lean down to kiss his lips again, still grinding against him. The whimpers Steve lets out make your head spin. He's so adorable like this, it makes you wonder why you don't do this more.
"Ae, you poor thing. So needy, aren't you?" You coo again, smiling as he pulls away from the kiss to look up at you with big, desperate eyes. "What's gotten into y--" You kiss him again, and he immediately melts into it.
"Don't know." You mumble against his lips, still rocking against him just enough to make him feel good but not enough to get him off just yet. He grabs at your hips, letting out moans against your lips.
"Please... please, please, please." He gasps into your mouth, and you decide you can't tease him for much longer. Not when he's begging so sweetly and already so pent up.
You run your hands down his chest and crawl off his lap while you unbutton his jeans and slowly unzip them. He lets out a shaky breath, lifting his hips off the mattress when you start tugging on his jeans and boxers.
You pull them both off, Steve's heavy cock slapping against his stomach and leaking precum. He's already throbbing, absolutely aching for you. You throw the rest of your own clothes off and immediately go to line his tip up with your glistening entrance.
Steve is about to tell you he wants to get you ready for him first, but you sink down all the way in one motion, moaning out as your arms wrap around Steve's neck.
It takes everything in him to not come on the spot, his head tipped back as you begin moving up and down. It feels like he's splitting you open, but it also feels so amazing.
Steve lets out little pants, moans, and whimpers as you bounce on his cock, your tits right in front of his face nearly driving him insane. "Baby, you're so-- f-ah..." He tries to get a sentence out. He really does, but you just feel too good. He can't think straight.
"You like that?" You moan out, holding his jaw as he looks up at you with his eyes already glossed over. He nods, looking up at you and nearly passing away right then and there.
You look into his dark brown eyes, smiling softly as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. "So big, Steve. Fillin' me up so good." You moan, using your free hand to hold his shoulder for leverage.
"Please. M'not gonna last long. Not-- Not like this." Steve whimpers, sliding his hands over your body for a moment before wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight.
"Just-- Hold on a bit longer.." You pant, leaning forward more to bounce faster, your tits right in front of Steve's face. He immediately presses kisses to your hot skin, letting out the sweetest little whimpers against you.
Knowing now that you're not as close as he is, he slides a free hand down your body, his thumb finding your clit as he looks up at you, looking for approval. "F-feel good?" He whimpers, rubbing it fast but not hard.
You nod, still holding his jaw as he looks up at you. His eyes are wide, staring at your face while his hair bounces, the bed creaking and his hips beginning to move in time with yours.
"Love you... I love you, I love you, I love you, I l--omph." You press your lips to his, sliding your hands into his perfect hair. The slapping sound of your ass against his thighs over and over fills the room.
"M'close, Stevie." You moan against his lips, and Steve pulls away from the kiss to lean his head back.
You kiss down his neck, and Steve can't help it anymore. He's so desperate, so in love with you, so pleasured by every little thing you do. He lets out a loud moan, burying his face against your shoulder as hot ropes of cum fill you up. You slow down, but Steve shakes his head.
"Don't stop. Don't, please. N-not until you-- until you come too." He gasps, eyes glazed over with impending overstimulation. You continue to move, and Steve's thumb rubs faster and harder over your clit.
"Keep-- umf-- just like that, just like that, just like that, ju-" You cut him off with a kiss once again, pulling away with a little breathy giggle. "You talk too much, handsome." You whisper, and he can't help but smile at your teasing.
"M'sorry, you're just-- ah-- so perfect." He groans, his dark eyes wide as your legs begin to shake and your movements start to falter. "Gonna come, baby. Gonna-- mhm..." You moan, your movements growing rougher for a moment before they stutter and then stop as your orgasm hits you like a train.
You gush around Steve's sensitive cock, riding through the waves of pleasure before the two of you both slump together. You move off of his lap, letting out a shaky little sigh as Steve slips out of you. He slides down against the pillows, laying flat on his back and turning only his head to look at you.
You lay down next, turned on your side with your head and hand resting on Steve's chest. "You can get mean, baby. A damn tease." He says with a soft laugh, his hand finding your lower back and running his hand over your skin.
"Sorry. I don't know what got into me, honestly. I was just--" "No, no. I liked it. That was so damn hot." Steve cuts you off, a drowsy smile on his face.
"I love you, baby." Steve whispers, running his hand up your back to cradle your head against his sticky chest. "Love you too, Steve." You whisper back just as softly.
"And you're hot when you're pleading." You add, feeling Steve's skin heat up and letting out a little laugh. "You're a bully, y'know that?" He smiles, stroking over your hair and already about to doze off.
Okay do we like this? I thought it was decent so yeah ^-^
⤿ STEVE HARRINGTON has been dating you for three months, and he still was nervous to meet your dad. But that's because your dad was Jim Hopper, chief of the damn police.
!! no warnings. fluff. hopper being protective. fem!reader. established relationship. in my head you're like hopper's daughter from a college situationship. expect more stranger things. no spoilers.
Steve Harrington had faced down demogorgons, demodogs, and Russian soldiers. He'd been tortured, beaten, and dragged through hell — literally and figuratively. But none of that, absolutely none of it, compared to the sheer terror he felt pulling up to Chief Jim Hopper's cabin at 6:47 PM on a damn Thursday evening.
"You can do this," he muttered to himself, checking his hair in the rearview mirror for the third time. "You've got this. He's just a guy. Just a guy who happens to be the chief of police. And your girlfriend's dad. And could probably make you... leave town, without anyone asking questions."
He was spiraling. He knew he was spiraling.
The thing was, you'd been dating for three months now, and Steve was pretty sure he was in love with you. Actually, he was completely sure, he'd known since the second week, when you'd laughed so hard at one of Dustin's stories that you'd snorted, then laughed even harder at yourself. But your dad? Your dad was Jim Hopper, the most intimidating man in Hawkins, and Steve was very aware that he fit the exact profile of guy Hopper would hate.. pretty, ex-popular guy, and had a history of being kind of a douchebag.
Never mind that Steve had changed. Never mind that he was trying to be better. One look at his face and Hopper had written him off.
Steve knew this because the first time he'd met your dad — aka when he'd picked you up for your first date — Hopper had opened the door, looked him up and down, and said, "You're kidding me." Then looked back to you, where you were scooting past him in the doorway,and then to Steve again with a scowl and an eyebrow raised.
Not "hello." Not "nice to meet you." Just "You're kidding me."
It had gone downhill from there.
Now, three months later, you'd invited him to family dinner. Actual family dinner, at the cabin, with your dad. Steve had tried to get out of it, he'd suggested taking you to Enzo's instead, offered to cook for you at his place, even floated the idea of a picnic, but you'd just laughed, Then kissed his cheek and told him it would be fine.
It was not going to be fine.
Steve took a deep breath, grabbed the flowers he'd brought for you and the six-pack of beer he'd brought for your dad (a peace offering that would probably be rejected), and walked to the door.
You answered before he could knock, and the sight of you made his heart do that stupid fluttery thing it always did. You were wearing jeans and one of his old Hawkins High sweatshirts that you'd kept last month, and you were smiling at him like he wasn't about to walk into his own execution.
"Hey," you drawled, your hands finding his forearm when you leaned in to kiss him. "You look terrified."
"I'm not terrified," Steve lied. "I'm just... appropriately cautious."
You grimaced at his words, despite the fact that you found this mildly amusing." I should warn you, he's cleaning his gun."
"What?" He mumbled, all of the color draining from his face.
"Dad. He's at the kitchen table. Cleaning his gun." You said it so casually, like this was normal behavior. "He's been at it for twenty minutes, so I think he's doing it on purpose."
"Oh, God. Jesus fucking christ."
"Steve." You put your hands on his chest, looking up at him with those eyes that made him willing to face anything, even your father. "It's going to be okay. He's just being protective. He'll warm up to you."
"He told me last week that I had 'one of those faces.'"
"One of those faces..." You echoed before raising your eyebrows, "What kind of faces?"
"He didn't specify. Just said I had one of them and he didn't trust it."
You bit your lip, clearly trying not to laugh. "Okay, that's kinda funny."
"It's not funny! Your dad already hates me." He groaned, his head falling back against his shoulders and his hand on
"He doesn't hate you. He just... doesn't trust you yet." You smoothed down his collar, which didn't need smoothing. "But he will. Because you're a good guy, Steven. Even if you do have 'one of those faces.'"
Before Steve could respond (though his face did all of the talking), your dad's voice boomed from inside, "Is that Harrington? Tell him to stop lurking on my damn porch and get in here."
Steve's eyes widened. You just grinned and pulled him inside.
The cabin was warm and smelled like the pot roast you'd told him you were making. Under any other circumstances, it would have been cozy... welcoming, even. But there, at the kitchen table, sat Chief Jim Hopper in his full uniform, a disassembled service weapon spread out in front of him, a cleaning cloth in one hand.
He looked up when Steve entered, his expression unreadable.
"Harrington." Was the only greeting given, his eyes were fixed on your boyfriend and were narrowed in, what you assumed was, an attempt to threaten.
"Chief Hopper. Sir." Steve's voice came out higher than intended. He cleared his throat. "I, uh, brought these. For you." He held out the six pack like a shield.
Hopper looked at the beer, then at Steve, then back at the beer. "You tryna bribe a police officer?"
"What? No! I just thought—"
"It was a joke, I was shitting you." Hopper took the beer and set it aside without opening one. "Sit down."
It wasn't a request.
Steve sat, very aware that he was now directly across from a man who was methodically cleaning a gun. You moved around the kitchen behind him, checking on dinner so you didn't breathe down their necks but didn't leave Steve entirely alone, and he was trying to take comfort in your presence.
"So," Hopper began, running the cloth along the barrel. "You and my daughter have been seeing each other for what, three months now?"
"Yes, sir. Three months and.." Steve checked his watch, "...twelve days."
Your dad's eyebrow raised. "You're counting?" You glanced over the back of your shoulder and saw Steve cover his watch 'subtly' with his sleeve, which only made your smile grow.
Shit. Was that weird? That was probably weird. "I just mean, you know, approximately. Around that time frame. Give or take."
"Uh-huh." Hopper picked up another piece of the gun, examining it closely. "And what exactly are your intentions with my daughter, Harrington?"
Steve had prepared for this question. He'd practiced in the mirror. He had a whole speech ready about respecting you and caring about you and wanting to be someone worthy of you.
What came out was, "Uh... good ones?"
From the kitchen, he heard you stifle a laugh. When the two of them glanced at you, your shoulders straightened, and you quickly waved them off dismissively.
Hopper, however, didn't smile. "Good ones." He echoed, utterly unimpressed.
"Yes, sir. Very good. The best intentions. Extremely... intentional." Steve was sweating. He could actually feel sweat actually forming on his forehead. "I really care about your daughter, sir. She's-.. she's amazing. Smart and funny and way too good for me, honestly, but I'm trying to be better. Y'know, to be the kind of guy who deserves..."
"You got a job, Harrington?"
The sudden change in topic threw Steve off. "Yes, sir. At Family Video. With Robin. Robin Buckley. She's my best friend. Completely platonic," he added quickly, because the last thing he needed was Hopper thinking he was the kind of guy who had a girlfriend and a girl best friend in a non-platonic way.
"Family Video." Hopper reassembled part of the gun with practiced ease. "That the place on Main Street?"
Steve glanced over his shoulder to look at you before realizing he was in this conversation alone. Bringing his eyes back to your father he nodded, "Yeah-.. yes, sir."
"You planning on working retail forever?"
"I—no, sir. I mean, maybe? I haven't really figured out the whole future thing yet. But I'm working, and I'm saving money, and I'm thinking about maybe community college.."
"Community college." Hopper's tone was neutral, which somehow made it worse. "What would you study?"
Steve's mind went blank. What would he study? He hadn't actually thought that far ahead. "Education, maybe? I'm good with kids. I babysit... Okay, I mean, I look after some kids in town. Dustin Henderson, and the others. They're good kids."
"Henderson." Hopper echoed slowly, before giving a small and long nod. "The one with the, the hair and the attitude."
"That's him." Steve relaxed slightly. Common ground, jackpot. "He's a pain in the ass, but he's a good kid. They all are."
"So.. you spend your free time... babysitting a bunch of 13 year olds."
When he put it like that, it sounded weird. "They're 14 now, actually. And I don't-.. it's not babysitting, really. More like... making sure they don't get themselves killed."
Hopper's expression shifted, just slightly, into something that might have been understanding. "Kids are good at almost getting themselves killed."
You raised an eyebrow at your father's tone and kept your eyes on him when he glanced over his shoulder. Yeah, you figured that was a bit targeted.
"Yeah." Steve thought about the Upside Down, about all the times he'd put himself between those kids and danger. "Yeah, they really are."
There was a moment of silence. Hopper clicked another piece of the gun into place.
"Dad," you drawled from the kitchen, your tone warning. "Dinner's almost ready. Maybe you could finish that later?"
"I'm almost done." Hopper didn't look away from Steve. "So, Harrington. You ever been in trouble with the law?"
"No, sir."
"Never?"
Steve thought about the Russian base, about breaking into the mall, about approximately 17 other things that were definitely illegal. Yet, they were also something he didn't really want to explain at the moment. "Not officially."
"Not officially," Hopper repeated. "What the hell does that mean?"
"It means..." Steve scrambled for an explanation that wouldn't involve mentioning the conspiracies he's cooked up or heard from Robin and Eddie. The type of theories that would definitely get him strange looks and get him kicked out of the Hopper household. "It means I've made some mistakes, but I've never been arrested or anything. I'm a good guy. I swear."
"You swear."
"Yes, sir."
Hopper leaned back in his chair, the gun now fully reassembled in front of him. He didn't pick it up, but its presence was wholly impossible to ignore. "Let me tell you something, Harrington. I've been a cop for a long time. Very long time. And in that time, I've learned to read people pretty well. You know what I see when I look at you?"
Steve's mouth went dry, his tongue darted out to nervously lick his lip, and suddenly his posture was impeccable. "What, sir?"
"I see a kid who's trying real hard to be something he's not sure how to be." Hopper's eyes were sharp, assessing. "I see someone who's used to getting by on his looks and his daddy's money, who's now trying to figure out who he is without all that."
It was so accurate that Steve felt like he'd been punched. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
"Dad," you interrupted, your brows scrunched and the utensils left on the countertop so you could cross the kitchen. "That's enough."
"I'm not done." Hopper held up a hand, but his tone softened slightly. "I also see a kid who, according to Flo at the station, volunteers to give those kids rides pretty much anywhere they need to go, and keeps them out of trouble. Who works a honest job and shows up on time." He paused. "And who looks at my daughter like she hung the damn moon."
Steve blinked. Was that... good?
"But here's the thing," Hopper continued, and his voice went hard again. "I don't care how you look at her. I don't care if you think she's the best damn thing that ever happened to you. What I care about is how you treat her. You understand me?"
"Yes, sir."
"You hurt her, and I don't care if it's on purpose or by accident, I don't care if you're fighting interdimensional monsters or saving the world.." Steve wasn't sure if that would hold up in actuality, but he kept his attention on your father nonetheless, "...I will make your life very difficult. We clear?"
"Crystal clear."
"Good." Hopper stood, picking up the gun and its cleaning supplies. "Dinner ready?" he asked you, his voice dropping into something much softer .
"Has been for five minutes," you deadpanned dryly. "I was waiting for you to finish threatening my boyfriend, which I don't appreciate by the way."
"Wasn't threatening. Was clarifying expectations." Hopper moved past Steve, pausing to clap a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You can stay for dinner, Harrington. But you're doing dishes after."
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
As Hopper disappeared down the hall, presumably to put away the gun, Steve let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. You immediately moved to his side, running your fingers through his hair.
"You okay?"
"I think I just aged ten years," Steve said, but he was smiling, and you could practically feel the tension dropping from his body as your fingers carded through his hair (without messing the styling, of course).
"But hey." You tilted his face up to look at you, a bright smile pulling at your glossy lips that pressed gently against his. "He's letting you stay for dinner. That's progress."
"He made me promise not to hurt you while cleaning a gun."
"Yeah, that's kind of his thing." You kissed his forehead, then his lips, then grabbed his hands between yours despite barely being able to contain your amusement. "But you handled it well. Very respectful. Even when you were clearly panicking."
He let out an offended breath and a quiet mumble, his eyes landing on you with some sass behind them, "I wasn't panicking."
"Steve, you told him your intentions were 'extremely intentional.'"
He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. "I'm so bad at this."
"You're not." Your fingers traced patterns on the back of his neck. "You're sweet. And you're trying. And that matters."
You could feel his incoherent grumbles against the crook of your neck. His arms snaking around your waist loosely while he mustered up something you could actually hear, "Yeah, but does it matter to him?"
"More than you think." You pulled back to look at him. "He wouldn't have invited you to stay if he didn't see something in you. Trust me."
Hopper returned before Steve could respond, and faster than he could drop his arms from your waist (and his hands from your ass). For his own sanity, your father decided to pretend he didn't see that, especially since he had just taken the time to change out of his uniform and into a flannel. He looked almost normal, almost approachable. Almost.
"Harrington, make yourself useful and set the table," he said, moving to help you with finishing touches of dinner.
Steve jumped up immediately. "Yes, sir. Where are the—"
Before he could even finish his question, you placed into his arms a stack of three plates with forks and knives balanced on top. "Right here, but for future reference, they're in the corner cabinet on the top right." You winked and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
As Steve began , he watched you and your dad move around the kitchen together, the easy rhythm of people who'd been doing this for years. Hopper said something that made you laugh, and you hip checked him in retaliation since your hands were full, and Steve felt something warm settle in his chest.
This was what he wanted. Not just you — though.. God, he wanted you — but this.. family dinners and inside jokes and belonging somewhere. Being part of something.
"You gonna stand there all night or you gonna set that damn table?" Hopper asked, but there was something almost amused in his tone.
"Right. My bad. On it." Steve moved quickly, arranging plates and forks and trying not to mess up something as simple as table setting.
Dinner was less terrifying than the pre dinner interrogation, though Hopper still asked pointed questions about Steve's plans, his job, his relationship with you. But he also told stories—about his early days as a cop, about you as a kid, about Hawkins before everything went to hell.
And Steve, despite his nerves, found himself relaxing. Laughing, even. Especially when you told the story about the time Hopper had tried to teach you to drive and you'd accidentally driven through Mrs. Gillespie's fence.
"In my defense," you piped up quickly, your fork flying up and pointing at Hopper accusatorily, "you were yelling instructions and I panicked."
"I was calmly telling you to brake," Hopper corrected.
Your fork settled on your plate with a clink, and you were turned in your chair to face him fully now. The look on your face both amused and baffled all at once at his recount of the story, "You were yelling 'BRAKE, BRAKE, BRAKE' at the top of your lungs."
Shrugging with a mouth full of food, and already shoveling more into it, Hopper shook his head, "Because you weren't braking, I don't see how I'm the one at fault here."
Steve laughed, and caught Hopper almost smiling. Almost.
After dinner, Steve did the dishes as promised while you put away leftovers and Hopper settled into his armchair with a beer—one of the ones Steve had brought, he noticed.
"You missed a spot," Hopper called from the living room.
Steve looked at the plate he was washing. It was spotless. "Uh-...?"
"I'm messing with you, kid."
You grinned at Steve from across the kitchen. He shook his head but couldn't help smiling back.
When the dishes were done and the kitchen was clean, Steve knew he should probably leave. It was getting late, and he'd already pushed his luck by staying this long. But you walked him to the door, and Hopper followed, because of course he did.
"Thank you for dinner," Steve said, offering his hand to Hopper. "It was really good. And thank you for, uh, having me over."
Hopper looked at Steve's hand for a long moment before shaking it. His grip was firm but not crushing. "You did alright tonight, Harrington."
It was possibly the best compliment Steve had ever received.
"Drive safe," Hopper added. "And get her home by ten thirty tomorrow night."
"We're going to the movies," you explained to Steve. "But, dad I'm in college, I stay out later than ten thirty all the time...."
"Ten. Thirty." Hopper repeated, looking at you before Steve.
"Ten thirty, aye aye captain."
Hopper nodded and retreated back inside, leaving you and Steve alone on the porch.
"See?" you whispered happily, wrapping your arms around his torso, your chin pressing against his chest and your cheeks puffed in a bright smile. "That wasn't so bad."
"Your dad cleaned his gun in front of me for 45 minutes, babe."
"Yeah, but he let you stay for dinner. And he shook your hand. That's huge."
Steve pulled you closer, resting his chin on top of your head. "I really like you," he muttered quietly against your hair. "Like, a lot. More than a lot."
"I really like you too." You looked up at him. "Even though you turn into a nervous wreck around my dad."
"Can you blame me? He's terrifying."
"He's literally a teddy bear, Steve."
"He's a teddy bear with a gun and a badge and the ability to make my body disappear."
You laughed, and Steve kissed you, soft and sweet, very aware that your dad was probably watching from the window.
I love every side of Eddie's personality that the authors wish to explore. I love overconfident Eddie. I love Eddie who's just a pathetic little nerd twink. I love Eddie who's secure in his sexuality. I love virgin Eddie. I love Eddie that thinks everything can be a joke (until it isn't, until it's too real). I love sentimental Eddie. I love oblivious Eddie. I love Eddie who can't hide that he wants Steve. I love Eddie who's too scared to have his feelings hurt. I love Eddie who's got a huge crush on Steve since he became King Steve. I love Eddie who couldn't give a shit about Steve until the Upside Down made them bond. I love Eddie who thought he hated Steve but realized he just wants him. Badly.
