Steve Harrington pounding you into the mattress while Glenn Frey’s ‘You Belong To The City’ plays in the background…
~*~
The faded blue of the music video on the television set, that casts light in the darkness of his bedroom.
“Fuck. Yeah, honey. Come on and take my big cock like a good girl.”
Your head is falling to the side, Steve’s messy strands tickling your forehead on every rough movement, nose nudging your cheek, sometimes your eyelashes, your limbs lathered in slippery sweat, the kind of perspiration that’ll stay heavy on your skin, not long after he’s spent and lighting his first post-sex cigarette, making you want to slide down between his legs and take up a permanent residence. His gold chain slaps at your heaving bosom, stubble bitten jaw nicking your jugular as he leaves his claim behind. His big palms are all over you, squeezing and pinching. Is this how you go out? So out of it and full of his massive size, that you can’t tell where he begins and you end. Only knowing that your mouths meet every other minute to share panting breaths and weak kisses that are just grazes of swollen lips.
His hairy knees ram into the backs of your thighs, dull balls pressing, he’s driving you further up the mattress on every single thrust, his hands reaching to pin yours beside your head. “Pussy is so fucking creamy, you should be ashamed of yourself for being this wet and ruining my brand new sheets.”
You watch his bushy chest drag your breasts and stimulate your nipples until your toes are curling, legs spreading impossibly wider. He’s encouraging further. “You tryna take me deeper? Holy shit, honey. You’re my little slut, aren’t you?”
A saxophone background track and sex with Steve Harrington should not be legal to indulge in at the sametime. Hell, you’d break every law, even if it wasn’t.
Billy being used as the host of the demogorgon or another entity in season 3 and he’s not himself. Terrorising Hawkins, doing creepy shit, but no one really notices or cares because it’s Billy. Everyone thinks he’s just being his usual cocky self, just being extra mean and rude. Because the entity is kinda sly you know. And Billy doesn’t have any real friends or family (maybe Susan), so they don’t care why he hasn’t been home in 2 days or why he’s stopped attacking Max so much. But Steve is the only one who has the guts to stand forward and help. The kids are against it, saying that he deserves it. But Steve is like, “We need to get the asshole back!” If the entity turned him scarily nice. Or “We’re the only one’s able to help. I don’t like the guy, but he’s a human too.” If he’s been possessed by an evil entity. This isn’t Harringrove btw (but if you’re into that, it can). And like Steve drags the kids with him to save Billy, and at the end they all become kind of friends. Billy is obviously very gracious and thankful, but he still masks his real emotions with being a dickhead. Until he cracks a smile at something sarcastic Lucas has said to Mike. He finally finds some real friends, potential, love, respect, and compassion. He feels like he can finally be himself.
Steve Harrington would wake you up on Mother’s Day by feather light kisses along your shoulder blade and neck, across your cheeks and the rest of your face, nuzzling, inhaling. His five o’clock shadow would tickle your flesh in electrifying prickles. He’s here, he’s warm. He smells like bacon grease and laundry detergent, with a hint of baby Harrington’s favorite baby food this month — banana apple pear. He would cook you breakfast in bed, serve it, then dive into his breakfast between your legs. It’s all about you and what you went through to give him his little boy or girl — or both.
There’s flowers, pancake and syrup kisses, a homemade gift of a handprint that Steve had helped the toddler with (you wanna melt when you imagine your baby’s hand in your husband’s much larger one, making one of your gifts) . Then there is lounging out on the picnic blanket and watching your little baby stumble on chubby legs as they attempt to walk back and forth between you and Steve, their toes in the grass. You spend a majority of the day with your baby, that is until dinner with yours and Steve’s mom (typical exchanges), and he’s surprised you by arranging for your mom to take the baby for the rest of the night, so that he can focus on you.
That’s when the wine comes out and the pizza you and Steve made together, fills your bellies. He dances slowly to some records with you, singing and kissing along your jawline, mumbling his love and appreciation. And later that night when he lays you down in bed, he worships every stretch mark and dent you bore from having the baby. You’ve never been more beautiful to him.
And hey, if you’re not already pregnant, he wouldn’t be opposed to trying for another today…
Steve looks at every pair of breasts he sees with new eyes. Because everyone is different, so it’s like the first time he sees a pair.
His fingers are gentle, unless you’re begging for tugging, twisting, or his personal favorite - teeth.
He worships the areola with gentle grazes of his point finger and his thumbpad, before it results in him pinching your nipple and flicking the hardening bud. He loves to press light kisses, get his breath near your nipples where you want him most.
If you permit him to leave marks behind, that drives him to a wild state. A frenzy.
He particularly enjoys when your tits are sensitive from your period (or being pregnant/nursing in the future).
He loves to slide his cock in between and watch how it glides, or when he’s coming all over your chest and it drips over your nipples. He’ll short circuit if you lick his spend off your own nipple.
And his hand, my god your breasts look so good in his hand. When he’s cupping and rolling, jiggling. He loves having his hands all over you. Loves to rest his head there, whether you’re having sex or not.
Steve loves your breasts, no matter what size. All tits make that man happy! ^_^
Oh my god… Well, this took on a mind of its own… I’ll have to release my other full length fic w/ this kink someday! I hope you enjoy it!? Tysm for the ask! And these are just some headcanons of what I think. Idk if Steve would be as into it as Eddie, but I think he’d be down for it in the long run, especially if his partner is! And there’s something so much more wild about this kink with Stevie boy!
I’m so going to hell… 🙊
~*~
Warnings: Language, smut, vaginal fingering, references to masturbation, oral & vaginal sex, piss kink/watersports, and overall NSFW content!
The first time that it happened, it was an accident. Steve was fucking into you at a relentless pace with his fingers, curling into that spot. Having been unable to wait to have you, and you thinking you’d be able to get home and pee, then shower, before seeing him later in the evening — to say you had been shocked when he showed up to give you a ride instead of your coworker, that was an understatement. You couldn’t deny him, as you wanted him just as bad. However, you were clenching and holding vice onto muscles in your pelvic floor and thighs, berating yourself for not going before you left the building. And there in an abandoned parking lot, with your boyfriend’s insanely thick fingers inside of you — you were about to have a big problem.
“Steve…”
“Mhm, honey. So wet and warm for me. Waited all day for you, for this. Never can believe it’s real —“
“Steve, stop,” you’d warned him.
That throaty laugh occurred, but he then looked at you in concern. Your eyes were still glazed over, your legs wide open. But something was off. He makes the mistake of moving one finger against your sopping walls, meaning to pull his digits out, and it was happening.
“Please, I —“ Is all you got out before the first spray of yellow liquid is coating his hand and the leather of the seat below, even splashing onto your panties and jeans around your ankles, pooling onto the floor board.
With the fabric of your clothing in the way, you couldn’t close your legs fast enough, so you attempted to bear down and hold the rest, eyes glistening with tears, throat damp with embarrassment. It’s silent, the lights glittering from the street lamps and reflecting the crystal of his car’s windshield. And… part of the mess you had made. You didn’t waste a second, trying to reach for your clothing in hasty retreat.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I tried to stop it. I’m fucking disgusting, I know. Just take me home now, or I’ll walk —“
“Honey. Can you calm down for me for a minute? A second, maybe?” The raspy break in his voice had you looking through your panicked babble, directly at him.
You weren’t prepared to see him with a palm over his swollen denim bulge. He was hard before, yeah, but seeing you let go like that, it was so… raw. He was aching tremendously against his zipper, finger hovering above his belt buckle. Wait, was he… He was into this?
“You’re not mad?” You swallowed harshly, watching in slow motion as his hand moved to cup your damp cunt, not oblivious to the mixture of piss and cream that had dripped out of you.
He shakes those beautiful tresses. “You didn’t finish, did you?”
“I didn’t come, no, but that’s okay —“
“Baby. S’ not what I mean.” His jugular bobbled along a harsh intake of air, then he questioned you. “You still have to pee, right?”
“Well… Yeah, but I can hold the rest —“ The burning inside your body was scorching you. Unprepared is a comedic term for your reaction to his next wonder, your jaw nearly unhinging with a snap.
“Finish for me. Can you do that? While I touch you some more?”
Your eyes had widened and he almost backed out, but didn’t. He trusted you, both of you mostly in synch on things, especially in the bedroom. You were into this too, if any indication by your expelled pant and thighs trapping his wrist.
“But your car —“
“Can be cleaned, baby.”
And that was how it started, more or less. His hand fisting his fat cock as he fingered you to orgasm, all the while you pissed down his wrist and soaked the car his daddy bought for him when he was King Steve, and you were in different circles.
~*~
- King Steve would’ve been into it too, let’s be honest. Marking you, claiming you, humiliating you. He’d have you begging him to piss on or in you — your cunt, ass, and mouth. He owns you.
- When Steve became softer, he was so much more open about liking it, about how it turns both of you on.
- He would piss on you in public settings, have you pee on him, followed by orgasms that left you both breathless after.
- If you acted like a brat, you knew the special punishment he was concocting, what it would contain.
- He loves to make you hold it and watch how he can test your limits before your burst. Your cute shame makes his balls drawl up.
- Isn’t afraid to lick you clean. If he’s feeling bold, if you’re both comfortable — he’ll let it come directly from the source. (This man bit into the flesh and blood of an underworld creature, so who cares about a little piss from the partner he simps over?)
- Asked you to soak his parents staircase and bed before.
- Asks if he can watch you go.
- Gets this look in his eyes when he wants it. “Brought some stuff.” And it’s a towel and wet wipes. That’s the tell-tale sign.
- You peed on his chest and soaked the chest hair and he came untouched one time… Then asked him to piss on your tits.
- Your favorite thing is holding yourself open as he relieves himself on your clit and wet cunt. He uses it to rub you to your climax after.
- Another thing you both favor, is when he pisses inside of you (his personal favorite), as he’s fucking you, and when you go as he fingers you or touches you.
- Likes to come in and pee through your legs while you’re using the restroom. One time, he even had you straddle him as you both went. It was messy, but you tried, and you loved it.
- Jerks himself off beneath the spray of you. You touch yourself as he uses you too.
• I’m sure I have more, but my brain is on nasty overload rn. I’m hiding in shame now 😭
When your newborn sneezes and Steve grins, causing the baby to giggle. And he’s saying softly, cooing at him. “Bless you. That was a big one, huh, little guy?” And baby boy Harrington kicks his little basketball onesie covered feet into his daddy’s chest, his tiny head cradled into Steve’s massive palm, identical colored irises staring back at one another.
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…
