Pinned
Chai tea bag + lil but of brown sugar + apple cider packet + 16 oz. mug of hot but not quite boiling water
it will not Fix You but like. maybe. maybe.
Update: this is the best post I've ever made because everyone is sharing their Warm Beverage recipes in the notes. Go check the notes for more Warm Beverages That Will Fix You.
Steve Harrington x gf!reader
Dating Steve Harrington feels a little unreal.
Not in the he’s too good to be true way, though sometimes, yeah, that too, but in the way that makes you feel like you’ve stepped into a life already in motion. Like you’ve joined in halfway through a story everyone else already knows by heart.
Steve is sweet in ways that catch you off guard. He remembers small things. He calls when he says he will. He drives you home even when you insist you’re fine. When he kisses you, it’s slow and warm and intentional, like he’s making sure you’re really there with him.
But there’s a part of his life you don’t touch.
Not yet.
His friends.
You meet them for the first time on a Saturday.
Steve picks you up, nervous in that endearing way where he keeps running a hand through his hair and asking if you’re okay. He tells you it’s “no big deal,” that they’re “just hanging out,” but you can tell he wants this to go well.
The door opens, and suddenly you’re surrounded by noise.
Teenagers arguing loudly about god knows what. A couple cuddling on the couch. A girl with short hair and sharp eyes who lights up the second she sees Steve.
“Harrington!” she says, grinning wide as she crosses the room and, without hesitation, throws her arms around him.
Your stomach drops.
Steve laughs, easy and familiar, hugging her back like it’s second nature. “Hey, Robs.”
Robs.
She pulls back but doesn’t let go completely, hands still gripping his jacket as she looks him over. “You’re late. Again. Shocking.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, smiling. “Traffic.”
Then he remembers you.
“Oh—uh, this is my girlfriend,” he says quickly, stepping aside to gesture toward you. “This is—”
You give your name, smiling politely.
Robin looks at you, really looks at you, then breaks into another grin. “Oh. Oh. So this is her.”
Her.
The word sticks with you.
Robin Buckley doesn’t do anything wrong.
That’s the worst part.
She’s funny. Smart. Quick with a comment that makes everyone laugh. She knows Steve in a way you don’t, finishes his sentences, teases him mercilessly, steals food off his plate without asking.
She leans close when she talks to him. Touches his arm. Calls him “Harrington” like it’s a private joke.
And Steve lets her.
Not in a secretive way. Not in a guilty way.
In a comfortable way.
You tell yourself it’s nothing. That you’re new. That of course there’s history you don’t share yet.
Still, every time she laughs with him, something tightens in your chest.
It gets worse when Steve leaves your side without noticing.
Not intentionally. Never intentionally. But he gets pulled into conversations, into memories, into a rhythm with his friends that you don’t know how to step into.
You sit on the couch, smiling when spoken to, watching Robin and Steve argue about a movie they’ve apparently watched together a dozen times.
“You cried,” Robin says.
“I did not cry,” Steve protests.
“You absolutely cried.”
“You were crying!”
“At least I admit my feelings, Harrington!”
They’re close. Too close.
You excuse yourself to the kitchen, pretending to look for a drink you don’t need.
Your reflection in the fridge door looks small.
Steve finds you there a few minutes later.
“Hey,” he says softly. “You okay?”
You nod too quickly. “Yeah. Just needed some air.”
He frowns, stepping closer. “Did I do something?”
“No,” you say. Then, quieter, “I just… I didn’t realize how… close you all were.”
Steve relaxes a little. “Oh. Yeah. We’ve been through a lot together.”
You hesitate. “You and Robin seem… really close.”
He smiles, fond and easy. “Yeah. She’s my best friend.”
Best friend.
The words land harder than you expect.
“Oh,” you say.
Steve doesn’t notice the way your shoulders tense. “You don’t have anything to worry about, okay?”
You force a smile. “I know.”
But you don’t.
It gnaws at you afterward.
Every time Robin calls him. Every time he laughs at something she says before you even hear it. Every time he talks about “we” when he means them.
You don’t bring it up.
You tell yourself you don’t want to be that girlfriend. The jealous one. The insecure one.
But one night, it slips.
Steve is on the phone with Robin, pacing your living room, laughing about something you’re not part of. When he hangs up, you’re quiet.
He notices immediately.
“Hey,” he says, sitting beside you. “What’s wrong?”
You stare at your hands. “Are you… in love with her?”
The question hangs between you, fragile and heavy.
Steve freezes. “What?”
“With Robin,” you say, voice shaking despite yourself. “Because sometimes it feels like there’s already someone in your life, and I’m just—”
He cuts you off, startled. “No. No, no—hey.”
He reaches for your hands, grounding, warm. “I’m not in love with Robin.”
You swallow. “Then why does it feel like she knows you better than I do?”
Steve exhales slowly, like he finally understands.
“Because she’s known me longer,” he says gently. “Because she was there when things were really bad. But that doesn’t mean what we have isn’t real.”
You look up at him. “It just feels like I’m competing with her.”
His expression softens completely.
“You’re not,” he says. “I promise.”
Then, almost as an afterthought, “Also… Robin’s a lesbian.”
You blink. “She’s a what?”
Steve lets out a small, awkward laugh. “Yeah. She likes girls. Very much. Has never, at any point, liked me like that. Trust me, I would know.”
Heat floods your face.
“Oh.”
He squeezes your hands. “She’s my best friend. You’re my girlfriend. Those aren’t the same thing.”
You laugh weakly. “I feel really stupid.”
“Don’t,” he says immediately. “You felt left out. That’s on me.”
You look at him. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I should’ve made sure you knew you belonged. With me. With them.”
The knot in your chest finally loosens.
The next time you see Robin, it’s different.
She slings an arm around your shoulders like you’ve always been there. Tells you embarrassing stories about Steve. Calls you “good taste” with a wink.
And when you catch Steve watching you laugh with her, there’s nothing but relief on his face.
Later, when he kisses you goodbye, it’s slow and certain.
“You’re it for me,” he murmurs against your forehead.
And for the first time since stepping into his world, you believe him.
Football player!Gojo who’s in every magazine and headline, who’s in every sports news and every Tiktok edit, who has a fanbase rabid for the hotshot player and yet…everytime they asking him about his love life he stays silent. The player famous for his yapping…is silent?
Football player!Gojo who has this ritual of looking to the fans every time he scores a goal- and of course he’ll wink at his fan clubs, of course he’ll smize for the camera and send the editing community into a frenzy. But sometimes he almost looks as though he looking for something - someone.
Football player!Gojo who slips up after winning the biggest match of his life. World Cup. Finals. Tears streaming down his cheeks as the camera is pushed into his face- and he can barely get away from his embracing team to speak. “To my beautiful pregnant wife—this is for you. This is for you. This is for you.” The internet explodes.
"please? it's the only way i can fall asleep." ☆
you can hardly hear choso's words, they're muffled into the crook of your neck, but you can hear the desperation in his tone as clear as day. he always gets like this when he's been away... touchy. horny.
"i'm pretty sure i've seen you sleep standing up like a horse," you grumble, trying (and failing) to push the mass of body weight off you. "we just had sex, cho, i've got enough of you inside me as it is. we don't need to cockwarm."
you aren't wrong, he told you he's been 'saving up' for you, and it wasn't an understatement. he's only been away for a week, but you're almost bloating with what feels like a months worth of unspent cum inside of you. you'd think, if he weren't so insistent about keeping you all to himself, that he was trying to fuck a baby into you.
"even better," he lifts his head and looks down at you, his cock already hard again and pressing against your sore thigh. "i can... plug you up. keep it in."
"very unhygienic. do you know anything about PH?"
"what? i don't use that site anymore. it makes my stomach hurt. feels like cheating."
"no, i mean—" you blink up at your boyfriend. "wait, what?"
"why would i want to watch other people do those things? i'm not a cockholder."
"cuckold, baby."
"i'm not a cuckold."
you can't help the laugh that slips past your lips. it makes choso laugh too, though you're sure he doesn't know why the two of you are laughing.
laughter turns into kisses somehow, as it usually does, and then kisses quickly turn into a wet tongue trailing down the column of your neck. his tongue laves at the juncture of your throat and shoulder, slow and sloppy like it's new skin he's exploring and not the same flesh he's conquered ten times tonight.
"wanna fall asleep inside of you," he pleads. "i'll be so good, i won't move or anything. you'll hardly notice me."
well that's a fucking lie if you've ever heard one. choso is more than big, and has a tendency to force your body to tighten up around him in some twisted biological ploy to keep him inside of you.
still, the idea is appealing. you always find yourself melting into his pleads, especially since he asks so nicely... "fine," you groan. "okay. you can put it back in, but we are going to sleep."
"i promise," he practically moans already pulling one thigh open to fit himself at your entrance. "thank you thank you thank you."
despite having taken him countless times already, you still gasp at the stretch of him pushing inside of you. you wonder if you'll ever get used to it.
he drapes his weight over you once he's buried himself to the hilt and you let out a deep sigh in turn. you can only describe how well he fits inside of you as natural—like every inch of him was moulded to fit your heat without fail.
"see?" he whispers against your jaw, kissing the corner of your mouth before tucking his face back into the crook of your neck. "i could stay like this forever."
and for a little while, he does. he relaxes fully, the only indicator of him still being awake is the sweet hums he lets out as you card your fingers through his hair and scratch gently at his scalp. and, despite his weight on top of you, relaxation takes hold quick, and you find yourself drifting off into the comfortable embrace of slumber.
until he moves, of course. his shoulders tense and his face scrunches up against your neck in obvious frustration.
"don't," you keep your eyes shut beneath him. "don't you dare."
he shifts against you, cock twitching where it’s locked deep inside. "but—"
"choso."
he groans pitifully and lifts his head just enough to look down at you. "i need to move."
"you promised," you crack one eye open to look at the flush decorating his cheeks, visible even in the low light. you try and keep a stern look on your face, but you're already shifting your hips in anticipation. "we need to sleep."
choso's forehead drops down to press against yours. he screws his eyes shut, looking a lot more distraught than need be. "i know, but i..." he swallows hard, and you can feel the pulsing of his cock inside of you, "...i wanna fuck you so bad."
this is a repost from my old deactivated account. i didn’t steal this, and if you say otherwise im gonna put unsavoury things in ya bum and make you bark like a dog
congratulations on 3k followers!! for the celebration, can i please request "youre such a tease" from list one and number nine from list two with subby steve? so excited for you!!
months late... forgeev me <3 i had mucho fun with sub steve as i always do :D 2.1k, gn!reader, handjobs, sub!steve MDNI this entire blog is 18+
The spray of the outside shower is nowhere near as cold as the ocean.
In fact, the water in the pipes has been slowly heating all day, so it's rather warm when starts trickling out. It could barely be considered a sprinkle though, much less a shower.
You look up at the shower head, a tad corroded from weathering the outdoors, then shift your gaze to Steve. You silently raise an eyebrow.
"It'll work," He dismisses you with a wave of his hand, focus fixed on the shower head. "It always works."
It probably shouldn’t—like the rest of the house, one of Steve's parents' beach getaways, it's ancient.
Yet, against all odds, the showers splutters and then miraculously turns on.
Steve turns to you with a far too cocky grin. "What'd I tell you?"
"how are you a virgin and this perverted?" ☆
your best friend geto looks like he's been accosted. eyes wide, jaw slack, face all but screwed up in surprise at the words that have just come out of your mouth. what was it you said you were reading about? triple penetration? he might pass out.
you can't help but laugh at the look he's giving you. "what? you didn't watch porn when you were still a virgin?"
without warning, he snatches your phone right out of your hand and squints at the screen. "my porn was tasteful," he tsks. "this is... uncouth."
"uncouth?" you try to take back your phone, just for him to roll over in bed and hold it out of reach. you're half on top of him in seconds, clawing at his bulky arm. "give it back!"
"what is dac..." he stifles a laugh at the way you try so desperately for your archive of erotica. "...dacryphilia?"
"you don't know? what, no game? no hoes? bitches?"
"i manage, thank you," he rolls the both of you over and pins you down against the mattress, which has your breath hitching in your throat for some reason. it makes him smirk like a fucking idiot. "what, nervous?"
no... yes? you don't know. suguru has never made you feel nervous... jittery, maybe. you'd use nauseous, in both the good and bad way. sometimes he gives you this look that makes you feel like you have food poisoning. your body seems to react to him at the extreme.
you've always been touchy with each other. your friendship has been physical since day one—if you aren't touching, you're not in the same room. it's just how it's always been, a hand on his arm as you walk together, or his arm around your shoulders when you're seated. it's... normal. familiar.
so this —suguru pinning you down by the wrists, his long black hair falling down to tunnel your vision right onto that pretty face of his—probably shouldn't get you this wet.
or wet at all, really.
"tears," you say, for some fucking reason. "dacryphilia, it's crying, or making someone cry. like being overstimulated, or... humiliated, to the point of tears. or just crying for the sake of it."
geto looks down at you, and you try not to watch the muscles of his arms bulge as he keeps you locked beneath him. "i know."
you frown. "you know?"
"i just wanted to hear you try and explain it," he laughs. "fucking pervert."
"i'm going to kill you slowly," you wriggle beneath him. "get off me, suguru."
"or what? you'll cry? i think you're into that..." he teases, and manages to shift both of your wrists into one hand so that he can reach for your phone again. he thumbs it open and resumes your 'history' tab with a shit-eating grin. "virginity loss... best friends to lovers... size kink... corruption... breeding ? really?"
"shut the fuck up," you hiss. you buck your hips up, not to throw him off—because you can admit he's bigger, heavier and a whole lot stronger than you are—but out of pure frustration. except your movement only presses you tighter against where his thighs cage your hips, and you freeze. you think something pathetic leaves your lips, but you can't quite hear yourself over the mortification bubbling up in your chest.
"oh?" he notices, of course.you want to claw his stupid handsome face off. "don't tell me this is working for you."
"it's not," you snap. "you are so fucking full of yourself, geto."
"suguru," he corrects you. "say it properly. and by the look on your face right now i'd wager that you'd rather be the one full of me."
god you hate him sometimes. "embarrassing me isn't funny."
"it's a little funny."
"fuck you."
"you look like you'd love to," he lowers his hips a little, and for the first time in your life, you feel the weight of a rock-hard cock pressing against you. "tell me to stop and i will. we can go get food or something, forget this happened."
the switch in tone from teasing to gentle makes you smile, which makes keeping up the disgruntled act a lot harder. the thought of verbalising your need right now makes you nauseous, so you opt instead for a shake of your head.
"great," he nods, and slowly releases your wrists. "you can take that back whenever you want, just tell me and i'll back off."
"what are you..." you're cut off when suguru hands you your phone back with a scrunched up nose.
"read it," he says. "out loud. if you stop, i stop."
you're confused only until you check your screen and see that geto has opened up one of your most recently read pieces and scrolled down to a rather graphic scene of the main character being eaten out by her best friend. it's a little ironic, considering the state you're in, but you can't bring yourself to be embarrassed when your own best friend is kissing down your stomach and hooking his fingers under the waistband of your shorts.
he's going to go down on you? but he's hard, and for as much porn as you've read, most of it depicts the guy taking what he wants.
"aren't you going to... you know? fuck me?"
your shorts and panties are pulled down in one swift movement, and suguru buries his face in your thigh to stifle his laugh. his body shakes with the force of it, which makes you frown. your pussy is a few inches from his face, and he's laughing like the prospect of taking your virginity is funny.
"you couldn't take me," he smiles up at you. "now read."
suddenly self-conscious, you try clamp your thighs shut, just to (once again) find yourself pinned down by his strong arms. "this is weird," you whine. "you're my... i mean we... you know? friends. best friends ."
holding eye contact, suguru slowly lowers himself down to press a chaste kiss to your clit. it's not much contact, but it makes you jolt nonetheless. doesn't feel like how you had imagined it when you'd lay in bed late at night with your nose in a book and your hand between your legs. this is... better. feels right.
"still weird?" he asks, to which you nod without really meaning it. "weird like your porn on that phone?"
"suguru i swear to god if you don't—oh my god."
you forgive that man for all of the teasing he'd one as soon as he gets to work on you. flattening out his tongue against your pussy and tasting you for the first time has him already grinding against the mattress, and has you squeezing your eyes shut as you try to process this new realm of pleasure. you're glad he doesn't tease you for being so wet, but that he instead uses it to his advantage and starts making an even bigger mess of you.
his lips latch around your clit for only a few seconds. he hollows out your cheeks and you think you might die with how overwhelming the sensation is, but it's over all too soon. geto pulls back to do two things:
one, tie his hair out of his face, and two, tell you to start reading.
not wanting to miss out on these newfound pleasures of the flesh , you unlock your phone and start on a random spot on the screen, your voice a lot more shaky than you want it to be.
" he, uh... he ducks down and licks a stripe from entrance to clit, collecting... collecting her wetness on his tongue and falling in love with the taste of her enjoyments. "
suguru, suddenly good at following instructions, does as written and leads his tongue upwards. you moan at the contact, but notice suguru starting to pull away at your lack of reading, so you go on.
"she loves the way he feels. he kisses her, uh, sweet center, before continuing to use his tongue to toy with her."
you can feel suguru smiling against you. "sweet center?" he laughs, but continues his ministries nonetheless. you roll your eyes, this has been a lot better of a read when your brain was fogged with unsated need. longing for the man that is now between your legs.
"growing messy, his focus shifts to her clit. his tongue dances with the bud of nerves as he brings two fingers of his left hand, ring and all, and pushes them inside of her. curling upwards until she—"
"is that what you want?" suguru cuts you off.
"yeah, yes. i think. just go slow."
"keep reading."
you clear your throat as suguru starts tracing circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue. he looks a little silly doing that, you note as you glance down to enjoy the view for a moment, but god does it feel good.
"curling upwards until she's an ecstatic mess of fulfilled wants. he completes her, in both soul and now flesh. fills her with his fingers in preparation for his—oh god, suguru, right there."
you hadn't even noticed him pushing into you, you were that eager to feel more of him. his fingers curl up as described in your reading material and suddenly he's brushing over a spot you've never discovered on your own. it blurs your vision, sends your skin hot.
"can't.. can't read anymore," you whine, bucking your hips up in some masochistic need for more. anything bigger than this and you'd keel over, you think, but you'd take anything suguru was willing to give you. "gonna—"
he allows it. encourages it, even. quickens his pace on the fingers plunging in and out of you, and starts making out with your pussy like a drunken virgin would. it's good in a way that shouldn't be: messy and needy and you think perhaps that suguru is just as close to coming as you are.
your orgasm is intense. your back arching off the bed and your body trying hopelessly to get more of sugurus touch. you think you moan his name, though it could be a babbled string of 'i love you's that you'll refuse to acknowledge later on in hopes that giving you head wasn't enough to ruin your friendship.
suguru moans loudly against your pussy as he tastes your release, the vibrations no help for your sensitivity, but his hips are stuttering against the mattress and you can tell even through your haze that you've made the cocky idiot cum in his pants.
serves him right.
and because the two of you are friends before you are... whatever this is, the both of you are falling into a fit of laughter upon your comedowns. suguru's lips glisten and your chest heaves with each breath you take, and he's climbing up the bed to press a kiss to your cheek.
"better than reading about it?" he asks.
"nope," you grin, which earns you a mean look that soon gives way to another laugh from him. "you could do it again some time if you wanted, though."
"please. i want to find out what skills you've picked up reading all of that weird shit." he pulls you into his arms and, despite being a little sweaty, you find yourself melting comfortably into his embrace.
"you couldn't keep up with me," you sing-song.
"yeah? try me."
"ever heard of male sounding? whip it out, sugu."
"ha. shut the fuck up."
this is a repost from my old account. still me tho i did not #steal this this is a repost from my old account. still me tho i did not #steal this
Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader Warnings : MDNI ! 18+ heavy touching (f! receiving), dry humping, heavy making out, Steve and reader getting caught
Hawkins in the summer was a sticky, humid mess, but nowhere was hotter than the interior of Steve Harrington’s BMW when the windows were rolled up.
It had been going on for three months. Three months of stolen glances across the room at Family Video. Three months of hands brushing against each other a little too lingeringly when passing popcorn bowls to the kids. Three months of sneaking out of your window, or him sneaking into yours, figuring out exactly which floorboards in the Henderson house creaked and which were silent.
To the world, you were just Dustin’s older sister. The cool one. The one who actually understood D&D references even if you didn’t play, and who drove the kids to the arcade when Steve was "off the clock."
To Steve, you were... well, you weren't entirely sure what you were yet. But judging by the way his hand was currently sliding up the inside of your thigh while he kept his eyes on the road, you were definitely more than just "Dustin’s sister."
"Eyes on the road, Harrington," you murmured, though you didn't push his hand away. You leaned your head back against the headrest, watching the trees blur by.
"I am an excellent driver," Steve scoffed, his fingers tightening just slightly against your denim shorts. "I could drive this road blindfolded. Also, stop distracting me."
"Me? I'm just sitting here."
"Yeah," Steve breathed, glancing over at you, his eyes dark and dilated. "Exactly."
The kids were occupied. It was the golden hour of opportunity. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will were entrenched in a ten-hour campaign in Mike’s basement. Max and El were at the mall. For the first time in weeks, the Harrington house was empty, the parents were out of town (as usual), and the babysitting duties were suspended.
Steve turned the car into his long driveway, the gravel crunching beneath the tires. The engine hadn't even fully cut out before he was unbuckling his seatbelt.
"Coast is clear?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.
"Clear," Steve confirmed. "Nobody is coming by. I told the little gremlins I had a date."
You raised an eyebrow as you stepped out of the car, the humid air hitting you instantly. "A date? With who?"
Steve walked around the hood of the car, meeting you in the middle. He grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him. He smelled like hairspray, expensive cologne, and the faint, sweet scent of cherry slushie.
"With a very hot, very secret mystery girl," he grinned, that signature Harrington charm in full force. "She’s kind of a pain in the ass, though."
"Is she?" You looped your arms around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Maybe you should dump her."
"Can't," Steve whispered, his voice dropping an octave, becoming rougher. He leaned down, his nose brushing against yours. "I’m pretty obsessed with her."
He kissed you then, not a soft, sweet greeting, but a hungry, desperate collision of mouths that told the story of two people who had been pretending not to look at each other for six hours straight.
The door to the Harrington house slammed shut, locking out the humidity and the rest of the world. The air conditioning was humming, a blessed relief, but it did little to cool the heat rising between you two.
You barely made it past the foyer.
Steve had you pressed up against the wall before you could even kick your shoes off. His hands were everywhere, tangled in your hair, gripping your waist, sliding down to cup your ass to lift you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively, a routine perfected in the dark corners of the Hawkins Lovers' Lane and his bedroom.
"Bedroom," you gasped, breaking the kiss for air. "Steve... bedroom."
"Too far," he groaned against your neck, finding that sensitive spot right below your ear that made your toes curl. He bit down lightly, soothing the spot with a swipe of his tongue. "Couch. Now."
He carried you into the sunken living room, the one with the pristine carpets that his mother obsessed over. He deposited you onto the plush sofa, following you down immediately, his weight heavy and grounding.
This was the part of Steve no one else really saw. Everyone knew Steve the babysitter, the guy who wielded a nail-bat and fought Demodogs. Everyone knew King Steve, the high school legend. But this Steve? The one who looked at you with half-lidded eyes, lips swollen, hair a mess because your fingers had been running through it? This Steve was yours.
He hovered over you, bracing his weight on his forearms. "You look so good," he murmured, one hand coming up to trace the line of your jaw. "God, you have no idea how hard it was to watch Eddie try to flirt with you earlier."
You laughed breathlessly, arching up to meet him. "Eddie wasn't flirting. He was asking for a ride to the stash house."
"He was looking at your legs," Steve argued, his voice dipping into a possessive growl. "I wanted to strangle him with his own bandana."
"Jealousy is a bad look, Harrington."
"Not on me."
He kissed you again to shut you up, and the playful banter evaporated, replaced by a heavy, electric silence filled only by the sound of friction and harsh breathing. His hands were impatient now, sliding under the hem of your tank top. His palms were warm, slightly rough from work, sending shivers racing up your spine as he mapped out your ribs.
You arched your back, helping him pull the shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere onto the floor. Steve wasted no time, his mouth descending to the skin of your collarbone, moving lower. You tangled your hands in his hair, guiding him, a soft moan escaping your throat as his stubble grazed your sensitive skin.
"Steve," you breathed, his name feeling like a prayer on your lips.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with intent. He sat back on his heels, shucking off his polo shirt in one fluid motion. His chest was heaving slightly, a sheen of sweat already forming.
"You okay?" he asked, checking in. He always checked in. For all his bravado, he was incredibly careful with you.
"Better than okay," you promised, reaching out to pull him back down.
He settled between your legs, the friction of denim on denim maddeningly good. You could feel the hardness of him pressing against you, a promise of what was coming. His hands fumbled with the button of your shorts, his movements slightly frantic.
"Damn buttons," he muttered, frustration leaking into his voice.
"Patience," you teased, brushing your thumb over his lower lip.
"I have zero patience left," he admitted. He finally popped the button, the zipper following with a harsh rasping sound. He slid his hands inside the waistband, his fingers warm against your hips, pushing the denim down.
The air in the room felt charged, thick with static. You kicked your shorts off, leaving you in just your underwear. Steve groaned, a low, guttural sound that vibrated in his chest. He leaned down, capturing your lips again, but this time it was slower, deeper. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting you, owning you.
His hand slid beneath the elastic of your underwear, finding the heat of you. You gasped into his mouth, your hips bucking involuntarily against his hand.
"So wet," he whispered against your lips, his voice wrecked. "For me?"
"Only you," you managed to choke out.
He began to move his hand, a rhythmic, teasing pressure that made your vision blur. You threw your head back into the sofa cushions, your hands gripping his shoulders, his back, needing to anchor yourself. He knew exactly what you liked, exactly how to touch you to make you unravel.
"Steve, please," you whimpered, the tension coiling tight in your belly.
"I got you," he soothed, kissing down your throat to your chest. "I’ve got you, baby."
He shifted, his hand leaving you only to fumble with his own belt. The sound of the buckle jingling was the loudest thing in the room. He was ready to take this further, to finally bridge the gap you’d been building toward all day.
He positioned himself, his face hovering inches from yours, eyes searching yours for that final confirmation. You nodded, breathless, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist.
"I love you," he whispered, almost too quiet to hear.
"I love you t—"
CRASH.
The front door didn't just open, it flew open with the force of a battering ram, hitting the wall with a deafening thwack.
"STEVE! CODE RED! IT’S A CODE RED! WE NEED THE—"
The voice was unmistakable. It was the voice that had narrated your entire childhood. It was a voice that was currently cracking due to puberty.
Dustin.
Time seemed to freeze.
Steve froze. He was hovering over you, shirtless, his belt undone, his pants unbuttoned, your legs wrapped around his waist, your shirt on the floor, and your bra on full display.
You froze. You were pinned beneath the former King of Hawkins High, looking thoroughly ravished, with your little brother standing in the foyer, clutching a walkie-talkie and looking like he’d just seen a ghost.
Dustin stopped mid-sentence. He stood in the sunken living room entrance, his curly hair wild, his hat askew. He looked at Steve. He looked at you. He looked at Steve’s hand, which was... well, placed rather compromisingly. He looked at your discarded shirt.
The silence that stretched between the three of you was heavier than the Upside Down.
Dustin’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. His face went through a complex journey of emotions: Confusion. Recognition. Horror. absolute, unadulterated repulsion.
"OH MY GOD!" Dustin screamed. It was a scream that could shatter glass.
Steve scrambled backward so fast he nearly fell off the couch. He tripped over his own unbuckled belt, flailing wildly as he tried to cover himself with a throw pillow.
"Dustin!" Steve yelled, his voice cracking higher than it had since 1983. "Dude! Knock! You have to knock!"
"MY EYES!" Dustin yelled, turning around and covering his face with his hands, but then immediately spinning back around to point an accusing finger. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? THAT IS MY SISTER! THAT IS MY BLOOD RELATIVE, STEVE!"
You grabbed the nearest blanket, an afghan Steve’s grandmother had knitted, and pulled it up to your chin, your face burning so hot you thought you might actually combust. "Dustin, get out!"
"GET OUT?" Dustin screeched. "I WALK IN ON... ON... THIS AND YOU TELL ME TO GET OUT? STEVE IS NAKED!"
"I am not naked!" Steve shouted, holding the pillow over his crotch like a shield. "I have pants on! Mostly!"
"YOU WERE EATING HER FACE!" Dustin looked like he was going to be sick. "I thought you were my friend! I thought you were my brother! You betrayed me! You’re sleeping with the enemy!"
"I am not the enemy!" you yelled from the couch.
"You are now!" Dustin retorted. "This is a violation of the bro code! Subsection C, Paragraph 4: No sisters! Especially not my sister!"
Steve stood up, trying to regain some semblance of dignity despite his disheveled hair and unbuttoned pants. He held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Henderson, listen to me—"
"No! Don't you 'Henderson' me!" Dustin paced frantically in a circle. "How long? How long has this been happening? Is this why you were 'busy' last Friday? Is this why you smelled like her perfume at the arcade?"
Steve and you exchanged a guilty glance.
"Oh my god," Dustin whispered, the realization dawning on him. "It’s been months. You guys have been... you’ve been..." He made a vague, disgusted hand gesture toward the couch. "On my spot! That is my D&D spot!"
"It’s my couch, Henderson!" Steve snapped.
"I sit there!"
"Okay, okay, calm down," you said, trying to inject some authority into your voice despite the situation. You stood up, wrapping the blanket around you like a toga. "Dustin, take a breath. You’re hyperventilating."
"I am traumatized!" Dustin yelled. "I need bleach! I need to scrub my corneas!"
"Dustin," Steve said, stepping forward. He looked serious now. The panic was fading, replaced by that protective instinct he always had for the kid. "Look, man. I know it’s weird. I know. But... I really like her."
Dustin stopped pacing. He peered through his fingers at Steve. "You what?"
"I like her," Steve said firmly, glancing back at you with a soft, apologetic look before turning back to Dustin. "Like, a lot. I’m not just... messing around. I care about her."
You felt your heart squeeze. Amidst the chaos and the shouting, Steve Harrington was standing there, half-dressed, declaring his feelings to your little brother.
Dustin lowered his hands. He looked at Steve, searching for the lie. He looked at you, seeing the blush on your cheeks and the way you were looking at Steve.
The silence returned, but it was less explosive this time. Just awkward.
"You... you like her?" Dustin asked, his voice skeptical. "Like, girlfriend like?"
"Yeah," Steve said, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, girlfriend like."
Dustin grimaced. He looked at the ceiling. He looked at the floor. He let out a long, suffering sigh.
"Jesus," Dustin muttered. "If you guys get married, that makes you my brother-in-law."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," you said quickly.
Dustin pointed a finger at Steve. "If you hurt her, Harrington, I will end you. I know where you sleep. I know your fears. I have Suzie, and she can hack into your bank account."
Steve chuckled, a nervous, relieved sound. "I believe you, Henderson. I’m not gonna hurt her."
Dustin looked between the two of you one last time, shook his head, and turned toward the door. "I’m leaving. I’m going to Mike’s. I’m going to try to forget I ever saw Steve’s nipples."
He grabbed the doorknob, then paused.
"By the way," Dustin said without turning around. "The code red? Lucas got his braces stuck on a Coke can. But I guess you guys are... busy."
He opened the door and marched out, slamming it behind him.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The echo of the slamming door faded, leaving only the hum of the air conditioner.
Steve let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging. He dropped the pillow onto the floor and looked at you. "Well. That went... poorly."
You couldn't help it. A giggle bubbled up in your chest. Steve walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your blanket-covered form. "He threatened to have Suzie hack my bank account. The kid is terrifying."
"He’s protective," you smiled, leaning your forehead against Steve's bare chest. "And he loves you."
"He hates me right now."
"He’ll get over it. Especially since you told him you... you know."
Steve went quiet. He pulled you closer, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head. "I meant it, you know. What I said."
You looked up at him. The playfulness was gone, replaced by that intense, warm gaze that made your knees weak. "I know. I love you too, Steve."
He kissed you then, sweet, slow, and full of promise. It wasn't the frantic, heated desperation of earlier. It was something solid. Something real.
"So," Steve murmured against your lips. "Dustin is gone. Lucas has a can stuck to his teeth. And we have the house to ourselves again."
You smirked, letting the blanket slip just a little. "Are you suggesting we continue where we left off? On Dustin's 'D&D spot'?"
Steve grinned, lifting you up into his arms effortlessly, making you squeak.
"Absolutely not," he said, carrying you toward the stairs. "We’re going to my room. I am not having Henderson walk in on me again. I don't think my heart can take it."
"Good plan," you agreed, burying your face in his neck as he carried you up the stairs.
The secret was out. The chaos had descended. But as Steve kicked his bedroom door shut and laid you down on his bed, you decided that dealing with Dustin’s drama was a small price to pay for this.
hi!! can u pls do a steve harrington x virgin bimbo reader? 🎀
Steve Harrington x virgin!bimbo!reader Warnings : MNDI ! 18+, virginity loss, p in v, fingering, praise kink (?)
The vanity mirror in your bedroom was bordered by round, glowing bulbs, casting a bright, unforgiving light on your workspace. To anyone else, the array of products scattered across the glass surface, tubes of frosted pink lipstick, pots of glitter gel, three different cans of hairsprays, and an arsenal of brushes, might have looked like chaos. To you, it was an armory.
You were Hawkins High’s resident "doll." You were the girl who wore heels on tuesdays just because, the girl whose notes were color-coded in pastel gel pens, the girl who unironically loved horoscope columns and smelled permanently of vanilla cupcake batter and expensive perfume.
People made assumptions. They saw the bleached highlights, the short skirts, and the wide-eyed, gum-popping smile, and they assumed there wasn’t much going on upstairs. You didn't mind. Let them think you were just air and sugar. It was easier that way. Being a "bimbo", as the burnout kids sometimes muttered when you walked by, was a shield. It was a soft, pink, impenetrable armor against a town that was often grey and scary.
But there was one person who looked at you and didn't just see the aesthetic. He saw the person who curated it.
A horn honked outside. Three short bursts. Steve.
You grabbed your purse and took one last look in the mirror. You were wearing a baby pink fuzzy sweater that stopped just above your navel, and a white mini-skirt that left very little to the imagination. Your lips were glossed to a high-shine mirror finish.
Perfect.
You bounded down the stairs, shouted a quick goodbye to your parents who were watching TV in the den, and stepped out into the humid Indiana evening.
Steve Harrington was leaning against the hood of his car. He was wearing his signature grey member’s only jacket over a yellow polo, his hair coiffed to impossible heights. He looked tired, he always looked tired these days, shadows lingering under his hazel eyes, but when he saw you, the exhaustion evaporated.
His jaw actually dropped. It was a reaction you worked hard for, and it never got old.
“Hi Stevie,” you chirped, walking down the driveway, your white heels clicking on the pavement.
Steve pushed off the car, meeting you halfway. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. He smelled like Brut cologne, hairspray, and faintly of cigarette smoke. It was the best smell in the world.
“You look…” He shook his head, a lopsided grin taking over his face. “I mean, look at you. You look like a movie star. A really hot movie star.”
You giggled, smoothing the collar of his jacket. “And you look like a very handsome babysitter. Rough day with the nuggets?”
Steve groaned, rolling his eyes toward the sky. “Henderson tried to build a radio tower in my backyard. Again. I spent three hours hauling scrap metal. I need a break. I need you.”
“Well, you’ve got me,” you said, going up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, careful not to get gloss on him. “All night. No kids allowed.”
Steve opened the passenger door for you. “Best news I’ve heard all week.”
Dinner was in a small fancy restaurant. You sat in a booth in the back, picking at a plate of pasta while Steve devoured a burger.
The conversation was easy. This was why it worked. You talked about the new fall collection at the mall. You talked about which shade of nail polish suited your skin tone best (Cotton Candy or Ballet Slipper?). You talked about the drama between two cheerleaders Steve barely knew.
And Steve? He listened. He listened with a rapt attention that melted your heart. He watched you talk, his eyes tracking the way your hands moved, the way you twirled your straw. He treated your interests with the same seriousness he treated his monster-hunting. To him, your world of glitter and gossip was a sanctuary. It was normal. It was safe.
But tonight, there was an undercurrent of something else.
Steve’s hand kept finding yours across the table. His thumb rubbed over your knuckles, tracing the rings on your fingers. His gaze was heavier, darker. It wasn't just adoration; it was hunger.
“You okay?” you asked, tilting your head. “You’re staring.”
Steve blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Sorry. I just… I can’t believe you’re mine, sometimes. You’re just so… much. In the best way.”
You flushed, a genuine heat rising to your cheeks that had nothing to do with blush. “You’re sweet.”
“I’m not sweet,” Steve said, his voice dropping, becoming rougher. “I’m a guy sitting across from the most beautiful girl in Hawkins, trying to figure out how fast we can finish dinner so I can take you home.”
Your breath hitched. The air between you suddenly felt thick.
“I’m finished,” you whispered, pushing your plate away.
Steve signaled for the check immediately.
The drive to the Harrington house was filled with the sounds of Madonna and the rushing wind. Steve’s hand rested on your thigh the entire time, his grip firm, possessive. The heat from his palm seeped through your stockings, making your heart race.
You knew where this was going. You had been dating for three months. Three months of heavy make-out sessions in his car, of hands roaming over clothes, of breathless stops at the front door before your curfew.
But you had never gone all the way.
It was the one secret you kept hidden under the layers of lip gloss and bravado. Everyone assumed things about you. They saw the tight skirts and the way you clung to Steve and assumed you were experienced. They assumed you were "easy."
The truth was, you were terrified. You were a virgin. A total, complete, technical virgin. And tonight felt like the night that was going to change.
When you pulled up to his massive, empty house, the lights were off. His parents were gone. Again.
Steve unlocked the front door and you stepped into the cool, silent foyer. He didn't even turn on the lights. He just kicked the door shut, dropped his keys in the bowl, and pulled you toward him.
The kiss was searing. It wasn't the sweet peck from the driveway. It was deep, wet, and urgent. Steve groaned into your mouth, his hands tangling in your hair, messing up the perfect volume you had spent twenty minutes on. You didn't care.
He walked you backward until you hit the wall. He pressed his body flush against yours, his thigh slotting between your legs. You could feel how much he wanted you, the hardness of him pressing against your stomach. It sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core.
“Let’s go upstairs.” he murmured against your neck, biting gently at the sensitive cord of muscle there.
You nodded, unable to speak.
He took your hand and led you up the stairs, his grip tight, as if he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.
His bedroom was messy, piles of clothes, a half-read book, old mixtapes scattered on the dresser. It smelled like him. It was your favorite place in the world.
Steve sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you to stand between his knees. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and blown wide. He reached out, his hands resting on your waist, his thumbs stroking the soft fabric of your sweater.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “You know that?”
He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your stomach through the sweater. Then, he looked up, a silent question in his eyes.
You took a deep breath. You reached down and grabbed the hem of your sweater. You pulled it over your head, tossing it onto the floor.
Underneath, you were wearing a sheer, baby pink lace bralette. It was flimsy, expensive, and made you look like a pin-up girl.
Steve let out a sharp hiss of breath. “Jesus… Y/N…”
He reached for the zipper of your skirt.
“Steve,” you said. Your voice came out small, shaky. A stark contrast to the confident girl who had walked into the restaurant.
Steve stopped immediately. His hands froze on your hips. He looked up, his expression instantly shifting from lust to concern. “What? What is it? Did I do something?”
“No,” you said quickly, placing your hands over his. “No, you’re perfect. It’s just…”
You looked down at him. The King of Hawkins. The guy who had dated Nancy Wheeler. The guy who presumably knew exactly what he was doing. And then there was you, all style, no substance, at least in this department.
“I have to tell you something,” you whispered. “And it’s… it’s kind of embarrassing. Because I know what I look like. I know what people say.”
Steve frowned, his brow furrowing. He stood up, towering over you, but he kept his distance, giving you space. “Hey. Who cares what people say? Talk to me.”
“I’ve never done this before,” you blurted out.
The silence in the room was deafening for a split second.
Steve blinked. “Done what?”
“This,” you gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Sex. Everything. I’m… I’m a virgin, Steve.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for him to laugh. Waiting for him to be disappointed that the "hot bimbo girlfriend" didn't come with the skills he probably expected.
Instead, you felt warm hands cup your face.
You opened your eyes. Steve was looking at you with an expression you couldn't quite place. It was tender. It was surprised, yes, but mostly… he looked awestruck.
“You’re a virgin?” he repeated softly.
You nodded, biting your lip. “I know. It’s stupid. I look like this, and I—”
“It’s not stupid,” Steve interrupted firmly. He ran his thumbs over your cheekbones. “It’s… wow. Okay. So, I’m the first?”
“You’re the first,” you confirmed. “If you… still want to.”
Steve let out a breathless laugh, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. “If I still want to? Baby, are you crazy? Of course I want to. I want you more than anything.”
He pulled back to look at you, his hazel eyes serious now. “But this changes things. We have to… I want to make sure you’re okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We can stop. We can just make out.”
“I want to,” you said, reaching up to thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I really, really want to, Steve. I trust you.”
That broke him. You saw the moment his resolve crumbled into pure, molten affection.
“Okay,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you gently, so much softer than before. “Okay. Then I’m going to take care of you. I promise. I’m going to be so good to you.”
The shift in dynamic was palpable. Before, it had been a race. Now, it was a slow, deliberate worship.
Steve undressed you like you were made of spun glass. He unzipped your skirt and helped you step out of it. He unclasped your bra, his fingers brushing against your skin with a reverence that made you shiver. When you were finally standing before him in nothing but your lacy pink panties and stockings, he just looked.
“You are perfect,” he murmured, his gaze traveling over every curve. “Like a doll. My perfect doll.”
He stripped off his own clothes quickly, the jacket, the polo, the jeans, revealing a body that was lean and scarred from battles you only half-knew about. He looked strong. He looked capable.
He picked you up, lifting you effortlessly, and laid you back against the pillows. The sheets were cool against your skin. Steve hovered over you, bracing his weight on his elbows so he wouldn't crush you.
“Tell me if anything feels bad,” he said, brushing hair out of your eyes. “Tell me if you want me to stop. I mean it, Y/N. Even if I’m… in the middle of it. You say stop, I stop.”
“I know,” you whispered. “Kiss me, Stevie.”
He kissed you. He kissed your mouth, slow and deep. He kissed your jaw. He kissed your neck, sucking a bruise there that you’d have to cover with makeup tomorrow. He moved down your body, kissing your collarbone, the slope of your breast, your stomach.
“You’re so soft,” he groaned against your skin. “You smell like frosting. I could eat you up.”
His hand slid down your stomach, slipping beneath the lace of your panties. You gasped, your hips bucking instinctively.
“Easy,” he soothed, his voice low and rumbling. “I’ve got you.”
He used his fingers first, prepping you, stretching you. He watched your face the entire time, gauging your reactions. Every time you moaned, a smirk played on his lips, a mix of male pride and genuine happiness that he was making you feel good.
“You like that?” he whispered, his thumb circling you.
“Yes,” you breathed, your hands gripping the sheets. “Steve, please.”
“You’re so wet,” he praised, leaning up to kiss you again. “You’re so ready for me. God, you’re so pretty when you’re like this. All flushed and messy.”
He removed your panties slowly, sliding them down your legs. Then, he reached over to the nightstand for a condom. He fumbled a bit, his hands were shaking, which somehow made you feel better. He was nervous too. The King of Hawkins was nervous because of you.
When he was protected, he settled between your legs. He nudged your knees apart wider, stepping into the cradle of your hips.
“Okay,” he breathed, his face hovering inches from yours. “I’m gonna come in now. It might hurt a little at first. Just breathe for me.”
You nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist. You felt the heavy, blunt pressure of him against your entrance.
Steve pushed forward slowly. He was agonizingly gentle. He entered you inch by inch, giving your body time to adjust to the intrusion. It burned, a sharp, stretching sensation that made you wince and dig your nails into his shoulders.
Steve stopped immediately. He held perfectly still, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding back. He kissed the sweat from your forehead.
“You okay?” he gritted out.
“Yeah,” you panted. “Just… give me a second.”
“Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
You took a few deep breaths, focusing on the weight of him, the heat of his chest against yours. The pain began to fade, replaced by a feeling of fullness. You looked into his eyes. They were wide, vulnerable, and full of love.
“Okay,” you whispered. “Keep going.”
Steve pushed deeper, sliding past the barrier until he was fully sheathed inside you. He let out a long, broken groan, dropping his forehead to your shoulder.
“Oh my god,” he mumbled. “You feel… you feel incredible.”
He stayed still for a moment, letting you get used to him. Then, slowly, he began to move.
It wasn't fast. It wasn't rough. It was a slow, rolling rhythm. He pulled almost all the way out and then glided back in, hitting deep.
“Steve,” you whimpered. The sensation was overwhelming. It was too much and not enough all at once.
“I know,” he whispered, peppering kisses over your face. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”
He began to pick up the pace, just slightly. His hands gripped your hips, anchoring you to the mattress. You found yourself moving with him, your instincts taking over. You arched your back, meeting his thrusts.
“That’s it,” he praised, his voice rough. “Just like that. You’re doing so good. You’re taking it so good.”
Hearing him praise you flipped a switch in your brain. You wanted to be good for him. You wanted to be the best he’d ever had.
“Does it feel good?” you asked breathlessly.
“It feels like heaven,” Steve groaned. “You have no idea. Being the first one inside you… knowing no one else has touched you like this… it’s driving me crazy.”
He thrust harder, hitting a spot inside you that made your vision blur. Pleasure coiled in your stomach, hot and tight.
“Steve!” you cried out.
“I’m here. Let go, baby. Come for me.”
He reached down between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. That was the tipping point. The friction, the fullness, the smell of him, it all crashed together.
You fell apart. You cried out his name, your body clamping down around him as waves of pleasure washed over you.
Feeling you climax was too much for Steve. He groaned, a guttural sound deep in his chest. He drove into you hard, once, twice, three times, before burying himself deep and freezing there. His body shuddered against yours, his arms crushing you to him as he poured himself into you.
The room was quiet, save for the sound of harsh breathing and the whir of the ceiling fan.
Steve collapsed on top of you, his weight heavy and comforting. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breathing slowly returning to normal. You ran your hands up and down his sweaty back, tracing the line of his spine.
After a few minutes, he lifted his head. His hair was a disaster, a messy halo around his head. He looked exhausted and incredibly happy.
“You okay?” he asked, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of regret or pain. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” you said softly. “It was… perfect. You were perfect.”
Steve let out a sigh of relief and rolled off you, pulling you into his side. He pulled the duvet up over both of you, cocooning you together.
He looked at you, taking in the smeared lip gloss, the messy hair, the flushed skin. The "bimbo" aesthetic was ruined, dismantled by his hands. And yet, he looked at you like you were even more beautiful now than you were when you walked out of the house.
“You’re a mess,” he teased gently, tracing your lower lip with his thumb.
You laughed, snuggling closer to his chest. “You did this.”
“Guilty,” he grinned. He kissed the top of your head. “Hey, Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you,” he said, his voice serious again. “For trusting me. For giving me… that. It means a lot. More than you know.”
You rested your hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat steady and strong beneath your palm. You knew people saw you as the airhead and him as the washed-up King. But in this bed, in the dark, you were just two people who had found a safe place to land.
“I love you, Steve,” you whispered.
Steve tightened his arm around you. “I love you too, doll. So much.”
He reached over and clicked off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
“Now,” he mumbled sleepily into your hair. “If you think you’re getting out of this bed anytime before noon tomorrow, you’re crazy.”
You smiled, closing your eyes, surrounded by the smell of Brut and the warmth of the only man who mattered. “Totally fine by me.”
I can’t stop thinking about Simon Riley
Simon Riley who has these big hands, hardened by war and calloused from murder.
Simon Riley with a permanent ache in his shoulder from the kickback of a rifle.
Simon Riley who’s lower back aches every time he crouches into position.
Simon Riley with knees that click everyone he crouches.
Simon Riley chafed inner thighs from the rough material of tac pants.
Simon Riley with shoulders tensed up to his ears.
Simon Riley who really, really, really needs a massage.
It’s Gaz who gives him your card, clicks his tongue and tells him “Trust me, bird’s got magic hands.”
Simon Riley who stares at it for two weeks, insisting it’s something for girls, nothing that a man like him would ever need.
Then his back goes out.
Two days of fucking agony, stuck on the shitty base couch because he can barely stand long enough to get back to his quarters.
Two days of wishing he’d just been fucking shot, at least then the med bay would give him the good drugs.
He crawls onto your table with a grunt and the words “Firm pressure.”
Then you touch him.
Like silk, your hands smooth over his muscles, needing every tight spot you can find until the knots come loose under your fingers. 
You take him apart with pressure so firm it’s almost painful, your elbow digging into his tailbone as you work over a particularly stubborn spot.
Simon Riley who’s so fucking vocal the whole time.
He groans, moans, even whimpers into the headrest. Simon who jumps against the table when you start to work on his upper traps.
Simon Riley who cums in his fucking boxers when you make his neck crack.
Like an out of body, third person experience he blows his load just as the tension releases.
It’s unmistakable, his chokes noise and the way his entire body goes rigid.
Never mind how he reaches out and grabs your thigh with a grip tight as steel when it happens.
Simon Riley who leaves two hundred dollars in cash and his phone number on the table when he leaves. Along with a little note in his chicken scratch-
“Do you do house calls?”
pornstar!clark kent (solo) | genre: smut | wc: 1.4k | view profile
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), reader-based content (you sent the gift), masturbation, use of sex toys, viewer–performer dynamic, nsfw themes + language.
Clark Kent x virgin!reader
Masterlist | requests open<3
Tags/warnings: smut, Clark taking your virginity,lowkey daddy!Clark, soft!dom!Clark,p in v sex, masturbation (f receiving), creampie, beefy!Clark, size kink, praising,
Summary: Your car broke and Clark, the man he is comes fixing it for you, but things end up getting a little too heated...
wc: 2k, new record probably the best thing I've ever written (and put thought into)
A/N: this is dedicated to my wonderful twin who inspired me to write this @chloeee20 <3 I hope you enjoy🥹 Guys dw I'll finish the two juicy requests sitting in my inbox asap, buckle up ALSO GUYS LISTEN TO RATTLE TRAP BY SOPHIE THATCHER IT MATCHES THE FIC SO WELL!!
You already came pissed off to work, the frustration in your face evident.
Clark immediately rolls towards you with his chair, frowning at the visible anger in your face. "Hey," he says, giving you a worried look. "What happened sweets?" His low velvety voice almost immediately making you forget why you were angry in the first place.
As if gravity pulled you towards him your knee bumps against his. You let out a sharp breath "My car decided to fail me today." You pull a face.
He bumps his other knee against yours before leaning over you, to tenderly stroke your cheek for a split second. "I'll figure it out, don't worry. Are you free later?"
You nod, the tight feeling in your chest already easing.
"Atta girl." He murmurs, his voice in that incredibly soft tone that was reserved for you and only you.
best typo ive ever made i think
reblog if you feep stupid
spose we're all feeping stupid today
Steve Harrington x Hopper!Reader
Warnings: 18+ SMUT, major fluff,
Summer of 1985
It was a warm calm evening in the Hopper house. You’re sitting on the couch with your dad watching Miami Vice reruns.
Usually this is a whole household tradition, however ever since Mike and El started dating you’ve been seeing less and less of the girl. You knew her pushing you and your dad away was because she’s getting older but your father wasn’t too fond of the idea.
“You know you’re not the one with telekinesis. No matter how hard you glare at the door it’s not moving.” You laughed at the man who almost fell backwards in his lazyboy.
He was starting to annoy you as he kept trying to catch the kids doing something that they weren’t supposed to. Little did he know the younger girl was not the one he should be worried about.
“I don’t like this.” He grumbles. “Get used to it, Grandpa.” You laugh rolling your eyes, patting his shoulder before getting up for a snack. He follows you to the kitchen with a sigh.
“Not funny.” He rubs his face in exhaustion. “Keeping the door three inches isn’t asking for much-“
“Dad, she’s thirteen. What’s the worst they could be doing? Giving longing looks.” You interrupt to which he responds with widening eyes.
“If she’s doing that at thirteen, what are you doing at seventeen?!” He says frantically. You burst out laughing, slapping your knee dramatically.
“Me? Absolutely nothi-“ The phone ringing cutting you off. Your father tilts his head throwing his hands on his hips, shooting you a knowing glance.
You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling, rolling your eyes spinning on your heel to pick up the phone.
“Hello,” You said almost as a whisper into the receiver.
“Hey Sweetheart,” His voice is smooth like honey, sending shivers down your spine. “Whatcha up to?” You sigh turning back to your father who’s still giving you a look of ‘are you serious?’
“Nothing much, I was just about to make the world’s buttery-est popcorn.” You joke propping the phone between your shoulder and ear as you get a bowl out. You could practically hear his smile on his face.
“Miami Vice on?” He asks causing you to giggle. “You know it, baby.” Your father gagging at your words, you slap his shoulder.
He laughs and you think it’s the most attractive thing you’ve ever heard. “Well, I get off of work in about…an hour, so if you need company.“
You quickly turn away from your father, covering your mouth and phone with your hand. You whisper, “Steve-“
“Come on, baby. I miss you.” He practically moans through the phone. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. I can’t- Please, darling.”
His pleading voice almost makes you give in, but with your dad’s annoyance with Mike, adding an older boy to the mix was destined for failure.
“I-I…” You couldn’t even come up with an excuse. It’s been a couple days since you’ve seen Steve, so his homecoming is long overdue, and you both knew it.
“Please baby, I promise I can make it worthwhile.” He smirks, “And you know I keep my promises.”
You bite your finger in order to not let the nastiest fantasies of him leave your lips, “Yeah well you better put your lovin where your mouth is.” You heard a shakey breathe come from the boy.
You completely forgot about your dad until he grabs the phone from your hands slamming it to end the call.
“No! None of that! Y’know what-“ Your dad marches to El’s door banging on it just to swing it open. “You two. Out here, now.”
With confused looks, Mike and El make their way into the living room. El turns to you annoyed, “What did you do?”
You throw your hands up, defensively snapping, “Hey don’t look at me, I wasn’t the one smooching on Wheeler.” She glares at you as you make kissing noises.
“That’s enough! Nobody is smooching anyone!” You’re fathers voice booms through the cabin. He points to Mike. “You, out!”
He grabs Mike’s shirt basically throwing him out of house saying, “You girls need to learn boundaries, so until then no boys!”
His declaration makes you and El immediately drop you jaws and groan in frustration. “No boys? Really dad?” He just slams the door behind the teen.
“No boys, No Wheeler, NO Harrington!” He yells pointing between you two. You scoff in his face, “You’re fucking insane!”
You storm into your room slamming your door. It wasn’t even two minutes until you hear El’s door slam too.
You sigh turning on your radio then falling on your bed. You stare at the ceiling, thinking about the desperation that leaked from Steve’s voice. Your dad just didn’t understand what it feels like to be in love, like this. Craving his presence like a drug. He just wouldn’t understand.
After a while, the house silenced signaling the sleep of the family. You unfortunately couldn’t fall asleep, your pulled from your thoughts when you hear a small knock.
You whip your head so fast you thought it would spin right off, to see the man who’s stole your heart in a sailor uniform. “Steve.” You whisper opening the window just for him to immediately place his lips on yours.
You place your hands on his chest, detaching him for one second. “Stevie, what are you doing here?” You step back as he crawls into your room.
“I’m putting my lovin where my mouth is…well where your mouth is.” His lips find yours again, as you immediately shake your head but your protests immediately die as his hand slips around to your lower back.
His lips trail to the side of your neck as you finally whimper out, “You can’t- you can’t be here, he said no boys!”
Steve laughs when he reaches your collarbone. Finally looking up. “Good thing I’m a man, not a boy.” He says triumphantly.
“Oh you’re a man now?” You laugh at his tone as he picks you up by your lower thighs, lifting you to your bed.
“Oh yeah! And I’m gonna show you how much of a man you make me.” He says crawling on top of you. You just giggle making Steve clamp his hand on your mouth.
“Shh baby, we don’t want your dad to hear you havin’ a boy in here.” With a tsk of his tongue his hands slide under your shirt. “You can be quiet for me, right?”
You shake your head no as he lowers his kisses to you stomach up to your chest. Removing your shirt leaving you bare for him to kiss everywhere.
Your back arches to close the gap between you guys. But more so to feel the growing bulge in his pants.
While you grind into him you can feel him leaving dark hickeys all across your tits. You loved when he left marks on you, it gave you the opportunity to show them off around town, not around your father of course.
“God babe, you’re so beautiful.” He whispers kissing lower until he reaches the waistband of your sweats. “Can I taste you babygirl?”
The wet patch in your panties growing just by looking at him kissing your inner thigh. “Stevie, please- you can do anything you want to me.” That just causes him to smile like a dope.
The second he pulls down your pants and underwear, his lips are immediately latched to your clit. His tongue swirling around your sensitive spot.
Your hands grip his hair as your back lifts off the bed once again. Steve grabs your thighs swinging them over his shoulder to angle himself better.
“Fuck- I love your- your mouth.” You could feel him smirking against you as he fits two fingers inside of you. Wasting no time stretching you out. You gasp biting down on your fist to stop your noises.
“God, sweetheart, normally I would never tell you to stop moaning but right now, we really can’t get caught.” He says then dives back into your cunt.
“Then hurry up and fuck me Harrington- cause I won’t be able to stop myself-“ You finally let go of his hair as he looks up at you.
With a moment of shock passing through him, he’s quick to ditch his pants. “So long since you last fucked me, I forgot how big you are.”
“Keep talking like that and there’s no way i’m lasting long.” He smirks rubbing his cock through your folds, teasingly. You gasp when he slaps his cock on you right before shoving it in relentlessly.
“Fuck- You feel so g-good, shit.” You whisper scratching his back knowing you’ll leave marks of your own.
The sound of skin slapping a little too loud gets your attention. You grab at his hips, slowing him down to not wake up the whole house.
He understands and immediately makes his slow thrusts harder and hits your g spot perfectly. “That’s it baby, come for me. Make me a man.”
And with that your legs are shaking and you’re biting into his shoulder to muffle your moans. His big cock spilling out inside of you, making you warm inside.
After a second of him on top of you catching his breath, he pulls out and rolls over next to you. Wrapped in exhaustion and eachothers arms, you fall asleep.
The next morning, you woke up to someone poking your face. You blink your eyes open to see your sister standing face to face, finger ready to poke again.
“Boy.” She whispers turning to poke Steve’s face but you slap her hand away. “Shh he’s sleeping.” shooing her away.
“No Harrington.” She repeats in the same voice your father did. You rub the sleep out of your eyes groaning at the girl. “Thanks for the reminder, I’ll remember that next time.”
She scoffs rolling her eyes, retreating back to her room, “Don’t tell dad.” You whisper-yell to the girl.
“Next time?” You hear a rough voice from next to you. You roll over onto his bare chest. “If you’re lucky.” Your fingers twirl the hair on his chest blinking at him seductively.
“With you next to me, I feel like the luckiest man in the world.” He leans in and kisses you.
“HARRINGTON! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!” You’re fathers voice yells behind the door, causing the two of you to jolt out of bed.
You rush to open the window as Steve is clumsily pulling on his pants. You practically shove him out the window throwing a shoe at him.
Before he runs off, he runs back to your window and grabs your face in his hands kissing you passionately. Just then your father busts through the door with a shotgun, shocked by the scene in front of him.
“Go Steve,” You yell pushing him away. He starts to run then turns around yelling, “They’ll never keep us apart, my Juliet!” You laugh at his dramatics, ducking back in the house.
“Heyyy dad….”
Part two here
Langdon X Fem! Nurse! Reader
Summary: You’re married to Frank, and Robby is your uncle, but people in the ER don’t know this and it ends up causing some problems
Warnings: kissing, workplace romance, false cheating rumors, family relationships, workplace rumors, no use of y/n
Word count: 2.0K
Requested by @thecranberrypineapple
a/n: finally managed to get some writing done! I haven’t had much free time with the holidays, traveling, and everything else, but I promise I’ll get to all the requests in my inbox...eventually 🫠
You’ve known Frank for a long time—long before you ever stepped into the ER. You met in college, both bright and eager to learn. From the moment you first talked to him, you knew you wanted to keep him around, wanted to make him a constant part of your life.
Luckily for you, you managed to get your wish.
Years of friendship slowly shifted into something more romantic, and before you knew it, it had turned into a lasting relationship. And when Frank finally got down on one knee, there was only one answer you wanted to give him.
That answer was yes.
(Sam Winchester x fem!reader)
Summary: Running on adrenaline after a solo hunt, you really, really miss your boyfriend. His voice, his gentle touch, those sweet, dewy puppy eyes… so, you show him just how much you missed him. Oh, and why not solve his case while you’re at it?
CW: sub!Sam as promised! (sort of implied switch!Sam, though), unprotected piv (in a car), praise kink, orgasm denial (m), begging, some overstim, overuse of pet names… (baby, honey)
WC: 7.1K
Boxer!Simon and Empath!Reader
And you’ve been cool and collected every match, watching Simon get punched over and over, train and train and train some more, push himself the best he can, get the perfect body he can. And he wins and wins, he’s amazing, so athletic, so hard working— he deserves every win he gets.
Just until the championship.
And he loses.
It’s a sad defeat, but he manages to keep his head high. Praising his opponent to the interviewers, and that he’ll try again later in the year after a break. Doesn’t shy away from a lazy light hearted laugh, even with all he’s talking to his team who are upset, he’s the one cheering everyone up and reminding everyone that Itll work out soon enough, cameras for the little mini film he agreed to still on.
And then theres you, still the die hard fan you’ve always been, despite being the love of his life now, holding onto the boxing robe for dear life, who suddenly starts hiccuping at the back of the slightly crowded, pen drop silent room.
The men around you make way for Simon to see you and his eyes soften when he sees your eyebrows all knit together, full lips pursed. And you see the pain in his mahogany eyes, he speaks so softly to you, like he’s read your mind across the room, “Swee’art.”
And it’s enough, don’t even know if he’s giving you the go ahead— you’re fucking bawling. Tears streaming down your face, trembling, sobbing and chocking up on your own cries like a baby.
“Fucks sake, y-you’ve worked so- hck- so hard! And been through so- so m-much these past months that no one else sees. Y-you’ve improved too, so amazing. Ugh! Really so fantastic! I don’t care what the reff fucked off and said, you won to me!”
Truly, you’re crying for you and the emotionally constipated man you’re dating and Simon knows it. Knows you’re feeling everything he can’t actually get out. And he’s more than thankful for you being in his life. More than thankful you can cry and express yourself even at tough times like these. The muscular man can only hum as he comes up to you, so in love with you, cupping you face in his hands and wiping your tears with the pads of his thumbs, “If you’ve said ‘ve gone ‘nd won then tha’s tha, yeah? Won this time, I’ll be sure t’ win for them next time dovie.”
It’s so gushy, mushy and adorable— the team can’t help but post it as a little preview to film they’re working on. And yeah no shit it goes viral, capturing the hearts of fans and non fans because you can see how much you love each other so much.
a/n: someone take the mic away.
previous pairing: simon riley x fem!reader ✶ 4.7k+ words, smut, breeding kink, light predator/prey
price’s dinner party is in full swing when you arrive at clover and kyle’s place with your gift in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. there’s music playing, drinks being poured, and hors d’oeuvres being passed around. you exchange pleasantries with the couple when they meet you at the door.
