#superbly subpar steve smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

superblysubpar · 2 months

Text

I love you anon 💛 thank you for this request and thank you Beyoncé for the song Levii's Jeans. I will never be the same again.

warnings: alcohol consumption, drunk/tipsy but all consensual things in this established relationship, SMUT (dry humping, Steve comes on your stomach, slight fingering) | my blog is 18+

1455 words

“Jesus, Mary, Joe-Joseph!”

It wasn’t a sexy exclamation that’s for sure. But you were burning, warm from head to toe from the tequila in your system and the way his lips were a ghost against your skin, and it just sort of slipped out.

He didn’t seem to mind.

Steve practically giggled against the damp skin of your hip bone, his question huffed against it pulling goosebumps to the surface.

“Like that, huh?”

“Ye-yeah,” you squirmed beneath him, fingers gripping tousled brown hair probably a little too tightly as you begged, “Again? Please?”

He was laid out between your legs, fully clothed, his arms drooped lazily over your thighs, pink cheeks and glossy lips and dazed eyes, happy to oblige.

Those ready to please lips brushed across skin, following the band of denim smoothly, his nose pressed to the exposed curve of your stomach as his fingers remembered they could grip at your thighs and hips.

“Oh,” he hummed, smiling at the way you wiggled when he made it to the other side and let his mouth hover over your skin. “Asked so sweet baby, how could a guy say no?”

The hot and wet glide of his tongue across the bone had your stomach fizzing like you’d just taken another shot, eyelashes fluttering and lungs searching for air.

He pestered kisses into the wet skin, teeth grazing right behind them so your knees started to rise on either side of him and your fingers yanked his hair the way he particularly liked when he was a smidge gone and then you made that pretty breathy whimper he liked even more.

Steve let his mouth hover over you, hot puffs of breath filling the tension filled space between the lips that ached to press to the spot that yearned for more of their kisses.

He smiled when your knees pressed together against him, wiggling beneath him and groaning around a laugh. One that showed you were just pretending to be frustrated that he wasn't giving you what you wanted, but actually turned on by the way his hands pushed your waist down like it was nothing, holding you still.

Steve let his hands roam lower again, fingers tugging and tripping up on the loops before he scratched down denim covered thighs. His nose traced the hem over to the button and tapped it with the tip before he sat up and said,

“Take these off for me, honey.”

Suddenly sober, like he hadn't been giggling, or pink cheeked and grabbing fistfuls of your light wash Levi’s covered ass in public, or pleading with you - lips touched right to your ear and begging for you to let him take you home not even fifteen minutes ago.

It had been a sloppy exit at best, rushed goodbyes and half finished drinks with chewed neon straws and a full beer left at the table of your friends. A pitiful excuse of needing to wake up early tomorrow lost to eye rolls as Steve stuck both of his hands in your back pockets to squeeze as he pushed you towards the door.

So when you looked up at him all sly, narrowed eyes and pursed lips fighting a wide grin, he swallowed loudly.

Your fingers traced over your exposed midriff, shirt tossed off well before he even got you to the bed, leaving you in a black lacy bra that left him wondering if the underwear you had on matched.

Teasing, slow, back and forth movements with your own fingers against the top of your jeans, eyes never leaving his, as you stuck out your lips in a fake pout, batted your eyelashes and asked, “These? Thought you liked my new Levi’s, Steve?”

“I do,” he nodded, fingers curling around your knees and squeezing gently as his tongue darted out and licked over his lips, “I really do. Just like ‘em more if they were on the floor now.”

You sighed, all dramatic and jutted out your lip more as you lied, “I didn’t even really get to show them off though. Only got to dance to one song.”

Elbows pushed you up so you were both sitting up and facing each other, so you could guide one of Steve’s hands from where it still rested on your knee. Till it was running over your thigh, higher and higher till his fingers were bumping the zipper and button, his eyes focused on the shiny gold and nothing else.

He looked like he was in pain, like the thought of you not wearing them anymore was the worst news he’d ever heard despite being the one to tell you to take them off.

“Think I should leave them on, Stevie,” you whispered, his fingers twitching under yours, thumb swiping over the button as a little rumble of what sounded like a whimper fell from his lips.

Steve looked like he wanted to protest, but then you inched closer, your hands leaving his so they could lift off his shirt, causing his hair to turn even more rumpled.

Maybe it was the tequila and cherries, or how confident the way the jeans made you feel, but you pushed gently at your boyfriend’s shoulders until he was falling back on the bed easily. You yanked at his own jeans, dragging them down his legs clumsily and hurriedly as his chest heaved.

You climbed over him, denim thighs straddling black Calvin covered ones. Your hands landed on Steve’s chest, fingers scratching through thick hair as your hips tested a slow grind. A roll that caught the tip of his cock on the seam of the zipper and made his hands fly to your waist and his eyelids flutter closed.

Understanding now why he had been giggling as you wiggled beneath him, why he hovered just over you, not quite giving you what you wanted. The way his fingers gripped your hips, and his tongue licked over his pink and kiss swollen lips, or how the warm eyes taken over by pupils looked up at you through fluttering eyelashes was addicting.

But then he was shaking his head, sharply, like he was trying to snap out of it, and then he easily overpowered you.

He was gentle about it, but forceful, getting you on your back and fingers curling around the belt loops and yanking you down the bed.

Steve barely got them down your thighs, before his hips were pushed against yours and his lips were sucking your top one between them.

He was gasping around the kissing, messy and sloppy but full of adoration, “Fucking love you,” tongue slipping over yours, “So much.”

Your fingers were back in his hair, giggling and rolling your hips against his until the right pressure hit your clit in the perfect spot and you gasped out how much you loved him more.

Steve hummed when you exhaled, your back arching and mouth gasping his name for him to swallow.

It was a dirty, filthy, messy grind against each other. Sharp breaths inhaled and exhaled by the other as noses squished together and his tip hit your clit over and over again, in a steady rhythm that had your stomach burning from more than just the tequila.

His “Fuck, fuck, shit,” a response to your “Yeah, yes, right there, more.”

Hands gripped at each other, frantic, pulling and tugging at skin and hair and bands of underwear, needing more despite being ready to explode.

“Honey, shitshitgonnacum,” Steve grunted into your lips as you nodded.

His fingers were quick, slipping under the damp black lace and rubbing perfect and precise figure eights over your clit like he could do it in his sleep.

You gasped out his name again, louder than you typically let yourself get, fingernails digging into his shoulders and making your own set of marks next to all the moles and freckles that dotted the skin there.

Warmth erupted over you, figuratively and literally, as he released on your stomach and yours raged through your body like a wildfire engulfing an entire forest. It was a quick and powerful orgasm, consuming you, stealing the air from your lungs and turning your vision a little blurry.

It took a minute for your eyes to finally blink open and find his, easy to do though, with his forehead pressed to yours, the sounds of both of your heavy breaths filling the room.

It took another minute for you to start giggling at the state you were both in. His hair mussed, both still in your underwear but Steve only half in his and your jeans around your calves.

“I don’t just like your Levi’s,” he murmured, kissing at your nose as he laughed harder.

“I love them.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfiction #superbly subpar steve smut

438 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 7 months

Text

623 words | my blog is 18+

Soft orange and gold flickered across the walls, candles burned low barely shedding light on tan, sweat slicked skin. Your back arched against the bed as thick and strong fingers caressed up your leg. Thigh squeezed with the roll of his hips. It smells like his cologne and sex, sweat and Steve.

When his head dipped lower, you couldn’t help but extend for him. His breath sharper, leaving swollen lips, soft against your skin as he kissed it. Flushed cheeks and his hair falling over his forehead as he breathed harshly into the crook of your neck. Your fingers curled into the cool sheet, a gasp pulled from you at the feeling of his tongue on your skin. A little filthy, a little dirty. Steve’s thrusts deep, and lazy. Like he’s trying to make it slow and fast and loud and soft all at the same time. When he bites at your shoulder, you whimpered.

Dirty.

The rough squeeze to the dough of your thigh shifts - his fingernails scratched down your skin leaving goosebumps in their trail, your stomach flipping, and his name leaving you in a cry.

Fingers hooked under your knee, lifting, so he could only go deeper. Caressing and doting as he hitched it higher on his hip. Voice sweet and sultry as he tutted into your ear, “Oh baby, does that feel good?”

His cock drags along your walls that want to suck him in and keep him there, slow, teasing, fucking filthy. The sound of your slick coating him lewd as he pushed back in and rolled his hips, a lazy grind of his against yours, drowned out only slightly by your praise.

“Oh! Fu-fuck, right…right there.”

One hand in its bruising grip as his other palm pressed flat to the mattress next to your head. His thrusts picked up their pace, eager to please. Your fingers crawled up his chest, clinging to his shoulders as he began to pound into you.

Crescent moons become deeper in your thigh as he pants out your name. Each powerful thrust tapping the cool metal of his chain against your chin.

“Steve,” his name a plea on your lips.

“I know, you just need to-”

Head meeting wood behind it, his words are cut off by the sound. By the way you moaned when it hit the wall.

Steve experimented for a second, thrusting a few times, quick and harsh, so the sound of the bangs would echo in the room. Your fingers tugged at his chain as you clenched around him, soft whines leaving pouted lips.

He huffed out a laugh. “Oh you like that, huh?”

Your gut twisted at the teasing, at how much you liked both. Chin ducked to your shoulder to avoid his gaze. But the easy roll of his hips as his finger dragged across your cheek and tapped your bottom lip has you choking out his name.

“It’s okay. You can tell me. My girl wants it a little rough, that it?”

Chin and jaw pinched between thumb and thick fingers so you had to look at him. His dick twitching inside of you and stomach burning as you blinked, big, wide eyes up at him and nodded with your lip pulled between your teeth.

Steve grabbed at your hips then, yanking you down harshly in one swift thrust against him so he had you gasping. He did it again, your hands flung behind yourself and braced on the wood as air left your lungs.

His thumbs soft and buzzing light circles into your hip contrasted with the blown out pupils in his eyes, the way his chest rose in heavy pants. His gaze down at you hungry and determined.

“You asked for it honey.”

#yeah idk #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #superbly subpar steve smut

559 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 9 days

Text

thank you so much for requesting @retrosabers soooooooooooooo...idk what this is. but it turned into a makeup sex, kind of angry with steve, to I guess, the beginnings of the "How Sweet It Is AU" for me?? - you could just read this as stand alone smut, but please read the warnings below if you're unfamiliar with that AU and don't want a pretty big surprise at the end!

2,119 words

warnings: mentions of wearing Steve's boxers, SMUT (piv intercourse - creampie, angry/makeup sex & all the language and actions that may go with it - some kingish steve vocabulary if you will)| pregnant reader announcement - see How Sweet It Is AU warnings for more | my blog is 18+

Late Summer, Early Fall, 1986

Your fingers slip from his neck and shoulders, sweat slicked tan skin there making the bright red of the scratches you made brighter. Angrier.

They match the mood - the deep lines between his brows, the pout of your lips, the brutal punch of his thrust inside of you, the clench of your jaw so you don’t do something satisfying like scream his name or fuck, say sorry.

Neither of you can remember what started it now. You said something bratty, he said something even more so. Sharp tones and stressful weeks. Cupboards and drawers with volume and slams worthy of a battle of the bands. Silent tooth brushing while glaring at one another in the mirror sessions, and purposeful, childish things, like making only enough coffee for one cup each morning.

Not that you had even wanted any today.

The sun was brutal, the AC was busted, and Steve had found you lying on the hard kitchen floor, practically naked, and sipping something out of a blue, glass mason jar that was sweating more than you.

He’d swallowed at the sight of your stomach and arms fully on display, the curve of lace over your chest, his boxers rolled over your thighs too high to be decent if you stood. Perhaps Steve could have taken the gesture of you wearing next to nothing as a white flag, but all he could think about was how hot he was, how tight the tie was around his neck, and how he was mad at you for a reason he didn’t even remember.

Steve stepped over to the thermostat and without opening your eyes you called, “No difference.”

“When’s the last time you checked?” He grumbled under his breath, tapping at it with a roll of his eyes. “No difference.”

“Right,” you propped up on your elbows, glaring at him as you snapped, “Like I just said.”

He looked right at you for what felt like the first time in years, when really it had only been a day or two. But the sight of eyes that were honey turned hard, though just as sticky as they lingered on your own, had something in your chest warming.

Steve glanced down at your body again as he yanked at his tie, throwing it on the counter before taking on his naturally annoyed position of hands on his hips. His fingers flexed against them while his head tilted in a way that exposed his throat more, made it easy to follow his swallow or the bead of sweat curving down his jaw. It made you want to curse whatever god created this man, and that was before he opened his mouth with a tone bitchy enough to match his pose.

“Can you put a shirt on?”

The bite of his question made your eyes narrow, made you stick out your peachy, lace covered chest more just to spite him. His gaze returned to yours, challenging, fire burning between you both making his gaze molten - pure lava that was sure to consume you before you even had the thought of running from it.

You stood as he harshly unbuttoned the white button down he was dressed in, revealing dark chest hair and the gold chain nestled there, both threatening to make you fold first, but you couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

His finger’s movements slowed as they worked at the cuffs when you set your glass on the counter. As you took a step closer, then another, you both refused to break eye contact until your chests were almost touching and your chin tipped up at him in your own challenge back.

“Make me.”

The space between your lips buzzed, his cupid’s bow mocking you, the heave of your chest doing the same to him.

Maybe you tilted higher first, maybe he bent lower, but your lips crashed into each other - literally.

Teeth against plush bottom lips and noses bumping, hands gripping at each other like you’re about to push the other off, yet you both only get closer.

Steve pants into your mouth, his fingers dig into the skin just below your ribs as he pushes you in a direction clumsily, till your back is hitting the counter and you can feel how hard he already is as he pulls your hips against his own.

You don’t give him the satisfaction of making any noise when his thumb brushes over a hard nipple through lace, or when his tongue meets yours. He doesn’t give you any either when you pull a little hard at the hair at the back of his head and roll your hips.

Neither of you say a word or let your faces show any sign that this is all exactly what you want, what you need when he pushes at the boxers and lets them fall to the floor as he lifts you onto the counter or when you pull and push at his belt and dress slacks enough to free his length.

Steve slips up a little when you wrap your hand around him, his head thrown back and teeth digging into his lip, fists forming against the counter next to your thighs with each slow tug.

“What’s the matter Steve?” Faux pouting lips form the coy question while your hand pumps faster. You smirk when Steve lets loose a shaky exhale on your next words. “You wanna tell me how good it feels? How turned on you are right now? How sor-“

You inhale sharply when his thumbs spread you and a low rumble leaves his lips, too close to your ear, “Oh babe…me? I think if anyone here is turned on it’s-fuck.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass and pushing him closer so his tip hits your entrance, your hand glides it through your folds dripping around him already, teasing at your clit then back down.

“Speaking of fuck-oh.”

Your brows knit together, lips clamp shut as he slides into you slowly. His chest is heaving, white button down open so you could scrape you nails down the gray tank top revealed to you now, but you don’t. Your eyelashes are fluttering, fingers slipping against the counter and back arching so he could go deeper.

He doesn’t.

Steve keeps his thrusts shallow and slow, only giving you just enough to make you angry. Your cheeks grow hot, spine tingling, tongue pushing against your teeth with every glide in, silently willing, begging, him to go deeper.

Your clit throbs, heels dig into him, but Steve stands firm, watching you closely, waiting till you look up at him.

One damp strand of brown hair falls over his forehead, while eyes soften towards you again. Sweat rolls down his temple, each pulse of his steady heartbeat making his cologne sharper, mint and cedar distracting you, placating you. When you grip at his shoulders, finally touching him again, he exhales as his name leaves you in a whisper.

“Steve,” your fingers grip the collar of his button down, “More.”

As your hands slip, nails curling into his chest, Steve finally gives you more.

Then he stops.

Pressed against you, he inhales slow and steady, watching you. His arms flex around yours as his palms press to the cool counter, ignoring how thrilled he is to feel you fluttering around him fully now.

He grins, finally, when a whine bubbles out of your throat at the lack of movement. He can’t help himself, raising his pitch and mocking your words earlier, “What’s the matter? Wanna tell me how good it feels? Wanna tell me you’re sor-“

“I said more,” you gasp around the words, rolling your hips until his hands fly to them and hold them in place.

Steve looks at you seriously, black lust filled pupils taken over his gaze, and his tongue slides over his bottom lip before he speaks, like he’s debating his words.

“I did give you more. Want something else? Gonna have to be specific babe. Maybe use a word that starts with ‘P’ and ends with leas-“

“Fucking, fuck me, Harrington!” You grip the cotton tank between your fingers, voice hot and body hotter and only getting more so when he throws his head back in a laugh. A laugh which only makes you clench around him more and spurring him on.

“Harrington?! Did you just call me Harrington and then tell me to fuck you?!” He grins wider, his perfect smile on display, like he just can’t help himself.

“Would you prefer King Ste-ohmygod!”

Steve pulls out and thrusts into you hard, his forehead furrowed as his mouth searches for yours. You meet him in a kiss that starts with another gasp as he sets a brutal pace. Your fingers slip around his neck and he lays over you so your back is against the counter. His hands drag you to the edge still, so his hips can meet yours over and over again as his tongue works at the seam of your lips once more.

He slows his kiss down, sucking on your bottom lip and pulling, breath exhaled against your cheek through his nose as your back arches and your nails leave their marks. Steve keeps thrusting, coarse hair hitting your clit that only aches for more when he releases your mouth. Lips kiss bitten and parting in shock when he speaks down to you with a deep and hoarse gravel, chest heaving as his nails scratch down your thigh.

“Am I fucking you good enough, honey?” He pushes at your legs, bending them up and towards your chest so you do cry out as he somehow gets more inside of you, “Feel that? Feel how deep I am?”

He rolls his hips, a thumb pressed to your clit and you break, the lava creeping closer.

Steve groans when you gasp a yes, a more.

He thrusts faster, hands skating over your body, pulling and tugging you closer to him, lips brushing against your jaw then your neck as he speaks.

“Wanna come for me baby? Feels like you do, this pussy’s just crying around me.”

You gasp at the filth coming out of him, hating that it only makes him slip inside of you easier, faster.

Steve lets your legs fall, guiding one around his hip and the other pressed next to your head, his torso rising so his gaze can stay on where your bodies meet with an intensity you haven’t quite seen before. He looks like an older version of a Steve you met a long time ago.

Realizing now, his pants aren’t even down, his shirt only just unbuttoned, chain glistening in damp chest hair. His forearm veins and shoulders flex with determination you used to see on a court, jaw pulsing, and his brow sweating, but no longer furrowed - like he knows he’s won. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, tongue between his lips as his thumb swipes over your clit in a large figure eight and you jolt. His hand reflexively pushes your shoulder down, while he keeps working on the swollen nerves in time with his thrusts.

Each pass, each thrust, is a clock counting down drowning out a crowd for him, knowing if he just keeps going, he’ll make it. For you, it’s lava gaining ground, inches from your demise, the heat licking at your body now enough for you to cry out his name just like an adoring fan.

Steve grunts, brow furrowed again so he can focus on what he’s trying to say.

“Oh, it’s first name basis again, yeah? Did that good of a job? An-another slut satisfied with their fuck from Harrington?”

You cry out a yes, literally, your orgasm breaking over you in multiple releases. You clench around him, thighs tightening on his hips and Steve’s rhythm stutters as you take everything he gives you. The rush of every pent up emotion makes it’s way over your lash lines. Angry tears, sad tears, relieved tears. Maybe delirious as you start laughing, fingers swiping at them and Steve’s head whips up.

He slips out of you with a wince, his fingers catching the tears and his forehead furrowed with worry now, “Baby, babe. Hey, hey, hey, what’s-I’m sorry, that was too far, I thought you-“

“Steve,” you hiccup, fingers catching his, eyes doing the same to worried and back to warm honey irises.

He waits, thumbs soothing over yours only pausing when you speak again. The scratches on his neck and shoulders pink now, less angry - sorry. They match the pink lips that part, the cheeks that stand out behind tear tracks. They still match the mood.

Softer.

Sweeter.

Just like the words leaving your lips.

“I’m pregnant.”

#superbly subpar steve smut #superbly subpar's writing #How Sweet It Is AU #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb

157 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 2 months

Text

oh you sweet lovely angel, happy birthday week @palmtreesx3 - you've had your cake, now it's time for steve to eat too💛

warnings: minor mentions of body image concerns/letting them go, "public" smut (aka, you're outside by the pool, and maybe a neighbor *could* hear or see, but they won't), mentions of alcohol, steve telling you what to do you and both of you liking it, a praise kink sort of, and oral - steve performing | my blog is 18+

1495 words

Maybe it’s something only people in love can do, or perhaps only that sweet bubble of lust and love joining together to create this totally new feeling that allows it.

Maybe it was just something you and Steve could do.

Because, without opening your eyes, you can feel his eyes on you.

And they’re making your body warmer than the rapidly fading sun has all day.

They’re on your ankle now, traveling up the curve of your calf, the bend of your knees and your lips twitch. You know if you turned your head and blinked open your eyes, you’d find him with just his eyes out of the clear water that mirrors the pink and tangerine in the sky above him.

You decide you’ll let him have his moment.

Steve’s currently deciding he hates the color red.

He hates it on your toes, because it’s reminding him of you painting them earlier. A moment where your sunglasses were pushed onto the top of your head and your body was curled over itself, letting curves and rolls and things happen you’d normally try to cover just to reach them, your mouth forming the words of top forty after top forty song.

Happy. Content. Totally in love with the day. With him.

Which is what you told him from where you laid in a floating tube a few hours later as he handed you a can. Sweating droplets over red aluminum as your head fell backwards and your smile was more dazzling than the sun in the middle of the clear blue sky.

He had watched you a little greedily, swallowing when you did, wishing he was the red can you were drinking out of.

You’d laughed, flicked water at him and said he needed the beer more than you. That he needed to cool off, reading him better than the actual book in your hand.

But how could he cool off when you were still wearing that?

Red little bows against your hips.

Red triangle of fabric rudely separating him from you.

Red that traveled up your shoulders and disappeared behind your neck resting on the towel beneath you.

Red that teasingly let the curve of each breast taunt him all fucking day.

Your hands twitched from where they laid flat against the pavement as the sound of water falling off of his body near the stairs alerted you Steve was finally getting out of the pool.

Steve’s watching your eyelids flutter, the way your knees tap together tighter as he slowly approaches you.

The air pulses with each step he gets closer, the cicadas buzz louder and despite the sunset taking away the heat, your body is on fire when Steve finally speaks with a tap to the top of your knees.

“Open these up for me, honey.”

The words are a command, despite how softly they’re spoken.

Your stomach fizzles and warms as you do as you’re told and a cold drop of chlorine scented water drips onto your stomach accompanied by praise.

“That’s my girl,” his hands aid you, palming over the inside of your thighs as they drop open for him, “There you go.”

Steve clicks his tongue when you flinch at the second drop, a soft and teasing remorse in his tone as a large hand roams low again, circling your knee and back up.

“You cold?”

A breath huffs out of your nose when your back arches as his fingers play with the bow at your hip.

Your eyes finally open, a dazzling sunset above the man grinning smugly at you as you shake your head and let out an even shakier, “No.”

Water clings to his tan skin, a particular drop convincing you to never look away from his cupid’s bow ever again. Darker, chestnut hair falls over his forehead as he cocks his head to the side in a silent ‘That so?’ while one singular fingertip travels across the band of your suit.

His lips twitch as goosebumps rise to the surface of your skin.

He brushes over a fresh wave of them, just above the tie of the suit, with his thumb, and leans down, eyes remaining on yours as he blows a warm breath against the pebbled skin.

“Steve,” your hands lift with the plea, only for Steve’s much larger ones to wrap around your wrists.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he shakes his head, the honey turning amber in his eyes as you freeze and blink up at him with a pout on your lips. Until he reminds you, warmly, softly, “Just painted your nails baby. Wouldn’t wanna ruin ‘em, yeah?”

Your chest fucking aches as he gingerly lays them back down and reassures, “How about you just lay there and look pretty?”

It’s hard to breathe from the eye contact, from the way he takes the end of the red bow between his teeth and tugs.

Steve’s nose nudges your hip, it skates across the looser band of the suit, till he’s at the other side.

He doesn’t undo that bow though, he just follows the suit’s seam lower, dropping with the crease where it meets your thigh.

You jolt, torso lifting and hands doing the same as his tongue licks you once and boldly through the red fabric.

Steve lifts too, quicker than you, reading you just as well, hands circling your forearms and giving you a look beneath raised eyebrows.

A silent question of if you’re going to behave lingers in the honey that’s turned amber that’s turned molten. You give a single nod, Steve drops your arms and his adams apple bobs as you slowly and patiently, let your hands drop back down to the towel.

Your clit fucking throbs, pulsing faster than your heart as you blink away spots that compete with the lazy clouds above you.

Steve’s lips press a kiss to your thigh and you squirm beneath him. The kiss lingers and his lips drag up to the wiggling and needy hips moving.

“So,” he grumbles against the red fabric, nosing at the second tie, “Impatient.”

You whimper as the suit falls open, and Steve licks the path of it as he removes it, like he’s following the outline he’s been memorizing all day and determined to not actually ever put his mouth where you want it.

His thumbs spread you open though, and finally, his tongue lazily licks through you once.

Your fingers flex against the towel as your stomach burns, desperate to just grab his hair and pull him closer, but you know if you move one more time, he might never stop teasing you.

Except you’re so wrong, because while Steve does love teasing you, he’s about 2.7 seconds from coming in his swim trunks and it’s all the color red’s fault.

Which is what he sees as he looks up your stomach as his mouth makes contact with you again. Red fabric tightening over pebbling nipples as you arch higher and gasp out his name a little too filthy and a little too loud for a neighborhood, even if there are fences hiding the two of you.

But it only spurs him on more, fingers bruising into your waist as he picks up the pace, tongue traveling up you once, twice, three - fucking keep going Harrington you need her to cum -, his nose tapping at your clit each time and getting rewarded with a, “Ye-yes. Steveohmygod.”

Your eyes blink rapidly, fingers scrunching into the towel and your thighs press against his ears as you gasp through his steady and brutal rhythm. A fluid and practiced drag of his tongue over and over and over again, until his lips are molded around your clit and you swear there’s fireworks going off in the sky right now.

Steve squeezes his own eyes shut, because if he looks at the way your back arches higher or the way your lips look saying his name like that or the way your chest heaves with a new layer of glistening of sweat, he really will come and he can’t, because he’s absolutely not done with you.

He blinks, mouth sucking slower, tongue lingering until he knows you can’t take anymore. He pulls away and smiles as your bright red fingers cup your cheeks as you breathe deeply, in and out, through your nose.

Steve pretends he’s not just as worked up, carefully and slowly tying your suit closed again.

He kisses your stomach as you sit up and before your parting mouth can say anything, he nods towards the house.

“Go lay down on the bed.”

Steve bites his lower lip as the retreating view of your ass bouncing under the high cut of red disappears into the sliding door faster than he’s ever seen a person move.

He waits a solid ten seconds to calm down, grabs the bottle of polish you left behind and makes note of the name.

He’s buying every bottle the store has tomorrow.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smu #superbly subpar steve smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic

210 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 1 year

Note

Steve taking you to pound town and crushing you with his body :-)

the song: Lights Out by Col3trane

warnings: a teeny hint to edging/steve's a tiny bit possessive or jealous

The moan that leaves your mouth is sinful, and he squeezes at your hips harder, hand slapping at your ass, soothing over the red mark and caressing along the curve of it. Your fingers twist in the sheets, a low whine leaves your parted lips in a breath. Sweat beads at your hairline - it clings to your skin and his eyes greedily take in how it drips over all of your curves. Steve’s thrusts slow, a deep stroke that has you shuddering beneath him. His fingers brush down your spine and back up. You push against him, rolling your hips and he taps at your butt again lightly - a warning.

Steve’s in a mood.

If the way he slammed the door of your apartment when he came home, or how he found you in your bedroom with candles lit and a book - closing it for you and drawing the curtains and flicking off the lamp hadn’t tipped you off, the way he’s had his way with you for an hour would have.

You drip for him, walls sucking him in and he has to blow his breath out of his nose at how easily he’s able to glide in and out of you. Your teeth bite hard into your bottom lip to muffle your cries from the open window, concealed only by the closed curtains that blow lazily in the summer breeze.

He’s barely moving in and out of you now, pads of his fingers brushing up and down your arms that shake before he tugs lightly on the gold chain around your neck. His eyes almost roll back when you lift your head and the little ‘S’ glints in the orange flicker of the candlelight.

You’re his.

“Baby-” your voice is thick, breaking off into what sounds like a sob. His palms are flat on your spine, soothing up and down as he picks up his pace again. He pushes lightly on your lower back, humming when you spread your legs wider for him.

His brows are pinched together, his chest heaves as he pulls at your cheeks, watching how you suck him in. Groaning at the feeling of your walls clenching around him as your fingers flex on the mattress and your head drops, chin to your chest with a whimper.

Steve slows his thrusts again right when the coil in your stomach is ready to snap. You gasp out in frustration, toes curling and fingers gripping the duvet. He leans forward and kisses the middle of your spine, hand reaching around your front. His fingers rub messy circles into your puffy clit while his hot breath and wet kisses attack your spine.

One of his hands moves to your thigh, blunt fingernails scratching up and down as his index and middle fingers soothe bigger and faster circles over your needy clit. He pants against your slick skin as his resolve to not cum grows weaker. Every time he gets you close and he stops, a new wave of lust seems to gush around him, making you wetter and needier.

He has to hear it, make sure everyone knows. Steve doesn’t care if his voice sounds desperate when he asks, “Only I can make you feel like this, right honey?”

You can’t think straight anymore, another whine, a frantic nod of your head and your hips roll again, pushing back against him. Steve curses under his breath when his balls hit your ass. He stops his movements abruptly, both hands holding your waist so you can’t move and your eyes squeeze closed. He had given you a warning.

But Steve surprises you, his hands slowly roam from your waist, up your sides as his lips drag along your spine. You shiver beneath him and his hands drift down your arms, the weight of his chest heavy on your back. Steve laces his fingers with yours, pushing you both down into the mattress. Your legs flatten, fully lying on your front, only your ass in the air for him as one arm reaches around to lift you slightly while he mouths at your neck.

“I said,” he presses another kiss behind your ear, nose dragging behind it, “Only I can make you feel like this, right?”

“Ye-yes,” your voice is a gasp, desperate for him to let you finally cum.

He pulls out of you slowly, feeling the curve of him - every ridge against you on the dirty glide out and the sudden thrust back in. Your fingers flex under his larger and thicker ones, a pathetic sound leaves you and floats into the air that the neighbors are sure to hear now. Your cheek presses to the mattress and Steve makes a soft tutting noise, nosing at your jaw as he slams into you again.

Your mouth falls open, but nothing comes out, the sound of him dragging himself in and out of you a pornographic and sinful squelch. Your eyelashes wet with tears from the way he slams the perfect spot deep inside of you that he finds with the new, deeper, position. Steve’s movements are faster now, balls slapping against your ass. He’s practically growling in your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe of it, chest hair scratching at your back. Every sense is overwhelmed, the only thoughts running through your mind revolve around him.

Steve moans your name in your ear and the weight of him against you smothers you like the flames taking over your body. You writhe and wiggle beneath him and he can’t get enough of it. Steve laughs against your sweat slicked neck, thrusts stopping completely as he catches his breath. You push back against him with a growl and he pushes you into the mattress harder.

His breath is hot in your ear again as he speaks, voice raspy, filthy, sexy.

“If you wanna cum, tell everyone who’s making you feel this way baby.”

Steve rolls you to your back before you can even blink, sliding inside of you in a deeper thrust, chest pressing to yours and smiling into your neck that extends for him when you throw it back against the pillow. Your toes curl as your heels dig into his ass, fingers gripping at his shoulders and back as his name leaves your lips in almost a scream.

Steve’s lips press into your hairline, hands wrapped around your lower back as his thrusts keep going at a brutal pace. His praise lost against the skin of your temple, drowned in the chanting of his name.

You look so good, maybe he’ll let you have what you want finally.

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #superbly subpar steve smut

828 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 1 year

Note

Idk if you’ve written it before but… face riding with Steve and shy!reader?

the song: Lights Off by KALLITECHNIS, Misha, and Jussi Halme

Your breathy sigh has him melting, fingers toying with the hem of your sundress as his mouth moves across the skin of your neck. Dragging warm and wet lips down the column of your throat as his hands squeeze at your waist. Calloused pads of his fingers brush the triangles of exposed skin where your dress has cut outs on your back, arching your body for him as you whimper his name.

He loves when he can get you like this, pliant and pretty noises and just a smidge less shy for him.

A little loud.

Steve squeezes at your hips, mouth latching onto the skin above your collarbone as he sucks a bruise that burns a little before he soothes it with his tongue.

His tongue - it comes back to your lips, salt and lime and tracing over your top lip before he's kissing and making his way to under your ear, giving you another mark to match the one he just left.

Your lip tugs between your teeth, eyelids fluttering as your fingers twist in the soft white cotton of Steve's shirt. He's all coconut and citrus from sunblock and beer. Tanned skin that stretches over taunt muscles and lines of his veins as he lays you down on the fluffy white linen that dances in the breeze of the open window.

Steve hovers over you, the golden sun long gone, illuminated just barely by the lazy indigo and soft lilac of dusk that pours into the room. Waves crash against the shore as Steve's nose brushes yours, mouth pressing a sweet kiss to your bottom lip before he asks, "This okay honey?"

Nodding your head, your fingers move, tips tracing over the curve of his top lip, up his jaw and across his cheek to the two freckles that dot it. They hover over his nose, even more freckles appearing from a day of sun and they glide down the bridge of it as his knee slots itself between your thighs. Your mouth goes dry at the thought of his nose replacing where his knee hits just the right spot.

Steve watches your eyes turn glossy as your finger boops the tip of his nose before both hands curl into the hair above his ears. How you squirm when he pushes his knee into you a little harder, how you blow out another quiet whine.

"What do you want, baby?" He kisses along your jaw, fingers brushing up the inside of your thigh and he smiles against your skin when your breath catches in your chest. He waits for the response of 'A kiss' - all you ever seem to have enough courage to ask for, but when he's met with silence, he thinks his heart might be loud enough for you to hear too until you finally whisper.

"Steve...can we...can I..."

He pulls away enough so he can see you in the quickly darkening room, your brows furrowed together and your lips forming a pout barely visible in the navy glow from outside.

He hums, eyebrows quirking up as his hands push into the duvet on either side of your head. Steve peers down at you, lips tugging up on one side, honey and emerald shimmering in his eyes as he nods. He hovers above your lips, "Can tell me, pretty girl," he kisses you soft and chaste, "I bet I wanna do whatever you want, too."

Steve lets his nose brush against yours, lips a ghost as warm breath fans across your cheek and you squirm beneath him, fingers fiddling with the collar of his shirt as you mumble against his lips.

He pulls at one of your nervous hands, fingers lacing with yours as he kisses your palm and sets them against the pillow. Allowing some of his weight to fall against you as he asks, "What was that?"

Your eyes are bigger than a doe's, glossy and blinking and your chest heaves as your gaze dances across his face. Pouty lips parting in a breathy question, "Wanna ride your...nose?"

He's died. He's actually dead.

You start to cover your face, making yourself small and he's quick to pull at your hands, dipping his head so his eyes can catch yours, "Like you want me to eat you out while you..."

"Sit on your face," you finish for him quietly.

Steve's pretty sure he's not breathing. He's hot, he's boiling, he's burning, he's-

You're shaking your head, blinking your eyes furiously as you sniffle. You're groaning, "I'm sorry, it's weird, I just, forget I said that I-"

Steve silences you with a kiss, passionate and deep and when he breaks away he's panting into you, shaking his head no, "Baby, baby, I," he kisses you again and groans into your mouth, "Fuck, no, I was trying to make sure I heard you right. Think I came in my pants when you said that."

"Steve," your whine is scolding, face growing hot under his praise. Your stomach flips at what his words actually mean.

He doesn't seem to have to be told twice. In a frenzy he's removing his shirt, rolling onto his back and taking you with him and reaching over for the lamp when your palms land flat on his chest, your protest loud, "Wait!"

Steve blinks up at you from the dark and your voice is a squeak as you ask, "Can we...can we keep the lights off?"

You feel Steve sigh underneath you, but his wide palms brush up and down your thighs. He's not surprised, you're still so timid to let him hear you, let alone see you.

His thumb's soothe circles into your skin, pushing the black fabric of your dress up as he nods once, "Okay sweet girl, but then you have to tell me how good I'm doing, deal?"

He holds up his pinky, eyebrows raised at you and your eyes roll as you loop your pinky with his.

Steve shimmies hastily beneath you, fingers tugging at the edges of lace he finds on your hips. It's not smooth, both of you laughing a little at his eagerness and the fling of the undergarment before he's yanking you down against him.

Your hands slap against the wood headboard with a gasp as his breath hits your aching nerves. His smile hovers over you, thumbs pulling at your lips that are already dripping for him and he groans.

His tongue licks a long and slow stripe through you, nose gliding with it and you shiver at the sensation, nerves tingling down your spine.

Steve's hands move to your ass cupping it and squeezing the dough of each cheek as he noses at your clit and you yelp, fingers slipping on the wood.

He mouths at you, a breathless laugh, before he circles his nose around the swollen button and you moan loudly, "Oh, Steve, I-". Steve hums, tongue licking lazily as he allows his nose to drag against you in all the right places when your noises get louder and louder.

Your breath is coming quickly and it's not long before your shoulders relax. Before your thighs push closer to his ears, fingers tugging in his hair and hips rolling against him.

Steve laps up everything you give him with fervor. When you roll your hips harder and whimper at how his nose leads his tongue through you, your fingers yank, your thighs shake and you moan louder than you ever have. Eyes fluttering as you whine, "Fuck, baby, right there Steve."

He pulls away from you gasping at your words, for air, and your stomach flutters.

It's too dark and you groan, you can't see him and you flick on the switch of the lamp, yanking your dress over your head. His carmel hair is rumpled, eyes shimmering as they dance over your exposed and lit up body. His lips and chin are glossy and red, cheeks rosy and your chest tightens at the sight as your walls clench around nothing.

"I thought-"

Your fingers tug in his hair, voice breathless "Steve?"

"Yeah?" His tongue licks at his lips - at you, and you have to blow a calming breath out your nose.

"Be quiet?" You raise your eyebrows and Steve melts.

His cheeks turn maroon, he curses, kissing and nipping at your thighs until you're tugging on his hair harder. He practically growls into you before your hips start chasing his nose and tongue again.

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #superbly subpar steve smut

534 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 1 year

Note

Could I request Steve eating his gf from behind (and taking her from behind too 🤭) while they’re at a summer party and their friends could maybe hear?

the song: Rendezvous by Jenevieve

warnings: little praise kink if you squint/a teeny tiny dom steve with his dialogue | mentions of alcohol

“Baby, shh, come on.”

Steve’s scolding is met with your too loud giggle, with the squeeze of his fingers against yours. The gleam of his teeth in the moonlight tells you he’s not actually mad.

Skin slick with the sweat from the summer day you’ve all had by the lake, the moon replacing the sun doing nothing to soothe the heat. The bonfire’s glow and the drinks being poured into cheap red plastic adding to the buzzing in your stomach that has slowly grown into an ache for the boy who is leading you through the trees.

Blondie crackling from the speakers out of Eddie’s open van doors, the laughter of the party all fading into a quiet din as the orange embers drift lazily into the midnight sky and get lost amongst the stars sparkling above you.

“Steve,” your whine of his name has him licking his lips. Fingers slipping in yours before you grip him harder, your other hand holding his wrist as you stumble along behind him.

You were just as needy as he was and part of him wants to savor it, to tease you and make you beg, but the larger part of him knows this is going to be over quickly. He’s pent up - days without seeing each other only to spend your first day back together with people around you, with your skin exposed in a swimsuit, feeding him strawberries and licking the juice from your fingers with a sparkle in your eyes and-

He spins, unable to hold it all in anymore. You halt abruptly behind him, eyes wide and glancing over your shoulder to where you can’t see the party but its noises aren’t quite as faint as either of you would like. Your gulp is cute and Steve’s fingers trace down your throat as you squeak, “Here?”

Leaves and twigs crunch beneath his sneakers as Steve takes a step closer to you. The boy’s eyes are wild as the pads of his fingers graze down your neck to your shoulders, fiddling with the yellow straps. Steve’s nose brushes yours as he leans in, cherry and whiskey on his breath as he pleads, “You can be quiet, right honey?”

Your whimper makes heat run down his spine and his lips meet yours finally. Warm and wet, gliding easily together and before you can relax into the kiss, Steve is squeezing your hips and pulling away breathless. His fingers tap at your waist, head nodding forward as his nose bumps yours. His request is a breath, almost lost before it meets your ears, “Turn around.”

Your thighs press together at the seriousness of his tone, the way the pupils take over his eyes and the way his groan rumbles deep in his chest when you do as you’re told.

Steve’s chest presses to your back, pushing you both into the large tree in front of you. Your mouth drops open in a gasp as his nose traces your ear. Hands squeezing your hips before they’re sliding down down down the curve of your ass. His lips are wet, breath hot and pulling goosebumps to the surface of your skin. Your fingers curl into the rough bark as you arch your back for him.

The hem of your dress in his fingers bunches and he speaks into your shoulder, “Hold this.”

Nodding your head, your hands scramble off of the tree and reach for it, fingers connecting with his. Steve’s lips and nose travel down your spine as his hands move over the outside of your thighs and back up as he drops to his knees.

Slick pools in the red bikini bottoms as his fingers trace the seam over where they cut high on each of your cheeks. Steve’s lips follow back down, nipping at the curve with his teeth as he cups your ass with both hands and groans. You giggle but it quickly turns into a moan as he pulls the fabric of your suit to the side and brushes a finger through your slit.

Steve sighs at the sight of you dripping on his finger, at the way your thighs try to clamp around his hand. He tuts, nipping at your ass again and smiling against your skin as you whine at his words, “Baby, come on, gotta keep these open f’me.”

Your back arches further for him, legs spreading and both of your stomach’s flip at his praise, “Good girl.”

He holds your suit to the side with skilled fingers, hands spreading your cheeks for him so he can lick through your folds, teasing at your entrance with his tongue. Steve moans into you as you push your hips back against him, his fingers digging into the dough of your ass and leaving bruises.

Your head falls back, a gasp up to the stars as they blink behind your closed eyes when he buries himself deeper, lips finding your clit and holding it between them as his tongue flicks it.

“St-steve,” you stutter as he removes himself from the vibrating nerves, tongue delving lower again.

The plan was to just make you finish, it would be satisfying enough, hold him over.

That’s just not the case anymore.

Steve curses, standing quickly and he swears his belt has never sounded louder than it does then. Jeans and boxers shoved down his thighs quickly, you press your ass into him and he moans as you grind back on his length, precum staining your suit.

“I know, baby, I know, just-” he’s wrecked. He can’t think straight from the whine that bubbles behind your lips, at the sound of the music that’s not that far away. Steve swears he’s left the planet when you reach behind yourself and grab his dick, pumping with your hand slowly. “Christ.”

Steve pulls your suit to the side again and he’s drunk on the way your lips part over his cock, the easy slide from your slick and the breathless ‘fuck’ that leaves your pouting mouth. He slips in and you moan loudly, his hand coming up and pressing over your mouth quickly. Once he’s pushed himself in fully, weight heavy on your back, his arm snakes around your waist and holds you up against him. His lips press to your ear, fingers slipping from your mouth and holding your chin as he breathes out before thrusting slowly, “Baby, shh, you wanna cum right?”

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #superbly subpar steve smut

441 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 1 year

Note

siiiiiiiigh, taylor. you're the only one i trust with this and i don't know if you take requests but i'm desperate (like the i'm in pain + aching kind of desperate) for wealthy!steve to take us out on his lil yacht and absolutely rail us off the coast of italy :(

the song: Pineapple Slice by Tove Lo & SG Lewis

warnings: secluded public spot / Sorry I've never been to Italy, my only experience are slutty Joe pics & The Lizzie McGuire movie 🤷‍♀️

He turns his black baseball hat around for better access to your body. His lips skim the seam of your suit, thick fingers messing with the ties on your hips. He squeezes the plump skin, dragging and scratching down your thighs as he pulls the bikini bottom from your body. Your back arches against the leather cushions of the boatseat, hips lifting for him. The sun is blinding white - high in the sky, and the drip of cool ocean water from his hair soothes the sweat coating your body.

You whisper the name of the man you've just met when his nose skims up the inside of your legs, nipping at your thighs as his large hands push them wider for better access.

"Come on honey, need to taste you." The endearment falls easily from his lips despite knowing each other less than 24 hours. This isn't what you thought would be the aftermath of your night out with friends.

Green flashes and purple shimmers as base radiated from your feet into your chest. Sweet drinks and stealing cherries from everyone as you danced and bounced in the Italian club to a song you didn't know. Hips swaying to a good beat and when you turned, you saw him. He's smug, a lopsided smile, a hand running through chestnut hair. A glint in his hazel eyes and the flashes of green overhead illuminate the silver chain, the ring on his middle finger and the watch on his wrist that all scream money. A flirty line about how dancing like you were was dangerous, an offer of buying you bubbly expensive things that taste sweet on your tongue, and hands on your hips as your chests pressed closer, moving to the music together until your lips collided. All ending in an offer of taking you out on his boat tomorrow, a secluded little spot off the coast.

And here you are.

Steve's thumbs spread your lips for him, and his tongue licks a broad stripe through you. Thighs squeezing around his ears, muffling the sounds of the waves crashing into the rocks and the side of the boat. His mouth works lazily but precise as his hands roam under the curve of your ass. Pads of his fingers push into your skin, curvy and thick and he pulls you tighter around him, desperate for more. Tongue licking and swirling around your clit, mouth moving lower as he sucks one of your lips. A moan falls from your parched mouth and your toes curl as a rough wave rocks the boat, adding to the boil bubbling in your stomach.

He brings his attention back to the throbbing nerves, sucking around it and kitten licking with his tongue as a finger nudges at your entrance. One finger easily slips in, a second following and you clench around them as they curl. He finds the spot that has you lifting yourself off the seat. Your fingers tug in his wet locks, chest heaving as you look down at him. Sweat beads down the dip of your breasts as you plead his name, begging to release.

Steve removes himself, shaking his head no. His eyes are taken over by his black pupils, his dark chest hair curls with saltwater and sweat. He shoves the black wet fabric of his swimtrunks low enough to pull his throbbing length out. Your mouth waters at the sight of his muscles flexing as he tugs on himself, somehow getting harder and bigger. Lining the mushroom tip up with your entrance, Steve leans over you. He kisses your lips softly, tongue licking and tracing over your top lip until you sigh. The taste of yourself lingering, mixing with sweet fruit and salt from the ocean water that still clings to his tan and freckled skin.

Breath warm against your cheek as he whispers, "I need to be inside you when you cum, pretty girl."

You nod, desperate, your orgasm right on the cusp already and he lets his weight fall against you as he slides into your entrance in a quick and powerful thrust. Your cry against his lips has him squeezing at every ounce of your skin he can find. Lips drifting and pressing sweet kisses to your neck that contrast with the quick and sharp movements of his hips slapping against yours.

"Oh, fuck," your lashes are wet with tears at the ache in your gut, "Steve, I'm gonna cum!"

"Yeah?" He's breathless, groaning as your fingers scratch up his back.

The weight of his chest against yours is somehow comforting, and the pressure and graze of the thick hair at his base hitting the perfect spot that has you hanging on the edge of the cliff you've been climbing.

Steve's fingers rub messy circles into your puffy and needy clit, nerves vibrating beneath the pads of his fingers. He attaches his mouth to yours again as you take the jump, freefalling off the ledge until you hit the water. Walls tightening around him, body spasming beneath his. His release follows quickly, throbbing inside of you as he grips at your sides, squeezing and breathing your name into your parted lips.

He slows his thrusts, both of you gasping for air. Sounds of the waves return, the sun feels even warmer as the sweat falls off of both of your hot skin.

Steve reaches above your head, grabbing a piece of pineapple and holding it up to your mouth. You stare into each other's eyes, something in your gazes warming for each other as your breathless panting finds a rhythm together. Your lips wrap around the fruit, biting into the pineapple slice. Juice flows into your mouth, sweet and sticky and quenching a thirst you didn't know you had. Steve's thumb brushes over your bottom lip, tugging a little meanly until it pops back into place. He brings his thumb up to his lips and sucks the juice free from the skin.

The sun still has half the sky to conquer and you have no where to be other than on a boat off the coast of Italy with a rich boy who has an entire pineapple sliced and ready to feed you with.

---

----

-----

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #superbly subpar steve smut

460 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 9 months

Note

hi! figured i’d send in a little prompt if that’s okay, hope your writer’s block gets a little better :))

82. “I’ve been so horny all day.” for Steve if that’s alright! (up to you whether he or reader is saying it teehee)

ty in advance and have a lovely day <3

my blog is 18+

“You’re doing it again.”

Steve’s huff of breath leaves his nose loudly, glancing out of the corner of your eye, you find him banging his forehead lightly against the door frame. He mumbles something that sounds like sorry and spins on his heels, his socked feet slipping on the hardwood floors as the blue shirt disappears around the corner. Your mouth twists as you do your best to ignore his ass in the tight green athletic shorts.

His woodsy cologne lingers, just as it has all day upon every interruption, mixing with the candle you have lit that’s supposed to smell like rain and autumn leaves. Remnants of your grilled cheese Steve brought you hours ago crumble on a plate, your fingers reach for an open bag of Sour Patch Kids as you click and unclick your pen. Popping a green one in your mouth, your lips pucker as you hum around the tart candy, highlighting a quote.

Tangerine squares paint the floor of your living room, slanting and elongating more and more as the sun shifts, you smile at another quote from the director, making a comment in your notebook as you sit up. Propped onto your knees now, you quietly sing along to Frank Sinatra as your fingers hover over the piles of papers littered around you, searching for one in particular to make another note on.

Steve can’t fucking take this.

He leans against the center island of the kitchen, watching as your nose wrinkles when you go back to reading. You tap the pen to your lips as they move, reading out loud to yourself as your eyebrows furrow together. You're lit up in oranges and golds, his shirt and a pair of biker shorts so how could anyone blame him when he returns to the living room after barely five minutes since you told him he was doing it again.

This time, as he quietly enters, you don’t say anything, eyes bouncing between the book and where your pen moves rapidly across the lined paper.

Steve’s presence is all consuming, especially when he sits on you. His legs straddle your hips, thumbs softly rubbing at your lower spine and your head falls forward in a moan and he bites the inside of his cheek behind you at the sound. Steve presses a little harder, massaging up your spine as you go back to reading.

The vinyl record crackles, Steve’s humming mixing with the scratch of your pen. You reach your fingers over your shoulder, holding a blue candy up to him - his favorite and your least - as you start telling him all about something you’re excited for in class. You light up when you talk about your project, about future ones, about an interesting fact you just read and so really, truly, no one can blame him for what he does next.

Steve’s lips brush behind your ear, his nose skimming down the curves of it as his hands grip at your hips. Your breathy gasp of air is the only encouragement he needs to take it further. He nips at the dip of your neck where it meets the collar of his shirt, mumbling into your skin, “You’re so hot, you’ve been driving me crazy. I’ve been so horny all day.”

Your laugh makes his lips twitch against your shoulder blade, he whines at your teasing and the layer of fabric between him and your skin, “Babe.”

“I’m sorry, Steve, I had no idea unwashed hair and studying did it for you.” You pop another candy in your mouth, trying your best to ignore the way he feels against your ass.

He squeezes at your sides, fingers curling around your hip and he tugs lightly, huffing out of his nose again. “You’re so focused, and smart, and passionate, and you look so cute when you’re singing,” he kisses over and over, up and down your neck, smiling as you tuck your chin down and squirm underneath him, “And you did that little dance when I brought you food, and I heard you in here grumbling about too many blue ones too yourself and-”

“Well there are too many blue ones.” You frown, biting your lip as his fingers roam higher against your side, warm pads pressing lightly to your soft skin.

Steve smiles and only hums in response, feeling how you circle your hips back against him. He’s not even sure you realize you did it and he knows you’re just as worked up as he is. Your yelp is cute when he smacks one of your ass cheeks, grabbing as much as he can as he groans in fake annoyance, “And then, you’re lying here all damn day, with this ass in the air. What’s a guy to do, huh?”

Your giggle cuts off as he ruts himself into you, hands sliding up and up and up until his weight is against your back. His fingers run down your arms, lacing with yours as he presses them down into the soft carpet. Steve rolls his hips, lips soft against your temple and then your cheek as your eyelashes flutter closed.

“Hmm?” He hums into your jaw, “I asked you a question, pretty girl, gonna answer me?”

Steve’s breath is hot against your neck, one of his hands releases yours, traveling back down your body, skimming the band of your shorts and tugging, snapping it against your hip as he pushes himself into your ass harder.

“St-Steve.” Your back arches as his name leaves you in a breath, your cheek presses to the carpet, exposing more of your neck for him to assault with this tongue and teeth.

He nips at your ear, thick fingers pushing past the lace he finds as his hand curls around to your front. He chuckles into your hair as his fingers meet your slit, wet for him already. His tone condescending, “I don’t think that answered my question, what’s the matter babe? A little kissing and teasing and that big brain is already empty, yeah?”

Your clit throbs at his words, fingers curling and gripping for purchase in the threads of the carpet. The whine that leaves your lips is pathetic, rolling your hips back in search for more.

His hand is gone faster than you can respond, both on your waist and flipping you before your eyes are blinking up at him dazed. Steve’s hands hold yours above your head, both of your chests heaving as he hovers over your lips. He ruts himself into you and you know that asshole isn’t wearing boxers. His length barely separated from where you both want it, twitches against you, felt through the thin layers.

His mouth parts yours softly, tongue slipping over yours a little filthy. Rolls of hips and noses nudged into cheeks, he kisses you like he’s wanted to all day. He only pulls away when he needs air, smiling as you whine and loop your hands around his neck, lifting and following him.

His hair falls over his forehead, the orange and pink sunset coming in cuts across his eyes making them golden, his cheeks a complimenting tint that grows darker as he takes in your face too. He lets his top lip skim your bottom one again in a soft and brief pass, hands squeezing at your waist. Who’s he kidding, teasing you and trying to be all suave - Steve doesn’t even remember his middle name with the way you’re looking at him.

His breath falls against your lips as he pleads rather than commands.

“Can I fuck you so good all the studying you did today was for nothing?”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #superbly subpar steve smut

379 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 1 year

Note

taylor, light of my life, woman of my dreams.

~ For your smut requests, via a previous conversation we both had. Your prompt is pathetic steve apologizing. maybe he’s on his knees, maybe he’s following you around a party, or you’re giving him the cold shoulder in your shared apartment. I don’t know, whatever you choose we both know we just wanna hear him say “Baby, baby, come on don’t be mad. I’m sorry.”

the song: Best Sex Ever by Vedo

warnings: some comparison to Nancy fucking Wheeler.

The red glow of the alarm clock mocks your wide awake state with numbers that tell you it’s far too late, or well early, to still be awake. You can hear the fridge hum a room over, the drip in the faucet loud enough to mix with the sheets shifting against skin - letting you know Steve is still awake too.

Refusing to turn and face him, you stare at the open closet door, at the dress on the ground in a crumpled heap that never got a chance to leave the house. There was a lot said, but the only thing that is crystal clear is that you’ll never be Nancy fucking Wheeler.

Before you could leave, Steve’s palm had pressed to the wood front door over your shoulder, his forehead against your spine as he squeezed at your hip, thumb brushing back and forth under your shirt and begged you to stay, “Please. Don’t go. Let’s…”

You spun around, raised eyebrows and refused to let the sight of his glassy eyes or pink cheeks deter you from being hurt.

Steve blew out his breath, fingers cradling your jaw, “Let’s talk, fuck, let’s fight. Yell at me, I can take it. Just don’t go.”

So you yelled.

Well, you tried to, mainly you just cried. You told him over and over again to just put you out of your misery, to go be with her. Steve remained adamant that would never happen, that Nancy Wheeler was nothing to him anymore - only for you to only throw back that you couldn’t even leave for dinner without being compared to her.

Eventually the tears stopped and so did the words. Steve suggested going to bed, whispering once more that he liked that you weren’t Nancy, he loved that you were different from her, and that he was sorry.

Now he stares at your back, he watches the rise and fall of your shoulders with each breath, he knows you’re still awake. He can still smell the new perfume on your skin, the crumpled dress and his suit jacket on the floor just visible over your shoulder and he sighs. He’s such a fucking idiot.

His fingers reach towards your hip hesitantly, the pads brushing the little slip of skin between the big t-shirt and boxers that you stole from him years ago. Your body stills, but he lets his fingers brush back and forth, as he scoots closer to you. He leaves space between your bodies, fingers venturing to your arm and running them up and down as he speaks into your shoulder.

“Are we still fighting?”

When he’s met with silence, his chest aches and he squeezes his eyes closed.

“I’m an idiot, okay? I didn’t even think about how…I just…I don’t know, okay? I don’t know how to fix it, but I’ll do it. But baby,” he laces his fingers with yours against the mattress, kissing your shoulder and your resolve starts to melt, “Baby. Come on, don’t be mad at me. Please.”

His nose nuzzles into your shoulder, hand engulfing yours and you know he didn’t mean to hurt you and you’ve said all there is to say. If Steve is still here, then he’s still here for a reason.

“I’m not mad.”

You roll your eyes at the feel of his smile against your shoulder as he asks, “No?”

“Don’t get excited,” you huff, but your body scoots back against his warmth and he has to bite his smile back when you continue, “You have a lot of making up to do, buddy.”

Steve’s fingers squeeze yours as he drags his nose over your shoulder to your neck. He presses a soft kiss to the skin there before whispering, “Well, good thing I have a whole plan then.”

Lips wet and breath warm as his kisses roam over your neck, up and down as you try to talk, voice breathy and making him smile against your skin as you question, “A plan, huh?”

He hums, nose brushing over your ear, “Mhm, first step, some kissing.” He breathes over a spot on your neck that has your fingers grabbing at the sheets, arching against him as his hand rubs up your arm.

Your lip tugs between your teeth, fighting a moan as his teeth graze over the same spot, sucking a bruise into your skin as his hand continues its journey over your body, resting on your hip. Steve’s breath is shallow as he releases his lips from your neck, hands tugging you back against him. “Step two,” his fingers skim over the band of the boxers, slipping under and moving lower when he feels how wet you already are for him and he falters “Shit, uh, I-”.

Steve’s eyelids flutter, his swallow too loud in the quiet room as you whine, “Steve. Step two?”

His middle finger slides between your folds, coated in slick, back up and circling your clit and your fingers tangle the sheet between them further. Steve collects himself, making sure not to grind against your ass that pushes back against his dick harder - this is about you.

"Right, step two," he pulls his hand from your pussy, smiling against your jaw at the whine it causes and he shushes you softly, tugging on your clothes and trying to sound stern but he laughs through the words, "We gotta get all this shit off - patience baby."

Your body shimmies as Steve pulls his boxers and your underwear down your legs a little roughly, frantic with his movements. You kick them off of your ankles and begin to roll to face him. Steve's hand stops your knee, fingers running up your thigh and tapping lightly, voice growing rough and needy as he whispers into your ear, "Step three, open up wider for me, honey."

The shiver that runs down your spine involuntary when Steve whispers, "Good girl," as you hitch your leg higher, resting against his thigh. Steve's fingers continue to move up your skin, slipping easily back between your lips. You don't need to be worked up, to get ready for him, it's clear you already are. Embarrassingly wet if it weren't for Steve's own neediness and desperation clear in his actions and tone.

He slips a finger inside of you, pushing easily into your entrance and curling into the spot that has you gasping. Steve mouths at your neck, the soft fabric of his sweats doing nothing to hide his hard length or how it twitches against your ass when you beg him for more.

A second finger inside of you without hesitation, they glide in and out effortlessly, his fingers hitting the same spot in a building rhythm that has your eyelids fluttering and your body heating up. Steve's lips press kiss after kiss into your neck, a drag of his teeth, nips to your skin soothed by his tongue. His thumb finally pays attention to your clit, soft circles as he grinds against you from behind, unable to help himself when you make noises like that.

Your eyelids flutter, fingers wrapping around his wrist and holding him tighter against you as you shamelessly roll your hips down on his fingers. Your neck extends for him, back arching as your walls flutter around his fingers. You're so wet, leg digging into his as you whimper his name.

Steve gasps against your neck, "Come on baby, relax. Give me one, please?"

Your walls tighten, the fingers wrapped around his wrist gripping harder as you release around him, somehow getting wetter as the coil in your stomach burns hotter, waves of your orgasm rippling through you. While you come down, Steve's careful to lay you on your back, to kiss up your stomach, your sides. Lips ghosting over your ribs and chest as he removes your shirt. Mouth sucking and licking at your skin as he pushes out of his own pants and lays above you.

He taps at your thigh, pushing your legs wider as he kisses your jaw, your cheeks, and finally your lips. It's much sweeter than any kiss you've shared, his thumb brushing over your cheek, fingers curled under your chin as yours tangle in his hair. Steve rests above you, coarse chest hair rubbing against your skin as you squirm underneath him, his cock gliding between your folds as your hips roll and he licks at your bottom lip before sucking. Steve moans into your open mouth, the sweet apology kiss turning desperate and dirty as your legs wrap around his waist, coating him in more slick as your tongues meet. Hair pulled a little meanly, his teeth on your lip a little harder and you're gasping into each other's mouths.

Steve's breathless, blinking down at you with hooded eyes, rosy cheeks and swollen lips. Nudging his nose into your cheek as he rasps, "Step 5, we have the best sex anyone's ever had."

You laugh, cradling his face and pressing your forehead to his as he slides inside of you easier than he ever has. Breathlessly asking, "Yeah?"

Steve nods, noses bumping and lips hovering over yours as you both adjust to the feeling of him inside of you, "Yeah."

Lips connecting again as he begins to thrust slowly. Steve's hands roam down your sides carefully and thoughtfully, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His hips roll against yours as his fingers squeeze your waist. You sigh, deepening the kiss as your thumbs swipe over his cheeks, legs wrapping around him tighter. Each thrust slow and meaningful as his mouth parts over yours, languid yet sure in each pass.

Your arms wrap around his neck, back arching as his warm palms flatten against your spine when they envelope you. You're interlocked, bodies connected and touching everywhere they can.

Steve stops kissing you, whispering your name as his hips still. He waits until your eyes flutter open to speak. The honey in his melting and turning gold as the navy sky outside the window starts to break and turn a soft blue.

"I'm yours, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Your smile is warm, and you kiss his bottom lip, speaking into the corner of his mouth as you kiss over his jaw, "I know."

He captures your lips again, picking up his thrusts once more, a hand grazing up your spine till it's cradling the back of your neck and tilting you for him, kissing you even deeper as he pushes inside you in the same way, hitting a spot he never has before.

You're happy you're not Nancy Wheeler and that you never will be when Steve gasps your name over and over again, making it up to you and then some for hours.

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things fanfic #superbly subpar steve smut #superbly subpar steve angst

392 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 11 months

Note

For the blurb smut I would like to read something about Steve and Robin but I don’t really have an idea, maybe Robin has a crush for reader who is Steve’s girlfriend, she loves Steve but she has a crush for Robin too, so Steve decides to let his girl have fun? Maybe he teaches some tricks to Robin for making his girl fell good? Does it make sense? Obviously Steve and Robin won’t sexually interact with each other 💛

the song: Sin City by Chrishan

warnings: This one is all just smut with you and Steve, but mentions of what just happened with Robin throughout and he's a little jealous/possessive. I want it to be clear that this blurb is coming from the perspective of a bisexual woman, and that Robin is not a fetish to be used in fics and that is not my intention at all. 💛

"She was kissing my thighs and fuck-" Your hands tangle in his hair, his mouth on your neck latched on for dear life. His fingers bruise your waist as he drags you back down, flush against the coarse hair at his base.

Your hips roll, satisfying friction against your puffy clit as the sweat glistens on his tan and muscular shoulders in the moonlight coming in through the windows. The cold tile of the shower walls that soothed your heated skin a quickly fading memory.

Your neck burns from his teeth, his tongue licking at it as he pants into your skin, "Come on angel, you can do better than that."

"Her...her tongue...she, oh -" your words break off in a moan as he thrusts up into you a little meanly, abusing the spongy spot that you know only he can hit.

"Did she make you cum?" He breathes into your jaw, teeth nipping at your neck as it extends for him. Mouthing at the column of your throat as the pads of his fingers roll circles into your clit. "It sounded like it."

You're overwhelmed, Steve making you feel so good, but you can still feel Robin's tongue. Can still taste yourself on her mouth. Fingers through Steve's hair is compared to hers now. Gripping at his shoulders, you can still feel her smooth skin beneath yours. And the thought that he was right outside the door the entire time is too much.

"Yo-you were listening?" Gasping for air as he thrusts faster, your hips moved expertly up and down as his large palms shift to your ass and squeeze.

He hums, nose brushing over the shell of your ear, thrusts slowing again as he whispers, "You know I love your sounds, couldn't help myself..."

Steve rolls you suddenly, sliding back inside easily and the new position makes you moan loudly.

His palms press into the mattress on either side of your head, his hips meet yours in a fast and passionate thrust, the dirty pump in and slow drag out loud. The pornographic sound of you dripping for both of them filling the room and mingling with your cries of his name. It's not the same anymore now that you've had her name on your lips too.

His smile hovers over your mouth and he breathes heavily, "But I think we should show her what you sound like when you really cum, honey."

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfiction #superbly subpar steve smut #superbly subpar robin spice

203 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 3 months

Text

Sincerely, Yours:

bestfriend!steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: a movie night, a confession, an offer, your Calvin's bunched up on the floor of your best friend's BMW...and other places | 18+ Only, NSFW | main menu

the song: Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds - all of steve's music

6.6k words

warnings: "inexperienced" reader - in the form of never really making out/receiving none/not great foreplay - masturbating for comfort/ease before sex, SMUT (public - in the back of Steve's car - "caught" by Hopper when you're done, oral, fingering, steve cums in his levi's cause I'm a sucker for doing this to him, what can I say?)

A/N: Once upon a time, I asked for requests, and I failed to fulfill many of them (you may have heard this story before), but this one sat in the drafts for many many months, and then I really chickened out posting it for a long time. Everyone say thanks to @palmtreesx3 - I owe her and the request for the prompt "we're not really just best friends, are we?"(which isn't even used in this, but you get the picture) and The Breakfast Club for this fic 💛

He didn’t hear it at first, over the last remaining popping kernels.

“What?” He called around a mouthful of the snack he was already dipping into before it was finished.

In the other room, your attention was strictly on Judd Nelson, but you tried again, with no real power or meaning behind the words.

“Want me to pause it?”

“No,” he shook his head and rolled his eyes to no one but himself in the kitchen, “Don’t think you need to pause the movie I’ve seen three times…this week.”

“I’d love one, thanks!”

Steve snorted at your response that made no sense, it becoming apparent you weren’t listening to him at all. He should have known this was his fate after the way you acted when it was showing at The Hawk. You saw it with him, then Robin, then Nancy, and Steve put his foot down when you tried to drag him down there for a fourth time.

Now here he was, dumping the popcorn into a large bowl and watching it again. He didn’t even know what number of views he was on with you, which had him worried about your sanity, ‘cause you had to be watching it without him too.

Steve snagged two cans of Coke out of the fridge, assuming that’s what you’d love one of, and kicked the door closed with his heel.

He cradled the popcorn bowl against his side and held each of the cans with one hand and spread fingers, socked feet slipping on the hardwoods when he rounded the corner and saw you again.

Despite becoming incredibly bored by the movie, he did love watching you watch it, because somehow, it’s as if you’re watching it for the first time every time.

Your white tube socks were stark against the dark wood of the coffee table, bunching around your ankles that led him to the exposed skin of your calves. Which led to the way your blue skirt fanned over your thighs all nice, then the Queen shirt he got you for your birthday tucked into it, your thumb between your teeth with your eyebrows bunched together.

His best friend was really fucking pretty.

He almost said it out loud, which had him flopping onto the couch a little quickly, a little too heavy with his fall. Careless in his aim of the cushion and causing popcorn to spill from the bowl into your lap as his shoulder jostled yours.

Before he could even say sorry, you were grabbing the popcorn from your lap like it was the bowl, blissfully unaware it wasn’t, all the while making heart eyes at dreamy Bender.

“Thanks,” your appreciation came out heavy around the buttery and salty handful of the snack, the Coke you’d love sitting on the coffee table, already forgotten.

Steve hummed, his amused lips twitched in a losing fight against a smile at your captivated stare fixated on the screen. He suppressed an eye roll at the scene about to happen, as he swiped condensation off the cool metal of the can with his thumb.

He popped the drink open with a loud hiss, slurping his first sip - a habit you’d normally swat at his chest for - but you were too busy focusing on the words about to leave Judd’s mouth.

“Have you ever kissed a boy on the mouth?”

They sort of just tumbled out of Steve too, while his eyes glanced over the popcorn bowl, searching for a perfectly buttery piece. Which is why he didn’t see that he, your best friend, quoting the scene that has dialogue that got you all hot and bothered more than others, had your entire body freezing.

Steve tossed the acquired piece into the air, catching it in his mouth before he turned to face your profile. He found you with widened eyes, chest rising and falling a little too quickly, and he grinned.

“Have you ever been felt up…over the bra…under the blouse…your shoes off, hoping to god your parents don’t walk in?”

He’s simply delighted when he quotes the scene again and your body shifts, toes curling as you arched your neck away from. You kept your eyes on the screen, not giving him the satisfaction of eye contact because of what he was slowly, finally, realizing.

You were totally turned on and he couldn’t wait to tease you about it forever.

Steve leaned in closer, whispering along with the movie, “Over the panties…no bra…blouse unbuttoned…Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?”

He’s gearing up, about to tease you, make some dumb boy comment about being hot for the school freak, when your quiet, barely a breath response had him pausing.

“No.”

Did you just say that out loud?!

Your head turned to find Steve blinking at you, creases in his forehead deepening beneath the stray locks of hair that fell forward.

Looks like you did.

“Ste-”

“What? What do you mean no?”

Your eyes closed when you both spoke at the same time, avoiding his curious stare. Hands roamed to your cheeks to hide your face as your head fell towards your knees.

As you shook your head no, your response gets muffled into your skirt. “I meant no.”

Steve’s hand nudged at your shoulder, prodding for clarity and for you to sit up. He failed to sound casual when his question came out incredulously.

“No, you’ve never kissed a guy?”

Your hands still covered your face as you fell back against the couch with a groan, “No, I..I have. I just…”

Steve pulled at your hands, his heart racing like it was overtime. All these years, he thought you’d been with all these other guys, his quiet jealousy seething under the surface of his tinged green from envy skin.

A breath, well, more of a huff really, slipped past your lips as your gaze dropped to the hands holding yours in your lap. “I’ve never really made out with anyone? Just like…a quick kiss or two. I don’t even know, can you even count it as kissing? Over before it starts kind of thing…”

The ramble trailed off, the room silent save for the movie still playing and the giant, loud, big, fat, zero response from Steve. You counted the threads in the carpet, the pieces of popcorn in the bowl as your skin grew hotter and hotter from the reveal he’s left just hanging there until he finally sputtered out a sorry excuse for one.

“Are you shitting me? We’re like…old.”

It doesn’t come out how he meant it to at all, he’s just shocked. He’s wincing almost immediately as the words reach his ears and brain, he knows how it sounded. He wishes he could take it back when your head whips up, hurt eyes meeting his as you ripped your hands away from him.

“Yeah, Steve,” you scoffed, jaw pulsing as your voice dripped with sarcasm that tried to cover the embarrassment, “I’m shitting you. Thought it’d be real funny to trick you into thinking your best friend is a loser who’s barely been kissed even though she’s so old.”

Pieces of popcorn fell from your lap as you stood, not letting yourself wonder where they came from as you stomped around the coffee table and towards his entryway.

“No, honey, wait-” he stumbled after you, spilling Coke down the front of his shirt as he did, “Shit.”

He patted at his chest like it’d do anything, shirt damp and sticking to his skin as he rounded the corner and found you lacing up your converse and shaking your head.

“It’s fine, Steve. I’m fine. I just don’t feel like talking about it. I’m gonna go home. Don’t worry about it. Girl stuff.”

“No, please, I didn’t mean-”

His words stopped just as abruptly as your body, when the front door swung open to reveal an out of nowhere downpour.

Your head fell as you started to ask, and he was already one step ahead of you.

“Can you please-”

“I’ll grab my keys.”

He was tripping up his stairs by the time he finished saying it. When he returned, it was in a clean shirt, jumping from the second to last step as he swirled the keys around his pointer finger.

The light blue fabric of his new shirt pulled at his shoulders that hunched when your glare remained unwavering despite the apologetic puppy dog eyes he had going for him.

You understood Steve didn’t mean for the comment to start the hole he was digging, and you knew you weren’t being fair for being so upset. It’s not like it was his fault, it was just your own insecurities manifesting in an anger towards him.

The nagging feeling of being some sort of freak who’d never made out while even the little twerps who clung to Steve were, while your best friend was Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High only grew stronger. The thought of Steve thinking you were some sort of weirdo for being old and never making out had something in your gut churning, had a familiar sting behind your eyes forming that you tried your best to ignore.

When Steve opened his mouth, about to try to make it all better again, you simply turned on your heel and stalked out into the rain. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at the way you stomped through it, pretending to not be drowned.

He quickly rushed behind you and got to the door first and swung it open, to which you rolled your eyes at, but slid in and got comfortable while he closed it for you nonetheless.

Unsure why he went and changed as he raced around the hood and shot into the driver’s seat, totally soaked through to his skin now. He cranked the heat before swiping fingers over his eyes, a large hand ran through his hair and pushed it back only for it to fall into his eyes again. Steve reached over with wet and shaking fingers at the same time you held yours up, both of you pausing and glancing at the other’s hands.

Steve was about to cup your fingers between his and blow warm breath onto them, just like he always did, but you ripped your hands down to your lap, and curled your body against the door, like you needed to be as far from him as you could be.

Your damp forehead touched the cool glass of the window as he sighed, “Please don’t-”

“Just take me home, please?”

The tone in which the words were said has something in his chest breaking. Like you were really fucking sad, embarassed, it was a real plea to just take you home and leave you alone.

So he wasn’t gonna do that, ‘cause he never was a great listener, so why start now?

He pretends though, he backs out of the driveway and heads in the direction of your apartment. He lets the radio fill the space and he turns the heat down when the air inside the car is heavier and warm despite your cold shoulder. The orange glow of the street lights slanted inside the car in a soothing rhythm as his wheels spun over the pavement until he was coming to the last four way stop before your apartment.

It unfolds just as he had planned, when he’s still stopped at the deserted intersection, as your breath fogged up the glass when you asked, “Harrington, you planning on leaving the intersection anytime soon?”

His bottom lip wobbled as his teeth continued to press into it, thick fingers rubbing at a scruff dotted jaw as he thought out loud in an attempt to sway you.

“Well, you see, I could go straight and take you home-” he started.

“Right. Let’s do that.” You waved your hand towards the direction of the apartment that held the ice cream you were desperate to eat and wallow with while watching Pretty In Pink.

“Or,” Steve interrupted right back, tapping on the steering wheel with his finger as he did, “I could go to the right. Pull into the diner. Buy you a milkshake and say sorry?”

The thing was, he was gonna go to the right regardless of your answer. He knew once you pulled into the parking lot there was no way you’d not at least go in and get fries and a shake, if not a whole burger. You’d done this dance before, him putting his foot in his mouth was not a new occurrence.

Your lips twitched, but your arms stayed crossed as he hummed and whispered, “Tough choice…tough choice…”

Shoulders fell in defeat, but your mouth stayed downturned in a forced frown as you grumbled, “And fries.”

Steve smiled, turned on his blinker and nodded. He cleared his throat.

“And fries. Definitely.”

“And none of that you order yourself a vanilla shake and I order strawberry and you drink half of mine because it’s better and eat all the fries shit.”

“Of course,” Steve scoffed, “I would never do that.”

Steve slipped his straw into your shake, pulling the glass across the sticky tabletop as you did the same with his. He tried not to smirk around the straw when you did, dipping a fry in his vanilla he ordered for a reason despite the strawberry being better.

“Do you think Claire is a prude for never doing anything?”

He shook his head no almost immediately, swiping at stray ice cream from the corner of his mouth with his tongue.

You fiddled with the straw wrapped between your fingers and narrowed your eyes at him.

“Would your answer be the same if, say, Eddie was sitting here asking you? Not me, your best friend, who you have sudden pity for?”

He blinked at you and sighed, “I don’t have pity for you.”

“Your mouth and your eyes are telling two different stories Harrington,” you waved a fry at him as you spoke, gesturing to his face with it.

Your gaze stayed on the fry you were ripping in half, focused on watching it sink into the sweet vanilla as he dared to say, “I just don’t get it.”

“What, that I haven’t done that and I’m so old,” you tried to tease, to move past it.

But the way you were licking salt off your finger had him wondering if he swiped his own through the salt on the tray and pushed the pad against your lips if they would part like they were now, if he could taste it on your lips if he just leaned forward and-

“No, ‘cause you’re so fucking pretty.”

He definitely said it out loud that time.

You blinked at him, cheeks suddenly too warm for the cold and damp Spring that had been surrounding you all day.

“Ste-”

“And so smart,” he licked his lips, leaning forward, unable to stop now that it was out, “And funny. And…and sweet, you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know, I just don’t understand how guys aren’t falling over themselves, unable to do anything but make out with you, or more or-”

“I never said I didn’t do more,” you whispered, ignoring all of his compliments that made your chest feel all tight and sticky and choosing to argue with him instead because that was easier.

“But you said…if you haven’t made out with anyone…”

Your body slipped lower against the squeaky seat, embarrassed as you shrugged and Steve felt too hot in the tiny little booth, thinking about all those guys’ hands on you again, and then what you said, what it meant, really clicked.

“Hold on…how…how’d…you didn’t, build up to it?” He asked softly, eyes bouncing over your face with worry.

“Steve,” you grabbed for the other shake, and sat up straighter, “We don’t need to talk about this. It’s not import-”

“It’s so important,” he grabbed your hand and squeezed your fingers lightly, “Half the fun is all the build up to it. And,” he swallowed, forehead creasing with deeper worry, “And then it, it doesn’t hurt. ‘Cause tell me if I’m wrong, but if they weren’t making out with you, were they doing anything to make sure you felt good?”

You squirmed in your seat, fingers pushing up against his mindlessly, aimlessly, as you shrugged again. “It’s only hurt a few times. I learned that if I…um, If I got myself ready beforehand, that I was, uh, more comfortable.”

Steve’s fingers let go of yours with the excuse of grabbing a fry, because he was trying not to be a gross guy, but all he could think about was you in your bedroom, with your fingers between your thighs now. Did you play music? What song? Did you have underwear on? What color? With a shirt that your nipples were visibly hard through as you touched yourself and maybe it was his shirt or maybe you said his name or-

“Right,” Steve nodded, “Um, right. And that’s great, lots of people do that for a date, so like if you need or want to beforehand that’s not…that’s great. It just shouldn’t be the only thing, you know? They should be putting in the work, they should be wanting to. And dates! They should watch a movie with you, and dinner and drive around and then kiss so much you feel dizzy and then if you want, more.”

He finished his rambling speech and you smiled softly, unsure of what to say, because you knew he wasn’t wrong, it’s just that they had.

“They did,” you sighed, “Well, not Paul.”

Steve scowled at the table, “Yeah, well, I’m sure you weren’t missing much. Who wants to yell out Paul?”

“Oh,” you laughed, “And Steve is so much better?”

He looked up at you, your smile sweet and kind and your eyes a little sad, but trying not to be and he wanted to say yes. He wanted to tell you that if it was those lips and that voice saying it, it was better, because how could it not be? Like his name only had the best letters, like it belonged to the best guy in the world, one that belonged to you and no one else.

But you were swiping at ice cream on your lips and sighing, saying something that made his chest ache instead.

“They were nice dates. And it’s not like the sex was bad. But,” you looked out the window, eyes tracking the droplets of rain twinged neon from the light hanging above you both, “The kissing till I’m dizzy sounds nice. Is it…is it fun?”

“Yeah,” Steve whispered, admiring the way the red and blue lit up your profile before you turned to face him.

And then he was saying something before he really thought it through, because god you weren’t just fucking pretty, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever met and no way in hell was he letting anyone treat you the way you’d been ever again. So this was his chance, and he was taking the leap.

“I could…” he blew out a breath and smiled. He sat up straighter, and he searched for some sort of lingering king steve confidence he could latch onto without all the douche as he asked, “I could show you?”

To both of your surprise, you’d said yes, and he paid and you were in the car, driving, and parked somewhere in what felt like seconds. Now your best friend sat across from you, both of you facing the center console, but not daring to do more.

The rain beat against the roof of the maroon car, each drop a punctuated tick of a nonexistent clock - a meter for how much time was passing without movement, without words. Just both of your breathing filled the space. First exhaling, then desperately inhaling for more air as your chests rose and fell ragged. And then, like in some unspoken agreement only best friends can have, you both started to lean forward cause you just knew.

Your heart’s thrum threatened to drown out the rain, building and building, screaming to break out of your chest, pounding in your ears while your cheeks grew warm and your stomach dipped as Steve’s tongue slipped out quickly and wetted his lips.

But then he leaned and his eyes started to close and you giggled, fingers slipping over your lips as his eyelids shot open.

“Sorry,” you gasped and shook your head and your hands out as you tried to be serious, “Your ‘I’m about to kiss you’ face is real cute, Harrington.”

Tried being the definitive word.

“Cute?” He groaned, smiling, “Not sexy?”

You leaned in, faster this time, a smile matching his as you shrugged, “It’s nice. Never thought I’d be on the opposite side of it, is all.”

It’s easy to tilt your head and welcome the hand that reached up to cradle your jaw as he softly promised, “Your ‘I’m about to be kissed face’ is really cute too.”

The pad of his thumb brushed over the apple of your cheek in the tenderest touch you’d ever felt, before his fingers curled under your jaw and tilted you gently, slowly, up so his lips were right over yours.

It felt like he was handling you like the most precious and fragile thing, like a prized possession that he’d only ever hold with care and never let another soul touch.

His breath fanned over yours, warm and sweet smelling, vanilla and cherry just out of reach for you to taste as you dared to quip back again. “Alright, I’m gonna have to cross reference these lines with other girls you’ve promised to make dizzy, Harrington, cause if that’s the first time you’ve used that, I’m afraid it’s far too smooth…”

Steve’s heart felt like it was trying to claw out of his chest as you laughed, smiling at him when he responded, “And, I think that’s enough out of you.”

Which you couldn’t help but reply back to with, “Yeah? Have some fancy trick to get me to stop talking?”

He laughed, low, muffled and deep in his chest. “A few.”

A sharp inhale slipped past your lips when his nose bumps yours, not realizing how close he’d gotten while you joked back and forth nervously. There wasn’t a protocol on how to let your best show you a proper make out, on how to just dive in and start, you just knew you wanted to.

Steve’s swallow bobbed his adams apple as the leather beneath you creaked from shifting weight, needing to get closer. And as you did, his eyes found yours, mossy and dark in the low light, the browns and golds washed away in the rain. Their gaze flitted down to your lips, back up to fluttering eyelashes, and then his own eyelids were closing.

All it took was another breath in, an exhale out, and his lips were on yours. A simple, slow press, holding your top lip between the both of his. Strawberry and vanilla teasing you, and soon he was moving, now bottom lip between his and you got it. Your mouths parted together, lips slotting in a rhythm that came naturally, that clicked.

Something in your stomach fizzled and crackled like the sparklers you lit every year in his driveway on the fourth as the sigh from his nose hit your cheek. Body warm and sticky in a way that was usually reserved for Summer when his fingers skated over your jaw, up and around your ear, until they were cradling the back of your neck and pulling you closer. His mouth moved with yours in a way that could only be described as frantically graceful - needing more, hurried, hungry, but with the promise and precision of someone who knew what he was doing. It had your stomach dipping, like a freefall, like the greatest and scariest thing you’d ever felt.

If he’d have opened his eyes, he’d have found you with your hands suspended between your bodies though. Fingers not quite brave enough to reach up and get lost in his hair, but not content to just sit in your lap and do nothing either.

And if you'd opened your eyes, you’d have found his other hand gripping the center console like he was hanging on for dear life. ‘Cause holy shit was he trying to go slow, but kissing you was like chasing the last few minutes of sunlight in July - sweet and fleeting and magic - something you needed to make last, to soak up every last drop of until you couldn’t any more, not by choice, but because the sun has to set and he has to breathe.

In a shared gasp for air, you parted, but his lips were back on yours immediately, making your stomach swoop even more, like an entire family of butterflies had decided - hey, we live here now and we’re gonna make a ruckus so get used to it.

You didn’t mind.

Steve’s fingers found yours and without breaking his rhythm, he tugged, guiding them to his shoulders that were practically on your side of the console now, which wasn’t doing something great to his already somersaulting stomach.

He slowed down as your fingers brushed over and back on the collar of his shirt and his hands cradled both of your cheeks, pulling you off of his lips regretfully. You were both breathing like you’d run a marathon, his forehead pressed to yours as he gasped out, “Dizzy yet?”

“No,” you lied.

He grinned, tip of his nose tracing the bridge of yours as he admitted, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like that.”

You couldn’t even respond, couldn’t tell him you wanted that too, couldn’t tell him that it was something you only dared let a daydream or two convince you it could happen before you were shutting it down, cause he was still talking.

“And now that I have,” he swallowed, his thumbs glided down opposite sides of your neck as he shook his head, “I’m never stopping.”

Then he was kissing you again, and if you thought he was frantic before…

You had this feeling that even if those other guys had made out with you, kissing them wasn’t and never would be the same as kissing Steve Harrington.

Soon one of your feet was on the seat, the other bracing yourself in the footwell. He had a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck and yours were finally starting to dare to journey past their spot on his shoulders and then your skirt was caught on the gearshift and he was stopping you again.

“Honey, what are you doing?”

“So was that ‘never stopping’ just a nice sentiment or are you planning to back it up with action?” You huffed, distracted by pink lips that twisted into a crooked smile as he looked at your pretzeled body.

Your shoulders fell as you nodded your head towards his side of the car and admitted, “I just want to be closer.”

“Oh, right.” Steve swallowed, and you wondered if it’d be weird if you kissed every freckle and mole you could find on his throat. Something told you he wouldn’t mind when he asked, a little more eager than you’d heard tonight, “Backseat?”

And you clambered out of the car, the slowing rain soothing to heated and flushed skin under the mussed clothes, and then you were both meeting in the backseat, but the nerves returned. The way you both glanced at the space between you and were immediately and acutely aware of the lack of anything between you except doubt and fear. Was this a mistake? What about your friendship?

Steve looked at the space, at you, and then held up his finger in the symbol for one sec as he said, “Hold on,” and half climbed back into the front seat. His torso draped over the console as he loudly opened the glovebox and rummaged around inside, before he was fiddling with the radio, and falling back into the seat.

His cheeks pink, but his smile wide as he looked at you again. “Hey! I’m so glad we could do this tonight. You look beautiful. Ready to watch your favorite movie?”

“Wh-what?” You laughed, totally and utterly confused.

He tugged on your fingers, and pulled you to the middle, until you were slouched next to each other, shoulders touching as he shushed and said, “The Breakfast Club is starting.”

And the music playing over the radio,Simple Minds, a cassette he must have put in, had your chest swelling with something that was sure to burst and explode and kill you, because the boy was actually pretending you were on a couch, on a date, in a living room, watching a movie - it was perfectly Steve and you, and the best first date you’d ever been on.

His left hand picked up yours, resting it on your thigh and played with your fingers. The pads of his traced up and down and over your hand as he stared at the windshield, his temple resting against yours. The music played, and his fingertips swooped between the curves of each finger aimlessly, the sides of his fingers running down yours and back up making it really hard to concentrate on the non-existent flick.

When you finally relaxed into his side, when you flipped your hand over so he could draw little loop de loops on your palm, he quietly asked, “Who’s your favorite?”

“Brian,” said without hesitation.

Steve groaned, in pain, “Ugh, you would like him the best.”

You laughed, turning to look up at him a bit from where your head had fallen to his shoulder, “Don’t knock him Steve,” you spoke softly, fondly, “You’re a lot more of a dork like him than you think.”

Steve made a pft noise, fingers now interlaced with yours as he turned his head, the tip of his nose touching yours as he looked down at you with the sort of look the guys give the girls in the movies, one that should be illegal from the way it had that family of butterflies shouting about their presence again and fluttering around.

“Hey Steve?”

“Hmm?” He hummed, eyelashes fluttering as he sighed when your thumb brushed over his knuckles.

“This is a really great…first date?” You asked, hopeful that it wasn’t just an offer, that you weren’t some game, that the guy next to you was just as crazy about you as you were him.

“Yeah?” He smiled, proud, and then bragged, “Wait till the second one.”

It was your turn to hum, to look into his eyes and get a little lost as his mouth parted and you both scooted closer, waiting, as he squeezed your fingers wrapped around his.

“You’re making the ‘I’m about to kiss you face’ again, Steve,” you whispered, lips brushing his as you did.

“Right,” he whispered back, bottom lip catching yours as he suggested, “Which means you should probably stop talking again.”

This kiss wasn’t as easy and smooth, made difficult by grins of fools who were totally in love but wouldn’t admit it just yet, but how could you both not be after years together?

But you smoothed it out quickly, and soon he was swiping his tongue over your bottom lip as his hand gripped at your waist a little tightly. He traced over your top lip as your entire body turned towards his, like a plant in search of sunlight, his body on yours fundamental to your survival.

He gasped as you straddled him, your mouth swallowing the sound as his hands roamed up your sides, taking the hem of your shirt with it so his fingers could scrape at the skin just under your ribs before they dared to drift along the band of your bra.

You let out a sound that he’d never forget as long as he lived when you finally lowered yourself, skirt fanning over your laps so the sinful way he pressed up against your pristine soaked Calvin’s was slightly hidden. The unclip of your bra and the removal and toss over the seat was fluid, and you couldn’t think about it because the way his hand on your chest felt, the thumb over a pebbled nipple was something you’d only let yourself think about in moments of need before a date that wasn’t him.

Steve was wrong, the build up was more than half the fun.

The way his hands buzzed against your spine like the air after fireworks, the way his tongue brushed yours, the way he couldn’t help but guide your hips to rock against him. Denim hitting cotton in the exact right spot so the nerves underneath it got the friction they were aching for, while your mind ran away from you, thoughts about how this was just getting started. How there was more.

His lips left yours and his smile pressed to your jaw when the action got a soft whimper to fall from you. He tutted into your neck, lips grazing over an erratic pulse as he whispered, “Can I touch you?”

“Is that,” your breath hitched around the words as his tongue licked a thick stripe over your neck that extended, “Is that a part of making me dizzy or the more, when I’m sufficiently so?”

“You’re not yet?” His teeth scraped at where his tongue had just been. “I like when you say words like sufficiently, ‘s’hot.”

You laughed as his lips kissed the same spot, and then he was sucking, skin beneath his tongue warm and sending a message to your brain that you liked that a lot.

“Yeah,” you hiccuped, eyelids fluttering in their view of the car’s roof as you arched and his hands gripped your hips, “Yeah, touch me.”

He didn’t have to be told twice, arm around your waist holding you steady while the other traveled under the hem of your skirt. His mouth moved to below your ear and as his fingers glided up your thigh. He sucked and kissed, and sent that message to your brain again, having you say his name and god’s in the same desperate sentence.

Steve wasn’t gonna last much longer.

Especially when his fingers met the wet cotton and you moaned, so much filthier than he’d have thought possible. Especially when he circled over your clit through the fabric and you rolled your hips with the movement, far dirtier than he thought you were capable of.

“Fuck baby, you’re soaked.” He mouthed at the collar of your rucked up shirt, looking down at the way your hips rolled over his but he couldn’t quite see what was underneath.

You hid in the crook of his neck, hot, and you didn’t know if it was because the windows were fogged and Steve was so fucking good at this or because you were embarassed by how turned on you were from his next words.

“Please, I gotta,” he slipped a finger under the fabric and you shuddered as it ran down your slick and back up, “I gotta taste you. I need to put my mouth on you. Let me make you feel good, yeah?”

You were on your back, Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat, with Steve crouched between your thighs not even a minute later.

Thick fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt from his spot, blown out pupils taking over his stare up at you. One of your converse pushed to the other side of the car against the door as your fingers curled around the base of the sweating window above you.

Steve kissed your knee, and made his way higher between your legs slowly, until he was flipping your skirt up and swallowing as he stared at the space like it was a fucking artwork.

You giggled, nervously under the intense awestruck stare, squeezing your eyes shut as he strained to get out, “Fuck, honey, you’re trying to kill me.”

He was mesmerized, the way you clenched around nothing, his thumbs spreading you so he could see just how wet you were for him.

He was really not gonna last much longer. Straining in his jeans painfully like a teenager.

And that was before you whimpered, before you said:

“Steve, please.”

“Only,” he swallowed, leaning down so his breath hit your cunt in a way that had your hips wiggling, and him closing his eyes, “Only cause you asked so nicely.”

His thumbs held you open, massaging the sides as his tongue licked once, slow and broad, following the path of his nose up to your clit. He did it again, and again, and again. Until his fingers were slipping inside of you, pumping in and out of walls that held him tightly and his mouth sucked at your clit. Then you tugged, forcefully at the curls at the back of his head and practically screamed his name. Like it was full of only the best letters. Like it was yours.

Your stomach burned, the butterflies angry and in your chest now too, on fire, but happy about it. Steve’s fingers inside of you and mouth on your clit better than any orgasm you’d ever had, and you couldn’t help it when you came without warning, toes curling inside of your converse that kicked at the door and his thigh, while your fingers slipped on the window and your chest ached for a breath as it yelled his name in a way that the whole world would have to know how you felt when they heard it.

He didn’t pull away until you were gasping and your thighs were shaking and your fingers loosened in his hair. His cheek pressed to your thigh as he stared up at you and gasped out a proud, smug, “I’d like to see Bender of Brian do that.”

You laughed, tired, but happy, and he crawled up your body, kissing any part of it he could find while he ignored the uncomfortable wet patch in the front of his Levi’s.

Except you noticed and raised your eyebrows at it, a little smug yourself as you said, “Bet Claire couldn’t do that.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but then you were both flinching as a loud smack of something hit the back window. He glanced up and cursed under his breath, rolling down the window slightly as he called out from on top of you, “Hey, Hop.”

There was a loud, deep, sigh from outside as you both sat up with apologetic faces and Steve rolled down the window further.

Hopper’s cigarette smoke wafted in as he looked at the pair of you with a touch of surprise when he saw it was you next to Steve in the fogged up beemer. He shook his head, frown under the mustache forced. “It’s past eleven. On a weeknight. Have some decency and do this at home in front of a movie like normal people next time, yeah?”

You both nodded, your teeth pulling at your lip in a terrible attempt at not smiling.

He walked away, and you and Steve slapped hands over each other’s laughs and snorts, but you still managed to catch the quiet, “Bout damn time.”

And when Steve dropped you off at home, with a kiss to seal it all and a promise of a real date tomorrow that he’d pick you up for, you shoved the bunched up Calvin’s in his front pocket with your own promise, whispering in his ear the words “Sincerely, yours” before you left him with his mouth open on the front steps, watching you walk away.

#superbly subpars writing #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic

2K notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 28 days

Text

thank you so much for requesting @bradshawssugarbaby this is quite literally not at all what you asked for I'm so sorry 🫣🫣🫣🫣

Warnings: teasing, "denying orgasm", a twinge of a little "Mr. Harrington" kink if you squint | my blog is 18+

1335 words

“Steve.”

You were aware the way it came out sounded a lot like the word “More” instead of the attempt to remind him you should be working.

He hummed from the crook of your neck, lips molded around your pulse point while a hand tilted you open gently and the other ran up and down the inside of your thigh.

The same thigh that was draped over his lap, skirt pushed up it a little indecently for the activities you were supposed to be doing. There were notebooks and pens left open and blank on the coffee table. The snacks and a stack of VHS tapes next to them, a promise of a movie night to him as a reward, but all your brain could do was remind you to be relieved you put on the new Calvin's you got.

Your fingers clutched at the collar of his navy polo, pads slipping lower and toying with the little button as he pestered more kisses down your neck.

“We…oh,” you sighed when his tongue traced your collarbone and his fingers squeezed your inner thigh.

“We?” Steve murmured over the column of your throat, nose skating higher on your jaw as his thumb soothed circles over the back of your neck.

“We should be studying. The test is tomorrow.”

Shut up! College isn't important, what's important is what this boy is doing with his mouth!

“I am studying,” Steve spoke directly into your ear, low and raspy.

A shiver danced down your spine and right back up when the ghost of his smile against your skin lingered.

“Oh really?” You huffed, hand limply gesturing to the coffee table as the boy finally removed himself from your neck to meet your gaze, tips of your noses almost touching.

His eyes were bright with that sort of look that told you he was up to something and you were probably gonna really like it.

A cocky sort of smirk twisted up the corner of his lips, the one that lifted the two little freckles on his cheek and made the laugh lines around his eyes crease.

Fuck, should be illegal to look this cute.

“Mhm,” he nodded around the hum, nose tapping yours.

This time, you gestured a little more confidently, down towards your lap draped ungracefully over his.

“Please explain to me how this is studying, Harrington.”

Steve smiled, delighted you asked, falling directly into his trap.

It happened quickly, and with a loud ‘Oof' from you as he pulled you over his lap further, now straddling it.

“Let's start with math, yeah?” He grinned at you, cocking his head and raising his eyebrows confidently.

You held your breath as his hands squeezed your hips and roamed slowly up your body. His eyes tracked their movements, and you couldn't deny he was definitely focused. A look of determination in his eyes you'd never once seen directed towards a textbook.

“If Steve kisses his girlfriend once…” he whispered before leaning in and doing just that. Lips slotted against yours in one lingering press before they pulled away. His eyes remained on your mouth in a pout now, hands squeezing at your ribs when you leaned in for more.

His lips quirked up before he gave you one more, just as chaste and just as frustratingly cut off as he added, “And he gives her another one. How many kisses is that?”

“Three.”

Steve laughed, your scrunched up nose knocking his as you attempted to get your third one. He turned so your lips hit his cheek as he made a buzzer noise.

“Wrong. It's two, baby.”

Your fingers curled into the back of his hair, a huff hitting his jaw as you adjusted yourself on his lap lower. When wet cotton hit his denim covered bulge, you made a soft noise.

Steve's lips parted at the sound, his hands tracing your curves till they were back to your hips and he could watch the way you try to fight against his hold.

“How about some Science?” He asked, feigning nonchalance.

Steve slowly grinded your hips down against him, helping you roll them so the zipper on his Levi's could hit your clit in a way that had you gasping and clutching at his shoulders.

His voice comes out strained, but still amused, “Hypothesis: If we keep doing this, you'll come before I even get inside you.”

The sentence made you groan, forehead tapping his in defeat as he kept your hips rolling in a perfect rhythm.

“Steve” it really did come out like “More” that time.

“You're right,” he lets his smile when you groaned as he stopped you from moving. “Science is boring.”

His hands guided you down, back pressed to the couch so the silk of your skirt could glide higher up your thighs while he lowered his head between them.

His lips skimmed the inside of your thigh, brushing against it as he spoke, “Spelling more your subject?”

Your breath hitched as he pressed his nose into the damp cotton between your legs. His groan vibrated against you before he was moving over your clit in an odd shape.

Too focused on the feeling of finally getting some more friction against the throbbing nerves, you almost missed it when he asked, “What's that letter, honey?”

You gulped, hands tugging in his hair as he tutted softly, “Missed it? I'll do it again. Pay attention. There's a test later.”

He made the same movement, and your eyelids flutter as you gasped out, “M?”

He hummed his approval and pushed your thighs wider when they tried to close as he licked one long stripe up you. He waits until he hears your quiet whimper of the letter ‘I’.

Your hand clutched his shoulder, back arching off of the couch as a finger hooked your soaked underwear to the side. A barely there touch, the tip of his tongue, traced another letter. It started on the outside, skimming up skin, dragging through your slick diagonally, before it dragged up the other side.

“N.”

You practically moaned it, tugging on his shoulders, aching him to keep going, to get closer.

“So good baby,” he praised you, watching the way you fluttered around nothing. Then his thumb pushed into your clit and made long and hard brushes over it in the shape of the last letter.

Your stomach tightened, something in your chest ached as you said ‘E’, and Steve asked with a murmur against your thigh.

“What's that spell?”

“Mine,” you whimpered the word, fingers digging into his shoulders and desperate for more.

Steve kissed your clit, the nod of his head bumping his nose against it as he praised you again.

“Good job, you're gonna ace that test.”

And then he was sitting up, facing the coffee table and uncapping a pen.

You watched, your mouth dropped open in shock and annoyance as he ignored you. Your elbows propped you up as you asked, “Are you serious right now?”

Steve smirked, looking down at the page of his notebook and seeing not a goddamn thing as he shrugged.

“I'm always serious about studying, honey.”

You waited, sure he'd look up at you, break before you did, but when his pen scratched across the page your fingers curled into the couch cushion, until you realized you'd studied Steve just as much.

Lifting yourself back up to sitting slowly, you let the tips of your nails scratch up his thigh. As you leaned in to his profile, you let your nose bump his cheek as your fingers did the same to where he was painfully straining against his zipper.

You pouted, lips against his jaw.

“Are you going to give the test Mr. Harrington?”

Steve's pen twitched, missing the line on the paper as he swallowed, the ball not in his court anymore.

Your name came out of his lips in a whimper as you squeezed him through the denim.

It sounded an awful lot like the word “More”.

#superbly subpar steve spice #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #stranger thigns fanfiction #superbly subpars writing

587 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 6 months

Text

I Think I Only Want You, Under My Mistletoe:

modern!steve harrington x fem!reader

3.6k words

summary: Meeting The Harrington's, an office Christmas party, seeing Steve's big, hard d- Desk. Get your mind out of the gutter. // The prompts: [mistletoe] - a playful or romantic kiss under a mistletoe // [BEND OVER] - one muse bends the other over a table/couch/etc.

warnings: THIS HAS BIG SPOILERS FOR MY SERIES WE’LL CALL IT LOVE ( #a we’ll call it love blurb // we’ll call it love masterlist) - this blurb takes place only a few short weeks after the end of chapter 5: Getting Older, and before the Epilogue. | slight description of reader worrying about her appearance/comparison and anxiety about what people think of it | slight angst with Harrington parent disapproval and judgement | alcohol consumption | SMUT: semi-public (steve's office) teasing, calling Steve Mr. Harrington and sir, illusions to unprotected PIV intercourse

day 1 of 12 days of superbly subpar writing // requested by @palmtreesx3 - thank you for requesting and continuing to encourage WCIL nonsense. Hope you love it babe! 💛

Steve: You found a dress right? You: Nah, I was thinking I’d just show up in my period sweats and that sweatshirt with the stain on it. Steve: Honey, seriously, I need confirmation. You: 🙄 You: yes steve. I got a dress. Relax.

You tossed more popcorn in your mouth, trying to squash the nerves he wasn’t making any better by harassing you for the last week about the dress.

Like it wasn’t enough to have a boyfriend after swearing off love. The boyfriend you now had after confessing all dramatic and movie-like that you were falling for the guy despite thinking he was engaged. The engagement he called off because of you, much to his parents' fury. The parents you were going to meet at this party. The party at the office he had just put his notice in to quit, again because of you.

What was there to be nervous about?

The phone next to you lit up and Robin glanced at it, and you caught the name ‘Dingus’ as she cleared her throat and locked it. Her voice strained to sound nonchalant.

“Can I see what you’re wearing to the party tomorrow?”

An annoyed huff and strangled cry left your mouth. “That’s it! I’m not going! I’m not!”

You stomped to the kitchen and poured more of the white wine they brought as Nancy failed to cover her smile, coughing over her laugh.

Robin sat up on her knees, green clay mask beginning to harden on her face, so only her bright blue eyes could convey her feelings. “Just let us see it so we can tell him he has nothing to worry about and he can relax.”

Your head shook, laughing despite being unamused. “Does he think I don’t know how to dress myself? Does he think I’m gonna actually show up in something disgusting? Does he think-”

“You haven’t met the Harrington's.” Robin interrupts, her voice far more serious than you cared for.

Stomping off to the bathroom, you scrubbed the mask off your face, splashing cold water against your cheeks and tried to ignore the queasy feeling in your stomach. She’s right. You hadn’t met the Harrington's. You’d heard all about them, and you weren’t sure you’d like to meet them under normal circumstances, let alone these complicated, messy ones.

“Are you-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” You interrupted Robin’s call down the hallway, closing the door to your room and stared at the wine colored fabric with your arms crossed.

Slipping it on with resentment and nausea fluttering throughout your body, you ran your hands over the velvet material, tilting your head to the side in the mirror as you exhaled. Turning on your heel before you could find all the ways you hated the dress you once were confident about, you stepped out of the room. Nancy and Robin’s mouths dropped in tandem when you stepped into the light of the living room.

“What?” You squeaked, hands crossing and curling around your waist. “It’s bad? Is the slit okay? I thought…”

Robin started typing on her phone furiously and Nancy held up her hand as you trailed off, “You are so good. Furthest thing from bad. Don’t worry.”

Your shoulders released their tension, but the crease over your brows deepened as Robin smirked down at her phone. “What are you telling him?”

She hummed, “Don’t worry about it. Relax.”

Relax.

Easy for her to say.

You: steven. You did NOT send a limo. Steve: 🤷🏻‍♂️ You: you think you’re so cute, huh? Steve: I think *you* think I’m cute.

He clicked at his desktop more, glasses falling down the slope of his nose as he tried to finish work. He felt awful that not only were you nervous, but he was already here, you had to arrive alone, and he still hadn’t seen your dress. His phone vibrated and he looked down to see a picture of you, in the back of the limo, holding up an entire bottle of champagne just for you, and much to his dismay, a coat covering your dress.

You: you know what won’t be cute? When I down this entire bottle of champagne and puke from nerves all over your parents six thousand dollar shoes harrington Steve: they’ll buy new ones You: 🙄

He continued to work on his computer, people calling into his office and asking if he was coming downstairs to which he nodded and said soon to, until the lights started to turn off and it was just him. Hand running through his hair as he flipped back to his conversation with Robin last night.

Robin: DUDE Robin: You’re gonna go into cardiac arrest when you see her Steve: you’re not helping Robin: your mom will love her, you know she will Robin: Well, eventually. I did. Sort of. Steve: Again, NOT helping Robin: honestly your dad is gonna try to sleep with her Steve: you’re sick, you know that? Robin: The way she looks in this dress is sick steve Robin: ILLEGAL Robin: wow. You have wonderful taste in women Steve: YOU HAVE TO STOP

Despite already having been to Steve’s office, the sight of it tonight still has your jaw going slack. When the limo stops and the door opens for you, the vast and towering skyscraper shimmering with snow swirling around it seems more intimidating than ever. As you push into the warm lobby, the two story Christmas tree steals your breath further. Decorated in golds, silvers, and crimson, two staircases curling on either side of it.

You make your way up slowly, admiring the decor, hand gliding over the banister and reeling from the noise coming out of the transformed large ballroom. The space was used for a variety of events for the company, anywhere from big convention type conferences, parties, presentations and more. Steve had told you they’d put in a bar, a dance floor and stage, claiming this year’s Christmas party to be the biggest yet.

Lucky you.

The room overflows out into the hallway with loud chatter, a jazz band playing familiar holiday songs. Boisterous laughter exploding each time the doors open and close, no doubt louder and more easily flowing from the contents inside the glasses you can hear clinking together and the pops of corks.

You know you’re supposed to text Steve that you’re here, he said he’d come out and walk in with you, that he had been pulled in by his soon to be former boss. The thought of just going in by yourself is somehow easier though. Perhaps no one will even spare you a glance, not when you don’t have him next to you.

The room is even louder once you’re inside. The air smells like leather and cigars, champagne and scotch, stiff and overpowering floral perfume. It drips in luxury - mahogany tables, three Christmas trees, silver and gold candlesticks over burgundy table runners.

Your feet carry you inside cautiously, and you spot the bar on the other side of the room and head towards it, ignoring the heat of strangers' stares. Feeling like every woman around you is eyeing you from head to toe, their judgment pushing up their chins and noses, rolling their eyes. Their dresses far more expensive and their makeup and hair done professionally. This was worse than the first time you went to Steve’s apartment.

This was a big, big, massive mistake.

When you make it to the bar, you order champagne that you can see already being prepped, hoping it’s comped or on the lower end, mentally preparing yourself for Steve insisting he’ll pay for it despite the zeros. The sharp bubbles slip over your tongue as you try to sip it slowly, eyes roaming over the crowd in search of Steve.

“You look lost,” a deep voice comes from beside you.

Turning, you find a man in a three piece navy suit that costs more than your rent. His hand holds a glass with three fingers of amber liquid over ice, a silver watch on his wrist that glints. His other is deep in his pocket, his posture nonchalant and lazy yet oozing with the confidence of a man who knows what he wants and how to get it. His jawline is familiar, clean and sharp, leading to soft brown eyes that roam over your face. He has two freckles next to his ear, and dark brown hair that’s just starting to gray.

Your swallow is louder than the saxophone solo coming from the far end of the room as he removes his hand from his pocket, extends it to you, and says, “John.”

Fuck.

“Mr. Harrington, it’s so nice to meet you,” your voice is calm, hand shaking his firmly while the inside of you screams, alarms inside your brain going off, shouting abort, abort, abort!

His lips twitch in a far too familiar way and he cocks his head, “Now, how do you know me and I don’t know you?”

You’re certain that everyone in this room knows who John Harrington is, and he knows it too. You squash the nerves inside of you, taking a deep breath.

“Well, uh, Mr. Harrington-”

“Please, call me John.” He smiles, encouraging, and you nod, plastering on a bigger smile.

“Right, Jo-John. I’m-”

“Honey, you don’t recognize her?” A softer, sweeter voice comes up behind him and her warm smile makes a little bit of your nerves disappear. That is until she says your name, and then:

“This is Steve’s friend.”

Friend. Friend. Friend.

“Oh!” He snaps. “I forgot he decided to bring someone after all.”

Your lungs deflate, your stomach churns, you hear the way your heart cracks, chest aching from the pressure.

Steve’s mom sticks out her hand, “Vivian.”

Introducing yourself far less confident, voice barely a murmur, cracking as you push out, “It’s really nice to meet both of you.”

“So,” John has a cigar in his mouth now, patting at his pockets for a lighter, frowning when Vivian takes it from between his lips, but he continues, “What do you do?”

“Oh, um,” you take a larger gulp of champagne before finishing, “I’m an assistant right now. But I hope to-”

“I’m sorry, what?” John interrupts you, his brows furrowed. Mrs. Harrington’s hand squeezes his bicep sharply, a smile plastered on her face. But he keeps going, “An assistant? How old are you? Your parents can’t be thrilled with-”

“Dad.” His voice is ice, a protective hand on the small of your back, appearing out of nowhere.

You’ve heard Steve’s end of phone conversations with his dad, you’ve seen the way the people in this room acted just passing by him in the last few minutes, so you are shocked beyond belief when John Harrington closes his mouth at Steve’s singular warning.

Vivian’s smile relaxes, her voice warm and syrupy, “Hi honey.” She hugs him and he only returns the gesture with one arm, the other keeping a firm grip on your waist as she pulls away and smiles, “We were just getting to know your friend-”

“Girlfriend,” he corrects quickly, strong, and nods at the bartender. You watch as the man behind the wood bar grabs a bottle from the very top shelf, pours two fingers, neat unlike his father, and Steve grabs the drink he didn’t have to order. Despite the last few moments, the tone and action has your thighs pushing together and you clear your throat as Steve’s thumb swipes over your spine.

Vivian smiles, quietly correcting, “Right, girlfriend. She was just telling us what she does, right sweetheart?” Vivian pinches John’s arm again and he straightens, forcing a closed-lip smile. “So, an assistant, that’s…exciting?”

“I think we’re gonna go dance actually, we’ll talk to you later.” Steve’s voice leaves no room for argument.

He starts to pull you away and you call over your shoulder, “It was nice meeting you.”

Steve pulls you through the crowd, his shoulders tense and the scotch tipped to his lips in one sip. He sets the empty glass on a passing tray, grabbing your champagne flute from your fingers as well. He stops in the shadow of one of the trees, his hands finding both of yours as he turns.

“Honey, I think we have a real problem.”

Your heart and stomach drop even more, voice frail and small as you ask, “We do?”

He nods, face solemn, though his lips seem to be fighting a smile as sighs, “I’m afraid I can’t let you out of my sight all night in a dress like this.”

Relaxation floods over your veins, soothing your nerves as it feels like you finally exhale a breath you’ve been holding since last night. Still a little frazzled from the interaction, but a smile twitches your lips up slightly, forcing a light tone.

“It’s okay? Up to the Harrington standards despite the girl inside it failing miserably?”

Steve hums, leaning in close, spice and stinging scotch on his breath as his nose traces yours. “I think the dress and the girl surpass all Harrington standards. They rearrange the meaning of the word babe.”

Your eyes roll, but your shoulders hunch again, hands smoothing over the lapels of his tux. “That’s a nice sentiment Mr. Harrington, but I think your parents would disagree on the matter.”

Steve’s eyes flash at the use of Mr. Harrington and your eyebrows raise, curious if it’s the authority of the name or the potential of you being a missus, but he’s too quick for you to investigate, bold and something in his eyes hungry. “Fuck my parents and their obnoxious standards. Every other person in this room wants to be you or be inside of you.”

“Steve.” Your head ducks at the forward compliment, “God, how much of that scotch have you had already?”

“First glass.” His lips part, tongue licking over his top lip as he smirks, “I think you liked it though.”

“The comment or the way you ordered the drink?”

Steve, breathes into your lips as you tilt easily for him, mouth parting as he says, “Both.”

His hands press to your spine, a barely there kiss, when his name is called. He sighs, spinning to shake someone’s hand. The rest of the evening is spent with men clapping on his back and saying they’ll miss him. He holds your hand as he introduces you to co-workers he seems to genuinely like, flagging down servers and getting you glasses of champagne before they’re empty. Shushing you and kissing your temple when you ask how much it is. Maybe it’s the bubbles in your system, the pink flush to Steve’s cheeks when he stares at you, your name on his lips when he introduces you as his girlfriend, but the interaction with John and Vivian is long forgotten.

All you can think about now, is how tonight has shown you a side of Steve you hadn’t seen before, and he looks good. He holds his drink that keeps being refilled without being ordered, slipping bills in waiters hands almost imperceptibly, their quiet ‘thank you Mr. Harrington.’ even more so if you weren’t listening. His suit is tailored to his body nicely, pieces of his hair falling over his forehead when he laughs in a charming and confident way. Steve is also handsy, and has been since he pulled you away from his parents. Squeezing your hip, running up your spine in the keyhole along it, pads of his fingers following the straps that hang off your shoulders back and forth, back and forth. Each touch of his skin to yours sparking like frayed wires.

You excuse yourself quietly in the middle of a conversation about trading and something or other you can’t be bothered to listen to and Steve grabs your wrist, cocking his head in a silent question. You call out a little too loudly, maybe a little too flirty, “I’ll be right back, Mr. Harrington.”

The men around him smirk into their glasses and Steve watches you walk away, the color long gone from his eyes as his pupils take over. You feel the presence of his stare on your back as you make your way to the bar, only turning around when you have another glass in your hand.

Steve’s still across the room, and you watch the path his eyes take over your body, heat rising to the surface of your skin in their trail like he’s physically touching you. He tracks you as you make your way to the exit, starting on your ankle, up your calf, then thigh. You’re almost able to feel his fingers sliding over the velvet, tracing the slit that exposes the skin. The cinch of merlot fabric on your hips and the way his hands would pause there and squeeze. You take another sip as they travel over the curve of your sweetheart neckline that shows off maybe a little too much. Tracing the path his lips could take over the straps, up your collarbones and neck, and they finally meet your eyes.

His jaw is tight, tongue wetting his lips and gulping. His eyes narrow as you smile and you glance up at the familiar green holiday leaves hanging above the door, dropping your head and forming a fake pout.

It takes Steve less than thirty seconds to cross the room, the now empty glass on a tray as he passes yet again, freeing his hands to grab onto your waist as he leans in. You let your bottom lip slip between the two of his, teasing and innocent.

Steve groans as you bump the door open with your hip, letting your fingers linger on his chest, sighing, eyes wide, “Oh, I bet the view of the city is so beautiful on the 65th floor. You have a big, fancy office don’t you? Do you think I could see it, sir?”

He’s a man possessed. His mouth and hands haven’t stopped moving since the elevator closed. Clumsy lips and your name leaving him breathlessly as he pushed you into the railing as the floors climbed higher and higher.

“Look too good, illegal, she was right,” he mouthed at your neck, slipping lower into your cleavage enough to make you laugh.

“Wh-who was right?”

He growled something that sounded like Robin’s name which made you laugh harder, stopping only when his mouth found yours.

Steve shushed your giggles, leading you down the dark floor to the office at the corner, pulling the door closed and clicking the lock.

A brown leather couch, gold lamps, a bookshelf and a cart full of bottles of fancy liquors and sparkling glasses. A giant, wood desk with a tall leather chair. A name plate that glinted and said Steve Harrington with a pair of wire rimmed glasses.

You’d seen it before, but not on a night like tonight. Not with all the lights off, snow falling lazily across the skyline. Not with champagne in your system, not with your boyfriend. Your boyfriend who had confidence and charm, who commanded respect and attention. Who stood up to his parents for you, for what he wanted.

Steve stood behind you, hands on your hips again as he led you towards the desk. Sucking a bruise under your ear, tongue soothing the way his teeth scraped down your neck. He was wrecked, gone, could cum in his slacks right then and there with the view of you in his office in this dress. Would he miss being in charge at a place like this? Sure. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he was a boss.

His voice was strong, cinnamon and scotch on his breath as he commanded, “Bend over, baby.”

You laughed, arching over his desk slowly. Looking over your shoulder as you spread your legs and pouted, “Kind of bossy, Steve, not gonna even say please?”

Steve watched under heavy lids as you kept your gaze on his fingers moving over his buckle, the way your chest moved up and down quicker as he freed himself. He knelt behind you, pushing up the fabric of your dress. Kissing up your calves, your thighs, nipping at the curve of your ass and smirking when you yelped.

He stood, hands landing on the desk on either side of yours, mouth a ghost over your ear, heaving chest pressed along your spine, and his hard erection pressing into your ass.

“You think you’re cute, huh?”

A shiver ran through you at his tone, the way his breath hit your cheek and fingers overtook yours on the desk.

You gasped out, parroting your conversation earlier, “I think you think I’m cute, Harrington.”

Steve’s nose skimmed the curve of your ear, tutting, “No more mister already? Where’d your manners go baby?”

He slid his tip against your clit, circles to it until your head fell forward in a gasp, slick coating his cock with barely anything to prompt it.

Steve finally moved lower, his lips on your neck and his tip nudging at your entrance but pausing as he laughed, smirk pressed to your skin. “You are cute, though, honey. Prettiest,” he kissed your shoulder, “Sexiest,” a kiss below your ear, “Cutest thing here tonight.”

He kept his tip pressed to your entrance, waiting until your hips squirmed, till your fingers twitched below his. Breath warm on your jaw as he kept his voice even, confident, pulling himself back up to your clit and starting all over again as he spoke.

“Know what’s even cuter though?”

You whimpered, head empty, nerves buzzing, and stomach burning as his lips brushed against your jaw with each word, head circling your clit and tapping again.

“You’re about to be begging for me.”

#twelve days of superbly subpar writing #modern!steve harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #we'll call it love #a we'll call it love blurb #Spotify

481 notes · View notes