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whoyacallinyellow · 1 month

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To The Fallen

Charles Smith x F! reader

Spoilers: major RDR2 events Content: 18+ mdni, m/f smut, drunk sex, angst, tension, possessive, canon typical events / violence, possible unintentional spelling mistakes Type: second pov (wc - 3693) / pc: pinterest

Summary: After the gang’s downfall, you join Charles on his endeavors. While roughing it in the woods, you convince him to share a drink with you…

“C’mon Charles, live a little.”

You encouraged the man, sat upon a log as he tended to the small campfire you shared. He sighed at your relentless begging, gazing at you over the orange flames. Truly torn, he hated to turn you down, but your safety was more important than your idea of a good time.

“What if something happens?— besides, someone needs to take care of you.”

The man reasoned with your buzzed mind, gesturing towards the half empty glass you cradled on your knee.

Your eyes followed him as he joined you, carefully studying his every step before he sat next to you, tobacco leeching off his clothes and filling the air.

“It’ll be fine.” You reassured softly, watching him glance longingly into the flames once again. His eyes carried a certain sorrow that did not leave since Beaver Hollow. Apathy had stuck to Charles like a ball and chain, burying his friends was a pastime he did not favor, with Arthur being the final nail in the coffin.

After the fallout of the gang, the two of you spent your time roughing it in sticks, you reckoned somewhere between Canada and northern United States. You felt as if it were the smartest move to be as far away as possible, while Charles was a man who did not like running. He was fully aware the severity of his actions came with a big price— but he was willing to compromise for you.

Charles always seemed to know what to do, and where to go. He found refuge in your company and trust, the close bond you shared only flourished after being by your lonesome. The man wouldn’t want it any other way, sometimes pondering where he would be, or what he would be doing without you. The doubts he kept quiet and buried deep often resurfaced the moments he was reminded how sweet on you he was.

“You could use one.” You continued, placing a small hand on his knee with the attempt to break his trance. You so desperately wished to lend him a penny for a thought, but your attempts usually went nowhere.

The man huffed in defeat, encapsulating his hand over yours tenderly.

“Maybe just one.”

Charles reluctantly agreed, his words barely finished before you filled his unused glass with a much needed relaxation aid.

You scooted closer as a Canadian breeze whipped past, which made his grasp slip politely around you. The man’s arm alone somehow carried more warmth than any blanket could give you. Or perhaps it was the security he offered with each touch.

“Uh— to the fallen.”

You propose awkwardly, raising your glass lazily to the man who met you with a stupid smirk.

With your tipsy state being more than amusing to the outlaw, your words would be teased and mocked in the morning, in addition to gentle kisses as compensation— if you were lucky.

“To good health, my girl.”

He compromised huskily, his words presenting a much more giddy side which had been long erased with time. Charles lounged in the moment, the drink would allow a disconnect from his thoughts, unwilling to think about the gang under the grip of a bottle.

You took his offer with a small clink, the contents of his glass sloshing and spilling into yours.

Charles always knew you had his best interest in mind, the same he held for you. And with everything that happened in the past year, maybe he’s been too uptight and miserable. He reasoned that self reflection would come after a night of fun, maybe he did need this.

The night seemed to slip from his grasp after that point. His incoherent banter blew through the trees and vacant wilderness, undoubtedly scaring any animal or man for miles. Charles would often lean against you for temporary support, his hand sneaking through your inner thigh, and lingering for a moment to prop himself upright before continuing his casual slurs. The bottle loosened his tongue more than you expected, allowing him to exaggerate a memory or two.

You have not seen the man wear such a toothy grin since Sean was rescued, a celebration where he took the liberty of more than one drink. As you walked past the rowdy group by the fire, he would match Sean and Karen by pulling you onto his lap. A drunken stunt he would never dare pull sober in front of the others, denying every bit of the scandal once teased the day after. His leg would bounce effortlessly to the music beneath you, wobbling you tightly to his chest. All you could think about was the stubble of his chin digging into your shoulder, the way his fingertips treaded dangerously close to your waist—as if he was taunting you. His hard bulge you rested on would go unacknowledged by the man as he bounced his leg, but not you.

It was a sick game he played and perhaps enjoyed a little too much, testing your willpower for him every moment available.

Charles’ one ended up being your three, his glass being long retired in favor of the bottle, swaying between his fingers as he nursed it sporadically.

As the man went over the deep end you just spectated, you figured the least you could do was take care of him for one night, as he does for you every other. One night off was the very least he deserved.

“S’enough now, reckon you oughta sleep.”

Your words interrupted Charles, an unmistakable hum rattling through his chest. It hurts you how much the gang lived within the man, even while blackout drunk, Javier’s rhythms that played years ago flowed through him.

You arose stiffly to your feet, which the man unsteadily followed, his arms swaying and outstretched to recoup some balance.

The fire had died down along with his energy, Charles’ half-lidded eyes wandered, barely illuminating off the flame.

Your unexpected touch at the man’s nether region triggered his reflex with a stagger as you unclasped his taut gun belt. Relieving him of today's responsibilities.

“Oh hush,”

You murmured, your concentration ignoring his sudden silence.

Glancing up at the man who towered over you was now stiff as a board, arms hung by his sides as he stared back directly into your soul.

His lips parted ever so slightly, but nothing came out besides a sigh, the bottle dulling his expression, but emphasizing fervency.

All Charles could do was stare, his mind clouding over his better judgment— the thought of you seemed to do that often.

He remembered a particularly sunny day at Clemons Point, a job gone not to plan. You tended to the man’s wounds as he recovered in a cot. Your eyes heavy and looming over each part of his injured body, a sense of worship you held for his temple he simply did not. White bandages decorated his torso and bicep, a familiarity with his body and scars that only you held. The sacredness and safety your touch gave him made his pride not allow anyone else to see him in such a way, not that he would ever tell you.

You would not speak while focusing on him, not even to ask for an explanation of the wounds. But your vibrant presence would keep him company in the midst of your silence.

The feeling would eventually leave him as you wandered off, he would watch your figure lingering in the distance, pondering while gazing off the beautiful lands camp offered you. Your apprehensive mannerisms worried the man, which he mistook as forlornness. Charles would justify the scenarios, a double edged sword he deemed to be second nature— you knew what type of man he was.

You would bide your time against a nearby tree in eyeshot of the cot, ensuring his peace. But would return before too long, your eyes slightly uplifted in spirit. Once again presenting Charles with the same feeling he had before you left the tent.

Perched up on the barrel level with the cot, the back of your delicate hand would linger on his forehead before caressing down his scuffed cheek, the same touches his mother would give him as a boy.

Your silence was louder than any words you could have said, you loved him and he always knew.

—

“M’sorry.”

The man uttered after a needy kiss. Insincerity snuck upon his lips, unsure of what exactly he was apologizing for— was it to you? Or was it guilt of the broken man he’s become?— when exactly did he dismiss the morals he subscribed to?

Now laying in the tent you shared, your lust for him kept him far from his drunken mind, his pants you had undone tempted his desires over redemption. Charles somehow held no recollection of your hands working down there.

Once again your silence was louder than words, fingertips tracing gingerly over his bulge. Subtly begging him to give into his desires, give into you. Charles always had different plans for your first time together, but the past years haven’t been kind, making the time never right— he never once considered taking you while a drunken idiot.

But your body would soon be consumed by that very same desire, he would only leave your lips momentarily while clothes were kicked off.

The unsuitable lighting made the man rely on his hands, touches that were a test of how well he knew your body, by now considering it an extension of himself.

“Charles,”

His name deliciously exhaled from your lips at the slightest feel of him. Your voice saying his name in such a manner forever burnt a mark into his mind. You molded into every touch of his, which only encouraged his high. His calloused fingertips ran from your hip bones to your breasts, touching the off guard parts of you to everyone but him.

“Yeah?”

Charles eventually answered, his gruff voice lowly exiting his chest with an unforeseen force.

Stroking himself, the man positioned at your entrance, his tip preparing you extensively. Charles’ neck craned back as pleasure began to soar through him, a sharp sigh being exerted at the slightest feel of himself in you.

“Think you can take me?”

Less of a question, the man wondered out loud through a slur. The syllables lazily slid off his tongue as he teased his head back and forth through your heat. His jaw had gone slack from a combination of ecstasy and concentration, your wetness and anticipation only grew with each of his strokes.

He hoped to get more noise from you. So desperately wanting you to be loud for him, no camp, no one to worry about— just you. You were his one and only focus, as it should have been from the start.

Your silence was temporary, captivated by your lover teasing you between your legs.

“Go on then,”

Your voice came out as a pitiful whine, a beg of yours he would not take lightly.

The large man hummed through his amusement and pleasure, his hands covering every area of skin he could on you. Scooting you closer to his preference came with ease, his pull on your hips united your thighs to his. With how light and sweet Charles’ casual touches were, you sometimes forgot how strong the man really was.

“Charles!”

Your frustrated moan was music to his ears, it broke through the man’s clouded brain like the sound of a gunshot. A distracted hand was still placed on the base of his cock, threading it through your lips in awe.

“Okay— ok, sweet girl, don’t know if I’ll fit s’all.”

He contemplated out loud, his voice remained low and primal, glossed over drunken eyes lustfully staring into yours, a hint of playfulness being held within the brown wells.

It was the same look they held the day of your hunting trip for Mr. Pearson. You insisted on joining Charles, less to assist and more to loiter and encourage the man. A simple and innocent request he would never refuse. You held onto his torso as he rode Taima, to his dismay your hands would wander further, and further down, until resting prettily on either side of his groin. You would see the man headbob towards the saddle, infatuated with both your boldness and touch— needless to say, you both returned to camp empty handed that day.

—

The wind that rippled through the tent canvas sent chills through your bones, your naked frame being consumed by goosebumps which the man took humor in. His rough fingertips wasted no time fiddling with your nipples before covering you with his body. Finally exchanging his body heat with yours that would not be needed for long.

Now fixated on your upper body, it did not take him long to cover you in his hungry mouth, his shaft still grinding against your lips as he eagerly thrusted, barely touching your entrance with each movement.

Taking matters into your own hands, your patience grew thin, reaching down and directing the man where you needed him.

The abrupt contact caused spots to flood in vision, Charles’ pleasure and whiskey filling his palette in a way he did not know possible. A part of him wasn’t sure if he would be able to stop after taking you, afraid he would accidentally hurt you in his drunken stupor. His lack of control over his dire state only showed the desperateness Charles usually hid from you.

Your fingers laced around the man’s bare chest, little nothings you would mumble as you took his length. Charles still doesn’t know what got into him, all the pent up desire for you finally being spent with a slow and powerful thrust that swooped to your core. Despite his eagerness and your moans, he somehow mustered up enough composure to allow you to get used to his size.

“So tight for me,”

Was all the man grunted through his drunken lust, he thought you took his size so well for him, almost as if you were made for him as a lover.

Your fingernails that dragged along his back earned you some groans and abrupt movements that were particularly passionate.

Hearing him in such a worked up manner only made you tighter around him. It was enough to nearly make the man lightheaded as pleasure roamed throughout the tent.

Words weren’t needed for Charles to understand that your desperation was mutual to his. Your walls continued to grow wet and clench around him with every adjustment and word of his, making a mess of the bedrolls beneath you both.

“You should’ve took me that night— at Shady Belle.”

Your unsteady words momentarily stopped the man in his tracks. His body frozen atop of yours as he mentally mapped out just how long you’ve been wanting him this way.

Charles remembered the look you gave him as he peeled off the layers of his bank heist clothing, gun belt falling to his ankles with a clank. He was the only man to return from Saint Denis that night. You followed him around camp like a lost dog, eyes glued to him, silently begging for an ounce of him. You always knew if any man were to return from a botched heist, it would be Charles Smith.

Your need for him then would go unfulfilled, his large hands lingered lovingly on your waist everytime he rushed past you to assist what was left of the gang, as if he silently acknowledged your desperation. Charles always carried that sense of urgency and composure you did not— he was the last man with a lick of leadership, afterall.

You wore a similar look now, needy and willing.

A lazy chuckle filled the tent before he planted a sloppy kiss on your lips, feeling your breath quiver against him was a reminder to continue.

“Should’ve said, my girl.”

Charles rebutted simply, allowing your moans to once again fill his ears as he moved swiftly but rhythmically.

After all this time Charles knew what kind of lover he wanted to be for you, in his mind he earned you and your desire to be with him in such a way. Which meant you deserved to experience your importance and much more.

Sensual and with purpose—at least for the first time. Each of his actions would show how much you meant to him. Charles thought about it more than he would like to admit, the days you would patch him up only encouraged the back door thoughts of showering your body in his devotion, your lingering touch merely drove those thoughts further.

But the whiskey consumed his prior plans of reverence, only to reveal how badly he needed this— how badly he needed you.

Every last bit of his self-control was thrown out the tent along with your clothes, discarded in the dirt by the fire.

His hands gripping whatever skin of yours he could, small marks of his fingertips peppered on you, further demonstrating the long overdue tension he held prior to taking you.

Lips and tongue that traveled on your breasts occasionally came with teeth, his excitement winning and the principals he usually held washed away with the prior drinks you shared.

These marks the man would notice in the morning, guilt and embarrassment surging through him while planting soft kisses upon the possessive marks— Did he hurt you? Was he too rough?— Was he foolish?— he doesn’t remember, his head hurts. Your words of praise would feel just as genuine as it did the night prior, reassuring the man you enjoyed him just fine.

Your touch ghosted down his chest and to his bucking hips, tracing the muscles that flexed with each thrust. Both of your thighs now sopping, Charles let out a low moan, his stomach knotting and quivering under your spell. He guided your hands back up, not wanting to reach his peak quite yet, and your excessive touch would overstimulate him to that point.

“Easy now.”

Charles whispered, his voice gravelly and hoarse, a vague warning which slipped from his lips as smooth as the booze went down. The man knew you were close under his control, and how malleable you were only drove him closer to the edge.

His braided hair had gracefully come undone from the intimacy, loose strands both dangling over your bare skin and sticking to his shoulders.

Your body quivered beneath him, sensing your climax was near with excessive moans and breaths you gave him. Hearing you moan his name fully unleashed would replay in his mind for days to come, your pretty lips trembling was a sight for sore eyes. Hoisting himself back to his knees, his bottom lip slid between his teeth, rubbing your clit while he admired how you gripped his cock. So trusting, so excited, so wet, and it was all for him?

His thrusts became more attentive, each one pressing and lingering deep within you, his back arching to meet your pelvis, ensuring no part of his length went neglected.

If Charles didn’t know any better, he would have lingered in you a moment longer before finishing, basking in the pleasure your high presented him with. The same high he has been subconsciously chasing since Clemons Point. But instead his shaft planted onto your stomach as he climaxed, animalistic groans exiting the man as he marked you.

Your lover’s chest heaved, lingering momentarily as he finished. Both soaked and relieved, he weakly lowered for yet another soft kiss. His necklace and hair tickling your collarbone as he recovered from his high.

The mind fog prevented any sort of disruption of his focus on you. Charles studied your torso as you recovered yourself, the small faded scar he stitched up for you back in Colter now glistened under his love for you, it seemed so long ago to the man. He never once thought in this lifetime the girl he saved from a seemingly fatal stomach wound would be the same stomach covered in his seed.

“‘Look real sweet like that.”

He hummed, pride and satisfaction littering his tone. His voice rumbled in his chest, presenting signs of sobering up after his chase.

“Oh?” Your lips formed into an amused grin, staring at your tired lover laying beside you, his toned figure barely visible in the tent besides the glossy formations of sweat beading down his chest. His dark eyes still hooked onto the mess he created on you.

“Real sweet.”

The man affirmed gently, figuring he would put you out of your misery and clean you off.

How whipped was Charles? He could not tell. Every kiss you would give him later that night threw him over the moon. Your fingertips soothingly outlined the scar on his jaw as he held you tightly, your frame curled within his, thighs that pressed against him unknowingly gave him a certain friction that begged him for another round.

But he decided you needed the rest, as he felt there would be more where tonight came from. He would make it up to you then.

The embers cracked in front of your tent, with the trees swaying the distance, the white noise was enough to lull you to a slumber. But the man forced himself awake just moments longer to experience you. Relishing in a feeling he never wanted to leave him. Charles wished the night lasted a little longer, as he did with most good things he was fortunate enough to have come his way. He always wondered what he did to deserve those things, especially with all the sins under his belt.

He felt as if he were sinking, or spinning, maybe it was spinning, his fingertips tapped rhythmically down your spine in his subconscious state, gaining your attention.

“Sleep with me.”

You cooed against his chest, words he could barely make out from your state of delirium.

The man kissed your forehead in response, his mind that tried running off into the night was anchored back to you. Like most things were.

Your wish was Charles' command, and he knew it would be the beginning of many more.

#charles smith #charles smith x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr x reader #rdr smut #rdr2 headcanons #idk if i like it #maybe ooc????#no one will get the title reference and im SCREAMING its so stupid lmao I cant stand myself

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hawkins-losers · 2 years

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Meet me in the pale moonlight | Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: You and Steve go late night swimming in his pool...not a lot of swimming happens

Word count: 1.6k

Warning: smut, pool sex, unprotected sex,

Request: Steve and swimming pool with the prompts 24 and 38 please :) (“If I kiss you right now, I’m not going to be able to stop.” + “I won’t apologize for marking you. Everyone should know you’re taken.”)

‘’I say we go swimming.’’

‘’I say it’s October and I don’t want my tits to freeze. Let’s watch a movie. Do you have popcorn?’’ You walked to the Harringtons’ kitchen to check the pantry.

‘’Perks of having rich folks, our pool is heated,’’ Steve said, hot on your heels. ‘’And, if they start to numb, I can warm them up.’’ He grabbed you from behind and slipped a hand under your shirt, making you squeak when he grabbed your boob through your bra.

‘’Steve!’’ A giggle escaped your lips.

His parents were on a business trip, which meant you were having a sleepover. A year ago, Steve would’ve invited Tommy or hosted a party, but now he’d rather spend his weekend with you.

You turned in his hold to face him. ‘’I don’t have my bathing suit.’’

‘’Has that ever stopped you?’’

You shook your head, remembering all the times you and him went skinny dipping in his pool during summer. Or jumped in Lover’s lake in your underwears.

‘’Alright. One condition: we’re watching a movie after and we’re making sundaes.’’

‘’Deal.’’ An excited grin spread on Steve’s lips. ‘’I’ll fetch us towels.’’

Outside, the chilly October night hit your skin the second you stepped you, raising goosebumps on your arms. If you were cold now, you didn’t want to think how cold you’ll be when clothes start coming off.

The large backyard was only lit by small garden lights along the fence. The once beautiful flowers littering the garden were now dead and their leaves had a yellow tone. In the middle, the heated up pool was making the cold air around them turn into a fog.

Steve turned on the pool lights, making you smile.

You both peeled your clothes off and set them on a lounge chair.

Beside you, Steve groaned, his eyes falling on your small underwear. ‘’Are you trying to kill me with that thing? Your whole ass was out.’’

You smiled mischievously. You had put those underwear on with the intention of surprising him in bed.

‘’Too bad the matching bra is in my room. This one kind of ruins the whole sexy vibe.’’

That’s where it went! You had spent half an hour looking for it.

You felt Steve's eyes on you, devouring you as he bit his bottom lip. Although he had said that, your mismatched bra didn't make you less sexy to his eyes. He still wanted to trail his tongue on your full breasts and lay you down with your legs spread.

An idea struck your thoughts, and you reached behind your back to unhook the clasps of your bra, then slipped the straps off your shoulders and arms. You threw the garment on the lounge chair with your other clothes. ‘’Is that better?’’

If you were in a cartoon, Steve’s eyes would be two massive hearts. ‘’Fuck, I love you.’’

A chill traveled through your whole body, feeling your nipples get hard from the cold air.

Steve noticed and broke his staring. ‘’Let’s get in the pool before you catch a cold.’’

The water was in fact warmer than you thought. You swam away on your back, smiling at the feeling of water on your skin. Above you, the moon was high in the sky, shining bright.

You heard the water swish as Steve wadded towards you. He pulled you against him and kissed your glistening shoulder.

You heard the water swish behind you as Steve wadded towards you. His arms snaked around you, pulling you against him. He kissed your glistening shoulder, and you leaned against his chest, bathing in the moonlight glow.

''This feels nice, isn't it?''

You hummed in response, allowing yourself to relax as your felt lips kissing up your neck and behind your ear. There was no intention behind these kisses, they were just sweet and loving. A touch of pure affection and tenderness.

Steve kept going, trailing his kisses up your jawline, dangerously close to your lips. You thought he was going to kiss you, but he didn't.

''Kiss me.''

He shook his head, kissing the junction of your neck and shoulder. “If I kiss you right now, I’m not going to be able to stop. Your ass is way too close to my dick right now.”

You covered your mouth to muffle your laugh, then turned in his arms.

Your hands drew down into the water to slide across the hard planes of his chest, nails scratching softly against his nipples and making him whine softly, then drawing back up to wrap around his neck. Your fingers played with his hair at the base of his neck, feeling it getting longer every week.

‘’What if I don’t want you to stop?’’ you murmured, your mouth very close to his.

Steve gulped, his throat bobbing, and raised an eyebrow. ‘’You mean you want to…in the pool?’’

You nodded. ‘’In the pool.’’

Steve broke into a dark grin, his hands at your waist tightening.

You had to be very quiet because sounds travel a lot easier at night.

His fingers nudged your panties aside, easily slipping one through your folds. Steve caught your lips in a soft kiss, swallowing your moans. ‘’Can’t have my neighbors know what we're up to. Mr. Donnovan might come out on his balcony and play peeping Tom.’’

It took you a moment to figure out how you were going to do this, slipping and injuring yourself - or drowning - not being in your Friday night plans.

In the end, you wrapped your legs around Steve, your breasts pressing against his chest while he pushed down his briefs and pulled himself out, condom be damned. He was already rock hard and leaking. He flicked his eyes to you, then pressed the tip of his dick against your folds. Your walls clenched slightly, and Steve had to hold back from groaning.

He gripped your waist and pushed in all the way, making you dig your fingernails in his shoulders, feeling some stretching and slight pain. Things were a lot less slippery and easy in the water.

‘’You alright?’’ Steve asked, always so caring, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin.

You clenched your teeth, then nodded. ‘’Just, give me a moment.’’

Steve nodded and kissed your jaw down to your neck, trying to relax you and let your body adjust. You felt him nipping at your skin, which will likely leave a mark behind.

Soon enough, you began rolling your hips, making small movements. You felt the water of the pool lapping and swishing around you at your movements, lulling you into a bubble of intimacy. Your thighs clamped around Steve's waist as you picked up the pace, your ankles tightly knotted behind his back, loving the way he filled you so completely and perfectly.

Steve groaned, feeling you tighten around him. His eyes flicked to yours and you nodded, signaling for him to move. He lowered his hands to grip your hips and gave you a small but sharp thrust. You gasped in response, causing your core to quiver ever so slightly on Steve's dick, making him grunt.

‘’Let’s take this to the edge of the pool. Wouldn’t want us to slip,’’ Steve decided for safety measures.

Carefully, he moved you to the edge of the pool, caging you in and pressing you into the pool wall. With the new support, he hooked his arms beneath your knees, pushing them towards the wall, stretching you out and making you moan openly.

He quickly realized his mistake, covering your lips with his, swallowing your moans, making you want to moan out even more. Outdoor sex, when you’re a little too vocal, may not be the greatest idea.

Steve was driving into you thrust after thrust, grinding and pushing into you so slowly. These slow thrusts were driving you insane. You liked slow and sensual, but right now, you needed him to pound into you.

‘’Pick up the pace, Harrington, or I'm going to snooze.’’

A laugh rumbled through Steve’s chest and his thrusts began growing faster, harder, more urgent; no longer the slow grind he had started out with.

‘‘Yes.’’

Your hands grasp at his neck, your nails digging into his skin and fisting your fingers in his hair, tugging hard as water sloshed around you, splashing on the concrete deck.

Steve kept his pace going, breathing hard and alternating between grunts and moans. Since his hands were busy supporting you, you brought yours down between your bodies, teasing and circling your clit with your index, feeling your climax build.

‘‘Keep going, baby, I’m close,’‘ you warned, your core tightening.

Three thrusts later, you felt your body become taut as the orgasm broke through, your toes curling and your thighs tightening around Steve's waist, shuddering in pleasure. Your nails dug into Steve’s skin, creating crescent moon shapes in his shoulders as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

A loud moan ripped through you and he captured your mouth with his own, swallowing your sounds of pleasure while your walls squeezed him tight, bringing him to climax and spilling inside you.

Once your heartbeats had slowed down, Steve pulled out, the mix of chlorure with the fresh marks on his shoulders making it sting. ‘’Did you really have to go all Freddy Krueger on me?’’

You laughed tiredly, your arms still around Steve’s neck as he kept you both standing in the water. ‘’I won’t apologize for marking you. Everyone should know you’re taken.’’

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#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things s4 #stranger things #steve stranger things #this took way too long to write #idk if I like it

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