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geminimoonbeamx · 3 years ago

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She’s Got Bette Davis Eyes

A/N: I'm going to be real; I miss Steve’s loser in a sailor uniform era. I’m not sure how I feel about the return of King Steve but well. Don't even get me started how much I hated the forced throat fucking that is the Duffers trying to make Stancy a thing again. Despite all that, I’m happy to have our baby boy back.

Warnings: Smut. Road Head. Steve getting his shit verbally rocked.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Plus Size Reader

Summary: Steve Harrington has been on like, a hundred shitty dates this month alone. He really doesn't expect his date with you to be any different.

The movie the two of you had gone to see was garbage. Zombiethon. Literally as horrible as it sounds, you’d pushed for that new Demi Moore flick but Steve had become a bit of a movie connoisseur since working at the Family Video.

A bit of a douche too, but then like. Hadn't he always been one? You’re contemplating why you’d accepted the date at all while he pokes at his coke float with a straw. The diner is in full rage, loud enough that it drowns out any chance of conversation-

Steve’s corny pick up lines are lost to the hustle and bustle, drowned out by the jukebox and old team mates coming up to pay homage to the former King of Hawkins High himself.

You’d gotten ready for this. Like, really. Taken hours primping and priming. Your hair fell, practiced and shiny. Your lip gloss gleamed in the light. The denim skirt you wore was just on the right side of slutty. This worked for you, with guys- always. And still, it seemed like Steve wanted to be anywhere but sitting across the table from you-

And you? Yeah, you’re taking that pretty personally.

If he thinks he’s going to get a kiss at the door and a second date after this he’s dead wrong.

You let him ramble, about his dumb job and his dumb hair and his weekend trip to Indianapolis a month ago. All the while smiling, nodding, giving a quip and taking the cues.

You're more than happy when the check comes in the form of the older woman with a smokers cough. You're pulling out your purse before she’s even dropped it on the table.

“No, no, no. I invited you out, It’s my treat-” he pats at his pockets.

You ignore him, pulling the crisp twenty out of your wallet and handing it to the woman. Nora, her name tag reads. “Here you go, keep the change”

She smiles at you, before turning sharp eyes to Steve, muttering about how all the real men died in Nam’.

Your pounding pavement towards his car. Funny, all throughout high school you’d yearned to ride passenger in the maroon BMW, and now you weren't too sure you wanted to get in it at all. It wasn't that much of a walk, back you your house- why had you chosen these tall ass wedges?

“I had that tab, back there. You didn’t have to-” Steve starts the engine, sounding uneasy and unsure for the first time tonight and hah. Good. Misery loves company, and you’re the petty bitch that will enforce the fact.

“You snooze you lose”

“Uh-” He makes a face, confused as you play with his radio. If he wants to be a dick fine, but you refuse to do another awkward car ride filled with his shitty taste in music. Megadeth it is.

Your house is just outside of town, at least a thirty minute ride.

At five minutes in you decide what the hell. You turn the knob, metal fading “Quick quesh, why did you ask me out if you’re obviously not interested in dating anyone?”

“What? That’s not true. I date, all the time-”

“Ah, so just not interested in dating me. Like in particular”

“No, I wouldn't have asked you out if I wasnt interested in you. Dating you. Dating anyone”

“Can I share my theory with you? I mean I did let you explain the entire synopsis of Casablanca back there so like, my turn” You get comfortable in the leather seat, wiggling so that you're leaning bag against the door, directly facing him. He’s cute, that dumb little look on his face. The confused nod.

“So you haven't really been with anyone since Nancy Wheeler-

“Not true”

“Yeah you’ve dated like half the girls in this town. But boyfriend, girlfriend? Not since Wheeler. Suspicious? Kind of”

“It’s not suspicious, I just haven't been with anyone that I wanted to take that next step with” Steve defends himself, bristling a little bit. Fuck if your going to let this go. Who cares if he’s uncomfortable? This is the most fun you’ve had all night.

“Sure. It’s okay, I’ve done the hung up on the ex thing too- like for years. I just wish you would’ve told me” you shrug

“Told you what exactly?”

“That you weren't on the market for anything other than…physical relationships” you pick your brain for the right words.

His mouth gapes, open, snaps closed. Nose scrunches and well. “That's not something I really go around just advertising. Girls aren't into that”

“Aren't they?”’

“Are you?” He rebuts, doubtful. Hopeful, but mostly doubtful.

Bingo. Right on the money.

You bite your cheek, trying to contain your grin as you reach over the console, your hand on Steves denim clad thigh “I think as human beings, it’s kind of fucked up to deprive ourselves of touch. It’s one of the five main senses and all that. I mean, so you don't want to get married...that doesn't mean you can't get your dick wet”

Steve hisses as your fingers drag, right over his fly. “Y/N”-

“Shh, just keep driving. Don't you wanna have a little fun?” you massage his bulge and reach over, because fuck it. You're in this deep already. Rejection would sting but this date had already been horrible.

You aim for his stubbled cheek, but he turns his head last minute, his plump lips meeting yours. Fuck, this is the good stuff. The legendary stuff. High School mythology etched on the walls of the girls bathroom, whispered in reverence between friends. Steve tastes like mint, feels like sunshine. Uses the perfect amount of tongue.

You pull away after a moment. “Eyes on the road, hot stuff”

Now why did he take you to the worst movie of all time, when the two of you could’ve been doing this all night? Boys are so stupid. Even pretty rich ones with good hair.

You nose behind his ear, drag your lips down his throat as your fingers begin to work on his zipper, giggling when he swallows roughly.

“All this fun’s gonna get us killed”

“Come on, you're a great driver. Just focus, okay” you pull away, and his head leans, following without his permission. “Or do you want me to stop?”

You spear your bottom lip between your teeth, staring at him with big bright eyes. The shadows of your eyelashes dancing in the passing streetlights.

“That's killer, you know that? Not fair at all. If we end up in a ditch, it’s all your fault” He sighs, concedes, reaches down to lean his seat back.

“You worry too much. But wouldn't that be kind of rad? Death by road head. We’d have the coolest gravestones ever” You whisper wetly into his ear, tugging on the lobe with your lips.

He just shakes his head.

Turns out a thirty minute drive is more then enough to make Steve Harrington turn into a puddle of goo. His chest heaves and he white knuckles the steering wheel as you work him over.

It’s sloppy and crude, the squelching and gagging echoing around the car. His thighs shake and it takes everything to keep his eyes from crossing. He sneaks a peak, down at your bobbing head, at the way that your’e putting your all into it. Those little hurt sounds you keep making when the fat head catches the back of your throat, just right. He snaps his hips up, cruel. Needing to hear it just a little bit louder as you struggle.

He can’t do this.

“Y/N- fuck. Ease up-”

You double down.

Elm Drive

He makes a wide swerve of a turn before stomping on the breaks. Your house is just down at the end of the block.

When he comes , with a shout and his fistful of your hair, it's blinding. He feels like he’s been sucker punched in the gut, before his spine turns to liquid.

He’s wrecked.

And you? You’re fine. Just peachy as you pull off with a pop. Spit and cum smeared across the bottom of your face. He accepts the little peck you give him eagerly.

You’re wiping your face clean, reapplying your lip gloss and dabbing at the corners of your teary, mascara smudged eyes as Steve tries to come back down to earth, his chest still heaving embarrassingly when you seem so…composed.

He inches down the street, feeling a little high. He probably shouldn't be driving right now-

When he pulls in front of your house, porch light on and quaint, you instantly grab your bag. Ready to go.

“So I’ll um- call you? We should hang out again. Soon? Preferably”

You throw your head back and laugh, almost meanly “That’s going to be a no from me. This was the worst date I’ve ever been on. Like ever. Lose my number, Harrington”

You’re out of the car before he can wrap his head fully around what you’d said. No? What? The passenger door slams.

He’s pretty sure you’re going to leave him high and dry- take the steps up to the porch and call it a night. Instead, you freeze, contemplating for a moment. Your eyes scan the street, peeled for any sign of your neighbors before your wiggling your thick thighs, reaching up under your skirt.

“Something to think about. If you ever decide that you want to…take that next step” You grin leaning into his driver side window. Handing him the pair of baby blue panties. Still warm. Very much wet.

Steve poor dick jumps. “I’ll take it into consideration”

He can’t help but grin. That stupid look on his face the entire time he watches you walk the path, shut your front door behind you.

Steve had taken out no less than a dozen girls in the last few months, everyone leaving him feeling more unsatisfied than the last. He looks at the blue lacy fabric in his hands, and thinks yeah.

He’s pretty sure he owes you a second date.

Welp. This was filthy. If you're interested in reading a part two of this, let me know! I think these two could be really fun. Also, food for thought. My ask box is open.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x plus sized reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington

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