πππππππ: boyfriend!steve harrington x fem!reader
πππππππ: When your lover's spat with Steve leads to a cold war in the WSQK booth, Robin decides she's had enough and leaves you two alone to work it out. You refuse to say a word to him even when she's gone, but Steve has his ways of getting you to talk.
ππππ/ππππππππ: 18+, smut (mdni), porn no plot, no use of y/n, established relationship, make-up sex, fingering, thigh riding, unprotected piv, cre*mpie, praise, soft dom!steve, semi-public sex, accidental exhibitionism (?)
ππππ πππππ: 3k
π/π: hello! i have two other wips i should be working on but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. hope u like it xoxo
It started with something stupid. An empty Coke can left on the counter that spiraled into an argument way bigger than it should've been. Names were called. Doors were slammed. It didn't help that your AC unit crapped out right in the middle of a heatwave either, leaving you both sweltering before you'd even stepped out of your shared apartment.
By the time you two make it to the station, you're already giving each other the silent treatment.
You storm inside first, leaving him in the dust as you bolt for the coffeemaker. He lumbers in after, scowl on his face, hair wrecked by the humidity.
It's easy enough to avoid each other before the broadcast, but once you're forced into the booth together, you drop into the swivel chair without a word. Your body angled away from him toward the console.
Robin lasts until lunch before she finally says something.
"Okay! So I'm gonna go." She stands, shooting a look between the two of you. "Whatever this is, please fix it. Or at least⦠try not to stare each other to death while I'm gone."
When neither of you respond, she just backs out slowly, nearly tripping over her own feet before the door creaks shut behind her.
The booth is deathly quiet when she leaves. Which is ironic, because you're pretty sure you've been in actual morgues with more noise than this vacuum that's formed between the two of you. But you don't look up. Not when you hear him let out a dramatic sigh, or when he snaps a cassette case louder than necessary.
No. You let him pout, giving him nothing while keeping your eyes glued to the playlist sheet on the desk. Crossing your legs and bobbing your ankle up and down. Letting your pleated skirt hike just a little bit higher up your thigh.
You aren't the least bit surprised when you hear the tapes stop clattering.
There's another beat of quiet before his foot nudges the leg of your chair. You don't move. So he does it again.
Finally, you turnβslowβand give him a look.
His mouth quirks. "You gonna ignore me all day?"
You frown, ignoring him while you flip a page.
"Wow," he scoffs. "You know, I was gonna apologize, but with this attitudeβ"
"Apologize, then," you interrupt. Calling his bluff.
He sits back and crosses his arms. "Well, look at that. She speaks."
"Look at that," you echo, turning back to the console. "He listens. For once."
You hear movement, then his hand is on the back of your chair before you even realize he's gotten up. The room blurs as he spins you back, planting both hands on the armrests once you're facing him again.
You stare stubbornly at the wall over his shoulder. Arms folded over your chest. Steve sighs and takes a seat in front of you, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
"I was saving it for the recycling, okay?"
You huff. "Then why was it in the middle of the counter?"
"I told you, I didn't want to forget!"
You shake your head, still refusing to meet his gaze.
"β¦Fine," he mumbles. "I'm sorryβ¦ alright?"
You arch a brow. "For?"
"For being a dick," he mutters, sliding a hand over his neck. "Andβ¦"
He leaves the sentence hanging half-finished. You tilt your head, waiting, but Steve doesn't look up. His gaze is stuck below your waist, where the hem of your skirt has ridden up even higher, fanning in a pretty arc across your legs. He swallows audibly and leans in closer.
It happens slow, his hand wedging between your thighs to grip the base of your seat. Your breath stutters as he tugs you forward, the stool skidding across the floor.
You finally look at him. No other choice really, with your faces inches apart like this. But where you expect to find him smiling or smug at having flustered you, instead his gaze is just⦠dark. His eyes heavy and locked with yours. Beneath the light, you catch the faintest sheen of sweat across his cheeks, fresh and dewy on his skin.
Warmth pulses between your legs in a way that's practically Pavlovian at this point. Because you know what it means when he gets this look. Where it always leads. You swallow a little as the woodsy scent of his aftershave reaches your nose, your fury fading fast into a different kind of heat that sits warm and low in your stomach.
Steve shifts then, your knees bumping together. He slides one of his forward between your thighs, slotting you two together and pulling you close.
"You wore this on purpose," he breathes low into your ear. You shiver as he brushes your hair back over your shoulder, his knuckles grazing the soft skin just beneath the hem of your skirt.
You exhale slowly. You did wear it on purpose. Something takes over him every time you wear this fucking thing, which is why you'd put it on in the first place this morning, a flirty little tilt to your hips. Five hours ago, you figured you two could sneak into the closet, or out to his car on your lunch break, maybe tease him with it until you had a chance to be properly alone.
But then you'd gotten into that fight, and you kept it on out of spite. You knew it would drive him crazy, having to see you in it and be forced to keep his hands to himself.
Only his hands were already disappearing beneath it.
"Steve," you breathe against his neck, barely pretending. "We're at work."
He noses the soft spot beneath your ear. "No one's here."
"The walls are glass."
"We'll be quick," he promises.
You're about to argue, but the gentle, warm press of his tongue over your pulse rips the protest from your lips. You melt, your eyes closing with a quiet sigh of surrender, and he groans into your skin at the salty taste of you, one hand snaking up into your hair to hold you in place while the other coaxes your knees apart.
"What if Rob comes back?" you whisper, already short of breath.
"She won't. She literally just left." His lips graze your forehead. "Now c'mere⦠let me apologize."
He curls a hand under your knee, tugging you toward him those last few inches. You let him guide you to the edge of the seat, until your chin's hooked over his shoulder and you lose sight of what his other hand's doing. You sigh into his hair when you feel his palm finally disappear between your legs.
He gives a testing little press against you, smiling to himself at the quiet noise you make for him.
"Yeah, baby. That's it," he whispers, his breath hot against your temple while he cups you more firmly. You gasp and clutch onto his sleeve, the contact making the damp spot on your panties bloom out even further at the edges.
"Oh, honey," he soothes, his free hand still cupping the back of your head. "Look at you. All worked up already."
You huff over his shoulder, even as your hips curl forward on their own, seeking the heel of his palm.
"I'm still mad at you," you mumble into his neck.
He hums, thumbing your panties to the side in a slow arc. "Yeah? You gonna let me fix it?"
Without waiting for your answer, he parts you gently down the middle. Your gasp is sharp against his shoulder, and he hushes you softly, groaning at the way you're already coating his fingers as he traces your slit.
"Fuck, baby," he breathes, his voice rough now.
He slides right through you, nice and easy. His thumb brushes through your curls before dipping down to circle you where you're softest. You muffle a whimper into his shirt and feel his grip tighten on the back of your neck.
"There?" he whispers, mouth pressed to your hair.
You nod breathlessly, panting now and barely able to hear him. He sucks softly beneath your ear and starts working that sweet spot, pulling more broken sounds out of you as you spiral quickly toward the edge.
Your hips shift forward again, thighs weak and shaking. You're nearly there, whining and clenching around nothing, when you thrust too far and start to slip off the edge of the seat.
"Shitβ" you gasp.
Steve catches you before you can fall. His arm hooks around your waist, lifting you up like it's nothing. Your hands automatically find his shoulders as he hikes you up onto his thigh, your skirt settling even higher around your hips while you straddle him. He wets his lips when your bare skin presses against his jeans, the heat between your legs making his pants go tight around his hardening cock.
"Easy," he murmurs, sliding a hand up your back to steady you. "You okay?"
"Yeah," you breathe out, a little embarrassed. A pretty flush warms your cheeks as he brushes back a curtain of hair that's fallen in your face. He gives you a big, breathy smile that makes your heart burst wide open.
"Okay," he pants, glancing around to check that the station's still empty. With no sign of Robin, he plants a soft peck on your cheek and lets his hand drop to your hip. "Ready?"
You nod, your thighs squeezing around him as he rocks you forward, guiding you to grind against his leg. Your head tips back with a moan just from the friction of it.
"Steveβ"
"I know," he mumbles, dipping down to suck at your collarbone as you writhe on him. "Use me, baby. It's okay."
You bite your lip, rolling your hips shamelessly now as you chase the pressure. The orgasm you lost starts building again. You feel it coiling deep in your belly, but it's not nearly enough to get you off just riding him like this.
He tries to help, tugging one of the buttons free on your shirt and mouthing gently at the swell of your breast. You moan, fingers sinking into his hair and keeping him there while your knee lifts high enough to brush at the bulge between his legs. Steve buries a groan between your tits, his hips bucking up before he can stop himself.
"Fuck," he grits out, forehead dropping to your chest. "That's not fair."
You smile into his hair and do it again, dragging your thigh slow and careful just beneath the heft of his balls. His head snaps back, tendons straining in his neck as a strangled moan rips from his throat.
"Babe, fuckβ" he chokes out. "I'm serious. I'm gonna come in my fucking pants if you keep doing that."
Your hand drops between your bodies, finding his belt buckle by feel as you hold his gaze.
"Need you," you pant against his cheek, unlatching him. His head falls back against the chair as you work the button open next, then the zipper. He's rock hard by the time you're peeling the denim apart, a damp patch already darkening the fabric of his boxers.
Steve watches you with glazed eyes.
"Here?" he rasps, like he wasn't the one that started this.
Your answer is a hard kiss while your hand slips inside his boxers. He shudders out a moan into your mouth the second your fingers wrap around him. He's hot and thick in your palm, the head slick where he's already leaking. You hum softly against his lips while you give him a slow, gentle stroke.
"Jesus," he breathes, hips jerking up into your fist. You swallow the next filthy sound he makes, licking into his mouth while you twist your wrist on the upstroke.
"Wait, baby, waitβ" He catches your hand. "Wanna be inside you."
You heave out a sigh of relief. Finally.
You release him and shift forward on his lap, lifting your hips while he shoves your panties to the side blind, your skirt covering both of you from the waist down. He grips himself at the base, dragging his tip through the dripping seam of you a few times to get himself nice and slick. Then your foreheads are pressing together, both panting as he eases toward your opening.
"Look at me," he whispers, his free hand reaching up to hold your face.
You look. His brown eyes are blown almost black, lashes dark and damp. Your hands find his faceβa face you're wondering how you could've ever been mad at over a Coke canβand sweep your thumbs gently across his cheeks.
He pushes into you soft and slow.
Your mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. Only a thin, shaking breath that he swallows with a kiss as he fills you. His hand drops down to cradle the curve of your ass, guiding you as you sink down onto him.
The stretch pulls a broken sound from somewhere low in your chest. Steve catches that against his lips too, kissing you deep and filthy while your bodies slowly connect, the front of your skirt bunching up between you.
"There you go," he groans when you finally take all of him. He wraps his arms around your waist and sighs into your neck, low and rough. "Fuck, you feel good."
You whine into his hair, unable to speak as you adjust to him. No matter how many times you've done this, he always splits you open at first, as careful as he is. His hands rub over your back in wide soothing circles as he presses kisses to your shoulder, your jaw, your neck. All the little spots he knows makes you soft.
You sigh appreciatively, braving a slow, tentative roll of your hips when you're relaxed enough. The sensation drags a low groan out of you both. His fingers dig into the soft dough at your waist, guiding your rhythm until you find it on your own.
Your pace doesn't stay slow for long. The chair creaks beneath you as you ride him harder, his breath puffing soft and fast against your throat.
"Fuck, that's it," he growls. "Don't stop."
You don't stop. Not when you already feel the tension starting in your abs again. Your weight shifts as you try to deepen the angle to take more of him, and you gasp when you lean too far back.
His arm locks around you in an instant, hauling you flush against his chest without breaking the rhythm you've set.
"Here, baby," he pants, nose brushing yours. "Hold onto me. I got you."
Your arm loops around his shoulders and stays there, fingers twisting in his hair while he fucks up into you. Wet, slapping sounds fill the booth, but you can barely hear them while you're gasping his name. Your walls start to tighten around him, squeezing and clenching with each pump of his hips.
"Steve," you beg.
"I know, I know," he grits through his teeth. His hand snakes between you again. "Come on, honey. Give it to me."
He circles twice, and that's all it takes. Your spine locks, the orgasm tearing through you silently at first, mouth open with no sound, before you choke out a broken cry against his throat.
"Oh fuckβ" His voice cracks as you clamp around his cock in helpless pulses. Steve locks his arms around you and pulls you down, burying himself deep before you feel the first hot spill of him inside you.
You gasp, still coming by the time he starts. Your chest heaves against his while he fills you up, stars swirling in your eyes with every twitch of his cock inside you. Steve crushes his face into your neck, muffling a low groan as he rides out the last waves, hips circling lazily while he empties himself into your soft, pretty pussy.
He holds you there as you both come down, your body limp and sated in his grasp. Slowly, your breathing evens out against his neck, his hand combing gently through the hair spilling down your back while he softens inside you.
You lift your head finally, just enough to look at him. His hair is even more of a wreck than it was before, half of it sticking out in every direction and the other half plastered to his forehead. You brush it back with a fond little laugh at how ruined he looks.
"You okay?" you murmur with a tilt of your head.
Steve blinks up at you, dazed. His lashes flutter like he's forgotten where he is for a second, and then a dopey grin spreads across his face.
"Mhm," he hums. "You?"
You nod, tucking a damp strand behind his ear. His eyes close at the touch, and you let your smile stretch a little wider.
"So," you say. "Are we done fighting?"
He cracks an eye open. "We were fighting?"
You flick his shoulder. He yelps and grabs your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before you can do it again.
"Yes. Done fighting. I'll clean the whole apartment. Scrub the floors. Bleach theβ"
"Just throw away your cans, Steve."
"I will throw away every can. Every single can. I'll throw away cans that aren't even mine."
Your eyes roll. "Steve."
"Neighbors' cans, too."
You snort, dropping your forehead against his. He catches your chin between his fingers and pulls you in for a lazy, salty kiss that sends a fresh lick of heat down your neck.
"Careful," you warn against his lips. "Or I might justβ"
Down the hall, you both hear a door open.
"Is thatβ" he starts, eyes wide.
"Shit," you hiss, shifting in his lap and stopping when you feel the mess between your thighs. "How is she back already? We need⦠napkins. Or something."
Steve glances around the booth. His eyes land on Robin's stack of handwritten song request cards. He lifts one eyebrow.
You poke his chest. "No."
"She'd never know."
"Steve."
The doorknob rattles. You both freeze and look over slowly.
"Uh⦠guys?" Robin's looking at the floor, hand over her eyes as her voice carries through the glass. "The uh⦠the mic's been live this whole time."
πππππππ: boyfriend!steve harrington x fem!reader
πππππππ: When your lover's spat with Steve leads to a cold war in the WSQK booth, Robin decides she's had enough and leaves you two alone to work it out. You refuse to say a word to him even when she's gone, but Steve has his ways of getting you to talk.
ππππ/ππππππππ: 18+, smut (mdni), porn no plot, no use of y/n, established relationship, make-up sex, fingering, thigh riding, unprotected piv, cre*mpie, praise, soft dom!steve, semi-public sex, accidental exhibitionism (?)
ππππ πππππ: 3k
π/π: hello! i have two other wips i should be working on but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. hope u like it xoxo
It started with something stupid. An empty Coke can left on the counter that spiraled into an argument way bigger than it should've been. Names were called. Doors were slammed. It didn't help that your AC unit crapped out right in the middle of a heatwave either, leaving you both sweltering before you'd even stepped out of your shared apartment.
By the time you two make it to the station, you're already giving each other the silent treatment.
You storm inside first, leaving him in the dust as you bolt for the coffeemaker. He lumbers in after, scowl on his face, hair wrecked by the humidity.
It's easy enough to avoid each other before the broadcast, but once you're forced into the booth together, you drop into the swivel chair without a word. Your body angled away from him toward the console.
Robin lasts until lunch before she finally says something.
"Okay! So I'm gonna go." She stands, shooting a look between the two of you. "Whatever this is, please fix it. Or at least⦠try not to stare each other to death while I'm gone."
When neither of you respond, she just backs out slowly, nearly tripping over her own feet before the door creaks shut behind her.
The booth is deathly quiet when she leaves. Which is ironic, because you're pretty sure you've been in actual morgues with more noise than this vacuum that's formed between the two of you. But you don't look up. Not when you hear him let out a dramatic sigh, or when he snaps a cassette case louder than necessary.
No. You let him pout, giving him nothing while keeping your eyes glued to the playlist sheet on the desk. Crossing your legs and bobbing your ankle up and down. Letting your pleated skirt hike just a little bit higher up your thigh.
You aren't the least bit surprised when you hear the tapes stop clattering.
There's another beat of quiet before his foot nudges the leg of your chair. You don't move. So he does it again.
Finally, you turnβslowβand give him a look.
His mouth quirks. "You gonna ignore me all day?"
You frown, ignoring him while you flip a page.
"Wow," he scoffs. "You know, I was gonna apologize, but with this attitudeβ"
"Apologize, then," you interrupt. Calling his bluff.
He sits back and crosses his arms. "Well, look at that. She speaks."
"Look at that," you echo, turning back to the console. "He listens. For once."
You hear movement, then his hand is on the back of your chair before you even realize he's gotten up. The room blurs as he spins you back, planting both hands on the armrests once you're facing him again.
You stare stubbornly at the wall over his shoulder. Arms folded over your chest. Steve sighs and takes a seat in front of you, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
"I was saving it for the recycling, okay?"
You huff. "Then why was it in the middle of the counter?"
"I told you, I didn't want to forget!"
You shake your head, still refusing to meet his gaze.
"β¦Fine," he mumbles. "I'm sorryβ¦ alright?"
You arch a brow. "For?"
"For being a dick," he mutters, sliding a hand over his neck. "Andβ¦"
He leaves the sentence hanging half-finished. You tilt your head, waiting, but Steve doesn't look up. His gaze is stuck below your waist, where the hem of your skirt has ridden up even higher, fanning in a pretty arc across your legs. He swallows audibly and leans in closer.
It happens slow, his hand wedging between your thighs to grip the base of your seat. Your breath stutters as he tugs you forward, the stool skidding across the floor.
You finally look at him. No other choice really, with your faces inches apart like this. But where you expect to find him smiling or smug at having flustered you, instead his gaze is just⦠dark. His eyes heavy and locked with yours. Beneath the light, you catch the faintest sheen of sweat across his cheeks, fresh and dewy on his skin.
Warmth pulses between your legs in a way that's practically Pavlovian at this point. Because you know what it means when he gets this look. Where it always leads. You swallow a little as the woodsy scent of his aftershave reaches your nose, your fury fading fast into a different kind of heat that sits warm and low in your stomach.
Steve shifts then, your knees bumping together. He slides one of his forward between your thighs, slotting you two together and pulling you close.
"You wore this on purpose," he breathes low into your ear. You shiver as he brushes your hair back over your shoulder, his knuckles grazing the soft skin just beneath the hem of your skirt.
You exhale slowly. You did wear it on purpose. Something takes over him every time you wear this fucking thing, which is why you'd put it on in the first place this morning, a flirty little tilt to your hips. Five hours ago, you figured you two could sneak into the closet, or out to his car on your lunch break, maybe tease him with it until you had a chance to be properly alone.
But then you'd gotten into that fight, and you kept it on out of spite. You knew it would drive him crazy, having to see you in it and be forced to keep his hands to himself.
Only his hands were already disappearing beneath it.
"Steve," you breathe against his neck, barely pretending. "We're at work."
He noses the soft spot beneath your ear. "No one's here."
"The walls are glass."
"We'll be quick," he promises.
You're about to argue, but the gentle, warm press of his tongue over your pulse rips the protest from your lips. You melt, your eyes closing with a quiet sigh of surrender, and he groans into your skin at the salty taste of you, one hand snaking up into your hair to hold you in place while the other coaxes your knees apart.
"What if Rob comes back?" you whisper, already short of breath.
"She won't. She literally just left." His lips graze your forehead. "Now c'mere⦠let me apologize."
He curls a hand under your knee, tugging you toward him those last few inches. You let him guide you to the edge of the seat, until your chin's hooked over his shoulder and you lose sight of what his other hand's doing. You sigh into his hair when you feel his palm finally disappear between your legs.
He gives a testing little press against you, smiling to himself at the quiet noise you make for him.
"Yeah, baby. That's it," he whispers, his breath hot against your temple while he cups you more firmly. You gasp and clutch onto his sleeve, the contact making the damp spot on your panties bloom out even further at the edges.
"Oh, honey," he soothes, his free hand still cupping the back of your head. "Look at you. All worked up already."
You huff over his shoulder, even as your hips curl forward on their own, seeking the heel of his palm.
"I'm still mad at you," you mumble into his neck.
He hums, thumbing your panties to the side in a slow arc. "Yeah? You gonna let me fix it?"
Without waiting for your answer, he parts you gently down the middle. Your gasp is sharp against his shoulder, and he hushes you softly, groaning at the way you're already coating his fingers as he traces your slit.
"Fuck, baby," he breathes, his voice rough now.
He slides right through you, nice and easy. His thumb brushes through your curls before dipping down to circle you where you're softest. You muffle a whimper into his shirt and feel his grip tighten on the back of your neck.
"There?" he whispers, mouth pressed to your hair.
You nod breathlessly, panting now and barely able to hear him. He sucks softly beneath your ear and starts working that sweet spot, pulling more broken sounds out of you as you spiral quickly toward the edge.
Your hips shift forward again, thighs weak and shaking. You're nearly there, whining and clenching around nothing, when you thrust too far and start to slip off the edge of the seat.
"Shitβ" you gasp.
Steve catches you before you can fall. His arm hooks around your waist, lifting you up like it's nothing. Your hands automatically find his shoulders as he hikes you up onto his thigh, your skirt settling even higher around your hips while you straddle him. He wets his lips when your bare skin presses against his jeans, the heat between your legs making his pants go tight around his hardening cock.
"Easy," he murmurs, sliding a hand up your back to steady you. "You okay?"
"Yeah," you breathe out, a little embarrassed. A pretty flush warms your cheeks as he brushes back a curtain of hair that's fallen in your face. He gives you a big, breathy smile that makes your heart burst wide open.
"Okay," he pants, glancing around to check that the station's still empty. With no sign of Robin, he plants a soft peck on your cheek and lets his hand drop to your hip. "Ready?"
You nod, your thighs squeezing around him as he rocks you forward, guiding you to grind against his leg. Your head tips back with a moan just from the friction of it.
"Steveβ"
"I know," he mumbles, dipping down to suck at your collarbone as you writhe on him. "Use me, baby. It's okay."
You bite your lip, rolling your hips shamelessly now as you chase the pressure. The orgasm you lost starts building again. You feel it coiling deep in your belly, but it's not nearly enough to get you off just riding him like this.
He tries to help, tugging one of the buttons free on your shirt and mouthing gently at the swell of your breast. You moan, fingers sinking into his hair and keeping him there while your knee lifts high enough to brush at the bulge between his legs. Steve buries a groan between your tits, his hips bucking up before he can stop himself.
"Fuck," he grits out, forehead dropping to your chest. "That's not fair."
You smile into his hair and do it again, dragging your thigh slow and careful just beneath the heft of his balls. His head snaps back, tendons straining in his neck as a strangled moan rips from his throat.
"Babe, fuckβ" he chokes out. "I'm serious. I'm gonna come in my fucking pants if you keep doing that."
Your hand drops between your bodies, finding his belt buckle by feel as you hold his gaze.
"Need you," you pant against his cheek, unlatching him. His head falls back against the chair as you work the button open next, then the zipper. He's rock hard by the time you're peeling the denim apart, a damp patch already darkening the fabric of his boxers.
Steve watches you with glazed eyes.
"Here?" he rasps, like he wasn't the one that started this.
Your answer is a hard kiss while your hand slips inside his boxers. He shudders out a moan into your mouth the second your fingers wrap around him. He's hot and thick in your palm, the head slick where he's already leaking. You hum softly against his lips while you give him a slow, gentle stroke.
"Jesus," he breathes, hips jerking up into your fist. You swallow the next filthy sound he makes, licking into his mouth while you twist your wrist on the upstroke.
"Wait, baby, waitβ" He catches your hand. "Wanna be inside you."
You heave out a sigh of relief. Finally.
You release him and shift forward on his lap, lifting your hips while he shoves your panties to the side blind, your skirt covering both of you from the waist down. He grips himself at the base, dragging his tip through the dripping seam of you a few times to get himself nice and slick. Then your foreheads are pressing together, both panting as he eases toward your opening.
"Look at me," he whispers, his free hand reaching up to hold your face.
You look. His brown eyes are blown almost black, lashes dark and damp. Your hands find his faceβa face you're wondering how you could've ever been mad at over a Coke canβand sweep your thumbs gently across his cheeks.
He pushes into you soft and slow.
Your mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. Only a thin, shaking breath that he swallows with a kiss as he fills you. His hand drops down to cradle the curve of your ass, guiding you as you sink down onto him.
The stretch pulls a broken sound from somewhere low in your chest. Steve catches that against his lips too, kissing you deep and filthy while your bodies slowly connect, the front of your skirt bunching up between you.
"There you go," he groans when you finally take all of him. He wraps his arms around your waist and sighs into your neck, low and rough. "Fuck, you feel good."
You whine into his hair, unable to speak as you adjust to him. No matter how many times you've done this, he always splits you open at first, as careful as he is. His hands rub over your back in wide soothing circles as he presses kisses to your shoulder, your jaw, your neck. All the little spots he knows makes you soft.
You sigh appreciatively, braving a slow, tentative roll of your hips when you're relaxed enough. The sensation drags a low groan out of you both. His fingers dig into the soft dough at your waist, guiding your rhythm until you find it on your own.
Your pace doesn't stay slow for long. The chair creaks beneath you as you ride him harder, his breath puffing soft and fast against your throat.
"Fuck, that's it," he growls. "Don't stop."
You don't stop. Not when you already feel the tension starting in your abs again. Your weight shifts as you try to deepen the angle to take more of him, and you gasp when you lean too far back.
His arm locks around you in an instant, hauling you flush against his chest without breaking the rhythm you've set.
"Here, baby," he pants, nose brushing yours. "Hold onto me. I got you."
Your arm loops around his shoulders and stays there, fingers twisting in his hair while he fucks up into you. Wet, slapping sounds fill the booth, but you can barely hear them while you're gasping his name. Your walls start to tighten around him, squeezing and clenching with each pump of his hips.
"Steve," you beg.
"I know, I know," he grits through his teeth. His hand snakes between you again. "Come on, honey. Give it to me."
He circles twice, and that's all it takes. Your spine locks, the orgasm tearing through you silently at first, mouth open with no sound, before you choke out a broken cry against his throat.
"Oh fuckβ" His voice cracks as you clamp around his cock in helpless pulses. Steve locks his arms around you and pulls you down, burying himself deep before you feel the first hot spill of him inside you.
You gasp, still coming by the time he starts. Your chest heaves against his while he fills you up, stars swirling in your eyes with every twitch of his cock inside you. Steve crushes his face into your neck, muffling a low groan as he rides out the last waves, hips circling lazily while he empties himself into your soft, pretty pussy.
He holds you there as you both come down, your body limp and sated in his grasp. Slowly, your breathing evens out against his neck, his hand combing gently through the hair spilling down your back while he softens inside you.
You lift your head finally, just enough to look at him. His hair is even more of a wreck than it was before, half of it sticking out in every direction and the other half plastered to his forehead. You brush it back with a fond little laugh at how ruined he looks.
"You okay?" you murmur with a tilt of your head.
Steve blinks up at you, dazed. His lashes flutter like he's forgotten where he is for a second, and then a dopey grin spreads across his face.
"Mhm," he hums. "You?"
You nod, tucking a damp strand behind his ear. His eyes close at the touch, and you let your smile stretch a little wider.
"So," you say. "Are we done fighting?"
He cracks an eye open. "We were fighting?"
You flick his shoulder. He yelps and grabs your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before you can do it again.
"Yes. Done fighting. I'll clean the whole apartment. Scrub the floors. Bleach theβ"
"Just throw away your cans, Steve."
"I will throw away every can. Every single can. I'll throw away cans that aren't even mine."
Your eyes roll. "Steve."
"Neighbors' cans, too."
You snort, dropping your forehead against his. He catches your chin between his fingers and pulls you in for a lazy, salty kiss that sends a fresh lick of heat down your neck.
"Careful," you warn against his lips. "Or I might justβ"
Down the hall, you both hear a door open.
"Is thatβ" he starts, eyes wide.
"Shit," you hiss, shifting in his lap and stopping when you feel the mess between your thighs. "How is she back already? We need⦠napkins. Or something."
Steve glances around the booth. His eyes land on Robin's stack of handwritten song request cards. He lifts one eyebrow.
You poke his chest. "No."
"She'd never know."
"Steve."
The doorknob rattles. You both freeze and look over slowly.
"Uh⦠guys?" Robin's looking at the floor, hand over her eyes as her voice carries through the glass. "The uh⦠the mic's been live this whole time."
carnivals β diet coke β buttered popcorn β road trips β baggy jeans β long weekends β drive-in movies β pizza β arcades β friday the 13th β rainbow sprinkles β lover's lake
{series/multiparts} β = ongoing β = completed
π β heatwave & cool down ~ @joekeerysbellybutton
π β the steve harrington summertime spectacular! ~ @jamdoughnutmagician
π β august writing challenge ~ @stevenose
β against the current ~ @imani4reading
π β tell me what you need ~ @sheisjoeschateau
π β "let's show them we are better" ~ @sheisjoeschateau @keer-y
β @upsidedownwithemmy
π β she drives me crazy / meet me in the afterglow
π β we tried the world
π β bad for business
{one shots}
summer free ~ @spderjmz
π sunshine baby ~ @oh-sweet-thing
dirty dancing ~ @swirledyouintoallmypoems
i want you more than any stupid song could ever say ~ @swirledyouintoallmypoems
summer stories ~ @forevermoreharrington
π your name is on my lips ~ @xpeachsunsidex
π silver & gold ~ @bangaveragewhitewine
π rule breaker ~ @graywrenhart
π you're screwing my sister?! ~ @colouredbyd
road trip daydreams ~ @joekeerysbellybutton
zombie movies & first kisses ~ @keeryhours
lovers at the lake ~ @yasministration
π a slow motion love potion ~ @upsidedownwithemmy
| special mention for all her summer one-shots !!! my favorite is summer night lights
βΒ» @jinxispunk
π lover's lake / windows down / hold this for me / strawberry picking / too hot to handle
βΒ» @moonstoneandmoonlight
wildest dreams / i see right through you
βΒ» @levanswrites
π edge of seventeen / walking on sunshine / there is a light that never goes out / this time last summer
βΒ» @djohours
π cart girl / melting / scoops
βΒ» @imani4reading
the first i love you / heart to heart / so... maybe we're lost / too late, sweetheart / of course she's my girlfriend! / don't let this be a lost romance
βΒ» @athenas-rose
π sweetest thing / fitting room fiasco / written in the stars
βΒ» @tinfoileddd
π in the summer sun / under the fireworks / summer storms
βΒ» @firelilyfox
coworkers, ahoy! / saved you to save me / movie night / it all started at a red light / the prank / date at the lake / summertime at midnight
summer dreams are on the way !! ~ @forevermoreharrington
hey there !! summer!steve is officially upon us, and i wanted to put together a collection of stories to match the feeling of scoops ahoy shenanigans & movie nights with the kids plus a cute brown-haired boy by our side. hope you all enjoy the matching playlist as well !! please don't hesitate to share any stories you love in the comments; i'm always happy to add your favorite writers to the list. happy early fourth of july !!
people wondering why i've kept steve and pen mostly separate or on bad terms for like sixteen chapters are about to find out it's because they never shut the fuck up whenever i let them be in a room together
WARNINGS: underaged drinking, two avoidant idiots dancing around each other
SUMMARY: Steve and Pen take Max home. After dropping her off, they cope with the shitty week they've had in the healthiest way they can (getting drunk in Pen's living room).
Steve watched her cross the living room toward the hall closet, flicking on a lamp as she passed. An orange cat lifted its head from the couch cushion and looked at Steve with open suspicion.
He frowned at it. "What?"
"Huh?" Pen called.
"Nothing," he shouted back. "Just⦠Becky had a cat?"
"What? Oh. No," Pen said from the hallway. He heard hangers scraping. "She kinda just showed up the other night. It was freezing out so I brought her in."
He hummed. "What's her name?"
"Repo."
Steve snorted. "Was 'Foreclosure' taken?"
The scraping stopped. "I heard that."
now why am i having thoughts about an angsty gator x reader series where you're in a shit ton of debt and roy bails you out and makes you deputy partner as long as you agree to spy for him and keep gator from getting in too much trouble...
