[drippingsteve]

Masterlist

Last updated: 7/10/26

My Girl | Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader (18+)

Word Count: 4k

Summary: The hot drummer hits on you after a dive bar performance, and Steve shows his jealous side.

Stuck | Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader (18+)

Word Count: 833

Summary: You find yourself stuck in an elevator with Steve the day after you told him you didn't want to hook up anymore.

Domestic Bliss | Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader (18+)

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: You and Steve recently moved in together, and you break the kitchen in.

Keep Going | Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader (18+)

Word Count: 737

Summary: Steve comes out of the shower to find you touching yourself.

Pull Over | Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader (18+)

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: You have a hot date with Steve, and you tease him until you get what you want--in his car.

That Look | Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader (18+)

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Steve is your best friend, and at Robin's birthday party, a little tequila leads to big confessions.

Requests

"hey!! how do you think steve would react to reader having HUGE tits? like im talking J cups. big boobies. thanks!!"

[drippingsteve]

boss!steve fic is at 16k words and i'm thinking about wrapping it up soon...

should i post it in parts or wait to post the whole thing???

[drippingsteve]

okay 5k words of the new fic done and im loving it...

boss!steve is my new fixation

how long would you guys want parts to be... i'm imagining the final wordcount being somewhere from 15k-30k so maybe three parts???

let me know ur thoughts <3333

[drippingsteve]

Boss Steve. Delicious. Pleaseeeeeeeee post

THANK U ANON I'M DOING IT FOR U i'll be working tirelessly

[drippingsteve]

alright i know i just posted something but i have to tease the fic i'm working on now...

boss! steve who bought the family video store x college student(?) reader

i lowkey want to make it a slowburn because slowburns are my absolute favorites to read and i have yet to write a multi-chapter fic

what do you think??? i've already started and i have so so many ideas for this fic but would you want to read it??

[drippingsteve]

My Girl

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female! Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Smut (18+), P in V sex (unprotected), praise kink, softdom! Steve (kinda), possessive/jealous! Steve, begging, coming inside, oral (both receiving), LMK if I missed anything!!!

A/N: It’s been a month since I posted something, and I’ve been working on this really sporadically. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me know if there’s anything you wanna see; I would love to hear from any readers or followers!!!! Thank you sm for all of the likes and reblogs! I hope you like this one!!!! 

“Are you almost ready, babe?” Steve calls lovingly from the bedroom, flipping through a magazine. You’ve already told him that you only need five more minutes twice. 

He’s learned to be very patient with you, keeping a stash of reading material in a milk crate under your bed. 

The door swings open and he straightens up, tossing the magazine on the bed. 

“I just need my shoes,” you respond, walking out of the bathroom with a smile. “How do I look?” You stand in front of him, spinning around to give him the full view. 

Steve’s eyes rake over your form. “You look so–” he grips your thighs and pulls you to stand between his legs, “–damn good,” he finishes. 

His fingers brush under the denim of your skirt, stroking your thigh as he looks up at you with his signature bedroom eyes. “What’s underneath?” 

You take both of his hands in yours and set them on his knees, leaning forward enough for him to get a good view of your tits in your sparkly top. 

“That’s for you to find out.” You kiss him softly, teasingly, then pull away abruptly. “Later.” 

He says nothing, just rubs his lips together with a smirk, tasting your lip gloss. He stands with you, grabbing your jacket as you put on your shoes. 

“Such a gentleman,” you comment as he helps you put the jacket on, kissing your cheek. 

—

At the bar, you meet up with a few friends. You’re there to see a band perform–Eddie’s “friend” is the lead guitarist, and you have a sneaking suspicion they’re hooking up. 

“It’s not a thing,” he reminds you and Robin when you arrive. “Okay?’

You nod affirmatively. 

“Not a thing. Got it,” echoes Robin, who sports a devious grin. 

“Ugh, I’m serious, Rob,” Eddie groans. “Please don’t embarrass me.” 

“I’m not embarrassing! Am I embarrassing?” Robin turns to you. 

You look between them, holding your hands up in surrender. “Leave me out of it,” you laugh. 

Steve arrives at your side, holding a beer for himself and a pink-ish cocktail for you. Saved by the bell, you think.  

“Thank you.” You take the drink from him, sipping it as his hand falls to rest above your hip.

“Is it good?” He squeezes your waist, watching your reaction. 

You nod happily. You told him to just get you “whatever,” and it’s delicious. 

Eddie and Robin have wandered away to get closer to the band, leaving you and Steve on the outskirts of the crowd. “So, Eddie and the drummer...?” Steve prompts. 

“The lead guitarist,” you correct. “And it’s nothing, according to Eddie. But I have my suspicions.” You cock an eyebrow. 

“Ah, I see. Well, it must be something for him to drag us this far from town.” He looks around. 

The crowd is a mixed bag. Some people you recognize from Hawkins, a few metalheads who must have ridden in on the motorcycles parked outside the bar, and some older couples. Not the place you’d normally choose for a Friday night outing, but not unpleasant. 

“Are you gonna dance with me tonight?” you ask Steve, sliding your hand over his chest. 

“Sure, baby, I’ll dance,” he responds, smiling down at you. Your perfect man. You know he’s not much of a dancer, but he’ll really do anything to keep you happy–especially when he knows he might get lucky. 

Drums begin to thump loudly in the bar, and you know the show is about to start. “C’mon,” you grab Steve’s hand and pull him through the crowd to stand with Eddie and Robin. 

The set is great–much better than you expected, honestly. You, Steve, Robin, and Eddie all dance through it, cheering loudly between songs and refreshing your drinks when you get the chance. Steve switches to water pretty quickly, knowing he’ll end up having to drive everyone home. 

“That was so much fun!” Robin grins when the last song is done, and Eddie nods in agreement. 

“They’re really good, right? I told you guys!” 

Steve’s hand claps Eddie on the back. “They’re no Corroded Coffin, Munson. Don’t worry.” Eddie rolls his eyes. 

Steve turns to you. “I’m gonna find the bathroom, babe. I’ll be right back.” He presses a kiss to your temple and wanders off toward the wooden sign marking the men’s bathroom. 

Eddie makes eye contact with the guitarist and quickly leaves you and Robin in the dust, boots clamoring to cross the floor. 

Robin turns to you, looking mischievous. “I’m gonna go eavesdrop, are you in?” 

You laugh, shaking your head. It sounds like fun, but to stay in Eddie’s good graces, you decide to stay and wait for Steve. 

“Okay. I’m going in.” She turns and heads after Eddie. 

Now, you’re alone. The bar is packed, but a few people start to head out as the band packs up. The taste of your drink lingers in your mouth–vodka, lime, something fizzy, and grenadine, maybe? You’re not sure, but Steve did a good job picking it. 

You glance toward the bathroom to get an ETA on your boyfriend, but no luck. There are at least six guys standing outside, so you assume it’ll be a minute. 

You’re not without company for long, though, because a man approaches you. Not just any man, but the drummer who just performed. He’s tall, slightly sweaty, and dressed in baggy jeans and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. 

He’s quite attractive, actually, and the drumsticks tucked into his belt really sell the look. 

“Hey,” he greets you. “Did you come for the show?” 

You nod. “It was great! I came with my friends and boyfriend. They loved it too.” You find the first opportunity to bring up Steve before the hot drummer can hit on you. 

He doesn’t seem to mind. Just cocks an eyebrow. “Boyfriend, huh? He leave you here all by yourself?”

Cocky, you think.  

“He’s in the bathroom,” you reply, narrowing your eyes. 

He considers this, glancing toward the bathroom. You wonder if he’s trying to figure out which one of the six guys is your boyfriend. “Hmm. So, do you come here a lot?”

“It’s my first time, actually. But it seems cool. Do they have music here a lot?” you ask, nodding toward the stage.

“Wednesdays and Fridays. We play every other Friday. You should come more often,” he leans on the table beside you, a little too close for your liking. 

“Maybe I will, if Steve wants to.” 

“Steve.” The name rolls over his tongue. “Is that your boyfriend? What’s he like?” 

You don’t hesitate. “He’s handsome. And friendly. Charismatic. Funny. The total package.” 

The drummer sighs dramatically. “He sounds like a real Prince Charming.” 

“He is,” you smile. 

“He must be, if he’s dating a girl as pretty as you.”

Across the bar, Steve is finally out of the bathroom, scanning the space for you. He sees you and starts walking over, slipping by people smoothly. When he sees that you’re with some dude he doesn’t know, laughing, he speeds up, pushing past people with far less grace. 

When you feel the heat of Steve behind you, you lean in, beaming. The drummer’s eyes track his hand as it slides across your waist, splaying out on your stomach. You can practically feel the smug smile all over Steve’s face. 

“You must be the boyfriend,” the drummer says with raised eyebrows.  

“I am, and you are?” Steve prompts, his voice friendly–you would kill to see the look on his face, though. 

“Tim,” he replies. “Nice to meet you.” 

Steve nods, and the beat of awkward silence kills you. 

“Tim’s the drummer! In the band!” you exclaim, turning so you can see Steve. 

“Oh yeah?” Steve meets your eyes briefly. “Good job, man, it was great.” 

“Thanks, dude,” Tim says to Steve, but his eyes are on you. “I’m gonna go find the rest of the band. I just had to come over here. It’s not every day you see a beautiful girl alone in a bar.”

His gaze flickers to Steve. “You should really keep a better eye on her, man.” He grins, shooting you a wink, and he’s off. 

—

“Okay, don’t puke on anything,” Steve grunts as he helps Robin into the backseat. “Y’have a few too many?” 

“Yes,” Robin slurs. “Can’t believe Eddie’s getting laid and we’re not.” 

Steve laughs. “Speak for yourself, Rob. Now buckle up.” He closes the door gently after her, leaving the two of you outside the car. 

He lowers his voice, leaning against the passenger’s door. “Don’t invite her to stay over. We’ll bring her home and put her to bed.” 

“Not up for company?” You slide your hand under his jacket, standing up on your toes to kiss him.

“No way.” He pulls you in, hand on the small of your back. His lips move against yours smoothly as he hums into your mouth. “Want you all to myself tonight.”

Then, he pulls away and opens your door. “Get in.”

—

Your body buzzes with anticipation as you unlock your front door, Steve’s presence heavy behind you. “I can’t believe that asshole hit on you,” he murmurs into your neck, hands wandering over your hips. “Not that I blame him. I would’ve done the same thing if I saw you.” 

“You must really like this outfit.” You push the door open and step in, Steve trailing you closely. 

“Oh, I do.” He kneels in front of you, grabbing your ankle gently so he can undo your shoes and pull them off one at a time. 

You rest your hand on his shoulder, loving the sight of him on his knees treating you like a princess. 

He slides his hand slowly up the inside of your leg, from your calf to between your thighs. “Are you gonna show me what’s under, now?” 

You nod, pulling him up to stand in front of you. He captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, shifting your skirt up your hips. You sigh softly into his mouth, tangling your fingers into his hair. 

You gasp when both his hands grab your ass firmly, pulling your hips against his. Then, he’s lifting you up and carrying you to your room. 

Your door slams against the wall when he kicks it open, tossing you on the bed with ease. “Turn around.”

You do as he commands, settling onto your hands and knees. Your skirt is bunched up around your hips, leaving nothing to Steve’s imagination as he takes in the bottom half of the navy blue set you chose to wear tonight. 

He runs his fingers over your panties, brushing your clothed clit and making you keen. 

“Did you like having his attention tonight?” Steve asks in a low voice, still rubbing you over the lace. 

You love when he gets jealous like this. You’ve seen it before–when he took you out to breakfast and you ran into your ex, when a club bouncer hit on you, basically any time a man looked at you in a way he didn’t like. 

And Steve’s not crazy. He never makes a scene, never gets angry with you. Instead, he channels his jealousy, stores it away until he gets you alone. 

“No,” you arch into his touch. 

He tugs your panties to the side, clicking his tongue. “You’re all wet. Is that from him?” He slides his thumb through your folds, gathering the wetness and spreading it around. 

You whine when his thumb rubs over your clit. You shake your head in response to his question, gasping when you feel his hand crack across your ass cheek. 

“No?” he hums. “Who’s it from, then?” 

Oh, he’s playing dirty. You dip your head, arching your back further to try and meet his hand, but he pulls it away with a smirk. “Steve, please.”

In one smooth motion, he flips you onto your back and pulls you to the edge of the bed, still standing over you. You hook your ankle around his hip, bringing him closer. 

“Look at you, babe. So pretty.” He cups your jaw, tilting your head toward him. His fingers brush over your lips and you part them instinctively, sucking his thumb into your mouth and tasting yourself. “Taste so sweet, too.” 

“Steve,” you plead when his thumb escapes your mouth with a wet pop. 

“What, baby? Tell me what you want.” He grips the neckline of your top and pulls it down to reveal your tits. 

“Want you to use your mouth on me,” you mumble, feeling suddenly shy. 

You expect Steve to lower himself dutifully between your legs, to use his delicious tongue on you like he has so many times before, but he doesn’t. 

Instead, he laughs. “You want my mouth, baby?” 

You nod quickly, clutching his shirt. “Please. Been thinking about it since before we left.” 

“Yeah?” A smirk creeps across his face at how utterly needy you are for him. “Then get on your knees and show me how bad you want it.” 

You waste no time, sliding off the bed and onto your knees. Steve doesn’t usually order you around like this, but you can’t say you don’t like it. He watches your face with blazing eyes as you undo his belt swiftly. 

You work on pushing his jeans down as he pulls off his jacket and throws it to the side. His cock springs free when you tug his boxers down, and you wrap your hand around the base, licking up the shaft. 

He sighs in pleasure, his hand finding the nape of your neck. “Spit on it.” 

You do as he says, gathering spit in your mouth and letting it fall on the head of his cock, pumping him to coat his length. 

“Good girl. Open up.” 

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, letting him slap his tip against it a few times. You wrap your lips around him, swirling your tongue as you stroke what’s not in your mouth. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” Steve groans. His eyes close momentarily, but come back to focus on you. A few times, you look up at him to make eye contact, and he looks very satisfied to see you on your knees. 

You really start to take him in, opening your throat as much as you can and drooling on his cock. 

He huffs and moans and curses, his fingers threading through your hair. “Fuck, you look so good like this.” 

You catch his eyes eagerly, bobbing your head faster at the praise. 

“Ah- fuck, babe. You’re mine, got it?” 

You moan around him in response, and his grip on your hair tightens, guiding your head just enough. 

When he starts to get loud and knows your knees are aching, he pulls you off of him by your hair. 

Gasping for breath, you sit back on your knees. Spit coats his length, the dark hair at the base of his cock dampened. “Did so good for me, baby. Think it’s time I return the favor?” 

You barely try to suppress your grin, taking his hands as he pulls you up. 

Your disheveled clothes are quickly torn off, courtesy of Steve. He lays you on the bed, the soft comforter tickling your bare skin as he throws his shirt off. 

Lowering himself between your legs, he litters kisses over your stomach, thighs, and down your calf. He’s working you up, teasing you like he normally does, but that’s not what you want. 

You need his mouth on you–you’re dripping just from giving him head. But you know that you’ll have to beg to get what you want. 

“Please, Steve.” You reach to make contact with any part of him you can, grazing his shoulder. 

“You’re needy tonight, babe. What’s got you all worked up?” he mumbles into your thigh, his lips hot against you. 

“You,” you respond, threading your fingers into his hair. You’re rewarded with a long, slow lick to your clit. 

His tongue is sinful against you, making you keen instantly. And he looks so good doing it–hair pushed up off his face, brows furrowed as he continues his ministrations. 

His arms wrap around your thighs, holding them open as he devours you. 

“Fuck, babe. Just like that,” you moan, encouraging him when he licks into you just right. 

“Mm, you taste so good, baby,” he murmurs against you. “Say my name.”  

It’s not hard to moan his name when it’s the only thing on your mind. “Steve, fuck!” you cry when he slides two fingers into you, curling them up toward that heavenly spot. 

His eyes burn with desire, his tongue and fingers spurred on by your words.

You know you’re not gonna last long– he always knows just how to take care of you, and your head swims with pleasure. 

His fingers continue working you, his tongue unrelenting on your clit. You spew praise and pleas as you feel your climax approaching. 

“Fuck, baby.”

“Don’t stop!”

“Please, Steve, I need it.” 

“Ah- fuck, I’m gonna come!”

Your fingers tighten in his hair, thighs fighting his grip as you writhe beneath him. 

It hits you all at once. You screw your eyes shut, back arching off the bed as you clench around him, drowning in the ecstasy that washes over you. 

Steve pulls away from you, rubbing his thumb over your sensitive clit while you catch your breath. 

“Damn, baby. Look how wet you are.” He withdraws his fingers, holding them up so you can see your slick glisten in the light. 

Your face flushes. “You’re such a freak.” 

“Guilty,” he concedes. “But you love it.” He leans down, and his lips clash against yours in a messy kiss. He tastes like you, and he’s right– you do love it. 

Finally, he straightens up, and he looks utterly pornographic. He licks his lips, face still shiny from eating you out. His cock stands at attention, thick and leaking at the tip, and the dark hair at the base leads up to the patch on his chest.

He reaches down to stroke himself a few times, and you spread your legs in anticipation.  

“You want it, baby?” He taps himself against your clit a few times, drawing a gasp from your lips. 

“Mm, need it, love it when you fuck me,” you purr, rolling your hips into his. 

“Know you do, love. Always so good for me. Only me.” He sinks into you slowly, hissing at the sensation. 

Your breath hitches when his tip kisses the deepest part of you, but you regain it with a gasp as he starts fucking you. 

He starts with long, deep, deliberate thrusts, his fingers digging into your hips as he studies your face. Your mouth hangs open, head thrown back on the pillow. The feeling of him inside you is like no other– all your nerves are on fire. 

“So big,” you moan, and you can feel his ego inflating with each thrust. 

“Yeah? Can you take it, babe?” His lips turn up, eyes locked on you as he starts to move faster. A lot faster. 

“Uh- uh-huh,” you stammer, hands reaching up to clutch at his biceps. 

Slap. Slap. Slap. Steve’s thighs hit yours. 

One by one, Steve pulls your legs up to rest on his chest, your calves on his shoulders. 

“Mm, I like this one.” You bite your lip, relishing the new sensation as he continues his steady pace. 

At the end of every thrust, when he’s deepest inside of you, he’s sure to grind into you, drawing whimpers from your lips. 

Pleasure pools in your stomach, hot and tight as he hits all the best spots inside you. 

“Fuck, Steve!” You clutch at his thigh, throwing your head back. 

“Who else fucks you like this?” he demands, drilling you harder. 

You open your mouth to form a response, but your mind is too occupied by his cock to answer his question. 

“Tell me,” he grunts. 

“N-no one!” you cry. 

“Yeah, that’s right, baby. Good girl.” He releases your legs, not stopping his thrusts, and you wrap them around his hips. 

It’s crazy how well Steve can dominate you in bed, when he’s normally at your beck and call–waiting patiently for you to get ready, fetching you drinks, getting on his knees to remove your shoes. 

You’re not complaining–being Steve’s girlfriend is great, through and through, but the sex is incredible. It’s the kind of sex most girls can only dream of having once, and you’re lucky enough to get it nearly every night. 

“Feels so good, Steve, fuck!” Your repeated moans fill the room, nails digging into his shoulders and pulling a grunt from his lips. 

“You trying to mark me up, baby?” He grabs both of your wrists and pins them about your head, his rough thrusts never ceasing. “That’s my job,” he mumbles as his lips find a home on your neck. 

His tongue traces the curve of your neck sweetly before sucking harshly on your pulse point, drawing a whimper from your lips. 

He pulls away to admire his work, purple blooming across the spot already. 

He watches you intently–the way your tits ripple with the force of his thrusts, the fucked-out look on your face, your hair messy against the pillow. 

“You look so pretty, babe. D’ya hear that?” Every time he pulls out of you, a wet schlick rings out, simultaneously disgusting and erotic. 

You nod in response, walls fluttering around him. 

“Shit, so wet for me. So tight. Can feel you getting close.” He is too, if his filthy mouth tells you anything. 

“M’gonna come, don’t stop,” you plead, rolling your hips against his to get any friction you can on your clit. 

“Say please,” he commands, voice low and charged as his grip on your wrists tightens. 

“Please!” you cry out immediately, afraid he might stop if you don’t comply. “Oh, fuck, please!” 

You’re on the brink of an orgasm, just waiting. Waiting for him to tell you to come, for his permission. You meet his eyes, desperate as ever, and he finally gives you what you want. 

“Go on, baby. Come for me,” he pants as releases your wrists, sliding his hands down your waist. 

You let go, waves of pleasure crashing through you. Broken moans fly out of your lips, hips stuttering into his as you come for the second time tonight. 

Steve stalls his thrusts for a moment, rocking into you shallowly so you can attempt to recover. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” His voice is weak, his eyes fixed between you where your bodies meet. 

You pull him down so you can kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

He starts fucking into you again, slower and more controlled. It’s your turn to take him apart now, clenching around him and grazing your nails over any skin you can reach. 

He doesn’t stop kissing you, but he breathes and moans into your mouth, signaling just how close he is. 

“Want you to come in me,” you pant, pulling him closer with your legs around his hips. 

“Yeah? You want my come?” He fucks you faster, spurred on by your words. “You’ve earned it, baby.” 

After a few final thrusts, he buries himself in you fully, coming deep inside you with a groan. 

For a moment, you both catch your breath, the weight of his body heavy against you.

“Fuck, babe,” he exhales, rolling over to lie beside you. You curl into his side, smiling up at him sleepily. 

You always get so tired after, and he knows he only has a few minutes before you’re out cold. 

“Stay right there, love.” He presses a soft kiss to your temple before rushing to the bathroom to fetch a warm washcloth. 

“So good to me,” you hum, squeezing his shoulder lovingly as he cleans you up. 

“I love you.” He gives you a chaste kiss. “My girl.” 

Your heart does a backflip. “I love you too,” you coo, then, just because, “You should be jealous more often.” 

He laughs dryly. “Jealous? I’m not jealous.” 

“Hmm,” you smirk, and he leans in, kissing you so sweetly your head starts to spin again. Then, he pulls away just enough to whisper on your lips.  

“I know you’re mine.”

[graywrenhart]

TRUCE

pairing: steve harrington x female!reader

summary: When your ex-friends-with-benefits proves he's incapable of keeping his mouth shut even while jerking off alone in his tent, you're forced to intervene. God, do you have to do everything yourself?

tags: MDNI, [SMUT] [ex-friends-with-benefits to lovers] [camp counselors][summer rivalry] [heavy mutual pining] [angst] [steve & reader are both college age] [fourth of july] [semi-public sex] [handjob] [tent sex] [trying to be quiet and failing miserably] [discussions of canon stranger things events] [oral sex f receiving] [talking about trauma/therapy] [fingering] [steve calls reader sweetheart, brat, bitch (once) and baby] [one thigh spank] [unprotected creampie] 5k words

a/n: saw this post from @s3xytosomeone and got inspired. let’s all just pretend i actually posted this on the 4th, okay? okay thanks!!!!

There are noises coming from Steve’s tent.  

You lie completely still under your own tent’s ceiling, breath caught in your chest. 

There it is again. Another soft grunt, but this one is deeper, almost desperate.

You’ve heard these sounds before. Your mouth goes dry as the reality of what he’s doing settles in your gut, a sharp ache building low between your hips. 

Thank God you’re all the way out instead of back at camp where your middle school-age campers are tucked away, sleeping in their cabins on the hill.

At Camp Woodwick, the last night of their month-long summer session always ends on the Fourth of July. Which is tonight. And on the last night, the counselors don’t have a curfew, so the whole lot of you can pitch tents down by the lake and watch the fireworks show. 

It was fun for awhile, but after a handful of lackluster campfire stories and couple burnt marshmallows, Steve announced he was going to bed. The guys complained, begging him to light some fireworks with them, but he said he was going to turn in anyway. 

Right after his eyes caught yours. 

You excused yourself shortly after him, not even really sure why. And as you changed into your sleep shorts and a t-shirt, and settled into your sleeping bag, you blamed your sour mood on the heat and the bugs.

Assuring yourself that it had nothing to do with the fact that you and Steve Harrington have been at each other’s throats for weeks.

Tonight is is counselor’s night out! It’s supposed to be a fun end-of-the-summer bash for all the adults who were paid a few grand to babysit. It’s the night everyone looks forward to the most. 

You should be having fun—being young. Whatever that means. 

At some point between the whole saving-the-world-and-barely-escaping-with-your-life-thing, you became somewhat of a stranger to that idea. Your life had been, for lack of a better term, flipped upside down. 

Steve groans again. Hot embers flare to life in your core, stirred up by the sound of his thready voice. So low and breathless. 

He has to shut up. What is he thinking, jerking off like this with people nearby?

Granted, your tents are the furthest away from everyone else’s, and no one has really gone to bed yet. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. But between the sticky humid air clinging to your skin, and the sharp whistles from exploding fireworks, when Steve moans softly again you finally just…snap. 

Ripping the blankets off yourself, you rustle around your tent for your flashlight, grumbling and muttering in the dark.

God, you have to do everything yourself, don’t you? 

You wince as your tent opens with a loud zip that punctuates the darkness surrounding you. Peeking over your shoulder, you can see the smoke from the campfire in the distance, curling up towards the stars. A few of your fellow counselors are still lounging around the fire, but most of them are small shadows dotting the lake’s edge. 

Steve pitched his orange tent under a tree. 

Stupid. 

Doesn’t he know that the roots will mess the tent stakes up? You’re surprised he could even get them in the ground. Honestly, it will probably fall down on him tonight. 

You hope it does. 

His tent is dark and quiet, but you march over anyway, flashlight raised so the beam falls straight on him when you turn it on. 

You yank on his tent’s zipper. It gives easily. A muffled curse comes from inside, and you click on the flashlight to reveal Steve lying on his side, bare chest rising and falling as he squints into the bright beam.

“God, you never could stay quiet, could you?” You say, bullying your way through the tent flap and zipping it back up behind you. 

Steve scrambles to throw his sleeping bag over himself, but it does practically nothing to hide his raging boner underneath. 

“What the fuck do you want?” He snaps, glaring up at you. 

Despite yourself, your eyes catch on a delicious bicep, and his muscled shoulder in the shine of your flashlight. That chest hair has taunted you all summer long. It’s been torturous pretending you didn’t know what it felt like against your bare breasts, against your back...

You clear your throat. “I just thought I’d let you know the whole camp can hear you jerking off.”

“What? I’m not—Jesus.” His big hand drags down his face, even as he pulls the sleeping bag up higher. “Get out.”

Whoops, there you go again, getting distracted by his hands. 

Maybe you should close your eyes, or turn around—something—because looking at him stretched out in the dark like this is making you think wicked things.

Your lips twist in a mocking smirk, and you gesture down to the sleeping bag. “Oh, c’mon, Steve. Why are you so embarrassed? It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.” 

Lots of times, actually. 

Through the years, you’d been there for everything—watched him get captured, tortured, and sacrificed for others. But after it was all over, and the dust settled, you fell into each other a different way. 

Because it wasn’t the days plagued with Demogorgons, evil Russians, or even Vecna that were the worst.

It was the days that followed.

The hollow darkness you experienced as the world kept moving on, oblivious to the memories that plagued you both. You had to learn how to live normally again, and something about that was both relieving and excruciatingly lonely at the same time.

The nightmares had a way of sticking to you like blood you couldn’t get off no matter how many times you scrubbed yourself raw in the shower. 

It was in those shaky, sweaty, middle-of-the-night fever dreams that you and Steve found solace in each other. Because when it all became a bit too much, you could dig your nails into someone else’s skin, feel a slick, hot mouth against yours—ground yourself in something intrinsically human just to prove that after everything, you still are.

But all that came to a screeching halt last summer. 

“Okay,” Steve sighs, shifting a little and squinting up at you. “Let’s say that I was. You wanted to come over and…cockblock me? From myself? And turn that thing off unless you want everyone to see two silhouettes in here.”

You click the flashlight off immediately, plunging you both into darkness. 

Maybe you should rescind your previous statement. Because now, without being able to see him, his proximity is somehow affecting you even more. 

You can hear his soft breaths, smell the lake water on his skin. And underneath it all, the familiar sounds and scents of him that opens a gaping hole of nostalgia in the pit of your stomach. 

You try to laugh, but it comes out cold. “You think I give a fuck if you’re rubbing one out, Harrington? No. I came over here because you’re fucking whimpering and moaning—”

“—I was not whimpering.” 

“—and you’re incapable of keeping quiet—yes, you were, and I was getting sick of hearing it. So, either do it quieter, or find someone to cover your fucking mouth.”

As you were talking, your vision adjusted to the darkness. Which is a very bad thing, because now you can see him again. Specifically the outline of his mussed hair as he lifts his chin to meet your gaze. 

“You offering?”

Your breath catches.

You should say no. You should tell him to go fuck himself—literally— and leave right now. He can let the whole camp hear him for all you care. 

But instead, you hesitate. 

Now, Steve is smart. Smarter than he gives himself credit for, that’s for sure. And there are certain patterns he’s picked up on with you over the years. Like, when you pause like that, the answer is almost always a yes. 

Which is why the second you go quiet, and the distant laughter of the other counselors fills the space between you, he’s already batting the sleeping bag off his lap. 

“I knew it,” he says. The fabric slips off him just as a firework bursts overhead, and your eyes drag over his body. The lean, tan muscle from all his time outside this summer, down to his long, hard cock jerking against his happy trail. “You’re so busy acting like you hate me, wanting to play this game where we bitch at each other all summer, and now you’re making up excuses to come into my tent—”

“Oh, trust me,” you scoff, tearing your eyes away to meet his again. “It’s not an excuse.”

“No?” he says softly, leaning back on one arm and gesturing at his body with the other. “Then, prove it.”

“Fine, but I’m only staying to keep you quiet,” you warn him, pinning him with a harsh look. 

“Sure. Whatever,” Steve rasps, watching as you drop to your knees beside him. 

Your fingers curl into his sleeping bag beside his shoulder, but you’re careful not to touch him. 

He wishes you would. 

You gesture impatiently at him, your hand a shadowy blur in the dark. “Go ahead and get it over with. I’m not sitting here all night. God.”

Steve rushes to obey, and when wraps his hand around his cock again, the rush is so intense it’s almost painful. The way you’re sitting there just watching him is making his head feel fuzzy, and his dick swell.

And look at you—pretending to not be affected in the slightest watching the flushed head poke out of his fist over and over as he jerks off in front of you. God, you turn him on so fucking much. 

Steve heaves a stuttering breath, and his head drops back onto the ground as the pleasure pools in his gut. He thinks he’s doing a good job being quiet. But he can’t smother the moan that escapes him the second your warm hand brushes his shoulder.

“Steve,” you hiss, warning lacing your voice. 

“Shut me up, then. Goddamn.” He groans, his cock twitching in his palm. “What are you even here for? I could do this myself—” At that moment, your hand finds his chest and, well, your fingers might as well be a defibrillator. His hips jerk, mouth dropping open in pleasure. “—oh, fuck yeah.”

Your touch is heaven. His eyelids threaten to shut as your fingers brush through his chest hair, over his ribs— so sure, and steady, soothing and warm. Like his flesh and bone is a map you know by heart. 

He’s panting, desperate not to make a sound and give you a reason to take your hand away while your palm trails lower.

He raises his chin to catch a glimpse of your profile as the fireworks crack in the sky, raining down in bright fizzling pops that he feels in his chest. 

Honestly, he should’ve known this is how the summer would end with you. 

He’s known it, and yet, he’s run from it. 

Because the last time he had you…God, he’s been such an idiot. 

Last summer, when you came home from college for break, he’d been sitting on your doorstep. A silent understanding passed between you two, and then you’d grabbed his hand and taken him up to your room.

Afterwards, you were laying under him, sweaty and warm, eyes glowing with…with something that made his heart tug painfully. And suddenly, it all got to be too much. 

He’d been craving you all semester. As if you were a long drag from a cigarette. And that gnawing ache didn’t surface with anyone else. Only you. 

His chest swelled up tight, and the bridge of his nose started to burn, and he realized… he was scared. 

Terrified, actually. 

Because what if the both of you reaching out for each other was nothing but a trained response, like Pavlov’s dogs or some shit? What if you had built this trauma bond…thing? He wasn’t entirely sure what that even meant, but he knew that no one could know him so intrinsically, so deeply, so invasively and still want him anyway. 

So, Steve proceeded to do the stupidest thing possible by dropping a kiss to your forehead, pulling his clothes back on, and walking out the door. 

He told himself it was for the best. Months after, even though he thought of you constantly, and still woke up slicked in sweat, hands flying to his wounds in the dark, he never called you. 

But when you showed up at Camp Woodwick, looking to earn some cash over the summer, same as him, all the walls he’d built up between him and his past came crashing down. 

So, he pushed you away. For weeks. It was worse than he thought it would be, though. Because when he pushed, you pushed back harder. 

His head swims with the knowledge that after a whole year without you, you’re here. You’re the same. Familiar. The smell of your hair, down to the soft breaths escaping to ur lips. 

He’s still hard as a rock, but his hand isn’t cutting it. Not when what he really wants is right here in front of him.

Steve curses under his breath. “You wanna help me out, sweetheart? Give me that mouth?”

“W-what?” You snort. “You can hardly be quiet with your own hand, Harrington. You think you’re going to survive that?”

“Please? Just lick it. Just the tip.”

“Stop begging. Also, be qu—“

“Right. Right, I’ll be quiet,” Steve grumbles. “Just—if you’re gonna fucking march in here and tell me to do it faster, then the least you could do is help me out.” Another firework squeals, then pops, showering you in gold as you blink down at him.

Boisterous laughs drift over the water, and your eyes flick up instinctively to meet the tent wall before your bottom lip disappears between your teeth. His stomach flips in anticipation. He knows that look. 

“C’mon,” he urges, fighting back a smirk. “You know how I like it, baby.”

Shit. 

Steve knows that pet name has always been your weakness. You’re not sure exactly why. Maybe it’s because it reminded you that on the outside, you were just friends. But in bed…you were his.

You shouldn’t fall for a cheap trick like that. Look at him, biting the corner of his mouth like he’s trying not to smirk. Cocky bastard. 

But, even so, you make the mistake of glancing down his body.

His hand slips away in a silent invitation, revealing his heavy cock jutting out from his soft tummy and you lose the war.

Rocks dig into your knees under the tent floor but you hardly pay them any mind, your clit already throbbing in anticipation of touching him. 

“Fine. But only because it’s faster.” You say.

Your hand curls around him, reveling in the hot, velvety feel of him in your palm. A sound slips from his throat, sudden and unbidden. 

You jerk your head up, and he can’t see your face clearly in the dark, but he knows your body language. The message is solidified when you bring your other hand up to rake through the hair on his chest, digging into his pec in warning. 

Steve’s hand lands on yours, and the warmth seeping through his fingers doesn’t just make your pussy clench, it also makes your nose burn. 

You turn your attention back to stroking him, ignoring the tightness in your lungs. Ignoring the way you’re practically holding hands across his chest.

“God, you’ve been kind of a bitch to me all summer,” Steve grunts, thrusting up into your touch. “You know that?”

You roll your eyes, even though he can’t see you. “Steve, you can’t call me a bitch at the same time you’re fucking my hand. Either we’re fighting or we’re fucking. Pick one. Jesus.”

“I don’t know.” His head falls back against the ground with a heavy thud. “We’re pretty good at both, apparently. God, your hand feel so g—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you hiss.

“Sorry! Sorry.”

Another firework shrieks into the sky, exploding in a loud pop, and showering you both in a flash of red. It lights up Steve’s body, illuminating the scars along his side. Long jagged things, carved deep under his ribs.

You can’t help but remember the panic that seized you when the Demobats descended on him. You’ll never forget the sickening horror that coursed through your body when you looked over to see him pale and shaking, dripping in blood. 

You swallow hard. Then, as if pulled by some invisible string, you lower your head and brush your mouth against his skin. His core muscles flex at the soft glide of your tongue on his belly, but he tenses as your lips trace his scar line.

“Don’t—” he rasps. Suddenly, his hand flies down and tugs your chin away. 

“What?” You whisper against his skin, a little teasing. But when you flick your eyes up to his, he looks away, raking a hand through his hair. Your hand slows around his cock and you frown. A thread of anxiety coils in your gut. 

“What?” you repeat. “I was there, too, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” He lets out a short laugh, but the warmth is gone from his voice. “I just—really don’t want to be reminded of that right now.”

You pull back, hands falling away from him instantly. 

Another bottle rocket screams, punctuating the heavy beat of silence that follows. Steve notices the shift in you, the way your body locks up in hesitation. 

Sighing heavily, he raises his palms to his face and digs them into his eyes. 

“Sorry, I’m—that was fucked up. I’m sorry.”

You sit back on your heels, suddenly unsure, and your eyes drop to the ground. 

He combs through his hair again roughly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I was just…there’s a kid here that reminds me of a little Eddie, and the scars—”

You smile softly. “Reed, right? I’ve been thinking the same thing all summer.”

“Every time I see those scars, I think about the bats, and then I think about losing Eddie, and then with you here—” He gestures towards you and he trails off. 

You don’t need him to finish the thought, though. You can see it in the way his chest heaves, and the slight crack in his voice. 

With a sigh, you settle down onto the ground beside him. He shuffles wordlessly, giving you room to lay on the other half of his sleeping bag. 

“It’s okay, Steve. This is how it always was for us. Just—two people trying to get through it, you know? To feel something again.” 

“Oh yeah? Is that all were?” His voice is deeper now. Huskier. It makes a lump build in your throat. “Was that all it was for you?”

You watch the light show fall across the tent ceiling together, muted little orbs glowing through the fabric. 

“No,” you say softly. “But everything hits me at once sometimes, too, you know. And when that happens...fuck, I just need you. And that feeling…” The words fizzle out and fall like the embers in the sky, and your hand reaches up to clutch at your chest—like it would be easier just to rip out your heart and show him.

Steve hesitates, swallowing hard. “It’s not…bad, right? That feeling?” 

“No, Steve. It’s not bad.” 

A quiet moment passes, then he blows out a breath. “At college, they have these therapists. Robin dragged me to a session once, so I went.” You turn your head to look at him, but he keeps his eyes above. “I was scared, like, what if they didn’t believe me, you know? And, well, I’m not sure if Dr. Treya really believes me, but that doesn’t seem to matter much. She treats it all like it’s true, anyway.”

There’s a loud squeal of a bottle rocket, then laughter somewhere in the distance. 

“I’m sorry we fought the last few weeks,” you whisper. “I was angry. But mostly just hurt. By last summer.”

Steve sits up a little at that, his strong arm bracing his torso as he looks down at you. “And you had every right to be,” he says. “I was a coward for leaving like I did. I got scared, I think. But, I’m getting better. At least, Robin says I am.”

You chuckle. “I’m sure she’s right.”

“But I am sorry, too. For that, and for…just for everything.”

You gaze up at him, and the urge to cup his face and bring his lips down to yours grips you by the spine. But Steve lays back down next to you before you can say anything. 

“I’m proud of you for going to see a counselor,” you say into the dark after a long moment. “Does it help?”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “But I wish there was something I could do, too, you know? Other than just talk about it.” 

He takes the world upon his shoulders, this boy.

He deserves to know that, at the end of the day, someone has him. Someone wants him. Not just for what he can give, but for who he is. He’s been pushing you away because you had that for him, and he didn’t know how to accept it. Until recently. 

You see that now. 

His bare arm is so warm against yours. You follow it down with your fingers until you find his hand, threading your fingers through his. 

“Steve, you’ve already done so much. For everyone.”

His hand practically swallows yours. Long fingers, with blunt tips. They just remind you of all the ways he’s used them to pull orgasms from your body, one after the other.

All he does is give, give, give. Even when you give him hell all summer, fuck, he gives that right back. 

Your hair whispers against the sleeping bag as you turn to look at him. His brown eyes meet yours, and his soft exhale ghosts across your cheek.

You search his face for permission, because he already knows what you’re asking. When his expression softens, just enough, you don’t hesitate. Hooking your leg around his waist, you roll on top of him and sit up. 

“Let me take care of you,” you say.

He sucks in a breath at the sight of you rising above him, his hand coming to land hot and heavy on your thigh. 

Scooting backwards, you lower your mouth to his torso. He hisses, his other hand flying to tangle in your hair. His cock has softened slightly against his hip, but you can fix that with your mouth in no time. 

His chest heaves with a shaky breath. “Wait, no. No, baby.” 

You suck a soft love bite on his hip before raising your eyes to his. “You don’t want it anymore?”

“No—shit, of course I want it, but—” He snorts, but his hand finds yours and he tries to pull you up. “If we’re going to do this, I want to do it for real. Not to distract each other. Not like we used to. Can…can you do that?”

You nod once. Then again. “Yes. Yes, of course, Steve. I wasn’t—I was just—” your heart slams into your throat. “I still love you.”

A slow, sweet smile spreads across Steve’s face. Your cheeks flush, and you try to squirm away, but Steve squeezes your thigh, urging you to find his eyes again. And when you do, you see that familiar heat is back. 

“Good,” he says. “Now we can get down to the real question of what the fuck do you think you’re doing barging into my tent when I’m masturbating, you little brat?”

Heat licks up your spine, and you bite back a grin. “I told you! You were being loud.”

“Yeah, sure, now tell me the real reason.”

“That is the real reason!”

“Don’t lie to me.” 

You open your mouth to argue, but his hands clamp down on your hips before you can, and in one smooth motion, he flips you so you’re on your back. Your heart slams against your ribs as he pulls you down under him, his chest rising and falling against yours. 

“Just admit it,” he says, a cocky grin twisting his lips right over yours. “You wanted me to lick that pretty pussy for you, didn’t you?”

Your panties dampen instantly, pulsing in anticipation of feeling his mouth on you after so long. 

You might have been at each other’s throats for weeks, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t like it. You saw it in his eyes by the campfire and by every rough two-hand touch football game. Every time your face went red and you mouthed off at him he’d just smile and lift his eyebrows as if to say, ‘is that all you got?’ Maybe crook two fingers at you with a cocky tilt of his head, urging you to ‘give me more.’ 

Well, you could definitely give him more. 

“I don’t know, Harrington,” you sigh, tilt your head against the tent floor in mock confusion. “I hardly remember what getting head from you is like.”

His grin turns wicked. Then suddenly, he’s moving—greedy hands tugging at your shorts. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, voice dripping in that mocking tone that always makes you wet. “I thought maybe you’d want me to do that thing my tongue that always—” A whimper escapes your throat and he breaks off mid-sentence with an openmouthed laugh. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He crawls down your body, taking your shorts and underwear with him, and you gasp when something hard and hot brushes your thigh. Glad to see he’s sporting that erection again. You feel a fleeting disappointment at the fact you haven’t gotten to suck him off yet, but it’s probably better this way, to be honest. 

It’s literally impossible to make Steve Harrington be quiet while getting a blowjob—

Without warning, he plunges two fingers deep into your slick channel. Your breath stutters, hips bucking into his palm on instinct. He groans out loud, but you’re too blissed out by the stretch that you can’t even get onto him for it. 

Lungs seizing, heart pounding, you squirm on the slippery fabric of his sleeping bag, trying to get even closer. Your nipples harden against your T-shirt, begging for his touch. For more of him.

You peek down your body just in time to see his head disappear between your thighs, and then his mouth is on you. God, his tongue is so warm and wet against your clit, and his skillful fingers stroke you just right. In and out, then curling into the spongey spot inside that has your mouth dropping open. 

“Missed those sounds you make,” he says, voice muffled against your pussy. 

Shit. 

You hadn’t even realized you were making noise. You dig your knee into his side in retaliation and he chuckles, squirming away before diving in again.

He licks messy, broad strokes, tasting you on purpose, getting you all over his tongue. When you grind up into his face he grabs you by the hips and moves with you, following your every wriggle and writhe. 

Yep, his mouth still makes the world feel dull, reducing your hearing to the whoosh of your heartbeat in your ears as everything else just fades away into mind numbing bliss—

“Shut up,” Steve says, pulls back from you with a wicked grin. His face is covered in your arousal, glinting in the firework light, and the sight makes you clench around his fingers. “Seriously, shut up if you don’t want them to hear you.” 

“Wha—Steve!” You whine, canting your hips up into his mouth again as he lowers himself back down to you. “H-help.”

He shrugs. “I’m not the one who gives a shit if they hear.”

The vibrations of his voice against your clit rips a moan from your throat, unbidden, and your lips cinch together. Your hand flies to your hip, finding his fingers there. You try to pull his hand up but he shakes off your touch, holding onto your waist and puling you roughly against his tongue. 

You whine in protest, and go to pull on his hand again, but that’s a mistake. 

He brings his palm down to your inner thigh with a sharp smack that has your back arching off the ground, your eyes narrowing in warning. 

“Cover your own mouth, sweetheart, fuck,” he chuckles, giving your clit a soothing series of licks. “I’m busy.”

“Fuck you,” you whisper, but it quickly turns into a needy whine when he sucks the swollen nub into his mouth. 

Steve continues to stretch you out on his fingers, murmuring dirty things into your pussy as he does. How sweet you taste. How tightly you’re squeezing his fingers. But you barely hear any of it. 

You’re so wet—both from his mouth and your arousal—that your inner thighs slick together when you try to squeeze them. He yanks your legs apart again, and you’re powerless to stop him because the pads of his fingers are dragging out tendrils of pleasure from your spine you haven’t felt in a year. 

Thankfully, the fireworks seem to be reaching a peak outside— loud bangs and pops going off every few seconds help drown out the sounds of your needy pussy and blissed-out sighs. Because frankly, you don’t have the brain power to think about anything except how desperately you need him inside you. 

You whimper again accidentally. “Steve—” 

“Okay, baby,” he replies instantly, knowing what you need by the tone in your voice alone. His fingers slip out and he rises up over you, your knees falling open eagerly as he lines himself up.

When he notches the tip of his cock at your entrance, your cunt greedily sucks him in. He gasps, hips bucking forward instinctively, and neither one of you are able to stop the mixed groans that ensue from finally, finally being connected like this again after so long. 

Big hands scramble for a hold on your waist, blunt nails pinching your skin as he drags himself back, then forth, slamming up into you with a depth that makes you sob.

“Still fuckin’ made for me,” he groans. “Goddamnit.”

You’re panting, arms wrapped around his shoulders, biting the skin of your forearm to keep from moaning as his hips roll slow and deliberate. 

“Good girl,” he praises, and you shudder, feeling the ache grow sharper. “Staying so quiet, look at you. You can’t ask me to be silent when you come around me, okay? Fuck—that’s like being tortured all over again.”

You shoot him a withering look even as you writhe underneath him. “That’s not funny.”

He laughs, and his silhouette shifts over you, his cock driving deeper and hitting that spot inside you that makes you see sparks that aren’t there. “Sorry, sweetheart. I just—oh yeah, grind that clit into me. That’s it.”

 Your hands rake through his hair, desperately trying to hold onto something. But the force behind his thrusts causes you to pull on the strands, and, well, that was a mistake. 

His teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder in order to stay somewhat quiet, and oh—fuck. How could you have forgotten what pulling his hair does to him? Stars burst behind your eyes as the fireworks crackle overhead, and the tension between your hips coils tighter. 

“Fuck—Steve,” you gush. “Please.”

“What do you need?” He rasps against your throat, sucking and biting. “I’m all yours.”

Little tremors course though your legs as your orgasm builds, the swollen head of his cock nudging those spots deep inside that ache for him. 

Only him.

“You need me to kiss you?” he says, breath hot in your ear. “Need me to shut you up?”

You nod frantically. 

“Go on, ask me for it.”

You whimper, too far gone to play the game anymore. “Kiss me, Stevie. Please, please—” 

“Fuck,” Steve groans at the nickname he hasn’t heard in so long, and instantly lowers his mouth to yours. 

The first brush of his lips against yours makes you want to cry. 

“Missed you, baby,” he says, then kisses you deeper, his tongue dipping into your mouth and swirling with yours. “So much. Missed kissing you. Missed talking with you.” He hesitates, pulling back slightly before planting one soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Missed loving you. But I guess I never really stopped, did I?”

Your eyes connect for one heartbreaking, devestatingly sweet second before you pull him back down, pouring your love for him into the gentle, yet desperate stroke of your tongue against his. 

Feeling you kiss him like that snaps something deep inside him. 

Your inner muscles clamps down around him as his thrusts turn messy and hard, and his hands run over your shoulders, your breasts, your hips, pulling your body back down to meet his every thrust. 

The pleasure builds to an insurmountable level as he rips your shirt up to capture your nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and making you want to scream. 

You flatten your palm over your lips, whimpering through the gaps in your fingers over and over, squeezing your eyes shut as Steve pushes you higher and higher until finally—you’re falling. 

Your teeth bite into your fingers hard to muffle your moans as your pussy clenches down like a vice on Steve’s cock rhythmically, your orgasm rushing through you. 

He lets out a choked sound above you, and with the way his chest falls in a sequence of familiar pants, you know he’s close. Through the pleasured haze, your other hand flies to cover his mouth just in time for his orgasm to hit. 

“Mmhmm, mhhhmm.” Steve whines loudly, as his body tenses, and his cock twitches inside you. And you have no choice but to shove your fingers inside his lips, forcing him to suck on them as he reaches his peak. His eyes roll back as he bullies his cock against your cervix, painting your walls with his come, even as his tongue strokes your knuckles tenderly and reverently.

It takes awhile for the both of you to come back down to earth, but eventually, you let your fingers fall from his mouth and he laughs breathlessly, dipping to give you one last slow kiss before slipping out of you. 

He fumbles around for his T-shirt in the darkness and then cleans you up with care, which makes your heart twist. Once he’s done, he settles on his side, and pulls you into him, your back pressed to his chest. You burrow into him, his arm settling around you, and it’s amazing how quickly your lashes start to fall, wrapped up in this familiar comfort. 

“So…truce?” Steve whispers into the crook of your shoulder. You laugh softly.

Even under a hazardously leaning tent, and a sky littered with mini explosions, the world seems a little less dark right now. The past, a little less heavy. 

Maybe it’s because neither of you are running away from it, anymore. But rather, facing it. Together.

And because you know, without a shadow of a doubt, Steve Harrington’s heartbeat will always be in your future.

“Truce.”

a/n: the tent definitely collapses on top of them five minutes later, by the way. also, my idea originally was not nearly as angsty, but don’t you just love it when characters highjack your story? god, the fics always turn out so much better that way.

steve masterlist | cutie banner by @cursed-carmine

[drippingsteve]

i haven’t written in weeks but i’m feeling inspired pls send requests 🙏 🤍 i will kiss you

[loveshotzz]

I promise no one’s watching

steve harrington x fem!reader friends to lovers

Being ‘just friends’ with Steve is easy until it’s not.

wc: 5k

warnings: 18+ | season five steve, flirting, tension, semi sneaking around, semi public unprotected p in v smut in The Squawk, praise kink, big dick steve talking you through it, cream pie, a little rovicki angst with the beginnings of ronance. steve slandering Beetlejuice because i know he would hate that movie.

author’s note: i don’t know what to tell you, this is pure smut. my ovulation has turned me into a rabid animal.

It was hard not to notice Steve Harrington. Everyone did.

Especially when he’s sitting across from you in the studio on a worn down rolling chair, legs spread wide in tight fitting denim. His big hands work the rubix cube with the utmost concentration, forearms flexing underneath the pushed up sleeves of his worn-in WSQK sweater. Every flick of his wrist stretches the fabric over his broad shoulders with each movement, as long deft fingers move rapidly to solve the puzzle in small clicks of plastic. Concentrated eyebrows furrow under that one swoop of hair that won’t just stay back, as he very badly pretends to listen to Robin’s regaling of another fight with Vickie about Nancy for the third time tonight.

The air around him has always rivaled the kind of humidity that suffocates your skin on the hottest Indiana summer day. A palpable energy that's buzzed around the two of you since Robin introduced you at one of Rick’s parties a few months ago. It’s the kind of chemistry that’s recently become very hard to ignore as introductions turned into third wheeling late night shifts at the squawk, and regular invitations to movie nights at their shared apartment. The biggest culprit of them all though? Steve’s incessant need to always drive you home. It doesn’t matter to him how late it is, or out of his way it is, even if it’s a blizzard or a torrential downpour — walking or catching the bus is never an option. Not if he has anything to do with it.

The quiet conversations that happen inside his BMW are always easy, even a little bit flirty when Robin isn’t around. On those nights, he makes it a point to rest his hand on the stick shift so close to your thighs they search for each other, squirming in his leather seat. Those are the ones that always end with him parked in front of your place for hours. Both of you losing track of time talking about anything and everything while learning those little things about each other that turn into something bigger over time. Unfortunately for you, that time feels a lot like now, and the silent promise to never act on whatever this is starting to feel nearly impossible to keep.

Steve’s eyes flit towards you for no particular reason, catching you staring, sparking something inside of them that warms deep in your belly. Something unmistakably dangerous.

Forcing yourself to look away, embarrassment blooms on your cheeks as you clear your throat with a shake of your head. But it doesn’t take long for your eyes to find their way back to him because it’s all they seem to want to do these days. With one side of his mouth tugged up, his full attention is on you now while his fingers don’t stop their mission to finish the puzzle he’s solved a million times before. Something about that has you biting the fat of your bottom lip, shifting in your seat perched on the side of his desk.

The whites of his teeth shine in a playful flirty grin as he rocks back in his chair, spreading his legs wider, earning that roll of your eyes he was looking for. Fast clicks of the rubix cube catch louder in your ears as all of the colors line up perfectly in his hands, and that grin on his stupidly handsome face turns into a proud beam like its the first time he’s accomplished this feat.

”Still got it!” He winks, tossing the toy up casually before catching it.

”Were you even listening to me, Dingus?” Robin hisses, smacking the cube out of his hand and you try not to giggle at the dejected look on his face that quickly turns into its factory setting of annoyance.

”Yeah, I was listening to the story you’ve told me three times today.” He snaps, leaning over to grab the toy off the ground, almost falling when the chair threatens to go off kilter. “Maybe, just maybe there’s a reason Vickie keeps getting mad.”

You’ve watched them have this conversation at least once a week for the past month where Steve tiptoes around getting Robin to admit her inconvenient crush on Nancy Wheeler.

“Hey! Who’s side are you on here?” She snaps, with a glare that wrinkles the top of her forehead.

Steve opens his mouth to reply but she quickly cuts him off before he even has a chance.

“You know what, no. No! I can’t be here, I need to go.” Robin deflects like she always does, grabbing her messenger bag she storms out of the soundproof room, and right out of the station’s double doors. Leaving you and Steve alone.

He scoffs, staring out the glass after her, a silent argument with himself on whether he should follow or not evident on his face. He runs a hand through his hair with a bouncing knee, taking a deep breath through his nose before bringing his gaze back to you, that rogue strand flopping back across his forehead.

“I wasn’t trying to be an asshole.” He groans defeated with eyes that plead for some kind of reassurance. “Should I go find her?”

“I think she just needs a minute.” You reply softly, legs dangling. “If she does have feelings for someone else, that’s gotta be overwhelming. She’s new at this, ya know?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, jaw ticking taking one last look outside before you see him visibly let it go with a sag of his shoulders.

”Always am.” You tease with a smile, doing your best to lighten the mood.

His eyes shift back to you, that dangerous thing from before returning ten fold twinkling in the gold specs inside of them. Suddenly the realization that the two of you are alone consumes the entire room, air turning thick with something that feels inevitable, that small little joke of yours working too well.

“Now don’t get crazy.” He scoffs, using his long legs to roll his chair towards you.

Something swoops in your belly, fingers curling around the wooden edge of the desk while you try to keep your composure, watching his Nike’s close the space.

“Name one time I’ve been wrong.”

Your challenge comes with a tilt of your chin, and an arch of your brow. The smirk you get in return has your teeth digging into your bottom lip, thighs closing the small gap between them. It still isn’t enough to stop the warmth between them from spreading, especially when he stops right in front of you. His face aligns with your knees from his seat, sending your body humming with his proximity to the place that’s wanted more of him for months now.

”How about when you said Beetlejuice was a good movie?” He snorts, meeting your gaze from under his lashes, something baiting inside of it.

”Are you kidding me? It’s an incredible movie! Tim Bur—“

”It was weird.” He cuts off with an irritated face, like just the memory of it is enough to annoy him.

”You’re weird.” You retort immediately, glaring with a scrunch of your nose.

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, before his narrowed gaze trails slowly down the length of your body. It lingers on your exposed thighs that he’s started to see a little more frequently thanks to warm spring days, and he’s never been more thankful to Mother Nature or your sun dresses. You swallow hard seeing him lick his lips, heart skipping a beat at the glazed over look in his eyes that makes your chest ache.

You have to leave.

”I — uh, I should go.” You stammer, starting to wiggle off the desk but Steve doesn’t let you get very far.

”Wait! Don’t — “ Standing up, the rest of that sentence fades as his hands find your knees, electric currents running through his finger tips that spread them apart so he can fit his hips between your thighs. His eyes hold you inside of them, hooded and begging before finishing it in a whisper. “Don’t leave.”

The two of you sit there unmoving, mouths so close it feels like you’re breathing each other in. His hands inch up your bare thighs, goosebumps pebbling along hot skin as his fingertips brush the bottom hem of your dress.

”Steve.” You manage to murmur, somehow finding your voice. “It’s a bad idea and you know it.”

The protest sounds weak leaving your mouth, especially when the backs of your heels hook and pull him closer. Your hands grip harder at the edge of the desk, needing something to anchor you while the tip of his nose runs up the bridge of yours. The spice of his cologne wraps around you, and the hint of cinnamon mixed with the amber is new.

“What’s so bad about it? Give me one reason.” He mocks your previous challenge with a flash of his teeth, grabbing at the soft fat under his palms.

”Robin.”

“Well she doesn’t have to know.” He snorts like it’s obvious, wandering hands sliding up higher.

”Okay, then what happens if this blows up in our face and we end up hating each other?” Your argument would feel more valid if you weren’t straightening your spine, getting so close to him that your chests touch.

”You really think you can hate me?” He fake pouts with a furrow of his brows, that infamous swoop of hair tickling your forehead.

”Steve! I’m being serious.” You whine a little defeated because you know you’re about to give in, and because all you want is for him to just kiss you already.

You think he knows that too.

He exhales a breath through his nose, one hand finally becoming bold enough to slip under your dress to wrap around your hip, while the other cups the apple your cheek. The pad of his thumb tilts your chin up to keep your gaze on him, lips so close that they almost touch.

”And what if it doesn’t blow up in our face?” He challenges, letting his top lip graze your bottom. “What happens if we end up really liking each other? What then?”

Your lashes flutter, feeling his warm breath kiss your skin, butterflies rioting inside the crevices of your ribcage. Your fingers let go of their death grip on the edge of the desk, and spread over his stomach. He inhales sharply at the contact, his grip on your hip tightening as your palms work their way up his chest before sliding along his neck and into the thickness of his hair at the nape of it. Steve tugs you closer as your legs wrap around his waist, the tip of your nose nudging his warmed cheek.

”Because I don’t know if you can’t tell or something but I already really like you.” He confesses hot against your mouth with the softest brush of his lips. “I have for a while. And you know what I think?”

”Hmm?” You manage with lust clouding your vision and fingers curling into his roots.

”I think you like me too.”

You don’t bother giving the answer he already knows, instead you close what little distance is left. It takes Steve a moment to realize what you’re doing, that this is actually happening but when he does, he takes control of the kiss immediately. His lips feel hungry moving against yours, devouring you like it’s been a craving, claiming your mouth like it’s already his.

A deep groan rumbles from his chest at the feel of your tongue swiping along his bottom lip. The blunt ends of his nails dig into the soft skin of your hip when he opens up for you and they finally meet. They massage each other moving languid and slow, relishing in the feeling. Back bending, your fingers curl deeper in his roots, somehow needing more.

As if he can read your mind, the pad of his thumb tugs at the corner of your mouth, opening you up more. He explores every inch of you like he’s trying to memorize it, swallowing all the sounds that are somehow better than his imagination. Your hips rock against him, the thin cotton of your panties leaving hardly any barrier. A breathy gasp escapes the back of your throat feeling just how big he really is.

Steve takes this moment to catch his breath, pulling away with a heaving chest. He presses his forehead against yours, eyes taking in your flushed cheeks and kiss bitten lips.

“You know how many times I’ve thought about this?” He sighs, the pad of his thumb stroking your cheek. That permanent teasing edge to his voice is absent for the first time tonight.

His confession erupts across your body that bends for him, silently asking for more all on its own. Holding his gaze in the depths of yours, the pointed roll of your hips is slow enough to feel the entire length of him pressed against his zipper. It twitches underneath the metal, the pressure against your clit only covered by a thin pair of cotton earning him a quiet whimper.

”I think about you all the time, Steve.” You say in a low voice, looking at him from under the thick hood of your lashes, rolling your hips again.

“Honey.” He hisses through his teeth, his grip on you tightening hard enough to hold you still. A shiver ripples through him as he desperately tries to find his self control. “We should stop —“

Your hands untangle from his hair, sliding down his jaw that you hold in your palms. The pad of your thumb traces the curve of his full bottom lip that you want nothing more than to feel between your teeth. He inhales another sharp breath watching the way your eyes darken, his thick lashes fluttering kissing the tops of his cheeks like he can read your mind.

”What if I don’t want to stop?”

All you’ve ever done with Steve is hold yourself back. And now that you’ve had him, you don’t want to do it anymore. You can’t do it anymore.

”I’m tired of not getting what I want.” You reaffirm, tilting your head to meet his eyes, brushing your lips against his kiss bitten ones before whispering, “aren’t you?”

He holds your gaze down the slope of his nose, the hand on your hip moving to wrap around the small of your back pulling you close, while the other trails down to cup the side of your neck. The pad of his thumb rests at the hinge of your jaw, a flurry of emotions swirling inside his stare as he takes everything in, making sure he’s not misreading any signs. It’s not until he feels the quiet way you say his name against his lips that he comes back to his body, snapping out of his nervous lapse in judgement of what’s happening.

”You have no fucking idea.” Steve growls, finally capturing your mouth without anything holding him back anymore.

This kiss is different from the last one, his lips move against yours with something possessive behind them — greedy. Your tongues don’t wait for permission, tangling together with an intensity that has your teeth scraping together. Completely lost in months of late nights and lingering stares, his hand slides down your neck, and across your shoulders bringing your dress strap with it. He finishes his path joining his other hand under your dress, both of them meeting and curling around the apple of your ass. Squeezing harshly, he pulls you closer with a hard slam on the wood of the desk.

Moaning into his mouth, you tug at the collar of his sweater, silently urging him to take it off. He catches on quickly, but struggles to break himself free, obsessed with the taste of you — the feel of you in his hands. It’s the whine that peels itself from the back of your throat and the way you push yourself closer searching for friction that he finally pulls himself away with a suck of your bottom lip. Letting it go with a loud pop, the pout on your face turns his lovesick grin cocky as he plucks the collar of his sweater from the back and tosses it to the side of the studio in one fell swoop.

Your lids grow heavy, eyes glazing over at the thick smattering of hair on his chest. Throat drying up at the sight of his permanently sun kissed skin dotted with mini constellations of freckles and moles that your fingers itch to trace. He runs a hand through his hair, drinking in the sight of you too. The wild look on your face with your dress rucked up around your hips, legs spread revealing the wet patch in the middle of your panties that he’s the culprit of. Both straps dangle loosely off your shoulders, leaving just the red ones of your bra, the swell of your breasts teasing him.

“Jesus, I knew you were gonna ruin me.” He mutters to himself in disbelief, slowly walking back to his place between your legs.

His hands trail up your thighs, squeezing at the soft dough under your dress appreciatively with lick of his lips, before curling his fingers around the elastic. It’s the only thing left keeping him from a part of you he’s thought about more times than he’d ever admit.

“Tell me what you want.” He breathes against your lips, brows furrowed with need.

Your fingers find their way to his belt, expertly undoing the gold buckle before popping open the button and tugging down the zipper of his jeans. He hisses at the release as you lift your head, capturing his mouth in something so sure there’s no room left to argue, pulling away just enough to whisper.

”You.”

That’s all Steve needs, yanking your panties down in one swift motion, capturing your lips as he does the same with the straps of your dress. It pools around your lap, just like his jeans do at his feet. Kicking them off along with his shoes, he grabs one of your legs hitching it over his waist, pointedly running his hard covered length along your wet seam. You both moan into each other's mouths at the contact, your fingers tangling in his hair, anchoring yourself to him as he licks into you, rolling his hips again.The way your slick instantly wets the fabric of his briefs makes it feel like he’s teasing himself too.

”I don’t — I don’t have a condom.” He murmurs, using all of his strength to pull away with panic set in his eyes like maybe he’s ruined this whole thing.

Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you let one of your hands slide down his chest, greedily scratching your nails along the dark hair there, before following it down his happy trail. The muscles in his stomach twitch, along with his cock that only grows bigger when you cup it, and the feeling of just how thick he is has you squirming at the thought of making it fit.

“I’m on birth control.” You admit quietly, your fingers dipping into the waist band of his underwear, the tips of them running along his pelvic bone.

”Jesus Christ.” Steve’s eyes pinch closed, the grip on your leg tightening to something almost bruising.

”Is that okay? Do you want to —“

“Yes, yes, god yes, that's okay.” He interrupts with an enthusiastic nod of his head.

Bend bending down, he claims your lips again as your greedy hands push his boxers past his hips. Your touch is tentative wrapping around the weight of him, but the moan you get in return is loud enough to echo off the glass encasing you, encouraging you forward. The first pump has him shuddering underneath your palm, a big hand grabbing your chin, using it to tilt your head to the side. He takes your slow torture out on the base of your throat in the form of open mouthed kisses, dragging his teeth along your pulse point that jumps for him.

“Steve you’re so - you’re so -“

He flattens his tongue, licking a path that has your eyes roll back, killing off the rest of that sentence by latching onto that sensitive spot behind your ear and sucking hard. It’s replaced by a breathy whine that comes out at the same time the pad of your thumb swipes against his leaking tip. He grunts into your neck, hips bucking into your touch.

“I know baby, I know.” He murmurs into your ear, nipping at the lobe before enveloping it into the heat of his mouth, letting it go with a loud pop. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, I promise.”

The endearment has your legs spread wider in a silent plea to keep his word. He smiles wide against your skin, sneaking his hand between you to replace yours that go back to their new home in the hair at the nape of his neck. You decide it’s your favorite place. He pulls away enough for your noses to bump, blown out wild looking eyes meeting yours before they drop down to a view he’s only ever imagined. His mind didn’t even come close to doing it justice.

”Fuuuuck.” He groans to himself, face twisting into something tortured, swiping himself through your glistening folds with another shudder ripping through his spine. “You’re so wet, honey.”

Steve says the last part almost like he can’t believe it, like there’s no world where you’d want him just as bad as he wants you. But when he does it again and you mewl in a way that sounds just as desperate, he knows it's true.

“You’re not the only one who’s wanted this for a long time.” You confess a little shy despite your current position, softening his features with the kind of smile that feels a lot like he’s already smitten.

The pad of his thumb on the hand still wrapped around your hitched leg traces circles on the goose pebbled skin underneath it.

“Yeah?” He sighs, eyes turning heavy bringing himself close enough to fit at your entrance. “Let’s make up for lost time then.”

Your fingers weave tighter in his hair, forehead pressing to his with a slack jaw at the first stretch of your walls. It feels like he’s everywhere, filling you so much as if he has nowhere else to go even though he’s only half way in.

”Oh my god, Steve, you feel — holy shit.” You pant, pulling at his roots so hard you know it hurts as he pushes himself to the hilt with one final stroke.

”You’re doing so good though, look at you.” His praise comes out against your lips, the tip of his nose nudging against your cheek. He feels the way his words tighten around him, a new wave of arousal coating every ridge and dip.

Steve gives you a minute to adjust to the size, only starting to move when you lean forward to steal a messy kiss. Desperation evident in the encouraging swipe of your tongue. He starts off slow, rolling his hips in languid strokes that match the way he licks into your mouth basking in the little noises escaping from the back of your throat. It’s not until you nip at his bottom lip that he lets go the way he really wants too.

Breaking away from your lips, he brings his attention to your face, needing to see the way it twists up when he pulls nearly all the way out before slamming himself back in. Your eyes go wide at the feeling, the silk of your walls fluttering, begging him for more that he gives without any hesitation. His palm finds it way back to your cheek that has to be searing against his skin, collecting your mouth again with a hunger that’s easy to lose yourself in.

He keeps a steady pace, hiking your leg further up his hip, somehow going even deeper. The tip of him hits the spot that no one else has ever been able to find, earning a loud moan of his name that he thinks sounds best when it comes from you. Using the opportunity that presents itself to him, he starts a path of open mouth kisses down your jaw, along your neck, gently pushing you back to lay against the desk, peppering them across your collar bone.

The new angle has you trying to cover the scream that's begging to fill the empty studio, and Steve keeps going. Tugging down your bra, sucks your pert nipple into the heat of his mouth. Your back arches, nails dinging into his shoulders when he brings his attention to the other one with a flick of his tongue.

“Perfect, you’re perfect.” Groaning his praise against your skin, he licks a stripe up your sternum before nipping at the curve of your breast.

Steve stands up straight, bringing his hands to your hips stretching you out even more. His eyes take in your heaving chest, dark eyes, and skin shining wet from the work of his mouth and he thinks he might cum right now.

”You ready for more, pretty girl?” He coos with the softest grind of hips, lips twitching at the way your eyes hit the back of your head because of it.

”Please.” You beg, finding the strength to look at him from underneath your lashes.

Your stare breaks any self control he might have left, the first snap of his hips pushing you further up the desk, sending some of the eight tracks clattering to the ground.

“Oh my god.” You cry out, grabbing onto his forearms. The blunt ends of your nails digging into his freckles when he does it again.

”You feel so fucking good.” He grits out between his teeth, the grip on your curves turning bruising as his head rolls back lost in the silk of your walls that keep sucking him in every time he tries to leave.

His praise makes your hips meet the next roll of his, sending another flurry of cuss words spilling out of his mouth, that turn into your name the more you keep up with his pace. Tugging you back to the edge of the desk, he folds over you, palms finding purchase on either side of your head.

That swoop of hair tickles damp against your forehead, his face contouring into something dazed watching the way you try to catch your breath. The quick grind of his hips punches the air out of your lungs with every thrust, the thick thatch of hair at the base of your demise rubbing against your clit with just the right of pressure.

You know you're not going to last much longer as the heels of your feet dig into his ass pushing him deeper. He grunts into your mouth, collecting a sloppy kiss rolling his hips in a circle, the tip of him pushing right against the spot you need him most.

“Come on, honey, let go. I know you want to. Let me finally make you feel good.” He murmurs encouragingly, grabbing both your wrists and pinning them above your head, sending a notebook and some pens flying to the ground.

The new position tightens the coil deep inside your gut tight enough to snap, your walls constricting around him as you tumble over the edge with nothing but his name spilling from your lips. Seeing something he’s only ever daydreamed about in the dead of night sends him flying right after you. He lets go of your hands catching himself on the desk, body shaking with a loud groan rumbling from his chest painting your insides with months of wanting you so much that it aches in his chest.

He keeps up the slow grind of his hips until you both come back down, with goofy love sick smiles twisting up your lips. You giggle when he nudges his nose with yours, getting a blinding flash of his white teeth in return.

“What?” Amusement dances in his eyes, brushing the apple of your cheek with the back of his hand.

”This just isn’t where I imagined it would finally happen is all.” You grin, leaning into his touch. “So out in the open.”

”It’s not like anyone’s here —“

”Steve, look, I’m sorry.” The sound of Robin’s voice echoes out through the empty station.

”Oh fuck me.” He yells in a whisper, wide panicked eyes meeting yours before dropping to the ground out of sight. You try your best to adjust your bra and dress into place.

“You know I hate when we figh— oh.” Robin stops in her tracks in the common room, confusion painting her features taking in your disheveled look and the lack of Steve in the room.

“H-hey!” You squeak out, voice cracking and she narrows her gaze at it.

”Where’s Steve?” She asks, the question coming out slowly in that suspicious kind of way.

”Uh - he uh - he went to the bathroom.” You offer, scratching the back of your neck while the man in question scrambles to get his clothes back on at your feet.

Tilting her head to the side, she squints at you clearly not believing a word coming out of your mouth. Realization dawns on her features, annoyance replacing any confusion that was left.

”You have got to be kidding me!” She throws up her hands, “Steve I know you’re there. You guys suck at lying.”

”Shit.” Steve mutters, pulling on his shirt before slowly standing up, buckling his belt with a sheepish smile.

”Hey.” He waves, running a hand through his damp hair.

So much for not telling Robin.

[kassy-djomunson]

the hottest thing a man can do and it’s just joe tucking his hair behind his ear

via djohearts on tiktok 💕

[drippingsteve]

That Look

Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female! Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Best friend! Steve, not canon-compliant in any way lmao, alcohol use, cigarettes/weed (implied), random Canada mention, making out, oral (f receiving), fingering, P-in-V sex, come everywhere!

A/N: This is my longest work yet!! I’m a sucker for a good friends-to-lovers fic, especially with Steve <333. I spent SO LONG writing and editing this, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do!! Xoxo

“Shots!” Robin yells when she finally gets everyone into the kitchen. You, Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, Vickie, and Eddie form a wobbly circle around the kitchen island as Robin pours shot after shot. 

It’s her birthday, and she and Steve are hosting a little get-together at their place.  

“Tequila, Rob, really?” You groan. “You know how I feel about tequila.” 

“C’mon,” Eddie chimes in. “Tequila is fun!” 

“Yes, it is, Eddie,” Robin agrees and sets down the bottle. “And, it’s my birthday, so you shall all take tequila shots with me!” she commands regally. 

Steve nudges you. “Never known you to turn down a shot.” 

“I’ll do it if you do it,” you cock an eyebrow at him. You’ve been saying the same thing to him for years. 

“You’re on,” he responds and picks up a shot glass. You all take the shot together, and a chorus of groans and coughs fills the room as the liquor burns your throat. 

“Disgusting,” you shiver and chase the tequila with the drink in your hand, Steve laughing at you. 

“C’mon, let’s go mingle.” Robin tugs you away from the kitchen and towards the living room, but you look back at Steve for a second, capturing his eyes. 

Robin brings you to the living room, where you get to meet all of her lovely coworkers and see Vickie’s party trick involving quarters and a glass bottle. 

You all watch in awe, cheering for her after she completes the trick. You drain the rest of your drink and head to the bathroom to relieve your bladder. 

After you’re done, you stand in front of the mirror, giving yourself a good look. Your hair falls perfectly, and the necklace hanging around your neck plunges into the neckline of your black top.

Yes. You look great, which is perfect, because tonight’s the night. You’re going to tell Steve how you feel, make a move on him somehow. So much has led up to this moment, and you know tonight will bring a change to your life–for better or for worse. 

You shake out your hands and exit the bathroom, finding Robin by the window and walking up to her. “Hey, birthday girl. How’s it going?” 

“Oh, it's great. I’m so happy! Everyone I love is here.” She gestures to the scene in front of her.

You scan the room with your eyes and take a mental inventory. Eddie and Jonathan are looking through a magazine, Vickie and Nancy are taking shots with Robin’s coworkers, Steve’s talking to a girl.

Wait, what? Steve is talking to a girl?

You snap your eyes back to Robin. “Uh… who is that? Talking to Steve?” you ask, trying to sound as unbothered as possible. 

She smirks. “Why, you jealous?” 

You scoff. “No, what-why would you think that? I’m not jealous.” You shake your head. 

“You’re so jealous. That’s my coworker, Ashley. She’s really nice.” 

“Yeah, and really hot.” You say under your breath, fixing your hair. 

“Oh, come on. You have nothing to be worried about. You look sexy.” She gestures down your body. 

“Worried? I’m fine. I don’t even care.” A drunken blush creeps over your face.

“He’s just friendly. They’re probably talking about narwhals, or something. Besides, he only has eyes for you,” she assures, lowering her voice. “It’s annoying, really. You guys are like, completely in love, and you’re both too stubborn to admit it.” 

“I was gonna say something tonight,” you admit quietly. “If that’s okay with you.” 

“Okay with me? That would be the greatest birthday gift a girl could ask for! Keep me updated.”

You nod, and she slips away from you, going to join the girls in the kitchen. “Ashley, c’mon! Shots in the kitchen!” She tugs Ashley up on her way. Robin is quite the wingman. 

You turn to look out the window, gazing down at the street below you for a moment. Steve’s with a girl. You allow yourself to feel the disappointment that washes over you despite Robin’s reassurance. 

“Feeling inquisitive?” You hear Steve’s voice behind you and turn to lean against the windowsill, looking up at him.

“Inquisitive? That’s a big word for you,” you tease, the smile on your lips masking your dismay. 

He scoffs. “I know big words.” 

You give him a doubtful look. “Okay, fine.” He sighs. “Jonathan taught me an hour ago.” 

You burst out laughing, leaning forward and bracing your hands on your knees. 

“So what are you up to? Just looking out the window longingly? I saw you talking to Robin. Looked real serious.” 

“It wasn’t serious. We were just talking about… our plans for the night.” You finish confidently, standing up straight. “Starting with another drink.” You brush past him, empty red solo cup in hand. 

He follows you to the kitchen, and you pour a drink for him and one for yourself. 

You sip the drink beside Eddie as he tells you about his upcoming gig. You and Steve have been separated again, this time by Jonathan, who wanted to “show something” to Steve outside. Definitely an excuse to go smoke. 

Vickie brings the cake in, bumping into Eddie, who spills his drink on you. “Shit, sorry! I’m the worst,” he groans, rushing to get you paper towels. Luckily, the cake is spared, but your shirt is soaked. 

“It’s okay, Eddie. I promise. I’m gonna go change in Steve’s room. I’ll be right back!” You turn and head toward Steve’s door. 

You knock–no answer. You turn the handle and go in, looking around. You’ve been in his room countless times, so you ignore your surroundings and head straight to his closet. You pull off your shirt, and it lands on the floor with a wet smack, leaving you in your bra. 

You rifle through the hanging shirts, looking for his familiar yellow sweater. “Where is it?” you mutter, flipping through shirts faster. 

The door swings open, and Steve enters. “Are you good? I saw-” he’s cut off by your shriek as you turn to face him. 

“Steve! What are you doing?” 

“This is my room,” he reminds you. “Where’s your shirt?” 

“Eddie spilled his drink on it. Not his fault, really. I came in here to change. I’m looking for that yel…” You trail off when you realize Steve is wearing the sweater. “That. The one you’re wearing.” 

“This?” He tugs on the sweater. “You want it?” 

“Yeah,” you laugh, “but you’re wearing it. It’s fine, I’ll wear this.” You blindly grab the closest shirt to you. 

“You wanna wear my Hawkins High basketball jersey?” He cocks an eyebrow at you before pulling his shirt over his head. 

You let your eyes trail over his arms, his chest, the trail of hair leading down his stomach. 

“Stare, much?” he asks, pushing the shirt toward you. “C’mon, I know you like this one.” 

You take it, unable to keep the smile off your face as you pull it on. It smells faintly of cigarettes and weed, but you don’t mind. The cuffs hang low over your hands, and you shimmy them up as he grabs a polo from his closet and puts it on. 

“Now I’m wearing the shirt you were just wearing. People are gonna think-” 

“They’re not gonna think anything they don’t already think.” He interrupts. “What’s up with you?” 

“Nothing,” you respond quickly. 

It’s clear he doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t want to push it. “Good. The night is young, or whatever. C’mon,” he grabs your hand and pulls you out of his room. 

You meet up with the rest of the party, watching Robin cut the cake. You enjoy a slice and finish the drink you started with Eddie, who winks at you after noticing the outfit change.

You’re three drinks in now and feeling good. You’re not messy yet, but you feel lighter and more confident. Focused, even, on the most important thing in the room: Steve. 

His arms look amazing in that shirt. You think he knows it, too, from the way his muscles contract as he runs a hand through his hair. He’s got you hooked on every movement, eyes wide as you watch him. 

Robins pulls everyone together for a few rounds of truth or dare, and you sit on the floor beside Steve. He’s up first, and the group dares him to do a cartwheel. 

“What? I can’t do a cartwheel!” he complains, throwing his hands in the air. 

“Cartwheel or drink.” Eddie chirps. 

“I’ll drink,” Steve grumbles and reaches for the tequila. 

You’re next, and you choose dare. Robin holds up a sharpie. “Let Steve give you a tramp stamp,” she giggles, waving it around. 

You roll your eyes. “Fine. Nothing dirty.” You point your finger at him warningly. He takes the marker as you turn, leaning over. 

You feel his warm hand lift the sweater and rest on your back as the tip of the marker presses against you, scrawling a shape. A shiver runs up your spine, and you can’t believe you’re getting turned on from a sharpie tattoo. 

After a moment, he pulls away. “Done. And it looks great, if I do say so myself.”

You turn to show it off to the group, eliciting oohs and ahhs and laughter from the circle. 

“What is it?” You crane your neck to try and see it, but no luck. 

“It’s a heart with an arrow through it.” Steve grins, gesturing to his work. 

“Classic,” you laugh, settling back into your seat. He leans back, bracing his arm on the floor behind you. You lean into him, looking up at him for a moment as Eddie chooses dare.

The sight of Eddie trying to lick his own foot is funny enough to send you into a fit of laughter. He eventually gets it done, and Robin takes her turn.

You miss the dare because all you can focus on is the scent of Steve’s cologne. He put it on in front of you hours ago, and you’ve been chasing it all night. Now, you’re not sure if it’s coming from him or the sweater of his you’re wearing, but you don’t care as long as it doesn’t go away. 

The game goes on for a while longer, round after round, until Robin yawns and decides to call it a night. “You’re all welcome to stay on the couch or floor! Drive safe if you’re not gonna stay. And thanks for coming!” She beams before pulling Vickie off to bed. 

Robin’s coworkers filter out along with Jonathan and Nancy, but Eddie decides to crash on the couch. 

“Can I sleep with you?” You look up at Steve as the two of you collect the cups littered around the kitchen. 

“Course you can,” he tosses a cup into the trash. “Been plannin’ on it.” 

Planning on it? What does that mean? Is he flirting with you? 

“C’mon, let’s go to bed. We can finish in the morning.” He pulls you away from the kitchen by your hand, warmth spreading in your chest. 

You slip into his room, and he closes the door behind you. You’re still buzzing, having downed a fourth drink in truth or dare when you refused to drink ketchup. 

You’ve seen at least four different drinks in Steve’s hand tonight, not to mention his trip outside with Jonathan. 

“How was your night tonight?” you prompt, stumbling out of your jeans and into the sleep shorts you packed earlier. 

“Fantastic. Nine out of ten,” he responds.

“Oh yeah? Where’d it lose a point?” 

“Well, we haven’t gone to bed yet,” he states simply, pulling off his shirt. You pull your lip between your teeth to avoid the eager grin that threatens to creep onto your face. 

You turn, and he’s standing a foot away from you. Your breath hitches. He’s standing too close to be friendly. 

“What’s up?” You manage as you gaze up at him, eyes tracing his features. 

“There’s that look again.” His eyes meet yours and flicker down to your lips so fast you’re sure you must have hallucinated it. 

“What? What look? I’m not giving you a look,” you babble, the tequila and tension impeding your clarity.

“That look. You’ve been looking at me like that all night. Like you’ve got somethin’ to tell me.” 

He’s got you all figured out, and there’s no sense in denying it.

“I… I do have something to tell you. But I’m drunk,” you say quietly.  “Shouldn’t be making any confessions.” 

“Well then let me ask you something.” He steps even closer, taking your hand in his and placing it flat on his chest. 

You trace a slow figure eight over his skin, parting your lips slightly. “What is it?” Your heart beats so fast in your chest you wonder if he can hear it.  

“Do you have any idea what it does to me when you look at me like that?” He whispers, and you close the remaining distance.

You and Steve haven’t kissed since high school, but it feels so familiar. He tastes like tequila, and it’s suddenly your drink of choice. Your lips work against his, hand sliding through the hair on his chest. 

You pull away, not wanting to overstay your welcome, but he pulls you back in with a hand on the back of your head. 

When he’s satisfied, he breaks the kiss slowly, lips glistening with spit. 

You’re at a loss for words. Did he know you were going to say something tonight? Did you really just kiss your best friend? How long has he been feeling the same way? 

He answers your question despite it not leaving your lips. “I’ve been waiting to kiss you for so long.” 

“Me too,” you breathe out. His lips are on yours again before you can jump with joy. You settle for wrapping your arms around his neck and tangling your fingers into his hair. 

You can’t believe Steve is kissing you like this–for years, the two of you have been dodging the best-friends-in-love allegations, even if you were secretly pining. 

Now, there’s no doubt about the way Steve feels about you. He kisses you as if he needs your lips to survive.  

His tongue slides along your bottom lip, and you open your mouth for him. You back him slowly toward the bed until he’s seated. You follow the kiss, climbing onto the bed and straddling his lap. 

His hands wander up and down your back as he moves his kisses to your neck. “Is this okay?” he murmurs against the skin there. 

“Yes. More than okay.” His lips explore various spots on your neck, finding one under your ear that makes your breath hitch. 

He slips a hand beneath your shirt, sliding it up your side. “Can I take this off?” 

You nod, helping him pull the yellow sweater over your head. It’s discarded to the floor next to the damp shirt from earlier. 

“We don’t have to do anything.” His eyes meet yours. “Just wanna kiss you.” 

You melt at his words, leaning in again. This time, you pull his bottom lip between your teeth and pull away teasingly. He stares at you in awe before grabbing your waist and flipping you, pinning you beneath him. 

With his strong arms on either side of your head and his face looming over yours, you feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven. You think about telling Steve how many times you’ve dreamt of this.  

He kisses you again, rolling his tongue against yours. You feel him reaching above you, and he slides one of his pillows under your head. You moan appreciatively into his mouth, wrapping your legs around him. 

“Steve,” you coo. “Want your hands on me. Please.” 

“Fuck, am I dreaming?” He braces himself on one arm, bicep flexing, and runs his free hand down your waist, squeezing your hip. You take his hand in yours, guiding his fingers up to the little clasp at the front of your bra. 

His breath fans across your neck as he pops the clasp open, kissing the exposed skin as he pulls the bra off of you. 

His movements aren’t rushed at all. They’re steady. Decisive. And you’re watching him closely, committing everything he does to memory.

He licks one of your nipples before wrapping his lips around it, sucking hard enough to elicit a whimper from you. 

Your body hums with need, electricity coursing through you. His hand slides under the hem of your shorts, looking up at you for permission. You nod quickly, and he wastes no time removing them.

He plants kisses down your chest and belly, landing on the bow at the front of your underwear. You bite your lip, unable to contain your excitement. You’ve thought about this very moment many times, alone at night while you touch yourself. 

Sure, you’ve heard rumors about Steve. You’ve listened intently to girls at school talking about his demeanor, his size, the sinful things he can do with his tongue. 

He puts on a show for you, pulling your panties down with his teeth before tossing them to the floor to join the growing pile of crumpled clothing. You spread your legs for him, and he kisses you just above your clit. 

“I thought about this while I was in the shower this morning,” he admits. “Just wanted to taste you. Make you feel good.” He licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit slowly, savoring you. 

You let your head fall back on the pillow, envisioning him in the shower as he laps at your clit. You wonder if he touched himself, made himself come on the shower wall to the thought of you.

 “Steve,” you moan, tangling your fingers into his hair. 

You don’t expect yourself to come–you never have with a partner–but when he delves his tongue into you, nose nudging your clit, you keen and reconsider. 

“Ah, fuck. Do that again,” you plead, tugging on his hair. He must like that because he repeats the motion several times, humming against you. 

You cry out when he sucks on your clit, and he abruptly pulls away, kissing your lower stomach. His big brown eyes look up at you. “You better be quiet, baby, or everyone’s gonna know what I’m doin’ to you.” 

You pant. “O-okay. I’ll be quiet. So quiet.” You nod fervently, eager to have his mouth back on you. “Please don’t stop.” 

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he laps at you. You feel his fingers tease your entrance, circling it. “Do you like this?” he asks against you. 

You nod again. “Yes. Please,” you whisper in an effort to stay quiet. He slides two fingers into you slowly and curls them in a way that makes it impossible to stop the gasp that escapes your lips.  

He strokes that spot inside of you repeatedly, tongue never ceasing. You writhe against the bed, thighs tightening around his head until he pushes them back apart with his free hand. 

His bedroom fills with a symphony of your heavy, unsteady breathing and the squelch of his fingers moving inside you.  

You have no time to warn him that you’re close before you come over his fingers, pulling on his hair and letting a whimper leave your lips. 

He helps you ride it out, slowing his motions until your legs are trembling. “I- I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to come,” you breathe. 

He sits up, face wet with your arousal. “Why are you sorry? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“Well, now you’re… all wet.” You gesture to his face.

He chuckles, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I’m right where I wanna be. Gonna jerk off to that later.” 

He kneels between your legs, kissing you sweetly. You can taste yourself on him, and it spurs you on as you scrape your nails over his back. “I really liked when you called me baby,” you say shyly against his mouth. 

“Yeah?” His nose grazes yours. “I’ll keep calling you that then, baby.” Fireworks explode in your chest as he kisses you again. 

You hum into the kiss, taking a second to ground yourself. You’re lying naked on Steve’s bed. And he’s here. Between your legs. After making you come with his mouth. 

But you’re not done. 

You break the kiss to whisper up at him, lips shiny with his spit. “Are we… Are you gonna fuck me?” 

“Fuck,” he swallows. “Do you want me to?” 

You nod, reaching for the button of his jeans. He kneels, unzipping them for you, and you slip your hand in, palming the impressive tent in his boxers. His eyes flutter shut, head tipping back as you rub over him. 

You’ve been friends with Steve long enough to know that he’s hung. Robin teases him about it, but you prefer to think about it in the privacy of your bedroom.

“So big, Steve.” You wrap your fingers around him through the fabric. His mouth hangs open in pleasure, neck craned to watch your hand move over him. 

He stands to kick off his jeans and boxers, and you sit up on the bed, gawking at him. “How do you want me?” you ask excitedly, wrapping your hand around his cock again and stroking him. 

“Lay down, baby. Wanna see your face.” He lays you back, sliding the pillow under your head once more. Chivalry isn’t dead. 

You spread your legs in anticipation as he grabs a condom from his nightstand and rolls it on. “Can’t believe I get to do this,” he breathes, his heavy cock resting against you. “Y’gonna be quiet for me?” 

You nod, eager to do anything to please him. 

“God, you’re perfect,” he groans, dragging his cock between your folds. “Tell me if you wanna stop, okay?” 

“Okay,” you reply, and his hair dangles in front of you as he looks down at where your bodies meet. 

He slips through your folds a few more times, spreading the wetness over you. Then, he pushes the tip in slowly, eyes snapping up to your face to watch your reaction. 

The stretch is a lot at first, but it’s more pleasurable than painful, and you shift your hips as he slides into you fully. 

He begins to thrust into you deliberately, dragging against spots no one else has reached. You bury your face into his neck, sputtering little noises against him as he moves faster. 

“Still feeling good, baby?” he rasps, and you clench around him. 

“Mhm. Don’t stop.” You plant kisses over his neck, grazing your nails over his shoulders. 

Your body is on fire, and every movement he makes fuels it. You find it impossible to keep quiet as he drives into you, so you dig your nails deeper into his back, drawing gasps from him.  

“Steve,” you whine. “Feels s’good.”

“Oh yeah? Y’being so good for me.” Fuck. The mouth on Steve doesn’t surprise you, and it sends you hurtling toward your second orgasm. 

“M’gonna come again,” you warn, and his thrusts keep a steady pace as his lips envelop yours, quieting your moans. 

You kiss him back as best as you can, but it’s messy and wet, and your grip on his shoulders tightens as you fall apart. You tremble as you pulse around him, warmth exploding across your body.

Steve Steve Steve Steve Steve is all that fills your mind as you lie back, letting him have his way with you. 

“Steve,” you moan. “Want you to come,” you urge weakly, hands sliding down his arms. 

“Can I come on you?” he asks, his voice wrecked. 

The thought of Steve jerking himself off over you, covering you with his come, stirs something deep inside you. “God, yes, please,” you beg. 

He pulls out, tearing the condom off and stroking himself, face screwed up in pleasure. You watch eagerly as beads of come spurt out of him, landing over your stomach and chest. 

He comes for what feels like ages, and when he’s finally spent, he sighs, letting his head fall back. 

The two of you take a moment to catch your breath, the room eerily quiet otherwise. 

“Fuck,” he huffs. “That was…” he trails off, but his eyebrows crease thoughtfully. 

You laugh. “Are you thinking of a big word right now?” 

“Superb,” he finishes, looking proud of himself. 

“Mmm, it was superb,” you agree. “Do you think Robin heard? Or Eddie?” You push yourself up on your hands, sitting up to look at him. 

“Maybe,” he shrugs, “but I think they’ll be happy if they did.”

“Robin’s been wanting us to get together,” you admit, a shy smile creeping over your face. “I told her I liked you like, forever ago.” 

“How long ago?” he asks, intrigued. 

“Um…” you think it over. “Like, six months.” And then he’s leaning in and kissing you, running his fingers through your hair. 

He pulls away just enough. “I told her a year ago,” he whispers against your lips.

“What?” You pull away, shocked. 

“Yup. Right after we went to Canada.” He pulls you back in, your naked chest pressing to his. He doesn’t seem to mind the fact that you’re covered in his come and it’s on him now, too. You would be disgusted if it wasn’t Steve. 

“Only,” he adds, looking into your eyes. “I didn’t tell her that I liked you. I told her I was in love with you.” 

His admission hits you in the chest, warm and heavy. “Steve,” you flush, looking down at the clothes pile in the center of the room.  

Then, you meet his gaze again. “I love you. And I wanna be with you.” 

His smug expression makes you want to smack him. “So, does that mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you answer, grinning now. 

“Our first order of business as a couple is taking a shower,” he tells you before kissing you again, softly this time. 

—

When you wake up in the morning, Steve’s arms are wrapped around you, spooning you like he’s afraid you’ll escape. Sunlight shoots through the cracks in his blinds, and his steady breath on your neck tells you he’s still asleep. 

You take it all in for a minute, relishing the warm feel of him against you. 

When you grow impatient, you stroke your hand over his arm, shifting your body slowly to get up without waking him. 

You stand and get a good look at him, and he’s so peaceful. Your eyes wander over the curve of his nose, the stubble on his jaw, the way his arms reach out on the empty bed. 

You can’t suppress a giggle when you notice the sharpie smudged on his stomach from the tattoo he gave you during truth or dare. 

Steve stirs, hand sliding over the warm, empty spot on the bed. When he realizes you’re not there, he groans softly and sits up, eyes opening. 

“Morning,” you greet him, standing at the edge of the bed. 

“Mmm, what are you doing? What time is it? Come back to bed,” he mumbles groggily, hooking his arm around your waist and pulling you down onto the bed with him. 

You slide into his arms again, accepting the warmth his body radiates. 

“It’s almost eight. Let’s go clean the kitchen before Robin wakes up.” 

“Okay,” he agrees. “In five minutes.” His hand slides lazily over your waist before dragging your leg over his hip, kneading your thigh. 

“Five minutes.” You run your fingers through his hair, flattening it. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Ideas like what?” he hums into your neck, throwing the covers over you. “You’re freezing, baby. I’m just keepin’ you warm.”

And you let him keep you warm for five more minutes, not yet worrying about what the future holds.

[drippingsteve]

GOD I AM WRITING SOMETHING SO FILTHY RN

hopefully coming tmr

[drippingsteve]

Pull Over

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female! Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Smut (18+), P in V sex (protected), dryhumping, praise kink, semi-public sex (parked car), softdom! Steve (kinda), WAP! reader lmao

A/N: This is definitely my favorite piece of writing so far. Very very filthy so if you know me I’m sorry. Let me know what you think! Enjoy xoxo

You tease Steve all through dinner.

It starts with you grazing your heel-adorned foot over his calf under the table as you sip your drink. You don’t miss the way he straightens slightly in his seat, leaning toward you. 

“How was your day today?” You smile sweetly at him, setting your drink down. 

“No complaints. Kids were good. They all turned in their final projects, which I wasn’t expecting.” He laughs. “One of them wrote a song about abstinence that I can’t wait to hear.”

“It would do you some good to listen to that song,” you tease, cocking an eyebrow. 

He rolls his eyes in response. “C’mon, I didn’t hear you complaining after our last date.” 

That shuts you up, and you sip your drink again as the two of you exchange a knowing glance. How could you forget? He nearly drilled you into the mattress, and you came four times– your personal record. 

You’re fantasizing about what the night has in store for you when his voice snaps you back to reality. 

“How was your day, gorgeous?” He prompts, taking your hand in his across the table. You begin telling him about your day, tracing figures into the palm of his hand. Your fingers meander to the inside of his wrist, swiping over the band of his watch before you let your hand rest in his again.  

After you’ve finished your food and seduced him thoroughly, Steve slips a wad of cash into the little black book and helps you up from your seat. 

In the alley outside the restaurant, he pulls you close for a minute so he can murmur in your ear. “I know what you’re doing.” Goosebumps form on your arms at the tone in his voice.  

“Hmm?” You play dumb, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

He wastes no time pressing you against the cool brick and planting a hot kiss to your mouth. You pull him closer as he kisses from your ear to your collarbone. “Lookin’ all pretty for me. Turnin’ me on in the restaurant. I know what you want, baby.” 

The pet name goes straight between your legs. “And what are you gonna do about it?” 

He straightens up, looking down at you as he slides a hand over your waist. “I’m gonna take y’home, if you’ll have me.” 

You nod, suppressing a grin as you slip your hand into his and lead the way to his car. He opens the door for you, and you shoot him a mischievous look through the windshield as he walks around the car. 

You admire him, eyes flitting over his hand, his arm, his irresistible face. The key turns, and you’re off. 

You haven’t even reached the first stop sign before his hand is on the inside of your thigh, pinky slipping beneath your skirt. You take the opportunity to slide your hand up his arm, squeezing his bicep. 

“You’re so strong, Steve,” you purr, and the grip on your thigh tightens. His gaze slips away from the road to you for just a second to take you in. 

They snap back to the road, and the knuckles on his left hand turn white against the steering wheel. “Keep talkin’ like that, and we’re not gonna make it home.” 

The tension in the car settles over you, and you rub your thighs together in an attempt to do something about it. He kneads your thigh, eyes still steady on the road, but you catch the way the corners of his lips turn up in a smirk. 

You don’t know whether Steve is taking you to yours or his, but you’re still about ten minutes out either way. You look around, observing the empty road, and decide that you can’t wait any longer. 

“Pull over,” you plead, and he does as you ask, tires crunching against the gravel on the side of the road as they roll into the nearby pull-off.

“You okay?” He shifts the car into park, his hand sliding off your thigh. 

“No.” You sit up in your seat, leaning over the center console. “Need you to kiss me. Please.” 

He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, cupping your face with his hand. His thumb roams over your chin before swiping over your bottom lip, and you waste no time sucking it into your mouth. 

“So pretty,” he whispers, but it’s loud in the otherwise silent car. “Can’t say no when you ask me like that.”

Soon enough, he’s pulling you in and kissing you. It’s slow and soft at first, but when your fingers grip the collar of his shirt, his tongue slides against yours. You moan into his mouth, spurring him on. 

If there was any doubt about where the night was going to take you, it dissolves quickly when he mutters, “C’mere,” and pulls you across the center console. 

You settle in his lap. It’s a little cramped, but you don’t mind the door digging into your leg when he’s kissing you like this. 

His hands find your hips, grinding you down on him, and you feel his hard length press against you. “See what you do to me?” 

You nod, letting your head hang as you grind against him again, letting out a moan this time. 

You kiss him again, pressing your chest to his as you roll against him, desperate for any friction you can get. Every movement has your body on fire, and you think you could come just like this. 

Steve sees how good you’re feeling–how you moan into his mouth and writhe against him, and he urges you on. He pulls you against him, pushing his hips into yours at your pace. 

You know that any second a car could drive by–the police, even. It’s not even that late, actually. The fear brings more urgency to the situation, and you move faster against him. 

You’re so turned on that Steve can feel the dampness seeping through the clothing separating you. 

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling away to look at you while continuing his motions. “Want you to come.” 

“M’so close,” you whine, legs starting to tremble above him. You catch his eyes, and the desire behind them sends you over the edge. You writhe above him as his hands explore your hips and back. 

Your hips slow to a stop, and he moans against your lips as he kisses you. He’s hard beneath you, cock straining against his jeans in a way that you know must be painful. You move to unbutton them, trailing your kisses down his jaw and neck. 

He helps you pull his jeans down, freeing him. “Need you so bad,” you breathe, wrapping your fingers around him and stroking him slowly. “Been waiting for this all week.” 

“So have I,” he responds, eyes fixed on the movement of your hand. “Condoms in the glove box, can you reach?”

You turn and open the glove box, pulling out a brand new package. You wave it in front of him. “Fresh pack, just for me?” you ask teasingly, opening it. 

“M’not seeing anyone else,” he responds, squeezing your hip. After a moment, he asks, “Are you?”  

You shake your head, your face flushing. Then, you smirk. “In the glovebox? Were you expecting this? Here?” You raise your eyebrows. 

“Well, I had a feeling something might happen, and safety first, right?” He takes the condom from you, opening it and rolling it on with ease. 

“Right.” You bite your lip, hovering over him. He pushes your skirt up your hips, crudely yanking your panties to the side to get a good look at you. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” He rubs his cock from your entrance to your clit and back, collecting your slick.

You expect him to slide into you, to give you that delicious feeling of being stretched out, but he doesn’t. He continues to tease you, sliding between your folds and basking in the feeling. 

When he finally enters you, you sink down on him slowly, breath catching when he grazes the spot only he has ever reached. You start to ride him, thighs burning but unable to stop.

“I’ve been hard since dinner,” he moans, sliding his left hand up your shirt to cup your tit. “That’s what you wanted, right?” 

You try to answer, or at least think about answering, but you only stutter out a moan as he starts fucking up into you. 

“C’mon, answer me.” He grabs your jaw with his other hand, directing you to face him. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

“Yes!” you cry. 

“Good girl,” he praises, releasing your face and sliding his hand down to rub your clit with his thumb. He feels you clench around him as you ride him faster, panting. 

“Oh, y’like when I call you that? My good girl?” 

You moan, nodding into his shoulder as you let your head drop again. You’re dripping down his balls now, pulsing around him.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Y’gonna come again?” His thumb continues circling your clit as you fuck yourself on him. 

“Mhm,” you whine into his neck. “Fuck, please don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop baby. Gonna come with you,” he pants. “Kiss me.” 

You turn your head to kiss him messily, one hand on his chest and the other behind you, bracing yourself on his thigh. He licks into your mouth, rocking his hips into yours and rubbing your clit until you come undone. 

You shudder, breaking the kiss to moan loudly into the car as you ride out your orgasm. He’s right behind you, flooding the condom and grazing his teeth over your shoulder with a muffled moan. 

“Shit,” he pants, his head falling back against the headrest as he slips out of you. “We made a mess.” You look down between you, both covered in your sticky release.

“Don’t worry,” you giggle into his neck. “Saw some tissues in the glove box next to the condoms.” 

He rolls his eyes, reaching in and grabbing a stack of them. He wipes you up first as best he can before he does the same to himself, leaving the tissues and used condom on the mat by his feet. 

“Gross.” You scrunch up your nose. 

“Gross? That’s all you, babe,” he teases as you settle back into your seat and fix your clothes. “Wanna spend the night? We’ll swing by yours and get some stuff. You can keep showin’ me how good you are.” He winks, and you blush all over again. 

You wonder if you’ll break your orgasm record tonight.

[chestharrington]

For A Good Time Call! || Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 14.6k

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Phone Sex Hotline Operator!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (phone sex, m & f masturbation (including pillow humping & sex toys), f!receiving oral sex, p in v sex), language, idiots in love, mutual pining, porn WITH plot

Summary: In the Summer of 1985, Steve's social standing is at an all time low. In an act of sheer, pathetic desperation, he calls a phone sex hotline. Little does he know, his dream girl from the hotline is just an escalator away.

Steve Harrington wasn’t the kind of guy who did this. He repeated it in his head as he scribbled down the phone number— fed straight to him from a local late-night advertisement. For a good time call!

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what that meant. And he wasn’t exactly able to ignore the way his dick twitched in his boxers as the commercial showed pretty girls twirling phone lines around manicured fingers, pretty smiles on their faces, eyes sultry and staring right through him. 

Plus, he wasn’t actually going to call. He was just… keeping the number for his records. He’d just put it in his Rolodex and forget about it. 

A week later, and he decidedly hadn’t forgotten about it. In fact, with the house empty and playboys not cutting it, it’s all he could think about. 

For a good time call. He wanted to have a good time. It had been a while since he had a good time— his stupid Scoops Ahoy uniform wasn’t exactly bolstering his natural charm. Robin could say what she wanted, but he was charming and fun and everything people usually want in a boyfriend. He was just… going through a rough patch. 

He retrieved his Rolodex and hurriedly flipped through, trying to remember where he’d hidden the number. Definitely not around his boss. And not around Nancy either. Tucked between Tommy and a past hookup, he found it. 

He set up his pillows behind his back and got comfortable before dialing the number with uncharacteristically sweaty hands. He was cooler than this was all making him seem. He was the playboy of Hawkins High— of Hawkins in general. Phone sex was nothing. 

As he dialed the number, he prepared to turn on his charm. Instead, he was led to a generic call-center script, which, after being carefully followed based on his wants and desires, took him to billing. 

“It’s a flat rate of twenty for your first ten minutes. If you finish before then, it’s still twenty, alright?”

He swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“After that, it’s fifty cents per minute. An hour session will run you about $55.” Oh. It certainly wasn’t cheap. He’d spent less on dates before. “Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah,” he said after a brief pause, his mind taking a while to catch up. “Do you need my credit card?”

By the time billing was over, his anticipation had tangled his stomach into knots. He glanced at the clock, wondering if those ten minutes would fly past him as fast as he thought they would. The line trilled as he waited to be connected to his partner for the night. Jenny. Like the song.

That song was gross, anyway. But how could he say anything about it now?

The ringing stopped, and he could hear the crackle of a quiet line on the other side, the rustle of movement. Did he need to say hi first? Was trying to start a conversation weird?

“Hi,” he said, and he wondered how he could make one word sound so utterly stupid. “Jenny, right?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed. He could picture you so clearly, despite knowing nothing— one of those pretty girls in the commercials, laying on your belly on a frilly pink bed, fingernails and toenails painted a shiny red, twirling the phone cord around your finger. “What should I call you?”

He swallowed. “Do people usually give you fake names?”

“Sometimes,” you replied. “It’s not about what other people do, baby. It’s about what you want. Do you want me to call you by a fake name?”

He wrinkled his nose. What was the worst thing that could come from a stranger knowing his first name? “No, that sounds awful. No offense.” You laughed, and he felt himself relax. “I’m Steve H—“ He cleared his throat. “Just Steve.”

“Well, I’m glad that I get to talk to you tonight Steve,” you said, and just the sultry timbre of your voice made his stomach do flips. “I’m guessing this is your first time?”

He furrowed his brows. “I’m not a virgin.”

“No, baby. I mean it seems like it’s your first time calling a hotline like this.” His face burned hot as he fumbled his way through answering, oh, yeah, I guess that’s right. “So, sweetheart, why don’t you tell me what you want?”

“Uh…” he paused, trying to think of a more polite way of saying to cum while a pretty girl talks to me. “I guess I’ve just been lonely.”

“Poor baby,” you said, and he was shocked that you didn’t have even a hint of amusement or mirth when you said it. “You want me to take care of you? Help you forget?”

His breath caught in his throat, stealing his response. His dick twitched, already half-hard and sensitive. All he could manage was a tiny whimper of, “Mhmm.”

“What do you usually think about when you’re touching yourself?” You asked, and the lack of shame in your voice made heat flare in his cheeks. He’d had some shameless hookups, but most of the girls he slept with didn’t like to talk about it. “Like, what’s your favorite fantasy, Steve?”

It was embarrassing. Mortifying, actually. It was basically the plot of a bad porno or a letter to Penthouse. 

Usually, it started by his pool. And a girl was there, wearing a cute, but ultimately tiny, bikini. The girl didn’t really matter. Well, she did, but it wasn’t about who she was. She could have been a Playmate of the Month, or a movie star, or a girl he was crushing on and wanted to ask out. All that mattered for the sake of the fantasy, was that she was pretty, had nice tits, and wanted him. 

“Does that make me awful?” He asked, pausing mid-description to gauge your perception of him. You laughed on the other end of the line. 

“God, Steve,” you said with thinly veiled amusement. “You think I give a personality and backstory to all of the people I fantasize about fucking?”

It made him feel a little better.

Anyways, there was something about summertime that just made sense to him. Skin all but steaming in the heat, the oiled up glow that came from sweaty skin. Wearing as few clothes as possible so you didn’t overheat. 

You gave a nervous laugh— breathy and sweet— on the other end of the line. “You’re really good at setting the scene, Steve.” He liked to be specific. He wanted to think about tiny details like the salty taste of skin or hair that smelled like chlorine and salt. “What’s next?”

She always started by laying on her stomach, the ties of her bikini undone so she didn’t get unsightly tan lines. She would peer at him over her shoulder with wide, innocent eyes while she asked if he could apply a bit more sunscreen on her back where she couldn’t reach. 

So he straddled her thighs, her skin burning up under his hands as he rubbed in the freezing cold sunscreen. Goosebumps would break out along her arms, and she’d have to arch away from the sensation, pushing her ass against him. 

“Are you hard already?” You asked, and his cheeks burned hot. 

“Like…” He glanced at his lap, where his cock was already straining against the fabric of his boxers. “In the fantasy or right now?”

“Is the answer the same for both?”

He let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“Keep going.”

He was already impatient. Skipped right to the kissing and cut out the context and actions that led to it. Did it matter? The bikini top fell onto the ground, and she was on top of him, tits pressed into his sun-warmed chest, tongue licking into his mouth. 

God, he fucking loved kissing. He’d missed it so much since he’d graduated and his social clout had depleted to fuck all. There had been dates, and messy, slow makeouts in the back of his car since walking the stage, but not one since his first shift at Scoops Ahoy. It was killing him.

She felt so good in his lap— so warm and heavy. He could have stayed like that forever— trapped beneath a pretty girl with her tongue down his throat. But he wanted more— he always wanted more. 

He wanted more then. As he relayed his fantasy to this stranger in painstaking detail, he ached for more. His hand was flat on his tummy, and he shivered as he slipped it beneath the band of his boxers to take his cock into his hand. He groaned, the back of his head knocking against the wall.

“God, you’re cute,” your voice was so pretty. He throbbed in his grip, making him exhale a shuddering breath. “It’s okay, Steve. You can keep touching yourself while you talk to me. I want you to.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, his voice broken by a tiny whimper. “I don’t have to.”

“I’m sure, baby,” you insisted. “What do you do next, hm? I’m on top of you, kissing you nice and slow, grinding my hips against yours because I just can’t help myself. Tell me what you’re going to do to me.”

“I’d—“ He swallows hard, eyes shut tight. “I’d want to taste you.”

In the fantasy, his hands gripped the back of your thighs, moving you up his body so you were just above his mouth. He was suave and sexy. He’d pull the bow at your hip with his teeth so your swim bottoms fell off like they were nothing. 

And it would feel so comfortable beneath you— so natural for him. He’d just barely have to lean forward to have his mouth on you, already wet so he could taste you on his tongue. He’d moan at your taste— he fucking loved the way pussy tasted, even if he got shit for it in the locker room when he admitted it— and pull you down onto his mouth so he could get impossibly closer. 

It would be messy— a mix of spit and slick on his mouth and chin, making the tip of his nose shine. He’d spend as long as he wanted beneath you, pulling every noise he could from your lips, trapped between your thighs. He wouldn’t stop until you came— once at a minimum, more if he was feeling greedy.

“All this attention on little old me,” you teased. “Would you let me take care of you? I could slip off those swim trunks of yours and make you feel good.”

He had set a steady pace— hand gliding up and down his length as his fantasy continued to evolve. “Yeah,” he managed, but his voice came out strangled and desperate. “You’d put your hand down my shorts and tease me. Your hand would feel so good. Warm and soft. You’d, uh, tell me how big I am, how you wanted to feel me stretch your uh— your—.”

“My what, baby?” Your voice dripped with amusement and mirth. “My pussy?”

“Fuck.” It came out with an exhale, his heart hammering.

“You like it when girls say dirty things to you, Steve?” You asked, and he could hear your smirk. “You want me to beg for your cock so deep inside of me that I feel you in my stomach? Or tell you how warm and wet and tight I feel around my fingers?”

Steve groaned, throbbing in his grip as he worked himself faster. “Fuck, are you really?”

“Mhmm,” you replied. “Think about how good I’d feel when you finally let yourself fuck me. You were such a gentleman first, but you don’t have to be with me. I want to make this all about you.”

But he was a gentleman. Of course he wanted to get his dick wet and et cetera, but that wasn’t really why he liked sex. He liked making people feel good all because of him— hearing the pretty noises they made, watching their initial shyness melt away into unabashed desire. 

A lot of the time (most of the time), he felt like a huge fuck-up. Abysmal grades (well, more around average), not good enough for sports scholarships, basically every bit the son that his parents didn’t want to have. Who could really blame him for relishing in the times when he could be good and impressive to someone other than himself?

Whatever. If he thought about that train of thought for more than, like, ten seconds, he’d lose his hard-on and probably start crying into the receiver and spilling all of his life’s worst moments. He really couldn’t imagine anything more pathetic than that. 

So he thought about something else. 

He thought about how he’d lay you down on a beach towel, warmed in the sun, cradled by plush grass beneath it. He’d feel awkward about shucking off his swim trunks— he always hated undressing because it felt so awkward. But you’d look at him like he was the most attractive guy in the whole world. 

He was a sap, what could he say? He would hold your hand too, squeezing it with his as he lined up with your entrance. You’d be so wet that it felt slick and he’d feel proud just knowing he did that to you.

When he finally pushed into you, your eyes would be locked on his, warm with emotion, like the entire world just melted away. And how could he not kiss you? When everything felt so good and your legs were wrapped around his waist and each breath was punctuated by soft, desperate sounds? 

It would feel special. With your foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air. He just wants to be as close to you as possible— needs to feel every inch of your skin, sweaty and sun-warmed, against his. He’d just… bury himself deep inside of you and grind into you. It felt more intimate that way.

He could feel himself getting close. A furrow formed between his brows as he chased his high. Moans broke up his words as he brought himself closer and closer. 

“I’d— fuck— I’d rub your clit. Make you cum before I got there. It’d feel so— so fucking good too. It always feels so good. Oh god. Fuck, I’m close.”

“Go ahead, baby. I want to hear you.”

His entire body shuddered as he came, spilling messily onto his belly and chest. It felt like it lasted forever— that warm, perfect feeling of reaching his peak. He was panting as he came down, stroking himself until overstimulation made him whimper. 

“Fuck… maybe I should pay you for that,” you said after a beat. “Did it feel good, Steve?  Feel a little less lonely?”

“Mhmm,” he replied. He was spent— already feeling languid and heavy. “That was… Really perfect.”

“I’m glad.” You paused again,  and he spent that time trying to catch his breath. “I’m on every night around this time. Like, from around ten to two. I’d like to hear more of your fantasies, maybe even act one out with you, if you’d want that?”

His heart hammered, and he felt incredibly stupid as a blush crept up his neck and cheeks. “Yeah, I’ll call you again soon.”

When you said your good nights, he laid back against his pillows. The dial tone played over the speakers as he stared up at his ceiling, spend cooling on his tummy. Leave it to King Steve to fall for someone he had to pay to talk to.

Your eyelids drooped as you manned the checkout counter at Waldenbooks, one of few stores at the mall that could actually be found vacant during a busy summer day. Last night had been a late one— it didn’t help that you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve, your mystery caller. 

It felt stupid to get hung up on the type of guy who had to call a hotline to get his rocks off, especially when you knew precious little about him. You had his name, his general location, that he had a pool, and he had a nice voice. 

Your bangs lifted as you blew a puff of air out the side of your lips, slowly going insane to the sound of Muzak playing softly through the speakers. 

Steve… Did you know any Steve’s? Steve Crandall got into a motorcycle wreck the year after graduation and died. Then there was Steve Odell who moved off to California on some crazy tech idea he swore was going to change the world. Steven Ferris? He seemed like the type, but there was no way he owned a pool since you were pretty sure he lived in the basement of some old couple’s house. That wiped out your graduating class, at least. 

From your perspective on the second floor, you had a perfect view of the fine piece of ass working the ice cream parlor. He was cute— definitely younger than you by a couple of years— and the stupid costume they had him in surprisingly did it for you. You could watch him mop up spilled sorbet all day and it’d be jerk-off material for the next week. 

  He had nice biceps. And thighs. Fucking hell, the things you’d do to get between those and —

“New releases?” You snap your gaze to the other side of the counter, where a woman with pink lipstick on her teeth looks at you impatiently. 

You plastered on a winning smile and pointed a manicured finger to the other side of the store. “That big shelf on the left-hand wall over there,” you said with saccharine sweetness. “Anything else that I can help you with, ma’am?” 

She frowned and you fought a grin. There was nothing that women pushing forty hated more than being called ma’am. You might as well have been telling them they had a foot in the grave. 

The day passed by with minimal hiccups. You convinced someone to buy your favorite book, so that was a win. And you’d gotten to restock the fun pencils. You clocked out and shrugged off the vest you wore on top of your normal clothes and took your hair down from its ponytail to hang loose on your shoulders. Your perm was kind of killing you. It never sat just how you wanted, almost like it had a mind of its own. 

You made your way out of the mall with a brief glance towards Scoops Ahoy, which was notably missing the hot guy you’d been lusting after since your first day on the job. With a dejected sigh, you escaped the crowded, piercingly loud mall and stepped into the hot summer air. 

Most people (or, more accurately, children) were heading for the busses that would shuttle people back into the town square or their respective neighborhoods, but your car waited for you in the exclusive Employees Only lot in the shade. As you turned to head that way, you bumped straight into a tall, firm figure. 

Huh, you thought. He smells like hot fudge and maraschino cherries. I like those things.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I thought you were headed for the bus like everyone else.”

You looked up, squinting against the sun, and felt heat flood your cheeks when you realized that it was the hot ice cream scooper. “Oh, it’s, uh—“ you stammered nervously. It was never as easy as the phone line. “I was too.” You wanted to hit yourself. What the hell were you even talking about?

His brows furrowed. “You were what?“

Fuck. “I… uh— don’t know,” you finally said, ready for the conversation to end forever. “I’ll see you around.” And you were gone. You almost missed him calling after you.

You will?

But you pretended you’d never heard it. 

——

Steve called at midnight, just as you brewed your second cup of coffee of the night. You took a quick sip as the call was directed your way, already feeling much more awake in anticipation of what lay ahead. 

“Hey, Steve,” you greeted, adjusting your voice to that casual, sexy cadence that you had perfected. “I was thinking about you all day today.”

Steve responded with a dismissive psh. “I’m going to pretend that’s true, because I was thinking of you too,” he said, and you could hear his grin. “I kept screwing up at work because I’d get distracted thinking about you.”

You felt heat creep into your cheeks. “Baby, you’ll make me blush.” You paused, chewing on your lip briefly. “So… what’s in the cards for tonight, Steve? What do you want to do with me?”

He paused so long that you almost thought the call had dropped, but eventually he worked up the nerve to continue. “Well, you heard my fantasy last time. This time I want to hear yours.”

You snorted a laugh. “Steve, baby, that’s so incredibly sweet, but you could hate it, or think it’s boring, and then I’ll feel guilty for wasting your money.”

“I won’t,” he insisted. “C’mon, it’ll help us get to know each other better.”

You exhaled slowly through your nose, your tummy already fluttering with thoughts of the hot sailor shelling out dollar ice cream cones with extra sprinkles on top. 

Fuck. 

“Alright, but if you hate it, you’ve gotta promise me that you’ll tell me to shut up and we’ll do something else.” He hummed in affirmation and you laid back against your pillows, sighing as you closed your eyes and fell into your newfound, perfect little fantasy. 

“So… when I’m not doing sexy phone calls, I work a menial job,” you begin. “And normally, I’d be, like, wearing an ugly polo or vest or something with our logo on it, but for the sake of sexiness, let’s say that I’m wearing a cute little dress and my hair looks, like, perfect.”

“What does your hair look like normally?” Steve asked, hung up on the one detail that was specifically for your sake. God, you wanted to burn your local salon to the ground. 

“Uh,” you paused, wondering if you should tell the truth. “So I told my hairstylist to go for Kelly LeBrock and she… you know… tried. It looks so cute sometimes, and then other times it has a total mind of its own.”

“Oh, Kelly LeBrock! She’s such a babe. I saw the trailer for that movie she’s gonna be in. Total fox. Great hair.”

You tried to fight a smile, but couldn’t. “Do you wanna talk hair routines, or do you want me to keep going?”

Steve paused like he was genuinely considering it. “We’ll come back to the hair. I could probably help you figure it out, you know. I’ve got great hair.”

You smirked. “Oh, yeah? Where?”

“Use your imagination.”

You grinned. Oh, I am.

You were stocking shelves, as usual— except this time you couldn’t reach the top shelf. Standing on your tiptoes, the hemline of your skirt inching up and up and up. And suddenly there was a presence behind you, reaching up to stock the shelf for you. He smelled really nice, felt warm pressed up against your back.

“Am I the handsome stranger in this scenario?”

You said yes, even though you were mostly thinking about your mystery sailor from the mall. God, even the stupid uniform did it for you. Maybe it was the short shorts.

In the fantasy, the two of you didn’t even talk— really, your fantasies were typically pretty straight to the point, unlike Steve’s. The plot and dialogue would get skipped, and then suddenly, your back was pressed against the ridges of the shelves and the handsome stranger was on his knees in front of you, kissing sloppily up your thighs. 

Usually, you’d have some sense of control— keep your hands above the belt. It was better for you that way. It gave you a sense of separation from what was real and what was happening on the phone. And, really, you never really had a particular need to touch yourself while you were handling the calls anyway. 

And yet… Your hand slipped past the elastic hand of your panties, between your thighs where you were already wet and needy from just your own imagination. You gasped into the phone, bucking your hips into your own touch. 

Steve made a choked sound, crackly through the phone’s speakers. He knew exactly what you were doing. 

“Getting all worked up thinking about it, huh?” He asked, and you could hear a slight rustling and movement as he got himself undressed. It was honestly puzzling that it took that long, or that he didn’t call already ready to go. “Sound so pretty.”

You weren’t even aware that you were making a significant amount of noise, but Steve had keyed into it easily, hanging onto every sigh and whimper. 

In your fantasy, his mouth was absolutely fucking sinful. He would moan against your cunt, nuzzling against your clit with his nose as he lapped up your slick. It was sloppy, and the sounds he made could have made the devil himself blush a burning red. His chin and mouth would drip with the combination of your juices and his spit— his fingernails leaving crescents in your thighs from where he held you tight. 

When he looked up at you from between your thighs, his gaze would be equal parts hungry and sweet. He wanted it to feel good for you because the more you get off, the better it felt for him too. When he felt you getting closer and closer, he moved his fingertip to your entrance, teasing you with featherlight grazes that gathered your essence. He pressed in, just to his first knuckle, and relished in the way you would clench around him at the smallest intrusion before he gave it to you entirely.

Despite the shitty quality of the phone, which was probably your fault, since you had owned it since at least ‘78, you could hear the slick sounds of him stroking himself to your words. And, for once, you relished in that noise across the line. 

You pushed a finger inside of yourself, then a second. Most guys you’d been with got that far then jammed them in and out at a wrist-killing speed until you faked it. Your thing was always just keeping them still, pressing against the sweet spot just barely a few inches inside. Paired with the dizzying pleasure of attention to your clit, the sensation was electric and all-consuming. 

It felt too good to stop, and yet you knew you needed to make it through your fantasy before you came and that precious euphoria rushed over you. Because after the euphoria came that strange sense of disgust, and you couldn’t really afford to spend the rest of the call grossed out by what you were doing. 

“Fuck, anyways,” you began, your breath coming in short pants. “He— you— would take off your shorts.” Stupid, tiny, tight shorts. “And, fuck, you’d already be so hard and needy. You just wanted me so bad. You would press me against the shelf and when you push into me it’d be so easy and slick and I’d feel so full.”

Your cunt pulsed around your fingers, so close to the edge that you could almost swear you were already over it. The precipice was so nice you almost didn’t mind waiting for it. You would hear Steve fucking his hand, pretty moans and grunts passing his lips as he brought himself closer. It wasn’t really fair to leave either one of you hanging much longer. 

“You’d kiss me. And it would be a little messy, but we wouldn’t care. You’d taste good, and you’d feel good. Fuck, Steve. I need to cum so bad.”

He panted into the phone and you practically mewled. God, he sounded so much better than the gross old men you usually had to deal with. “Fuck, I’m right here with you,” he managed, his voice breathy and desperate. “Let me hear you.”

Your ears rang as you came, making the world go a bit fuzzy. Distantly, you could hear how pretty Steve sounded as he came. Honestly, you’d never been one to relish in that type of thing— most guys you’d hooked up with kind of grossed you out. But, god, you’d give anything to watch him get off. Your chest heaved, rising and falling with a shiny sheen of sweat.

“So…” Steve began, sounding a little more languid and a lot more blissed out. There was a sweet, carefree quality to his voice. “Your fantasy is having sex at work?”

You rolled your eyes and fought a grin. “Hey, I didn’t judge your hot, sweaty poolside fuck session.”

”That was about making love,” He insisted. Your heart stuttered a bit. You had to admit that was sweet. “And I’m not knocking your fantasy— I just can’t even imagine someone wanting to have sex with me in my uniform.”

You grinned. “Aw, you have a uniform? I bet you look really sexy in it.”

He huffed, an annoyed groan escaping his lips. “No, I hate my uniform and I’m counting the days until I can rip it off and throw it in, like, a bonfire.”

“I can help with the ripping it off part, y’know,” you teased. 

“No,” he said firmly. “No, we’re not going there, because, one, I came so much I can’t even think about getting hard again or my dick will hurt, and two, if I start having workplace fantasies about you and my uniform I’ll get hard on the job and end up on a registry somewhere.”

“Alright, alright,” you said with a laugh. “I had fun tonight, Steve. I, uh, don’t really get a lot of people asking what I like. I don’t get anyone asking what I like, actually.”

“Well, what can I say? I’m just a pleaser, I guess.” 

He said his goodnights just before hanging up, promising to call again soon. You didn’t have a clear idea of when soon was. You’d had long-term customers promise a call soon that just dropped off the face of the earth. You laid there listening to the dial tone until it started to hurt your ears, then put the phone back on the receiver.

The bed creaked on its ancient springs as you got up, padding out into the hallway. Outside the big window at the end of the hall, you saw a lamp switch off across the street, making the house go dark. It felt a little comforting to know that boring old Hawkins was awake just like you were. 

In the bathroom, you washed your hands with cotton candy-scented soap and tugged at your misbehaving curls. Maybe you would take up Steve on his hair tips. Before you could think about Steve any longer, your phone rang again. And though part of you wished it would be Steve, you knew that there was such a thing as too soon to be ‘soon.’

There wasn’t really a point in pouting. It was decent money. You answered the phone, put on your fake voice, and got to work. 

Steve called nearly nightly for the next month. If having a backyard school wasn’t proof enough he was loaded, his ability to pay your rates nightly sealed the deal. 

It wasn’t always sexual. Well, to be fair, it was mostly sexual. No matter how much you looked forward to phone sex with Steve, you enjoyed talking to him just as much. You learned about his childhood dog, Walter, and his allegedly prodigy-like swimming skills. He was CPR certified, could say his ABCs in French (and nothing else), and loved the colors red, yellow, and blue.

You told him what you could without giving too much away. That Jenny, obviously, wasn’t your real name. Your favorite color, favorite book, favorite flower. You told him that you were in college, going back in the fall. That you only started doing this gig because textbooks were expensive and you wanted to be able to feed yourself while at school. 

Without meaning to, you started to care about Steve. It was probably stupid, and definitely against everything you thought you stood for. But somehow, he managed to squeeze into the recesses of your brain and set up camp there. Try as you might, you couldn’t get him out of your mind. 

“Alright, little Stevie, that’s your fifth wistful sigh of the day,” Robin said, marking a tally on her palm. It struck him as weird that she was counting, but it wasn’t exactly anything new. “You’ve gotta stop or I might actually start feeling bad for you.”

His chin rested in his hand, and he looked over at her with wide puppy dog eyes. “Can you love someone you’ve never met?”

Robin shrugged. “I dunno. Probably not, why?”

He sighed again, his shoulders sagging. “What if my dream girl isn’t exactly accessible? Like… she’s impossible to find and might not even live in Hawkins. She might live in, like, Indianapolis.”

Robin’s expression— the slight squint of her eyes and downturn to her lips— told him she didn’t particularly care. But the store was dead on a boring Tuesday, so digging into Steve’s life was about the only interesting thing to do on the job. 

“That sucks,” she said slowly. “How do you know this mystery soulmate?”

Steve blanched, picking at his nails as he tried to consider a reasonable excuse. “Uh… Blind setup. Very blind setup.” Robin raised an eyebrow. “I only know her number, nothing else.”

“Name?” Steve shook his head glumly. “Damn. But you think you love this girl?” Steve nodded again, but felt a little dumb. He never did things in half-measures. Never felt things that way either, so it made sense to him, but maybe it was a little crazy. 

He just couldn’t stop thinking about you. He wanted to help you with your bad perm and give you advice about how to take care of it. He wanted to surprise you at your boring job with lunch and flowers. It had been a long time since he’d been this excited about someone. 

A tinny beeping sound made him jolt, nearly slipping on the freshly mopped floor. Finally. He didn’t hesitate to tear off his work shirt, leaving him in the shorts and the white tee shirt he kept beneath it for this very reason— not having to walk out in public in full uniform.

He offered a quick bye to Robin and clocked out as quickly as he could. It had been only a week since Jenny had told him her favorite book, and he’d been saving up tips to pay for a copy at Waldenbooks. 

There was a girl behind the counter with a messy ponytail that had half-fallen-out, music blaring from her headphones. It must’ve been a mixtape because it went from some Hall and Oates song to an older Queen one. A little disjointed, but not in bad taste. She was completely immersed in the novel in her hand, so much so that she didn’t notice his presence.

“Excuse me?” He asked, putting on a winning smile. 

“What?” The girl in front of him blinked in surprise and tugged the headphones down around her neck. The music continued— saxophone and a dance beat. Staying Power. He liked that one. Once she’d paused it abruptly, she looked at him again, and he saw a glint of something in her eyes, like she recognized him.

“I’m looking for this book—“ He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket, where he had scribbled the title down as Jenny told him about it. “Do you know if it’s in stock?”

She looked at the note, then chewed on her lip anxiously. “Mhmm.” She watched him again, like she was expecting something. It took a moment, but it clicked. 

She’s the girl who bumped into him outside a month ago and said weird stuff! “Oh! You were right, I guess. About seeing me around.” He squinted, reading her name tag aloud. 

“Hm?” She blinked a few times, like she was taken out of a daydream. “Oh. Yeah, sorry about all of that. I just had a long day and my brain was fried.”

He nodded. “I get that,” he replied. “Next thing I know I’ll wake up from scooping ice cream in my sleep.” She laughed at that, a smile splitting across her features. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

Her expression faltered, just the tiniest bit. Almost enough that he wouldn’t notice, especially since she corrected it just as quickly. “I’ll go grab that book for you, ‘Kay? Just… stay here.”

She disappeared into the shelves, leaving him standing awkwardly at the counter. The store was oddly empty— he would’ve at least expected some nerdy kids like Dustin to be rooting around. When she returned, she seemed more nervous than before.

“Here, just take it—“ She said, shoving a beat-up-looking copy at him. His brows furrowed as he looked down at the copy in his hands. The cover was bent and torn in places. Corners of pages were dog eared, sticky note tabs stuck out from pages, and he could see glimpses of pen and highlighter. Noticing his confusion, she elaborated. “We’re out, but I had an old copy in my bag. I’ve already read it, so you can borrow it.”

He furrowed his brows. “Is that, like… allowed?”

“Probably!” She said with a startling lack of confidence. She swallowed, giving him an awkward smile. “Just bring it back when you’re done.”

He hesitated. “Uh… okay. Thanks.” He turned to walk away when she called out after him. 

 “Bye, Steve.” 

He wondered why that sounded so familiar. 

Fuck. 

“I mean… what are the odds?” You spoke aloud as you paced your room. When your reflection caught your attention, you felt, and looked, like a madwoman. “It’s not him. It’s not him, and I’m not going to worry about it.”

Five minutes later, you sat up in bed, unable to focus on the book you were reading. It was going to keep bothering you unless you did at least a little digging. But, Jesus, where did you even start with something like this?

“Hey, Rhonda?” You called, popping your head out of your room. “Do you remember any hot underclassmen named Steve from high school?”

Rhonda Finley was the prettiest girl from the class of ‘83. And it wasn’t an exaggeration either, seeing as she was voted Most Beautiful and Miss Hawkins within the same school year. The fact that you were even friends felt like a strange coincidence, but there you both were regardless. 

She carried all of her yearbooks into your room, settling onto the fluffy rug beside your bed. 

“You said his name is Steve?” She asked from her spot on the floor. She flipped through the old yearbook with reverence— pausing to look at photos of herself on other pages. “Steve… stevestevesteve. What about Stephen Cranston? He did the morning announcements, he was decent.”

You glanced at his picture briefly and shook your head. “No, not him,” you replied. “He’s cuter. Uh… boyish is a good word to describe him. Sharp nose and warm eyes.”

Rhonda snorted, flipping another page. “Okay, Shakespeare.” 

You chewed on your lip, watching her tab through until you made a squeak of recognition. The faintest glimpse of a younger Steve in a picture of a home economics class. “Ronnie, flip back,” you said, tapping her shoulder insistently. She did as you said and you pointed. “That’s him. Younger, but it’s him.”

She squinted, reading the small caption. “Sophomore Steve Harrington cooks up trouble in Mrs. Destefano’s Home Ec class!’” She laughed and flipped until she found the sophomore class portraits. “Yep. Steven Harrington.”

You sat back on your heels. “Huh.”

She closed the yearbook and glanced back at you. “I think I went to a pool party of his once,” Ronnie said, brows furrowed as she tried to find the memory. “He was friends with that freckle-y kid that my asshole ex was friends with. God, that was the night when we got into that screaming match and we broke up for like a month before he was begging for another chance.”

Pool party? You felt a knot in your stomach that you weren’t even sure you could have untangled at that point. Was it even possible that your mystery cute phone guy was the unbelievably attractive ice cream scooper at the mall?

No chance. You weren’t that lucky. And yet… maybe a seed of hope took root in your chest. And maybe… maybe you could get him to spill enough details to prove it. 

——

Steve called you around midnight. Your heart leapt into your throat as you answered, thrumming and threatening to burst from nerves. 

“Hey.” His voice was soft, a little tired. “I, uh, thought about you today.”

You could picture him so clearly— his soft hair, long legs, boyish charm. “Hope I wasn’t too distracting. Were you working today? What do you do?” You dug a little deeper with the question, trying to suss out any information you could. 

“Yeah,” he replied with a sigh. “I work in food service at a mall I live near. It’s nothing to write home about, I guess, but it’s temporary until I start applying for the spring semester.”

Okay, so there’s no doubt about it anymore. It was Steve Harrington, the hot ice cream scooper in the sailor suit, who was calling your line every night. The same Steve Harrington who you’d bumped into twice after your shift. 

You tried to push that aside and focus on the reason for the call. 

“So I was a welcome distraction, then?”

He laughed. “I can’t imagine a world where you aren’t.” He paused. “Did you, uh… think about me?”

The hope in his voice made your heart swell. “Of course I thought about you, baby. You’re my favorite caller.” You paused, debating your next move. “I’ve been thinking about getting you all needy and desperate for me all day. About hearing your pretty sounds.”

He fucking whimpered. “I’ve spent the entire night hard just waiting to call you.” You could hear him shuffle around on the other end of the call, presumably stripping off his remaining layers. “Didn’t want to be too desperate and call too fast.”

“Poor baby,” you cooed. “Can you do something for me? It’ll feel so good, I promise.”

“Mhmm.”

“Grab a pillow and lay on your stomach for me,” you instructed. Without hesitation, you could hear the staticky sound of movement on his end as he shifted. “This might sound weird, but—“

“You want me to… to like—“ he stammered nervously. “Hump it?”

You blanched, wondering if your perverse fantasies of the hot mall guy getting off had perhaps pushed him a bit too far. “I mean…. Only if you’re into it. We can do something else.”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, I’ve… I mean— I’ve done it before.”

Oh. Butterflies buzzed around your tummy as you let yourself indulge in the mental image. “Yeah? Did it feel good?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed. You could hear rustling on the phone, like he was trying to situate himself comfortably. “Just made a mess is all.”

Fucking hell. “You gonna make a mess for me tonight, then?” You asked, twirling the phone cord around your finger. He moaned in response, and you grinned. “Aw, did you already get started, sweetheart?”

He moaned out a confirmation and you grinned, letting your free hand trail down your belly and beneath the waistband of your panties. “You already sound so pretty, Steve. So good for me, doing exactly what I say.”

The breathy sounds of his pants and moans made slickness gather between your thighs. Sounded like he hadn’t been lying about being hard and desperate all night just anticipating the call. “We’re not gonna talk tonight, we’re just gonna listen to each other,” you told him. 

Maybe it was unfair to him that you had the perfect mental image of him in your head since you already knew what he looked like. You relished in that knowledge as you coated your fingers in your wetness and rubbed small circles around your clit. 

Steve was loud, which made you wonder if his neighbors hated him. If you had to live next door to Steve Harrington and his pornstar moans, you’d probably go crazy. You were going crazy just from being on the other end of the phone. You were louder than usual too— it was a miracle that Rhonda worked nights.

It wasn’t long before you both finished— gasping and moaning into the phone’s receiver. You sighed as you laid back against your pillows, completely sated and content as you listened to Steve’s shaky breaths. 

“How’re you feeling?” You asked, fighting the desire to twirl your hair around your fingers. 

“Good,” he said finally. “Gonna have to do laundry, wash my sheets. I probably needed to anyway.” He paused. “I picked up a copy of that book you were talking about. It’s actually funny, ‘cause they were out of copies apparently, but the girl behind the counter let me have hers. Like it was meant to be, or something.”

Your heart hammered. “That’s really sweet, Steve,” you said softly. “I’m sorry in advance if you hate it.”

“I won’t!” He insisted. “I read the first couple of pages while I waited to call. I’m not the best reader, though. Might take me a while to finish it, but I do like it so far.”

You were partially convinced that you were in love with Steve Harrington, despite the fact that he wouldn’t even recognize you on the street. “This might be… I mean, maybe it’s crossing a line, and I could totally get fired for even suggesting… but—“ You hesitated. Fuck it. “I want to give you my personal line. So you don’t have to pay to talk to me. It’s not fair if we’re both enjoying the conversations but only one of us is paying, you know?”

He was quiet, almost too quiet. Nerves stirred in your belly. “Is that… you know, okay?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he said quickly. “Let me just grab a pen.”

You couldn’t help but stare longingly down into the atrium of the mall, where Steve Harrington was sweeping crumbs off of one of the booths inside Scoops Ahoy.

“Hello?” A kid snapped his fingers a few times and you swallowed down your annoyance as you turned. “We called earlier about Ender’s Game. The guy on the phone said he’d hold three copies. It’s under Mike.”

You glanced behind you, where the books clearly weren’t. Fuck Greg for making your menial job even worse. “It must’ve slipped his mind. I can grab those for you.” The kid made a bitchy face as you stepped away from the counter and you bit your tongue to keep from saying something rude. Fucking latchkey kids.

When you returned with three copies of the book, you looked at the kids skeptically. “By the way, if you stole any of the pencils or bookmarks, my boss is going to take it out of my paycheck and I won’t be able to feed my kids.”

“It costs thirty cents to feed your kids?”

You sighed and rang them up, but they continued to loiter in the shelves while you pretended to be busy. 

“There’s nothing to do,” one of them said after picking up a copy of Sports Illustrated briefly. “We should just go back to my house and play Atari.”

A red-haired girl rolled her eyes. “Lucas, we’re not playing Pong again.” She paused and glanced down towards the food court. “We could go see Steve.”

It took all your willpower not to react. 

“Why do you always want to go see Steve?” Lucas asked. “It’s not like you have a boyfriend or anything.”

“She just wants to see him because she’s got some weird crush on him,” the bitchy one said. Mike? The red-haired girl blushed nearly as fiery as her hair and shoved Mike hard. “What? We all know it. You and El are always drooling over him. It’s weird.”

“He’s nice, okay? Way nicer than you are, asshole.” She shoved past the group and left on her own, leaving the other two guys to scramble after her. One kid was left behind, the one with the unfortunate bowl cut. He offered a wave before he followed after them. 

When they got downstairs, you watched him greet the redhead with a smile and a ruffle of her hair. Lucas and the bowl-cut kid got a slap on the back, and the bitchy one got a half-smile that wasn’t returned. 

Then he shelled out free ice cream, which was evident because none of them made a move to pay. 

After they left, you watched him reach into his own wallet and cover the cost, placing the bills carefully into the cash register. 

The rest of your shift was spent fawning over Steve and flipping through issues of the magazines you had on display. You felt idiotic gazing at Steve Harrington with puppy dog eyes while reading Top Ten Ways to Know if He’s Really Into You! Of course he wasn’t into you— he didn’t even know who you were, not really. 

Around two in the afternoon, you were snapped out of your reverie by the sight of Steve walking through the threshold of the shop, looking around the shop before his gaze settled on you and lit up in recognition. 

“Hi!” He said, nearly knocking over a carefully displayed unofficial biography of Reagan on his way over. You smiled, straightening your posture as he approached. “I wanted to thank you for the book.”

Your heart thumped. “Oh, you don’t need to thank me,” you insisted. “I just wanted to help.”

He reached into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out two coupons to Scoops Ahoy with a flourish. They advertised free ice cream in the nautical scrawl. “Does this change your mind?” He raised his brows and smiled smugly. 

You rolled your eyes and grabbed them, reading the fine print. Valid only at the Starcourt Mall location on weekdays between 8am and 11am. Offer not valid in conjunction with any other deals. Offer excludes banana splits, sundaes, and the U.S.S. Butterscotch.

“Maybe,” you replied. “Is free ice cream your thing or something? I saw you give that group of kids free sundaes earlier.”

He furrowed his brows, considering it, then grinned. “Are you watching me?”

Fuck. You spluttered, shaking your head as you fumbled through a response. “No. They were here first, then talked about going to see you, and then I just…” He laughed and leaned over the desk slightly, as if testing the view. 

“Oh, yeah. Perfect view from here.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat burning in your cheeks. “So you come here to thank me with shitty coupons, and then you accuse me of spying on you?”

He shook his head as he leaned back. “Hey, it’s not accusing you if it’s true.” He was so smug. “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. See you around?” He looked at you expectantly until you nodded, face burning hot. He smiled, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked out casually like he hadn’t just totally caught you creeping on him. 

God, you were going to make him pay for that later. 

——

Steve paced around his room as he tried to gain the courage to call you. He would have liked to say that he needed to get your number from his Rolodex, but he’d memorized it nearly the moment he put it down on paper. 

He was thinking of you, but he was also thinking about the girl from the mall who seemed to keep popping up. There was something about her, the way he was drawn to her, the way she spoke, the way she looked at him. It was all so familiar and easy, like they’d known each other forever. 

He didn’t know how to feel about that. 

Finally, he settled on his bed, dressed only in a thin white tank top and boxers that were a size too big since he stopped working out as much. With nerves buzzing in his ears, he dialed your number and waited. 

And waited. And waited. He swallowed hard, wondering if you’d given him a fake number just to be rid of him. The number went to the answering machine, and his mouth went dry. 

“Hi! You’ve reached Y/N Y/L/N. I’m out right now, but leave your name and number at the beep and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!” A beep sounded and Steve hung up suddenly. His stomach sank. 

He wasn’t supposed to know your real name like that. It felt like some gross intrusion. And yet, he repeated it over and over again in his mind. Why did it seem so familiar?

On his nightstand, the beat up paperback he had borrowed stood out like a sore thumb. Oh. The book, the same book you, Jenny, had told him about. And the girl who worked there… Y/N. 

It was too much, far too much to be a coincidence. He grabbed the book and opened it to look at the inside cover, where your name, Jenny’s name was scrawled inside. Because you and Jenny were the same person. 

Every single conversation leading up to that point played over in his mind. The messy perm, the shitty job with the ugly polo, the fantasy about being pushed against the shelves and fucked. Oh, God. And you were totally spying on him. 

It should’ve been an absolute win for him, but his stomach turned as he glanced over at the phone on the receiver. You were gorgeous and funny and smart and so sexy. Why would you want to be with someone who needed to call a sex hotline?

He could just picture the look on your face when you discovered that the guy who worked in the stupid uniform at Scoops was so pathetic that he needed to call someone to get attention. 

He swallowed hard, guilt and doubt settling icy in his stomach. He put the book down, and didn’t call back.

——

Steve was sulking during his shift. Probably biting the heads off of a few too many kids who asked for a few too many samples. 

“Jesus, how many times do you need to try cotton candy?” He snapped as he dug out a tiny spoonful of the pink and blue ice cream. The kid furrowed his brows up at him, puzzled by the sudden outburst. 

“Uh, can I try Cherries Jubilee next?” He asked hesitantly. 

Steve exhaled slowly through his nose. “No, you’re done. Out.”

The kid rolled his eyes, swore under his breath, and stomped out of Scoops Ahoy. 

Robin was staring at him funny when he turned around, a mix of curiosity and amusement. “You’re totally PMSing today.”

He couldn’t manage more than a scowl in response. “Shut up.”

Robin laughed and tossed a cherry at him, which he managed to catch before it splattered against the glass of the ice cream case. He hated maraschino cherries— the artificial sweetness and unnatural color. But, hey, he could tie a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue.

He hadn’t called you for three days, which felt like the longest stretch of time in his life. And he hadn’t even seen you around Starcourt, which was both a good thing and absolutely unbearable. 

Part of him wanted to just jump on the escalator and see if you were sitting behind the counter at Waldenbooks, but he knew it was better to just have a clean break. Maybe in a few months, you’d forget about that Steve guy who’d called you and he could make his move then.

The shift change hit around lunchtime, and Steve prepared for the influx of people who were getting off work on empty stomachs. As he suspected, the line stretched out the door and he was practically up to his elbows in ice cream, mindlessly scooping flavor combinations that should’ve been illegal. Until—

“Hey, Steve,” you said, standing in front of him in your ugly work polo with messy hair half-fallen out of your ponytail. “Staying busy?”

He stammered nervously and mumbled out an unintelligible response. “Ice cream?” Was all that he could manage to ask, which made him want to throw himself into the fountain right in the middle of the food court. 

But you just smiled. “A shake, actually. Chocolate banana if that’s possible.” He nodded and got to work, thankful for the distraction. Your eyes followed his every movement as he made your shake, but he couldn’t let himself look at you.

Because if he did really look at you, all he’d be able to think about were the phone calls you’d had— the calls where he’d heard you cum with breathy gasps and pants and soft whimpers. And— Jesus Christ— he was thinking about it and it made him feel dizzy. 

He used a little bit too much whipped cream and put rainbow sprinkles on top for God knows why, but he handed it to you with a weak smile. 

“Three bucks, right?” You asked, nodding to the menu.

“Uh, you can just have it,” he said without even thinking. “On the house.”

You furrowed your brows for a moment,  but smiled brightly. “Really? Thanks, Steve. I appreciate it.” You took a sip and gave a soft moan at the flavor that made a full-body chill run through him. “See you around?”

“Yeah. See you.” You gave a small wave before you disappeared into the food court. He watched you the whole way, like you were the only person in the room.

Fuck. He was hard. Like, rock hard and the stupid apron on the uniform only made it more obvious. He’d fucking pavloved himself to get turned on just by your voice. 

“Robin, I’m taking my fifteen,” he said, darting into the back before she could protest. He stepped inside the walk-in freezer and propped the door with a crate of waffle cones. After about five minutes, he felt like he could actually think again.

“Fuck,” He muttered under his breath. He had to call you again.

You were sincerely considering quitting the hotline. After Steve, just listening to the other guys panting and blowing their loads on the phone was nauseating. They didn’t care to learn more about you, not the way he did. They just wanted to get their rocks off to an anonymous, sexy voice. 

Then again, Steve had disappeared too. Maybe giving him your real number had crossed a line. Maybe it freaked him out that you were taking it beyond a transaction. You sighed and wrapped yourself tighter in your house coat. Rhonda always kept the AC on overdrive in the summer, which meant you needed at least two blankets to be comfortable. 

When the phone rang, you picked it up without thinking, half expecting it to be Rhonda calling you to check in during her break. 

“Hey,” you said absentmindedly, leaning back against your pillows. 

“This is, uh— this is the right number, right? It’s Steve.”

Your heart nearly burst out of your chest at the sound of his voice. “Hey, yeah, it’s the right number,” you assured. You wriggled out of your housecoat and tossed it to the side so you could get more comfortable. “How are you? It’s been a few days.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I, uh,” he paused. “I think I psyched myself out of calling you.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “Well, I’m glad you did call. I really missed you.”

“You did?”

You laughed, letting yourself get more comfortable. “Mhmm,” you replied. “I mean, we’ve been talking everyday for a while, you know?”

“I missed you too, couldn’t stop thinking about you, even at work.” You smiled, remembering how absentminded he had seemed when you showed up in the ice cream parlor. And he was thinking about you. Not you, but still you. “I— uh— had to walk into our deep freezer to cool myself off.”

“How long has it been for you?” You asked suddenly. “Like, since you’ve had sex.”

Steve chuckled nervously. “I dunno… two months?” He paused. “Is that lame?”

“Nuh-uh, baby,” you assured. “Think it’s sweet. No wonder you’re all needy all the time. You need a nice, tight, wet pussy to sink into, hm?”

A low moan escaped his lips. “God—“

“Better than your hand, isn’t it?” You teased. “I bet you’re so desperate that you’ve been touching yourself this whole time, even before you called me. Isn’t that right?”

The closest thing you got in response was another pretty moan. “You’re big too, aren’t you?” You mused aloud, not even waiting for a response. “I know you are, you’ve basically told me in not so many words. Most girls can’t handle that, baby. It’s not your fault. That’s okay, we could take it slow, you could get me all nice and stretched for you, take your time like the gentleman you are.”

“Fuck— fuck—“ His words came out choked and desperate. You could almost picture it— the way he’d be fucking up into his hand, needing more and more.

“I bet you always have to take it real slow, huh? Gotta be careful so you don’t hurt someone. But that just means you can feel everything better, doesn’t it? Inch by inch by inch, every flutter and squeeze. And you can see on their faces how good it feels, can’t you? You can watch their eyes roll back and their mouths fall open while they cry out for you. I mean, Jesus, Steve, I bet most girls come before you’re even all the way inside.”

His hand sped up, desperate and needy, just as you’d said. You could hear it with each wet slap of skin against skin. His moans were constant, a stream of yesahgodfuckohshitahyesahfuckfuckfuck— until the prettiest moan escaped his lips, all low and deep, and you knew he’d made a pretty mess of himself. 

“Bet that felt really nice,” you said while he panted on the other end of the line. 

He made a weak noise, then finally managed a, “Uh-huh. Fuck.”

You laughed softly. “That’s gotta be the fastest I’ve gotten you off,” you said finally. “I like having that much power over you. It turns me on so much.”

He groaned. “Fuck, give me five— no— ten minutes. I can barely breathe right now.”

You grinned, relishing in your ability to torture him a bit after he’d teased you at work. Unknowingly, of course, but still. “I dunno if I can wait that long, Steve… I’m so wet that my thighs are all sticky.”

“God, you’re killing me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatics. “Why don’t you lay there and listen to me? Be good and keep your hands off, alright? You already came, so don’t get greedy.”

He made a nearly pained noise. “Fine. Fine.”

A smirk spread across your lips as you let your hand move between your thighs. Really, you weren’t exaggerating that much— you found yourself slick and needy when you finally slid your panties down your thighs. Actually, you thought you’d probably have to be a statue to hear Steve Harrington panting and cumming over the phone and stay unaffected.

You could hear his breath catch with every soft moan and whimper, and maybe you got mean and held the phone near your tummy, so he could hear just how wet and messy you’d gotten as you steadily fucked yourself with your fingers. When you got desperate enough, you held the phone against your ear once more. 

“I dunno, Steve… I don’t think my fingers can cut it,” you said, exaggerating the pouty tone of your voice. “I wish you were here to take care of me.”

He groaned, low and muffled. You had a feeling he’d thrown an arm over his face. “You’re so unfair.”

A smile spread across your lips at his words. “No, baby. What’s unfair is that I’m laying here all alone, feeling so empty and needy, and you’re not here to make it all better.” You reached into your nightstand, pulling out the dildo you’d bought for your twentieth birthday. “‘S okay, I can take care of myself just fine. You ever been to a sex shop?”

It got quiet on the line, and you could nearly hear the gears turning. 

“N-no.”

You raised a brow. “Really? But you know what they sell, don’t you?” You paused until he hummed a soft uh-huh. “It’s only fair that I get to use a toy to fill myself up since you can’t do it for me, right?”

“Y-yeah, wanna hear you do it.”

You grinned. “Patience, baby. Gotta get it wet first so it glides in nice and easy.”

Blowing a rubber dick wasn’t how you’d envisioned ending your day, but— what can you say?— spontaneity is the spice of life. You made sure he heard every wet pass of it between your lips, every exaggerated gag as you took it into your throat, the messy smack of your lips. It tasted like a tire and dish soap, but the desperate, restrained sounds he was making made it all worth it. 

Your eyes were watery when you finally pulled the toy from your mouth, certain you’d adequately worked him up for the time being. Plus, you were worked up just as much, if not more— you wanted to just fuck yourself into oblivion already. 

Instinctively, your thighs fell farther apart as you moved the toy between your legs. You let the tip tease your entrance, only a little, before you began to push it inside. A soft moan fell from your lips as you finally got the nice, full feeling you’d been dreaming of. 

You laid there for a moment, letting your body adjust to it, reveling in it. With your free hand, you slowly circled your clit until your cunt fluttered around the intrusion. 

“Feels so nice,” you sighed, lips brushing against the mouthpiece of the phone. You felt drunk and hazy with desire. “Like I’m so close already that I can taste it.”

“Make yourself come for me,” he practically begged. “Wanna hear it.”

You moaned at his words, but shook your head. “Can’t yet. I wanna make this last.”

Time felt a little hazy as you kept working the toy in and out, slow and deep. Occasionally, you’d brush against your clit just right, or the toy would find a nice spot inside of you, and your entire body would tremble with need. 

Steve’s breath came in pants over the phone, but you couldn’t tell if he had broken and actually started to touch himself. You kind of hoped he did, even if you wouldn’t say it. 

Eventually, you came without warning— the build-up of it all made it impossible to avoid. Once you started over that edge, you couldn’t crawl back even if you’d wanted to. Moans fell from your lips as you succumbed to your orgasm; every nerve was like a live wire. When it finally came to be too much, you slipped the toy out and relaxed onto your bed with a contented sigh. 

“Are you still alive?” You asked, quiet crackling over the phone. 

“Uh… yeah,” he replied, a little distracted. “Have you ever come without having to touch yourself?”

You laughed softly. “Once. I read in Cosmo that some girls can get off just from playing with their tits. Took a while, but I eventually got there. Why?”

“I just, uh… listening to you, all the noises and hearing how wet you were… I guess that was all it took.” He sounded so embarrassed, but it was the cutest fucking thing you’d ever heard. You could imagine it so clearly, his cock pulsing against his twitching stomach, cum making puddles around his navel. 

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” you said with a smile. “You’re probably exhausted, huh?”

He laughed a bit. “A little, but I can stay up and talk, if you’re free.”

Ever the gentleman, Steve stayed up another hour to talk about whatever you could think of to keep the conversation running. The new collection at The Gap, whether or not he planned to see Back to the Future, his favorite music got him talking for half an hour at least. Finally, you were yawning and beat. 

“Steve, baby, I should go to sleep,” you said, almost apologetically. 

“That’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You froze, brows furrowing. “What?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeated, sleepily. “At the mall.”

“Um… night,” you said quickly, panicking slightly as you hung up the phone.

Steve had mopped the same spot on the floor five times during his shift, all while sparing fleeting glances towards Waldenbooks, where you were immersed in a magazine or a book. Always doing anything but looking down at him. 

Which was good… maybe? He couldn’t quite decide.

He hadn’t been thinking when he said that on the phone. But he was sleepy, and his brain was a little foggy, and then he’d gone and doubled down. 

As soon as he hung up the phone, he remembered that he had given his real name, and you knew he worked in food service, and you knew he wore a stupid uniform. That narrowed it down really easily. 

So he spent his shift in a constant state of dread and panic, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

By the time the mall was closing, he had occupied himself with wiping down tables. He let Robin head home and pulled out his Walkman to keep him company. Since working at Starcourt, he made a pretty sick collection of tapes that wound up in the lost and found. This one was a metal mix, which typically wasn’t his thing, but was growing on him. 

He didn’t realize you were standing over him until you rapped twice on the table, drawing his eyes up, up, up until they were locked with yours. He scrambled to pause the tape and stand up, adjusting his stupid uniform as an embarrassed blush grew on his cheeks. 

“Hi,” you greeted. Your Waldenbooks vest hung loosely on your form, right on top of a pink polo. 

“Hi,” he echoed. It was quiet for a second, as he tried to think of what to say, and as you scrambled for the words you’d been practicing all day. “I’ve known it was you for a while.” The words escaped him before he could stop himself, and then he just stared at you, completely mortified. 

You laughed, covering your face for a moment as heat flooded your cheeks. “You knew? I didn’t even— I mean, I didn’t realize. Because I knew it was you calling. For a while, actually. 

He grinned, leaning forward. “So… the guy you said you wanted to… against the shelves…?” When you ducked your head and looked away, he smiled like the cat who got the cream. “No way. You were totally perving on me, even before!”

“You had to walk into a deep freezer to cool off because you were thinking about me, perv.” He laughed, and you wanted to kiss him so badly it freaked you out a little. “So… What do we do now? I mean, now that you know who I am, and I know who you are, and we’re going to keep running into each other.”

Your poor cuticles were going through the wringer— red and stinging where you picked at them due to nerves. There was nothing you wanted more than for him to just sweep you into his arms like some kind of fairytale and promise his undying devotion. Or just say he wanted to date you. Whichever.

“I could take you on a date,” he said sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. “I mean, if your type is total pervs who spend most of the week in sailor uniforms.”

Oh, you had plans for that sailor uniform. You stepped forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I think you just might be in luck.” He turned his head, just slightly, so he could capture your mouth with his. 

The kiss was sweet, at first. Slow brushes of his lips against yours. They tasted sweet, like he’d been wearing lip smackers or something. Or maybe he’d been sneaking samples of the ice cream. He pulled you closer and you gasped, offering him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moaned softly at the feeling of your tongue licking against his. 

He picked you up easily, sitting you down on the table he should’ve been cleaning. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms around his neck. It was easy to lose yourself in the hungry, desperate way Steve kissed. You could’ve stayed right there in the middle of Scoops making out with him until the mall opened in the morning, and still not have found the motivation to stop. 

A bright light startled you back into reality, shining directly in your faces. You and Steve squinted in the general direction, as Starcourt security stomped your way. 

“Hey! Get the fuck home,” He shouted, with equal amounts of exasperation and annoyance. He clicked off the flashlight and walked away with a huff and an eye roll, leaving you and Steve alone.

Steve’s cheeks were flushed pink with embarrassment as he stepped back, but he still wore a dopey grin on his lips. You hopped off the table and adjusted your skirt with a light laugh. 

“That was nice,” You said as you tucked a loose curl behind your ear. “I should leave you to it, I guess. Before we both end up in mall jail.” 

He shook his head quickly. “No! I mean, you could hang out here until I’m done. I just have a few more tables to clean and chairs to stack, if you want to—” He trailed off, looking at you expectantly. 

A sly grin spread across your features. “What? Are you trying to go home with me or something?” He stammered nervously, that same, cute blush growing on his cheeks. Before he could say anything, you took a step closer and peered up at him. “Because if you are, I might tell you that my roommate works nights at Hawkins General, and we’d have it conveniently all to ourselves.”

He swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to do.”

You sat in the booth nearest to the entrance of the parlor, flipping through a magazine you’d grabbed from work. Occasionally, you’d sneak tiny peeks of Steve bent over a table to wipe it down, uniform stretched tight over his ass, and grin behind the pages. 

He got everything locked up in what he claimed was record time, flashing a smile as he closed up shop behind the two of you.

”Do you work tomorrow?” You asked, as casually as possible as the two of you approached your cars in the employee lot. 

“Yep. Afternoon shift,” he explained.

“I’ll drive you. We’ll carpool tonight.”

The car ride was relatively tame, a few stolen glances at stoplights at most. When you brought him inside the house, your phone was ringing off the hook. You apologized and ushered him into your room, where, true enough, the spare phone you used for the hotline was ringing nonstop. 

“Sorry, let me just…” You grabbed the phone and hung it up once, before taking it off the receiver completely. “There. No interruptions.”

Steve grinned, surveying your room carefully. The set of pom-poms from high school on a shelf, a stack of Cosmopolitan magazines, the chair full of your laundry— fuck, you should’ve definitely taken a moment to speed clean before letting him inside. 

“So… what do you say we pick up where we left off?” You stood on your tiptoes and pecked his lips chastely before guiding him towards your bed. As soon as he sat down, you wasted no time in crawling into his lap and kissing him with all of the pent-up frustration of weeks of phone calls. 

You kissed him for so long you’d have to come up panting for air, before diving right back in. His hands— Jesus, you’d never noticed how big his hands were— were splayed out over your hips at first, but had moved down to grab your ass, encouraging each movement as you rocked against him. 

Without breaking the kiss, you shrugged off your work vest, so it fell into a heap over the side of your bed. He pulled back, chest heaving slightly as he caught his breath. His lips were swollen from use and spit-slick. His eyes moved from the vest on the ground, then back to your eyes. A tiny laugh escaped you before you pulled off your top, then your bra. 

“This still okay?” You asked, as you stood briefly and tugged down your denim skirt. The sound of your voice felt almost foreign in the quiet room, while he took in the sight of you in nothing but a pair of panties.

“God, more than okay,” he assured, before pulling you onto his lap for another heated kiss. This kiss was needier— you could feel it in the hungry way he licked into your mouth, and the feel of him hard beneath you. Tiny gasps pushed past your lips as you rocked against him just right. 

He moved his hands from you only to pull off his work shirt, and the white shirt he wore beneath it. Your hands immediately went to his chest, running through the chest hair he’d hidden beneath the uniform. How the fuck did he manage to walk out of his house without being immediately pounced on by every woman in a five-mile radius?

 He placed one final kiss on your lips before pulling back and meeting your gaze. As earnestly as you’d ever, he asked, “Can I go down on you?”

Yes. Fuck, yes. Oh my god, yes. “Sure, if you want to.”

He smiled wide. “Yeah? Just relax for me, alright?” He shifted the two of you, so you were lying on the bed and he was on top of you. He planted a chaste peck on your nose, and you wrinkled it in reaction. 

You kissed him one, fleetingly, before letting him kiss down your chest and tummy. He parted your thighs and carefully positioned himself between them. You met his gaze and felt your stomach somersault. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the damp fabric of your panties.,

“Fuck,” he mumbled against you. “You’re soaking for me, huh?” And there was that cocky grin you’d seen at the mall before. You had to lie back and put a hand over your eyes, because if you thought about that fucking smug expression for too long, you’d cum untouched. 

He ran his tongue over the fabric of your panties, tasting you through the saturated satin once, twice before he pulled them down your legs. And he fucking moaned like a man starved at the sight of you. 

Heat burned in your cheeks as you felt him spreading you open, and at the slick, wet sounds of your own arousal. “You’re so pretty.” And then his tongue was on you, lapping up your juices, savoring all of you. 

“O-oh, fuck—“ Your moan came out like a sob as his nose brushed against your clit, making your thighs tremble. He moaned against your cunt, nuzzling deeper like he couldn’t get enough. 

In retrospect, he had brought up how much he loved eating pussy a lot on that first call. Your hips bucked slightly, torn between chasing the feeling and overstimulation. His lips would wrap around your clit and suck softly before he would go back to lapping at you, his tongue parting your folds and teasing your entrance. 

“St-Steve!” You cried out, fingers tangling in his hair. The slightest tug on his locks made him moan against you, which made your toes curl. 

Your moans became pitchy and breathless as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. All of your muscles were wound up tight, itching for release. 

All it took was a little bit of eye contact and you were done for. You sobbed out a moan as he lapped up your release— each lap of his tongue sending electricity up your nerves. When he finally relented, you were shaking with aftershocks and giggling. 

“Something funny?” He asked with a grin as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

You sighed and spared a glance over at him. “I’ve been dreaming of that happening since our first call.” He grinned as you pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. 

“Did it meet your expectations?” He asked, swallowing nervously as you shifted to accommodate your hand between the two of you. His eyes fluttered shut as your hand slipped beneath his work shorts and boxers to grasp his cock in your hand. 

You gave a slow, experimental stroke of your hand and nodded. “Two thumbs up.”

He swallowed hard as you removed your hand to completely undress him, leaving you both completely naked. You spit into your hand and wrapped it back around his length, holding eye contact as you jerked him off.

There was something so surreal about the entire situation— having him beneath you, warm and pulsing and slick in your hand. Each time your thumb brushed along the head of his cock, he cried out with the prettiest moan.

“W-wait—“ he said quickly, a look of panic in his eyes. You stilled your hand as he looked at you, a pretty blush painting his cheeks. “I’m not gonna last.”

You bit your to keep from grinning like an idiot. “That’s okay,” you said with a smile. You reached into your bedside table and retrieved a condom. “Do you want to, uh, go all the way?” 

He nodded quickly. “Yes. Yes, please.”

You tore open the packet and rolled the condom on. “How’s that feel? Alright?” He gave a dorky thumbs up, which made you laugh. You leaned down to kiss him once more and wondered if you’d ever get tired of that feeling. 

You reached between the two of you and guided his tip through your folds, coating it in your arousal until you grew too needy and lined him up with your entrance. It was a stretch, even though he’d gotten you plenty worked up with his mouth. You sank down slowly, one hand splayed against his chest to keep you steady as you took in inch after inch. 

The sounds that escaped him as you lowered yourself onto him were so pornographic you thought he should be the one working the hotline instead. Desperate panting moans slipped past his full lips as his hands clawed at your hips.

“Fuck,” he moaned, eyes half-lidded as he watched you. “That’s it. You can take it.”

The mouth on him. You moaned softly as you finally settled onto his lap and he was fully sheathed within you. You stayed still, letting your body adjust to and relish in how full you felt. 

“You look so pretty right now,” he said, reaching up to brush a messy hair from your face. You laughed softly as your cheeks warmed, and a funny fluttering in your chest nearly stole your breath.

“Says you,” was all you could manage to say back. You were hyper-aware of the feeling of him within you, of each flutter of your walls around him.

You gave an experimental roll of your hips and his head fell back, against the pillows, exposing the column of his throat. You relished in the way he looked beneath you— debauched and needy. 

It was easy and slow at first. Each time you moved, you would lower yourself back down slowly, letting him savor the feeling of you, warm and wet and needy. He groaned each time you settled back on his lap, eyes hooded with lust as he looked up at you.

You gave a lazy smile as you looked down at him, moaning each time his cock brushed against your sweet spot. “Can I go a little faster?”

He nodded, eager for whatever you could give him. Your nails raked against his chest as you began to ride him in earnest, the back of your thighs slapping against his as you bounced on his cock. 

Your head fell back as you rubbed at your clit with your free hand. Soft moans spilled from your lips as you relished in the culmination of all of your fantasies. Because he was there, splayed out beneath you like a fucking pornstar, and you had him all to yourself. 

His fingers dug into the plush of your hips as he began meeting your thrusts halfway, fucking into the heaven between your thighs. 

Your eyes rolled back as he fucked himself deeper and deeper, stealing your breath with each thrust. “Close,” you practically squeaked out. Red marks stood out against the freckles skin of his chest where you searched desperately for purchase. 

Steve’s hair was stuck to his forehead, tacky from exertion. “Need you to cum for me,” he managed between pretty moans. “Wanna feel you cumming around me.”

You whimpered at his words, riding him harder as your orgasm hit like a tidal wave. A fucked-out moan escaped you as you collapsed against his chest, hips weakly stuttering as Steve continued fucking up into you. With your pussy gripping him like a vise, he could only manage a few good thrusts before he came with a groan. 

You laid there on top of him as you caught your breath, wearing a stupid, giddy smile as he traced mindless shapes onto your back. His face was buried in your neck, where he left sweet, wet kisses. After a while, you slid off of him and sighed, missing the way it felt when he was still buried inside of you. You did your best to clean yourself off with the towel hanging from your bedpost as Steve tied off the condom and tossed it in the bin. 

“We’re not just…” Steve began once you were both comfortable in your bed. He let the words linger for a moment before he shook his head. “Never mind.”

You turned on your side to face him, adjusting your blankets for a bit of modesty. “We’re not just fucking? That’s what you’re asking, right?” He nodded quietly. “It was nice, but no, that’s not all I want.”

He grinned. “Yeah? You wanna be my girlfriend? I totally pulled a cougar.” His stupid grin made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t keep a matching smile off of yours. 

“You’re so annoying,” you said, not giving him a second to react before your lips were on his again. You pulled back and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. 

In the morning, you woke up in his arms as sunlight crept through the window. You squinted at the sun, then back at him. “Still want me to drive you to work?”

“No way,” he said, muffled against the column of your throat. Soft kisses peppered against your skin, making you giggle and arch into him. “I’m calling in.”

[drippingsteve]

Stuck

Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female! Reader

Word Count: 833

Warnings: 18+, FWB to..?, stuck in an elevator trope, feelings talk, making out, heavy petting, grinding, unfinished business ;)

A/N: This one is so special to me. It came to me suddenly, and I had to stop what I was doing to write it. Let me know if you guys like it. I want to keep writing--thinking about making a masterlist soon. Enjoy!!! xoxo

“I don’t trust this thing,” Steve huffs, the crumpled box in his arms wavering as he presses the elevator button. “You know how I feel about elevators.” 

“Yes, I know. But it’s faster, and we have to bring this whole stack down.” You gesture to the pile of boxes filled with various old tapes. 

Old tapes don’t sell enough to keep on the shelves, so they have to go downstairs until the end-of-year sale. You and Steve have been tasked with the job of transporting the tapes to the glorious, cobweb-filled basement while Robin runs the counter. 

Together, you heave the boxes into the elevator one by one. When Steve lifts the last box, you catch the way his biceps flex, a concentrated look plastered on his face. 

The last time you saw that face was when he had you pinned against his bed, whining under him. Just thinking about it turns you on. 

“C’mon.” He motions for you to step in, snapping you out of your trance. 

“Sorry,” you murmur. “Distracted.” 

His lips turn up in a smug expression as he pushes the button for the basement. 

The doors close slowly, a dramatic creak echoing as you stand there in silence. 

When the doors finally shut and the elevator rumbles to a start, he turns to you. “Thinking about last night?” 

“No,” you respond quickly. “Don’t flirt with me. I told you–”

“Yeah, yeah. Last night was the last time. You say that every time. What’s so wrong about us hooking up, anyway?” 

You don’t have a chance to answer his question. The elevator comes to a stop abruptly, thudding against the cables. The yellow light flickers and dies before your eyes, leaving the two of you in complete darkness and silence as the hum of the elevator stops. 

“We must’ve lost power.” You break the silence but get no response from Steve. “Steve? Are you okay?” You reach out for him blindly, making contact with his shoulder.

“Yeah, I- I’m fine. Totally chill with… this.” He manages, but his voice is an octave higher than usual. 

“It’s okay. We’re probably only a few feet from the ground, anyway. Robin will reset the breaker, and we’ll be fine.” You assure, giving his shoulder a squeeze. 

He nods, then realizes you can’t see him. “I’m nodding.” 

You smile. “Okay. C’mere.” You slide your hand down his arm, grabbing his hand to pull him closer. 

He settles against you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Y’so confusing,” he murmurs into your hair. 

Your stomach twists with guilt. “I know. I’m sorry.” You lay your cheek against his chest. “It’s not that I don’t wanna keep sleeping with you. I do. It’s just…” You can’t finish the sentence. 

“Is it not good?” 

“No! It’s good. Really good. Too good. I don’t know.” You sigh. “When we first hooked up, we established that it was just that. Hooking up, no strings attached.” 

“Yeah..?”

“Well, I can’t do that anymore. It’s… more for me, now. Strings are attached.” You clear your throat. “I’m sorry.”   

You expect him to pull away from you, to push you away, even. Instead, you feel his hand roam up your side and cup your jaw. 

He whispers your name. “What if I told you… that I’ve had strings attached for months? Since you first started working here.” 

“Really? Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I thought you wouldn’t want to be with me,” he responds quickly, showing you how much he’s thought about this. “Thought you just wanted to fuck.”

“That’s not what I want.” You angle your head up toward him, fingers threading into the hair on the back of his head. 

You pull each other in, lips finding one another’s despite the darkness. The kiss is soft and sweet, in contrast with the hungry way he usually kisses you. 

He kisses you again, deeper this time, then pulls away just enough to whisper against your lips. “Good. Because I want more.” 

He kisses your forehead, your cheek, your nose, murmuring sweet nothings before each kiss.

“Wanna take you out to dinner.” 

“Wanna hold your hand when we’re with our friends.”

“Want you to be my girl.” 

You melt into him, grabbing the collar of his polo and parting your lips to let him in. 

He backs you up against the stack of boxes, sliding his tongue against yours. The elevator is hot and dark and musty, but you need him closer. 

He lifts your leg, pulling it against his hip and pressing himself against you. You moan softly into his mouth when he grabs your ass and grinds into you. 

Suddenly, the light flickers back on as the elevator hums to life. You and Steve let out a collective groan, wishing Robin had taken a little longer to fix the breaker. 

You pull away to look at each other. Your face is flushed, and Steve’s hair sticks up fourteen different ways. He beams at you. 

“So, um… Wanna go out tonight?”

[drippingsteve]

Keep Going

Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female! Reader

Word Count: 737

Warnings: Smut (18+), mutual masturbation, handjob

A/N: Ahhh, thank you so much for all of the support!!! Here’s a little something I wrote for the prompt “Steve catches reader masturbating!!” Hit up my inbox if you have requests ;) enjoy xoxo

You’re lying on your back, hand between your legs as Steve showers. 

You couldn’t help yourself, really. His sleepy voice in your ear, his warm hand on your thigh–but it was over quickly as he stood and announced that he needed to shower. It was intentional. Dirty, even.

Now, water splashes distantly as you throw your head back. You rub your clit, allowing your other hand to travel up your shirt and squeeze your breast. 

You know you have to move quickly if you want to finish before Steve gets out of the shower, but part of you wants him to find you like this–sprawled out on his bed, playing with yourself. 

You find it hard to keep yourself quiet, moaning quietly into the morning air. 

The shower shuts off with a squeak, and you hear the curtain being pulled back. You don’t stop. Instead, you move faster, chasing your orgasm. 

“Woah. Couldn’t wait for me?” Steve says with a smirk as he enters the room. You pause your motions but spread your legs so he can see the dark wet patch on your underwear. 

“You teased me. And left me. I couldn’t help myself.”

He takes in the sight, desire flooding his face. 

“Keep going,” he commands. 

You do as he says, letting your hand slip back into your panties. You throw your head back against the plush pillow, moaning as your fingers make contact with your sensitive clit. 

The towel hangs low on Steve’s hips, beads of water traveling down his sculpted body. You can smell his body wash from the bed, and the scent nearly drives you feral. 

“Please,” you say weakly, reaching toward him with your free hand. 

He ignores you. “Make yourself come. You were close before, weren’t you? You’re soaked.”

Under pressure now, you move your fingers faster and screw your eyes shut. 

“Look at me, baby,” he coaxes, standing at the edge of the bed. 

You open your eyes to look up at him just in time for him to peel the towel off and wrap his hand around the base of his cock. 

Steve strokes himself slowly and firmly as his eyes dart between your face and your drenched underwear. 

Your mouth hangs open as you watch each other. In this moment, you have complete control over one another. 

You feel your orgasm approaching, and he knows it’s coming. He jerks himself faster when he hears the pretty noises leave your lips. 

“Steve,” you moan. “I’m gonna come.”

He moves to the edge of the bed. “C’mon babe, lemme have it,” he groans. 

Your back arches off the bed, toes curling as the orgasm hits you. You try to keep your eyes open to watch him pump his fist even faster, but you relent and close your eyes as you shudder and come down. 

“Fuck, Steve. Let me.” You sit up on your knees as fast as your wobbly body will allow and wrap your fingers around him. 

He hisses, grabbing your neck and pulling you in for a kiss as you set a quick pace. The kiss is rushed and messy, and he tastes like toothpaste as he licks into your mouth. 

He’s been hard since before he even showered, so he finds it impossible to hold back his orgasm any longer. When you start kissing his neck, it’s over. 

This is your favorite part. The way he drops the tough guy act and gets all needy for you when he’s desperate like this. You love watching his pretty face when he comes, but for now, you’ll settle for grazing your teeth against his neck, sucking a mark you’ll love to admire later. 

You feel him come, warm and messy against your stomach. 

 He breathes heavily into the hair on top of your head as your slicked hand slows to a stop. 

You hum, gazing up at him. You sit in silence for a moment, just looking into each other’s eyes. 

Shortly after, you pull away, making your way toward the bathroom to clean up. “Can we go back to bed?” 

“I have to go, love,” Steve replies. “I said I would help Jonathan move.” 

You groan dramatically in response. “When will you be home? You didn’t even get to fuck me,” you complain from the doorway.

Steve chuckles. “I’ll move on double time.” He throws you a wink before pulling his boxers on. 

“Good. I’ll be waiting.”

[harringtonsugar]

Jealous Girl

summary: watching other girls think they have a chance with steve hits a nerve inside of you that you thought you buried. looks like you’ll just have to remind him who he belongs to.

warnings: smut, p in v sex, public sex, getting caught during sex, finger sucking, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, tiniest bit of sub!steve - actually maybe just switch!steve, jealousy, cursing, probably more!

word count: 4k

from jen: longer than i hoped but i really love this one and i hope you guys do too. as always, with love <3

The bar was lit up by multi colored flashes. It almost felt like the walls were banging from the loud bass coming from the live band. The floor was full of people dancing, drinking and laughing. There was a smell in the air – cheap vodka, twelve different kinds of perfume and shitty bar food. It was overstimulation thrown into one building.

But it was so much fucking fun.

You, Robin and Nancy were dancing – well, attempting to – in the middle of the dance floor. Eddie and his buddies were to thank for the volume of the music as they played their cover of Enter Sandman.

The three of you were three drinks and two shots into the night and it was obvious Robin was already drunk, Nancy was teetering the line, and you were in a state of blissful tipsy.

It was a three day weekend and for the first time in months, the whole groups schedule managed to align perfectly. While you and the girls danced, Steve and Jonathan were ordering more drinks at the bar.

Steve Steve Steve Steve Steve

As soon as your brain reminded itself of your boyfriend, your eyes began to scan the crowd. You were a clingy girl on a regular day, but adding alcohol into the mix? You were about five seconds from sewing your skin to his.

Nancy and Robin continued to dance together as you stood on the tips of your toes to look for him. He was basically a damn tree, it shouldn’t be hard to find him!

Finally, your eyes graze over the far right side of the bar and you see his beautiful floppy hair. His back is to you on the dance floor, and he stands shoulder to shoulder with Jonathan as they wait for the drinks.

A dopey smile breaks onto your face at the sight of him, your feet are tingling to run to him. Quickly, you turn to the girls and grab their arms.

“C’mon! Steve’s at the bar!“ You urge them and make it a point to ignore the way they playfully roll their eyes. You don’t wait before you’re making your way to him, practically skipping the whole way.

You kept your eyes on him as you approached him. He still hasn’t turned around but with the view of his back, you were not complaining. Steve and Eddie had grown even closer this last year and he wanted to support Eddie so much that he’d bought a brand new outfit for tonight.

He still didn’t quite capture Eddie’s metal style but he tried. He went with an all black outfit: a nicer pair of new black jeans, a plain black shirt – a fitted one. One that clung to his skin so nicely you could see every ridge of muscle he had in his abdomen – and a new leather jacket thrown over it.

Truth be told, you were about five seconds away from devouring him. But tonight was about being with friends and you wanted to spend time with them, even if your boyfriend looked like that.

You were only a few feet away from reaching him when a girl slid into the chair next where he stood. The movement was so slick, effortless – like she fit right next to him. She rested both her elbows atop of the bar, swirling the barstool so her legs were only a few inches from his waist.

She had a look in her eye and you recognized it immediately, because it was the exact one you had. Hunger, desire, want. All aimed at your boyfriend.

Easily, she raised her hand and slid it up his bicep. Steve looked at her then, expecting it to be you but when he saw it wasn’t, his eyes flickered down to her palm on his arm.

Immediately, he dropped his arm from where it leaned on the bar and turned away. He was still looking at her but he pushed himself backwards, almost until his back was fully leaning into Jonathan’s chest. It might have been funny if it wasn’t for the girl touching him.

Still, it didn’t seem to deter her. She smiled up at him, the gloss on her lips glistening under the flashing red lights. You couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying from where you stood and a few seconds later, Robin and Nancy barreled into your back.

Their confusion quickly dissipated when they realized why you had stopped. The girl had leaned even closer into Steve’s spaced, her chin resting in one of her palms. She was still smiling up at him – not a friendly smile, a sultry one. She was a beautiful girl, there was no denying it and you wondered if Steve also noticed.

Jealousy bubbled in your chest. You weren’t worried about him or his loyalty, but there was no reasoning with a drunk version of yourself seeing another girl flirt with him.

Without much thinking, you resumed your walk towards him – Nancy and Robin hot on your tail. Now, you were able to hear the conversation.

“Uh yeah, I’m not sure,” Steve’s voice rang in your ears first. “My girlfriend picked the spot,”

Good. He mentioned me. She’ll get the hint, you think.

“Girlfriend?” The girl echoed, her fingers tapping against the counter top. “Is she here?”

“Yep,” Steve replied. You could tell he was uncomfortable and he was being as dry as he could be without coming off as an asshole. From behind him, you noticed the way Jonathan also seemed to look uncomfortable.

“Hmm,” She hummed. Her eyes raked down his body before looking back up at him. The same hand he shrugged off only a few minutes earlier came back up and landed on him again, her fingers curling around his elbow. Finally, you were right next to Steve, but neither of them noticed yet. “I don’t see her anywhere,”

Before Steve could respond, your own hand raised and you easily grabbed hers and pushed it off him again. You barely glanced at her as you wrapped your own arms around his neck, pushing your chest into his own.

When Steve looked down at you in his arms, you felt his entire body relax. He didn’t spare another glance at the girl before his arms wrapped around your waist and tugged you closer to him.

“Hi baby,” You smiled, leaning on the tips of your toes to kiss him. He smiled into it and you could feel the girls eyes burning into the back of your head. Steve murmured a greeting back against your mouth, but before he could deepen in, you maneuvered your body to lean your back to his chest.

The girl looked at you now, almost glaring at you, but you smirked back at her.

“Thanks for keeping my seat warm. You can go now,” Your voice was syrupy sweet but it was more than clear how little kindness it carried.

Her eyes narrowed just a bit. “I was actually pretty comfortable,”

You sent her a fake sympathetic pout. “I’m sure you were – not anymore though,”

Even if there was a part of you that could have felt even remotely threatened by her, the warmth of Steve’s body behind you and one of his hands holding onto your hips and the other arm wrapped around the front of your shoulders, silenced those feelings immediately.

Her eyes glanced down and she seemed to also notice the way he was holding onto you. She scoffed before reaching over the bar, quickly plucking a pen and a napkin before scribbling over it. When she finished, she hopped off the stool and stood directly in front of you, the napkin in hand.

She looked back at Steve behind you and slid the napkin towards him. You could feel it now – the way you were glaring at her and from beside you, you saw the way Nancy and Robin also were. “Here’s my number,” She glanced back down at you. “For when you get bored tonight,”

The words landed exactly where she intended them to and if it weren’t for Steve’s arm wrapped around your shoulder, you would’ve pounced on her. He felt the way your body tensed and held you closer to his chest.

Before you could react, Steve raised the napkin. Still looking at her, he crumpled the flimsy paper into a ball and threw it over the other side of the bar. You watched the way her expression pinched, and a look you clearly recognized as embarrassment covered her features. “I’m good.” He said simply, both hands sliding down your sides to land on your hips. Easily, he spun your body around so you were facing him again.

Oh, he was so fucking hot.

Neither of you paid any attention to where the girl wandered off to. Steve was smiling down at you and that was enough for you to feel like you were going insane.

The smile on his face, his rejection of that girl, his hair, his fucking outfit. Nope, you were done restraining yourself.

You grabbed Steve’s hand and glanced over at Nancy, Robin and Jonathan. The three of them were looking at you expectantly but you didn’t give them a chance for questions.

“Be right back,” You rushed, tugging Steve along with you. You heard a small surprised sound come from him as you pulled him along.

“Wait! Where are you guys going?” Nancy asked, and Robin snicked beside her. You didn’t respond as you pulled Steve further into the crowd and towards the other side of the bar. But you were able to catch Robin’s last comment.

“Twenty bucks says they’re gonna bone in the bathroom,”

Hopefully no one takes that bet – because she’s right.

Still holding onto Steve’s hand, you approach the women’s bathroom and swing the door open. When you let go of his hand, he stands directly in front of the doorway, still not entering, and you quickly wander through the stalls to make sure it’s empty.

Once you’re sure it is, you turn back to Steve and you twist the front of his shirt in your hand and drag him into the bathroom.

“Woah baby, wh-what are you doing?” He laughs nervously, quickly catching his balance against the porcelain sink. You lock the door behind him and within seconds, your hands are tugging at his leather jacket and shoving it off his shoulders.

Breathlessly, Steve murmurs your name. First and last.

“Hey, this is the women’s bathroom, all of our friends are outside and anybody could walk in right now,”

He’s so damn cute when he tries to be so serious.

Without his help, you’ve managed to strip his jacket off his shoulders and your fingers are working at unbuckling his belt. As you pull the metal away from the buckle, you look back up at him.

“The doors locked. You’re right, our friends are outside and if anybody walks in,” You pause for a moment and pull his belt from the loops of his jeans, dropping it to the ground. “Then they can watch.”

Something in Steve’s eyes switch and within seconds, his mouth is on yours. It’s messy and desperate, and you’re moaning into his mouth immediately. His hands raise, both palms holding your cheeks as he deepens the kiss.

The sound of your lips sloppily meeting his fills the room and the sound of the band playing begins to fade away as he kisses you. Between your bodies, your hands slip beneath his black shirt and trace the skin of his stomach. You can feel the way his muscles twitch under your touch and he begins to walk forward, until your back his pressed against the wall of the stall.

Steve pulls his mouth away from yours and his lips begin a trail from your lips to your jaw and down your throat. He lands on that patch of skin where your neck and shoulder meet and bites.

You whine into the air, palms sliding up his sides and curling around his biceps. His teeth graze against your skin again, but this time his tongue swipes over it right away to soothe it and then he’s sucking that piece of skin into his mouth.

You can feel the mark already beginning to form and your stomach flips. You bring your hand back up to his face and you pull him away from your neck to kiss him again.

One hand continues to cradle his jaw and the other tangles itself in his hair. All the while, Steve brings his hands between your bodies and shoves your skirt up, all the way until it’s bunched around your waist.

Without breaking the kiss, his large hand splays across your thigh, gripping the skin and hikes your leg up until it’s resting over his hip. His other hand curls around your throat, not to squeeze but to keep you grounded to him.

Steve pushes you further back into the wall and grinds his hips forward. You moan is muffled against his mouth when you can feel the clothes outline of his cock grinding into your core. The denim of his jeans slides perfectly against the cotton of your panties, feeding you a delicious feeling of friction.

Your eyes squeeze shut at the way his hips rut into yours and you’re both whining against each others mouths. His hand slips from its place on your thigh and trails up, up, up until the tips of his fingers graze against the wet spot of your panties.

At this point, you’re not even kissing anymore. The rock of his hips and the touch of his fingers knocks all common sense out of you and you’re left breathing against his mouth. His fingers continue to tease you. He runs them up and down your clothed pussy, still not giving you any skin to skin contact.

“Steve-Steve please,” You’re mindlessly begging for more and you can feel the way he smirks against your lips.

“What is it, baby? Tell me what you need,” He murmurs, carefully tracing the hem of your panties. When his thumb pressed against your clit, you break.  

“I just – I just want you Steve, please,” You cry out, hands tugging at the ends of his hair.

To your surprise, he doesn’t tease anymore. Two fingers curl around the side of your panties, sliding them over and finally, they sink into the warm heat of your pussy.

Steve’s reflexes are quick – his hand flies to cradle the back of your head when you throw it back with a moan, making sure you don’t slam it against the wall.

Your head thuds against his palm and you’re whining into the air as his fingers thrust in and out of you. While you keep your eyes squeezed shut, Steve keeps his eyes on the way his fingers disappear in and out of you.

The air is filled with the sounds of his uneven breathing, your moaning and the sounds of your slick drenching his fingers. Your wetness leaks down his fingers, all the way down to his wrist.

“Fuck baby, you’re soaking me,” He groans, resting his forehead against yours. You whine incoherently and he feels the way you clench around his fingers at his praise.

It’s almost embarrassing how quick he can get you off but your mind finally came back to you. Steve was always the dominant one and he could so easily turn you into putty in his hands, but you came in here with one purpose – and that was reminding him who he belonged to.

With every bit of strength you had left, you opened your eyes back up and look up at him. He was still so lost in the way you were sucking his fingers in that he didn’t notice the mischievous look in you eyes.

Almost reluctantly, you wrapped one of your hands around his wrist and halted his movements. His gaze flicked up to yours, confusion and concern swirling in his expression.

“Why’d you stop me?”

Wordlessly, you drop your thigh from where it rested over his hip and the clack of your heel slamming back onto the floor echoed in the room. Keeping your eyes locked onto his, your fingers worked fast to pop the button of his jeans and the sound of you pulling his zipper down bounces off the walls.

“What was that girls name?” You asked softly, hand slipping into his jeans. Your palm gently grazed his length, but still not touching - teasing him the same way he did you.

“What?” Steve asked breathlessly. He kept his eyes trained on you and the movement of your hands.

“From the bar. What’s her name?”

“I don’t know baby,” He shook his head, groaning when you tightened your grip on him.

“No? Do you think she’s pretty?” Without waiting for a response, your hand slid beneath his boxers and finally, the skin of your palm met his.

He let out a shuddered breath but quickly shook his head again.

“No! No, f’course not. Barely – barely even looked at her,” He promised, mouth dropping open as your squeezed his length in your hand.

You hummed, leaning up to leave open mouthed kisses across his neck. He smelled so fucking good – a mix of sandalwood, your own perfume and something inherently him. It was intoxicating.

“I believe you baby,” You promised and you felt him physically relax. You smiled against his throat. It was nice to be reminded that even though he could turn you into a mindless mess, you did the same to him. Still, you tsked softly and pulled your face from his shoulder. “But she looked so damn comfortable around you. Touching you,”

You pulled your hand from his jeans and rested them against your own thighs, pulling away all contact from him. He whined softly, pushing his hips into yours but you push your palm back into his chest.

“I don’t care,” He said. “Didn’t matter to me. Only you do, baby. Please let me touch you,”

Maybe if you weren’t in public, you would have prolonged the agony but you knew there was a ticking clock before someone came knocking.

And you just really wanted him to fuck you.

Your hands found his jeans again, shoving them down just enough to free his cock. He groaned as the air hit his skin and his forehead settled against yours.

“Prove it to me baby,” You demanded, voice still soft.

Steve didn’t need to be told twice before his own hands were reaching back under your skirt, yanking your panties all the way down until they were wrapped around one ankle. Within seconds, his palms slid to the back of your thighs and lifted you effortlessly.

His cock slid between your soaked pussy and you both moaned at the first feeling of real contact of the night. Steve seemed to share the same sense of working on borrowed time and without words, he wrapped one arm around your waist to hold you up while the other gripped his cock in his hand and lined himself up.

You felt that delicious burn you craved all night the moment he began to push in. No matter how many times he fucked you, it almost always felt like the first time. His hand gripped your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks as he pressed his lips to yours.

Steve groaned against your mouth as he bottomed out, and you whined against his when he started his brutal pace. He felt the way you squeezed around his cock and his free hand squeezed your hip hard enough to bruise.

“Were you jealous?” Steve asks suddenly. His mouth was turned up into a smirk now, his hips still thrusting harshly.

“Yeah, I was fucking jealous,” You didn’t hesitate in your response and your forwardness seemed to take him by surprise. Steve reared his head backwards just a bit, careful enough to not lose his pace and let you continue. “Because that girl thought she could have what’s mine,”

Somehow, you find the strength to drop your hips down, meeting each of Steve’s brutal thrusts. He whines aloud at the way you match his speed, his cock twitching inside you.

“Can they?”

The words fall on deaf ears as Steve keeps his gaze locked on the way your pussy stretches to suck him in. His brows are pinched, cheeks flushed and strands of his hair hang over his forehead messily. As sexy as he looks, you’re dissatisfied with his lack of response. Almost meanly, your hand grips onto his jaw, nails digging into his cheeks to regain his attention.

“Can they?” You repeat when his gaze meets yours again.

“N-No!” He says quickly.

You grin and lean down, you hover your mouth over his – not quite a kiss yet. “Good. You’re mine, Steve. Nobody else gets to have you like this.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement and you both know it.

He nods feverishly and you can feel the way his thrusts begin to get sloppy. He’s close, and you’re right behind him. His fingers dig into the bare skin of your thighs as he pushes his cock deeper into you.

“Nobody else. Just you baby, just - just you,” He blubbers and you’re quickly whining into his mouth again. He buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, one hand sliding between you two to rub circles into your clit.

Your orgasm is fast approaching – you’re almost across the finish line when you suddenly hear the sound of a key sliding into the lock and the door swings open.

But instead of feeling embarrassed or worried, you feel so fucking smug.

Because standing in the doorway is the girl from the bar, a customer key to the restroom in her hand, and her eyes locked on the way Steve fucks you into the wall.

Heat rushes to her face and a blush to intense, her entire face is red. She looks something like embarrassed, mortified and humbled all in one.

Thankfully, Steve hasn’t noticed – or doesn’t care – her interruption and continues fucking you until you’re both teetering the edge of release.

Your arms wrap tightly around Steve’s back and you pull him close to your chest. As you look into her eyes, you give her one final smirk – one that reads: Good. Look at what you’ll never have.

Just as quickly as she entered, she stumbles backwards and slams the door shut.

You let yourself get lost in the feeling of Steve again.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna – fuck,” Steve curses, teeth sinking into the skin of your throat and spills inside you. He keeps his pace as even as possible with the movement of his thumb over your clit and only seconds later, he pulls you over the edge with him.

“SteveSteveSteveSteve,” You whine. His thumb continues moving over your swollen bud, helping you ride out your orgasm entirely.

Once you reach the point of overstimulation, you gently push his hand away from between your thighs. Steve watches the way your head lolls to the side and despite the fact that you had damn near all the power barely five minutes ago, you’ve effectively turned into jell-o.

With a smirk on his face, he raises his two wet fingers and brings them to your mouth. Instinctively, you part your lips when he taps them and he easily slides them into your mouth. You moan around his fingers, the taste of yourself filling your senses.

He groans quietly, gently thrusting them in and out of your mouth. “That prove it to you, baby?”

With your mouth full from his fingers, you give him a nod.

It definitely fucking proved it.