[drippingsteve]

Masterlist

Last updated: 6/2/26

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.

Requests

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

[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.

[loveshotzz]

slow lazy makeout with steve

bonus points for a little dry humping

okay, this turned out to be a little different than what you asked but I hope you enjoy it just the same. it may or may not of been inspired by Allie & Dean’s secret fling in Off Campus.

18+ | fem!reader

You told Steve last week that this wouldn’t happen again.

Just like you said two days ago when he had you pressed against the wall in Tina’s upstairs hallway. Your leg hooked around his hip, grinding against what lived up to all the stories and then some while the party raged down stairs.

Now you’re in his empty basement knees pressing into the couch cushions on either side of his hips, while his big hands adjust you on his lap.

Steve grabs at your thighs tugging you close enough that your breasts press tight against his chest. He nips just under your jaw before peppering open mouth along the length of your neck. Catching the small roll of your hips with a smile against your skin, he pulls away confidently showing you the whites of them.

Grabbing your chin between two fingers, he tugs your face down just enough for his lips to ghost against yours.

“Let me guess, this is the last time.” He whispers against your mouth with a knowing smirk.

”Yes, I mean it.” You huff, unable to control your own grin, rocking your hips again. “Last. time.”

”Whatever you say.”

Steve snorts, not waiting for whatever smart comeback you have waiting on the tip of your tongue. Instead, he curls his hand around the back of your neck, and catches it on his own.

The moan that escapes out of your throat comes stirring from deep within your chest. He huffs out a small laugh at it before licking into your mouth with the kind of hunger that lights a fire along your already heated skin. Meeting him with equal enthusiasm, you apply more pressure with the next grind of your hips making his confidence stutter.

“Fuck —“ He breathes in between kisses, the grip on the back of your neck tightening.

Doing it again, it’s your turn to smile against his mouth, lashes fluttering open to admire the furrow of his brows.

“Better enjoy it while you can.”

His eyes open at that, something darkening the amber that swirls inside of them.

“Who are you trying to convince, honey? Me or you?” Steve smirks with a narrowed gaze filled with determination, the hand on your hip tightening.

“Shut u— ohmygod.”

Your bratty response is cut off, when he drags you over his lap, the seam of your jeans pressing into where you need it most.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.” He chuckles darkly, tearing his lips from your mouth to wrap around your pulse point.

He sucks hard enough for your eyes to hit the back of your head, leaving a bruise you’ll have to deal with in the morning. But when he drags his teeth along the sensitive skin, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Steve, are you down there? I forgot my keys.”

Robin’s voice freezes you in place with fingers curled into the roots of his hair. Steve’s teeth stop right over the already blooming purple mark, the grip on the back of your neck tightening.

“Steve —?” The stairs squeak with the first steps she takes, and it’s enough for him to find his voice.

“Y- yeah!” His voice cracks, and your giggle that follows it earns you a glare.

“My keys, are they down there?” She calls out again, another creak following.

“Shit.” He blows out a breath, pulling away to look around the room, groaning quietly when he spots them on the coffee table.

“Yeah, I got them. Give me a second.” He lays back, running both his hands down his face before meeting your playful gaze.

“It’s getting late, I should probably go.” You smirk, using his broad chest as leverage to push yourself off his lap.

“What? No, she’ll be gone in like 2 seconds.” He whispers harshly trying to grab at your hips, but you slip through his fingers just like this moment.

“I said enjoy it while you can.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Steve stares you down, watching you with heated eyes as you straighten out your shirt and tug up your jeans.

“Never been more serious.” You wink, swiping Robin’s keys off the coffee table before calling out to her.

“I’m heading out too, I’ll bring them up!”

[jediavengers]

orgasm denial w steve !

warnings: 18+, mdni, p in v, m masturbation, voyeurism, edging, orgasm denial, kinda mean!steve, porn w no plot, pure FILTH.

The soft navy blue bedsheets under your clammy figure cling to your back, rustling at every jolt of the bed.

Steve’s body hovers over yours, the rolls of his hips so deep and intentional that you can feel every ridge and vein of his cock.

His brow is deeply furrowed, focused. Your own brows are pushed together, eyes fluttering shut as your lips fall into a soft pout.

The feeling of his length burying into your cunt over and over makes the air in the room grow hotter and hotter. It’s not long before you feel the pleasure you so desperately yearned for begin to creep up on you.

Before the waves of euphoria could even begin to rush over your body, his cock slides out of your trembling hole.

Your once shut eyes fly open, the expression on your face twisting into a look of pure confusion and betrayal.

Subconsciously, your trembling hips buck up towards him, chasing his cock with a needy fervor. “Why— why’d you stop?” You breathlessly demand.

“Just.. hold on.” Steve replies softly, letting his fingertips ghost over the curve of your ribcage.

His body is just as clammy as yours. His breathing is heavy— and he wets his lips as he watches you squirm frustratedly under his gaze.

Slowly, he wraps his long fingers around his length. “Spread em wide for me.” He nearly whispers.

You do, spreading your legs as wide as you could, wiggling your hips towards him again.

Assuming he’s going to slide back into your drenched folds, you let out a small breath of relief.

But instead of doing what you so desperately needed, he only quickened the movements of his right hand.

His cock was still slick with your arousal from early, wet noises echoing throughout the dimly lit room. The pumps of his large hand don’t slow down, instead, he keeps his steady pace.

“Please I—“ You beg, beginning to close your legs for any relief or friction.

With one firm movement, Steve shoves his free hand on the meat of your left thigh, forcing it to stay open. “Stay just like that. Right there,” he croaks, his voice wavering. “Let me look.”

His movements don’t cease. The sight of you so desperate for his cum, for him to be inside of you again, tips him over the edge. He angles his angry red tip down towards your cunt, letting himself succumb to the pleasure.

His cum spurts out quickly, landing over your glistening mound. He nudges his tip right along your pussy, letting his seed paint your puffy skin.

Deep groans leave his lips, your cunt so prettily painted with his cum an indescribable sight.

Your swollen lips are curved into a big pout, tears beginning to leak out of your big eyes.

“Steve—“ You whine, your pussy pulsing with so much need.

Steve collapses on top of you, kissing your nose gently. “Just.. just wait a few minutes, yeah?” He peppers small kisses over your damp skin. “I’ll take care of you, honey. Promise.”

Steve partially keeps his word. Almost immediately, he’s out like a light.

The incessant ache and desire doesn’t subside until he spends the whole next morning between your trembling thighs making it up to you.

[jesus-hotwheel-christ]

Let me make it up to you?

(Older!Coach!Steve Harrington x fem!reader)

Summary : Your sweet husband was supposed to come home hours ago. You're pissed off, anxious, and have to go to bed by yourself. How will he make it up to you?

Warnings : MDNI!!, angst (?) with a happy ending, established relationship (married), Eddie is alive cause I said so (au I guess, no mentions of the upside down or anything), mentions of intrusive thoughts and anxiety, fluff, fingering, p in v unprotected, kinda lazy apology sex (speedbump position), creampie, breeding kink, talks of trying to get pregnant.

A/N : It's finally here! The summer term is kicking my ass, but I finally managed to finish this one. I'm afraid I kinda cooked with this one guys, at least in my opinion. Hopefully you enjoy it as much as I do!

WC : 4,983

************

“God dammit,” you mutter, pacing back and forth in your living room before sinking onto the couch with a huff. Your arm jerks in front of your face, your watch displaying a time that only fuels your anger even more. You let your arm fall back on the cushion as you stare up at the ceiling, your jaw clenching and unclenching in waves of frustration.

It’s dark outside – no moon in the sky, the only soft light coming in through the windows from the lamp posts down the street. The house is quiet. So quiet that it makes the usually unnoticeable ticking sound of your grandma’s grandfather clock annoyingly loud and sinister.

Steve was supposed to be home almost three hours ago. His team of little rugrats had a game that night after school, which sadly you couldn’t attend because of a late shift at work, making you miss out on checking out your hot husband sweating in the sun. Then, after the game, he was going to hang out with Eddie at his trailer for a beer or two. “Home by eleven, honey,” he had told you just this morning.

Now here you are, 1:53 AM being pointed at by that damn clock in an honestly mocking way at this point, with absolutely no pile of brown hair and tan skin to hold you close.

Even though you’ve already tried several times, you get up and stomp over to your pastel yellow phone hanging on the wall. You quickly dial Eddie’s number, knowing it by heart now that you’ve called probably five times already, and wait. It rings and rings and rings and then nothing. “Ughhh…” You snap the receiver back in place forcefully, ire and worry mixing inside you as you slump against the wall.

Being married to Steve had really been a joy. He’s a thoughtful husband, caring, sweet, a little spicy when he needs to be. But sometimes, he gets so excited to be hanging out with his friends that he simply loses track of time. It’s not really his fault, you know that. It’s actually one of the things you love about him, how he gets so enthralled and fully present in the moment that everything else falls away. It’s made you feel like the most important person in the world more than a few times.

But as you have told him time and time again, you just wish he’d call to warn you beforehand. A simple “hey, sweetheart. I’ll be home later than I thought, s’that alright?” Because it’s not like you want to cut his fun short, you know how important his friends are to him and you don’t mind if he’s out late. It’s the not knowing that makes you worry.

When it’s only been fifteen minutes, you can just shrug it off. Maybe he got delayed by a parent after the game, or maybe he stopped at the gas station for a few snacks. But the later it gets with no updates, the less you can easily ignore the thoughts that pop up in your mind. What if he got into a car crash, or what if he’s lying to me and he’s not at Eddie’s. Even though they weren’t always rational, because of course Steve would never deliberately hurt you nor was an accident very likely to happen, those ruminations still buried their roots deep and triggered that buzzing and tight sensation in your chest.

Tonight, it’s no different. Deep down, you know he’s probably in Eddie’s yard, sipping on a beer and talking about God knows what, unable to hear the phone ring inside the trailer over the music they’re listening to. But you still get those intrusive thoughts, and you get pissed off that your husband always forgets to call.

You make your way to your bedroom, slipping out of the sleep shorts you had put on earlier just to be in your comfy oversized shirt you stole from Steve when you were only just dating. An old and softened gray cotton shirt with cracked yellow letters – an almost unintelligible Hawkins High. You slip under the covers, resigning yourself to at least try to sleep. You curl yourself into a fetal position, turned toward your nightstand as you take deep breaths. It takes a few moments to calm your anxiety, but you do eventually fall asleep, the cold darkness of the room cocooning you instead of your husband’s warmth.

Meanwhile, at Eddie’s place, inside the rusty fireplace the metalhead got at a yard sale, the embers are glowing faintly with every soft gust of wind. Steve is talking about his job over the radio, tuned at a station playing nighttime music. He’s been nursing the same beer for over an hour, repeatedly telling Eddie that he needs to leave soon, before they both launch into a new tangent for another thirty minutes.

Eddie’s a night owl. He works afternoons and evenings at an auto repair shop in town, so he doesn’t mind going to bed late.

Steve, on the other hand, finally starts to feel the tiredness. He lets out a yawn before checking his watch. His eyes widen in slight panic, the time having seemingly slipped away from him again. He immediately thinks of you and feels a crushing pang of guilt.

“Shit, man… I’m sorry, but I really gotta go.” Steve says as he gets up and brushes off some dirt from his white baseball coach pants.

Eddie nods and gets up as well, dunking the rest of his beer on the embers to get them to die down even more. “Yeah, no problem, Stevie. S’getting late.”

Steve walks up to Eddie and holds out his hand. The tattooed man shakes it, before he wraps his arm around his friend’s shoulders and pats his back. “T’was good hanging out, man. We should do it more often.”

Steve pulls back with a smile and a slight shove of the other one’s shoulder. “Agreed. Night, Eds.”

“Goodnight, big boy.”

Steve chuckles as he hastily makes his way toward his car. He peels out of the gravel driveway and drives slightly over the speed limit the whole way home, even though he knows he’s way too late for it to actually make a difference. He curses himself internally, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. Every few taps, the gold band on his ring finger catches against the leather, making the knot of guilt grow tighter inside his stomach.

Later, once he finally gets home, it’s about 2:30 AM. All the lights are off, the only sound that creepy grandfather clock. You’re probably asleep, he thinks, so he tries to be quiet as he removes his dulled sneakers and hangs his 'Coach Steve' jacket on the hooks near your front door.

He softly pads down the hallway to your bedroom. He opens the door and peaks inside – you’re turned away from him, your chest expending and shrinking softly, soundly sleeping. He smiles at the sight. Maybe you had fallen asleep earlier and you wouldn’t even know that he’d gotten home late. The knot inside him loosens slightly.

The door clicks shut as Steve makes his way back down the hall toward the bathroom, in desperate need of a shower. He peels off his coaching outfit, the striped baseball shirt, white pants and the socks that almost go up to his knees. Then his boxers come off, before he immediately puts the pile of dirty clothes in the washing machine for tomorrow.

He looks at himself in the mirror, the dust from the field clinging to the skin of his forearms. Speaking of them, his arms are slightly more tanned than the rest of him – a casualty of teaching kids how to play baseball under the hot sun all day. He turns to the side, eyeing the way his belly is a bit softer than how it used to be when you two first met. His hand goes over it, a nagging feeling of insecurity pulling at his flow of consciousness.

But then he remembers your sweet voice just a few nights ago, whispering in his ear how handsome your husband is as you run your hands over his body, grinding against his stomach. You had told him so many times how hot you found his body, peppering soft kisses down his abdomen and licking through his happy trail. It makes him feel better to think about that, a soft smile spreading on his face.

He then bends over the sink to look at his face more closely. He sees the tiny wrinkles starting to become permanent at the corners of his eyes and close to his nose. He sees the very few gray hairs starting to season his brown hair. For some reason, these additions don’t bother him as much. The shallow crow’s feet, the smile lines, the hair – it all makes him feel like he’s getting wiser. And Steve likes that.

He finally gets into the shower, the warm water washing away the dirt and lingering disappointment of his team losing earlier tonight. He’s not even thinking about the fact he came home late anymore.

Once he’s out and mostly dry, except for his damp hair, he makes his way back to the bedroom, cautious to not make a sound. He reaches into his thankfully already opened drawer for a fresh pair of boxers. He pulls them on before he lazily slides into bed next to you, exhaustion starting to weigh down his limbs.

You feel the solid heat of him press against your back as he wraps an arm around your waist, kissing your shoulder softly in an effort not to wake you. But It’s futile. As soon as your husband gets in bed, it’s like your body knows. You awaken and before you can fully comprehend what you’re doing, you wriggle gently out of his grasp with a soft huff.

Steve lifts his arm and pauses, his brows furrowing. You never were one to refuse cuddles, and for a split second he’s confused. Maybe she’s dreaming. “Honey? You awake?”

You sigh and wrap the covers tighter around yourself. “Mm.”

And then it hits him. You had been up waiting for him, and now you’re mad. Shit. His fingers softly graze your spine under the covers, trying to be soothing. “Come on, baby. I’m sorry, okay? ‘M here now.” His voice sounds wrapped in velvet, attempting to get you to forget it.

You don’t turn, frustration and anger still souring your mood. “Just go to sleep, Steve.”

The use of his actual first name makes him physically recoil. He’s used to pet names and nicknames from you, or at least a cute little ‘Stevie’. But tonight, he’s not getting that, and that makes him get defensive. “Fine. ‘Night,” he mutters, turning to face away from you.

You try to ignore how cold the bed feels with that distance between you as you drift back to sleep.

The morning arrives quietly. A warm limb around your waist. Soft breaths hitting the nape of your neck. A hand possessively splaying over your belly under your shirt.

You wake up slowly, feeling confused for a moment. You’re still turned away from Steve, facing the wall, but it’s like he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out for you and holding on in his sleep. The guilt from getting home late and leaving you in the dark was probably too much, and he needed to feel you close.

A soft sigh leaves your lips. You don’t want to give in so easily, to forgive him in an instant like you always do because of those damn puppy dog eyes that are still the same now at thirty-something-years-old.

But he’s so warm against your back. So solid. So… him. Your loving husband.

Fine, just a few minutes. He’s asleep. He won’t know, you tell yourself, sinking back into his sleepy heat.

It lasts for about sixty seconds before you feel the soft press of his slightly chapped lips against the base of your neck. You don’t move, trying to save face and make it seem like you never woke up at all. It’s pointless though – he felt you lean into him.

His voice is rough with sleep when he speaks, a low chuckle leaving him first. “Not mad at me anymore, baby?”

You huff, sure, but you can’t bring yourself to move. Your mind might be a warrior, but your body is weak. “Still pissed, Harrington.”

He coos and kisses your shoulder, his thumb rubbing arcs over the skin of your stomach. “Aww… you know I’m sorry, honey. What can I do to make it better, hm?”

The slow and syrupy quality to his voice is vibrating against your back and resonating through those empty spots inside you that belong to only him. You still hold your ground, though. Maybe your body is weak, and it wants him, but you can still turn this to your advantage. You deserve it after last night.

You scoot just a few inches away, keeping your tone soft. “You could start with a massage.”

You can’t see it, but you can pretty much hear him smirking. He lets out a breath and shifts to sit up against the headboard. “Fair is fair. Come on, sweetheart.”

You look back at him. And you shouldn’t have, cause now it’s incredibly hard to keep your detached and unbothered attitude intact.

His hair is mussed from sleep, looking soft as it sticks out in every direction. The sheets are pooled around his thighs, but he pushes them away to spread his legs, making room for you. Your treacherous eyes linger over the planes of skin scattered with moles, tracing the shape of him. His strong forearms, biteable biceps, broad shoulders and chest, soft stomach… The patch of hair over his thorax that thins just a bit going down his belly, before it thickens under his navel and disappears into his boxers. And oh. His morning wood looks indecent, straining against the fabric and tempting you like a cookie being dangled in front of a starving dog.

Fuck.

He looks entirely too pleased with himself, but he doesn’t comment on your staring. Relaxation emanates from him, and he actually looks like he’s got no ulterior motives. He motions for you to sit in front of him.

You manage to move, the mattress dipping under your weight as you sit in between his legs, your back to him. Instinctively, you reach up to move your hair from your neck and over your shoulder.

His hand finds your waist as he bunches up the shirt you’re wearing. “Can I take it off? It’ll feel better.”

You hum approvingly, raising your arms so he can slip the worn shirt over your head. His hands are immediately splaying on your skin, starting to rub up and down your back to warm you up.

He doesn’t speak at first. He concentrates on making you relax, on taking out the tension he created by being out so late and causing you all that anxiety. His thumbs knead in those spots between your shoulder blades where he knows you carry the most of it.

Soft little sounds spill from your lips, and you can’t help them from coming out. He’s way too good with his hands.

“I really am sorry, you know.” It’s almost a whisper, sincere and unguarded. “I… lost track of time.”

You nod gently, eyes closed, still focussing on his rhythmic motions. “I know, Stevie. I just wish you’d at least remember to call.”

He hums in acknowledgment, his hands going up over your shoulders and squeezing lovingly. He truly feels awful. “I know, baby… Were you worried?”

You let out a soft sigh and nod, your hand finding his knee and curling over it. “Yeah. You know me.”

He hums again, and this time, he sits up and presses his chest to your back, wrapping his arms around you as he leans back against the headboard. The movement makes you rest back against him, and you let it happen.

He feels warm and reassuring, your head tipping back to meet his pec and shoulder. Comfy. His hands start stroking over your stomach as he speaks against your temple.

“I didn’t mean to make you stress, honey. I never do.” He places a soft kiss against the hair there.

“Then why don’t you call? I don’t mind you getting home late, I just want to know so I don’t have to worry if you’re dead in a ditch somewhere.” Your voice is still gentle, not looking to start a fight, just explaining why you were so frustrated.

You feel his hand wander between the valley of your breasts as the other goes down to your thigh.

“S’not an excuse, but it’s like I get too excited or something and I just forget to call. And I don’t even know how that’s possible ‘cause you’re everything to me.”

His head dips down as he starts leaving soft kisses down your neck. You relax more against him. “You really are just a big puppy masquerading as a man, huh?” You say the inside joke with a small smirk, the anger ebbing out of you at his loving words and touches, being replaced with warmth.

Okay, maybe you’re not that much of a warrior after all.

He chuckles and presses his face against the junction of your neck and shoulder, breathing you in. “Let me make it up to you, yeah?” You feel calloused skin cupping your breast tenderly, kneading it as if you also hold tension there.

You let out a non-committal hum, your eyes still closed. But of course, your legs spread slightly without you even giving them the neurological command to do so. Like a stupid reflex – you’re body being so responsive to him. Not giving in was way harder than it should have been.

“S’that a yes, sweetheart?” His hand that was still on your thigh moves to cup your heat over your panties, feeling the damp patch there. He rubs light and lazy circles over it.

Your breath hitches. “Don’t know if you deserve it yet, Stevie.” You try to sound stern, to have some semblance of control, but you both know it’s futile.

He nips and licks over your neck once. “Oh. No? Even if I said I have a whole apology day prepared?” He presses just a bit harder against your pussy, feeling your lips get puffier through the cloth.

You turn your head slightly toward him, brows furrowing as you open your eyes. “An ‘apology day’?”

He smiles at you and nods, before pinching your nipple between his thumb and middle finger. His voice comes out so unaffected, as if he’s not touching you like that and driving you absolutely crazy. It’s both infuriating and insanely hot. “Mhm. I’ll take you to that diner you like for breakfast.”

Your eyes roll back as he finally dips under the waistband of your panties and finds your wet core. He starts to gently trace up and down, gathering some of your arousal on two fingers to start rubbing gently over your clit.

“T-that’s all?” you ask, moans not leaving you yet as you try to stay composed.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Greedy girl. But no, that’s not all. Thought we could go to that shop on Fifth Street, you know the one with all the - “

“Lights?” You finish his sentence. He knows how much you like that home decor shop, loving to walk around the aisles and looking at the set-ups, getting ideas for your own house. They have an incredible lights section, and it never fails to amaze you when you walk through it.

He smiles again, looking down at your lips. “Yeah, that one. I’ll let you get anything you want.” He’s still massaging your breast and pinching your nipple, and now you can feel his fingers circling your entrance.

A whimper leaves your throat, your back arching against him like you’ve finally let yourself feel what he’s doing to you. Your thighs spread wider, silently begging for more.

His mouth opens in reverence as he feels you respond, a low and pleased moan rumbling through him. You can feel his thick length pressing against your lower back, neglected. But he doesn’t care.

“But you know what else, honey?” He asks, his cheek pressing against the side of your head as your hips start rolling against his hand.

You whimper as he slowly presses his middle and ring finger inside you. “W-what?”

The pressure starts building low in your belly as he curls his fingers against your front wall, his wrist making slow circles that makes the heel of his palm rub maddening pressure on your swollen clit.

“I’ll do better. I promise you I’ll call in the future. Can’t have my perfect wife worrying over me for no reason.” He kisses the tender spot behind your ear, the one that smells the most like you as he keeps fucking you with his fingers. His other hand leaves your breast to grip your hip instead, helping you buck against him.

The promise and the way he knows exactly how to touch you after all these years – it gets you close to that sweet edge embarrassingly fast, your walls starting to flutter and tighten around his fingers.

“Fuck, Stevie… gonna c-cum.” You moan out, reaching back to grip his hair as your other hand squeezes his thigh.

“Mhmm…” is all he manages, sucking on the skin of your neck and keeping his hand movements steady as you release around his fingers.

Your hips stutter as your whole body relaxes, the force of your orgasm spreading like a wildfire throughout your body, before making way to a slow-moving wave of relief. Your husband’s fingers slowly come to a stop after he helped you ride it all out, whispering soft praises against your skin.

“There you go.” He says simply, almost looking proud of you, as he lifts his slick covered fingers toward his mouth to suck them off.

Now, Steve meant to stop there. Get you off, take you to breakfast, maybe buy you a nice new lamp. He was perfectly content to not get anything in return. This was about you, after all, and how he could make it up to you after his blunder last night. But at the first taste of your pleasure – as soon as your arousal hits his tongue – all his resolve flies out of the window.

His eyes roll back as he hums at the flavor, a needy and breathy “Fuck” is the only warning you have before he closes your legs and flips you on your belly. He wastes no time tugging your panties off and slipping a thin pillow under your hips.

You’re still recovering from your orgasm, face flushed and pressed into the mattress, so it’s no wonder that you didn’t register him taking off his boxers until you feel him straddle your thighs and press his body over top of yours. The hair on his chest tickles your back, and you can feel his hard and leaking cock against your ass, making you push your hips up slightly.

His breath comes out heavy against your ear, his hands tracing your curves reverently. “Still can’t believe you’re my wife, honey. So damn beautiful. Gonna let me have you, yeah?”

“Please, Stevie…” you nod eagerly.

He grins at the nickname and your pleading tone, pressing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. He sits up and brushes the hair away from your upper back, before running his hands down the expanse of skin. When he reaches down past your hips, he squeezes the globes of your ass and spreads you open, marveling at the wetness slicking your pussy and inner thighs from your first orgasm.

“Look at you.” He lets some spit dribble out of his mouth and onto his cock, making himself slippery as he gives it a few strokes. He lines himself up with your slit before slowly sinking his length into you. “Oh my god…” He says breathlessly, like he still cannot fathom that he gets to be the one to do this.

The stretch is always something, even after all this time. You whimper into the mattress, and he knows that it’s a bit much just by how you sound. He stays still, letting you relax around him. His hands start kneading and massaging over your back again. “Relax for me, honey. Let me take care of you.”

The feeling of being filled to the brim while Steve massages your back so tenderly is definitely up there on your very own list of ‘best sensations in the whole fucking world’. Fairly quickly, the slight sting from the stretch goes away and turns into a dull pressure that just makes you want more.

You push your hips back a bit, as much as you can with your husband’s weight pinning you down, making him go just a bit deeper. You whimper – a sound so addictive that Steve would gladly give up listening to music if it meant he could hear it on loop. “Please, Stevie… Move.”

His hands that were steadily working out tension over your shoulders slide down your back until he reaches your hips. He pulls out almost all the way, only leaving the tip in, making you mewl at the emptiness. “Anything for you. Anything.”

He pushes back in and starts a slow pace designed to make you feel every inch of his thick cock splitting you open over and over again. He always knew when to be rough and when to be gentle.

“Taking me so well, honey.”

“Look at that, so perfect for me.”

“Wanna make you feel so good, angel.”

He keeps praising you as his eyes are transfixed on his dick disappearing inside you, your arousal coating his length and leaving a milky ring at the base. The hair there, trimmed but still kind of bushy, is flattened down from the wetness.

Your fingers are clenching the sheets, face buried in them as your moans grow louder. There’s no where you can go when you’re on your belly like this, and you’re more than happy to just take it.

Steve’s moans grow heavier, some sweat starting to bead at his forehead. He pushes his hair back before leaning over you, bracing one hand next to your head as his other keeps holding your hip. The new angle hits that spot inside you, the one that has you seeing stars.

“Oh fuck, Stevie! Right t-there!” You take hold of his wrist by your head, your needy moans sending a shiver up your husband’s spine.

His hips keep a constant, devastating, but still slow enough pace for you to feel everything. “Yeah, baby? Right there, huh?” He moves to sink his fingers in your hair and tug gently, making you turn your head so you can see him.

You nod and whimper, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth as the coil tightens in your belly. You feel your abundant slick drip down on the mattress, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“D-don’t stop…” You whimper out, your walls tightening around him like they never want him to leave.

Steve curses under his breath, his hand grabbing your hip again to keep you at the perfect angle. “Wasn’t planning on it. Ahh… Fuck, I can feel it. Come for me, baby.”

Your moans get higher, the coil tightening impossibly tight, but missing that little something to catapult you over the edge.

He can sense it, how your walls are starting to flutter around him, his own orgasm getting dangerously close. But no, you have to get yours first. His rhythm falters slightly, his breath shaky. “Gonna fill you up. S’that what you want? Wanna try again?”

Your orgasm crashes through you at his words – the idea of being full of your husband’s cum has always been a kink of yours, so when you had started to try to start a family, that was definitely a huge perk. You gush around him, moaning a broken version of his name as you fall apart.

The rhythmic contractions of your pussy trigger his own release, his cock twitching inside you as he buries himself deep and he coats your walls with his milky spend. “Fuck, baby…”

His body collapses over top of yours, though he braces himself a bit on his elbows so he doesn’t fully crush you. He nuzzles his face into the back of your neck and your shoulder, leaving gentle kisses on your overheated skin.

You sigh contentedly, still feeling him buried inside you, softening slowly. The minutes drag as you soak in the feeling.

“Mmm… you’re forgiven.” You say, reaching back to pat his thigh.

He laughs lowly, slowly lifting himself off of you as he pulls out. His hands stroke reverently over your back as you turn on your side to look at him.

“Still taking you to breakfast. And that store.” He reaches out and cups your neck, pushing some of your messy hair back as he strokes your flushed cheek with his thumb.

You smile at him lovingly, spent and full. “Well, my forgiveness is conditional to that, but still.” You chuckle and turn your head to kiss his palm.

When you look back at him, your breath catches. His eyes are soft, almost glistening in the delicate morning light spilling through the curtains. His hand leaves your neck to splay over your stomach, the golden band on his ring finger shining against his tan skin. “I can’t wait…”

“It’ll happen, Stevie.” You lace your fingers with his. “We just gotta keep doing… that.” You smirk.

He chuckles at your words and pulls you close, tucking your head under his chin. “Anytime, honey.”

************

Taglist! Decided to start one, even though I'm not sure how😅 If you want to be added or taken off, just comment!

@bearwithegg @lacywithdrawal

[drippingsteve]

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

Masterlist

OMG! My first request!! Thank you, anon!! I hope you enjoy, xoxo

Things are heating up with Steve. Fog starts to build on the windows of his BMW as he kisses down your neck in the back seat.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs into your neck, sucking a hickey into the skin there. 

His hands roam over your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. When his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, the heat between your legs grows. 

“Can I take this off?” He tugs on the fabric, planting a kiss below your ear. 

You nod, humming in affirmation, and he pulls it over your head slowly. 

You know your assets, and you can’t stop a smug smile from spreading across your lips as his eyes wander over your tits. “Like what you see?” 

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, fingers slipping under the strap of your bra before sliding across the front and landing on the little white bow in the center. 

“Did you wear this just for me?” He tugs lightly on the bow. 

Your face reddens. “Maybe.” 

His kisses creep down your neck and onto the swell of your breasts, reaching behind your back to finger the clasp. He looks up at you for confirmation, and you nod again, licking your lips. 

He pulls your bra off like he’s unwrapping a present, the concentrated look on his face turning to joy as your nipples harden in the cool car. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. You’ve been holding out on me.” He practically moans as he grabs a handful of your left tit. 

Before you know it, Steve’s face is buried in your chest. He licks a stripe up your sternum, pulling your nipple between his fingers hard enough to draw a gasp from your lips. 

You feel his grin against your chest. “You like that?” He asks, doing it again. 

You nod again, rendered speechless by how bold he’s being. “You can… um… use your mouth, too.” You mumble, face flushed. 

He licks his lips, staring directly into your eyes. “Like this?” he asks, leaning in and enveloping your nipple with his mouth. He flicks his tongue over it before sucking, his brows furrowed with desire. 

You tangle your fingers into his hair, drawing him closer with a moan. 

After a moment, he pulls away from you before grabbing your neck and pulling you in for a searing kiss. 

He looks you up and down, taking in the full view–your chest wet with his spit, your lips swollen from kissing him, the purple bruise blooming on your neck.

“Fuck, I need you,” he groans, undoing his belt to find some much-needed relief. 

You know your night is just getting started.

[drippingsteve]

Domestic Bliss

Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Harrington x  Female! Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), P in V sex, oral, (F receiving), hint of praise kink, kitchen sex, coming inside (pls wrap it) 

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This is my very first fic ever and I've been so so nervous to share it!! Please be nice, I hope you enjoy xoxo!!!!

The front door seemingly bursts open as Steve walks through with a loud huff. He marches in and drops his keys on the counter, sighing. 

“Rough day?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “You’re home so late.”

Steve’s brows furrow as he glances down at his watch. Seven o’clock. About three hours later than he normally comes home.

He rolls his neck, reaching up to loosen his deep blue tie. The sight sends a shiver down your spine. He looks good, even after a full day of corralling rowdy teenagers. 

“Very rough.” He responds after a deep breath. “The kids were on one today, with the dance coming up and all. Then I spent hours after school grading papers. I can’t believe some of these kids even made it so far.” He breathes out a laugh. “But it’s done now. I’m just happy to be home. With you.” His eyes meet yours.

You can’t repress the smile that creeps across your face as you move toward him. “I’ve missed you for hours,” you complain dramatically, throwing your arms around his neck. 

He looks down at you, leaning in for a kiss. “Oh yeah?” He murmurs just before your lips meet. 

“Mhm,” you respond into his mouth, your fingers threading through the hair at the back of his head. You know what you want, and you know he wants it too. Kissing him again, you tug on his hair ever so slightly.

“Careful, I’m easy,” Steve mutters into the crook of your neck as he lays a kiss there. 

Heat creeps up your body as his kisses make their way to your collarbone. Just when you think he’s about to pull away, he grabs your waist and spins you toward the kitchen island. 

“Steve,” a gasp escapes your lips as you feel the counter dig into your hips. 

He looks down at you, flashing you a grin. “Aren’t you glad we moved in together?” He asks, nudging his nose against yours. 

“Hmmm.” You feign consideration, holding back your smile. Unfortunately, Steve already knows the answer. Since you two moved in together a month ago, you’ve been in a state of domestic bliss. 

Steve’s lips are on yours again swiftly as one of his hands slides down your back, pulling you closer to him. “I made dinner,” you murmur against his lips. 

“After.” He assures you as his hands find a home beneath the hem of your shirt. You grab his tie, pulling him closer as he kisses you hungrily. 

You’re getting turned on now. You can feel his cock pressing into you, half hard in his slacks. His hands meander beneath your shirt, finding the lacy bottom of your bra. The denim of your jeans rubs you just right as you rock your hips into his firmly.

You press your hips to his again, moaning into his mouth.  

Your lips are swollen by the time you pull away, panting but just getting started. “Want you to fuck me,” you say, so worked up you can hardly take it. 

Steve can’t hold back the groan that slips past his lips. The effect he has on you still amazes him. “Tell me again.” He demands.

“I said,” you say determinedly, grabbing his belt. “I want you to fuck me. Are you gonna take me upstairs?” You push the jacket off his shoulders, pulling your lip between your teeth.

He shakes his head. “Want you right here, baby. Just like this. We haven’t done it here yet.” Over the last month, you’ve had sex nearly every day. It’s come to be part of your nightly routine, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He’s fucked you on the couch, in the shower, and on the bed, of course, but he’s right. You haven’t done it in the kitchen. Yet. 

Now, he lifts you onto the counter with ease, pulling your legs up to wrap around his hips. He grinds into you once, then again after he hears you moan softly in his ear. “Fuck, you drive me crazy,” he whispers. 

It’s his turn to moan when you palm him over his pants, feeling how ready he is for you. He yanks your shirt over your head, tossing it absentmindedly onto the floor. Your jeans come off next, and you get the first few buttons of his shirt undone before he’s pushing you to lie back on the counter. 

You know what’s coming next—you’re spoiled in that way. He kisses down your body, dragging his teeth across the flesh of your stomach as he grabs the sides of your underwear and begins to pull them down. 

“So pretty,” he mutters into the soft flesh of your thigh, looking up to catch your eyes. “Lose the bra.”

You do as he says, quickly reaching behind your back to release it before flinging it off. 

His kisses make their way inward slowly as his thumb parts your folds and finds your clit. Moaning softly, your fingers grip the edge of the countertop. “Don’t tease me. Please.” You roll your hips into his touch. 

“Love it when you beg, baby. How can I say no to you?” He flashes you a cheeky smile before grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer to him abruptly. The gasp that escapes your mouth turns quickly into a moan as he buries his face in your pussy. 

Steve knows what you like–what makes you emit pretty noises, what makes you beg for more, what makes your toes curl. He loves taking care of you, and he does so as often as you let him. 

He licks and sucks and kisses you, practically devouring you as you cry out his name and touch him anywhere you can reach—his hair, his neck, his shoulders. 

His hand finds yours, and he intertwines your fingers. The sweetness of it all is enough to make you come, and he works you through it until you’re shaking and crying out his name. 

He loves seeing you like this—all worked up for him after only a few minutes of playing with you. Your firm grip on his hand loosens, and you sit up weakly to undo the rest of his shirt buttons. 

“Feeling eager?” He teases, pulling you in by the neck for a kiss. It’s messy and hot and fuels the fire building inside of you. You need him desperately. 

You pull away. “Please, Steve,” you beg breathily, partially because you know how much he loves it. “Want you so bad.”

“Yeah? C'mere." He pulls you off the counter and turns you. He bends you over swiftly, pushing you down so your tits press against the cool marble. Luckily for him, you love being pushed around.

You bite your lip, unable to contain your excitement as you hear the telltale clink of his belt buckle coming undone. 

“So good for me, baby. You want it like this?” The praise goes right between your legs as his hand trails down your back, sending chills up your spine.

You nod enthusiastically. “Yes. Please.” You push your hips back against him.

Your hands splay out on the counter as he pulls his cock out and presses the head against your clit, rocking slightly. 

Pressure builds rapidly inside you as he teases you. “So wet,” he mutters. “This all for me?” 

You moan, nodding again. He takes his time with you, basking in the satisfaction that comes with your little noises. 

You push back against him with a whine, and he takes the hint. He pushes into you slowly, his eyes tracking the movement.  

There’s still a dull ache between your legs from the way he fucked you last night. And the night before. And the night before that. But you’re in heaven. You clench around him, unable to help it as he sets a steady pace. 

His hips smack against your ass, creating a lewd slapping noise, and you wonder if the neighbors can hear. You only have a moment to think about it, though, because his strong hand grips your shoulder and pulls you flush against him. 

The curls of hair on his chest brush your back as he hits a different spot inside you. “Fuck, Steve!” You cry. “Don’t stop.” 

“I’m not plannin’ on it, babe.” He replies into your neck as he litters kisses there, his thrusts unrelenting. 

You grab his hand and place it flat over your stomach, guiding it with yours to your breast. He gives it a squeeze. You can feel the smirk behind you. “Yeah? You like that, baby?” 

You moan in response. He knows how you like being talked to, how his words turn you on more than anything. 

“I know something else you like,” he whispers teasingly into your ear as his other hand roams down your torso and finds its place on your clit. You throw your head back against his shoulder now, overwhelmed by all the sensations.

He’s the best you’ve ever had, by far. 

Steve’s getting louder now, moaning obscenities as his fingers pick up their pace on your clit. You know he’s as close as you are. 

“Feels so good, Steve,” you whimper, your nails digging into his arm from how hard you grasp it. “Gonna come.” 

“Yeah? You wanna come with me?”

You moan and nod enthusiastically against his shoulder, unable to speak as your climax approaches quickly. 

“Wanna feel it.” He moans, and you can hear the pure want in his voice. “C’mon, baby.” 

You shudder as you come hard around him, crying out his name. He’s right behind you, and you feel his forehead on your shoulder as he comes with a groan. The two of you seemingly leave Earth for a moment, orbiting solely around each other. 

You come down slowly, and you and Steve breathe loudly in the otherwise quiet kitchen. His hand on your clit slows to a stop as he plants kiss after kiss on your neck and down your shoulder.

He stays inside you for so long that you think he might want to go again. Eventually, he slides out, and your combined arousal drips down the insides of your thighs like honey. 

“Had you speechless there for a minute.” He smirks.

You turn in his arms, your face flushed as you look up at him. “That was like, really really good.” 

He kisses you deeply, taking your breath away again. “Mmm. It always is.” He plants a soft kiss on your forehead. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up, and I’ll heat up dinner?” 

You think you can get used to living with Steve.