still can’t get over the fact we were supposed to believe HE wasn’t getting laid because let me tell you if i was in hawkins you would’ve had to pry me off of him
It wasn’t the first time Steve’s caught you staring at his arms. Since you’ve gotten together—even before that, you couldn’t help but appreciate the gains he worked so hard for. You hadn’t meant to be obvious, but Steve noticed everything about you, including the way your eyes fleet to the swollen muscles whenever you thought he wasn’t looking.
God, when he crossed his arms over his chest, making his bicep bulge, or casually raised his arms above his head, knowing exactly what he was doing while subtly flexing his upper arms, you were done for. Even just picking up a box with a quiet groan coming straight from his chest, made you drool at the sight of them puffing out slightly more than usual. Especially when he wore a tight wife beater, like right now, hugging his waist in all the right places and revealing a sliver of chest hair—but that’s what you weren’t concentrated on, no, you were laser focused on his bare biceps, littered with moles and practically begging for you to wrap your lips around them.
After five minutes passed without you blinking, Steve just couldn’t take it anymore. “See something you like, sweetheart?” He asked smugly. You instantly snapped your gaze back to his face, a deep flush overcoming your cheeks once you noticed he had already been watching you the entire time.
“I—” you stammered, mouth opening and closing uselessly. “I wasn’t staring.” Though you avoided his brown eyes burning into you.
Steve let out a laugh that said everything you were afraid of, he wasn’t dropping it. “Oh, is that right, hun?” He tilted his head in an overly sweet tone. “Then why have ya been looking at my arms like they’re your favorite snack?” He asked.
At that, you couldn’t help but sneak another glance, tongue wetting your lower lip at his comparison. Steve lowered his voice huskily. “I don’t mind, you know.” He flexed them without effort, making the veins pop at the surface. “After all, they’re all for you to look at.” He smirked, slowly inching closer until you didn’t know where to look.
“They’re, uh…nice, is all.” You struggled to find the right words, complimenting your boyfriend shouldn’t be this difficult, but when he was looking at you ravenously, your mind clouded beyond comprehension.
Steve scoffed harshly, narrowing his eyes in offense. “Only nice?” He repeated. “Baby, I don’t workout five times a week for you to be calling them ‘nice.’ Besides, I think your body’s telling me a different story, your mouths almost salivating, holy shit.”
You didn’t know to say, only looking up at him with wide eyes, trying not to succumb to your weakness. “Go on then,” Steve muttered lowly. “Put your pretty mouth right where you want ‘em, do what that brain of yours has been imagining this whole time.”
You swallowed thickly, and when Steve didn’t show an ounce of hesitation, you slowly lowered your mouth, tongue jutting out to give his biceps a soft kitten lick, before your teeth were biting down forcibly. He let out a shaky exhale as you closed your eyes, simply enjoying the moment and keeping your teeth sunken in for a few more seconds.
Steve felt all blood rush south, he didn’t expect it to turn him on that much, but with the way your brows pinched together while you left open mouthed kisses on the span of empty skin, he was becoming as horny as you. “Fuck,” he grunted, placing a hand around your jaw to lift your face back up.
You let out a tiny whine at the loss, already missing his huge bicep in your mouth. Steve patted the side of your cheek, giving you some comfort. “If I knew how desperate you were, I woulda let you bite me a long time ago.” He said. “But don’t worry, I’m gonna fix that now—make you really feel just how big my arms are.”
His words went directly to your pussy, making you clench around nothing from excitement. You were confused when Steve suddenly spun you around where you were standing, then flipped your skirt up and palmed your cunt with a heavy hand.
“This wet just from my biceps, sweet girl?” He gave you a light squeeze, making you moan in response. “But you know what’s even bigger? My cock.”
You hadn’t heard him shed his belt or boxers, mind still in a daze from all that kissing. And before you had time to prepare yourself, Steve was already plunging his length into you until the hilt. You gasped, knees almost buckling underneath you from the sheer force. “Oh—fuck, Steve!” You cried out, feeling him immediately set a rough pace.
Steve smirked to himself, keeping you upright by lifting his left hand off of your waist, and burrowing your neck into the crook of his elbow, wrapping around tightly. Your mouth instinctively dropped opened, bringing his plush skin back between your teeth and suffocating your mewls.
“You like that baby, hm?” Steve growled into your ear, watching as your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. “Knew you would. See how—ah—how perfect you fit around me?” He asked. “Such a small thing, but you’ve never looked better than with my arm ‘round your throat.”
You disconnected your lip from his bicep with a pop, a string of saliva between your mouth and the muscle. “S’good, Stevie,” Though the words sounded muffled from behind the muscle. “D-don’t—eugh—don’t stop!” You begged.
“Can’t stop!” Steve groaned, having never sounded so pleasured before, using his other hand to lift your leg off the ground, fucking your pussy in an even deeper angle.
The change in position made you lean forward into his headlock even more, and with the way his cock kept hitting your most sensitive spot combined with having your mouth stuffed full of him, only dragged you closer to the edge. You tried grinding your hips back frantically against his, lost in the pleasure. “C-close—mmf!”
Steve already knew you were close before you warned him, your sopping pussy enough evidence as is. Though, he couldn’t resist flexing his bicep right against your throat, slightly cutting off your air supply and making him full of your senses.
You screamed inaudibly, the movement was the final thing to make you give into your release, cumming all over his cock as you sagged like a ragdoll against him, head falling to rest on his bicep as he fucked you through your high.
You whimpered quietly, his thrusts beginning to falter and grow erratic as Steve panted heavily behind you, mind still replaying how tightly your pussy clenched around him when he chocked you. “Please—Steve—ugh,” the overstimulation was a cruel sensation, but you wanted nothing more than for him to fill you up.
Steve squeezed his eyes shut, using his last bit of strength to choke you once more as he came inside you, shooting ropes of his bodily fluid deep enough to stuff you for days. He only released his hold once he realized you were slightly struggling to breathe, face turning plum not caused by his fucking.
“Oh—sorry, sweetheart.” He casually apologized, twisting to press a kiss to your cheek.
You leaned against him, catching your breath in deep gasps of air. “Steve—I can’t—fuck—that was—”
He chuckled at your struggle to speak, looking at his bicep in amusement as the previous blank canvas was now painted in marks of all shades, and teeth marks scattered throughout.
“Well, looks like someone certainly took a liking to my arms.” He smirked. “Never knew you were the choking type, baby. We gotta do that again sometime soon.”
You couldn’t believe Steve was talking so normally, like he hadn’t completely taken your ability to walk and made you lightheaded all at once.
“How do you feel about a shower?” He asked, not without a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Maybe I’ll let you soap ‘em up for me.” He winked. You followed without another thought.
ex-husband!steve harrington x fem!reader
(18+; MDNI; 3.9k words)
It's been two years since you divorced your ex-husband.
You get called back to Hawkins for his father's funeral.
cw: second chance romance; angst; character death; hurt/comfort; making out at an inappropriate time; hopeful ending!!!
-> thank you to @keeryspullman for letting me torture u in dms with this! follow up at some point. maybe. hehe <3
masterlist || divider by @/strangergraphics || ao3 link
You’d never expected to find yourself back in Hawkins.
Not in the two years since your divorce, not since you saw your ex-husband for the last time as the two of you left the courthouse, refusing to make eye contact or even attempt an amicable goodbye.
(To be fair, what does a person say to their newly minted ex-husband after fighting with him for years to stop working so much? To let you in? After you gave up and decided enough was enough? What do you say to a man who, even as you signed the finalized paperwork, you still weren’t sure you could live without?)
(You hadn’t managed to figure that one out in time.)
But then you got the call from Robin in the middle of the night, panicked and crying and breathless as she says, “Steve’s dad died a couple of days ago, and I know you guys haven’t talked in forever, but he’s really falling apart and I don’t know what to do and he won’t talk to me and Mr. Harrington’s funeral is today and—”
That’s all you needed to let her know that you would make the hour and a half drive up from Indy, kicking out your date that slept over the night prior and packing a bag in a massive rush, only remembering at the last minute that you’re about to attend a funeral, that you need to be dressed for a funeral, and—
And you make it back to Hawkins by ten, a black dress on and pearl earrings that Steve once gifted you hanging from your ears.
The town is the same as you left it. Still small, still aging, still quiet. Everything that you thought you hadn’t wanted in life, and everything that you found yourself yearning for once you got your apartment above a restaurant on Mass. Ave and a shiny new job at a bank downtown.
For a moment, you almost let your muscle memory take over, to guide you towards the northeast end of town to the white, two-story cottage with a fenced in backyard and hydrangea bushes spilling out everywhere in the summer. The kind of house, the realtor had said, that was perfect for raising a family, with its tall ceilings and big windows and creaky stairs, ready to withstand everything from the small pitter-patter of feet across wood floors to the slamming of doors from teenage fueled angst.
The house that you know Steve still lives in, even two years later.
But you don’t let old instinct take over. There’s enough heartbreak being back in Hawkins as it is.
The funeral home sits in the center of town, the one that Will Byers was once memorialized in before he was found alive just days later, and sits opposite of the place the MAC-Z used to sit.
(The place where Steve had been released from military custody to you, and the place where he had dropped to one knee and asked you to marry him just minutes later.)
(The place that you had said yes through your confusion and tears, because he disappeared for weeks without a word, and you’d only had a thirty minute warning from the military to come collect him.)
(Steve never told you why he had been held in custody.)
(You never asked.)
You park down the street and make your way through the well-worn sidewalks, carving out the same path that you used to take with Steve in that summer after the two of you graduated high school, hand in hand whenever he had a free moment from Scoops.
(A summer that, as you recall, had been cut short by a mall fire and grief and the three weeks you spent by his side in the hospital, worrying and fretting as you slowly watched the swelling around his eye go down. A summer where too many people died, Steve had to be kept under observation in case of a brain bleed, and in the aftermath, he became more cagey than ever.)
A sea of mourning black surrounds the pristine white funeral home as you make your way closer, the crowd surging towards the ornate double doors, and it’s only then that you spot him.
Steve.
Steve Harrington in all of his glory. His hair is a little shorter than you remember it, a little less styled, and there’s new laugh lines crinkled along his eyes. But despite the differences in the man you once knew and the man in front of you now, he’s still the same Steve he’s always been with a soft look on his face and a steadiness to his broad shoulders despite the occasion.
And like a moth to a flame, he meets your gaze through the mass of people. His brown eyes widening with recognition as his face does something funny, like he’s not sure whether to laugh or cry or both, and you can’t help but offer him a small smile.
He smiles back.
The moment is cut short when someone calls his name, and with one last, lingering look in your direction, he disappears inside.
You stand there for a moment, heart pounding, before slipping into the building after him.
You find a seat in the very back of the hall, away from the congregation of people you once knew, the people you once considered family. There will be time to greet your former mother-in-law later, when she doesn’t have Robin on one side and Steve on the other, and there’s no part of you that has any desire to run into Dustin Henderson who’s lingering near the front.
(Not after the last time you talked to him, two months after you filed and he went from begging you to not go through with it to insulting you when you told him that you unequivocally were not going to stop the proceedings.)
(Two weeks later, Steve had found out what happened and forced Dustin to apologize, but you never quite stopped nursing that wound.)
It’s a beautiful service, really. Not that you’d expect anything less from the Harringtons. Friends of Danny’s give their eulogies, colleagues talk about his business prowess, until finally, Laura and Steve step up to the dias side by side.
You can tell, even from a distance, that Laura isn’t quite holding it together the way you know she wants to. The way she needs to, really, because Laura Harrington has always prided herself in being put together and in charge, a matriarch in a family full of nothing but men for generations. You can tell that Steve notices, too, by the way he squeezes her arm and pulls a paper from his pocket, spreading it along the wooden surface of the podium.
He searches the crowd for a moment, and his eyes settle on you in your seat in the very last row. You’re not sure what he’s looking for, but whatever he derives from seeing you, it has his shoulders relaxing. And quietly, hesitantly, he glances down at the paper and begins his speech.
His voice is strong and steady as he reads, the same soothing timbre to it that he’d once used to calm you down after nightmares and hard days at work. A reassuring quality to his tone, one that could make anyone relax, as he talks about his earliest memories with his father — little league games, vacations to the Harrington beach house, morning spent snuggled between his parents — to his early twenties and learning how to navigate adulthood with his father’s guidance.
(He skips past the teenage years, the ones where you first entered Steve’s life. The arguments with his father about his future, the worries about his past, the stress that he might never amount to something. The period of time where resentment had swelled up so much between the two that it bubbled over constantly.)
He talks about the last conversation he had with his father, only a week prior, where the two of them had sat in the backyard of Steve’s house. And Danny, never a man with much to say, had clapped Steve on the shoulder and said, I’m proud of you, Steve. Truly.
You don’t miss the way Steve surreptitiously wipes his face.
“Anyone who met him would tell you that he was a complicated man,” Steve says. “But at the end of the day, no matter what other role he filled, he was my father. All I can say to that is thank you, Dad, for loving me even when I didn’t think you were, and—” He pauses, clearing his throat. “I’ll miss you, and I hope you’re resting easy now, wherever you are.”
The funeral ends and everyone is ushered to the graveyard, where Steve serves as one of the pallbearers and stands strong as Laura finally crumples into his side.
You hang further back once again, away from the prying eyes of anyone who would ask too many questions, and you lose sight of him when the crowd migrates to the reception in a local church.
There’s part of you that wants to seek him out, to offer him your condolences and ask if there’s anything you can do, but—
Your eyes catch on Laura standing in the corner by herself, gazing at a family portrait of her and Danny and Steve from Steve’s childhood, and you cross the room without thinking, falling into place next to her with a quiet, “He was a good man.”
Laura blinks at you, though she doesn’t look surprised to see you there. Happy, maybe, but not surprised.
“Danny loved you, you know,” she says, apropos of an actual greeting, like this isn’t the first conversation you’ve had with her since you filed for divorce. “Never stopped talking about how get togethers weren’t the same without you beating him at cards.”
“I’m sure he’s having a big laugh that this is what got me back in Hawkins,” you say. Her lips twitch up. “He could’ve just asked, honestly. Spared us all the dramatics. I would’ve come for less.”
The corners of her eyes crinkle together the same way Steve’s does, and she draws you into a warm hug with shaking hands, the smell of her floral perfume overwhelming your senses.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispers.
You feel your throat grow tight. “I’ve missed you, too.”
You stay like that for a few moments, letting her rock you back and forth and draw whatever comfort it is that she needs from your bones, until a throat clears and you look up to see the familiar face of Robin Buckley. You pull away from Laura and offer Robin a small smile, one that she easily returns, and you know that the two of you will catch up later when she squeezes your arm.
“Mrs. Harrington, let’s go get some food,” Robin says.
Laura rolls her eyes, but lets Robin loop their arms together. “Steve’s had her on ‘Mom watch,’” she tells you conspiratorially.
“Well, there’s worse company to be had,” you say. “Robin always has a few jokes on hand, at least.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Robin says, and you let yourself bask in the raspy warmth of her voice for a few moments before stepping out of their way. And just as she’s slipping past you, she stops to whisper in your ear, “He’s in a private room down the hall.”
You stare at her, surprised, but she only leads Laura across the room without further acknowledgement.
You shouldn’t go. Honestly, really, it’s a bad idea as it is — meeting him surrounded by people was one thing, but a private audience with your ex-husband is—
(Your feet are moving across the floor before you can even finish the thought.)
The hallway is quiet and empty, the conversation from the reception hall only a quiet buzz compared to the pounding in your ears as you slowly and methodically check each room you come across until finally, at the end of the hall, you spot one with the door cracked open.
You press your palm flat against the wood, the hinges creaking in protest as you ease it open just a bit wider, and find Steve sitting on a couch, leaning over his knees with his face pressed into his hands.
He doesn’t move.
The door clicks shut behind you.
You settle on the couch next to him, silent and waiting for something — anything — to tell you what to do. Any cue or sign from Steve or God or anyone who will listen, because your hands are shaking and your throat is dry and Steve—
Steve. Strong, brave, kind Steve, who once held you as a doctor stitched up an ugly gash in your leg, is hiding his face as his shoulders tremble, trying to pretend like his tears aren’t catching in his throat.
“I want to be left alone, Dustin,” he mutters. “Just five minutes. Please.”
You bite down on your lip and, quietly, say, “I’m not Dustin, but I can give you space.”
He jerks up, tears still coursing down his face, and stares at you with wide-eyes, his voice little more than a whisper when he says, “Oh.”
You smile. “Hey.”
“You’re here,” he murmurs, full of wonder, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re real or simply a mirage.
“Yeah,” you say, just as quiet. “I’m here.”
It starts with his brows pressing together, then his jaw clenching. He presses his eyes shut, his nose flares, and you pull him into your arms before the first hiccuping sob has a chance to billow out.
He doesn’t fight you, only wraps himself more firmly around your waist as he buries his face into your chest, his back heaving from unrestrained grief and everything left unsaid between the two of you. He cries and cries and cries, letting everything out until he’s stripped down to his rawest form, the image of a man held strong for far too long finally letting himself fall apart entirely.
You let him.
You smooth your hand down his back and card your fingers through his hair, comforting him in the way you only know how.
(The only way you learned how, back in those first few, fraught hours after the mall fire back in ’85. Back when you’d sat in the waiting room, leg bouncing, waiting for anyone to tell you that he was okay. Waiting for his parents to catch a flight back from their beach house in North Carolina, waiting for a nurse or a doctor to come out, waiting for a sign that your boyfriend was going to make it.)
(And when you’d finally been allowed into his hospital room, he’d grinned, all boyish charm and bloodied teeth, like it was no big deal that he’d been hurt.)
(It was the first time you’d seen him so injured.)
(It was nowhere near the last.)
“It’ll be okay,” you whisper. “I’ve got you, Steve. I got you.”
The front of your dress is completely soaked through, but you find that you don’t quite care. Not when he lets out a heart shattering, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”
Your entire body freezes.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
“Steve?” You press at his shoulders, suddenly desperate to see his face. “Steve, what are you talking about?”
He pulls back, and for a moment, he’s the eighteen year old boy who smiled at you with a swollen eye and a split lip, tutting affectionately when you sobbed into his shoulder. He’s the boy who pulled you into his strong arms, uncaring of the IV line he was surely at risk of tugging out, and said, I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, honey, I know that I scared you—
“For everything,” he gasps out. “For keeping things from you, and — fuck, crying on you — and I know you’ve moved on, but I just — god, I’m so sorry for everything, for the divorce and the secrets and—”
(And your heart breaks all over again, because can anyone ever truly move on from Steve Harrington?)
“Steve,” you murmur, brushing a thumb down his cheek. He tilts his head just a little bit more into your palm. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” he insists. “I mean, fuck, I kept so much from you, and everyone told me not to and I drove you away and—”
“Steve.”
He falls silent.
“I forgave you a long time ago,” you say. “You don’t need to worry about me, okay?”
(It’s the same thing that he said to you before disappearing off the face of the earth for weeks. The same words that he whispered as he held you close in the doorway of your apartment, his arms trembling as he murmured all of his love and affections into your ears, like he only had one more chance to tell you. Like he wasn’t sure he’d ever see you again.)
(It’s what he said before disappearing for twenty-five days, nine hours, and three minutes, leaving you alone as the earth heaved and shook and groaned, when it felt like the entire planet was once again at risk of falling apart, and you thought that you might die without ever getting to see his face once again.)
(And it’s what he said just minutes after the military released him back to you, seconds before he dropped to his knees and desperately said, I can’t live without you, will you please, please marry me? I’ll do anything to make you happy—)
“Your father just died,” you gently say. “You’re allowed to worry about yourself for once.”
He looks like he wants to argue, like he wants to push back, but you watch the fight leave his body. He gives you a wobbly smile, you give him one back, and for a moment, you can let yourself pretend that you hadn’t thrown eight years down the drain in the matter of a single night.
(That last argument still haunts your dreams. The way your voice cracked as you begged for him to let you in, to let you understand. How his fists shook when he said, Can’t you see that I’m doing this for you? The calm resolve you felt when you realized with an icy clarity that the two of you were too stuck in your ways to change.)
(The moment, nearly a year later, when you realized that you weren’t quite sure if you wanted to change into a new person without him.)
(Looking at him now, you think he might feel the same.)
You let out a sigh and draw him closer, resting your forehead against his the way that you always did, letting the feel of stubble rough up your palm.
His breath catches.
You peek at him through your lashes to find him searching your face with barely disguised desire.
You want to laugh. Truly, you do, because if there was ever a wrong time and place to feel desire, it would be your ex-father-in-law’s funeral, but you can’t help the timeworn flame deep inside of you from flickering to life once more, a fire that’s only ever been maintained by Steve’s careful hands.
“Honey,” he says hoarsely.
You swallow, tilting your chin just a bit closer.
That’s all the encouragement that he needs.
His fingers grip your waist, dragging you across the cushions and into his lap, and it’s need that has you tangling your hands with his hair. Need to be closer, need to be with him, need to be one with him.
(Need to remember what it’s like to fall asleep with his arms wrapped around your skin, whispered promises of nothing ever hurting you, swaddling you as you drifted off.)
“Tell me to stop,” he begs, his hot breath ghosting your skin. “Tell me to stop right now, and I will. I swear, I will.”
“Don’t stop,” you say, and he surges forward, capturing your lips with his own.
It feels like coming home, in a way. Kissing him, feeling him under you. Like stepping into a soft memory, carried along by hands that have long since learned the tune of you, held by a man who had dedicated so much of his life in pursuit of the knowledge of who you were, inside and out.
Like your body had been held in stasis for two entire years, frozen in time, only able to come back to life with the key he held in his heart.
You giggle into the kiss, suddenly elated, as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, teasing for more.
And you give it. God, you give him more. You’d give him the world, if you could, and suddenly you’re crying, your heart twisting, because you wasted so much time, because you were so, so stupid, because—
“I’m sorry,” you gasp into his mouth. “I should’ve listened to you, I should’ve trusted—”
“Not your fault, honey,” he assures, pressing a trail of kisses down the column of your throat. “I kept so much from you — there’s so much I need to tell you, and—”
And—
There’s a knock at the door.
“Steve?” Robin’s voice, hesitant and unsure, calls through the wood. “Are you in there?”
He drops his head against your shoulder and lets out a world weary sigh.
The doorknob turns, and you don’t even have time to gather yourself or launch yourself across the couch, to pretend like Steve doesn’t still have his body wrapped around yours, before Robin’s peaking inside.
“Oh,” she says dumbly, eyes wide as she takes the two of you in.
Your face burns with embarrassment.
“Uh, Steve,” Robin begins, clearing her throat uncomfortably. “Your mom is asking for you. What… do you want me to tell her?”
“I’ll be there in a second,” he says. “Just give me a minute, Rob.”
Robin nods, and with a lingering look towards you, shuts the door behind her.
The two of you stay frozen like that, your legs still wrapped around his hips, his forearms still pressed into the small of your back, until—
A shocked laugh escapes him.
“Fuck,” he says, releasing his hold on you to scrub at his face. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I have to go check on my mom, but later — can we talk? Later? Are you staying in Hawkins, or were you planning on going back to…?”
“I packed a bag, but I wasn’t sure what my plans were,” you say. “I can stay, though. We can talk. I think—”
I think we need to talk.
“Come over,” he says, an urgent strain to his voice. “Tonight. Please.”
“Of course,” you say, because after everything, there’s no way you can deny his request. “Of course I will, but you should—”
“Yeah, I know,” he says, already beginning to shuffle you from his lap, keeping you steady as he settles you onto the cushions once more. “I know, just — you mean it? You’ll—?”
“I’ll be there,” you say. “I promise.”
He smiles, soft and true, and presses one more chaste kiss to your lips, as though he’s leaving the promise of something more for you to chase later.
And as you watch him leave, your heart pounding against your ribs, you let hope blossom inside of you once more.
࿓ Summary: When your car keys go mysteriously missing, you're left desperate for a ride home. And lucky you, Steve Harrington is there to rescue you. What starts as one late night drive home, turns into something way more meaningful.
࿓ CW: Fluff, Steve being a sweetie, mutual pining, silly excuses, no use of y/n, Steve gets attached easily, Dustin and Robin plotting and scheming
࿓ A/N: What I would give to be driven home by Steve Harrington
࿓ WC: 2.4k
࿓ Song Inspo: ↻ ◁ | Drive by The Cars | ▷ ↺
"What the hell??" You muttered to yourself, frantically searching through your bag. "This is ridiculous, I just had them..." You groaned and checked your pockets for the second time.
Robin casually leaned over the counter, pushing aside a stack of movies. "Missing something there?"
"I can't find my keys, which makes no sense because I just got here 20 minutes ago. I swear I put them in my bag, and now they're just gone."
Robin let out a small hum, "Well, you made it here with them, obviously. So let's just look for them."
You nodded, letting out a small sigh as your eyes trailed over the floors of Family Video. Dustin appeared beside you out of thin air, hovering over you as you looked underneath the horror display.
"What are you doing?" He asked.
"Jesus-" You jumped slightly, frowning as you stared at the teen. "What the hell does it look like I'm doing? I'm looking for something."
Dustin shrugged, "I don't know you like that, for all I know you could be rigging some sort of evil device."
Your eyes narrowed, "And why would I do that?"
He made a strange noise, "I dunno, feminine rage or something like that?"
Your eye twitched, "Don't you have dice to roll and some made up characters to cry over?"
"It's not just dice rolling. It's critical thinking and collaboration that allows you to experience different lives and stories. And just so you know, we don't play on Tuesdays."
You rolled your eyes, continuing your search as Dustin continued explaining the magic that was Dungeons and Dragons. You finally looked back up at him, "Dustin, if you don't shut up in the next ten seconds, you're going to see some real feminine rage."
He swallowed hard, staring at you for a moment before scurrying off to the break room again.
Robin laughed from the comedy aisle, "I don't think I've seen you that frustrated with someone before."
"He was pushing my buttons." You mumbled, standing up with a defeated sigh. "They're not here." You whined.
"They have to be, we'll find them." Robin's head popped up.
"Find what?" Steve stood in the door frame that led to the back, hand resting on his hip.
"My keys. They're gone." You frowned over at him.
Steve pushed off the door, going over to the counter. "I'm sure we'll find them. What kind of key is it?"
"All of them! My car and house key are on the same keychain. I'm totally screwed without them. My parents are out of town this weekend so if I can't find the house key's I'm fucked. Not that it will matter if I have no way to get home." You sulked over to the counter, dropping your head onto it.
Steve let out a small laugh, "Hey, it's gonna be okay either way. If we can't find your car key I can take you home, and didn't you say your folks keep a spare key under that rock with your hand print on it?"
You blinked, looking up at him, "I- yeah.. I did say that. Like months ago, how did you remember that?"
Steve shrugged, the tips of his ears turning red. "Dunno, maybe I was preparing for this day to come."
You smiled, suddenly not feeling so frustrated about the missing items.
Robin glanced over at Dustin who had peeked out from the breakroom. The two of them smiled triumphantly and nodded at each other.
Despite looking through the whole store, your keys were in fact MIA. It was like they had disappeared into thin air, or rather disappeared into Dustin's backpack.
You waited patiently for Steve's shift to end, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your chest as you thought about him driving you home. By the time Steve was cleared to leave, the sun had started setting, casting a beautiful glow on Steve's signature beamer.
He opened the door for you, bowing slightly as you slid in, "M'lady."
You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the smile pulling at your lips. "Get in the car, ya weirdo."
He shut the door before jogging over to the drivers side and slipping in. The drive was nice, the streets of Hawkins passing by as you and Steve slipped into conversation about whatever came to mind. You felt at ease next to Steve. It seemed like the car had adjusted to the perfect temperature, a warm fuzzy feeling settling in your chest. Or maybe that was because of the way Steve kept glancing over at you each time you laughed at some silly joke.
The ride came to an end way faster than either of you were willing to admit. And before you knew it, he had pulled into the driveway of your house. You reached for the handle, moving to open it before he locked the doors. "Ahhh! What are you doing?!" He looked at you like you were crazy.
You stared at him like he had three heads, "I'm opening the door, Steve."
"Absolutely not." He quickly got out of the car, rushing back around and pulling the door open for you again, repeating his bow from before. "Once again... M'lady."
You smiled and stepped out with a bright laugh, "You're ridiculous."
He shut the door and started walking with you to your door. "No, I'm chivalrous."
As you reached the porch, Steve squatted down and found the key under the rock. "Boom." He held it out towards you.
You took it, fingers gently brushing his. "Thank you, Steve."
"It's no big deal." He shrugged, hands shoved in his pockets.
"No it is, without you I would still be totally freaking out." You smiled sheepishly.
"Well... I'm glad I could help." He smiled.
You carefully unlocked the door, turning slightly and smiling at him, "Night, Steve. Get home safe."
He nodded, "You too- shit- I mean I will. Night." He quickly turned and made his way back to his car.
You laughed and shut the door. Not even 30 seconds later there was a knock at the door. You opened it back up, with a raised eyebrow. Steve stood awkwardly on the porch. "I just realized you've got no way to get around. Well- I knew that- but it just clicked that you might need to go somewhere tomorrow and you don't have your car. So I just wanted to let you know if you need anything or need to go somewhere I don't mind driving you." He took a deep breath.
You smiled shyly. "That's really sweet, Steve. But I'm sure you've got a lot of things to do. I mean you've got work, and you're probably hanging out with people, I'd hate to mess up plans or be in the way."
He shook his head, "You won't! I mean I'm offering. I really don't have any issue with it, and I'd hate for you to be stuck asking around all week. So until you find your keys, I'm your guy- that sounds- I'm your ride."
You bit back a laugh, "Alright, you're my guy, Steve."
Steve smiled proudly, "Yeah, good, good. So just give me a call, I mean it!" He started walking backwards off the porch, tripping slightly over a plant.
You laughed, watching him retreat to his car with a lopsided grin. You yelled out before you could stop yourself, "Hey Steve!?"
He straightened up, leaning against his car. "Yeah!?"
"I just realized! I need to get groceries tomorrow! My fridge is fully empty!"
He nodded, "Alright! I'll pick you up tomorrow at noon, that sound okay!?"
You smiled and nodded, "Yeah! I'll see you tomorrow, don't trip over any more plants on your way home!"
You could see the red tint in his cheeks as he ducked back into his car and peeled out of your driveway.
As promised, Steve was at your house at 12 on the dot the next day. He knocked on the door, his easy smile and messy curls greeting you. You smiled back, "Make it home safe?"
"I'm standing here, aren't I?"
"Hmm, could be. Or maybe I'm dreaming."
"Oh so you dream about me?" He quirked a brow.
"You wish, Harrington." You slipped past him, bumping him out of the way with your hip and locking the door. He smiled as you trailed off to the car, watching you carefully. "You gonna keep staring or get in the car?"
He straightened up, bouncing over to the car. As your finger brushed the handle he let out a startling noise. "Nah-uh! Don't you touch that handle."
You let out a long sigh. "What is it with you and car doors?!"
He opened it for you, "Simply doing my gentlemanly duty."
"Don't say duty."
"Duty." He closed the door swiftly before you could reply.
The week continued like that. Steve had all practically enforced his role as your driver, not that you were complaining. In fact you were doing the opposite of complaining, you couldn't stop talking about how sweet Steve was being. He truly was outdoing himself. He took you to the store, to the laundromat, to the library, anywhere you wanted to go. Steve was mapping out the longest way to get there. And you noticed. You noticed how he would occasionally "miss" a turn, or when he purposely took a longer route.
It would have gotten on your nerves if it was anyone else. But it wasn't just anyone, it was Steve. And you were more than happy to spend a little extra time in his car if it meant more inside jokes and stolen looks.
But the week was nearing to the end, and soon your parents would be home and you would have another available more viable ride.
You sat seated in the beamer, the leather a familiar feeling against your skin. The car was parked in your driveway, had been for almost 30 minutes now while you and Steve gabbed about Robin and Vickie.
"I keep telling her she needs to go for it. It's obvious Vickie likes girls, but she won't listen." He threw his head back against the head rest.
You nodded, "I've told her the same. She's gonna regret it if she never says anything and is always left wondering 'what could have been.' You have to go for that, I feel like life's too short to hide feelings."
Steve sat up more, "So, if there was someone you liked... you would've asked them out by now?" He eyed you carefully.
Your cheeks flushed, "Well... that's a little more complicated. Robin doesn't really know Vickie that well and I-" You quickly cut yourself off.
Steve blinked, "You know the guy well?"
You swallowed hard, pivoting subjects. "So, my parents get back in town tomorrow. So you'll be free of driving me to the store everyday because I always seem to forget something." You laughed lightly.
Steve nodded slowly, staring at the singular bag of chips in the grocery bag. You thought you were slick, saying you forgot to buy your favorite chips, but Steve vividly remembered you getting them on your first trip. "Yeah... But, your parents both work right? So you'll still probably need some rides around town while they're at work."
"Yeah, I will. But I highly doubt my dad is going to just let me do that when I have a perfectly good car of my own. He'll probably go up to the dealership and get another key or something." You frowned.
"Well... maybe your mom can take the car?"
"If I didn't know any better, Harrington, I would say that you're offering to be my personal chauffeur." You teased.
"Something like that..." He scratched his neck. "Can I be honest with you?"
You nodded. "Yeah of course."
He sighed and reached into his back pocket, pulling out your keys with a nervous grin. You blinked at him, reaching over and taking them gently. "I haven't had them the whole time! Dustin gave them to me today. He said he and Robin planned the whole thing. He's had them the whole time..."
"Those little shits." You laughed, turning over the keys in your hands.
"You're not mad?"
"Oh, I'm pissed! Not at you, but those two! Especially Robin!" You shook your head. "Why the hell would they do that?"
"Because, they were trying to help me out." He looked down.
"With what?" Your brows furrowed.
"Cause, I told them I have a.. slight- not slight- big thing for you. And I guess they were just trying to help me get some alone time with you. I'm sorry- if I had known they were going to do all this I would have sto-"
"You've got a thing for me?" You smiled brightly.
He flushed, nodded slowly. "Yeah, big time."
"Y'know when you asked me if I would have asked someone out by now and I said it was different because I know the guy.. I was talking about you. You're my guy, Steve."
He sat up more eyes shining, "Wait seriously!?"
You nodded, "Mhm. And I've really really enjoyed being your passenger princess this week."
"Me too. Y'know it doesn't have to stop. I meant it when I said your mom can take your car and maybe instead of making up excuses to go to the store, we can go on dates?" He watched you nervously.
A big smile broke across your face as you nodded quickly, "Yes! Yeah! I would love that. It was getting pretty obvious that you were taking the wrong turns and longer routes."
"Guilty. But now I don't need an excuse. Now we can just go on rides if you want."
You leaned over the center console, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "And you can stop staring at my thigh and just put your hand there."
Steve pulled you into another quick kiss. "I'm feeling like a late night drive sounds nice right about now."
"I completely agree."
You settled into the seat as he switched on the radio, his hand finding your thigh as the car pulled out of the driveway.
You've been washing Steve Harrington's car all summer long but one hot July afternoon, you finally decide to tease him back.
pairing: steve harrington x reader
words: 3.6k
contains: (18+ smut!! minors dni) porn with very little plot, perv!steve, needy!steve, hint of sub!steve, steve fantasying about reader, nipple play, light temperature play, teasing, lots and lots of teasing, inappropriate use of a hose, mutual masturbation, semi-public masturbation, praise kink, steve likes being called a good boy, horse cock harrington, female reader, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns for reader.
author's note: back here again with another instalment of 'this was meant to be a blurb but i wrote too much'. hope you guys enjoy this shameless summery smut! ❤️🔥
to be added to my 18+ taglist | masterlist | requests page
Steve Harrington had lost count of how many times that he had been to Suds & Shine car wash over the past two months. In his defence, he liked to take good car of his car and maybe—just maybe—he liked to look at the woman who washed it for him.
He swears it had started as a completely innocent thing. Just a guy needing to wash his car after stupidly letting Max Mayfield encourage him to do doughnuts in the dirt. But when he had pulled up and saw it was you—the once quiet, slightly awkward girl who used to sit behind him in math class, apparently picking up extra shifts at your dad's car wash for the summer—he no longer really cared about his car. Not when he could see the baby pink of your bikini through your soaked shirt.
His car had a habit of getting pretty dirty very quickly after that.
It was a roasting hot July afternoon when Steve Harrington's all too familiar maroon beamer pulled into the lot.
You had been leaning against some of the old tyres piled up outside of your dad's office, reading Hollywood Wives while you remained in the shade. You were sure that it was shaping up to be the hottest day of the year and your dad had left you to man the wash by yourself.
Thankfully, it had been a relatively quiet day and now, you wouldn't have your dad watching your every move while you interacted with Steve. The thought of him alone with him made your body tingle.
"Hey, stranger," you greet him with a warm smile as he rolls his window down—that easy smile on his handsome face making your heart thump in your chest. "Fancy seein' you here again. Only been a few days, that has got to be a new record."
Steve laughs, hoping that you don't see the way the tips of his ears have turned red. He was very aware that he had been at the wash only a few days prior but it was hot and he wanted an excuse to see you, see your body dripping with suds and water. Even the thought of seeing the pebbled peaks of your nipples through your white vest top was enough to make his cock stir beneath his shorts.
"Yeah um, fuckin' bird took a shit on my bonnet so figured I should get it cleaned again," Steve explains, grinning at you like he definitely had not been rehearsing that excuse on the drive over as he opens his door and climbs out of his car.
Your mouth feels a little dry when you see the red shorts he was wearing, the ones that stretched deliciously over his thighs. Then there was the white tank top he wore, one that gave you a perfect peak at the dark hair that adorned his chest, one that showed those incredible biceps of his and displayed his skin tanned from the sun, peppered with freckles and moles that you wanted to explore with your mouth.
You're quick to pull yourself back to the present, your eyes flickering down to the small splatter of white and dark brown on the bonnet that you can't help but smile at. You could see right through this guy.
"Of course. Can't have that, can we?" you say with a wry smile before turning around so that you could bend down to grab a large bucket full of cleaning supplies that waited beside the tyres, allowing Steve to look shamelessly at your ass as you did.
You busy yourself with grabbing the rest of the gear—the hose, the wash mitts, wheel brushes and a spare bucket while Steve watches, bottom lip pulled between his teeth as you lean down to fill up one of the buckets with soapy water, which allows him a clear view of your cleavage. He feels his traitorous cock swelling beneath his shorts already.
"So," you begin as you start by cleaning off the bird shit on the bonnet with a wet rag. "You got any plans this evening, Harrington?"
"Um," Steve begins, adjusting his stance so that you didn't see the growing bulge forming beneath his shorts. "Yeah. I um, I have a date."
Steve did not know what had possessed him to say those words. He did not, in fact, have a date tonight. In actuality, Steve had been planning to head straight home after the wash and fist his cock thinking about your tits in that tank top. But he couldn't tell you that.
You falter for the briefest of seconds when he mentions he was going on a date, something that felt an awful lot like disappointment swirling in your gut. You had thought, perhaps stupidly, that Steve might actually like you. That perhaps he was soon going to pluck up the courage and ask you out. But no, Steve Harrington was going on a date tonight with someone who wasn't you.
For a moment, you remain quiet. Despite the confidence you had gained from the years after high school, despite the fact you were no longer an awkward teenager, you found yourself feeling the way that you did back then. Inadequate. Not enough for a hot jock like Steve.
"Sounds fun. Hope you have a good time," you say finally as you finish scrubbing up the bird mess from the bonnet before you bend down to start cleaning the wheels.
You would have cleaned the rest of his car in complete silence, would have let the thought of him going on a date remain on your mind the entire wash. But then you remembered that you were completely alone with Steve and that you weren't the same shy, quiet girl you were in high school.You were a grown woman.
And so, if you wanted to fuck with him a little before his little date—you could do so.
You finish cleaning the wheels and tyres before you stand up straight, glancing over your shoulder to see Steve looking at you. You smile at him sweetly before turning your attention back to his car.
You grab the hose, turning it on to give his car a pre-rinse of loose dust and dirt (one that wasn't at all necessarily, considering he had only had his car washed on Monday) before you look over at him again.
"It's pretty fuckin' hot today," you comment, glancing up at the sun that was beating down on your exposed skin.
"Yeah," Steve says, a little distracted by the image he had of himself kissing up your exposed neck, of him licking the sweat off your skin as his hands roam all over your body, his hands slipping beneath those denim shorts and finding you already soaking wet—
Steve shakes his head, trying to stop his imagination from derailing any further and making his cock any harder than it already was.
"Yeah. It is really hot."
God—now he was stating the fucking obvious. He wondered what the hell had happened to the guy who once only needed to smile at a girl for her to drop her panties for him.
Oh yeah—you happened.
It was quiet again then, the only sounds being the water dripping onto the beamer. You lean unnecessarily over the front bonnet, not bothering to pull your shorts down as they ride up the backs of your thighs, exposing the very bottom of your ass cheeks for Steve to gawk at. Which he does—shamelessly.
You switch off the hose, grabbing the spray nozzle from the supply bucket and twisting it onto the hose pipe before you turn to look at a very flustered looking Steve.
"Did you mind if I take my top off?" You ask him, tilting your head to the side with a sickly sweet smile as you watch Steve's eyes widen. "Don't worry, I have a bikini on underneath. It's just—it's really hot—"
"—y-yes,” Steve stutters out quickly, breathless with want, heat prickling up his neck that had nothing to do with the summer sun and everything to do with you. “Ye-eah, if it’s hot for you then I don’t—”
The words die on his tongue, in fact, any coherent thought that Steve has disappears at the sight of you pulling your tank top off over your head. The sight of the cherry red bikini you were wearing beneath was nothing short of torture for Steve. Your tits looked—fuck—incredible, the material of your bikini hugging your breasts perfectly and making Steve’s shorts feel way too tight.
You could see Steve’s reaction. It was hard not to miss the large tent that had formed at the front of his red shorts. You can’t help but look because you had heard so many rumours over the years about how big Steve Harrington’s cock was and now—now you could see the clear, thick outline of it through those shorts of his. The undeniable evidence that yes, Steve Harrington’s cock was fucking huge.
And fuck, if the sight of it didn’t make your pussy throb.
You turn the hose on, switching to the soft shower setting as you spray Steve’s car like you weren’t already thinking of your next move, thinking about a way to make Steve Harrington lose his damn mind.
“Just gonna—try and cool down a bit,” you tell Steve, turning to face him with the hose still spraying water in your hand.
Steve blinks back at you, too dazed, too turned on to really understand anything you were saying to him. He just nods, his lips parting as he tries to form a reply.
But you don’t wait for him to do so.
You raise the hose above your head, letting the spray drench your upper body. It was cold and you let out a small, satisfied moan at the feeling of the water cooling your too hot skin. You feel the goosebumps forming over your skin, feel your nipples harden beneath the material of your bikini and you can’t help but look over at Steve to gauge his reaction. When you see him looking at you like you were the most delicious thing he had ever laid eyes on, you don’t hesitate to lower the spray directly onto your breasts.
The cold water hitting your tits directly makes you squeal, coupled with the feeling of your sensitive peaks rubbing against the material of your bikini makes something hot surge through your body.
“Feels s’good,” you moan out, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you tilt your head back, feeling the water drip down over your stomach and into your denim shorts.
You can’t see Steve but you certainly hear the way he takes in a shuddering breath.
You switch the hose off, glancing down at your bikini top that was now completely soaked through, your perked nipples poking through the material and making Steve forget every single word in the English language.
“I b-bet it d-does,” Steve manages to say, his throat feeling too tight, his cock now so hard that it was almost painful. “Ni-nice and w-wet, huh?”
“Yeah, huh,” you smile at him, your eyes dropping back down to the bulge that had formed his shorts for the briefest of seconds before you look back up at his stupidly handsome face. “I’m so wet, Stevie.”
Steve lets out a noise—something that almost sounded like a whimper and the sound goes straight to your throbbing cunt.
“T-that so?” Steve asks, his hands now twitching with the effort it was taking him to not palm himself over his shorts, to give himself some relief from the aching he was feeling from between his thighs. He could feel himself leaking already. You just looked so fucking hot, your top half completely drenched, water dripping down the valley of your breasts and your fucking nipples—
You let out a small tut, glancing down at your denim shorts that were also now beginning to drip with water.
“These might have to come off too,” you hum, your fingers slipping just beneath the waistband of the denim and causing Steve’s eyes to nearly bulge out of his head. “Is that okay with you, Stevie?”
Steve can only nod, completely unable to form a sentence as your words finally register.
“Words, Stevie,” you tell him, one of your hands trailing upwards, gliding over your wet skin to cup one of your breasts over your bikini. “Be a good boy and use your words.”
You weren’t entirely sure what had gotten into you. Sure, the car wash wasn’t in the middle of town but you were still very much at risk for getting caught if another customer pulled in. But maybe it was the heat finally getting to you or maybe it was the fact that Steve Harrington was stood less than eight feet away from you, hard as a fucking rock all because you decided to fuck with him.
And you certainly weren’t going to stop now.
“Yes,” Steve grits out finally, his jaw tight as he watches you roll your nipple between two fingers, pleasure blooming across your face at the sensation. “Yes, please—fuck—take ‘em off too.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” you hum, your hands returning to the waistband of your shorts to unbutton them.
Steve Harrington had never looked so desperate. You watch, your shorts pooling at your feet, as Steve runs one of his large hands through his hair, fingers tugging at the strands as though that would offer him some kind of relief.
“You good, Stevie?” You ask him as you switch the hose back on, blasting a spray of cold water to your stomach, causing your body to jolt and sending a shot of pleasure through your body. You were so ridiculously turned on, cleaning Steve’s car was at the very back of your mind as you felt heat pooling between your thighs. That feeling, almost like molten lava surging directly to your core, made any rational thought leave your mind entirely.
“You can touch yourself y’know,” you tell him, your own voice completely breathless, mostly from the cold water spraying over your warm skin but also from the fact Steve Harrington was looking at you as though he wanted nothing more than to devour you.
Steve groans—he actually fucking groans—at your words, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as one of his hands rest on his soft tummy, tugging it up slightly and revealing a dark trail of hair that disappeared into his shorts. That sight made your cunt clench around nothing.
“You sure?” Steve asks you, his hips bucking upwards in a not so subtle way, trying to seek some relief. “I don’t—I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”
You almost roll your eyes, he was being so kind, so considerate and so Steve that you felt your heart beat a little faster in your chest.
But you also wanted him to take a fucking hint.
“Touch yourself,” you tell him, switching the setting on the nozzle with one hand as the other directs the spray directly towards your covered cunt. “I want you to watch me and I want you to touch yourself.”
Steve didn’t even have time to comprehend what you were about to do, didn’t have time to prepare himself for what was about to happen. And so, the moment that you move the hose between your legs, directing the spray right against your covered clit—that was the moment Steve Harrington lost all sense of control.
Steve lets out a loud, shameless groan of your name, a sound that you hope you would never forget before he hastily tugs down his shorts, his boxers quick to follow.
Nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for the first sight of Steve Harrington’s cock. It was fucking beautiful. Long, thick and impossibly heavy. The audible smack that it made as it slaps against his soft tummy makes your mouth feel dry. You couldn’t help but notice how the ruddy tip was leaking, how precum was dribbling down a vein that bulged down his length.
“You’re so fucking big, Stevie,” you tell him, completely breathless as you press the nozzle against your clothed cunt, a moan slipping out as the pressure hits your swollen clit and causing your thighs clench around the hose. “S’fucking big.”
“Fuck,” He groans, one hand gripping the stack of tyres beside him to steady himself while the other wraps around the base of his thick cock. “You’re so fucking hot, I—”
Whatever Steve was about to say was almost entirely drowned out by the sound of his own moan as he began to stroke his cock. The sight was truly something to marvel at. His handsome face twisted in pleasure as he began to fuck his fist, the hair he had been famous for in high school now falling in front of his eyes, completely dishelved as he lost himself in watching you continue to press the nozzle between your thighs, watching your tits bounce with every movement and listening to the sweet sounds of pleasure falling from your lips.
“Look at you, Stevie,” you gasp out, a smile tugging on your lips as you watch him pump his thick cock desperately, his eyes darting between the nozzle between your thighs and your face contorted with pleasure. “Such a good boy, aren’t you?”
He whimpers. King Steve, Steve the hair Harrington fucking whimpers at your words and you swear, you could had gotten off to that sound alone.
“Yes,” he groans out, his hand twisting as he reaches the tip of his cock, hips canting up into every stroke. “Only for you, baby.”
Your stomach tightened. Your body felt as though it was burning, pleasure was surging through every cell in your body at the pet name. You wanted nothing more than to drop the damn hose, get on your knees and take Steve’s cock into your mouth until your jaw ached. But you couldn’t give him what he wanted. Not yet anyway.
But you needed more, you needed something because you were so close and you knew Steve was too. You could hear it in those small groans and whimpers he was letting out, could see it in the way he was biting down on his bottom lip so much that he was in danger of drawing blood.
And so, you lean back against his car, one hand pulling the nozzle slightly away from your body as the other tugs down your bikini bottoms, exposing your soaked cunt to the hot summer air.
Steve looks as though he was in physical pain from holding back as he gets a full view of your glistening wet pussy. You watch, heart hammering, as his tongue swipes along his lower lip, as though he was desperate for a taste.
But you wouldn’t give him that—you just wanted to give him something to remember when he was on that fucking date tonight.
You direct the water directly against your clit and the moan you let out surely could have been heard from miles away. Pleasure shoots through you, so intense that you had to grab onto Steve’s car behind you with your free hand so you wouldn’t lose your footing.
“Stevie,” you gasp out, your hips jerking upwards as you chase that feeling again. “Stevie, are you—”
“—yeah,” Steve groans out, the wet sounds of him fucking his fist with his precum meeting your ears and making the heat burning inside of you feel even more intense. “Yeah, baby. I’m—I’m s’fucking close. Gonna cum. Gonna cum fuckin’ watching you. You’re so fuckin’ good. So fuckin’ hot, baby.”
You mewl out, white hot pleasure consuming you as cold water blasted against your swollen clit. It was too much, the pressure, the fact that Steve Harrington was fucking watching you, that he was getting off and that you weren’t even fucking touching. It was so hot. It was so fucking hot and you could feel the pressure—building, building, building and—
Steve lets out a sound, one that was almost animalistic in its desperation. And you watch as he spills white ropes of his cum down onto the hot concrete and the sight of how much fucking cum was coating the asphlat was what tipped you right over the edge with him.
You let out a wanton moan, one that ripped from the very back of your throat, one that you felt deep within your bones. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your thighs shook, your release mixing with the water being sprayed from the nozzle and Steve’s name fell from your lips like it belonged there.
You didn’t know how long both of you stood there—you still leaning against Steve’s car for support and Steve bracing himself against the tyres. All you knew was that when you finally found the courage to look over at Steve—you found that he was already looking right at you.
“I don’t actually have a date tonight,” he tells you, leaning down to pull up his shorts and boxers that he pooled at his feet while you mirror his actions, switching off the hose and tugging your bikini bottoms back up. “I don’t—I don’t know why I told you that I did but I—”
“—do you want one?” You ask him, your voice still a little breathless from the intensity from your orgasm.
Steve blinks, seemingly confused at your words as he looks at you quizzically. “I don’t know what you—”
It then seems to hit him, he seems to understand the meaning of your words and the smile that breaks out across his face was so breathtakingly beautiful that you couldn’t look away.
And when he takes a step closer, you feel as though he has stolen the air from your lungs.
“With you?” Steve asks softly, leaning in to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, fingers then lingering on the warm skin of your cheek. “Of course I fucking do.”
Summary: You get a tad jealous when a girl from the video store calls your boyfriend, Steve is more than happy to suffer the consequences
A/N: Not proofread sorry guys :/ Cheeky little smut to ask for forgiveness for being inactive, I should have two more imagines coming out this week if all goes to plan. Hope you're having a lovely day cuties xo
Warnings: MDNI!!!! SMUT, praise kink if you squint, fingering, p in v (no condom! don't be silly guys wrap that willy)
You were sprawled across Steves lap on the couch, his big hand lazily stroking up and down your thigh while some mindless movie played on the TV. It was one of those rare quiet evening at his house, no monsters, no missions, just the two of you tangled together. His hair was still a little messy from your fingers running through it earlier, and his shirt was half unbuttoned from the way you'd been kissing him.
The phone rang. Steve groaned, tilting his head back against the cushions. "Shit, probably Dustin again." He reached over and grabbed the receiver without moving you off his lap.
"Hello?"
You watched his face as the voice on the other end chirped brightly. A girl. Definitely not Dustin.
"Oh, hey, Robins not here right now," Steve said, his tone polite but friendly. "Yeah, its Steve. Whats up?"
Your stomach swisted. You knew that voice, sort of. One of the girls who worked at the video store. The one who always leaned over the counter a little too far when Steve came in, giggling at his dumb jokes and finding excuses to brush his hand when she handed him tapes. She'd been calling more often lately under the excuse of "Store Stuff."
Steves hand kept rubbing your thight, oblivious.
"Yeah, we've got a copy of the 'The Breakfast Club'… No, I think we're closed tomorrow, but I can hold it for you if you want."
You narrowed your eyes. Hold it for you. The way she laughed through the phone, all sweet anf flirty, made your blood heat. Steve wasn't hers. The though of some video store girl trying to get his attention made you want to remind him exactly who he was with.
You shifted in his lap, turning so you were straddling him properly. Steve glanced at you with a small, questioning smile, but kept talking.
"Sure, I can check the inventory list-"
You didnt give him time to finish. Leaning in, you pressed your lips to the side of his neck, right under his jaw where you knew he was sensititve. He tensed slightly, breath hitching.
"Uh, yeah… I'm still here," he said into the phone, voice a little rougher.
You smiled against his skin and sucked gently, then harder, leaving a mark. Your hands slid down his chest, fingers working open the rest of his buttons. Steve's free hand gripped your hip tighter in warning, but you felt him twitch beneath you.
The girl kept talking, something about new releases and how Steve always gave the best recommendations. You rolled your hips slowly against him, grinding down on the growing bulge in his jeans. Steve bit back a groan, turning it into a cough.
"Yeah, thats one's… really good," he managed.
His voiced cracked when you reached between you and palmed him through his pants, stroking firmly.
"Fuck- I mean, uh, its a classic."
You smirked, loving how he was fighting to stay composed. You popped the button on his jeans and tugged the zipper down, slipping your hand inside to wrap around his cock. He was already half hard, thickening quickly in your grip. You stroked him slowly, thumb circling the head, spreading the bead of precum that had leaked out.
Steve's head fell back against the couch, eyes squeezing shut for a second.
"Mhm. No Im good just… tripped over something."
His hand on your hip slid under your shirt, squeezing your waist like he needed something to hold onto.
You leaned down and whispered right against his ear, quiet enough the phone wouldn't pick it up, "Tell her you're busy, Steve."
Instead, he kept listening, jaw clenched. So you doubled down.
You slid off his lap and onto your knees between his spread thighs. Steve's eyes flew open, staring down at you in a mix of panic and raw want. You pulled his cock free, thick and flushed, and gave him one long, slow lick from base to tip.
"Shit." He nearly dropped the phone. "Sorry, uh, the cat. We dont have a cat, nevermind."
You took him into your mouth, lips stretching around him as you sank down. Steve's hips jerked, and his free hand flew to your hair, gripping tight but not pushing. You bobbed your head, taking him deeper, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue just the way he liked. The wet sounds were quiet, but you knew he could hear them. Every time the girl on the phone said something else, you sucked harder.
Steve's voice was getting strained. "Yeah… yeah, I'll let Robin know. Listen i gotta go, something just came up-"
You looked up at him through your lashes, lips wrapped tight around his cock, and took him all the way to the back of your throat. Steve's grip in your hair tightened, a low, broken groan escaping before he could stop it.
"Fuck, sorry- bad connection," he rasped. "Talk later. Bye."
He slammed the phone down so hard the whole thing rattled.
"Jesus Christ, baby," Steve growled, finally free. Both hands tangled in your hair as he thrust up into your mouth. "You're so fucking jealous… so hot when you get like this."
You moaned around him, the vibration making his thighs ense. He fucked your mouth for a few more strokes before pulling you off with a wet pop, breathing hard.
"Up here. Now."
You barely had time to stand before he yanked you back onto his lap, shoving your skirt up and panties aside. In one smooth motion he pulled you down onto his cock, burying himself inside you in a single thrust. You both moaned loudly, the stretch perfect and overwhelming.
Steves mouth crashed against yours, messy and desperate.
"All yours," he muttered between kisses, hands gripping your ass as he guided you to ride him.
"Not hers. Never hers. Only you."
You rocked your hips faster, grinding down hard every time you sank onto him. The jealousy still simmered in your chest, mixing with the heat until it burned away into pure pleasure.
"Say it again," you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders
"Only you," Steve roaned, thrusting up to meet you.
"Fuck, only you, baby. Always."
He reached between you to rub your clit, relentless, until your thighs started shaking. The phone call was long forgotten. There was only the slap of skin, your moans and Steves wrecked voice chanting your name like a prayer as he came deep inside you, pulling you over the edge with him.
Afterward, you collapsed against his chest, both of you sweaty and breathing hard. Steve pressed a kiss to your temple, a lazy, satisfied smile on his face.
"Next time she calls," he murmured, voice hoarse, "You can answer the phone whilst im between your legs."
You laughed softly against his collarbone, still catching your breath, his cock still buried deep inside you. Steve's hands stroked up and down your back, soothing and possessive at the same time.
"Deal," you whispered, nipping at his skin again.
Steve hummed, the sound vibrating through this chest.
"You're trouble, you know that?" He tilted you chin up and kissed you slow and deep, tongue sliding against yours like he was tasting the jealousy that had driven you to your knees earlier. When he pulled back, his hazel eyes were dark, a wicked little smirk tugging at his lips.
"That phone call really got to you, huh."
You narrowed your eyes, rolling your hips once just to watch his breath hitch. "She's always flirting with you. Leaning over the counter, batting her lashes."
Steve groaned as you clenched around him. "Baby, I dont even remember her name half the time. Only one girl Im thinking about."
He flexed his hips, grinding up into you. "And she's currently dripping all over my lap."
Heat flooded your face, and somewhere much lower. You tried to move off him, but Steve's grip on your hips tightened, keeping you seated.
"Nuh uh. Not done with you yet." He stood up suddenly, still inside you, strong arms holding you against him as your legs wrapped around his waist. You yelped, clinging to his shoulders while he carried you down the hallway toward his bedroom, each step making him nudge deeper.
He kicked the door shut behind you and dropped you onto his bed, following right after. In seconds he had your skirt and panties off, tossing them somewhere across the room. Your shirt followed. Steve hovered over you, shirt hanging open, jeans barely pushed down his thighs, looking like pure sin.
"Gonna make sure you forget all about that phone call," he murmured, kissing down your neck, sucking fresh marks into your skin. Lower and lower until his mouth closed over your breast, tongue flicking your nipple while his fingers slid between your legs, spreading the mess of your combined release.
"Steve-" you gasped as two thick fingers pushed back inside you, curling just right.
He worked you open again, slowly and filthy, thumb circling your swollen clit. Every time you moaned his name he grinned against your skin, clearly enjoying how easily he could turn the tables.
When you were trembling and close again, he pulled his fingers out and flipped you onto your stomach. He yanked your hips up, pressing your chest into the mattress.
"Arch your back for me, baby. Thats is…"
You barely had time to obey before he thrust back into you in one smooth stroke, bottoming out with a groan. The new angle was devastating. He set a brutal pace, one hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he panted. "So tight. So wet. All for me."
You pushed back to meet every thrust, fingers twisting in the sheets. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, mixed with your broken moans and Steves filthy praise.
"Tell me you're jealous again," he growled, slowing down to deep, punishing rolls of his hips. "Tell me why you sucked my cock while I was on the phone.
"I didnt like her voice," you gasped, pushing back harder. "Didn't like her trying to get your attention… you're all mine Steve."
"Yeah, I am." He leaned over you, chest to your back, biting your shoulder as he drove in deeper. "All yours. This dick is yours. Say it."
"Its mine," you whimpered, pleasure coiling tight in your belly. "Only mine."
Steve reached around and rubbed your clit again, fast and perfect. "Then come for me, baby. Let me feel you."
You shattered hard, crying out his name as your walls clenched around him. Steve followed right after, burying himself deep and groaning loudly as he spilled inside you again, hips stuttering through the aftershocks.
He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his chest. For a few minutres there was only heavy breathing and gentle kisses on your forehead, your cheek, your lips.
Eventually Steve chuckled. low and warm. "Next time she calls… im not answering. Or maybe I will and you can ride me while I tell her I'm very, very busy."
You smacked his chest lightly, laughing despite the fresh wave of heat the words sent through you. "You're such an asshole."
"Your asshole," he corrected, grinning as he rolled you on top of him again. His hands smoothed over your ass, squeezing. "And I'm nowhere near done proving it tonight."
You felt him twitch against your thigh, already half hard again
"Round three?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.
Steves smirk was pure trouble
"Round three. Then the shower. Then maybe my desk chair. We've got all night, baby and I want you to still be jealous tomorrow when we go return those tapes.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ₊ ֹ ˖ pulling your panties to the side for a quickie +18 ୨౿
waiting for robin at steve’s house has always been a tradition. the three of you were supposed to have a friends night; some movies, snacks and probably robin complaining about work.
but like always, she was running late. so steve pulled you into his room the second he knew she was going to arrive late, closing the door behind you with a cocky smirk.
‘’got a few minutes before she arrives,’’ he said while he pushed you against the wall. his hand slid up your skirt.
‘’been wanting this all fucking day.’’ he growled. his fingers hooked into your panties and pulled them roughly to the side, not bothering to take them off.
‘’fuuck, steve… she could be here any minute,’’ you whispered in a half-protest tone.
without another word, he freed himself from his jeans, and rubbed the head of his cock against your slick entrance.
‘’i know,’’ he smirked. ‘’that’s why it’s gonna be quick. don’t say you don’t want this when you’re already so wet f’me princess, huh?’’
he pushed himself into you in one hard thrust, burying himself deep. you gasped while your nails digged into his shoulder as he started fucking you fast and rough again wall.
then it was just the wet sounds of your skin and his slapping that were filling the room.
‘’fuck, you’re so wet,’’ he groaned as his hips snaped against yours. ‘’y’hear that? that’s the sound of your pussy while i fuck you’’
he gripped your thigh, holding your leg around his waist as he pounded into you. he started fucking you hard and fast. his right hand kept on your panties, keeping them to one side so they wouldn’t get in the way.
you whimpered shakily as steve’s cock nudged that snug sensitive spot inside you.
‘’steve… shit. oh god.’’ you moaned. his lips lingered on your neck, giving you wet kisses and bites. he put his other hand over your mouth, smirking down at you.
‘’shh, baby. don’t be noisy. be good f’me.'' he fucked you harder and deep. ''you’re so tight and wet. ’’
his cock hit that perfect spot with every thrust. you felt tight around him, his cock disappearing into your dripping hole again and again.
‘’fuuuck, i’m close,’’ he groaned. ‘’gonna cum so deep in you. gonna breed this tight little cunt.’’ his breathing now was hot against your ear.
“my god, steve. slow down, i can’t…” you moaned, scratching his back to the point that he was almost bleeding.
‘’gonna fill you up before she gets here,’’ he said while his thrusts became messier. ‘’want to sit you next to me tonight with my cum leaking out of you all night.’’
you came first, hard around him, moaning against his hand as your thighs start shaking. steve followed the orgasm with a low groan, thrusting deep as he spilled inside you.
he stayed buried into you for a few seconds, catching his breath. then, he slowly pulled out, fixed your panties back into place and slapped slowly your ass.
‘’good girl,’’ he murmured as he kissed you once. ‘’don’t even think about cleaning yourself now. stay all filled up with me.’’
summary: a melting hawkins afternoon, one dripping ice cream cone, and steve’s eyes that can’t look away.
warnings: 18+, smut, mdni, dry humping, heavy sexual tension, best friends to lovers, public risk (car), swearing. not proofread.
the summers in hawkins were unbearable. the pavement burned through the thin soles of your shoes, and the sun pressed down so heavy it felt like it was melting everything it touched. your light tank top and shorts clung to your skin, offering no relief. you hated summer. in winter you could bundle up and escape the cold. here, even breathing felt like swallowing fire.
“i can’t believe i followed your stupid idea of getting in the car,” you muttered, wiping sweat from your forehead. “it’s literally hotter here than inside the mall.”
“it wasn’t an idea,” steve shot back, wiping his own sweaty palms on his jeans. “it was a suggestion.” his blue t-shirt was turning darker in patches, sticking to his chest. “and i said: maybe the car is colder because we parked it under a tree.”
“do you know what maybe means?” he added.
“yeah genius, but didn’t you think about something called sun that moves?” you replied.
“okay okay, eat your ice cream. i don’t want this baby getting sticky and covered with vanilla.” he gave up, knowing he’d never win an argument with you.
“it’s hot and we’re eating ice cream, steve. i can’t promise anything,” you shrugged.
his eyebrows stayed furrowed, eyes locked on every little movement you made. he thought you didn’t notice, but he was already clutching a wad of napkins, ready to wipe away any drip before it could touch the leather.
you loved pissing him off. two years of friendship and you still never got tired of it. he was funnier when he got grumpy, and he was used to it. he’d act annoyed for a minute, then be laughing at your dumb jokes three minutes later.
this summer you’d both decided to find jobs. you and robin teased him endlessly about not needing the money, but he insisted. he wanted to prove he could do it without leaning on his parents. robin had already landed something at the supermarket but steve hated the uniform and the pay, so the two of you kept applying to new places every monday like clockwork.
somehow you’d ended up at the ice cream shop, and now you had to deal with steve’s neat-freak ass and his obsession with keeping his car extremely clean.
“relax your annoying ass. it’s not my fault your big mouth devoured your cone a second after we got out of the mall.”
“i’m not gonna say anything else, but i swear if you mess it up, you’re cleaning it,” he said, running a hand through his damp hair. wet brown strands clung to his forehead.
“i’m not cleaning anything. especially not so you can keep showing off to your failed dates. it gives me secondhand embarrassment,” you laughed.
“one: those are not failed dates. and two, you only say that because you’re clearly jealous.”
“oh my god, you definitely have heatstroke. you’re literally talking nonsense now,” you said, bursting into laughter.
“i’m not making anything up. you only say that when you don’t have an argument against me and i’m just noticing a pattern.”
your smile faded a little. he had never gone there before, even when you teased him constantly. the words made your stomach flip with a nervousness you didn’t want to name.
of course he was your friend. that was the title you gave everyone else. but you spent every day together, crashed at each other’s houses, shared everything. nothing suspicious.
still, when he said it, your brain short-circuited. the silence that followed stretched on for a bit too long.
you cleared your throat and changed the subject, desperate to save your own sanity. you didn’t notice the way he was staring at you the whole time, waiting for a real answer.
“stop talking and listen,” you said after an awkward pause. “we have to check this new shop near the park. molly just told me they’re hiring. i don’t know what for but—” you kept talking, dragging the little plastic spoon through the softening ice cream and licking it slowly.
steve wasn’t listening anymore.
his mouth was still slightly open, shiny and pink from the flavor he’d finished earlier. you felt a cool shiver run down your spine despite the suffocating heat. you cleared your throat, forcing yourself to look away before your thoughts wandered somewhere they shouldn’t. he was staring straight at your lips.
you kept avoiding his eyes, trying to focus on talking, until the melted cream started running down your arm. “oh fuck,” drops of vanilla slid onto your thighs. you reacted fast, licking every streak from your skin, then opening your mouth to catch the falling scoop.
your tongue passed over your sticky fingers, cleaning them, before finally circling your cold, sweet lips.
when you glanced up, steve wasn’t complaining about the mess. his eyes were fixed on you.
he turned his head sharply, tapping the steering wheel, then shifted awkwardly and looked out the window.
the silence stretched too long, again.
“what are you getting weird for?” you asked, finishing the last bite of the cone.
“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, staring straight ahead.
“you know what i mean. why are you suddenly quiet and not yelling at me for almost ruining your car?”
“it doesn’t matter. can we go?” he reached for the keys, but you stopped him. your hand, still a little sticky, wrapped softly around his wrist. “why won’t you even look at me idiot? i’m serious.”
he wiped his hands, and your eyes followed unconsciously.
that’s when you saw it.
the obvious bulge straining against his jeans. heat flooded your cheeks, hotter than the sun outside. sweat slid down between your breasts, but this time it had nothing to do with the weather.
you gulped and looked at him. his t-shirt clung to every line of his chest like a second skin. the few inches between you suddenly felt impossibly small.
when he finally met your eyes, his pupils were blown wide.
people would call you a liar if you said you’d never noticed how attractive steve was. how broad his back looked when he stretched, how his biceps strained against those tight shirts. knowing you’d caused this reaction in him made your head spin.
“steve…” you breathed. you quickly glanced outside. the street was empty; it was the worst hour of a summer afternoon. no one was stupid enough to be out.
“fuck, i’m sorry, i don’t know why—” he started, hands moving nervously, but you weren’t listening anymore.
you bit your lip, then moved without thinking. you straddled him, settling on his lap. the sound that left steve’s mouth sent shivers through you. his body burned under yours, skin slick with sweat.
you slid your hands down his damp chest. he tensed, hips lifting instinctively to meet you.
“shit,” he moaned softly. his hands settled firm and sure on your lower back, holding you close like he’d been waiting years for permission.
“what are we doing?” he asked, eyes dropping to your lips before finding yours again. “i don’t know—” you struggled, because he kept moving, pressing his hard cock right against your core. “you’re the one who had a little problem down there,” you teased breathlessly. he smirked, and you laughed, the sound shaky with want. “says the one on top of me right now.” his hands slid down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter.
you couldn’t wait any longer, so you kissed him, one hand cupping the back of his neck while the other slipped into his hair. when he pulled back for air, looking around nervously, you rolled your hips slow and deliberate. “someone could walk by and se—fuck.”
“we’re the only idiots trying to get heatstroke in the middle of the street, steve.” you kissed him again, deeper. that was all it took. he opened his mouth, tongue sliding against yours, turning the kiss messy and desperate. the salt on his lips mixed with the lingering sweetness of ice cream. your hips ground together, pulling soft, needy sounds from both of you.
“god, you feel so fucking good.” he murmured against your mouth. one hand stayed on your hip guiding you, while the other cupped the back of your neck, pressing your foreheads together.
his other hand tugged at your soaked tank top; you helped him pull it off and did the same with his shirt. your palms slid over his bare biceps, squeezing the firm muscles as you moved faster.
your lips brushed with every shared breath, every gasp. you clenched around the hard press of him, desperate for more. he thrust up harder, chasing friction. the heat started pooling low in your belly, almost burning.
steve set a rhythm, steady and deep, like he never wanted it to end.
“i’m close,” he whispered into your mouth.
“me too,” you breathed, blood buzzing under your skin.
he gripped your ass again, helping you move exactly how you both needed. “just like that… oh god.” his head fell back against the seat, neck exposed and shining with sweat. you kissed along his throat until the pleasure crashed over you. “fuck,” you moaned, hips stuttering as waves rolled through you. steve kept going, chasing his own release until his body tensed and trembled beneath you, a soft whine pressed into your ear.
you stayed like that, foreheads together, breathing each other in while the car windows fogged from the heat of your bodies. the tension melted away, and suddenly you both burst into laughter, giddy and a little dazed.
you left a small, sweet peck on his lips.
he kissed you again, slower this time, cupping your jaw gently while his other hand rubbed soothing circles on your sticky back.
outside, the sun kept beating down, but for once the heat felt perfect.
Summary: After a casual movie night, you complain about your chest being “too much” while changing into a cute low-cut top in front of your best friend Steve Harrington. What starts as playful teasing quickly turns heated as Steve refuses to look away, leading to flirty confessions, lingering touches, and a blurred line between friendship and something much more intimate.
Word count: 1.2K
Warnings: NSFW, fluff, smutty vibes, flirting banter, Steve is a respectful perv (affectionate)
A/N: wait but is second puberty in your twenties actually real… tell me why I gained a whole bra cup size without gaining any weight??? Do any other girlies relate or am I suffering alone??
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It had been one of those rare quiet weeks in Hawkins. The nightmares from the Upside Down had finally started to fade into the background, and for once, the group wasn’t dealing with interdimensional threats or government conspiracies. Steve had shown up at your door around 6 PM with a stack of rented VHS tapes under one arm and two large pizzas balanced in the other. “Movie night, no excuses,” he’d announced with that signature grin, hair perfectly tousled even after a long shift at Family Video. “Robin’s working late, Dustin’s grounded, and I’m not watching these alone.”
You’d let him in without hesitation. Steve had become your person over the past couple of years. The one who always had your back, who made you laugh when the world felt too heavy, and who never treated you like you were just another girl from the past. Platonic, mostly. Sure, there were moments: the way his hand would linger on your lower back when guiding you through crowds, the late-night phone calls where his voice got soft, or how he’d stare a beat too long when you wore something that showed skin. But you both played it safe. Friends. Best friends.
The evening unfolded like so many others. You sprawled across the couch, legs tangled casually as the first horror movie played. Steve kept up his running commentary, mocking the bad special effects and dramatically pulling you closer during the jump scares “for protection.” Pizza grease on your fingers, stolen sips from each other’s drinks, laughter echoing through the house. By the second movie, the vibe had shifted into something warmer, lazier.
The final credits rolled across the TV screen as the second movie wrapped up with a ridiculous jump scare that made you both groan and laugh. Steve stretched his long arms overhead, his polo riding up just enough to show a sliver of toned stomach, before shooting you that lazy, warm grin. “Alright, I’m officially wiped. Your couch is great but my back is not built for another horror marathon tonight.” You nodded in agreement, feeling the post-movie haze settle in, and stood up, tugging your shirt down. “Come on, let’s head upstairs to my room. Way more comfortable and I’ve got actual blankets that don’t smell like popcorn.” Steve didn’t hesitate, grabbing the last couple of sodas and following you up the stairs with easy familiarity, the two of you still trading jokes about the movie’s terrible plot as you pushed open the door to your bedroom. The cozy space felt even more inviting in the low lamplight, and Steve flopped onto the edge of your bed like he belonged there.
You slipped into the bathroom attached to your room to change into something more comfortable. The cute little top you’d bought on a whim was calling your name: soft fabric, a hint of stretch, and yeah, it dipped low in the front. You wiggled into it, adjusting the straps, but the way it sat on your chest was… a lot. The cleavage stared back at you in the mirror, full and impossible to ignore.
“Ugh, these things are just too much,” you blurted out loud, half to yourself, half because Steve was right there in the next room and you had zero filter with him anymore. “Taking up so much damn space, it’s annoying as hell while trying to wear something cute.”
The bathroom door was open a crack, your mistake. Or maybe not.
Steve had been lounging on the edge of your bed, flipping through an old magazine, but at your words his head snapped up. You caught his reflection in the mirror as he stood, drawn like a magnet. He pushed the door open a little wider, leaning against the frame with that effortless cool he always wore, even when his brain was short-circuiting.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, eyes widening. He didn’t even try to hide it. His gaze dropped straight to your chest, slow and deliberate, tracing the swell of your breasts pushed up by the top. A long, appreciative look that made heat rush to your face. “You really just said that out loud?”
You turned around, arms half-crossed under your boobs which only made them look even more prominent. “Steve! I thought you wouldn’t hear me. Perv.”
He laughed, that rich, warm sound that always loosened the tension in your shoulders, but there was a husky edge to it tonight. “Hey, I’m just a guy. And you can’t drop a line like that and expect me not to investigate.” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, brown and sparkling with mischief, but there was real heat there too. “Too much? Annoying? Sweetheart, you’re standing there looking like every guy’s late-night fantasy and complaining about it?”
He stepped fully into the bathroom doorway now, close enough that you could smell his cologne mixed with the faint scent of popcorn from earlier. Not touching, but definitely invading your space in that friendly-yet-not way he did so well. Steve Harrington had always been a flirt, but with you it stayed mostly harmless, teasing compliments, protective arm around your shoulders during movie nights, the occasional lingering hug. Tonight felt different.
You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “They get in the way all the time. Clothes don’t fit right, running sucks, and don’t even get me started on trying to sleep on my stomach.”
Steve’s smirk deepened. He leaned in slightly, gaze dipping again without shame. “Yeah? Sounds rough. Real tragedy.” His voice was lower now, teasing but sincere. “Mind if I… form my own opinion? As your very supportive, very platonic friend.”
Before you could protest, not that you wanted to he reached out, gentle fingers brushing a stray strap back into place on your shoulder. The touch was light, but it sent sparks down your skin. His eyes stayed locked on the cleavage, drinking in the soft curves, the way the fabric hugged you. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “They’re perfect. Not annoying at all. Just… a lot to handle. In the best way.” He straightened up, running a hand through his signature hair, but the flush on his cheeks gave him away. Steve was rattled, and he liked it.
You laughed, pushing at his chest lightly. “You’re ridiculous. We’re friends, remember? You’re not supposed to stare like that.”
“Who says?” He caught your hand before you could pull it back, holding it against his chest for a second. His heart was beating faster than normal. “Friends can appreciate… assets. Especially when said friend blurts it out like that. C’mon, you had to know I wasn’t gonna let that slide.”
The air felt thicker in the small bathroom. Steve didn’t back off. Instead, he tugged you gently toward the bedroom, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed with him. The radio kept playing softly in the background, some love ballad that felt way too on-the-nose.
“Seriously though,” he said after a beat, his usual cocky grin fading into something softer, more intense. “You’re gorgeous. All of you. If those are causing you trouble, maybe I can help test some solutions. Like… different tops. Or no tops.” He winked, but his hand stayed near yours on the bed, thumb brushing your knuckles.
You shoved him playfully, but stayed close. “Steve Harrington, king of smooth talk even when he’s half-hard from a wardrobe malfunction.”
He didn’t deny it. His laugh was a little strained this time. “Guilty. Can you blame me? You’re in my bedroom—well, your bedroom—looking like that and talking about your boobs being ‘too much.’ I’m only human.”
The conversation stretched from there. Steve kept the vibe light at first, cracking jokes about his own failed attempts at fashion advice back in his King Steve days, how he used to think he knew everything about what girls wanted. But the looks kept coming, quick stolen glances when you shifted, longer ones when you leaned forward to grab a water bottle from the nightstand. Each time his eyes would trace the cleavage, the soft bounce, the way the top clung.
Eventually you ended up lying back on the bed together, shoulders touching, talking about everything and nothing. The movie, the Upside Down scars you both carried, how nice it was to just exist without monsters for once. But the undercurrent was electric. Steve rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand, and let his free hand rest lightly on your waist.
“You know I’d never push, right?” he said quietly, sincerity cutting through the flirtation. “We’re friends. But… damn, if you ever wanted more than looking…” His eyes dropped again, hungry but patient. “I’d be there. Appreciating every inch.”
You turned to face him, the proximity making your pulse race. His breath was warm against your skin. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then Steve leaned in, pressing a soft, testing kiss to your collarbone, right above the line of the top. Not demanding. Just… tasting the moment.
“See?” he murmured against your skin, voice rough.
The night didn’t end with clothes coming off completely, not yet but it evolved. Steve’s hands stayed respectful even as they explored, tracing the curves he’d been admiring, murmuring compliments between kisses along your neck and shoulder. “Too much space? Baby, they fit perfectly in my hands.” His touch was confident, gentle, the same Steve who’d swung a bat at demodogs now completely focused on making you feel wanted.
Hours blurred. Laughter mixed with heated whispers. He never once let the “just friends” line stop him from looking, touching, teasing. By the time the sun threatened to creep up, you were tangled in sheets, his head pillowed near your chest, fingers idly tracing patterns on your skin.
“Still annoying?” he asked sleepily, that smirk audible even in the dark.
You ran your fingers through his hair. “Maybe not so much anymore.”
Steve chuckled, pressing one last kiss there. “Good. Because I’m gonna need a lot more opportunities to study the situation. Friend’s honor.”
And just like that, the line between friends and something more had blurred, thanks to one blurted complaint and Steve Harrington’s inability to look away from what you were blessed with.
⋆˚꩜｡SUMMARY: you walk in on steve pleasuring himself in the bathroom
⋆˚꩜｡TAGS: no y/n, steve x reader, reader insert, college setting, desperate!steve, nervous!reader
⋆˚꩜｡TW: NSFW 18+ content, minors do not interact!! | male masterbation, voyeurism, hand job, praise, multiple orgasms, a tiny bit of overstim
⋆˚꩜｡WC: 1.8k
⋆˚꩜｡A/N: for my djoups<3 this is based on a dream i had in 2023:) enjoy!!
It was a typical Tuesday night. Nearing around 11pm. You sighed, treading down the hall, back towards where your dorm is. Your slippers lazily scraped across the floor, not being bothered enough to fully pick up your feet with each step. You held your towel in one hand, drying your hair as you walked, humming a quiet tune to yourself. The other hand held your overflowing shower caddy.
You preferred showering late at night. The bathrooms were quiet. You were able to actually take your time, not having to rush through your routine.
As you turned the corner you noticed the door to the men’s bathroom was cracked, a soft warm light shining through. You didn’t think anything of it. As you got closer you could hear faint noises coming from inside. You ignored it, too tired to care. Just as you were about to pass it, the sound of muffled moans stopped you in your tracks.
Keep walking. Keep walking.
Your feet betrayed you and began stepping towards the door before you could stop yourself. Your heart began pounding as the noises grew louder the closer you got. You peeked through and what you saw was enough to make your stomach drop.
There stood your best friend, Steve, planted in front of the bathroom mirror. The room was foggy. The air thick and filled with steam from a hot shower. His hair was dripping wet, causing beads of water to fall down to his bare skin and onto the floor.
Your eyes raked down his body. He has one hand on the counter in front of him keeping his balance. His basketball shorts were pulled down in the front just enough so that his other hand could pull and jerk at his aching, leaking cock.
You watch as his head falls back with a quiet moan as he strokes for his own pleasure. The sight has your jaw slacked. Weak. You feel weak. You know this is wrong. You shouldn’t be standing here watching him. Watching your best friend in such a vulnerable state.
And yet, your feet don’t move. They don’t even try. Your stomach tightens. You feel yourself squeezing your legs together to try and subside that stupid annoying feeling that’s happening inside you.
You always knew Steve was good looking. You’re not blind. But you never actually thought about him like this.
You don’t actually know how you never looked at him like this before. I mean…jesus. It was like you were in a trance. His wet hair, the way his eyebrows knitted together and his eyes shut tight. The way his stomach was twitching from the sensations he was causing himself. The occasional flex of his bicep while he jerked himself off.
His hand moved at a steady pace. You almost fell to your knees when he let out a quiet soft whimper of a moan as he worked higher towards his tip.
Oh my god.
Then of course. The universe decided to play its own version of a sick joke on you. Before you could react or even register what was happening, your shower caddy decided right now was the perfect time to finally give out. All of your shower products flew out of the basket and onto the floor with a loud bang.
Steve’s head whipped towards the sudden noise, his eyes immediately finding you. You froze. You looked at all the bottles on the floor and then back at him. Then back at the bottles….then back at him again. What exactly are you supposed to do in this situation?
“I—um—I—sorry I was just—“ you stumble over your words, unable to find anything to say that could possibly make this situation better. You look anywhere but at him, too humiliated to even glance in his direction. “I um…I’m sorry. I didn’t see—“
“Shh, hey it’s okay.” he finally spoke. You were terrified. What he said next was the opposite of what you expected. “Can you help me?” he asked.
Your breathing hitched. You almost choked on your own spit, your body tensing immediately. It’s almost like the world was put on mute. All you can hear is the deep drum of your heart beat. A shiver runs down your spine and you can literally feel your throat close up, struggling to get any words out.
What the fuck? What the actual fuck is going on?
You should leave. You should grab your things off the floor and lock yourself in your room and never come out again. Maybe even transfer schools and forget this ever happened.
That’s not what you do though. Instead, without even realizing it, you find yourself nodding your head to his question.
He speaks again, “C’mere.” His voice was quiet and soft. It was laced with traces of need and want. Maybe even some desperation.
You exhale shakily, setting down the rest of your things. You slowly step into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. He watches you carefully, as you start to inch towards him nervously.
“I—How do you want—?”
“Get behind me. Can you do that for me? Please?”
Normally you’d be embarrassed by how fast you complied. But right now you couldn’t care less. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire and that’s all you can focus on. Along with the ache between your thighs.
You swallowed hard, your throat feeling dry and heavy. He could see the nerves in your body language. Feeling it radiating off of you.
“Hey, s’okay. I got you.” he looked at you through the fogged mirror, unable to make out any features. “S’just me, mkay? Your best friend. Your Steve.” He reached behind himself, grabbing your hand and rubbing it gently. An attempt to calm your nerves. “Need your help so bad. Would you be a good friend and help me?”
You nod, nervously. You lift your hands to his shoulders, letting them trace gently down his arms all the way to his wrists. Your movements are slow and unsure. You feel him shiver underneath your touch, only to melt into it once your hands find their way to his bare chest. Your fingers gliding over top of his chest hair.
The second he melted into your touch it was like all nervousness left your body. Without a second thought you leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on his shoulder. He exhaled in pleasure, biting his lip to stifle a moan when your hands rubbed up and down his body.
“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for so long. ‘Bout you.” he spoke through deep breaths.
The heat in your stomach only grew at his words. The fresh panties you were wearing were certainly growing wetter by the second.
You pulled your arms back, causing him to frown. The sound of you spitting in your hand quickly replaced that frown with a lazy smile. Your left hand wrapped around his torso, running up and down his chest while your other hand found its way to his aching cock.
He hissed the second you grabbed onto him, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. Your hand finally began to move up and down his length. You started off slow, teasing, pulling a quiet “fuck” from his lips.
Your free hand roamed all over his chest and stomach, wanting to feel every inch you could reach. Keeping your movements slow, you placed a trail of kisses all over his upper back, causing a deep exhale to escape his lips. You squeezed slightly tighter, a real moan finally coming out.
Music to your ears.
It was right then that you stopped holding back. All you wanted was to hear that sound over and over again. The sound of your best friend completely at your mercy. Weak over your touch.
You picked up your pace, your hand moving up and down in a corkscrew motion. His head fell backwards, landing on your shoulder. The bathroom was quickly filled with sounds of his erratic moans and the sound of you jerking him off.
“Doin’ so good—fuck—makin’ me feel so good.” he spoke in between moans.
“Yeah?” you smiled, watching his face scrunch tight through the mirror in front of you two.
You kept a steady rhythm, not too fast, not too slow. His noises and little twitches encouraging you to finally ask what’s been on your mind since he said it. “You said you’ve been thinking about this? You and me?”
“Mhm, ahh fuck.” he leaned into your touch, trying to steady himself. “You came over one day—shit go faster. Please, please go faster.” a loud moan rippled through the bathroom. “You were wearing that one skirt—“
Before he could finish his sentence, your hand reached the top of his shaft, right underneath his tip. He jolted in your hands, a literal whimper escaping from his mouth.
Your lips immediately quirked up into a wide smile, knowing you’d just found his spot. “That feel good?” you ask, keeping your movements focused on that one spot.
“Ahh—fffuck yes.”
“The skirt. Tell me about the skirt.”
“The short black one—“ he struggled to talk coherently, his breathing growing heavier as he reached his climax. “—you came over wearing it. Dropped your keys—m’so close.”
“I know, I know. Deep breaths, you can do it. Keep tellin’ me.”
“Y-you bent over to pick em up. Your little pink panties on complete display f’me.”
Your face reddened. You don’t even remember that.
“Ever since then, been wanting to get my hands on you.”
His words made your knees weak. Like actually weak. You suddenly felt like jelly. Your core clenching around nothing, begging for some kind of relief.
Your arm was burning but that didn’t stop you from going faster, determined to get him to his release.
After a few more moans and curses, Steve threw his head back once again, landing on your shoulder. A loud, breathless moan ripped through him as his come shot all over your hand and his stomach. But you didn’t stop there. You kept your movements going up to his tip, wanting to hear those whimpers from earlier.
He cried out, knees buckling. You stepped back, his sudden body weight almost knocking the both of you over. You didn’t dare stop.
“Ahh fuck I can’t—“ he whined loudly.
You paid extra close attention to where his shaft and tip met, rubbing up and down in tiny movements. He was putty in your hands. He tried to talk but nothing coherent could come out. The overstimulation too much.
Only when a second orgasm ripped through him did you finally stop. He was completely and utterly spent. His chest heaved, struggling to catch his breath.
You released him from your grasp, bringing your hand up to your mouth. He turned around and watched with awe as you licked his come off each of your fingers until your hand was clean.
With wide eyes and dilated pupils he finally spoke, “Jesus fucking christ.”
You smiled. Before you could say anything he grabbed you by your waist, pulling you close. “C’mere, it’s your turn.”
cw: smut, all things boobs, piv (not very descriptive sorry i went blank) fluff, pet names
a/n: icl i always felt like joe was an ass guy but i may have just changed my own mind with this
wc: 1.4k
there was no denying joes attraction to your boobs. even he was fully open about it.
in public he'd shamelessly stare at your chest, practically drooling over them if you had a low cut top on.
on stage, god forbid he looks to the side and sees the way your tits bounce slightly as you jump up and down to the music, he’s distracted and horny for the rest of the set.
his favourite thing to buy you was lingerie, more specifically, bras. lots of bras, different colours, some lace, some push up.
he knew your requirements off by heart, he knew which styles required the next cup size up, how far to tighten the straps, what shops sold the best quality, your personal favourites.
in private he'd be all over your boobs, grabbing and pulling and kissing and biting at them, burying his head between them until you were worried he'd suffocate.
you’d remind him all the time to come up for air in which he’d reply, “i’d happily die between them, babe”
the last few months you’d been on tour with him, and it had been the best. tonight he had a show, the last of many.
to celebrate the end of the tour, you’d decided to dress up a bit more, more specifically wearing the new bra he’d bought you in the last city.
your top was cut low, dangerously low, and the lace of the bra peeked out from the fabric of the top.
and when joe saw you in the reflection of the vanity mirror, the first thing he did was take your chest in his hands.
“fuck baby”
“does this look alright?”
“alright?! i think you’ve killed me”
he pushed his face into your neck, smelling the expensive perfume you’ve just drowned yourself in as his hands work on your boobs.
“joe”
“mm”
“we’ve gotta go”
“don’t wanna go anymore”
you laugh and shake your head, pushing him off you and standing up. he whines like child having their favourite toy taken away pouting down at you.
“cmon it’s your last show”
taking his hand, you drag him out to the door of your hotel room. he quickly catches up with you, embracing you from behind, accidentally brushing over your chest.
“joe you gotta behave yourself”
“i am”
“debatable”
once you met up with everyone else, joes band, some friends and some crew, joe did let up a bit, letting go of your chest and resorting to politely staring.
with the distraction of everyone else, joe was able to pull his attention away from you enough to engage in a conversation like a regular human being.
on the way to the venue his eyes kept darting over every now and then, fingers twitching by his sides, desperate to touch you.
before the show he’d managed to get you alone in his dressing room. you sat on the side as he stood between your legs, his face perfectly inline with your chest.
you were trying to converse like normal, pretending not to notice the starving look in his eyes.
“and then adam said-“
“babyyyy just one taste- let me in there please”
he was staring right down your cleavage, brows furrowed in a devastatingly desperate expression.
“seriously? you’re insane”
“no you’re inane- look at them”
“mm how long do you have?”
he looked up with glistening eyes, so close to being granted permission to get what he wanted.
“like 40 minutes”
“thats a decent amount of time i guess” you dragged out
“and no one will come in- i- yeah ill lock the door”
he ran off the the door behind him, frantically turning the lock and checking it wont open. watching fondly, your cheeks blushed at his eagerness.
in an instant he was back on you, kissing your lips briefly before going back to your chest, pushing his face in.
“careful joe, remember what i said”
“so good” he groaned into your cleavage.
his lips attacked over the swell of your boobs, kissing and sucking small hickeys into the skin that everyone will be sure to tease you over in an hour.
“mm joe” you breathed out heavily.
his hands fiddled at the hem of your top, pulling it up over your boobs. breaking off you he stared at the bra, not having seen it on you yet.
“jesus christ”
ridding yourself of your own top, as he’d gotten distracted, you ran your hands through joes hair, pulling him back into your chest.
his tongue licked over the lace fabric, just close enough to your nipple to send a shock through your body.
pulling the lace cups down, your tits fell out onto joes face, in which he moaned at the sight.
the cold air and fabric brushing over your nipples made them peak instantly in which joe laughed under his breath, thumbs brushing over them.
“see that, they’re looking for me”
rolling your eyes, you laugh, cut off by a moan when his lips attach around the sensitive bud.
“fuck- joe-“
his hand kneaded your tit, pinching and rolling the nipple that wasn’t getting attention.
swapping over, he enveloped your other nipple in his hot, wet mouth, sucking harshly and grazing his teeth.
“aah joe- fuck”
“hmm?”
“need you- need you so bad”
he pulled off your tit with a wet pop sound, as you grabbed his head and kissed his lips. your ass ended up in his hands, lifting you off the side, wrapping your legs around his waist.
sitting down onto the couch, joe kept you on his lap, straddling his hips. taking his mouth off your lips, he latched back onto your boobs, sucking and biting with desperate attention.
your hands were settled on his shoulders, keeping you balanced as his hands worked on undoing his jeans and pulling your skirt up.
without removing himself from your tits joe pulled your panties aside and slid into you effortlessly. you threw your head back at the stretch, arching your back and pushing you chest further into him.
if you weren’t so caught up in the sensation of his cock dragging against your walls, you’d be concerned about joes safety, but he seemed pretty content being suffocated by your tits anyway.
you hips ground into his, each time he bucked up to meet your halfway forced a moan out of the both of you, his muffled by your skin.
“joe- fuck”
“i love you baby- so good- fuck don’t stop”
your movements grew frantic, desperately chasing that familiar warmth already rushing through your veins.
joes stimulation on your sensitive nipples was pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
you pulled on joes hair, forcing him to come up for air which was quickly taken away when you kissed his puffy lips.
“gonna cum- fuck”
his hands replaced his mouth on your tits, fingers pulling and pinching your red and swollen, shiny peaks.
with a loud cry into joes mouth you came undone on top of him, walls pulsating around his cock, pushing him over the edge.
you collapsed onto joes chest, face tucked into his neck as you both came down from your highs.
“i think you should get a different top for tonight” he whispered after a moment of silence.
“huh? why”
“cuz the second you put it on im gonna get hard and i’ve gotta go on stage in 10 minutes”
you laughed breathlessly at his comment, at the pure honesty of it.
“well then maybe i wont put it back on at all, just stay in my bra the whole time”
“oh fuck don’t say that”
you laughed harder as you felt his cock twitch at the idea, still just inside of you as his arms kept you locked in place, your boobs pressed up to his chest
a knock on the door made you both jump, pulling you out of this blissful haze you’d created
“well- guess we gotta go”
“yeah- do try not to get hard on stage”
“no promises”
before you left the room, you made sure that your boobs looked undeniably tempting, shamelessly showing off all of the marks that joe had just given you.
and as he stepped on stage he cursed himself for giving you them, because now he was on stage, painfully hard.
not being able to take his eyes off you and the way the light highlighted each mark and each curve, he prayed for the show to go quick, so he could get you back in the dressing room and devour you all over again.
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