Always The Goddamn Babysitter
Steve Harrington x (Young!)Milf!Reader
Warnings: smut!!! babysitter!Steve, young mom reader, p in v, lactation kink…, cowgirl; Steve is whipped for both mom & baby girl; Henderson!reader; unprotected sex; this is a little dirty maybe; pullout method; reader is afab; no timeline given; mostly sex <3
Description: Steve gets roped into babysitting Dustin’s hot older sister’s baby. Things take a turn when she gets back and the baby’s asleep.
Every time, Steve Harrington gets dragged into looking after somebody else’s kids.
And every time, it was Dustin Henderson’s fault.
Steve had been brought along by him for yet another thing, only to end up responsible for a seven-month-old baby.
You may be wondering how he got stuck looking after such a young child.
Well, it wasn’t entirely Dustin’s fault.
Steve had been at Dustin’s house, when you, Dustin’s older sister showed up. Apparently, you were living elsewhere for a time, when you came back to town very recently.
He recognized you from school, vaguely. You were a couple years older, and got knocked up by some jackass a little over a year ago—the only people you told were your family and friend Kayley.
So, while Dustin was prattling off about some theory, he stopped when he saw you—hair slightly wild, in shorts and a t-shirt, baby propped on your hip in a pink onesie.
Steve did not expect Dustin’s sister to be so… well, hot. He hardly noticed you in school because of your age, but, now that you were both grown, it wasn’t that big of a difference.
Now how did this lead to him babysitting your daughter?
You’d greeted Dustin, asking who that strange man hanging out with your little brother was—wow—and Dustin had introduced you.
When you mentioned needing a sitter for Harper so you could get some stuff for her while you’re getting situated in your new rental, Dustin had the bright idea to volunteer Steve.
You were reluctant, obviously, but managed to be convinced—after all, he’d looked after your dear little brother and his friends so nicely?
And your friend was busy, and your mom was out, and you couldn’t leave your baby with Dustin… Hell no.
If he watched kids they’d probably love him. But that didn’t mean he’d be responsible, and your daughter wasn’t even one.
Still, you had reservations, but agreed—even as Steve himself hadn’t agreed to this . . . Not that you realised that.
Stupidly, when you did ask if he would be okay with watching Harper for a little while, he said “Y-yeah, totally…” and was now playing babysitter once again.
It took multiple hours for you to get everything you deemed you needed, and in that time Steve was spat up on, peed on, etc.
Harper really was adorable though, and when he finally got her to stop wailing at him, after warming a bottle of… your breast milk, and giving it to her, she was a complete angel.
Unfortunate that it took almost the entirety of your trip to get her to that point, but he was still proud of himself that he got her calm before her mommy came back, having to see her child screaming at the “strange man” who hangs out with her kid brother.
Only after she finished her milk, spitting up again (this time on a cloth, as he realised that’s what parents use those for) did she fall asleep, dozing in Steve’s big arms and cooing like the sweetest thing ever made.
She’d already been laid in her crib when you came home, carrying handfuls of shopping bags.
Steve got off the couch, taking some from you to bring them to the kitchen. You told him he didn’t have to, but he helped you put stuff away anyway.
“Was she okay…?” you ask, stuffing boxed noodles in a cabinet. Steve puts away milk.
“Yeah—she was—wonderful.”
Not looking convinced, you turn to look at him, biting your lip in a way that sends many inappropriate thoughts through him.
“Absolutely! She was great. Perfect. Wonderful.”
Continuing to put away groceries quietly—and peeking your ass while you’re turned away—Steve thinks about what to say to you.
Without sounding like an idiot.
“I, um, don’t really have much… This was all bought with coupons,” you glance at the bags, “but.”
He watches you pull out a folded twenty, stuffing it in his hand without his consent, then digging in your shorts’ pocket, presumably for extra bills or change.
“That’s not, uh, necessary,” he says, trying to give you back your money.
Shaking your head, you back away, bringing a container of blueberries to the fridge. “I don’t need charity; thank you.”
Finding a random space for peanut butter, he replies, “It’s not charity. Think of it as helping out a friend…”
Giving him a distrusting look, you snatch up all the paper bags and stuff them in the pantry.
Without a word, you disappear to the nursery to check on Harper, then return a moment later.
You murmur “Thank you,” folding your arms over your chest and staring at Steve.
Swallowing, he tries to stop oggling you, finding his voice to tell you it’s not a problem.
He should probably leave now. He’s done the job, and probably made a fool of himself, but god he doesn’t wanna go.
You don’t back away, or tell him off when he comes closer instead.
Typically, he’d just kiss you, see how you respond; but, he doesn’t want to creep you out or mess up another attempt with someone.
Unused to being so direct with a woman, he’s relieved when you don’t immediately reject him—when you smile, a bit haughtily, moving your hands to your hips.
“You know that’s not another option to payment, right?”
Your tone is harsher than your expression, but when he looks startled, opening his mouth to offer a plethora of apologies and explanations, you grab him gently by his face, bringing his mouth to yours.
He’s too stunned to react at first, then he processes, responding eagerly to your lips.
Your tongue prods his mouth, and he nearly melts.
Pressing himself closer, he grabs you back, swiping his tongue against yours.
It could be seconds, or minutes before you pull away, murmuring a needy little “On the couch” then trailing your hands up and down Steve’s upper half as you two go to the sofa.
You push him to sit down once you get there, palms now holding his shoulders until you’re situated on his lap.
Lowering his hands to your waist, he tugs your hips flush to his, cushioning his already-hard cock between your bodies, through his jeans.
Unzipping your jacket, you reconnect your guys’ lips, both now moist with your previous kissing.
And his are so soft, and when you nibble his bottom lip he feels up your ass, squeezing you through the denim of your shorts.
Your fingertips graze his abdomen, slipping up his sweatshirt. As your hands trail up, you push the material off his body, discarding it in little time to toss somewhere in the room.
In his left hand, Steve encourages your hips to grind on his lap, and with his right, he brings it to your head, continuing and deepening the kiss.
Your hips roll on their own, stimulating each of you by the movement of your clothed cunt over his confined dick.
“Fuck,” you rasp, pulling back and pressing your lips to his jaw, sucking lightly across his skin.
Letting out a breathy gasp, Steve lets you handle the dry humping, and lavish his neck in kisses, putting his right hand up your t-shirt.
You hold his nape with one hand, playing with his pretty locks, and grab his hand in your other, planting it on your bra’d tit.
Open-mouth kissing his pulse point, you slow your hips, but press them firmer, making him let out a soft moan.
Steve abandons fondling your bra, to slip both his hands up your back and undo its clasp.
It’s not the sexiest thing ever, and it’s definitely manufactured for breastfeeding moms, but that only serves to put different thoughts in his head.
And Christ are your tits full. He’s practically salivating as he touches them, swirling his thumbs around your nipples in tandem.
You whimper, and abandon sucking his collarbone to bring your mouth back to his.
He pulls away only long enough to shove your shirt off, eyeing your upper body with intensity before you’re making out again.
As a mother, and a relatively new one (even if it’s a natural routine by now), your body isn’t quite what it was in high school, for a multitude of reasons.
Additionally, you haven’t been with a guy in a while, and certainly not since you had your daughter.
But while you’re not entirely confident in your figure and stretch marks and milky breasts, Steve is feral.
As soon as you two separate, he’s kissing your upper chest, pausing only to mumble an “Is this okay?” that he desperately hopes you say yes to.
And bless this earth when you do, sliding your crotch against his while he tries not to immediately latch onto your breast.
When he does, fuck is he in heaven. You feel his groan and grip his thick hair, moaning softly while he licks your nipple.
It’s almost unconscious the way he sucks, inadvertently snapping your reflexes to produce that nectar, slipping onto his tongue.
With a gasp, you look down and watch him—his hooded, slowly closing eyes, and the constant little moaning he’s doing as he tastes your milk.
You’re busy humping him when he puts his right hand at the band of your shorts, blindly finding your shorts’ zipper and opening the fly to stuff his hand inside.
You’ve never been so worked up, you think, as Steve’s fingers rub you over your panties.
Fuck. You hadn’t realised how wet you’d become until his thick fingers pressed upon your clit, fabric sticking to your labia.
Switching to your other breast, he lavishes your areola, drinking up the milky substance once your nipple releases it.
Slipping beneath your underwear, he rubs rings around your pearl, and you’re getting so horny you can hardly believe it.
His eyes snap open as he detaches from your nipple, pulling back and looking at you with concern. His hands stop absently rubbing your bare waist.
“Do you have a condom?” you ask, palms splayed on Steve’s naked chest.
You hear him mutter a small “fuck,” looking sheepish and frustrated with himself.
“No… I can—crap, I can pull out?”
Well that’s not the wisest idea ever had, but you’re too soaked to stop and get protection.
You two are kissing again, and you taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue.
While keeping your mouths close, you back up off his lap, standing long enough to slip your shorts and underwear off.
Steve moans against your lips as you undo his jeans, tugging them and his boxers down his thighs, and leaving them somewhere on the floor.
His hands grab your hips, pulling you back onto his lap and bringing your body close to his.
“Mmm,” you disconnect your lips, looking down at his cock as you grasp it in a single hand, lifting yourself to hover over his tip.
Head dipping back, he tries to bite back his moan as you tease your opening around the end, slowly pressing down on it to let your pussy swallow him.
You watch his reaction as he shuts his eyes, mouth falling open while you take a little at a time, lowering as long as it doesn’t hurt much.
It’s good you’re wet as fuck, because it helps dull any natural sting, and Steve in particular is big.
“Holy shit…” You grab his shoulder, hips slowly coming flush with his, feeling his balls beneath your ass cheeks.
Steve honestly looks out of it. Not until you softly pat his cheek does he open his eyes, looking at you like he’s in a daze, blissfully fucked out before you’ve even done more than take him.
He flushes, searching for words he can’t find. You smile, using the support of his shoulder to lift off his cock, partway, dragging your walls up and then back down.
Laughing softly, you peck the corner of his mouth, but before you can pull away, he’s kissing you, deep and long as you ride him.
You angle so your clit brushes him each time you take him to the base.
His hands start helping you, bringing your hips up, then down, warm inner walls cascading over his massive length.
“Fuck, you’re so good,” he babbles, spit glossing on his pretty lips.
He groans, pornographic, and his mouth encloses on your pert nipple, sucking for that readily accessible milk he tasted earlier.
Humming a pleasured moan, you prop an elbow on his shoulder, playing with his hair again while the rise and fall of your hips creates a slapping sound throughout the small room.
As Steve drinks your creamy nectar, he thrusts up into you, making you gasp and tip your head back, working in unison with him to fill your cunt with his thick cock.
“Fuck, baby, keep going.”
You think he might be trying to get your whole tit in his mouth—actually, it’s hard and useless to think at all; you just want his dick, his mouth, tongue, hands.
He groans around your breast, breath huffing against your chest from his nose, and when his teeth grace your nipple, and you whimper, he runs a hand along your side in apology, licking across the bud gently.
“I’m close,” you cry. His tip slides back and forth on that one special spot every time he enters and leaves, reentering right after.
For extra stimulation, you slip a hand between your thighs, frigging your clit hard and fast as your other hand tightens in his hair, unconsciously pulling it.
Your orgasm is intense, and your toes curl, real, audible moans leaving your kiss-swollen lips as he pummels your poor hole.
Rather reluctantly, Steve pulls off your tit quickly, forcing your cunt off his cock before he shoots his load on his stomach, and a little on your thighs.
You don’t give a fuck about the mess as you slump forward on his bare body, panting with your face by his neck.
His fingers find and sort through your hair gently, until he tugs a knot and retrieves his hand quickly when you tense.
You’re not moving—yet, at least—and Steve realises quickly that you’re just snuggling him, and probably a bit tired after the fucking.
So, he wraps his arms around you, large hand rubbing your lower back idly.
He presses his face into your hair, nose nuzzling the strands until they tickle him.
When you two do finally untangle, you slip off to your bedroom and Steve wonders if he should go before you come back in pajama bottoms and a top (obviously braless, much to his oversensitive cock’s ache), smiling a little awkwardly at him.
“Do you wanna have dinner, some night?”
You blink, momentarily surprised before the smile widens, simultaneously appearing softer.
“I’d love to…” you admit.
Once again, he does like you and smiles larger.
“Okay—wow… Okay. So… Friday?”
Your tiny giggle is like music to his ears.
A lot like your moans were.
“Sure. I’ll get my friend Kayley to sit Harper.”
Christ—he nearly forgot how this evening started.
“Perfect.” Before he can make a move himself, or gather the rest of his shit to leave (really just his shoes and shirt), you come over and kiss him on the cheek.
“Perfect,” you parrot, pulling away with a sweet smile.
“O-okay, well . . . bye,” Steve says, grinning gently as he gives you a small wave, picking up his clothes, and keys, and checking that his wallet is in his pocket.
“Bye, Steve,” you return, waving with a cheeky little smile.
He’s got his shoes on, and his brain scrambled, and his thoughts full of you, and—wow.
Maybe being the babysitter isn’t the worst thing.
Hi. Hope this was good 💀 My Steve hunger is insatiable rn. GAWDDDD.
This isn’t really canon compliant but I don’t gaf 😔
Okay. Love y’all, buhbyeeee
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