it's a match!
mini series, in which you experience five different dates with Steve Harrington • online dating app AU •
date two: the cyber tension
navigation • previous chapter • next chapter
summary: you never believed in the magic of dating apps, but what happens when the algorithm introduces you to a particularly attractive man, who also has a great personality...and other fine qualities?
content warnings: fem!reader, no y/n used, sexual themes: detailed talks of sex, dirty talk, more dom!steve, male and female masturbation, phone sex. both steve and reader are anxious and need reassurance (they've been hurt in relationships, okay?). use of pet names.
a/n: so sorry for the delay! been real busy with work:(
Your room was sage green after all.
It was between that or the light blue Steve suggested, but you ended up going with your initial choice.
"It looks great." his voice echoed through the speaker as you pointed your phone at the freshly painted walls.
"Right? So much better than bare white."
"You'd hate my house then." he laughed, moving his camera around so you'd see his surroundings a little bit better.
Yep. Just white walls, though he had some artwork hanging around.
"Well, we have to change that!" you smiled, heading to your couch. "Hit me up...well, almost anytime."
The living room was your main space now, your bedroom completely stripped of furniture as you started the "makeover" you've been planning for so long.
"You wanna paint mines too?" he asked with a smirk. "All that labor for free?"
You rolled your eyes, though it wasn't in annoyance, your own lips curling up.
"I'll think of some payment methods."
You didn't really register what implications your words might've carried—not until Steve huffed a small laugh, his cheeks reddening slightly.
Your eyes widened, words tumbling out of your mouth quickly.
"I didn't mean like– like I'm not saying you have to do something–"
"I'll be happy to oblige with whatever you pick."
Your mouth closed, whole body burning under embarrassment, but also at his words.
Was he implying something now? Because you sure did take it as that.
"That's...yeah. Sorry, I should think before speaking." you said, smiling awkwardly.
He shrugged, but his cheeks got even more red. "Pretty sure I've said worse things to you already."
Oh, like three days ago when he said he wanted to fuck you? That? You barely even remembered that.
You totally didn't fantasize about it every day since then. No, of course you didn't.
"I didn't completely categorize it as...a bad thing."
Okay, so apparently this conversation turned into some kind of 'confession time'.
"Yeah?" he murmured, his demeanor changing slowly, almost carefully. "Because I've been thinking about–"
Ring. Ring. Ring.
A perpetual, annoying and too familiar sound came from his side.
"So sorry, that's my second phone, for work I mean. I was supposed to talk to my client."
"Oh, of course. I should probably get back to work too."
"I'll text you later, yeah?"
"Yeah."
The call ended, a confusing feeling of disappointment flooding your chest.
What could've happened if that phone call didn't interrupt him?
Oh, you'd find out sooner than you'd expect.
The rest of that day was...intense.
You had a mental breakdown while building your new desk, the screws and other small parts working against you rather than with you.
"Are you fucking kidding me? That thing was not there." you screamed to yourself while examining the mysterious hole in the wood.
The instructions were totally wrong, they had to be.
"Why the fuck is there a piece left?"
Yeah, those illustrations were made by someone on drugs. That's the explanation, because you were doing everything right.
But somehow you did it, and you admired your new piece as it stood in front of your big window, when you heard a notification ping.
Steve: my friends are begging me to go out with them, so it'll be harder to talk tonight.
Steve: but i promise to text back whenever i can.
You sighed, your shoulders slumping with disappointment again. You were looking forward to talking to him after all that hard work—so happy to complain about the stupid furniture instructions.
And also hoped to continue that topic from earlier...
Oh my god, you were acting insane. So what if he didn't have time for you today? Steve was a grown man who had other things to do.
You: have fun with your friends! don't worry about texting
See, that was easy. You didn't lie either—you wanted him to have fun.
But damn, you kinda needed to hear his voice tonight.
It was around midnight.
You were laying in your bath, the hot water relaxing your muscles, when you heard the notification ping again.
You reached for a towel, drying your hands quickly before unlocking your phone.
Steve: is it weird that i miss you?
Steve: because i do.
You smiled, heat slowly blooming in your chest. It was a long time since someone said those words to you, and you had to admit...it felt really nice.
You: why would it be weird?
Steve: i don't want to be too much for you.
You typed a reply and deleted it within seconds. You tried again, but the message didn't seem right—your words felt empty like that.
So you decided against messaging.
You: are you back home?
Steve: just got out the cab, why?
Your fingers moved quickly, dialing his number and waiting—one beep...two be–
"Hello?"
"Hi." you smiled instantly just at his voice. "How was your evening?"
"Uhh...It was nice, real loud though." you could hear the "ding" of an elevator in the background as he talked. "Robin had a lot to drink, so she got even more wild than usual."
"She sounds fun."
"Yeah, she is."
You could hear him take out his keys, unlocking the door and coming inside of his apartment.
"I wanted to call you as soon as I went out of that bar." he admitted. "Thought you'd already be sleeping, that's why I texted instead."
"Why do you think you're "too much" for me?"
He sighed, and you could practically see him pacing around his room. "I just think we have something really great here, and I don't want to fuck it up by being too clingy or...or too..."
"Too what?"
"Too much into you."
Your whole body got warmer, and you knew that you couldn't blame that on the hot water of your bath. You could hear Steve faintly breathing, like he was just nervously waiting for your response.
But you didn't say anything for a while, so he continued.
"You've been the only one on my mind since we started talking, the only one I want to talk to...You convince me that this whole thing can work, but...I want to be sure that we're on the same page."
Maybe he was letting his insecurities talk, but he wanted you to say it—to admit out loud that these feelings were mutual, that he wasn't going crazy.
You knew that, because you've felt like this many times before.
And he definitely wasn't crazy.
"I like you too, Steve." you admitted, your voice growing softer. "Very much so."
He breathed in relief, though his rambling didn't stop there.
"And you don't think that me being so straightforward is...weird? Because I can take it, you can tell me that I crossed the line. I know I did, many times already."
You laughed a little, confused at his words. "What are you even talking about?"
"The things I say to you. About...like on our first date, that was totally uncalled for...or when I said that–"
Finally realizing what he meant—with the memories fresh in your mind—you interrupted him, growing bolder with every second.
"And I like that. I wanted you to do those things."
There was a beat of silence on his side now, and you wondered if maybe you read the situation wrong now.
"What?" he finally answered, though it didn't sound like he was offended in any way.
"Steve, you're into me, and I'm into you too." you tried to keep your composure, taking lead in the situation. "We're adults, we're allowed to be turned on by each other, you know?"
And it was his turn to laugh now, a moment that eased the mood, relief washing over the both of you.
"Yeah, seems like I needed that spelled out in front of me." he finally said, smile evident in his tone.
"We're on the same page now?" you asked, smiling too.
"Totally."
"Well...then maybe we could go back to–"
"Yeah, I should like, speak my truth..." he interrupted you, knowing what you were about to say. "I've been turned on by you more times than I'd like to admit."
Your thighs clenched together absentmindedly, a choked breath leaving your throat.
"Wait. How...How much did you drink?" you asked, suddenly remembering that he just got back from a bar.
Maybe he was drunk, that's why he's been–
"One beer, like two hours ago."
"Oh..."
"You don't like drinking? Because I'm fine with stopping if you don't feel comfortable with it."
"What? That's not what I–"
"Then why did you react like that?"
You went quiet, your mouth suddenly watering at the thoughts that flashed in your head.
Don't tell him, don't tell him, don't fucking tell him.
"I've touched myself thinking about you."
The silence that formed on the line lasted...Okay, like five seconds, but to be fair, it felt like the longest five seconds of your life.
"You did?" he said almost in a whisper, and his reaction was even harder to decipher now—not only you couldn't see him, but his tone wasn't telling anything too.
Just shut up, pretend it was a joke or something. Why would you even admit–
"Yeah. A few times now."
Well, fuck.
You could hear faint rustling on his side, paired with a sharp intake of air. He then breathed it out, slowly, just like he was trying to calm himself down.
"That's so fucking hot."
It was all he said, and you couldn't help but whimper softly, bending your legs as you sat upright against the cool porcelain—knees higher, thighs closer to you now—the water sloshing around your body.
He heard it, of course he did.
"Are you taking a bath?"
"Yeah..." you answered, trying to calm down your stupid imagination.
"Good. Touch yourself for me then."
It was like you couldn't control yourself—you moaned quietly, your thighs fully clenching together.
But you didn't give in so easily, not yet at least.
"I'm not gonna do that on the call."
"Why not? You can't let me have that little piece of performance?"
"It's...embarrassing." you said, suddenly shy like you didn't start that topic on purpose.
"So I can only accompany you in your head, not in real life?" he asked amused, obviously playing with you.
"You know that's not–"
"I've touched myself thinking about you too."
Oh my fucking god.
"And I can do it now. Here, with you."
You breathed out, his name slipping out of your lips weakly—like you wanted to protest but just couldn't, like your body didn't let you.
"Say my name all you want, baby. Just please let me hear it while you play with yourself."
And that did it for you.
Your fingers found your nipple—already hard and wet from the bath—and squeezed, making you gasp at the much needed sensation.
You heard the faint clatter of his belt, and you swore you got even more turned on by the vision in your head.
You could see it, the way he was sitting there—pants undone, boxers taken off just enough to let his cock free, all hard and leaking with his hand wrapped around it.
"Are you–" you started, but the moan that cut you off was an answer in itself.
"I am...fuck...I'm already so hard for you."
"Steve..."
"Come on, baby. Tell me what you're doing now."
You gasped for air again, your fingers leaving from their previous place and sinking into your entrance now.
"I just...I'm fingering myself." you managed to say, your voice soft and breathy.
"Yeah? How many?" he asked, the filthy sounds of his hand sliding across his dick growing louder behind his words. "Tell me, baby."
"O-one, just one." you whispered, biting on your lip to catch the moans that were threatening to escape.
"You can add another one." he encouraged teasingly. "Come on, you gotta stretch her for me."
You couldn't remember the last time you were this turned on by a guy, and he wasn't even there with you. His words were just doing it for you, he was perfect for you.
"Stevie..." you moaned helplessly, speeding up your movements as you added the second finger.
"Yeah, just like that." he praised you, not trying to contain his own sounds.
"What were you thinking about when you touched yourself?" you asked, this whole thing making you bolder now.
"You, just you." he answered breathlessly. "I thought about eating you out as you look down at me...fucking gorgeous..."
"Oh fuck." you sped up your movements even more, adjusting your thumb just enough for it to touch your clit, adding more pleasure to the mix.
"I thought about you riding me...about my cock sliding in and out of your pussy...Fuck, I know it's perfect, I just know it."
"I'm so close." you admitted, your thighs shaking under the sensation. "Keep talking, please."
"Thought about taking you from the back, playing with your nipples as I pound into this wet pussy...fuck, I'm–"
And it was like a shockwave—bliss flowing through your whole body, back arching, eyes rolling back as you moaned his name, the sound of it familiar on your tongue now.
Steve was just as ruined as you—your name falling from his lips over and over again, until his hand and stomach were painted in cum, not fully catching the evidence of what he just did.
It was quiet then—only breathing heard on the line, both his and yours.
And to be honest, you didn't really know what you could say. It's not like you had much experience with phone sex, and especially not one as good as with Steve.
"That was fucking great...I mean, wow. You're incredible." he said finally, a smile heard in his tone.
"Really?" you asked, suddenly becoming shy again.
You just had an orgasm on a line with him, get a grip, please.
"Yes. You just made my night, honestly." he laughed. "Even if we didn't do this...just talking to you would've made my night."
You smiled, feeling that warmth spreading behind your ribs again. He was so fucking sweet.
"Glad I could help then. Now...I have to get out of water before I become all wrinkly."
"You probably already are."
You laughed, looking at the tips of your fingers. "Yeah. I totally am."
"Call you back when you get all comfy in bed?" Steve asked, hopefulness obvious in his question.
"No, don't hang up. Let's just put each other on speaker, we can get ready to bed and still talk, yeah?"
And that beat of silence before he agreed to your idea didn't make you worried, didn't make you feel anxious this time.
Because you knew that he was just trying to compose his feelings—same as you did many times.
"So, tell me more about that bar. Where did you even go?"
Hours later, you were falling asleep on the line with him—soft, steady breathing caused by the soothing sound of his voice.
Safe to say, both of you got to work late that day.
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