hai girl I just wanted to lyk i literally barely listen to the 1975 anymore, fell out of the fandom probably a little over a year ago, into new things now, but i STILL come back every few months to re read through teenage dream master list. It’s literally my fav ever <33
Hii!! Oh that’s so so sweet :( thank you for letting me know <3 Really, it’s such a dream to know that anything I’ve written is someone’s favorite. Very happy to have you back every few months!
Thank you!!! Truly, it’s so nice to hear things like this ❤️❤️❤️
To be totally 100% honest, I don’t want to disappoint anyone, but I can’t deny that I haven’t been feeling the inspiration for some time now </3. I have some other works on a different account I’ve been writing on (@oh-sweet-thing ) but it’s not for Matty/The 1975.
I don’t foresee myself writing any larger works in the near future, but I have a few asks in the inbox that I could turn into blurbs when I find the time! All of my Matty works still have a place in my heart ofc, and 75blr is so special. Love the people most of all!
I can’t promise to be as active as I used to be, but I’d be happy to pop in and post something on the from my requests when I can :) <3
I can offer you this little snippet as a treat, perhaps. I've been very... very slowly putting it together. (Unedited, apologies)
You stared at your phone as it sat in front of you on your bed, waiting for the moment when it would buzz to life with a phone call. It continues to sit silently on your rumpled sheets, no matter how hard you willed it to ring. You’d been waiting for what felt like hours, cross-legged and impatient for your boyfriend to phone you as he’d promised.
Every Summer holiday, Matty went to stay with his extended family for a week, leaving the town of Wilmslow behind… which also meant leaving you behind. It was a long, tearful goodbye when he left. He’d dragged out the process of packing his suitcase as long as he possibly could while you sat in his room and watched him trudge about, shoving things in his bag and complaining about all the fun he’s going to miss out on while he’s gone.
“So not fair…” he’d muttered, holding your hand while haphazardly zippering his suitcase closed.
You couldn’t deny that you felt his absence. You were definitely being dramatic, but the town felt much emptier without him, which you’ve griped about endlessly in your nightly journals. This week will be the longest you’ve gone without seeing him since you started dating, and, to be honest, you two were practically inseparable at this point. Attached at the hip inside and outside of school. How could you possibly survive? You were already counting down the days. His return date was marked on your calendar in brightly colored Sharpie.
Your strings of melancholic thoughts were cut off at the sound of your phone ringing, the sound making your head snap up like you’d been jolted awake from a bad dream. You scramble to reach for the device, picking it up on the second ring without bothering to check the caller ID. You knew who it was.
“Hello?” you answer, clutching the phone to the side of your face with far too much force.
“Hi, babe.”
You feel a flood of relief at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, a smile spreading across your face as you melt back onto your heels. Your breath catches in your chest in a way that makes it hard to speak.
“Hi. How’s it going?” you ask, trying not to sound too giddy to be talking to him.
“Honestly… it’s boring as fuck already,” Matty admits flatly.
You can hear the tiredness in his voice. You can picture him, lying back on the bed with his arm strewn lazily over his forehead, exhausted by his colorful family and their endless questions. He’s probably trying not to think about how long he’s stuck there for.
“Already? Isn’t vacation supposed to be fun?”
Matty sighs deeply over the phone, like you just didn’t get it.
“Yeah, well, fun would be getting to knock around with my mates and my girl all summer. Not stuck here with family I hardly know.”
“I’m sure it won’t be absolutely miserable the whole time. You’re near the ocean at least,” you point out, toying with a loose thread on your blanket.
All you get in response is a noncommittal hum. He’s not going to try to enjoy himself, and you both know it. He was stubborn like that. There are a few moments of silence where you just listen to the sound of his breathing, rehearsing what you were about to say in your head. It wasn’t that you were afraid of saying it; you just didn’t want to sound so needy.
“I miss you already,” you admit, staring up at the ceiling.
Your worries of being “too much” instantly vanish at the sound of longing laced within his sigh. Maybe he was just as tangled up in wishing you weren’t being kept apart. Every minute, you kept coming up with more ideas for things you wanted to do together the second he was back home.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, “I miss you too.”
Suddenly, you remember something.
“What was the thing you were going to tell me? About your mum?” you ask curiously.
“Oh, right. That,” he says, clearing his throat, “So, I was in the kitchen just making my breakfast, right?”
“Mhm.”
“And all of a sudden, my mum is cornering me, talking about how she’s found my condoms! And I’m like ‘Jesus Christ, woman’. It’s 8 in the morning, talking to me about condoms.”
You feel your stomach drop to your feet at the word “condoms”, sitting up straight in your bed. Your fingers tighten around the phone as you picture Matty’s mum’s face when she discovered them in his room. It certainly didn’t help that her son chose the 50-pack of condoms of all the sizes to pick from.
“Oh my god. Please tell me you’re joking,” you beg, your face getting increasingly warmer as he speaks.
“Not joking. Wish I was, really,” Matty chuckles on the other end, “You know, I thought she was gonna have a fit, but she just told me to be careful and all that.”
“Jesus. I’m never going to be able to look her in the eyes again, I can’t ever come over for dinner again either,” you sputter, giggling even though you’re simply mortified that his mum knows what you’ve been up to. Matty seems far too relaxed about the whole thing. In fact, he’s just laughing at your panic.
"Relax. It's not that big of a deal. She's not angry, she knows we're being careful and not gonna end up teen parents," he says plainly, "And she already loves you, probably more than she loves me, to be honest.”
You whine, flopping onto your stomach as you imagine what it’s going to be like to see his mother again, even if she does love you more than her own child. So not cool.
“But she knowsss,” you groan childishly. You can practically hear Matty grinning on the other end.
“Yesss, she knowsss,” Matty mocks playfully, mimicking your tone, “She doesn’t care, babe. Plus…”
He pauses, his voice changing a bit, dropping lower as his words become more sincere. Your ears prick up slightly at the shift, recognizing when he’s not just messing around anymore.
“Plus... She knows I'm, like, really serious about you and stuff. And she's okay with that, too."
“Really? You told her that?” you say softly, unable to help but sound touched. It was one thing to hear it from Matty, but his telling his mum how he felt about you was different… it was serious. Grown up.
“Yeah, y’know, I wanted to make it clear that we’re in love. That, uh, I’m really in love with you. That we’re not just messing about together, I suppose.”
He takes a deep inhale, his breath shuddering slightly as he begins to ramble, likely gesturing a bunch with his hands. His voice becomes increasingly choked and strained as he speaks.
“I wanted her to know. ‘Cause you’re important to me. You do know that, right? That you’re important? And I’m gonna keep you around a long time?”
He tries his best in emotional moments like this. You know it feels safer for him to hide behind humor or feigned disinterest rather than express himself. But, for you, he tries, and you’d never fault him for that. You only want to see him grow more comfortable with talking about what he feels, saying it out loud instead of keeping it all close to his chest.
“Matty. I know,” you smile, your heart feeling full.
“Yeah, okay. That’s good,” he says, shifting around on his bed with his phone in hand.
Poor thing, he sounded so nervous to say it. You were willing to spare him by changing the subject, but not before one more thing:
“Love you.”
Matty chuckles breathily. You can picture him running a hand through his unruly hair with a smile that adorably crinkles his eyes at the corners.
“Love you too, babe,” he murmurs.
You end up talking and laughing together until the moon hangs big and bright in the sky, along with the summer fireflies outside your window. Loud chatter became hushed conversation and stifled giggles, trying not to be overheard by anyone still awake in your houses. You were curled up under the covers, the only light in your room coming from the seashell nightlight that painted your wall a warm shade of gold. It used to protect you from the dark as a child, your companion that you couldn’t sleep without. Now, it was just a part of your room. An old, reliable friend.
Matty does most of the talking, but you don’t mind. He can manage to make any small story feel extraordinary with the way he speaks. You were completely charmed by every sentence, even when you couldn’t see his highly expressive face. You found it funny when he used unnecessarily big words to sound more intelligent. Sometimes, you could tell when he was trying them for the first time because they sounded slightly unnatural on his tongue. He always had so much going on in his head.
During a comfortable lull of silence, you glance over at your alarm clock to see the time. A number stared back at you that didn’t match how entirely awake you felt right now. Your body felt like it was buzzing from the thrill of being on the phone with your boyfriend so late at night. It was like you two were the only people awake in the whole world.
“So… what would you want to do if I were there?” you ask, trying to suppress the giddy feelings that were already bubbling up in anticipation of his answer.
“If you were here?” he muses thoughtfully. He pauses like he wanted to come up with something creative to say, but could only think about one thing. “Probably kiss you a lot, for starters.”
You knew that answer was coming, but it still makes your skin feel tingly under the covers. You feign surprise at his one-track mind.
“Oh yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” he echoes teasingly, “I’d probably never stop kissing you. Like, till neither of us could breathe.”
“Sounds dangerous,” you smile, an amused lilt to your voice as you picture the two of you kissing until you’re almost passing out.
“Yeah, well. I’d rather nearly die from a lack of oxygen than go without touching you for a whole week, to be fair,” he says stubbornly.
You shake your head at his words, knowing that he’s turning this into some kind of melodrama in his head when he’s only on vacation with his family. He hated not having you at arm's reach, not being able to take your hand in his and toy with the rings on your fingers restlessly at any moment.
“You’re so dramatic.”
“Bite me,” Matty chuckles, his words, on the contrary, holding no bite, “I thought you said you miss me.”
“I do miss you!” you exclaim in a hushed voice.
“Why can’t I fantasize about you then?”
Your breath catches in your throat as he says that. Fantasizing implied so many things. Fantasizing implied picturing things like flushed skin and unbuttoned jeans. You have to force yourself to spit out your next words. They come out shakier than you’d hoped, and you’re sure he could hear your shallow breath through the phone.
“What–what are you fantasizing about?” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut in preparation for imagining it too.
“Erm…” Matty stalls, sounding unprepared to share what he’s picturing, “I wish I could… feel you. Kiss you. Everywhere, really.”
“Everywhere?” you repeat, your voice getting slightly breathier as your cheeks warmed.
“Y-yeah. I wish…”
"What?" you say softly, feeling tingles run through your body at the huskier tone of his voice. You quickly glance at your bedroom door, making sure it's closed, and trying to remember if you’d locked it. Being 90% sure was enough for you right now. You didn’t want to miss a second of this by getting up to check.
“I wish I could touch you,” he whispers.
Your reaction is instant. A wave of warmth crashes under the covers, a tide pulling you into its simmering waves that wash over your skin. You swallow hard at the obvious line that has been crossed, the air feeling thicker in your room as you edge toward uncharted territory together. You’d never talked like this over the phone before, it's new... it's exciting. It has you wide awake.
"I-I... yeah..." you stuttered softly, flustered.
"Are you... in your room, right now?" he asks, his voice gentle, but undeniably laced with a wanton curiosity.
"Mhm,” you responded.
You carefully crossed one leg over the other, just barely squeezing them together at the stirring in the pit of your stomach. You listen as Matty lets out a soft, shaky exhale before daring to imagine you further.
“Alone?” he asks, his voice thickening with desire.
You nod before remembering that he can’t see you, spitting out a quick “yes”. God, you were nervous. And excited. And hot. Too hot. You hastily pushed back the blankets with your feet, shoving them to the edge of your bed so the heat was no longer trapped under your pajamas.
Girlie getting worried about a little hair down there but Teenagedream!matty showing her that he wants her SO bad hair or not
Oh he would noooot care, not even a little bit. He thinks he’s so lucky to get to see her naked in the first place, why the hell would he ever complain about something like hair?
Thinking about her helping him sneak into her bedroom through her window for a surprise late night visit because… well, he missed her, and he was horny. Once they’re both undressed, heated, and trying to somehow be quiet as Matty kisses up her thighs, she’s insisting in a hushed voice that he doesn’t have to go further. And he’s all pouty, like: “why? I want to. Been thinking about it all night :(“. Once she explains that she didn’t shave that night because she wasn’t expecting him, he just narrows his eyes at her and asks if she’s “fucking messing about right now”. She’s not, which makes him even more determined to show her how much he doesn’t give a shit. Of course, he does this by eating her out till she has to physically pull him back by his pulled back hair, scolding him for nearly making her wake up the whole house.
Steve Harrington has a dirty mouth. You figured this out pretty quickly after you’d started dating, discovering the way he’d use what little breath he had between kisses to talk to you, telling you all sorts of things that made your face burn hot. You could think back to so many moments that often replay in your head, memories of touches that were punctuated by whispers of “you like that, don’t you?”, and “does that feel good?”. The answer was always a resounding yes. He was more experienced than you. You knew that. It showed in the confidence with which he handled you, his hands always strong and sure on your body, ready to guide you.
When it was just you, alone in the darkness and sanctity of your own bedroom, it was his voice that you could hear in your head, puppeteering your hands, guiding them down your body. You hear the ghosts of his whispers that lead you into the depths of pleasure when he couldn’t do it for you. Spread your legs. Arch your back. Look at me. Go slow.
Steve enjoyed teaching you new things, not just about what feels good to him, but also what feels good to you. His favorite moments are the ones where he knows he’s doing something right, where he can see your eyes light up as a brand new sensation washes over you. He’ll just smile at you, staring until he’s sure he’s committed that look on your face to memory. But there was one thing he’d tried to teach you that just wouldn’t stick: dirty talk. He knew when you were feeling good, it wasn’t hard to tell from your stifled moans and pinched expression, but you never talked to him. You never told him just what he was doing to you.
After a movie night in his room had turned into a heated makeout, he’d made up his mind. He’d decided that tonight was the night that you’d learn how to be uninhibited, to say whatever was on your mind, to demand it, if that’s what you wanted. Panting above you, half-dressed, Steve teasingly tapped his finger to your temple.
“You never talk when we’re like this. What’s going on in here, hm?” he asks, his gentle eyes flickering over your face.
“You usually do the talking,” you say, grazing your nails down his shoulder and over his collarbones lightly, enjoying the way he shivers in response.
“Yeah, I know,” he says with a sigh, “But I want to hear you more than I want to listen to myself.”
You tilt your head at him, narrowing your eyes skeptically. He responds with an equally curious look, raising an eyebrow at you as he moves down further, his breath warm on your lips.
“What?” he mumbles.
“Nothing. I thought you liked hearing yourself talk,” you smile, reaching to run your fingers through his prize-worthy hair. You’re the only person who’s allowed to move even a lock of it out of place.
Steve rolls his eyes, leaning in to playfully nip the tip of your nose with his teeth in retaliation, making you laugh and push at his chest. He responds by wrapping his arms around you and changing your positioning with a grunt. He guides you to sit on top of him instead, his hands finding purchase at your hips. You liked it up here, looking down at his pretty face. You could see his long eyelashes more clearly.
Rain was pattering lightly on his window, the droplets a quiet background noise to the growing buzz of excitement between you.
“Yeah, maybe I do, but we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you and how you won’t say naughty things to me,” he frowns, almost petulantly.
“Like what?” you ask, reaching to intertwine both of your hands with his.
The affection is written all over his face as he laces his fingers between yours neatly, running his thumbs over your knuckles. You can see that soft glint in his eyes as he ponders the things he wishes would spill from your lips.
“I dunno, dirty stuff. Like, ‘that feels good’, or ‘touch me here’, or– or just, ‘fuck me, Steve’, you know?” he prattles on, waving his hands expressively while they’re still holding onto yours.
You snort lightly, shaking your head as you glance away from his intense, brown eyes. It always came so naturally to him to say seductive things, but for you, you had to force out even the simplest words, praying that your voice wouldn’t break or waver.
“I mean, honestly, would it kill you? Would you die if you said, ‘I want you to fuck me, have sex with me right now, Steven’?” he continues.
“I-I…” you start, trying to fight through the way it feels like the air is getting stuck in the middle of your chest. You still smile despite yourself. “I dunno how to talk like that, Steve. That’s your thing.”
He sighs deeply, pulling one of your hands to his lips to kiss your fingers tenderly, his eyes never straying from yours.
“But I know you can do it,” he murmurs against your knuckles, “I’m serious, tell me something. How about this: start small. Say my name.”
“... Steve,” you respond flatly, not exactly seeing the point of this exercise. Your boyfriend looks thoroughly unimpressed.
“No. Not like that,” he mutters, letting go of one of your hands to lightly trace his fingertips over your side, “Say it like you want something from me. Like… you haven’t seen me in weeks. And then add something. Like, ‘Steve, I want you to…’”
He trails off meaningfully, widening his eyes as he motions for you to take the lead. Oh god. You were already feeling a bit stuck, mentally running through a million different ways you could finish the sentence. And how should you say it? Should you sound out of breath? Is that sexy? Or maybe more sultry, a lower pitch like an actress in a commercial you’d seen. Should you do something with your hands while speaking? Why couldn’t you just say it?
While your brain went a mile a minute, Steve just stared at you expectantly, his brows furrowing as you sat there with your lips parted like you wanted to say something but couldn’t get it out. His voice came out softer than before, more patient.
“Hey, hey. Stop that,” he murmurs, as if he can read exactly what’s going on in your head, “It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just say whatever you’re thinking. Don’t– don’t second-guess yourself like you usually do. You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”
You exhale a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding, nodding slowly as you tried to gather yourself again. Your cheeks burned slightly with embarrassment, wishing you were as silver-tongued as him, wishing you could impress him with quick, smutty quips as he could with you. You felt like hiding. Like pulling the neckline of your sweater up so he couldn’t see your face.
“You think I’m gonna laugh at you, baby? Is that it?” Steve whispers, reaching upwards to cup your flushed cheek in his hand. He visibly softens at that vulnerability in your eyes, thumbing over your plush bottom lip soothingly.
“I dunno. Maybe,” you mumble, instinctively eaning into the hand at the side of your face, “How do you do it? How do you always know what to say?”
“Well, I mean, you want the Harrington secret?” he teases, his eyes glinting under the low lighting of his bedroom.
You nod once, ready to learn the strategy that would turn you into a master dirty talker… only it’s not what you’d expected. His voice lowers into something more sincere, more raw. He was letting you in, hoping you would do the same in return.
“I don’t plan any of it. I say exactly what I’m feeling in the moment. If it’s here,” he pauses, pointing to his head and then his mouth, “It’s here. You know? No filter. I’m thinking… what do I want to say to her that’s going to tell her how beautiful she is? How much I want to be here with her. How turned on I am by her. And then I say it.”
You feel your heart flutter in your chest. It felt like something was clicking for you for the first time. He didn’t want you to be “sexy”. He wanted to know what you were feeling. He wanted to know that you want him too. It wasn’t about saying the right thing. It was about saying the honest thing, letting those physical sensations speak through you.
“I like that,” you whisper, a slightly sheepish smile pulling at your lips. He can’t help but smile back at you twice as brightly, his thumb skimming along your jawline.
“Yeah, I thought you would. Do you… wanna try again? Maybe close your eyes this time.”
It wasn’t a bad idea. Once your eyes fluttered shut, you realized that it wasn’t as scary when you weren’t awaiting some kind of reaction from him. Instead, you could focus solely on what you were feeling, what was going on in your body. What you were craving. Where you were feeling warm…
“Steve,” you breathe. The words didn’t feel as stuck this time, not when his hand was on your cheek and the whole world suddenly felt quiet. The pressure lifted from your chest, allowing you to speak. “I want you to touch me.”
When you open your eyes again, Steve is practically vibrating with excitement, a boyish grin spreading across his face. You feel your cheeks prickle with warmth as he lets out a triumphant laugh, sitting up straight to wrap his arms around you tightly. He draws you as close as he can to him on his lap, beginning to lovingly assault your neck and shoulder with kisses. You can’t help but giggle, enjoying his glee and the ticklish feeling of his lips all over you, anywhere he could reach.
“Yes. Yes. That’s it,” he croons, his lips still against your skin, “God, yes. Keep going, keep talking. I’m listening, baby. Where should I touch you, gorgeous?”
You felt oddly invigorated by this small victory, like the door was open for you to step through now. Your hands slide into his hair, your head lolling back to expose your throat as he continues loving on you. This felt good. Really good.
“My– my tits,” you gasp softly, grasping tighter at his chestnut locks.
His eyes instantly light up with a mixture of pride and arousal at your words. Steve is quick to respond with a groan, so eager to play off of your every word. You could feel how happy he was that you were expressing your wants, both figuratively and through the growing stiffness in his jeans underneath you.
“Fuck yeah, I can touch your tits, sweetheart. Let’s get this off of you,” he whispers, dragging his lips from the base of your neck to just below your ear as he begins to tug your sweater up and over your head.
He nearly completely fumbles unhooking your bra with how fast he’s trying to get it off of you, the two of you sharing a laugh as he flings it across the room carelessly. The way he puts his hands on you, it’s like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole damn life. You moan blissfully as his hands envelop your breasts, his thumbs rubbing over the slowly hardening peaks with practiced ease. He’s so warm, so warm as he leans in to kiss you, stealing the breath from your lungs with just a press of his lips. He groans into your mouth deeply, enjoying the way your nails slide over his scalp as you exchange giddy, breathless kisses. You’re both smiling so much that your teeth bump in the middle of making out, only causing more giggles to erupt between you.
“Feels good?” he asks you, lightly pinching one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
“Yeah,” you pant, nodding vigorously before pulling him into another heated kiss.
Steve lets one hand slide down to restlessly grab onto your hip, beginning to guide your body to rock against his. You let out a soft sound that’s instantly swallowed by his lips as you grind yourself against the bulge in his jeans, the friction making the heat in the room spike what feels like another 10 degrees. He pushes his hips up into you harder, making sure you feel every inch of him strained against the crotch of his pants. God, your heart was absolutely pounding in your chest. He’s all over you in the best possible way.
“Jesus,” he groans huskily, “I’m so fucking hard right now. You feel me?”
“Yeah, baby,” you shudder, the seam of your jeans catching just right against your clit.
“Need you to keep talking, sweet girl,” he whispers, pulling away just enough to speak, to look into your eyes, “What are you feeling?”
“I-I feel…”
A million words rush through your mind. Hot. Free. Horny. In love. Needy. Good. So good. So fucking good.
“Like I want more,” you decide, your voice wavering needily.
“Good. I want more of you, too,” he smiles, cheeks flushed, “Can you tell me exactly what you want more of? Use your words, sweetheart.”
Before you could respond, he was ducking his head down to kiss along your sternum, making your breath catch in your throat. Steve’s eyes, darkened with lust, gazed up into yours as he dragged his lips to one of your nipples, kissing it before gently sucking it into his mouth. You let out a shuddering breath as he began to swirl his talented tongue around the bud, your hand cradling the back of his head to your chest as you continued to throb between your legs. You were getting a bit stuck again, the words just on the tip of your tongue as you panted for breath. You didn’t want to say it out loud, you might just melt all over the bed if you did.
“Shh, you’re alright,” Steve murmurs, pulling his head back gently, “More kissing? More touching?”
“More touching.”
“Mhm. Where?”
You whine quietly, avoiding eye contact until Steve brings a hand to your jaw, gently turning your head so you’re looking at him again. You felt hyperaware of the placement of each of his fingers on your face. He’s patient, waiting for you to spit out a single word that you can manage.
“Lower,” you mumble, your cheeks burning a bright shade of pink.
“Lower?” he echoes, shooting you an amused look, “You can say the word, you know. It’s okay. Just a word.”
“It’s awkward!” you laugh nervously.
“It’s not awkward! You’re making it awkward!” Steve insists, leaning up to try and kiss away your overthinking with a gentle press of his lips to your forehead. “Look at me. You’re doing so good. Just say it, and I’ll have my hand down your panties like that,” he says, emphasizing his point with a snap of his fingers.
While you try and work up the nerve to speak, Steve busies himself with popping the button on your jeans. He’s casually humming a tune that’s stuck in his head as his deft fingers pull down the zipper. The sound of the teeth unzipping makes goosebumps spread across your skin. As soon as you start to recognize the melody, he’s begun singing softly out loud (and off-key) while his hands urge you to lift your hips up.
“You can talk to me, t-t-talk to me.”
“Stevie Nicks?” you note, looking down at him as you sit up onto your knees.
“What? I listen to some of your music too,” he shrugs, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he helps you pull your jeans off, one leg at a time. You smile, shaking your head fondly at him before sinking back down once you’ve wriggled out of your pants. He sighs with satisfaction when you settle onto his lap, his hands finding your hips like they’ve always belonged there. He squeezes slowly, savoring the feeling of your skin while his thumbs skim over the waistband of your panties.
“I wish there was a different word,” you whisper, grinning sheepishly as you wrap your arms around his neck.
“You don’t like it?” Steve teases, ruffling your hair, “There are other ones, you know. I just think you’d hate them more.”
He leans in until his lips brush the shell of your ear, his hand finding the small of your back. You feel a shiver skitter down your spine as his hot breath fans against your skin.
“Like vag, or cunt, or–”
“Steve!” you squeal, giving his shoulder a light shove to cut him off. Your expression screwed up tightly, landing somewhere between embarrassment and disgust by the scrunch of your nose. He just laughs heartily, pulling you closer on his lap with two hands on your backside.
“Can’t I just say, like…” you trail off thoughtfully, twirling a bit of his soft hair around your finger, “Between my legs?
“Sure. Whatever floats your boat,” he says, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose.
“Don’t say stuff like that when I’m half naked,” you mumble, your vision slightly blurring from trying to focus on him when he was so close to your face. “So dorky.”
“Why? Is that not floating your boat?”
Jesus christ. He’s lucky he’s as pretty as he is.
“No– Steve,” you huff frustratedly, grabbing one of his hands to drag it from your sternum down slowly, swallowing hard as his fingers skim over your stomach, stopping just at the waistband of your panties. You feel him reflexively rub his index finger over the lacy edge, teasing you.
“Touch me… touch between my legs, please. I need it,” you shudder.
“Aw,” Steve coos, pouting his lips at you, “Good girl. You’re so red right now, baby.”
Steve slides his hand down between your thighs, spreading his fingers out over your panties possessively. You know he’s enjoying the sight of his whole hand covering your clothed cunt from the way his adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow. God, you were aching. It was nearly impossible to stay still while perched on his lap this way, your hips lifting slightly to press against his palm.
Making good on his promise, he hooks his finger into your panties to pull them aside, groaning lowly at the string of glinting arousal that connects the fabric to your skin. Steve curses under his breath, urging you to spread your legs wider before dragging his middle finger from your slick entrance up to your clit that throbs under his touch. Both of you share a mirrored, trembling sigh as he begins to rub the pad of his finger against that sensitive bundle of nerves. He goes slow, his eyes stuck on your expression, absorbing your every reaction. He drank in all of it, every flutter of your lashes, the way your brows furrowed with relief, how beautiful you looked when your skin was flushed like this. He could never, ever get enough of you.
“Feels good?” he whispers roughly, “This what you wanted?”
“Mhm,” you mumble, nodding hastily.
Skillfully, he switches out his middle finger for his thumb, pressing it firmly over your aching clit. Steve watches your face closely as he slides two of his fingers into you, pumping and curling them with practiced dexterity. He moans gruffly as he watches your back arch, feeling the curve of your spine with his free hand when he hits that sweet spot inside you just right. It never takes him long to find it. He knew your body all too well.
His eyes were shining as he glanced down, relishing the sight of his fingers slipping in and out of you with ease. You watch as your boyfriend bites his lip at the lewd, wet sounds that fill the room, smiling dirtily to himself. You knew how much he got off on getting you soaked, always competing with himself to see how wet he could get you, how easily he could push his thick fingers into you every time he had you like this.
“Ah… yeah,” he sighs admiringly, “Love this pretty cunt. You hear how wet you are for me?”
And there he goes again. Saying things that make your skin get hot, and your hips squirm without your permission. How does he always turn you completely inside out with just a few words? Before you can fully ponder it, he’s leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips, parting them with his tongue while he starts to rub your clit faster. Every swipe of his thumb has you clinging to him for stability, your nails biting into his arms while he licks hotly into your mouth. You could feel your body melting into him, your shoulders sagging as warm pleasure buzzed in your veins.
“You want another?” he breathes, panting softly against your lips as he introduces his pointer finger, rubbing it against your slit, “I know you can take it.”
Your thighs tremble, your head telling you that you’re already so full of him, but your body throbbing with the need to take anything he wants to give you. Steve leans in, kissing between your breasts as he looks up at you with those soft brown eyes, that handsome face. You found yourself nodding without even thinking twice about it. You feel Steve’s lips spread into a smile against your skin, victorious.
He hastily presses a kiss to your mouth, nipping your bottom lip before withdrawing his fingers from you entirely. You nearly whine at the loss of his digits, ready to squirm and put up a fight, but a rush of arousal silences you as you watch your boyfriend spit onto his fingers, ensuring their slickness and your comfort. He reaches down between your thighs, spreading the wetness over you in a way that makes you gasp for breath, your hips rocking in desperation for more friction. You couldn’t think about anything but how hot you felt under your skin, need corroding your inhibitions.
“Steve!” you beg, your voice sounding almost totally unfamiliar to you when it’s so laced with lust.
“Easy there,” he mutters, stilling your gyrating body with a commanding grasp on your hip. Your thighs still twitched despite your best efforts to relax. You felt anything but relaxed. His touch made you feel like a live wire.
A whimper sputters from you as he begins to slowly slide the third finger inside, stretching out your velvety walls. Steve’s lips are on your throat now, kissing his way up while your head lolls back with pleasure. You feel the slow slide of his digits until he’s knuckle deep inside of you, listening to his satisfied sigh.
“Fuck,” you whisper, your eyes squeezing shut tightly at the simmering feeling.
“I know, I know,” he murmurs, peppering kisses over your jaw, “Taking it so well.”
He doesn’t move his fingers yet, giving you a few moments to adjust and to feel the light fluttering of your walls. You crack your eyes open just in time to see Steve’s free hand reach for the crotch of his jeans, squeezing lightly to relieve some of the pressure that strained against his zipper.
“Oh god,” he mumbles. You watch as his eyes roll back, his brows pinching together at the lick of pleasure that he gets, the slight bit of relief from the ache. He looked absolutely gorgeous this way, palming himself through his jeans with that expression on his face like he was barely restraining the urges that clawed at him, eating him alive.
A trembling moan rips through you as he picks up his ministrations again, his thumb working swiftly in tandem with the fingers inside you. You scraped your nails over his bare shoulders and back, feeling yourself approach your edge almost mortifyingly quickly as you pant and writhe on top of him. His fingers hit the right spots again and again, unbearably accurate.
“Want to see you come so hard, baby,” Steve shudders, panting softly with parted, kiss-bitten lips. His eyes are full of an equal, knee-weakening mix of adoration and desperation, his unoccupied hand moving to caress the side of your face tenderly.
You don’t know what came over you. Maybe it was all of Steve’s urging to talk dirty, but you find yourself pleading with him.
“Steve, please, fuck me.”
Your boyfriend’s eyes go wide, his unrelenting pace suddenly stuttering as he stares at you, slack-jawed. He stammers something unintelligible before giving a curt nod and shutting his mouth. You’ve never seen Steve Harrington speechless before.
He gently slides his fingers out of you, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from between your legs before beginning to fumble with his belt.
“Lay back, lay back,” he sputters with conviction, letting out a frustrated groan as he struggles to get his belt out of its metal clasp, “I’m gonna give you the time of your fucking life, I swear to god.”
You just smile warmly, getting comfortable on his bed while he goes to war with his jeans. He rolls himself off the mattress, hopping around in his skin-tight, white briefs to kick his pants off his ankles. As if he wasn’t raring to go already, he certainly is now.
Steve is on top of you in a matter of seconds, his warm weight settled on your body. He reaches for your hand, inhaling deeply as he kisses your palm, your wrist, and then up the rest of your arm, practically radiating enthusiasm and adoration. You let out a giggle as his lips lead him up the column of your neck next, your fingers threading into his hair that was now mussed by your wandering hands. You swear your heart nearly gives out when he pulls away to gaze into your eyes like you’re the loveliest thing he’s ever seen. He can say so much with just one look.
His soft eyes dart from over your face restlessly before landing on your lips, a slow smile spreading across his face as he sees them, shamelessly staring at how swollen they’ve become from his kisses. Steve’s forearms rest on either side of your head, caging you in underneath him.
“Where were we?” he drawls playfully, waggling his eyebrows at you before leaning in close enough that you can feel his warm breath on your lips.
Your hands find the sides of his face as he slowly draws you in for a gentle kiss, the two of you sharing a moment where time seemed to slow down in the middle of a whirlwind of passion and excitement. This was the side to Steve that no one else got to see but you. The side that makes dorky comments and brushes your hair away from your face with the kind of tenderness that could make anyone believe in love if they witnessed it.
“I love you,” he whispers between soft locks of your lips, “I love that you’re talking. So sexy.”
Without breaking the contact of his lips against yours, he reaches one of his strong arms over your head to his nightstand. You don’t have to open your eyes to know what he’s getting, the sound of crinkling foil sending a familiar chill of anticipation through your body. Your pulse was thundering by now, your head swimming in the best possible way. No matter how much you grabbed at his hair or his shoulders, you could never fully express what he does to you, how much you wanted him.
You hear him sliding his briefs down his hips, a soft grunt leaving him as his length is freed from the confines of his underwear, now resting heavily between his stomach and yours. With shuddering breaths and trembling hands, he pulls back from you enough to tear the wrapper off the condom.
He reaches down between you, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock. The sound he makes as he firmly pumps himself in his fist is absolutely sinful. You watch, completely captured as pearls of precum drip from him, landing right above your navel. He reigns himself in, forcing his hand to be still while rolling the condom onto his thick length.
“You’re staring,” he whispers, noticing the way your jaw hangs open with awe, “What do you say, sweet girl?”
Steve repositions himself, keeping one hand on his cock to gently slide the head back and forth between your honeyed folds. You gasp softly, a shock of pleasure tightening your abdomen when he rubs over your clit, just barely kissing it with his tip.
“Please?” you try.
But he doesn’t make any moves to push into you, silently tapping your sensitive bundle of nerves with the head of his cock to send more of those sharp waves of stimulation through you. Steve’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth, his eyes dark and heavily lidded as he waits for something. You could well up in tears with frustration, able to feel how tightly wound your body was, every muscle drawn in desperation for release that only he could give you.
“Steve, put it in,” you plead, your voice now lowering into a delicate murmur, “Need it.”
His eyes flicker up your face, smug and satisfied, but never mean.
“You’re getting good at this, hm?” he smiles, pressing the tip of his cock down firmly with his thumb just to watch your legs squirm, “Making me so proud of my girl.”
Your breath is stolen from you as he begins to line himself up with your slit, a gruff whisper of “look at me” making your gaze snap to his face. Only when your eyes meet his does he begin to push his hips forward, feeling your velvety walls stretch to accommodate him. You feel a familiar, low simmer as your body gives way to him. Your hands slide over his chest, exploring the spattering of hair under your fingertips.
Steve’s lips part with a strained groan as he feels your warmth enveloping him bit by bit, panting softly as he experiences that overwhelming tightness around his cock that his own hand could never offer.
“Fuck,” he mutters, a dirty smile pulling at his lips. He looks almost drunk, totally intoxicated by the way you feel around him when his hips fully meet yours.
Sweat glistens in small beads at his hairline as he tosses his head back, pushing his hair away from his eyes. He begins to thrust shallowly. Your eyes roll back, lashes fluttering at the feeling of him so deep inside of you. It’s like he’s splitting you open.
You can feel his eyes on you, the intensity of his gaze practically burning into you. Steve reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers between yours before pressing it into the mattress beside your head. His soft grunts grow louder as he allows his hips to roll deeper, the bedframe beginning to creak.
“Feels so good, you feel so good,” he babbles, running his thumb over the side of your hand back and forth.
“Steve, more,” you shudder, your chest heaving.
He doesn’t need to be told twice. Your hazy head can hardly process it when he’s picking up your legs and bending them at the knees, one of his large hands holding the back of your thigh up for leverage. The tip of his cock continues to drive into you, his body angled to hit all of the right spots. He squeezes your hand adoringly, as if to say a little goodbye before leaving to snake down your body.
You open your eyes with a start, gasping when his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing in firm circles. You pant at the entirely more electric feeling, your body lighting up with sensation. He doesn’t have to ask to know just how good you’re feeling, to know that he’s playing your body like a fine instrument. But he asks anyway, just to watch you struggle to speak.
“So good,” you whisper, your voice trembling nearly as much as your legs.
Steve twitches within your taut walls when you begin to gently rock against him, attempting to meet his steady, powerful thrusts. He’s gripping your thigh harder with every noise he pulls from you. The breathy sounds of your pleasure only seem to spur him on further, making him drive his body forward into yours harder, faster. His head drops forward to your neck, burying his face there as he pants raggedly against your skin, leaving heedless, open-mouthed kisses all over you.
“I love you,” he says devotedly, “Love fucking you.”
The room is filled with the kind of noise that could make even a sinner blush. Skin on skin, gasps for breath, dirty words muffled by your flushed neck. He’s unapologetically fucking you into the bed, the pace contrasted by the sweet way his fingers rub over your thigh, soothing the raw, red marks from his grip on you. And the way he’s looking at your face… his eyes hold an unmistakable tenderness for you as he gives you every ounce of pleasure he can offer, however much your body can take. He could be watching your tits bounce, or his cock disappear into you over and over, but he doesn’t. The connection between you ran deeper than the joining of your hips, deeper than anything either of you had ever felt before. You’re both in your own small world together, where nothing matters outside of the bounds of Steve’s bedroom.
“Close, Steve,” you gasp, your back arching off the mattress as the warm current of pleasure curls and licks inside of you.
“Let go,” he nods affirmingly, “Whenever you’re ready. God, need you to come on my dick, baby.”
Steve’s thumb works faster, swiping over your swollen clit almost furiously. Your body responds with a jolt, hips writhing as the warmth begins to bloom in the pit of your stomach, tight and tense and ready to burst. There are a few seconds where you’re just teetering on the edge that allow you to drink in the entirely focused look on his face, one that said he was determined to make you see stars tonight.
And you do. You swear there’s a crackling light behind your eyelids as you reach the height of your pleasure. Your eyes are squeezed shut tightly as your long, drawn-out moans fill the room, along with Steve’s uncontrollable shudders from you squeezing and fluttering around him.
“Shit, coming,” he grits out, his thrusts becoming nearly frantic as he chases his release.
Your nails dig into Steve’s back, leaving angry, crescent-shaped marks that he’ll obsess over later in the mirror. Warmth floods the condom moments after, his hips stuttering and bucking haphazardly. He leans down, continuing to help you through the waves of your orgasm while he heatedly crushes his lips to yours.
“You’re so perfect,” he declares between messy, yet perfect kisses, letting go of your thigh to hold the side of your face instead.
His thumb slows to a languid pace, lazily stroking over your oversensitive clit until he stops. The roaring passion slowly dies down into a calm buzz of affection, Steve pushing into you once more, getting as close to you as possible before stilling his body. The kiss is broken, both of you gasping for breath as he stares down into your eyes.
He smiles hazily, touching the tip of his nose to yours gently, leaving you beaming back at him. His hair is a mess, loose strands sticking to his glistening forehead. You aren’t faring much better after your boyfriend indeed gave you the time of your life. Having damp sheets clinging to your skin has never felt better.
Neither of you had any intention of moving an inch. Steve was still buried inside you. The idea of him pulling out an impossible one when being this close felt so right. He’s singing your praises, whispering the gentlest things to you while his thumb follows the course of your cheekbone.
You had a feeling you’d be getting more vocal in bed from now on if this is what it got you…
