Last updated: 7/10/26

My Girl | Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader (18+)

Word Count: 4k

Summary: The hot drummer hits on you after a dive bar performance, and Steve shows his jealous side.

Stuck | Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader (18+)

Word Count: 833

Summary: You find yourself stuck in an elevator with Steve the day after you told him you didn't want to hook up anymore.

Domestic Bliss | Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader (18+)

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: You and Steve recently moved in together, and you break the kitchen in.

Keep Going | Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader (18+)

Word Count: 737

Summary: Steve comes out of the shower to find you touching yourself.

Pull Over | Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader (18+)

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: You have a hot date with Steve, and you tease him until you get what you want--in his car.

That Look | Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader (18+)

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Steve is your best friend, and at Robin's birthday party, a little tequila leads to big confessions.

Requests

Pairing: Boss!Steve Harrington x Female! Reader

Word Count: 13.5k

Warnings: lots of pining, age gap, power differential (acknowledged), slight angst and a lot of fluff, major polo appreciation, smut (18+) not such a slowburn i guess, let me know if i missed anything!!! i didn't include individual warnings for the smut because i don't want to spoil the best part but lmk if you want the warnings!!!

A/N: i've been working on this for so so so long and i finally feel ready to post it!!! thank you so much for all of the support on all of my fics and i hope you guys like this one!!! the second part is already written so let me know if you want it ;) thank you to my very special friends for reading it first

Working at the Hawkins video rental shop is a fantastic way to spend your summer after graduating from college.

The hours are steady, the pay is great, and you like all of your coworkers. You enjoy the atmosphere of the store despite the occasional weird customer–oh, and the free rentals are a major benefit, too. 

And, well… there’s no way to get around it–your boss is hot.

Sure, he’s at least a decade older than you. And yes, he signs your checks. But you just can’t help it. 

He’s effortlessly sexy and frustratingly mysterious. What little you know about him you learned from Robin, the manager. 

Apparently, the two of them used to work there together fresh out of high school, then took a brief hiatus to work for the local radio station. After the station shut down, each of the employees got a pretty sizeable severance check. 

Robin used the money to buy a small house with her best friend, Vickie, while Steve couldn’t decide what to use it on and saved it. 

He ultimately applied for the open manager position at Family Video, and he worked there for some time before the owner retired and Steve bought the store. Oh, and hired Robin as the manager, of course. 

Steve works every morning, spending his time mostly in the office with a cup of black coffee, although he often meanders around the store. He chats with the customers and employees, sets up new displays, and runs the register. 

On nights that Robin doesn’t work, Steve comes back to close the store. You relish those moments with him, as fleeting as they are. 

Today, when you walk into the store for your shift, he’s behind the counter. 

“Hey, Steve,” you greet him with a smile, not expecting to see him but glad you picked a cute outfit for the evening.

“Hey. How’s it goin’?” He leans against the counter, his big arms looking spectacular in the blue polo he has on. 

“I’m good, how are you?” you respond cordially, the same way you would to a customer. But you don’t ogle the customers the way you do Steve. You don’t get all nervous when you talk to them. 

“It’s been slow today.” He breathes, glancing around the empty store. “Robin’s sick, will you be okay to work alone tonight? I’ll be back to close, of course.” 

“Yeah, no problem.” You slide your vest on over your shirt. “I like working alone sometimes.” 

“Yeah? You don’t get… lonely?” he asks, straightening up behind the register. 

You consider it. “Once in a while, but it’s not too bad.”

“Well, if you get lonely tonight, call me.” He flashes you a smile, his keys jingling as he grabs them from the counter. “Otherwise, I’ll be back at eight. Okay?” 

“Okay,” you smile, unable to help the blush that creeps over your cheeks. 

He gives you one last nod before locking his office up and escaping the store through the large glass doors. 

If you get lonely tonight, call me. That’s what Steve just said to you. And while you know he didn’t mean it like that, you can’t help but replay his words over and over again in your head. 

While you’re reshelving the comedies, ringing up local high schoolers, wiping down the counter. If you get lonely tonight, call me. 

Call me. 

Call m-

“Um, excuse me?” A man clears his throat, waiting by the register for you to ring him up.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” You spring up from your crouched position to rush over to the register. 

—

Around quarter-to-eight, the store is completely deserted. You haven’t seen a customer in at least half an hour, and there’s only so much wiping down the shelves can take. 

You check the clock again eagerly, awaiting Steve’s return. You wonder if he’ll be wearing that damn polo again or if he’ll have changed into something more comfortable. 

You’ve already reapplied your lip gloss and fixed your hair three times, wanting to look as good as possible for your boss.

Your boss. God, you’re so dumb. This little crush is starting to get out of hand.

Finally, the bell atop the door rings and Steve walks in, wearing jeans and a long-sleeve black shirt. “Woah, it’s packed in here!” He holds his hands up in mock amazement, and you can’t suppress your giggle. 

“It’s been pretty slow. I did all the restocking and cleaned the shelves,” you say, maybe a little too proud of yourself.

He meets your eyes, smiling. “Thank you, it looks great in here.”  

He spins to take a long look around the store, and sighs deeply. 

“Does it… look great?” You frown, wondering what you did wrong. 

“Yes, of course. Everything is perfect. It’s not that.” He turns to face you. “I just… don’t know how much longer I can keep this place open.” 

“What?” Your mouth hangs open for a moment. “Why?” 

“I can’t afford it if no one’s coming in.” He shakes his head. “A lot of people are leaving Hawkins.” 

You sit in silence for a moment, feeling dejected at the thought of losing the job you’ve only had for three months. And worse—losing Steve.

“Don’t worry,” he assures, noticing the look on your face. “I’m not giving up yet. I think we need some more advertising.” 

“Like what?” you ask, intrigued and hoping he’s not going to ask you to spin a comically large sign.

“I think we should film a commercial.”

You burst out laughing, thinking he’s joking. “A commercial?” 

“Yes! A commercial. A lot of local businesses are doin’ it. It’s cool.” 

“We could make it cool,” you agree, shrugging. 

You notice the way Steve has shuffled closer to you, his cologne invading your senses. You look up at him, bracing your hands on the counter that separates you. 

“Would you star in it?” He asks, his glance flickering down to your lips. Did he really just look at your lips? The lip gloss worked!

“Do you want me to?” 

“Only if you want to.  Just think about it.” He runs a hand through his hair, stepping backward. “Why don’t you get out of here? I’ll close up.” 

You don’t want to leave. You want to stay here, alone in the store with Steve all night. 

“Are you sure? I can help,” you offer. 

“It’s okay, really. Go home. I’m sure you have something more exciting to do.” He’s ushering you toward the door, now, looking out at the empty parking spaces. “Did you park out back?” 

“I walked today,” you reply, tightening your bag on your shoulder. 

“What?” Steve frowns immediately. “You can’t walk home. It’s getting dark. It’s Friday night. Who knows what could be out there?” He gestures toward the empty street. 

Okay. So maybe walking to work today wasn’t the best idea, he’s right. But what are you supposed to do now? You could maybe call a friend to come get you, but you don’t know if anyone would be willing to cart you around.

“I’ll drive you,” Steve says, as if he’s replying to your internal questions. 

Suddenly, you’re very happy with your decision to walk to work. 

“Oh, um, if you’re sure,” you offer him a small smile, but you’re grinning internally. 

“I am.” He walks around the store, turning off all of the lights as you unplug the neon “open” sign. 

Steve holds the door for you, then locks it behind you and joins you on the sidewalk. 

“Ready?” He motions toward his car, parked on the edge of the street. 

“Ready,” you smile. “Sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all. Just want you to get home safe.” His hand beats yours to the door handle, opening it for you. 

You look up at him for a beat, catching his eyes in a silent thank you before getting in the passenger’s seat. 

As he walks around the front of the car, you look around. The car is nice–much nicer than yours. You settle into the leather, running your hand over the dash. 

Steve gets in, laughing. “You like it?” 

“It’s beautiful. I want a car like this someday,” you muse, buckling your seat belt. 

“You know,” he says as he starts the car, “I used to have a car just like this in high school. That thing was like, my baby.” 

“What happened to it?” 

“Well,” he chuckles softly, accelerating smoothly onto the road. “I totaled it.”

“You sort of sound like you’re talking about an ex,” you joke, looking over at him. 

“Yeah, she was the one.” He kisses his teeth, shaking his head. “But it wasn’t meant to be.”

You laugh with him as he turns down your street. You wish you lived a little further away. 

He parks in front of your house. “So, any big plans tonight?” 

“I have a date with Tom Cruise.” You reach into your bag and hold up the movie you pulled for tonight. 

“No way. Risky Business?” He takes it from your hands, flipping it over to examine it. 

“Have you seen it?” you ask, but you have a feeling you already know the answer. 

“Have I seen it?” He half laughs, half scoffs. “You have no idea who you’re talking to right now. Have you seen it?” 

“I will tonight,” you say matter-of-factly, swiping it back from his hands. “So, what about you? Big plans tonight?” 

“I might order a pizza or something,” he shrugs. 

“Well, aren’t we having an adventurous Friday night?” 

He laughs, and you notice the way his posture has changed. He’s facing you, one hand braced on the emergency brake, one on the steering wheel. 

You’re closer to him than you’ve ever been, and your body can hardly take the nearness. Your heart beats faster, heat spreading across your face. 

“Do you, um… live alone?” you ask, suddenly emboldened by the proximity. 

 He nods. “Yeah, it’s pretty quiet. I’m thinking about getting a dog.” 

Your face fills with joy. “Really? I used to work at the shelter.” 

“Oh yeah? That’s good to know. Maybe I’ll need your expertise,” he remarks, his eyebrows raising slightly. 

Laughter bubbles out of you as you reach for your bag, not wanting to overstay your welcome. “Anytime. Thank you again for the ride.” 

“No problem.” He watches you open the door and step out, turning to give him one last smile before shutting the door and walking up to your house. 

—

The next morning, Steve coops himself up in his office like usual, a stack of bills in front of him. He sighs deeply, sorting through them like he’s been doing for the past hour. 

His reprieve comes in the form of Robin rapping on the door. “Steve? You in there?” 

“Yeah, come in, Rob.” He calls, and she swings the door open. 

“You look depressed,” she points out immediately, staring right into his soul. 

“I’m good. Just… bills, y’know?” He tosses the papers on the desk, using both of his hands to rake his hair back. 

“You’re not gonna fire me, are you?” She rolls her eyes, plopping in the seat across from his desk. 

“No, but that would make the most financial sense, so don’t give me any ideas.” 

Robin stares at him thoughtfully for a moment. 

“So, uh… bills got you down, then? Nothing else?” 

Before he has a chance to answer, you come around the corner. “Hey,” you smile awkwardly. “Just… wanted to let you know I’m here.” You address both of them, even though you came in to talk to Steve. 

He checks his watch, furrowing his brows. “You’re early.” 

“Oh, yeah. I drove today. Saved some time,” you shrug. “Thanks again, for yesterday.” You pop out of the office faster than you came in.

Robin raises an eyebrow, craning her neck to Steve. “Yesterday?” 

He clears his throat, tightening his lips. “I gave her a ride home.” 

Robin notices how he refuses to meet her eyes. 

“A ride home?”

“Yes.”

“Just a ride?” 

“Yes, Robin. Who do you think I am?” He scoffs. “She’s a little young for me, don’t ya think?”

She pulls the door closed behind her. “Don’t sleep with her, please.” 

“It was one ride!” He throws his hands up. “I’m not gonna sleep with her. I just didn’t want her to get attacked on the street.”

“Okay, fine. But I have my eye on you,” she warns, narrowing her eyes before opening the door again and exiting the office. 

Steve huffs, letting his head fall forward on the desk. 

—

Your face crinkles in concentration as you look through customer logs to compile a list of overdue movies. 

You hear his keys clatter on the counter before you see him, and you tear your eyes away from the screen. “Hey,” you greet Steve. 

He must not have shaved this morning, but you’re not complaining, because the stubble that grows along his jaw sparks something in you. You can’t help but imagine what it would feel like against your face, your neck, between your legs. 

The sound of your name snaps you out of your trance, clearing your throat. “Sorry, uh, what were you asking?” 

“How’d you like Risky Business?” He asks, presumably for the second time. 

“I liked it a lot. You know, you kind of look like him.” You cock an eyebrow, leaning against the counter.

“Huh. Y’think so?” A smirk finds its way onto his lips, his eyes tracing your features. 

“Mhm. Have you heard that before?” 

“Oh, yeah. A long time ago, though.” He laughs, looking around the store. 

The way he talks about the past intrigues you more than anything, and you’re itching to find out more about him. 

“What were you like in high school?” you probe, and Steve squints slightly. 

“I was… you know, a regular high schooler. I dunno.” He shrugs, but he’s obviously playing it cool. 

“Hmmm,” you consider, looking over his face for any hint he might give you. A guy like Steve must have been popular in high school. Look at him! 

“What have you heard? You seem to have some… preconceived notions.”

“I haven’t heard anything, but I can use my context clues,” you quip. He’s not the only one who can be mysterious. 

“Like what?” He leans in further, clearly wanting to know what you think. 

“You’re… fit.” You look him up and down, his eyes following yours. “So you must have played a sport or two, which would have made you pretty popular.” 

He nods slowly, hanging on your words, so you continue. “Then again, you did decide to buy a video store, which kind of makes me think you’re a huge nerd.” 

“A nerd?” He laughs. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?” His tone is borderline flirtatious, his eyes dangerously inviting. 

Unfortunately, some middle schoolers walk in to crash your party. 

“Maybe I do,” you flash him one last smirk before walking around the counter and past him to attend to the kids. 

—

Your reflection stares back at you as you get ready for your date. Not a date, you scold yourself. 

You had the morning shift at work, and Steve asked you to accompany him to the shelter to adopt a dog.

“Maybe you could, uh… come with me. Help me pick one, I mean,” he had said, an offer that you accepted excitedly. 

Now, you comb through your hair, doing mental gymnastics with yourself. 

Why did Steve ask you to come along? Surely, he doesn’t just want your help picking out a dog. Or maybe he does. God, he’s confusing. 

No matter how much you think about it, you can’t decipher whether Steve is flirting with you or not. Maybe he’s just a really friendly boss who needs help adopting a dog. 

Why, then, do his eyes manage to find your lips during every conversation? Why does he lean closer? Why does he stay at work longer than he has to so he can talk to you? 

All of these questions are unanswered, untested, and you’re driving yourself crazy thinking about him. 

So that’s why you’ve decided to wear a dress and do your hair. If you dress for a date and plan for a date, maybe Steve will think it’s a date, too. 

He told you he’d pick you up around three, so about fifteen minutes before, you sit on the couch and wait, looking out the window. 

“You look beautiful, honey,” your mom’s voice rings in the living room. “Are you waiting for someone?”

You open your mouth for a second, then close it, deciding whether to tell her the truth or not. You decide to remain ambiguous.

“Yes, I am. He should be here soon.” 

“Who’s the lucky guy?” she grins, sitting beside you on the couch. 

“Oh, um, you haven’t met him yet. His name’s Steve.” 

“How’d you meet him? Is he handsome?” 

Well, isn’t she just full of questions?

“I met him at work, and yes, he’s very handsome. But it might not be a date. I’m… actually helping him adopt a dog.”

“Hmm,” she considers, standing. “Well, good luck. Just let me know if you’re staying out too late.”

She shoots you a wink and walks into the kitchen, and you feel a little bad about lying to her. 

You see Steve’s BMW pull up in front of your house, and you rush out the door, trying not to look too excited. 

He gets out to greet you, leaning against the side of the car. “Hey, you.”

Hey, you? 

He takes off his black sunglasses that really sell the whole Risky Business look. 

“Nice shades, Tom Cruise,” you tease, smiling up at him. 

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” he remarks as he opens the door for you. 

You get in, the leather warm against your bare legs. You notice the stack of cassette tapes, noticing one that reads, “For Steve.” You wonder who that’s from–could it be a lover? You still don’t even know whether he’s single or not. 

“So, what kind of dog do you see yourself with?” you ask when he settles in.  

He seems to consider it for a moment, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. 

“Well,” he says as he starts the car and pulls out. “One that likes to go on morning runs with me. Maybe a big dog? One that’ll keep me warm at night.” 

I could keep you warm at night, you think. 

“This is good. We’re narrowing down our options. So… what makes you think I’m a dog expert?” 

He laughs. “Well, you did work at the shelter, so you know the lay of the land. Plus, you’re fun.” He looks over at you briefly.

You don’t say anything, just smile back at him and press your legs a little closer together. 

When you get to the shelter, Steve holds the door for you, and you’re quickly greeted by one of your old coworkers. 

“Shannon!” you grin, pulling her in for a hug. “How are you?” 

“I’m great! I have so much to tell you. We need to get together!” 

You and Shannon continue to chat while Steve wanders off to the kennels, looking at the dogs longingly. 

“Is he your… boyfriend?” Shannon lowers her voice to a whisper, and you shake your head quickly. 

“He’s my boss, actually. I have a schoolgirl crush on him. I don’t know,” you whisper back. “He asked me to help him.” 

She smiles widely, and you can tell there’s a squeal trying to escape her throat. 

“C’mon, let’s see what he thinks,” she leads you to Steve, who’s looking into a kennel. 

“So? Fall in love yet?” you ask, standing beside him. 

“This makes me… sad,” he sighs. “I wish I could take them all home.” 

Ugh, he’s perfect, you think. You love a sensitive man.

“Well, you can take one home, and that makes a difference.” Shannon smiles, and Steve nods.

“What about Goose?” you suggest, turning toward the kennel of a black lab who sits by the bars, panting and keen for attention. “He looks fast.” 

Steve smiles, reaching through the bars to pet Goose, who eagerly pushes his head into Steve’s hand.

“You guys can take him for a walk, if you’d like. He’s a real sweetheart.” Shannon hands you the leash, winking. Luckily, Steve is too interested in Goose to notice. 

Outside, Steve holds the leash as you walk through the shelter property.

“Have you ever had a dog before?” you ask, walking in stride with him. 

“No, my parents would never let me. And then I was living with Robin, and she doesn’t do well with animals. And then I was so busy with the store.” His free hand gestures wildly. “But now, I feel like it’s the right time.” 

You appreciate the amount of time he’s put into this decision. You like his thoughtfulness. 

“I think he would be really lucky to go home with you.” You smile over at him, hair blowing in the wind. 

He just smiles back at you, holding the eye contact for a beat too long. 

—

“He’s so cute,” you muse, rubbing Goose’s face. You’re in the pet store now with Steve, helping him pick out some stuff for his new best friend. 

“Yes, he is. So, what do we need?” 

“Well, we got the collar and the leash. So, food, dishes for food and water, a bed, some toys, treats, maybe a fun outfit.” You look around the store. “Oh! And a name tag, of course. With your number in case he runs away.” 

“He’ll never run away. He loves me too much, right Goose?” He pets him happily, and Goose licks his hand. 

For over an hour, you, Steve, and Goose walk around the store, throwing things in a cart and racking up a hefty bill for precious Goose. 

Steve pulls out a wad of cash while you hold the leash, and the whole thing feels a little too domestic. 

—

When Steve drops you off, you sit in the car for way too long, talking in soft voices while Goose snoozes in the back seat. 

“So, how did you meet Robin?” you ask, leaning your head against the seat as you look over at him. 

“We worked together. At Scoops Ahoy,” he chuckles. 

“The ice cream shop? With the uniforms?” you giggle, crossing your legs and turning them in toward him. 

“I looked amazing in that uniform,” he narrows his eyes and looks up, reminiscing. “Except for that damn hat.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. But I was so full of myself. All I cared about was how I looked, my status, and… girls,” he sighs.

“Really? You’re not like that now.” He’s so caring, so thoughtful. He seems more insecure than cocky to you–it’s hard to imagine him the way he’s describing himself. 

“I like to think I’ve grown,” his lips turn up in a smile, his eyes tracing your features. 

You hear a faint whine from the back seat, and you turn to see Goose, awake and panting with excitement. You glance at the clock on the dashboard and realize you and Steve have been talking for over an hour.

“I should let you two get home.” You reach for your bag, and Steve straightens up. 

“Thanks for comin’,” he says, bracing his right hand behind your headrest. The car smells like fresh dog toys and Steve’s expensive cologne, and you notice a bit of chest hair peeking out from the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. 

“No problem. I had fun,” you smile, and for a second, the two of you just sit there in silence, looking at each other. He looks incredible, and you want to kiss him more than anything. 

But you don’t. Because he doesn’t. Instead, you pet Goose one last time and exit the car with a giddy grin on your face. 

—

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is not good, Steve thinks, sitting on the couch with Goose. 

He buries his face in his hands, gritting his teeth and trying to will you out of his mind. 

Steve’s dated a lot of girls—older girls, younger girls, his friends’ sisters, even his friend’s ex. But he’s never managed to find himself falling for an employee of his. 

When you walked into the video store with an application, he immediately noticed how beautiful you were. That’s not why he hired you, of course. 

Your application was stellar—thorough work experience, excellent references, and the ideal availability. He had to hire you.

Now, he’s regretting his decision. He’s like a man possessed. At first it was the smell of your perfume, the gloss on your lips. Then, the way you laughed at all of his jokes and stayed at work late just to talk to him. 

He’s getting attached. Too attached for a girl way too young for him. A girl who works for him. A girl who Robin expressly told him to stay away from. 

He feels like such an asshole. So he does the only thing he can think to do–walk over to the phone and call his best friend. 

“Hello?” Robin answers, but her voice sounds muffled and weird. “It’s me,” he frowns. “Are you eating or something?” 

“Brushing my teeth,” she says, the words sounding warbled and wet. 

“We need to talk. Do you want to do it over the phone or in person?” 

“Huh?” She spits into the sink. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, Rob. It’s not serious. Well, it sort of is, I guess,” he huffs. “Can I come over?” 

“Vickie’s in bed,” she responds. Then, “I’ll come to you. See you soon,” and she hangs up. 

—

Robin’s knocking pulls Steve from his haze, and he rushes to answer the door. “Hey. Thanks.”

Robin walks through the door and beelines for the couch, stopping in her tracks when she sees Goose. “Whose dog is this?” she demands. 

“My dog, Robin. He’s nice, don’t worry.” He nudges her closer to the couch. “His name is Goose.” 

She raises an eyebrow, patting Goose experimentally. “Kind of a weird name for a dog…” 

“He came with that name. I think it's unique.” He sits on the couch with her, Goose lying between them. 

“How long have you had him? Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” she probes, grimacing when Goose lays his head in her lap. 

“Well… kind of.” He begins to chronicle the events of the past few days, but as soon as he brings your name up, she scowls. 

“Seriously, Steve? This is about her? I told you not to sleep with her!” She throws her hands up. 

“I didn’t sleep with her, Robin, calm down,” he pleads. “Just be my friend right now.” 

She takes a long, deep breath, then nods. “Okay. So, you’re not hooking up? You’re just… hanging out with her?” 

“Yes. But I, uh… I have feelings for her. And I think she likes me, too.” 

“Of course she likes you, Harrington! You’re her boss. You’re older than her, you have power over her, and you’re giving her attention.” 

Ouch. That hits Steve square in the chest, and it must show on his face. 

“I’m sorry. That was harsh.” She rests a gentle hand on his shoulder. “But, Steve,” she adds softly. “You know you can’t be with her.”

“I know.” He mumbles, looking at the floor. 

She rubs his shoulder. “Steve? You okay?” 

Steve buries his face in his hands in response, and Robin wonders if he’s crying. 

They sit there for a moment, Robin's warm hand providing Steve all the comfort he’ll accept. 

Finally, he sits up. His eyes are dry, his face steady and solemn. “You should get home. Vickie’s waiting. I think I’m just gonna go to bed.”

“Are you sure? I-I don’t want to leave you alone like this. Maybe you should come and stay with us,” she suggests worriedly. 

“Relax, Rob, I’m not gonna kill myself. And I certainly don’t wanna stay with the most annoying couple I know,” he huffs.

His comment relieves Robin a little, as this is more like the Steve she knows. 

“Okay, well just call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” he responds, ushering her toward the door.

“See you at work tomorrow?” 

He nods, offering her a half smile as he sees her out and closes the door behind him. 

—

In his dream, you’re wearing the same dress that you wore the other day. Only, it’s bunched up around your hips as you straddle him in his bed. 

“Oh, Steve,” you purr in his ear as you rock your hips. Only, he can’t quite feel you, your touch absent against him. 

He can’t see your face, either, because it’s buried in his neck, and he can’t smell the perfume you have him addicted to. 

“I want you to fuck me,” you moan, “do you wanna fuck me?” 

“Y-yes, fuck,” He groans, turning his head in an attempt to kiss you, but his lips never reach yours. 

–

When Steve wakes up, his cock is sticky and hard again. The morning wood is typical, but he hasn’t had a wet dream in ages. 

You have some sort of spell over Steve, and he’s determined it’ll be the death of him. 

He sighs, simultaneously disappointed that he was only dreaming and ashamed of his subconscious. He decides to take a cold shower and go for a run with Goose to clear his head before work.  

—

When you arrive for your afternoon shift, Steve isn’t there, and it ruins your day. You practically sulk around the store, everything getting you a little more bothered. 

Rather than humming the songs you’ve heard a hundred times on the radio, you grit your teeth and wipe the shelves a little harder.  

The only mental reprieve you have is the fact that Steve will, surely, be coming down to close the store. 

When Robin shows up instead, she’s confused about why you seem disappointed to see her. You usually love working with her, you’ve even told her that before. 

“I wasn’t expecting you, sorry. I am happy to see you!” You punctuate your sentence with a smile. 

“You wanted to see Steve?” She asks. 

“Um, I… wouldn’t say I wanted to see him. I was just expecting him.” 

“Hmmm.” She looks doubtful. 

You feel your cheeks getting hotter, glancing down at the floor, then back to Robin. She’s onto you. 

“What is it?” you probe, referring to the look on her face. 

“Do you… like him or something?” 

Your poker face is no good. “What?! No, I- I, we’re just friends. Or, not friends. He’s my boss!” you ramble, your face on fire now. 

Robin sighs, pulling up a stool. Oh shit. You must be getting fired. You wonder how many other girls have been fired from the store for liking Steve. 

“Robin, I’m sorry. It’s just a stupid crush,” you whisper, on the verge of tears. 

She says your name gently, her hand on your shoulder grounding you. “Why are you sorry? It’s okay.” 

You nod, swallowing hard. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to make work awkward, I don’t want to throw myself at him, I… I don’t want him to break my heart.” Your tears spill over now, hands coming up to wipe them from your face. 

“Okay, deep breaths. Just listen, okay?” she soothes, and you nod in response, sniffling. 

“You’re an adult. A grown woman. And what happens between you and Steve is nobody else’s business.”

She continues, softly. “But people will find out. And it’s not a good look for Steve. He’s ten years older than you, he’s your boss.” 

She hands you a tissue she rummages for in her jacket. “I just want you to be happy. And make the right decision. And I’m here for you.” 

“Thank you,” you offer her a small smile, wrapping your arms around her in a hug. She squeezes you tightly, a maternal type of hug that everybody yearns for. 

“Now c’mon, let’s get outta here. I’ll get the lights.” 

—

The next time you see Steve, it’s under terrible circumstances. 

You can’t breathe. Don’t even really know what’s going on. What started as an ordinary shift ended in a masked man pointing a gun at you, demanding all of the money out of the register. 

Your first call was technically to the police when you hit the silent alarm button below the register. Steve had that put in due to an increase of creepy customers harassing his staff. 

He never would have expected someone in Hawkins to bring a gun to the store.

You’re still crying, shaking, hiding behind the register as your trembling fingers pull the phone off the hook. You dial Steve’s number and hold the phone up to your ear, swallowing down a sob. 

“Hello?”

“Steve,” you half-cry, half-whisper. “We’ve been robbed. I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, almost hyperventilating into the phone. 

“I’m on my way. Are you okay? Are you alone? Are the police there?” His fingers tighten on the phone. 

“I’m al-alone, I hit the button.” 

“Okay, just stay put. I’ll be there soon, I promise. Okay?” 

“Okay,” you agree, taking a deep breath as he hangs up.

He’s there before the police, tires squealing as he parks in front of the store. He runs inside, calling your name when he doesn’t see you. 

“I’m here. Behind the counter,” you call back, wiping your tears in an attempt to look at least a little bit okay. 

When he sees you, his heart breaks into a million tiny pieces. Because your face is puffy, knees pulled up to your chest, fear in your eyes—and it’s his fault. He scheduled you. Alone.

He kneels before you. “It’s just me,” he assures, voice soft and comforting. Then, he grabs your hand. Softly, slowly, like you might explode if he touches you wrong. “Come here.” 

And you do. You melt into his chest, burying your face against his shirt as sobs rack your body again. 

And he’s finally holding you, his touch grounding you. His hand stroking your hair, your tears staining his shirt. 

You don’t know how long he holds you, kneeling awkwardly on the floor and breathing softly into your hair, but it’s not long enough. 

The police eventually come, and Steve helps you stand, your knees wobbly. You don’t want to let him go. You want him to pull you back in, to tell you everything is going to be okay and that he’ll never let you go.  

But you’re torn apart, because the police need to take your statement, and Steve needs to show them the camera footage from the night. 

He sits behind the computer, pulling up the tapes, but his eyes flicker over to you every two seconds, to make sure you’re there, safe. 

After almost half an hour of watching the officer practically grill you, making you relive the terrifying moment over and over again, he stands. “Okay, that’s enough. She’s done with the questions for tonight.” 

You meet his eyes to thank him silently as the officer nods, handing you and Steve each his card. “Is he bringing you home?” he asks you, and you nod without looking back to Steve. 

Steve shakes hands with each of the officers and sees them out before finding his way back to the office, back to you. “Let’s get you home, yeah?” 

You hesitate. Your parents are away for the weekend, which would normally be grounds for a great time. 

You had been planning to go home and smoke the joint that’s been stashed in your nightstand for weeks. Maybe take a bath, try on your fancy underwear, think about Steve.  

That’s crushed, now. You don’t want to go home, don’t want to be alone. 

“My parents are gone…” You tuck your hair, still clutching the tissue Steve gave you. “What if he comes back?” you whisper. “What if he knows where I live?”

“Come stay with me,” he offers, without hesitation. “Goose is there,” he adds, and you smile through your tears, sniffling again. 

—

When you get to Steve’s, you’re greeted with Goose, who sits in front of you, leaning into your hand as you rub his head. 

“He’s such an angel,” you smile even though you want to cry again. 

“He really is,” Steve agrees, closing and locking the door behind you. “I can’t wrap my mind around why someone would give him up.” 

You look around Steve’s house, and it’s amazing. And way too big for one man. “This house is huge,” you say in awe, looking up at the ceiling. 

“It was my parents’. I grew up here.” He watches you walk around as if you’re inspecting it—like you’ve never seen a house before. “Do you like it?”

He’s not sure why he cares, but in his ideal world, you would be spending a lot of time here. 

You nod. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Do you wanna change?” he asks. 

You nod. You’re wearing jeans and a grey V-neck, the neckline darkened by your tears. You don’t know if you’ve ever cried so much in your life. Your vest hangs heavy on your shoulders still, nametag crooked. 

“C’mon,” he beckons you up the stairs. “I’ll show you my closet.’

“Okay,” you respond, stepping into his room. He pulls the closet doors open, stepping to the side. 

“Go crazy. I’m gonna call Robin, and then I’ll come check on you, okay?”

You nod, and you and Steve exchange a long, quiet look before he leaves the room, closing the door softly behind him. 

You begin to flip through Steve’s shirts, and it’s your personal heaven. 

Holy polos, you think, rifling through stripes of various sizes and colors. A few crewnecks, jackets, and lots of t-shirts. You settle on a navy blue tee with white stripes shooting across the front, and look through his drawers for some shorts.  

 You fold your clothes neatly and set them down on his desk chair, noticing how empty his desk is compared to his desk at the store, piled with papers and coffee cups. 

You walk toward the door to open it, and hear Steve’s voice faintly. He’s still on the phone with Robin. It’s quiet, though, so he must be downstairs. 

Against your better judgment, you turn the handle and crack the door as quietly as you can. 

“She’s shaken up,” you hear him say. “She’s, uh… with me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment. 

“No, Robin. I know. I’m not going to.”

Not going to what? Another moment of silence. 

“I know she’s vulnerable. I’m just looking after her.” 

Great. He’s looking after you. Like a babysitter. 

“You know how I feel about her, Rob. Can you give me a break?” 

Oh shit. Now you feel terrible, like you’ve invaded his privacy. You did. But how does he feel about you? Surely, he means he likes you. Right?

You swing the door open fully, as loud as possible without slamming it so you can alert Steve of your presence. 

He clears his throat. “I gotta go. Can we talk in the morning? Yeah. Okay, bye.”

You hear him bounding up the stairs. “You good?” he calls. 

“Yeah,” you respond, and he walks in. 

“I like your outfit.” He glances down and back up. Uninterested. Or respectful. 

“Thanks,” you smooth your hands over the shirt. “I thrifted it.” 

He narrows his eyes, taking one step closer to you to lean on his dresser. “You callin’ me old?” 

“Maybe,” you shrug. “If the shoe fits.”

He’s glad to hear you tease him again. “So, uh… are you okay?” 

You inhale, exhale, the smell of his shirt on you comforting. “I’m okay,” you insist. “I’m just… embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? Why?” 

You have a hard time finding the words. Because I cried. Because the first time I touched you, I got my snot on you. Because you’re taking care of me like I’m a child. Because I’m in love with you.

“I don’t know,” you say instead, fighting the tears that threaten to come. He must hear it in your voice. 

“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it,” he assures. “But you have nothing to be embarrassed about. At all. And I’m so sorry this happened.” His voice is filled with hurt and guilt, like he thinks it’s his fault this happened to you. 

—

You’re lying in Steve’s bed, unable to sleep. The clock reads two, and all you can do is stare out his window at the stars against the night sky. 

“I’ll sleep downstairs. You can sleep in my bed, or one of the guest rooms if you want. Just come and get me if you need anything,” he had told you. 

You weren’t expecting to sleep with him, of course, but being in his bed without him, smelling him on the sheets, is purgatory. 

You think about him spending the night on the couch. Maybe he’s sprawled out, maybe curled up with Goose, maybe still awake, watching TV. 

You decide to put an end to your suffering, throwing the blankets off of you for better or for worse. 

You find him downstairs, sleeping on the couch with a quilt over him and Goose sleeping at his feet. You step on a creaky floorboard, and he awakens instantly, opening his eyes and pushing himself up. 

“It’s just me, sorry,” you say softly, wrapping your arms around yourself. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, voice deep and raspy. 

“Yeah, I just… wanted to see you. I can’t sleep,” you admit.

He looks up at you for a moment, taking in your face like he’s studying you. Then, he pulls the blanket to the side, like he might get up, but holds it there. An invitation. 

Wordlessly, you slip in beside him, your back to his chest, his warmth wrapping around you. 

It’s better. So much better. His hand sliding down your bare arm, his warm breath on your neck, his firm body against yours are all like drugs, easing your pain instantly. 

“This okay?” he whispers, thumb stroking your elbow. 

“More than okay,” you respond, relaxing further into him. 

You fall asleep to the sound of his steady breathing and his firm hold around you. 

—

When Steve wakes up, you’re not in his arms anymore. He sits up, groaning softly. He’s hard again. Fuck. He hopes you were gone before that happened, or maybe you just didn’t notice. 

He hears you in the kitchen moving around, but decides to go to the bathroom and remedy his situation before greeting you. He pees and brushes his teeth until his erection has gone down enough, though he knows it might come back soon if he’s not careful. 

“Did you sleep okay?” He turns the corner to the kitchen, where you’re spreading butter on a piece of toast. 

“Really well, actually. You?” You bite into the toast. 

“Yeah. Same here.” He’s behind you, but you can hear the smile in his voice. You turn, leaning against the counter. 

“You want coffee?” he asks, and reaches into the cabinet above your head for a mug. The proximity makes you blush, and you shake your head. 

You eat your toast, watching him prepare his coffee with the precision of a thirty-something-year-old man. 

“So, I have to go meet Robin at the store. Do you want me to drop you off at home? Or you can stay here. Look through my closet some more,” he nods toward the stairs, and you laugh.   

“You can take me home, if you don’t mind. I need to shower. And call my mom.”

“Of course, no problem.” He leans back against the sink, sipping his steaming coffee. “How do you feel this morning?”

“I feel better. I can work tonight,” you say, and he frowns immediately. 

“You’re not working tonight. I’m working. Nice try.” He sets his coffee down. If you think you’re getting anywhere near the store, you’re crazy. 

“Steve,” you sigh. “I need the money. I can do it.” 

“Your check will be the same,” he shrugs innocently, and your eyes widen. 

“What? No. That’s the last thing I want. That’s… special treatment, it’s wrong.” 

“You are special,” he meets your eyes, his soft and inviting, “but I would do this for all of my employees.” 

His words make you upset more than anything, and your eyes snap away from his to the sink, a drop of water falling from the faucet every few seconds. 

“Would you spoon all of your employees, too?” you ask, emboldened by your anger. 

“No,” he replies quickly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—that was… inappropriate. I thought I was making you feel better.” 

Tears burn your eyes, hot and ready to spill over. Is that all it was? Him, just making you feel better? 

“I’m sorry. Please don’t cry,” Steve pleads, his hand coming up to wipe away your tears gently. 

“What is this, to you?” you whisper. “Am I just like, some dumb girl throwing myself at you? Are you hanging out with me because you feel bad for me? Is it-”

“No, no. It’s not that. At all.” He shakes his head. “I- I wanted to talk about this, but then… last night, and it wasn’t the right time.” 

You hang on his words, wanting more. He senses it, and takes a deep breath before speaking again. 

“I… get this feeling when I’m around you. Something I haven’t felt in years. And, it’s really confusing. Because it’s… not right,” he breathes. 

“And I know you know that. I mean, I’m your boss. I’m a decade older than you. What would your parents think? What would the town think?” 

He’s still holding your face, wiping your tears as they come. 

“I want to be with you. More than anything. But… it’s an ethical impossibility.” 

You only nod, leaning into his touch. 

“And I’m sorry. I let it go too far. It won’t happen again.” 

“What if I wanted it to happen again?” you retort, looking up into his eyes. “Would you… kiss me?” You step closer to him, face inches from his now. 

He stares down at you, eyes full of both desire and reservation. “Would you want me to?” he murmurs, lips practically brushing yours. 

“Yes,” you whisper, closing the distance. His nose nudges yours, and he closes his eyes as you part your lips, waiting for him to kiss you. But he doesn’t. 

He tilts his head and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, then another, then another, until he’s whispering, “I’m sorry,” in your ear and pulling your body against his. 

You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as he strokes your hair like he did last night. It feels final. Like this is the last time you’ll ever touch him. 

—

“So… how was last night?” Robin asks, noticing the guilty look on Steve’s face. 

He piles all of the papers on his desk together, shuffling them into a stack and refusing to meet her eyes.

“Well… you were right. I let it go too far,” he swallows, clearly dejected.

“What happened?”

“She was sleeping in my bed. I was on the couch. She came down in the middle of the night and told me she couldn’t sleep. So… I just held her. And we slept. That’s all.” 

“Okay. That’s not as bad as I thought, I have to admit,” says Robin. “Are you gonna talk to her?”

“I did. This morning. It was horrible.” He rubs his face with his hands. 

“Horrible how?” she probes. “Did she hit you?” 

He shakes his head. “I wish she had. She asked me to kiss her.”

“Did you?”

“Not… really?” he sighs, as if he’s not sure himself. 

“So what happened after?” 

“I took her home. And we said goodbye. We promised to keep things professional… I cried. She cried. It was awful.” 

He stands, dropping all of the papers into a box with a thud. “Now,” he sighs deeply, “she’s been traumatized and rejected in twelve hours.” 

“I’m sorry, Steve. I… don’t know what to say.” Robin stands there helplessly. 

“It’s not your fault. I just wanna be alone, if you don’t mind.” 

“No, not at all,” she shakes her head and exits the office, closing the door behind her. 

—

You roll over, checking the time. According to the clock, you’ve been in bed, alternating between crying and napping for over twenty-four hours, still wearing Steve’s clothes. 

Your parents are coming home today, and you know it’s time to get up and be a big girl—so when you hear the phone ringing for the third time in a row, you stretch your muscles and walk over to the phone. 

“Hello?” you answer, voice weak from sobbing and sleeping. 

“Hey. I’ve been calling. Are you… okay?” Steve’s voice sounds worried.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Are you okay?”

He wasn’t expecting you to ask that. 

“Yeah. I’m okay,” he responds. 

“So… what’s up?” you ask, eager to hear what he has to say. 

“Nothing. I mean, I just wanted to check on you. Hear your voice.” 

You groan. “Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“You said you wanted to keep things professional.”

“I do,” he insists. 

“Well, calling me and telling me you just wanted to hear my voice is not professional. At all.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, quieter. 

“It’s okay. I wanted to hear your voice, too.” 

A moment of silence. 

“So,” you start again, “can I work tonight?” 

“I’m already working.” 

“Are you there now?” 

“Yes.” 

“So you’re working from six to eight?” 

“Yes.”

“Let me come in. You’re gonna want the help,” you plead. You can’t sit back and let him give you money. And you can’t bear to face your parents and tell them what happened. 

“You can come in at two. Only if you’re sure you’re ready.” 

“I am,” you say, thankful for the bone he’s throwing you. 

—

When you get to work, you immediately look for Steve. You know it’s incredibly messy, but it’s okay to look, right? As long as you don’t touch. 

He looks incredible—stubble growing thicker on his face, jeans that fit him just right, and a polo you recognize from his closet—green with yellow stripes. 

You look good, too. You’re wearing your favorite jeans and a black long-sleeve with a low cut and lace around the edges. 

“Hey,” he smiles, physically straining to avoid looking you up and down. He can see the lace in his peripheral vision, and it’s driving him crazy. 

“Hey yourself,” you respond, finding a home behind the register. 

“I’m just gonna go in the office and get some paperwork done. We have a new hire. Are you gonna be good out here?” 

“Yeah, I’m good. Who’s the new hire?” 

“Uh, I haven’t met him yet. Ryan, something.” 

“Hmm. I went to school with a Ryan. I wonder if it’s him.” 

“Well, he’ll be here soon, and you can see for yourself.” He heads for the office, and you swear he smirks at you before he tears his eyes away.

When Ryan arrives, it is, in fact, the boy you knew in high school. And, you sort of lied to Steve. Well, kept something from him. But it’s not anything a boss would need to know. 

You and Ryan slept together in high school. You met in history class, bonded in the library, and hooked up in the back of his car. It became a regular thing—every Thursday, after school. But you stopped when you went to college. 

“Ryan, hey,” you smile, and he immediately pulls you in for a hug. He feels familiar, but stronger than before. 

“I haven’t seen you in so long. You work here?” He grins.

“Yeah, it’s great. You’ll love it. Here comes the boss man.” You nod toward Steve, and Ryan extends his hand. 

“Hi.” 

“Ryan, right?” Steve asks, shaking Ryan’s hand firmly. “You two know each other?”

“Yeah, we went to school together,” you respond, looking at Steve before flashing Ryan a knowing look. 

Steve must notice because he narrows his eyes and pulls Ryan into his office. 

Half an hour later, Ryan emerges, immediately grabbing a box from the back room to stock the shelves. 

“He’s really putting you to work, huh?” you ask, kneeling beside him to help. 

“Yeah. He’s terrifying,” Ryan mumbles. 

“He’s not all that bad. He’s probably just in a mood because the store was robbed.”

“Robbed?” His eyes widen. 

“Yeah… I was here. It was bad.” 

“Wow. I’m sorry. You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good now,” you nod, smiling over at him and grabbing a few tapes. 

—

At the end of the night, Steve tells Ryan that he’s good to go five minutes before close. Ryan obliges and looks over at you, nodding. “Later.” 

Steve sets his face, staring Ryan down as he leaves and gets in his car. 

“Can I see you in my office?” He asks, unplugging the neon sign and locking the door. 

“Yes, sir,” you tease, and he rolls his eyes. 

He opens the door for you and, to your surprise, shuts it behind you. “Is this… serious?”

“No,” he responds. “I just wanted to see how your first day back felt.” 

“It felt like… my boss was jealous,” you hum. 

“Jealous? Of what?” 

“Come on, Steve. You know what. Why were you so mean to him?” 

“I wasn’t mean. I was just showing him who’s in charge,” he states, that innocent cocky look on his face. 

You raise your eyebrows, leaning against his desk. He’s still by the door, but it’s a small office, and he’s close enough for you to smell his cologne. You should have stolen that while you had the chance.  

“Are you gonna go out with him?”

“What’s it to you?” you ask, more playful than angry.

“I’m just… curious,” he shrugs. “Relationships between employees are discouraged.” 

Asshole. 

“I might. He’s a good kisser.” You mock his innocent tone. 

Steve scoffs. 

“So you are jealous. Admit it.” You poke his sternum with your finger.

He steps closer to you, your hand flattening against his chest. “I am. I can’t help it.” 

“Why not?” You grab a fistful of his shirt, pulling him even closer. 

“Because…” He finally gives you a good look, eyes fanning over your body. “I can’t stop thinkin’ about you.” 

Heat pools deep in your stomach at his words as he meets your eyes. “Are you gonna do something about it?” you taunt, inches away from him now. 

He leans in close enough for you to part your lips, to close your eyes in preparation for the kiss you’ve been waiting so long for. “Something like what?” he whispers, his lips grazing yours. 

“Steve,” you sigh softly into his mouth. “Kiss me. Please.”

You’re not sure why you want him to kiss you so badly, when you could have pressed your lips to his at any point. Maybe you’re scared he’ll reject you again. 

He doesn’t.

He closes the gap, slotting his lips between yours and finally kissing you. Soft, slow kisses at first, his fingers threading into your hair. 

You run your hands over his shoulders, opening your mouth more for him when he slides his tongue along your lip. 

The kiss grows hungrier, and his hands find the back of your thighs, lifting you onto the desk. You feel his stapler digging into your ass, but you don’t care when he’s kissing you like this. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles on your lips, his hand sliding under your vest to find your waist. 

His kisses migrate to your jaw, and you let your head fall back, exposing your neck to him. 

“Steve,” you moan as his lips trail down your neck, sending electricity through you. 

As his mouth explores your neck, you touch him everywhere you can, finally able to feel him the way you’ve wanted. You squeeze his biceps and play with his hair, ultimately slipping a hand into his back pocket to keep him close. 

He kisses the column of your throat, your chin, your lips, your nose, everywhere—at least a hundred kisses over your face and neck, and you’re drunk on him. 

He pulls away to look at you, your lips wet, face flushed, chest heaving. 

“Did you get what you wanted?” He licks his lips. 

“Not yet,” you say, and reach for his belt buckle, dipping your fingers beneath his waistband. His mouth opens, a strangled sound coming out, but he grabs your hand and withdraws it. 

“Not here.” He intertwines your fingers. 

“Why not?” you press, giving him your best sex eyes. 

He smirks, shaking his head. “You’re bad.”

“So, show me who’s in charge,” you repeat his earlier words, and his eyes darken. He grabs your hair and kisses you again, hot and rough against your mouth. 

He pulls away just as quickly, a strand of spit extending and breaking between you. 

“Do you need a ride home?” 

Your mouth opens and closes. “What? You’re serious?” 

“I’m a gentleman.” He pulls you off the desk, fixing your vest for you. “And I wanna take you out, first.” 

“Take me out where? You can’t exactly… take me anywhere.” 

He frowns. “You’re not my mistress.” 

“But I’m your employee,” you point out. 

“So… quit,” he suggests, too casual for your liking. 

“Quit?” you scoff, brushing off your vest. 

“Listen, I know it’s not ideal. Nothing about this–” he motions between you, “–is ideal. But if you want us to be together, then something has to give.” 

“So why don’t you give?” You fold your arms. 

“You want me to quit the store that I own?” 

You stew in silence, huffing out of your nose. “I… guess not,” you mutter. 

“Look, don’t quit if you don’t want to. But if money is the issue, I–”

“Don’t throw money at me right now. I don’t want it.” 

“Okay. I’m sorry,” he sighs, his strong hand finding your shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I just wanna be with you. If you want to sneak around, let’s do it. Just not at work. Please.” 

You nod, bringing your hand up to wipe his chin with your thumb. “You need to shave. Think you scratched me.” 

His lips turn up, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “Noted.”

—

Your head rests on your mom’s lap, tear tracks long dried on your face as she strokes your hair. “I’m so sorry, honey. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

You’ve just finished telling her everything about the robbery, making sure to leave out everything involving Steve, only referring to him as your boss when absolutely necessary. 

“I was just scared…” you admit, looking up at her. 

“I don’t want you working there anymore. It’s not safe.”

“It’s safe, Mom. It was… an isolated incident.” 

“Nothing is isolated,” she presses. “Please.” 

You sigh. You do feel safe at Family Video regardless of everything that’s happened, and you love working there. But your mother’s suggestion presents the perfect excuse for quitting and being with Steve. 

“I’ll think about it. I promise.” You squeeze her hand, rewarded with a worried look. 

—

You take an extra-long shower, preparing yourself for everything tonight may have in store. You put on your nicest pair of underwear, a deep red, and forgo the bra beneath your favorite dress. You spray extra perfume and rub lotion into your skin, even putting on a little makeup for Steve.  

You told your parents that you’re watching your boss’s dog, but in truth, you don’t know what he has planned. 

When the phone rang earlier, you ran from your room to answer it, knowing it was him. “Hello?” you answered, all smiley. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, his voice low. 

“Are you at the store?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, “So I have to make this quick. Are you up for a first date tonight?”

“With Tom Cruise?” Mock excitement filled your voice. 

He chuckled on the other end of the line. “I’ll bring the shades. I know they turn you on.” 

Steve had told you to wear whatever and bring your toothbrush. A sleepover, you thought, and that’s what led you to the hours-long getting-ready session. 

When you pull up to Steve’s house, he’s waiting outside for you with a blanket under his arm and a bag in his hand. “You must be the angel I ordered.” He leans down to kiss your face. 

You blush, pulling him back down for a lengthier kiss. 

“So, where are you taking me?” You stroke his jaw, appreciating how clean-shaven he is. 

“Just a little place I know… in my backyard. Don’t worry. It’s romantic.” 

He leads you through the grass, stopping at the highest point and laying down the blanket. The two of you sit together, and he opens the mystery bag to reveal a bottle of wine and two glasses, neatly wrapped in cloth. 

“Fancy,” you comment, holding out the glasses for him as he pops the bottle and pours some in. 

“You’ll like this one. It’s bubbly, like you.” He clinks his glass against yours. 

“Cheers,” you gaze into his eyes for a moment before sipping the sweet, fizzy wine. 

Soon enough, you’re both on your second glass, and Steve has your legs slung over his, a firm hand stroking your thigh. “So… when you first met me, what did you think?” 

“I thought you were sexy.” You look up at him over your wine glass, sipping it. “And mysterious.” 

He hums, considering your words. “What about now?” 

“Still sexy. Still mysterious,” you answer.

“Yeah? What do you wanna know?” He squeezes your thigh. 

“Why aren’t you married?” you inquire, and he laughs. 

“Well, I haven’t asked you yet,” he responds smoothly. 

You roll your eyes, face heating up again. “You’re ridiculous. How many girls have you dated?” 

His face stills, like he’s trying to count them all. “A lot,” he resolves. “Mostly in my twenties. I haven’t really dated in years.”

“Why not?” 

“I dunno. I guess I just got used to being on my own after a while.” 

“Did you… ever date Robin?” The question has been on the tip of your tongue for weeks, but you’re only now comfortable enough to ask. 

He laughs. “No. Robin’s gay.” 

Your mouth falls open. “What? Seriously?” 

“Mhm.” He sips his wine. 

“So, she and Vickie–”

“Not best friends.” He shakes his head. “They tell people that, y’know, before they get to know them.”

“Wow. The more you know,” you shrug, finishing your wine. He takes your glass and lays it beside his, hand returning to your thigh a second later. 

“Have I told you how pretty you look tonight?” His eyes are soft, sultry, and his hand slides up your leg, under the fabric of your dress. 

“Laying on the moves, are we?” Your hand finds his neck, bringing him down to kiss you. 

“Is it working?” he murmurs into your mouth, and you moan softly in response. 

He kisses down to your neck, and you’re hoping he’ll kiss you all over again like he did in the office, when Goose barks loudly from inside the house. 

Steve ignores it initially, dragging his lips over your collarbone, but it starts to kill the mood. He pulls away begrudgingly. “C’mon. Wanna let Goose out? I’ll meet you in there.” 

You nod and let him pull you to your feet, kissing you once more before letting you go. 

Goose runs out of the glass door as soon as you walk in, stopping for only a moment to sniff you. 

Steve enters a moment later, dropping the bag and blanket by the door and beelining for you. “Where were we?” His hands find your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest. 

“Oh, you were kissing my neck and telling me how pretty I am,” you remind him, and he licks his lips. 

“Right, I remember.” He pulls your hair to the side, his mouth hot on your neck. “Like this?”

“Mmm, yeah,” you encourage, pressing your hips back against him. His teeth graze across your skin, hands roaming your waist. 

“Wanna spend the night with me?” He hooks his chin over your shoulder, wrapping his arms around you protectively. 

You nod, covering his hands with yours. “Please.”

“Y’don’t have to say please, baby. I’m gonna give you what you want,” he whispers in your ear, sending chills up your body. “Why don’t you go upstairs and wait for me?” 

You obey him, escaping his grip with one last kiss. 

His room is familiar, and your body buzzes with anticipation as you sit on his bed. You can feel how wet you already are, what with all of the kissing and teasing that’s led up to this. 

If he doesn’t fuck you tonight, you think you’ll explode. 

He enters the room, kicking off his shoes. “C’mere,” he motions you over, and you stand in front of him. 

“Turn around.” He squeezes your hip, and you do. You’re faced with your reflection in his mirror. “Watch yourself.” 

You watch his reflection instead as he pushes the strap of your dress off your shoulder, replacing it with his lips. “Can I take this off?” he asks, and you nod. 

He pushes off the other strap, and the dress falls down, pooling around your waist and exposing your tits. He grabs a handful of one, staring you down in the mirror. “So perfect,” he whispers. 

You shimmy the dress all the way off, and it drops to the floor, exposing the ornate lace that you wore for him. “Fuck,” he groans, the sound turning you on more. 

“Do you like them? I wore them for you.” You reach back, tangling your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“You look so sexy.” He cups you over your underwear. “Tell me what feels good, baby.” 

His fingers brush over you, giving your clit a bit of much-needed friction. “Oh, right there,” you keen, and he concentrates his motions there, rubbing small circles over you.  

“God, you’re wet. Do you always get this wet? Or is it all for me?”

You only whine, throwing your head back against his shoulder, too embarrassed to answer. 

“Keep your eyes on the mirror. Watch what I’m doing to you.” His free hand grabs your jaw, tilting your chin down so you can see yourself. 

He rubs your clit faster now, your panties pulled to the side and leaving you exposed. The sight is obscene—Steve’s fingers going to work on you, his mouth hanging open as he stares shamelessly. 

“Steve,” you moan. 

“Yeah, baby?” He presses into you now, his impressive length hard against your back.

“You’re overdressed–” your sentence is punctuated with a gasp, Steve’s fingers circling your entrance. He dips them in, watching your eyes flutter closed. 

“Yeah? Want me to take my clothes off?” 

You try to tell him yes, try to gather the will to turn in his arms and undress him yourself. But all you can focus on is his fingers inside you, stroking your sweet spot while the heel of his palm grinds on your clit. 

“I-yes! Oh, fuck, Steve,” you pant, and you hear how wet you are, squelching loudly against his hand. The sound embarrasses you, but it only seems to turn Steve on more. 

When you’re so close you can taste it, writhing against him, he withdraws his fingers slowly and brings them straight to his mouth, cleaning them off. “You taste so sweet. Knew you would,” he smirks. 

You turn in his arms, looking up at him with big eyes, wet with desire. No man has ever done that before—licked your juices off his own fingers. “Stop,” you blush. “That’s… gross.”

“It’s not gross.” He holds his hands up. “I’m about to go down there, so I might as well get a taste,” he smirks, hands finding your waist again. 

“You… want to go down on me?” You look up at him, confused.  

“Is that okay?” He slides a thumb into the side of your underwear, pulling it away from you and letting it snap back. 

“Yes. I just normally… have to ask,” you admit, and Steve groans. 

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to ask for anything,” he whispers on your neck between kisses, laying you down on his bed. “You comfortable?” 

You nod, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it up as far as you can without his help. His fingers replace yours, throwing the shirt over his head. 

His body is strong, firm, his chest coated in thick, dark hair, which you run your fingers through. “I like this,” you comment, and he only smirks up at you as he lowers himself between your legs. 

He grabs the gusset of your panties, pulling them down and getting an eyeful of you. “I’m keeping these,” he declares, tossing them onto his nightstand. He pulls each of your thighs to rest on his shoulders and finally leans down, licking a broad stripe up your heat. 

Your fingers find his hair almost immediately, pulling him closer as his mouth works you over. His tongue flattens and swirls against you, lapping at your clit, dipping into your entrance. 

When you first met Steve, you never expected he’d be between your legs, eating your pussy like a man starved. You’ve imagined it, sure. Doesn’t every girl fantasize about her boss? But you weren’t expecting him to be such a generous lover. 

You thought that if something ever happened between you and him, it would be rushed and messy—maybe in the office, maybe in the car, like you’ve grown used to over the years. 

But here he is, and there’s nothing rushed or messy about it, save for your slick coating his face. 

His mouth explores you, licking and sucking your clit, all while kneading your thighs, squeezing the plush skin beneath his fingers. 

“Steve, holy shit,” you moan, pulling his hair a little harder. 

He delves deeper into you, tongue keeping a steady rhythm, lighting all your nerves on fire. 

You whine and gasp, loud in the empty room, rolling your hips against his face. 

“I’m gonna come,” you announce, voice wrecked. He doesn’t falter, continuing exactly what he’s doing to you until your orgasm finds you.

It starts deep in your gut, spreading outward, inviting goosebumps to your arms as you arch against him, crying out his name. 

He helps you come down, peppering kisses inside your thighs as you clench around nothing. 

“Fuck, Steve,” you sigh, letting your body relax against the mattress. 

His kisses don’t stop. They work up your body slowly, over your stomach, your tits, your neck, until he’s face-to-face with you. “Still think I’m gross?” His nose nudges yours like he wants to kiss you. 

“No,” you respond, pulling his lips to yours and tasting yourself. You moan into his mouth, and he pulls away, looking sly. 

“Taste good, don’t you baby?” 

You turn your head to the side, nodding shyly, and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck. 

“I wanna fuck you so bad,” he mumbles, lips wet on your skin. “Do you want that?” 

“Yes, Steve, god,” you wrap your legs around him, pulling him impossibly closer. “Wanted you to fuck me weeks ago.” 

He kisses you once, twice, then pulls away, sitting up. “You’ve been so patient. You know, I really had to hold myself back in the office.” He unbuckles his belt and pulls it from the loops, tossing it to the floor with a loud clink. 

You sit up, bracing your arms on the bed and watching his movements closely as he unbuttons his jeans. He stands to remove them, and you kneel on the bed in front of him, pulling him to stand in front of you. 

You let your hand slide down his chest, rubbing over his length through his boxers. 

“You’re so big.” You wrap your fingers around him, and he leans into your touch. You knew he was big, of course, because after the two of you slept together on the couch, he was hard against you when you woke up. 

“Can you take it, babe?” Cockiness dances over his features as you drag his boxers down, freeing his hard cock. 

Babe. You like when he calls you that. It’s so domestic, so comfortable, yet condescending all the while. 

You nod as you stroke him slowly, dragging your thumb across his tip until his eyes are fluttering shut and his breathing grows heavier. 

“Okay–stop,” he breathes, grabbing your wrist. 

“What’s wrong?” You look up at him, worried. 

“Nothing. You’re perfect. I just… It’s, um, been a while. And I don’t want to come all over you right now.” He looks embarrassed, and it’s cute. 

“Where do you wanna come?” You press your chest to his, trapping his cock against your stomach.

He doesn’t answer you, just whispers your name, pulling you in for a searing kiss. He presses you back into the mattress, arms caging you in. 

Wordlessly, you reach down and grab his cock again, rubbing the tip between your folds. His brows furrow in pure concentration, looking down at where your bodies meet. 

“Hold on, baby.” He presses a kiss to the side of your mouth, reaching into his nightstand for a condom. 

“How old is that?” you tease, and he tears it open with his teeth, rolling his eyes. 

“I just bought them today.” 

“You can wear it if you want,” you bite your lip, still rubbing his thick head against your clit. “But I’m on the pill.” 

The condom falls beside your head, forgotten as he kisses you again, and you bring him down to where you want him, his cock finally pushing into you just enough to bring a whine from your lips. 

He pushes into you deeper, and you clench around him uncontrollably, babbling nonsense in his ear. 

“I- Steve, oh fuck, please.” 

You feel full. So full. When you look down, though, he’s not even all the way in yet. 

“Still good?” he murmurs, rubbing your clit with his thumb. 

“Uh huh,” you whine, tensing under him then relaxing, allowing him to bottom out. 

“You feel so good. So wet for me.” His hair falls over his forehead, tickling his brow. 

“Fuck me, please,” you beg, hands on his back to pull him deeper. 

He watches your face as he pulls back slowly before bottoming out again, beginning a steady rhythm. You’re so wet you can hear yourself between the moans and the low creak of the bed. 

He’s only thrusted into you a dozen times before you start to get close again, gripping his shoulders and crying out. 

“Oh, fuck, yes. Steve, oh—so deep, ‘m gonna come again.”

“Yeah? Gonna come on my cock already, baby? So needy, so neglected,” he coos, “Just needed someone to take care of you, huh? Just needed to get fucked?” 

His words are brutal and spot on. “Ah, yes–fuck!” you cry, and gush over him, tightening around him repeatedly. He works you through it just like the first one, kissing your jaw and easing his hips to a stop. 

“So sexy,” he kisses your nose sweetly, like he’s not buried inside of you. “Wanna keep going?” 

You nod, and he slips out of you, needing a reprieve from your wet heat. 

“How do you like it?” he asks, his cock resting against your stomach. “Like this? Do you wanna be on top?” 

“Like this,” you reply, rolling over onto your stomach and looking back at him over your shoulder. You arch your back, ass up in the air for him. 

His hand runs down your back, coming to rest on your ass. “I knew you were bad.” he kisses your shoulder, his cock against your thigh. “You want me to fuck you into the bed?” 

God, he’s good. No one has ever spoken to you like this in bed before, and you know it’ll undo you completely. 

“Yeah,” you reply, pulling your lip between your teeth as you lay your head down, arching further into him. 

“Are you gonna come for me again?” he whispers into your ear, and you feel his cock pressing into you again, insistent. 

You nod, sighing in pleasure as he sinks into you. 

“You feel so good, baby,” he mumbles into your shoulder, his hips still against yours. He stays like that, littering kisses over your back, shoulders, and neck, and you can feel every inch of him like this. 

“Steve,” you moan. You try to say something else, but you instantly forget, only sputtering as he starts thrusting into you. 

Your fingers curl into his bedding, knuckles turning white as he hits every incredible spot inside you. 

Wet sounds decorate the room again, slow and rhythmic with his thrusts. 

You take a moment to gather yourself, to wrap your mind around the fact that Steve is really fucking you. You’re finally getting what you wanted, and it couldn’t be better.

“You want more?” he mumbles into your neck, pulling you out of your own mind, and you nod, a strangled whine ringing out in the room. 

He takes your wrists from the bed, one at a time, and presses them into your back, pinning you down and delivering a single sharp thrust. You cry out in response, and he rewards you with another. 

“Ah–Steve, fuck!”

“You like that? Feel me?” he grunts, drilling you into the mattress. 

“Yes, I–god, Steve, I feel you. S-so deep,” you stutter out, and you can feel the smirk radiating off his face. 

With every deep thrust, he bullies a spot inside of you that makes you see stars. All you can do is moan and try to breathe, but he’s making that hard for you. 

When you let your head fall against the bed, unable to hold it up anymore, he drops your hands and slows his thrusts, pulling your hair to the side to kiss your shoulder again. 

“You okay, baby?” 

“Yes, I-I’m good, please don’t stop,” you beg weakly, pushing your hips back against his. 

He must like the view, because he stalls his hips completely and lets you fuck yourself on him. 

“Fuck,” he moans, voice wrecked. 

“Steve,” you whine, and he knows what you want. His thrusts begin again, a bit messier but still delicious as he braces his hands on the mattress. 

You let your arms stretch out in front of you as you feel your orgasm build, bending and ready to burst. 

He’s so deep you can taste him, and his balls slap against your clit, sticky from your arousal. He hears your moans getting louder, feels you grow tighter around him, and quickens his pace. 

You reach for him, gripping his forearm to steady yourself as you come, unannounced—but he knows. He can feel you clench around him, soak his length, dig your nails into his arm, and it’s all too much for him. 

He comes inside you with a long, breathy groan, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. 

His breath is hot against your back as he pants, stilling completely. 

You breathe with him, turning your head to the side so he can capture your lips in a long, soft kiss. 

He slides out of you slowly, rolling over to slump beside you. He smiles, his ridiculously straight teeth shining over at you. 

“That’s a big smile, Harrington. You get lucky?” You sling your arm over his chest, kissing his arm. 

“The luckiest,” he responds, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your fingertips. 

“So, do you think this is gonna make things awkward at work?” you tease, drawing a dry laugh from him. 

“Screw work. I’m never leaving this bed.” He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. 

“You’re not? Because I was gonna ask if you wanted to shower with me. But I guess I can shower alone,” you fake a sigh, pushing yourself up to escape his grasp. 

“No way,” he springs up from the bed, pulling you with him. 

In the shower, Steve pampers you with his expensive-smelling products, taking extra time to kiss over the skin he’s washed. 

He grows half hard against your back as he washes your hair—he’s only a man, after all. He doesn’t act on it though, apologizing into the steam as he strokes your hair under the water. 

When you’re dry, you change into a ratty t-shirt from his closet and boxers from his dresser, climbing into bed with him. 

“I like it when you wear my clothes,” he hums into your neck as he spoons you. 

“I like wearing your clothes,” you reply, voice tired.

boss!steve is my new fixation

how long would you guys want parts to be... i'm imagining the final wordcount being somewhere from 15k-30k so maybe three parts???

boss! steve who bought the family video store x college student(?) reader

i lowkey want to make it a slowburn because slowburns are my absolute favorites to read and i have yet to write a multi-chapter fic

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female! Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Smut (18+), P in V sex (unprotected), praise kink, softdom! Steve (kinda), possessive/jealous! Steve, begging, coming inside, oral (both receiving), LMK if I missed anything!!!

A/N: It’s been a month since I posted something, and I’ve been working on this really sporadically. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me know if there’s anything you wanna see; I would love to hear from any readers or followers!!!! Thank you sm for all of the likes and reblogs! I hope you like this one!!!! 

“Are you almost ready, babe?” Steve calls lovingly from the bedroom, flipping through a magazine. You’ve already told him that you only need five more minutes twice. 

He’s learned to be very patient with you, keeping a stash of reading material in a milk crate under your bed. 

The door swings open and he straightens up, tossing the magazine on the bed. 

“I just need my shoes,” you respond, walking out of the bathroom with a smile. “How do I look?” You stand in front of him, spinning around to give him the full view. 

Steve’s eyes rake over your form. “You look so–” he grips your thighs and pulls you to stand between his legs, “–damn good,” he finishes. 

His fingers brush under the denim of your skirt, stroking your thigh as he looks up at you with his signature bedroom eyes. “What’s underneath?” 

You take both of his hands in yours and set them on his knees, leaning forward enough for him to get a good view of your tits in your sparkly top. 

“That’s for you to find out.” You kiss him softly, teasingly, then pull away abruptly. “Later.” 

He says nothing, just rubs his lips together with a smirk, tasting your lip gloss. He stands with you, grabbing your jacket as you put on your shoes. 

“Such a gentleman,” you comment as he helps you put the jacket on, kissing your cheek. 

—

At the bar, you meet up with a few friends. You’re there to see a band perform–Eddie’s “friend” is the lead guitarist, and you have a sneaking suspicion they’re hooking up. 

“It’s not a thing,” he reminds you and Robin when you arrive. “Okay?’

You nod affirmatively. 

“Not a thing. Got it,” echoes Robin, who sports a devious grin. 

“Ugh, I’m serious, Rob,” Eddie groans. “Please don’t embarrass me.” 

“I’m not embarrassing! Am I embarrassing?” Robin turns to you. 

You look between them, holding your hands up in surrender. “Leave me out of it,” you laugh. 

Steve arrives at your side, holding a beer for himself and a pink-ish cocktail for you. Saved by the bell, you think.  

“Thank you.” You take the drink from him, sipping it as his hand falls to rest above your hip.

“Is it good?” He squeezes your waist, watching your reaction. 

You nod happily. You told him to just get you “whatever,” and it’s delicious. 

Eddie and Robin have wandered away to get closer to the band, leaving you and Steve on the outskirts of the crowd. “So, Eddie and the drummer...?” Steve prompts. 

“The lead guitarist,” you correct. “And it’s nothing, according to Eddie. But I have my suspicions.” You cock an eyebrow. 

“Ah, I see. Well, it must be something for him to drag us this far from town.” He looks around. 

The crowd is a mixed bag. Some people you recognize from Hawkins, a few metalheads who must have ridden in on the motorcycles parked outside the bar, and some older couples. Not the place you’d normally choose for a Friday night outing, but not unpleasant. 

“Are you gonna dance with me tonight?” you ask Steve, sliding your hand over his chest. 

“Sure, baby, I’ll dance,” he responds, smiling down at you. Your perfect man. You know he’s not much of a dancer, but he’ll really do anything to keep you happy–especially when he knows he might get lucky. 

Drums begin to thump loudly in the bar, and you know the show is about to start. “C’mon,” you grab Steve’s hand and pull him through the crowd to stand with Eddie and Robin. 

The set is great–much better than you expected, honestly. You, Steve, Robin, and Eddie all dance through it, cheering loudly between songs and refreshing your drinks when you get the chance. Steve switches to water pretty quickly, knowing he’ll end up having to drive everyone home. 

“That was so much fun!” Robin grins when the last song is done, and Eddie nods in agreement. 

“They’re really good, right? I told you guys!” 

Steve’s hand claps Eddie on the back. “They’re no Corroded Coffin, Munson. Don’t worry.” Eddie rolls his eyes. 

Steve turns to you. “I’m gonna find the bathroom, babe. I’ll be right back.” He presses a kiss to your temple and wanders off toward the wooden sign marking the men’s bathroom. 

Eddie makes eye contact with the guitarist and quickly leaves you and Robin in the dust, boots clamoring to cross the floor. 

Robin turns to you, looking mischievous. “I’m gonna go eavesdrop, are you in?” 

You laugh, shaking your head. It sounds like fun, but to stay in Eddie’s good graces, you decide to stay and wait for Steve. 

“Okay. I’m going in.” She turns and heads after Eddie. 

Now, you’re alone. The bar is packed, but a few people start to head out as the band packs up. The taste of your drink lingers in your mouth–vodka, lime, something fizzy, and grenadine, maybe? You’re not sure, but Steve did a good job picking it. 

You glance toward the bathroom to get an ETA on your boyfriend, but no luck. There are at least six guys standing outside, so you assume it’ll be a minute. 

You’re not without company for long, though, because a man approaches you. Not just any man, but the drummer who just performed. He’s tall, slightly sweaty, and dressed in baggy jeans and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. 

He’s quite attractive, actually, and the drumsticks tucked into his belt really sell the look. 

“Hey,” he greets you. “Did you come for the show?” 

You nod. “It was great! I came with my friends and boyfriend. They loved it too.” You find the first opportunity to bring up Steve before the hot drummer can hit on you. 

He doesn’t seem to mind. Just cocks an eyebrow. “Boyfriend, huh? He leave you here all by yourself?”

Cocky, you think.  

“He’s in the bathroom,” you reply, narrowing your eyes. 

He considers this, glancing toward the bathroom. You wonder if he’s trying to figure out which one of the six guys is your boyfriend. “Hmm. So, do you come here a lot?”

“It’s my first time, actually. But it seems cool. Do they have music here a lot?” you ask, nodding toward the stage.

“Wednesdays and Fridays. We play every other Friday. You should come more often,” he leans on the table beside you, a little too close for your liking. 

“Maybe I will, if Steve wants to.” 

“Steve.” The name rolls over his tongue. “Is that your boyfriend? What’s he like?” 

You don’t hesitate. “He’s handsome. And friendly. Charismatic. Funny. The total package.” 

The drummer sighs dramatically. “He sounds like a real Prince Charming.” 

“He is,” you smile. 

“He must be, if he’s dating a girl as pretty as you.”

Across the bar, Steve is finally out of the bathroom, scanning the space for you. He sees you and starts walking over, slipping by people smoothly. When he sees that you’re with some dude he doesn’t know, laughing, he speeds up, pushing past people with far less grace. 

When you feel the heat of Steve behind you, you lean in, beaming. The drummer’s eyes track his hand as it slides across your waist, splaying out on your stomach. You can practically feel the smug smile all over Steve’s face. 

“You must be the boyfriend,” the drummer says with raised eyebrows.  

“I am, and you are?” Steve prompts, his voice friendly–you would kill to see the look on his face, though. 

“Tim,” he replies. “Nice to meet you.” 

Steve nods, and the beat of awkward silence kills you. 

“Tim’s the drummer! In the band!” you exclaim, turning so you can see Steve. 

“Oh yeah?” Steve meets your eyes briefly. “Good job, man, it was great.” 

“Thanks, dude,” Tim says to Steve, but his eyes are on you. “I’m gonna go find the rest of the band. I just had to come over here. It’s not every day you see a beautiful girl alone in a bar.”

His gaze flickers to Steve. “You should really keep a better eye on her, man.” He grins, shooting you a wink, and he’s off. 

—

“Okay, don’t puke on anything,” Steve grunts as he helps Robin into the backseat. “Y’have a few too many?” 

“Yes,” Robin slurs. “Can’t believe Eddie’s getting laid and we’re not.” 

Steve laughs. “Speak for yourself, Rob. Now buckle up.” He closes the door gently after her, leaving the two of you outside the car. 

He lowers his voice, leaning against the passenger’s door. “Don’t invite her to stay over. We’ll bring her home and put her to bed.” 

“Not up for company?” You slide your hand under his jacket, standing up on your toes to kiss him.

“No way.” He pulls you in, hand on the small of your back. His lips move against yours smoothly as he hums into your mouth. “Want you all to myself tonight.”

Then, he pulls away and opens your door. “Get in.”

—

Your body buzzes with anticipation as you unlock your front door, Steve’s presence heavy behind you. “I can’t believe that asshole hit on you,” he murmurs into your neck, hands wandering over your hips. “Not that I blame him. I would’ve done the same thing if I saw you.” 

“You must really like this outfit.” You push the door open and step in, Steve trailing you closely. 

“Oh, I do.” He kneels in front of you, grabbing your ankle gently so he can undo your shoes and pull them off one at a time. 

You rest your hand on his shoulder, loving the sight of him on his knees treating you like a princess. 

He slides his hand slowly up the inside of your leg, from your calf to between your thighs. “Are you gonna show me what’s under, now?” 

You nod, pulling him up to stand in front of you. He captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, shifting your skirt up your hips. You sigh softly into his mouth, tangling your fingers into his hair. 

You gasp when both his hands grab your ass firmly, pulling your hips against his. Then, he’s lifting you up and carrying you to your room. 

Your door slams against the wall when he kicks it open, tossing you on the bed with ease. “Turn around.”

You do as he commands, settling onto your hands and knees. Your skirt is bunched up around your hips, leaving nothing to Steve’s imagination as he takes in the bottom half of the navy blue set you chose to wear tonight. 

He runs his fingers over your panties, brushing your clothed clit and making you keen. 

“Did you like having his attention tonight?” Steve asks in a low voice, still rubbing you over the lace. 

You love when he gets jealous like this. You’ve seen it before–when he took you out to breakfast and you ran into your ex, when a club bouncer hit on you, basically any time a man looked at you in a way he didn’t like. 

And Steve’s not crazy. He never makes a scene, never gets angry with you. Instead, he channels his jealousy, stores it away until he gets you alone. 

“No,” you arch into his touch. 

He tugs your panties to the side, clicking his tongue. “You’re all wet. Is that from him?” He slides his thumb through your folds, gathering the wetness and spreading it around. 

You whine when his thumb rubs over your clit. You shake your head in response to his question, gasping when you feel his hand crack across your ass cheek. 

“No?” he hums. “Who’s it from, then?” 

Oh, he’s playing dirty. You dip your head, arching your back further to try and meet his hand, but he pulls it away with a smirk. “Steve, please.”

In one smooth motion, he flips you onto your back and pulls you to the edge of the bed, still standing over you. You hook your ankle around his hip, bringing him closer. 

“Look at you, babe. So pretty.” He cups your jaw, tilting your head toward him. His fingers brush over your lips and you part them instinctively, sucking his thumb into your mouth and tasting yourself. “Taste so sweet, too.” 

“Steve,” you plead when his thumb escapes your mouth with a wet pop. 

“What, baby? Tell me what you want.” He grips the neckline of your top and pulls it down to reveal your tits. 

“Want you to use your mouth on me,” you mumble, feeling suddenly shy. 

You expect Steve to lower himself dutifully between your legs, to use his delicious tongue on you like he has so many times before, but he doesn’t. 

Instead, he laughs. “You want my mouth, baby?” 

You nod quickly, clutching his shirt. “Please. Been thinking about it since before we left.” 

“Yeah?” A smirk creeps across his face at how utterly needy you are for him. “Then get on your knees and show me how bad you want it.” 

You waste no time, sliding off the bed and onto your knees. Steve doesn’t usually order you around like this, but you can’t say you don’t like it. He watches your face with blazing eyes as you undo his belt swiftly. 

You work on pushing his jeans down as he pulls off his jacket and throws it to the side. His cock springs free when you tug his boxers down, and you wrap your hand around the base, licking up the shaft. 

He sighs in pleasure, his hand finding the nape of your neck. “Spit on it.” 

You do as he says, gathering spit in your mouth and letting it fall on the head of his cock, pumping him to coat his length. 

“Good girl. Open up.” 

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, letting him slap his tip against it a few times. You wrap your lips around him, swirling your tongue as you stroke what’s not in your mouth. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” Steve groans. His eyes close momentarily, but come back to focus on you. A few times, you look up at him to make eye contact, and he looks very satisfied to see you on your knees. 

You really start to take him in, opening your throat as much as you can and drooling on his cock. 

He huffs and moans and curses, his fingers threading through your hair. “Fuck, you look so good like this.” 

You catch his eyes eagerly, bobbing your head faster at the praise. 

“Ah- fuck, babe. You’re mine, got it?” 

You moan around him in response, and his grip on your hair tightens, guiding your head just enough. 

When he starts to get loud and knows your knees are aching, he pulls you off of him by your hair. 

Gasping for breath, you sit back on your knees. Spit coats his length, the dark hair at the base of his cock dampened. “Did so good for me, baby. Think it’s time I return the favor?” 

You barely try to suppress your grin, taking his hands as he pulls you up. 

Your disheveled clothes are quickly torn off, courtesy of Steve. He lays you on the bed, the soft comforter tickling your bare skin as he throws his shirt off. 

Lowering himself between your legs, he litters kisses over your stomach, thighs, and down your calf. He’s working you up, teasing you like he normally does, but that’s not what you want. 

You need his mouth on you–you’re dripping just from giving him head. But you know that you’ll have to beg to get what you want. 

“Please, Steve.” You reach to make contact with any part of him you can, grazing his shoulder. 

“You’re needy tonight, babe. What’s got you all worked up?” he mumbles into your thigh, his lips hot against you. 

“You,” you respond, threading your fingers into his hair. You’re rewarded with a long, slow lick to your clit. 

His tongue is sinful against you, making you keen instantly. And he looks so good doing it–hair pushed up off his face, brows furrowed as he continues his ministrations. 

His arms wrap around your thighs, holding them open as he devours you. 

“Fuck, babe. Just like that,” you moan, encouraging him when he licks into you just right. 

“Mm, you taste so good, baby,” he murmurs against you. “Say my name.”  

It’s not hard to moan his name when it’s the only thing on your mind. “Steve, fuck!” you cry when he slides two fingers into you, curling them up toward that heavenly spot. 

His eyes burn with desire, his tongue and fingers spurred on by your words.

You know you’re not gonna last long– he always knows just how to take care of you, and your head swims with pleasure. 

His fingers continue working you, his tongue unrelenting on your clit. You spew praise and pleas as you feel your climax approaching. 

“Fuck, baby.”

“Don’t stop!”

“Please, Steve, I need it.” 

“Ah- fuck, I’m gonna come!”

Your fingers tighten in his hair, thighs fighting his grip as you writhe beneath him. 

It hits you all at once. You screw your eyes shut, back arching off the bed as you clench around him, drowning in the ecstasy that washes over you. 

Steve pulls away from you, rubbing his thumb over your sensitive clit while you catch your breath. 

“Damn, baby. Look how wet you are.” He withdraws his fingers, holding them up so you can see your slick glisten in the light. 

Your face flushes. “You’re such a freak.” 

“Guilty,” he concedes. “But you love it.” He leans down, and his lips clash against yours in a messy kiss. He tastes like you, and he’s right– you do love it. 

Finally, he straightens up, and he looks utterly pornographic. He licks his lips, face still shiny from eating you out. His cock stands at attention, thick and leaking at the tip, and the dark hair at the base leads up to the patch on his chest.

He reaches down to stroke himself a few times, and you spread your legs in anticipation.  

“You want it, baby?” He taps himself against your clit a few times, drawing a gasp from your lips. 

“Mm, need it, love it when you fuck me,” you purr, rolling your hips into his. 

“Know you do, love. Always so good for me. Only me.” He sinks into you slowly, hissing at the sensation. 

Your breath hitches when his tip kisses the deepest part of you, but you regain it with a gasp as he starts fucking you. 

He starts with long, deep, deliberate thrusts, his fingers digging into your hips as he studies your face. Your mouth hangs open, head thrown back on the pillow. The feeling of him inside you is like no other– all your nerves are on fire. 

“So big,” you moan, and you can feel his ego inflating with each thrust. 

“Yeah? Can you take it, babe?” His lips turn up, eyes locked on you as he starts to move faster. A lot faster. 

“Uh- uh-huh,” you stammer, hands reaching up to clutch at his biceps. 

Slap. Slap. Slap. Steve’s thighs hit yours. 

One by one, Steve pulls your legs up to rest on his chest, your calves on his shoulders. 

“Mm, I like this one.” You bite your lip, relishing the new sensation as he continues his steady pace. 

At the end of every thrust, when he’s deepest inside of you, he’s sure to grind into you, drawing whimpers from your lips. 

Pleasure pools in your stomach, hot and tight as he hits all the best spots inside you. 

“Fuck, Steve!” You clutch at his thigh, throwing your head back. 

“Who else fucks you like this?” he demands, drilling you harder. 

You open your mouth to form a response, but your mind is too occupied by his cock to answer his question. 

“Tell me,” he grunts. 

“N-no one!” you cry. 

“Yeah, that’s right, baby. Good girl.” He releases your legs, not stopping his thrusts, and you wrap them around his hips. 

It’s crazy how well Steve can dominate you in bed, when he’s normally at your beck and call–waiting patiently for you to get ready, fetching you drinks, getting on his knees to remove your shoes. 

You’re not complaining–being Steve’s girlfriend is great, through and through, but the sex is incredible. It’s the kind of sex most girls can only dream of having once, and you’re lucky enough to get it nearly every night. 

“Feels so good, Steve, fuck!” Your repeated moans fill the room, nails digging into his shoulders and pulling a grunt from his lips. 

“You trying to mark me up, baby?” He grabs both of your wrists and pins them about your head, his rough thrusts never ceasing. “That’s my job,” he mumbles as his lips find a home on your neck. 

His tongue traces the curve of your neck sweetly before sucking harshly on your pulse point, drawing a whimper from your lips. 

He pulls away to admire his work, purple blooming across the spot already. 

He watches you intently–the way your tits ripple with the force of his thrusts, the fucked-out look on your face, your hair messy against the pillow. 

“You look so pretty, babe. D’ya hear that?” Every time he pulls out of you, a wet schlick rings out, simultaneously disgusting and erotic. 

You nod in response, walls fluttering around him. 

“Shit, so wet for me. So tight. Can feel you getting close.” He is too, if his filthy mouth tells you anything. 

“M’gonna come, don’t stop,” you plead, rolling your hips against his to get any friction you can on your clit. 

“Say please,” he commands, voice low and charged as his grip on your wrists tightens. 

“Please!” you cry out immediately, afraid he might stop if you don’t comply. “Oh, fuck, please!” 

You’re on the brink of an orgasm, just waiting. Waiting for him to tell you to come, for his permission. You meet his eyes, desperate as ever, and he finally gives you what you want. 

“Go on, baby. Come for me,” he pants as releases your wrists, sliding his hands down your waist. 

You let go, waves of pleasure crashing through you. Broken moans fly out of your lips, hips stuttering into his as you come for the second time tonight. 

Steve stalls his thrusts for a moment, rocking into you shallowly so you can attempt to recover. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” His voice is weak, his eyes fixed between you where your bodies meet. 

You pull him down so you can kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

He starts fucking into you again, slower and more controlled. It’s your turn to take him apart now, clenching around him and grazing your nails over any skin you can reach. 

He doesn’t stop kissing you, but he breathes and moans into your mouth, signaling just how close he is. 

“Want you to come in me,” you pant, pulling him closer with your legs around his hips. 

“Yeah? You want my come?” He fucks you faster, spurred on by your words. “You’ve earned it, baby.” 

After a few final thrusts, he buries himself in you fully, coming deep inside you with a groan. 

For a moment, you both catch your breath, the weight of his body heavy against you.

“Fuck, babe,” he exhales, rolling over to lie beside you. You curl into his side, smiling up at him sleepily. 

You always get so tired after, and he knows he only has a few minutes before you’re out cold. 

“Stay right there, love.” He presses a soft kiss to your temple before rushing to the bathroom to fetch a warm washcloth. 

“So good to me,” you hum, squeezing his shoulder lovingly as he cleans you up. 

“I love you.” He gives you a chaste kiss. “My girl.” 

Your heart does a backflip. “I love you too,” you coo, then, just because, “You should be jealous more often.” 

He laughs dryly. “Jealous? I’m not jealous.” 

“Hmm,” you smirk, and he leans in, kissing you so sweetly your head starts to spin again. Then, he pulls away just enough to whisper on your lips.  

Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female! Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Best friend! Steve, not canon-compliant in any way lmao, alcohol use, cigarettes/weed (implied), random Canada mention, making out, oral (f receiving), fingering, P-in-V sex, come everywhere!

A/N: This is my longest work yet!! I’m a sucker for a good friends-to-lovers fic, especially with Steve <333. I spent SO LONG writing and editing this, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do!! Xoxo

“Shots!” Robin yells when she finally gets everyone into the kitchen. You, Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, Vickie, and Eddie form a wobbly circle around the kitchen island as Robin pours shot after shot. 

It’s her birthday, and she and Steve are hosting a little get-together at their place.  

“Tequila, Rob, really?” You groan. “You know how I feel about tequila.” 

“C’mon,” Eddie chimes in. “Tequila is fun!” 

“Yes, it is, Eddie,” Robin agrees and sets down the bottle. “And, it’s my birthday, so you shall all take tequila shots with me!” she commands regally. 

Steve nudges you. “Never known you to turn down a shot.” 

“I’ll do it if you do it,” you cock an eyebrow at him. You’ve been saying the same thing to him for years. 

“You’re on,” he responds and picks up a shot glass. You all take the shot together, and a chorus of groans and coughs fills the room as the liquor burns your throat. 

“Disgusting,” you shiver and chase the tequila with the drink in your hand, Steve laughing at you. 

“C’mon, let’s go mingle.” Robin tugs you away from the kitchen and towards the living room, but you look back at Steve for a second, capturing his eyes. 

Robin brings you to the living room, where you get to meet all of her lovely coworkers and see Vickie’s party trick involving quarters and a glass bottle. 

You all watch in awe, cheering for her after she completes the trick. You drain the rest of your drink and head to the bathroom to relieve your bladder. 

After you’re done, you stand in front of the mirror, giving yourself a good look. Your hair falls perfectly, and the necklace hanging around your neck plunges into the neckline of your black top.

Yes. You look great, which is perfect, because tonight’s the night. You’re going to tell Steve how you feel, make a move on him somehow. So much has led up to this moment, and you know tonight will bring a change to your life–for better or for worse. 

You shake out your hands and exit the bathroom, finding Robin by the window and walking up to her. “Hey, birthday girl. How’s it going?” 

“Oh, it's great. I’m so happy! Everyone I love is here.” She gestures to the scene in front of her.

You scan the room with your eyes and take a mental inventory. Eddie and Jonathan are looking through a magazine, Vickie and Nancy are taking shots with Robin’s coworkers, Steve’s talking to a girl.

Wait, what? Steve is talking to a girl?

You snap your eyes back to Robin. “Uh… who is that? Talking to Steve?” you ask, trying to sound as unbothered as possible. 

She smirks. “Why, you jealous?” 

You scoff. “No, what-why would you think that? I’m not jealous.” You shake your head. 

“You’re so jealous. That’s my coworker, Ashley. She’s really nice.” 

“Yeah, and really hot.” You say under your breath, fixing your hair. 

“Oh, come on. You have nothing to be worried about. You look sexy.” She gestures down your body. 

“Worried? I’m fine. I don’t even care.” A drunken blush creeps over your face.

“He’s just friendly. They’re probably talking about narwhals, or something. Besides, he only has eyes for you,” she assures, lowering her voice. “It’s annoying, really. You guys are like, completely in love, and you’re both too stubborn to admit it.” 

“I was gonna say something tonight,” you admit quietly. “If that’s okay with you.” 

“Okay with me? That would be the greatest birthday gift a girl could ask for! Keep me updated.”

You nod, and she slips away from you, going to join the girls in the kitchen. “Ashley, c’mon! Shots in the kitchen!” She tugs Ashley up on her way. Robin is quite the wingman. 

You turn to look out the window, gazing down at the street below you for a moment. Steve’s with a girl. You allow yourself to feel the disappointment that washes over you despite Robin’s reassurance. 

“Feeling inquisitive?” You hear Steve’s voice behind you and turn to lean against the windowsill, looking up at him.

“Inquisitive? That’s a big word for you,” you tease, the smile on your lips masking your dismay. 

He scoffs. “I know big words.” 

You give him a doubtful look. “Okay, fine.” He sighs. “Jonathan taught me an hour ago.” 

You burst out laughing, leaning forward and bracing your hands on your knees. 

“So what are you up to? Just looking out the window longingly? I saw you talking to Robin. Looked real serious.” 

“It wasn’t serious. We were just talking about… our plans for the night.” You finish confidently, standing up straight. “Starting with another drink.” You brush past him, empty red solo cup in hand. 

He follows you to the kitchen, and you pour a drink for him and one for yourself. 

You sip the drink beside Eddie as he tells you about his upcoming gig. You and Steve have been separated again, this time by Jonathan, who wanted to “show something” to Steve outside. Definitely an excuse to go smoke. 

Vickie brings the cake in, bumping into Eddie, who spills his drink on you. “Shit, sorry! I’m the worst,” he groans, rushing to get you paper towels. Luckily, the cake is spared, but your shirt is soaked. 

“It’s okay, Eddie. I promise. I’m gonna go change in Steve’s room. I’ll be right back!” You turn and head toward Steve’s door. 

You knock–no answer. You turn the handle and go in, looking around. You’ve been in his room countless times, so you ignore your surroundings and head straight to his closet. You pull off your shirt, and it lands on the floor with a wet smack, leaving you in your bra. 

You rifle through the hanging shirts, looking for his familiar yellow sweater. “Where is it?” you mutter, flipping through shirts faster. 

The door swings open, and Steve enters. “Are you good? I saw-” he’s cut off by your shriek as you turn to face him. 

“Steve! What are you doing?” 

“This is my room,” he reminds you. “Where’s your shirt?” 

“Eddie spilled his drink on it. Not his fault, really. I came in here to change. I’m looking for that yel…” You trail off when you realize Steve is wearing the sweater. “That. The one you’re wearing.” 

“This?” He tugs on the sweater. “You want it?” 

“Yeah,” you laugh, “but you’re wearing it. It’s fine, I’ll wear this.” You blindly grab the closest shirt to you. 

“You wanna wear my Hawkins High basketball jersey?” He cocks an eyebrow at you before pulling his shirt over his head. 

You let your eyes trail over his arms, his chest, the trail of hair leading down his stomach. 

“Stare, much?” he asks, pushing the shirt toward you. “C’mon, I know you like this one.” 

You take it, unable to keep the smile off your face as you pull it on. It smells faintly of cigarettes and weed, but you don’t mind. The cuffs hang low over your hands, and you shimmy them up as he grabs a polo from his closet and puts it on. 

“Now I’m wearing the shirt you were just wearing. People are gonna think-” 

“They’re not gonna think anything they don’t already think.” He interrupts. “What’s up with you?” 

“Nothing,” you respond quickly. 

It’s clear he doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t want to push it. “Good. The night is young, or whatever. C’mon,” he grabs your hand and pulls you out of his room. 

You meet up with the rest of the party, watching Robin cut the cake. You enjoy a slice and finish the drink you started with Eddie, who winks at you after noticing the outfit change.

You’re three drinks in now and feeling good. You’re not messy yet, but you feel lighter and more confident. Focused, even, on the most important thing in the room: Steve. 

His arms look amazing in that shirt. You think he knows it, too, from the way his muscles contract as he runs a hand through his hair. He’s got you hooked on every movement, eyes wide as you watch him. 

Robins pulls everyone together for a few rounds of truth or dare, and you sit on the floor beside Steve. He’s up first, and the group dares him to do a cartwheel. 

“What? I can’t do a cartwheel!” he complains, throwing his hands in the air. 

“Cartwheel or drink.” Eddie chirps. 

“I’ll drink,” Steve grumbles and reaches for the tequila. 

You’re next, and you choose dare. Robin holds up a sharpie. “Let Steve give you a tramp stamp,” she giggles, waving it around. 

You roll your eyes. “Fine. Nothing dirty.” You point your finger at him warningly. He takes the marker as you turn, leaning over. 

You feel his warm hand lift the sweater and rest on your back as the tip of the marker presses against you, scrawling a shape. A shiver runs up your spine, and you can’t believe you’re getting turned on from a sharpie tattoo. 

After a moment, he pulls away. “Done. And it looks great, if I do say so myself.”

You turn to show it off to the group, eliciting oohs and ahhs and laughter from the circle. 

“What is it?” You crane your neck to try and see it, but no luck. 

“It’s a heart with an arrow through it.” Steve grins, gesturing to his work. 

“Classic,” you laugh, settling back into your seat. He leans back, bracing his arm on the floor behind you. You lean into him, looking up at him for a moment as Eddie chooses dare.

The sight of Eddie trying to lick his own foot is funny enough to send you into a fit of laughter. He eventually gets it done, and Robin takes her turn.

You miss the dare because all you can focus on is the scent of Steve’s cologne. He put it on in front of you hours ago, and you’ve been chasing it all night. Now, you’re not sure if it’s coming from him or the sweater of his you’re wearing, but you don’t care as long as it doesn’t go away. 

The game goes on for a while longer, round after round, until Robin yawns and decides to call it a night. “You’re all welcome to stay on the couch or floor! Drive safe if you’re not gonna stay. And thanks for coming!” She beams before pulling Vickie off to bed. 

Robin’s coworkers filter out along with Jonathan and Nancy, but Eddie decides to crash on the couch. 

“Can I sleep with you?” You look up at Steve as the two of you collect the cups littered around the kitchen. 

“Course you can,” he tosses a cup into the trash. “Been plannin’ on it.” 

Planning on it? What does that mean? Is he flirting with you? 

“C’mon, let’s go to bed. We can finish in the morning.” He pulls you away from the kitchen by your hand, warmth spreading in your chest. 

You slip into his room, and he closes the door behind you. You’re still buzzing, having downed a fourth drink in truth or dare when you refused to drink ketchup. 

You’ve seen at least four different drinks in Steve’s hand tonight, not to mention his trip outside with Jonathan. 

“How was your night tonight?” you prompt, stumbling out of your jeans and into the sleep shorts you packed earlier. 

“Fantastic. Nine out of ten,” he responds.

“Oh yeah? Where’d it lose a point?” 

“Well, we haven’t gone to bed yet,” he states simply, pulling off his shirt. You pull your lip between your teeth to avoid the eager grin that threatens to creep onto your face. 

You turn, and he’s standing a foot away from you. Your breath hitches. He’s standing too close to be friendly. 

“What’s up?” You manage as you gaze up at him, eyes tracing his features. 

“There’s that look again.” His eyes meet yours and flicker down to your lips so fast you’re sure you must have hallucinated it. 

“What? What look? I’m not giving you a look,” you babble, the tequila and tension impeding your clarity.

“That look. You’ve been looking at me like that all night. Like you’ve got somethin’ to tell me.” 

He’s got you all figured out, and there’s no sense in denying it.

“I… I do have something to tell you. But I’m drunk,” you say quietly.  “Shouldn’t be making any confessions.” 

“Well then let me ask you something.” He steps even closer, taking your hand in his and placing it flat on his chest. 

You trace a slow figure eight over his skin, parting your lips slightly. “What is it?” Your heart beats so fast in your chest you wonder if he can hear it.  

“Do you have any idea what it does to me when you look at me like that?” He whispers, and you close the remaining distance.

You and Steve haven’t kissed since high school, but it feels so familiar. He tastes like tequila, and it’s suddenly your drink of choice. Your lips work against his, hand sliding through the hair on his chest. 

You pull away, not wanting to overstay your welcome, but he pulls you back in with a hand on the back of your head. 

When he’s satisfied, he breaks the kiss slowly, lips glistening with spit. 

You’re at a loss for words. Did he know you were going to say something tonight? Did you really just kiss your best friend? How long has he been feeling the same way? 

He answers your question despite it not leaving your lips. “I’ve been waiting to kiss you for so long.” 

“Me too,” you breathe out. His lips are on yours again before you can jump with joy. You settle for wrapping your arms around his neck and tangling your fingers into his hair. 

You can’t believe Steve is kissing you like this–for years, the two of you have been dodging the best-friends-in-love allegations, even if you were secretly pining. 

Now, there’s no doubt about the way Steve feels about you. He kisses you as if he needs your lips to survive.  

His tongue slides along your bottom lip, and you open your mouth for him. You back him slowly toward the bed until he’s seated. You follow the kiss, climbing onto the bed and straddling his lap. 

His hands wander up and down your back as he moves his kisses to your neck. “Is this okay?” he murmurs against the skin there. 

“Yes. More than okay.” His lips explore various spots on your neck, finding one under your ear that makes your breath hitch. 

He slips a hand beneath your shirt, sliding it up your side. “Can I take this off?” 

You nod, helping him pull the yellow sweater over your head. It’s discarded to the floor next to the damp shirt from earlier. 

“We don’t have to do anything.” His eyes meet yours. “Just wanna kiss you.” 

You melt at his words, leaning in again. This time, you pull his bottom lip between your teeth and pull away teasingly. He stares at you in awe before grabbing your waist and flipping you, pinning you beneath him. 

With his strong arms on either side of your head and his face looming over yours, you feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven. You think about telling Steve how many times you’ve dreamt of this.  

He kisses you again, rolling his tongue against yours. You feel him reaching above you, and he slides one of his pillows under your head. You moan appreciatively into his mouth, wrapping your legs around him. 

“Steve,” you coo. “Want your hands on me. Please.” 

“Fuck, am I dreaming?” He braces himself on one arm, bicep flexing, and runs his free hand down your waist, squeezing your hip. You take his hand in yours, guiding his fingers up to the little clasp at the front of your bra. 

His breath fans across your neck as he pops the clasp open, kissing the exposed skin as he pulls the bra off of you. 

His movements aren’t rushed at all. They’re steady. Decisive. And you’re watching him closely, committing everything he does to memory.

He licks one of your nipples before wrapping his lips around it, sucking hard enough to elicit a whimper from you. 

Your body hums with need, electricity coursing through you. His hand slides under the hem of your shorts, looking up at you for permission. You nod quickly, and he wastes no time removing them.

He plants kisses down your chest and belly, landing on the bow at the front of your underwear. You bite your lip, unable to contain your excitement. You’ve thought about this very moment many times, alone at night while you touch yourself. 

Sure, you’ve heard rumors about Steve. You’ve listened intently to girls at school talking about his demeanor, his size, the sinful things he can do with his tongue. 

He puts on a show for you, pulling your panties down with his teeth before tossing them to the floor to join the growing pile of crumpled clothing. You spread your legs for him, and he kisses you just above your clit. 

“I thought about this while I was in the shower this morning,” he admits. “Just wanted to taste you. Make you feel good.” He licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit slowly, savoring you. 

You let your head fall back on the pillow, envisioning him in the shower as he laps at your clit. You wonder if he touched himself, made himself come on the shower wall to the thought of you.

 “Steve,” you moan, tangling your fingers into his hair. 

You don’t expect yourself to come–you never have with a partner–but when he delves his tongue into you, nose nudging your clit, you keen and reconsider. 

“Ah, fuck. Do that again,” you plead, tugging on his hair. He must like that because he repeats the motion several times, humming against you. 

You cry out when he sucks on your clit, and he abruptly pulls away, kissing your lower stomach. His big brown eyes look up at you. “You better be quiet, baby, or everyone’s gonna know what I’m doin’ to you.” 

You pant. “O-okay. I’ll be quiet. So quiet.” You nod fervently, eager to have his mouth back on you. “Please don’t stop.” 

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he laps at you. You feel his fingers tease your entrance, circling it. “Do you like this?” he asks against you. 

You nod again. “Yes. Please,” you whisper in an effort to stay quiet. He slides two fingers into you slowly and curls them in a way that makes it impossible to stop the gasp that escapes your lips.  

He strokes that spot inside of you repeatedly, tongue never ceasing. You writhe against the bed, thighs tightening around his head until he pushes them back apart with his free hand. 

His bedroom fills with a symphony of your heavy, unsteady breathing and the squelch of his fingers moving inside you.  

You have no time to warn him that you’re close before you come over his fingers, pulling on his hair and letting a whimper leave your lips. 

He helps you ride it out, slowing his motions until your legs are trembling. “I- I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to come,” you breathe. 

He sits up, face wet with your arousal. “Why are you sorry? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“Well, now you’re… all wet.” You gesture to his face.

He chuckles, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I’m right where I wanna be. Gonna jerk off to that later.” 

He kneels between your legs, kissing you sweetly. You can taste yourself on him, and it spurs you on as you scrape your nails over his back. “I really liked when you called me baby,” you say shyly against his mouth. 

“Yeah?” His nose grazes yours. “I’ll keep calling you that then, baby.” Fireworks explode in your chest as he kisses you again. 

You hum into the kiss, taking a second to ground yourself. You’re lying naked on Steve’s bed. And he’s here. Between your legs. After making you come with his mouth. 

But you’re not done. 

You break the kiss to whisper up at him, lips shiny with his spit. “Are we… Are you gonna fuck me?” 

“Fuck,” he swallows. “Do you want me to?” 

You nod, reaching for the button of his jeans. He kneels, unzipping them for you, and you slip your hand in, palming the impressive tent in his boxers. His eyes flutter shut, head tipping back as you rub over him. 

You’ve been friends with Steve long enough to know that he’s hung. Robin teases him about it, but you prefer to think about it in the privacy of your bedroom.

“So big, Steve.” You wrap your fingers around him through the fabric. His mouth hangs open in pleasure, neck craned to watch your hand move over him. 

He stands to kick off his jeans and boxers, and you sit up on the bed, gawking at him. “How do you want me?” you ask excitedly, wrapping your hand around his cock again and stroking him. 

“Lay down, baby. Wanna see your face.” He lays you back, sliding the pillow under your head once more. Chivalry isn’t dead. 

You spread your legs in anticipation as he grabs a condom from his nightstand and rolls it on. “Can’t believe I get to do this,” he breathes, his heavy cock resting against you. “Y’gonna be quiet for me?” 

You nod, eager to do anything to please him. 

“God, you’re perfect,” he groans, dragging his cock between your folds. “Tell me if you wanna stop, okay?” 

“Okay,” you reply, and his hair dangles in front of you as he looks down at where your bodies meet. 

He slips through your folds a few more times, spreading the wetness over you. Then, he pushes the tip in slowly, eyes snapping up to your face to watch your reaction. 

The stretch is a lot at first, but it’s more pleasurable than painful, and you shift your hips as he slides into you fully. 

He begins to thrust into you deliberately, dragging against spots no one else has reached. You bury your face into his neck, sputtering little noises against him as he moves faster. 

“Still feeling good, baby?” he rasps, and you clench around him. 

“Mhm. Don’t stop.” You plant kisses over his neck, grazing your nails over his shoulders. 

Your body is on fire, and every movement he makes fuels it. You find it impossible to keep quiet as he drives into you, so you dig your nails deeper into his back, drawing gasps from him.  

“Steve,” you whine. “Feels s’good.”

“Oh yeah? Y’being so good for me.” Fuck. The mouth on Steve doesn’t surprise you, and it sends you hurtling toward your second orgasm. 

“M’gonna come again,” you warn, and his thrusts keep a steady pace as his lips envelop yours, quieting your moans. 

You kiss him back as best as you can, but it’s messy and wet, and your grip on his shoulders tightens as you fall apart. You tremble as you pulse around him, warmth exploding across your body.

Steve Steve Steve Steve Steve is all that fills your mind as you lie back, letting him have his way with you. 

“Steve,” you moan. “Want you to come,” you urge weakly, hands sliding down his arms. 

“Can I come on you?” he asks, his voice wrecked. 

The thought of Steve jerking himself off over you, covering you with his come, stirs something deep inside you. “God, yes, please,” you beg. 

He pulls out, tearing the condom off and stroking himself, face screwed up in pleasure. You watch eagerly as beads of come spurt out of him, landing over your stomach and chest. 

He comes for what feels like ages, and when he’s finally spent, he sighs, letting his head fall back. 

The two of you take a moment to catch your breath, the room eerily quiet otherwise. 

“Fuck,” he huffs. “That was…” he trails off, but his eyebrows crease thoughtfully. 

You laugh. “Are you thinking of a big word right now?” 

“Superb,” he finishes, looking proud of himself. 

“Mmm, it was superb,” you agree. “Do you think Robin heard? Or Eddie?” You push yourself up on your hands, sitting up to look at him. 

“Maybe,” he shrugs, “but I think they’ll be happy if they did.”

“Robin’s been wanting us to get together,” you admit, a shy smile creeping over your face. “I told her I liked you like, forever ago.” 

“How long ago?” he asks, intrigued. 

“Um…” you think it over. “Like, six months.” And then he’s leaning in and kissing you, running his fingers through your hair. 

He pulls away just enough. “I told her a year ago,” he whispers against your lips.

“What?” You pull away, shocked. 

“Yup. Right after we went to Canada.” He pulls you back in, your naked chest pressing to his. He doesn’t seem to mind the fact that you’re covered in his come and it’s on him now, too. You would be disgusted if it wasn’t Steve. 

“Only,” he adds, looking into your eyes. “I didn’t tell her that I liked you. I told her I was in love with you.” 

His admission hits you in the chest, warm and heavy. “Steve,” you flush, looking down at the clothes pile in the center of the room.  

Then, you meet his gaze again. “I love you. And I wanna be with you.” 

His smug expression makes you want to smack him. “So, does that mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you answer, grinning now. 

“Our first order of business as a couple is taking a shower,” he tells you before kissing you again, softly this time. 

—

When you wake up in the morning, Steve’s arms are wrapped around you, spooning you like he’s afraid you’ll escape. Sunlight shoots through the cracks in his blinds, and his steady breath on your neck tells you he’s still asleep. 

You take it all in for a minute, relishing the warm feel of him against you. 

When you grow impatient, you stroke your hand over his arm, shifting your body slowly to get up without waking him. 

You stand and get a good look at him, and he’s so peaceful. Your eyes wander over the curve of his nose, the stubble on his jaw, the way his arms reach out on the empty bed. 

You can’t suppress a giggle when you notice the sharpie smudged on his stomach from the tattoo he gave you during truth or dare. 

Steve stirs, hand sliding over the warm, empty spot on the bed. When he realizes you’re not there, he groans softly and sits up, eyes opening. 

“Morning,” you greet him, standing at the edge of the bed. 

“Mmm, what are you doing? What time is it? Come back to bed,” he mumbles groggily, hooking his arm around your waist and pulling you down onto the bed with him. 

You slide into his arms again, accepting the warmth his body radiates. 

“It’s almost eight. Let’s go clean the kitchen before Robin wakes up.” 

“Okay,” he agrees. “In five minutes.” His hand slides lazily over your waist before dragging your leg over his hip, kneading your thigh. 

“Five minutes.” You run your fingers through his hair, flattening it. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Ideas like what?” he hums into your neck, throwing the covers over you. “You’re freezing, baby. I’m just keepin’ you warm.”

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female! Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Smut (18+), P in V sex (protected), dryhumping, praise kink, semi-public sex (parked car), softdom! Steve (kinda), WAP! reader lmao

A/N: This is definitely my favorite piece of writing so far. Very very filthy so if you know me I’m sorry. Let me know what you think! Enjoy xoxo

You tease Steve all through dinner.

It starts with you grazing your heel-adorned foot over his calf under the table as you sip your drink. You don’t miss the way he straightens slightly in his seat, leaning toward you. 

“How was your day today?” You smile sweetly at him, setting your drink down. 

“No complaints. Kids were good. They all turned in their final projects, which I wasn’t expecting.” He laughs. “One of them wrote a song about abstinence that I can’t wait to hear.”

“It would do you some good to listen to that song,” you tease, cocking an eyebrow. 

He rolls his eyes in response. “C’mon, I didn’t hear you complaining after our last date.” 

That shuts you up, and you sip your drink again as the two of you exchange a knowing glance. How could you forget? He nearly drilled you into the mattress, and you came four times– your personal record. 

You’re fantasizing about what the night has in store for you when his voice snaps you back to reality. 

“How was your day, gorgeous?” He prompts, taking your hand in his across the table. You begin telling him about your day, tracing figures into the palm of his hand. Your fingers meander to the inside of his wrist, swiping over the band of his watch before you let your hand rest in his again.  

After you’ve finished your food and seduced him thoroughly, Steve slips a wad of cash into the little black book and helps you up from your seat. 

In the alley outside the restaurant, he pulls you close for a minute so he can murmur in your ear. “I know what you’re doing.” Goosebumps form on your arms at the tone in his voice.  

“Hmm?” You play dumb, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

He wastes no time pressing you against the cool brick and planting a hot kiss to your mouth. You pull him closer as he kisses from your ear to your collarbone. “Lookin’ all pretty for me. Turnin’ me on in the restaurant. I know what you want, baby.” 

The pet name goes straight between your legs. “And what are you gonna do about it?” 

He straightens up, looking down at you as he slides a hand over your waist. “I’m gonna take y’home, if you’ll have me.” 

You nod, suppressing a grin as you slip your hand into his and lead the way to his car. He opens the door for you, and you shoot him a mischievous look through the windshield as he walks around the car. 

You admire him, eyes flitting over his hand, his arm, his irresistible face. The key turns, and you’re off. 

You haven’t even reached the first stop sign before his hand is on the inside of your thigh, pinky slipping beneath your skirt. You take the opportunity to slide your hand up his arm, squeezing his bicep. 

“You’re so strong, Steve,” you purr, and the grip on your thigh tightens. His gaze slips away from the road to you for just a second to take you in. 

They snap back to the road, and the knuckles on his left hand turn white against the steering wheel. “Keep talkin’ like that, and we’re not gonna make it home.” 

The tension in the car settles over you, and you rub your thighs together in an attempt to do something about it. He kneads your thigh, eyes still steady on the road, but you catch the way the corners of his lips turn up in a smirk. 

You don’t know whether Steve is taking you to yours or his, but you’re still about ten minutes out either way. You look around, observing the empty road, and decide that you can’t wait any longer. 

“Pull over,” you plead, and he does as you ask, tires crunching against the gravel on the side of the road as they roll into the nearby pull-off.

“You okay?” He shifts the car into park, his hand sliding off your thigh. 

“No.” You sit up in your seat, leaning over the center console. “Need you to kiss me. Please.” 

He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, cupping your face with his hand. His thumb roams over your chin before swiping over your bottom lip, and you waste no time sucking it into your mouth. 

“So pretty,” he whispers, but it’s loud in the otherwise silent car. “Can’t say no when you ask me like that.”

Soon enough, he’s pulling you in and kissing you. It’s slow and soft at first, but when your fingers grip the collar of his shirt, his tongue slides against yours. You moan into his mouth, spurring him on. 

If there was any doubt about where the night was going to take you, it dissolves quickly when he mutters, “C’mere,” and pulls you across the center console. 

You settle in his lap. It’s a little cramped, but you don’t mind the door digging into your leg when he’s kissing you like this. 

His hands find your hips, grinding you down on him, and you feel his hard length press against you. “See what you do to me?” 

You nod, letting your head hang as you grind against him again, letting out a moan this time. 

You kiss him again, pressing your chest to his as you roll against him, desperate for any friction you can get. Every movement has your body on fire, and you think you could come just like this. 

Steve sees how good you’re feeling–how you moan into his mouth and writhe against him, and he urges you on. He pulls you against him, pushing his hips into yours at your pace. 

You know that any second a car could drive by–the police, even. It’s not even that late, actually. The fear brings more urgency to the situation, and you move faster against him. 

You’re so turned on that Steve can feel the dampness seeping through the clothing separating you. 

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling away to look at you while continuing his motions. “Want you to come.” 

“M’so close,” you whine, legs starting to tremble above him. You catch his eyes, and the desire behind them sends you over the edge. You writhe above him as his hands explore your hips and back. 

Your hips slow to a stop, and he moans against your lips as he kisses you. He’s hard beneath you, cock straining against his jeans in a way that you know must be painful. You move to unbutton them, trailing your kisses down his jaw and neck. 

He helps you pull his jeans down, freeing him. “Need you so bad,” you breathe, wrapping your fingers around him and stroking him slowly. “Been waiting for this all week.” 

“So have I,” he responds, eyes fixed on the movement of your hand. “Condoms in the glove box, can you reach?”

You turn and open the glove box, pulling out a brand new package. You wave it in front of him. “Fresh pack, just for me?” you ask teasingly, opening it. 

“M’not seeing anyone else,” he responds, squeezing your hip. After a moment, he asks, “Are you?”  

You shake your head, your face flushing. Then, you smirk. “In the glovebox? Were you expecting this? Here?” You raise your eyebrows. 

“Well, I had a feeling something might happen, and safety first, right?” He takes the condom from you, opening it and rolling it on with ease. 

“Right.” You bite your lip, hovering over him. He pushes your skirt up your hips, crudely yanking your panties to the side to get a good look at you. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” He rubs his cock from your entrance to your clit and back, collecting your slick.

You expect him to slide into you, to give you that delicious feeling of being stretched out, but he doesn’t. He continues to tease you, sliding between your folds and basking in the feeling. 

When he finally enters you, you sink down on him slowly, breath catching when he grazes the spot only he has ever reached. You start to ride him, thighs burning but unable to stop.

“I’ve been hard since dinner,” he moans, sliding his left hand up your shirt to cup your tit. “That’s what you wanted, right?” 

You try to answer, or at least think about answering, but you only stutter out a moan as he starts fucking up into you. 

“C’mon, answer me.” He grabs your jaw with his other hand, directing you to face him. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

“Yes!” you cry. 

“Good girl,” he praises, releasing your face and sliding his hand down to rub your clit with his thumb. He feels you clench around him as you ride him faster, panting. 

“Oh, y’like when I call you that? My good girl?” 

You moan, nodding into his shoulder as you let your head drop again. You’re dripping down his balls now, pulsing around him.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Y’gonna come again?” His thumb continues circling your clit as you fuck yourself on him. 

“Mhm,” you whine into his neck. “Fuck, please don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop baby. Gonna come with you,” he pants. “Kiss me.” 

You turn your head to kiss him messily, one hand on his chest and the other behind you, bracing yourself on his thigh. He licks into your mouth, rocking his hips into yours and rubbing your clit until you come undone. 

You shudder, breaking the kiss to moan loudly into the car as you ride out your orgasm. He’s right behind you, flooding the condom and grazing his teeth over your shoulder with a muffled moan. 

“Shit,” he pants, his head falling back against the headrest as he slips out of you. “We made a mess.” You look down between you, both covered in your sticky release.

“Don’t worry,” you giggle into his neck. “Saw some tissues in the glove box next to the condoms.” 

He rolls his eyes, reaching in and grabbing a stack of them. He wipes you up first as best he can before he does the same to himself, leaving the tissues and used condom on the mat by his feet. 

“Gross.” You scrunch up your nose. 

“Gross? That’s all you, babe,” he teases as you settle back into your seat and fix your clothes. “Wanna spend the night? We’ll swing by yours and get some stuff. You can keep showin’ me how good you are.” He winks, and you blush all over again. 

Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female! Reader

Word Count: 833

Warnings: 18+, FWB to..?, stuck in an elevator trope, feelings talk, making out, heavy petting, grinding, unfinished business ;)

A/N: This one is so special to me. It came to me suddenly, and I had to stop what I was doing to write it. Let me know if you guys like it. I want to keep writing--thinking about making a masterlist soon. Enjoy!!! xoxo

“I don’t trust this thing,” Steve huffs, the crumpled box in his arms wavering as he presses the elevator button. “You know how I feel about elevators.” 

“Yes, I know. But it’s faster, and we have to bring this whole stack down.” You gesture to the pile of boxes filled with various old tapes. 

Old tapes don’t sell enough to keep on the shelves, so they have to go downstairs until the end-of-year sale. You and Steve have been tasked with the job of transporting the tapes to the glorious, cobweb-filled basement while Robin runs the counter. 

Together, you heave the boxes into the elevator one by one. When Steve lifts the last box, you catch the way his biceps flex, a concentrated look plastered on his face. 

The last time you saw that face was when he had you pinned against his bed, whining under him. Just thinking about it turns you on. 

“C’mon.” He motions for you to step in, snapping you out of your trance. 

“Sorry,” you murmur. “Distracted.” 

His lips turn up in a smug expression as he pushes the button for the basement. 

The doors close slowly, a dramatic creak echoing as you stand there in silence. 

When the doors finally shut and the elevator rumbles to a start, he turns to you. “Thinking about last night?” 

“No,” you respond quickly. “Don’t flirt with me. I told you–”

“Yeah, yeah. Last night was the last time. You say that every time. What’s so wrong about us hooking up, anyway?” 

You don’t have a chance to answer his question. The elevator comes to a stop abruptly, thudding against the cables. The yellow light flickers and dies before your eyes, leaving the two of you in complete darkness and silence as the hum of the elevator stops. 

“We must’ve lost power.” You break the silence but get no response from Steve. “Steve? Are you okay?” You reach out for him blindly, making contact with his shoulder.

“Yeah, I- I’m fine. Totally chill with… this.” He manages, but his voice is an octave higher than usual. 

“It’s okay. We’re probably only a few feet from the ground, anyway. Robin will reset the breaker, and we’ll be fine.” You assure, giving his shoulder a squeeze. 

He nods, then realizes you can’t see him. “I’m nodding.” 

You smile. “Okay. C’mere.” You slide your hand down his arm, grabbing his hand to pull him closer. 

He settles against you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Y’so confusing,” he murmurs into your hair. 

Your stomach twists with guilt. “I know. I’m sorry.” You lay your cheek against his chest. “It’s not that I don’t wanna keep sleeping with you. I do. It’s just…” You can’t finish the sentence. 

“Is it not good?” 

“No! It’s good. Really good. Too good. I don’t know.” You sigh. “When we first hooked up, we established that it was just that. Hooking up, no strings attached.” 

“Yeah..?”

“Well, I can’t do that anymore. It’s… more for me, now. Strings are attached.” You clear your throat. “I’m sorry.”   

You expect him to pull away from you, to push you away, even. Instead, you feel his hand roam up your side and cup your jaw. 

He whispers your name. “What if I told you… that I’ve had strings attached for months? Since you first started working here.” 

“Really? Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I thought you wouldn’t want to be with me,” he responds quickly, showing you how much he’s thought about this. “Thought you just wanted to fuck.”

“That’s not what I want.” You angle your head up toward him, fingers threading into the hair on the back of his head. 

You pull each other in, lips finding one another’s despite the darkness. The kiss is soft and sweet, in contrast with the hungry way he usually kisses you. 

He kisses you again, deeper this time, then pulls away just enough to whisper against your lips. “Good. Because I want more.” 

He kisses your forehead, your cheek, your nose, murmuring sweet nothings before each kiss.

“Wanna take you out to dinner.” 

“Wanna hold your hand when we’re with our friends.”

“Want you to be my girl.” 

You melt into him, grabbing the collar of his polo and parting your lips to let him in. 

He backs you up against the stack of boxes, sliding his tongue against yours. The elevator is hot and dark and musty, but you need him closer. 

He lifts your leg, pulling it against his hip and pressing himself against you. You moan softly into his mouth when he grabs your ass and grinds into you. 

Suddenly, the light flickers back on as the elevator hums to life. You and Steve let out a collective groan, wishing Robin had taken a little longer to fix the breaker. 

You pull away to look at each other. Your face is flushed, and Steve’s hair sticks up fourteen different ways. He beams at you.