#husband material

Summary -> When you wake up, your husband is nowhere to be found. Turns out, Steve is making pancakes for his girls and you can't help but admire the view.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Dad!Steve, fluff, baby fever, smut, dirty talk, hand job, getting freaky in the kitchen, desperate!Steve, reader is THIRSTY, POST SEASON 5

Wordcount: 3.6k

Steve wasn't in bed.

That was the first thing that registered in your sleep-fogged brain when you woke up. Normally, the man was a huge teddy bear and would be clinging to you like a limpit, refusing to let go.

You groaned, blindly reaching out for your husband in the dark room. The side next to you was empty, the sheets were rumpled, and the blanket was gingerly tucked around you like a lovers embrace. It was still warm, so you knew he had left recently.

Minuets later, you were in your dressing gown, leaving the bedroom to find wherever he had wandered off to.

First you checked Dia's room.

It was a habit. Your baby- well, she was already four and growing fast, but she would always be your baby- was face down in her bed. Small tufts of thick, brown hair were sticking up at odd angles and the covers were tangled around her feet.

She had a tendency to move in her sleep.

Dia had her father's hair. It was something both your children shared with Steve to the point you were convinced there was something magical about his glorious locks; the way it framed your children's faces perfectly, the way it made Dia look like a little cherub instead of the menace she was growing up to be.

The four year old in question was snoring softly. Her short little breaths could be heard in the early morning quiet and it was a miracle she was still asleep.

There was still no sign of Steve. Sometimes, he could be found squashed in with either one of your children. Stevie was with his girls more often than not and was the most loving man you had ever met.

You crept silently into the depths of the small room and made sure the drapes were shut tight, not letting any sunlight in, before making your way over to her bed. Leaning down, you placed a soft kiss to the top of her head, inhaling that comforting baby smell.

The faint scent of the ridiculously expensive shampoo Steve had bought was buried deep in her hair. It was the only shampoo he used on the kids. The excuse he used every time was always: 'only the best for my girls'.

The memory made you feel all fuzzy and warm inside. It reminded you that you had yet to find him and should probably keep looking.

You stood back up and walked to the door, glancing once over your shoulder just to check if Dia was still sleeping. Seeing that she was, you stepped into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind you.

Next was Jane's room.

Jane was nine and tall for her age. She too had Steve's case of a bedhead, and even in the dark, her tresses could be seen splayed across her pillow.

Steve had named your first child.

It was one of the only things he refused to meet you halfway on, not that you didn't like the name. You loved the it and knew what emotional depth it held for Steve. It was an honour to be able to name your child after El and a way to keep that girl embedded in your lives forever.

Jane was an early riser and had given both you and Steve a run for your money when she was younger. Still, Steve had been up with her from the moment her eyes opened with no complaints. He would quietly lead her out of the bedroom and into the living room, granting you a few more hours of rest. He was truly the best man you could ever ask for.

Her room was littered with toys- evidence of her tea party held last night with you and 'Prince' Steve, who had 'courageously' saved you from the evil dragon (cough, cough Dia). Steve had played his part adorably and remained passive even when the 'Great Bad Dia' had yanked his hair a little too hard.

No wonder both girls were still unconscious. Steve always had a hard time saying no and they had stayed up way past their bedtime playing make belief.

You slowly peeled back the covers, careful not to wake up your darling daughter. But, no luck. Stevie wasn't tucked up with this one either.

Gently, with the most care and skill you can muster this early, you pulled the blanket back over Jane. You smoothened her crazy locks back down out of her face and smiled at the beauty you and Steve made.

Then, as you did with Dia, you crept back out, careful not to trip on any items left on the carpet, and closed the door on your way out.

It had now hit you that you still couldn't find Steve.

Though, you had no worry and made your way downstairs where the smell of pancake batter hit you full force.

You snuck through the house until you were leaning comfortably in the doorway to the kitchen.

Steve, as you suspected, was by the counter, his back to you, and seemed to be cooking. He was illuminated by the morning light. It brought attention to his strong back muscles and biceps.

Steve hadn't noticed you yet and was fully focused on preparing the meal in front of him. He was stirring (what you could only assume was more batter) with the seriousness of a navy seal and kept murmuring to himself, adding some more flour into the mixture.

The kitchen was a battlefield: the first batch of pancakes already sat tucked away on the side, faint traces of flower covered every other surface, clumps and blobs of pancake batter were stuck to the counter in different shapes and sizes, and spoons and various other ingredients littered the counter tops like they were planning an invasion on your home.

Steve was humming some song he heard on the radio while holding the mixing bowl under his arm and swaying to the imaginary beat. He was oblivious to the world around him, and from here, you could tell that his hair was dusted with flour- Steve always was a messy cook.

He was wearing the frilly pink and white apron Dustin had brought him as a gag gift for his latest birthday. Ever since then, Steve wore it non-ironically, claiming 'it was a gift', so it must be worn. Seeing Steve being all house-husband did things to you that you weren't proud of.

He had just begun pouring the next round of batter into a pan. You remember a time when he wasn't allowed near the stove when you made breakfast because of the mess he made. How times have changed. Having a baby really does make a person adjust accordingly.

You observed him for a while longer, watching the way his sleep pants rode low on his hips, the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt due to the heat, and the fact that his ass was looking amazing. The strings of the apron were tied in a lop-sided bow at the small of his back, pulling the fabric tight across his waist.

You could faintly see the gold font at the front as it curled around the side of the fabric. You couldn't read it all, but you knew what it said: 'Kiss The Cook'. It made you laugh the first time you saw it, and you secretly think he likes to wear it for the free kisses it gets him.

Suddenly, all your thoughts about getting him back into bed to cuddle before your 'terrors' awake left swiftly out the window. Instead, you would much rather the two of you do something a little more up close and personal. Still, you tried to refrain yourself and remain the 'responsible adult' you were.

At that moment, Steve leaned down to pick up a dropped spoon, and all your will power evapourated. His pants slipped even lower, and you could practically see the way his muscles move under the fabric.

Aw, well. You never had much restraint when it came to Steve anyway.

You pushed off from the doorway and mutely headed towards him, letting your hips sway as you went.

Every time he reached over for the spatula or flipped a pancake, the muscles in his back and arms would flex under his soft skin making your mouth water.

The sight was enough to make you pause for a second, fully appreciating the man you married. The apron strings pull tight every time he leans forward to check the griddle, outlining the perfect dip of his waist, the swell of his ass, the long line of his thighs.

You’ve been watching from behind for three solid minutes. Thighs already slick. You've grown impatient now.

You make the final stretch, hugging him from behind as he's mid-pour. He jumped, then froze for a moment, his eyes flickered down. He realized it is indeed you and let himself relax again, placing a chaste kiss to your forehead and going back to the task at hand.

You pouted slightly at his obliviousness to your growing need. So, you tried again: leaning forward until your front is flush against his back, and you could rest your chin on his shoulder. You drew your arms around properly so that they could rest on his hips while your hands overlaped, tugging at his waist.

Steve looked down.

"G'morning, sweetheart. How'd you sleep?"

You sighed. Steve is a gentleman now, after all.

"I slept alright. But, you weren't there when I woke up..." you drew out the sentence until it was almost a whine.

He chuckled quietly, the sound reverberating in your chest. "Aw, I'm sorry, baby. I wanted to get up early to make the kids breakfast."

"You could have woke me up," you sighed, "I wouldn't mind."

That got a smirk out of Steve. "Oh, yeah, you wouldn't mind? Where was this attitude when I woke you up an hour early on game day to get a good parking space?"

He had you there. You pressed closer, nosing along the line of his neck placing sleepy kisses there as he dragged his eyes back to the frying pan.

"That was different..." You said slowly. "But I want to be with you now."

Steve finally seemed to get the hint after you began sucking the side of his neck. You switched between sweet kisses and soft sucks hoping to gain his attention.

He went quiet for a beat. It was clear he was trying to hold himself together, but he couldn't help but tilt his head to the side to give you better access. Steve shuddered when you bit softly at the sensitive spot under his jaw. You've had years to find all his sweet spots and today, you intended to use that knowledge.

You slid your hands under the apron next, feeling the warm expanse of his chest and stomach. The skin there prickled the moment you touched it, and Steve shivered pleasantly. He sucked in a deep breath but remained focused, flipping a pancake and placing it on the large plate on the side.

The lack of a reaction made you increase your advances. Your palms flattened over the slight pudge of his stomach that he still gets shy about when you stare too long. You smirked into his neck, an early warning that things were about to be a lot harder to ignore.

Your nails suddenly dragged downwards slightly. Over the cut of his hips. Into the waistband of his pants.

He breathed in sharply, his shoulders tensed so much that they almost went up to his ears. His whole body went rigid, and you could practically feel his heartbeat lurching out his chest.

"Baby..." He said, his voice rough and low. It's edged with that stubborn 'I'm really trying to stay responsible' tone he's been clinging to all morning. "The girls could be up any second. The pancakes. I– I gotta focus, sweet thing."

You hummed against the nape of his neck, retracting one hand only to slide it up his back, giving his ass a firm squeeze on the way. He squeeked, tensing again, practically vibrating with dwindling self-control. It doesn't get much easier for him because your hand slid up into his hair, tugging it firmly to move his head so that you could place an open-mouthed kiss directly over his pulse.

"I am focused." You murmured. "Very focused."

You watched as Steve still tried to stay calm. He'd already pouring another pancake, but now his arms were shaking with the effort not to grab you.

Seeing this, you took the opportunity to slip your other hand lower. It wrapped around his already hardened cock. It was already thick and weeping at the tip. You could feel it throbbing against your palm with barely controlled need.

Steve choked on a moan, his head dropped forward without conscious thought until his hair hung heavily in front of his eyes.

"Fuck– Sweetheart, don't–"

You ignored his plea, stroking again. It was a slow, firm motion that left your thumb circling the wet head. He bucked, a helpless little jerk that forced his hips to press back into you. The bowl he was holding was instantly put down on the side. The bang echoed with a deep finality.

Circling again, you chuckled as he braced both hands on the counter as if he was actually being fucked. His hands gripped the edge of the marble tightly, and his knuckles turned white with strain.

The smell of burning pancakes filled the air, and it snapped him out of his haze just long enough to grab the pan and flip it. The pan shook with the tremors from his hand, and he managed to slide the ready, if slightly crispy, pancake onto the plate.

"Baby, sweetie, love of my life, please. The pancakes– nghh- they're gonna burn–" He whined, still pushing his hips forward with every stroke, unable to deny you this pleasure.

"I'll have the burnt ones," you said cheerfully, continuing your movements.

You kissed his neck again. It's an open, wet kiss, your tongue tracing the indent your teeth made earlier. His neck sunk further, instinctively giving you more throat to bite on. So you did bite. And it was strong enough to make him let out a beautiful, quiet sob of pure pleasure as his hips threw a particularly strong thrust forward.

Given his response, you sucked a mean bruise info the soft flesh of his jaw.

His knees buckled– just a fraction, just enough to show his surrender.

You ground against his ass in a slow, deliberate roll. You felt him twitch. Felt the way he braced, his forearms locked, his shoulders rigid, like he was about to be fucked raw right here.

He groaned softly.

"Care–careful. M'gonna..." He trailed off into a quiet moan. "M'gonna burn the pancakes. Don't let me burn the fucking pancakes."

You laughed against his neck. It made his pulse jump. You couldn't help but find it endearing how even after all this, he still was trying to ensure his girls got their breakfast.

"Then pay attention, Stevie."

Then you sped up your motions. Just a little. Just enough that you could twist your hand on every upstroke.

Steve was fully rocking up into your hand now, letting out whimpering moans and gasps and trying to push back harder for more friction. You drew your tongue up his throat to bite the soft spot behind his ear and squeezed his weeping tip at the same time.

Your husband let out an honest to God pornographic moan so loud that he clamped one trembling hand over his mouth in hopes of silencing it. Too late.

He whimpered as you kept going.

"What– w'bout the girls... Baby, what if they come down?" He said, full of fresh clarity.

"They're fast asleep, honey." You replied. "But, you're right."

Steve breathed a sob of relief that only turned into another strangled moan as you picked up the pace until it was impossibly fast. He could feel your hardened nipples flush against his sweaty back. The speed was so deliciously unbearable that he seriously considered flipping the two of you. He held against it, though, knowing this morning it's you who wanted to be doing the heavy lifting.

You pressed your lips against his ear and repeat again, "You are so right, honey. So smart, baby. But, that just means you're gonna have to come a lot quicker. Can you do that for me? Can you come, Stevie?"

Your hand clenched the whole time as you dragged the it from top to bottom. He gritted his teeth and nodded frantically. Little moans escaped him, and his quiet gasps filled the air.

Your other hand that had previously been tugging and pulling at his hair (scratching his scalp until he was trembling) joined your right hand on his thick cock. You used both hands, making his eyes roll back into his head. He shuddered viciously and you reached back, giving his tight, drawn up balls some attention too. You squeezed and rolled them until the pleasure was unbearable.

He bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood and one of his large hands clamped down on your forearm for frantic support.

"C-coming– oh, Jesus, I'm gonna come! Fuck, baby please. Dont stop–dont stop–dont stop."

You felt his whole cock pulse with oncoming release and a warm gushing liquid poured out of his tip. It soaked your hand and the front of his sleep pants. Steve let out a drawn-out groan, leaning back into you as his shoulders sagged and his knees buckled with the force of his orgasm.

Both of you stayed like that for a moment. Breathing heavily and sharing sloppy, little kisses until he was able to stand up straight without support.

You licked your hand clean, keeping eye contact. He groaned, dragging his hands down his face, muttering a quiet but love-filled, "You're going to be the death of me, y'know?"

"I know," you said back, wiping your palm on the side of his pants, making him scoff in a over the top tone.

"What? You gotta change anyway." You shrugged, giving him a cheeky grin and leaning on your tiptoes to kiss him again.

Steve smiled fondly, pulling you back in for a proper 'Steve Harrington morning kiss'. The two of you sighed into each others mouths. You eventually broke apart. You washed your hands and went to the stove to finish off what little batter was left. He left to go clean himself up.

He took off his apron with exaggerated care (sighing that it would be scarred for life) and placing it on its designated hook. Then, he quickly fixed his hair to the best of his abilities and snuck off out the other door to head to the bathroom to have a shower.

You had half the mind to join him as you watched him leave the room. However, that thought was pushed out of your mind as Dia and Jane sleepily came downstairs, just missing Steve's escape.

They yawned loudly, Dia sneezing in the process and Jane scratching her head. Together, they made their way into the kitchen, both seeing you by the stove and trailing after you like lost ducklings.

Dia hugged your leg tightly, whinging a quiet "Mama," while Jane gave you a quick squeeze and tried to look over your shoulder to see what you were doing.

"Pancakes for breakfast?" You offered, tilting the pan so they could both see what was cooking.

Both their faces lit up like it was Christmas morning.

"Yes!" They both cheered as if the question had an obvious answer. Which, to be fair, it did.

"Thank you, mom!" Jane said excitedly.

Dia nuzzled into your leg, her little, chubby fingers squeezing your dressing gown tightly.

"Yes! T'ank you, mama!" She giggled, rubbing her face into the soft fluff.

Your heart melted at the sight of both of them.

"Aw, no problem, my babies."

You then lowered your voice like you were telling a secret, "But, make sure to thank Daddy when he comes in, yeah? It was his idea, I'm just helping."

"Otay!" Dia squealed happily, running off to try crawl up into her seat at the table.

You followed Dia and picked her up, holding her against your hip to place another kiss to her head and sat her down in her chair. When you turned back to the stove, you realized Jane already had a hand in the pancake mix and was licking the rest off her fingers.

"Jane Harrington!" You gasped with exaggerated offence.

She jumped at the noise, turning around and hiding her hands behind her back, flashing you one of her cutest smiles paired with the puppy dog eyes she definitely got from her father.

"Yes?" She said innocently, sliding away from the counter and towards you.

"Nu uh. That isn't going to work on me, young lady. I love ya, but that just cost you first dibs."

She gasped, her face dropping. "No fair!"

You gave her a pat on the back as you went to turn off the stove.

"Well, I don't make the rules." You shrugged, "Maybe, if you set the table and sit extra quietly, I might be able to bend it slightly. Okay? If your dad comes back and sees your good behaviour, maybe, and I mean maybe, he might let you have the first pancake."

You said all that knowing damn well Steve would fold the minuet he saw Jane's face. You just wanted to tease.

"Okay, mom!" Jane nodded, running to grab the spreads and toppings for the pancakes and then bringing them back to the table.

You sighed happily, leaning against the counter and letting the warm morning sun come in through the window and warm your back. Today would be a good day.

Authors note: I really love the idea of girl-dad Steve, and he will definitely be making a return. And yes, I had to have them name a child Jane after the end of the show. Steve will always hold El in his heart as one of his nuggets. <3

thinking about chris's obsession with creampies rn. seeing his quiet sobs about getting married and having kids is driving me nuts, leaving me wet every night like bffr. This is more than a smutty oneshot; this is a need... ૮ ྀི⳿ ◞ ◟ 𑁬ྀི ♡

tags : contains mature themes, sex, creampies, pregnancy topics, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f recieving), slight mention of public sex (if you squint your eyes), nicknames, mommy, and pregnancy kink

all credits to @miinhoo on tumblr, other socials on my profile.

𝒞hris is the type to take a few days off only to take you to your dream vacation destination, spoiling you however he can. Hawaii? You got it. Paris? As you wish. Rome? I hope you're already packed, because that man will give you whatever you ask for at the speed of light.

𝒞hris is the type to book the most luxurious hotel with the most mesmerising view for both of you. It had a meaningful reason though. Little did you know that there was no such thing as "rest" when you two finally entered and explored your new housing. He'd pick you up without hesitation, things still unpacked as he pressed you up against the marble kitchen counter, caressing your body as if it was some precious monument to him. There was nothing more prepossessing than seeing you right in front of a big, glassy window with a city view or the entrance of a beach balcony. And the danger of being seen? Adds even more to it.

"Look at you, baby...So angelic like that. I'm the luckiest to see this side of you..."

𝒞hris is the type to take his time when it comes to devouring you. He loves to put time and tension into these moments as they don't happen quite often due to his work. But when it actually does happen, you realise how worth the waiting was. His tongue makes you forget all your worries and bad thoughts. And then... once his plump lips meet your folds, you let out an euphonious voice you never thought you had in yourself.

𝒞hris is the type to get all groany and impatient once you start calling out his name like he was your god. Your saviour. It drives him crazy, making it so difficult to hold back from stuffing you full of his aching problem. It wasn't anything new for you to feel him grind against your clothed core either. Maybe he had a thing for making a mess?

"You drive me so mad with that beauty of yours..."

𝒞hris is the type to go slow and intense once he's buried balls deep inside of you, taking you to heaven with him in such an unchristian way. He'd talk you through it, saying how nicely you two fit together. a Damn puzzle. That's when it gets to him once again. His need to become your husband and the father of your kids. You can barely form a sentence as he's all mumbly about how beautiful you'd look if he got you pregnant right here, right now.

𝒞hris is the type to get lost in his own fantasies, begging you to officially take him as your man. This situation you two were in seemed the most ideal. Skin pressed up to skin. No ring needed, when you knew he would've given you the blue skies if you asked him to.

𝒞hris is the type to beg you for an allowance to finish inside of you, make it all so romantic and filthily messy at the same time. He's been dreaming about this for a while now. Just thinking about how happy you two (three...? four?...) could be together in the future... And there you are, agreeing on your husband's prayer... You clench around him, and he growls in an animalistic way once he hears that he's empowered to fulfill his deepest, sweetest fantasies.

"Will make you a mommy...Oh, mommy."

𝒞hris is the type who drabbles about nonsense at this point, marking you his own with tons of hickeys and love bites. His pace got unstable, voice whiny, and body melted into yours, holding you as close as possible once he finally reaches his high, not stopping till you see the stars aswell.

tags: established relationship; marriage couple; domestic fluff; mention of previous miscarriages; mention of conceiving; fear of inadequacy; soft Valarr; devoted Valarr; akotsk universe; 

A year after your second miscarriage, you try to convince your husband for another child, another shot at happiness you both so desperately desire.

words: 4.1k

The room reeks of memories.

You are trying to find another word for it other than reek . It’s proving to be way harder than you anticipated. Reek. Thick and bulky and almost tangible… not bad , certainly, but burning in its intensity to the point of being uncomfortable. Almost for you to touch and fold and make a different shape, form a different mold of it. Your room smells like crushed flowers and the tarty sweetness of Arbour wine (Valarr’s favorite) and the fresh, piney smell of your cologne. The darkness of the room cowers over you, even as the drapers from your windows blow with every gust of wind—spilling the silver moonlight over the room every once in a while. The flickering darkness brings memories too. Good ones, scary, aching ones. One that feels like a distant memory of someone else.

♈ ARIES JUPITER HUSBAND

The husband who says "I'll handle it" before knowing what "it" is. Buys plane tickets at 2 AM. Turns every argument into a challenge. Protective, passionate, and somehow always convinced you're soulmates in every lifetime.

♉ TAURUS JUPITER HUSBAND

Your personal provider fantasy. Remembers your coffee order, buys quality over quantity, and treats date nights like sacred rituals. The type to build a beautiful life brick by brick and insist you deserve the softest blankets on earth.

♊ GEMINI JUPITER HUSBAND

Best friend first, husband second. Sends memes while sitting next to you. Can talk for six hours straight about absolutely everything. Marriage feels less like a contract and more like an endless sleepover.

♋ CANCER JUPITER HUSBAND

Emotionally invested in your wellbeing like it's a full-time job. Keeps every sentimental item. Secretly cries during movies. The husband who creates a home so comforting you never want to leave.

♌ LEO JUPITER HUSBAND

Obsessed with spoiling you. Posts your photos like you're royalty. Loves loudly, dramatically, unapologetically. Wants the world to know exactly how lucky he is to have you.

♍ VIRGO JUPITER HUSBAND

Acts of service are his love language. Fixes problems before you notice them. Researches everything. May not write poetry, but he'll remember every detail about your life and make it easier in a hundred invisible ways.

♎ LIBRA JUPITER HUSBAND

Romance novel husband. Plans beautiful dates, values partnership, and genuinely wants your opinion. The type who still flirts with you ten years into marriage like you're meeting for the first time.

♏ SCORPIO JUPITER HUSBAND

Loyal to a terrifying degree. Reads your mood in three seconds. Protective, intense, and impossible to forget. Once he chooses you, everyone else becomes background noise.

♐ SAGITTARIUS JUPITER HUSBAND

Life becomes an adventure documentary. Encourages your dreams, books spontaneous trips, and refuses to let either of you stay stuck. Marriage feels like freedom, not limitation.

♑ CAPRICORN JUPITER HUSBAND

The "future husband" everyone secretly wants. Ambitious, dependable, and serious about commitment. Shows love through consistency. The type who builds an empire and makes sure you're standing beside him.

♒ AQUARIUS JUPITER HUSBAND

Unconventional soulmate energy. Respects your individuality. Supports every weird idea you have. Marriage feels less like tradition and more like two best friends creating their own universe.

♓ PISCES JUPITER HUSBAND

The dream husband archetype. Romantic, intuitive, and deeply compassionate. Looks at you like you're magic. Somehow turns ordinary moments into scenes from a love story.

💫 Jupiter Husband Placement Rule:

Toby fox, you freak, pulling me into drawing this ... Handsom, old husband in an apron <3