MORNING SHIFT AT THE SQUAWK
reader x steve harrington one shot!
cw: MDNI, smut, bigdick!steve, dom!steve, p in v, no protection, dirty talk uhm idk smut again?
an: first time writing anything spicy lol i hope you enjoy it! (divider by @saradika-graphics !)
The dress was a stupid idea.
You still wore it anyway.
It was too short. The fabric clung to your hips and rode up your thighs with every step, no matter how many times you tugged it down in the mirror that morning. You stood there longer than you should have, turning side to side, telling yourself she looked hot. Confident. Like someone who didn’t give a damn.
Like you weren’t putting it on for him.
But the lie sat heavy in your chest as you drove to WSQK, Fleetwood Mac playing low on the tape deck. Hawkins still carried that faint wrongness in the air. Occasional static on the radio, military trucks rumbling past in the distance. But you pushed it aside. Today wasn’t about any of that. Today was about proving something to yourself.
You just weren’t sure what.
When you pushed open the station door, the familiar smell of burnt coffee and old carpet hit you first. Robin’s voice spilled out from the booth, bright and rambling over the speakers about some listener’s request for Blondie.
You dropped your bag behind the counter and started sorting through yesterday’s notes—little scribbles and song ideas in your messy handwriting. You could feel Robin’s eyes on you before you even looked up.
Robin leaned out of the booth, mic muted. Her eyebrows shot up.
“Jesus Christ,” she said slowly, dragging her gaze over the dress. “You trying to start a war today?”
You shrugged, cheeks already warming. You tugged at the hem again out of habit. “It’s just a dress.”
Robin let out a low whistle. “Just a dress. Sure. Steve’s gonna lose his fucking mind the second he sees you.”
You chewed your bottom lip, that nervous little habit you couldn’t shake. “Good.”
Before Robin could tease you more, the back room door swung open.
Steve stepped out, mug of coffee in one hand, a stack of papers in the other. His hair was still a little messy from the drive over, Henley stretched across his shoulders in that way that always made you stupid. His eyes found you immediately.
And they stayed there.
He stopped mid-step. His gaze dragged down, It was slow and deliberate. taking in the tight fabric hugging your waist, the short hem, the long line of your legs. His throat worked as he swallowed.
He said your name. His voice came out rough, lower than usual. “What the hell are you wearing?”
You tilted your head, trying to play it cool even as heat pooled low in your belly. “Something comfortable.”
Steve set the mug down on the counter with a little too much force. He crossed the small space between you, stopping just close enough that you could smell his cologne and that warm, familiar Steve scent underneath. His eyes were dark, hungry.
“You wore that on purpose,” he said quietly.
You shrugged one shoulder, but your pulse was already racing. “Maybe I did.”
He didn’t touch you right away. Just stood there, looking at you like he was memorizing every inch. One hand finally lifted, fingers brushing the hem of your dress, tracing the edge where fabric met skin. The touch was light, but it sent electricity straight through you.
“You know what this does to me,” he murmured, voice dropping even lower. “Walking in here looking like sin. Chewing that damn lip.”
Your breath hitched. You could feel Robin watching you from the booth, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
“Tell me,” you whispered.
Steve leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Makes me want to drag you into the break room and fuck you until the only thing you can remember is how good i feel inside you.”
Your thighs pressed together instinctively. The words hit hard, straight and filthy, exactly the way you liked them from him.
Robin groaned loudly from the other side of the glass. “You two are disgusting. At least wait until I’m not stuck in here listening to you eye-fuck each other.”
Steve didn’t even glance at you. His fingers tightened slightly on your thigh, just under the hem. “Break room. Five minutes.”
You should have said no. You were supposed to be figuring things out, not falling right back into this hot, messy cycle. But the way he was looking at you— dark eyes, jaw tight, barely holding himself back, that made your decision easy.
You nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
You lasted maybe three minutes.
————————————————————————
The second the break room door clicked shut, Steve had you pressed against it, mouth crashing into yours with months of pent-up want. His hands roamed—gripping your waist, sliding down to squeeze your ass, pulling you tight against the hard line of his body.
“God, baby,” he groaned between kisses, nipping at your bottom lip. “You look so fucking good. This dress, fuck, it’s criminal.”
He spun you slowly, pressing your front to the cool door. One big hand shoved the hem of your dress up over your hips while the other tangled gently in your hair, tilting your head back so he could kiss along your neck. You felt him behind you, already hard. The thick bulge of his cock grinding slowly against your ass.
You whimpered quietly, pushing back into him.
Steve’s breath was hot against your ear. “You want it, pretty girl?”
“Yes,” you breathed. “Please.”
He took his time. Belt undone slowly, zipper loud in the quiet room. Then you felt the blunt, heavy head of his cock teasing your entrance. It was thick, hot, and so big it made your thighs tremble even before he pushed in.
He eased in inch by inch, stretching you open with that familiar, overwhelming fullness. You moaned softly, forehead pressed to the door as he bottomed out, hips flush against your ass.
“Fuck,” Steve groaned, voice wrecked. One arm banded around your waist, holding you steady. “So tight, pretty girl. Always take my dick so well. Look at you, taking every inch like you were made for it.”
He stayed there for a long moment, letting you adjust, lips pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck. Then he started moving. Those slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. The pace was unhurried, deliberate, each thrust deep enough to make you gasp.
“That’s it,” he murmured, one hand sliding down to rub slow circles over her clit. “Feel that? Feel how deep I am, babydoll? Gonna fuck you nice and slow until you’re shaking for me.”
Your legs trembled. The stretch, the fullness, the way he filled you so completely, it was almost too much. You moaned his name, pushing back to meet every thrust.
Steve kept the rhythm steady, praising you in that low, rough voice you loved. “Good girl. Such a good girl for me. Taking me so well.”
You came first, slow and deliberate, clenching around his thick length with a broken whimper. Steve groaned, hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge, burying himself deep and pulsing hot inside you.
You stayed locked together afterward, breathing hard. Steve pressed gentle kisses along your shoulder, his arms wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go.
“Missed this,” he whispered against your skin. “Missed you.”
You smiled, still glowing, heart too full. “Missed you too, Steve.”
You both cleaned up slowly, trading soft touches and lazy kisses. When you finally slipped back into the main area, Robin was waiting with an exaggerated sigh and a knowing smirk.
“You two are hopeless,” she said, shaking her head. “Callers are piling up. Try to keep your hands to yourselves for at least the next hour, yeah?”
You laughed softly, cheeks still flushed, and picked up your notes again. Steve’s hand brushed yours as he passed, warm and lingering, a quiet promise in his eyes.
It was just another morning at the Squawk.
But with the slow ache between your legs and the taste of him still on your lips, it felt like something a lot bigger.
And for now that was enough.
