#okayyyy enjoy :)

[chestharrington]

For A Good Time Call! || Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 14.6k

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Phone Sex Hotline Operator!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (phone sex, m & f masturbation (including pillow humping & sex toys), f!receiving oral sex, p in v sex), language, idiots in love, mutual pining, porn WITH plot

Summary: In the Summer of 1985, Steve's social standing is at an all time low. In an act of sheer, pathetic desperation, he calls a phone sex hotline. Little does he know, his dream girl from the hotline is just an escalator away.

Steve Harrington wasn’t the kind of guy who did this. He repeated it in his head as he scribbled down the phone number— fed straight to him from a local late-night advertisement. For a good time call!

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what that meant. And he wasn’t exactly able to ignore the way his dick twitched in his boxers as the commercial showed pretty girls twirling phone lines around manicured fingers, pretty smiles on their faces, eyes sultry and staring right through him. 

Plus, he wasn’t actually going to call. He was just… keeping the number for his records. He’d just put it in his Rolodex and forget about it. 

A week later, and he decidedly hadn’t forgotten about it. In fact, with the house empty and playboys not cutting it, it’s all he could think about. 

For a good time call. He wanted to have a good time. It had been a while since he had a good time— his stupid Scoops Ahoy uniform wasn’t exactly bolstering his natural charm. Robin could say what she wanted, but he was charming and fun and everything people usually want in a boyfriend. He was just… going through a rough patch. 

He retrieved his Rolodex and hurriedly flipped through, trying to remember where he’d hidden the number. Definitely not around his boss. And not around Nancy either. Tucked between Tommy and a past hookup, he found it. 

He set up his pillows behind his back and got comfortable before dialing the number with uncharacteristically sweaty hands. He was cooler than this was all making him seem. He was the playboy of Hawkins High— of Hawkins in general. Phone sex was nothing. 

As he dialed the number, he prepared to turn on his charm. Instead, he was led to a generic call-center script, which, after being carefully followed based on his wants and desires, took him to billing. 

“It’s a flat rate of twenty for your first ten minutes. If you finish before then, it’s still twenty, alright?”

He swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“After that, it’s fifty cents per minute. An hour session will run you about $55.” Oh. It certainly wasn’t cheap. He’d spent less on dates before. “Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah,” he said after a brief pause, his mind taking a while to catch up. “Do you need my credit card?”

By the time billing was over, his anticipation had tangled his stomach into knots. He glanced at the clock, wondering if those ten minutes would fly past him as fast as he thought they would. The line trilled as he waited to be connected to his partner for the night. Jenny. Like the song.

That song was gross, anyway. But how could he say anything about it now?

The ringing stopped, and he could hear the crackle of a quiet line on the other side, the rustle of movement. Did he need to say hi first? Was trying to start a conversation weird?

“Hi,” he said, and he wondered how he could make one word sound so utterly stupid. “Jenny, right?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed. He could picture you so clearly, despite knowing nothing— one of those pretty girls in the commercials, laying on your belly on a frilly pink bed, fingernails and toenails painted a shiny red, twirling the phone cord around your finger. “What should I call you?”

He swallowed. “Do people usually give you fake names?”

“Sometimes,” you replied. “It’s not about what other people do, baby. It’s about what you want. Do you want me to call you by a fake name?”

He wrinkled his nose. What was the worst thing that could come from a stranger knowing his first name? “No, that sounds awful. No offense.” You laughed, and he felt himself relax. “I’m Steve H—“ He cleared his throat. “Just Steve.”

“Well, I’m glad that I get to talk to you tonight Steve,” you said, and just the sultry timbre of your voice made his stomach do flips. “I’m guessing this is your first time?”

He furrowed his brows. “I’m not a virgin.”

“No, baby. I mean it seems like it’s your first time calling a hotline like this.” His face burned hot as he fumbled his way through answering, oh, yeah, I guess that’s right. “So, sweetheart, why don’t you tell me what you want?”

“Uh…” he paused, trying to think of a more polite way of saying to cum while a pretty girl talks to me. “I guess I’ve just been lonely.”

“Poor baby,” you said, and he was shocked that you didn’t have even a hint of amusement or mirth when you said it. “You want me to take care of you? Help you forget?”

His breath caught in his throat, stealing his response. His dick twitched, already half-hard and sensitive. All he could manage was a tiny whimper of, “Mhmm.”

“What do you usually think about when you’re touching yourself?” You asked, and the lack of shame in your voice made heat flare in his cheeks. He’d had some shameless hookups, but most of the girls he slept with didn’t like to talk about it. “Like, what’s your favorite fantasy, Steve?”

It was embarrassing. Mortifying, actually. It was basically the plot of a bad porno or a letter to Penthouse. 

Usually, it started by his pool. And a girl was there, wearing a cute, but ultimately tiny, bikini. The girl didn’t really matter. Well, she did, but it wasn’t about who she was. She could have been a Playmate of the Month, or a movie star, or a girl he was crushing on and wanted to ask out. All that mattered for the sake of the fantasy, was that she was pretty, had nice tits, and wanted him. 

“Does that make me awful?” He asked, pausing mid-description to gauge your perception of him. You laughed on the other end of the line. 

“God, Steve,” you said with thinly veiled amusement. “You think I give a personality and backstory to all of the people I fantasize about fucking?”

It made him feel a little better.

Anyways, there was something about summertime that just made sense to him. Skin all but steaming in the heat, the oiled up glow that came from sweaty skin. Wearing as few clothes as possible so you didn’t overheat. 

You gave a nervous laugh— breathy and sweet— on the other end of the line. “You’re really good at setting the scene, Steve.” He liked to be specific. He wanted to think about tiny details like the salty taste of skin or hair that smelled like chlorine and salt. “What’s next?”

She always started by laying on her stomach, the ties of her bikini undone so she didn’t get unsightly tan lines. She would peer at him over her shoulder with wide, innocent eyes while she asked if he could apply a bit more sunscreen on her back where she couldn’t reach. 

So he straddled her thighs, her skin burning up under his hands as he rubbed in the freezing cold sunscreen. Goosebumps would break out along her arms, and she’d have to arch away from the sensation, pushing her ass against him. 

“Are you hard already?” You asked, and his cheeks burned hot. 

“Like…” He glanced at his lap, where his cock was already straining against the fabric of his boxers. “In the fantasy or right now?”

“Is the answer the same for both?”

He let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“Keep going.”

He was already impatient. Skipped right to the kissing and cut out the context and actions that led to it. Did it matter? The bikini top fell onto the ground, and she was on top of him, tits pressed into his sun-warmed chest, tongue licking into his mouth. 

God, he fucking loved kissing. He’d missed it so much since he’d graduated and his social clout had depleted to fuck all. There had been dates, and messy, slow makeouts in the back of his car since walking the stage, but not one since his first shift at Scoops Ahoy. It was killing him.

She felt so good in his lap— so warm and heavy. He could have stayed like that forever— trapped beneath a pretty girl with her tongue down his throat. But he wanted more— he always wanted more. 

He wanted more then. As he relayed his fantasy to this stranger in painstaking detail, he ached for more. His hand was flat on his tummy, and he shivered as he slipped it beneath the band of his boxers to take his cock into his hand. He groaned, the back of his head knocking against the wall.

“God, you’re cute,” your voice was so pretty. He throbbed in his grip, making him exhale a shuddering breath. “It’s okay, Steve. You can keep touching yourself while you talk to me. I want you to.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, his voice broken by a tiny whimper. “I don’t have to.”

“I’m sure, baby,” you insisted. “What do you do next, hm? I’m on top of you, kissing you nice and slow, grinding my hips against yours because I just can’t help myself. Tell me what you’re going to do to me.”

“I’d—“ He swallows hard, eyes shut tight. “I’d want to taste you.”

In the fantasy, his hands gripped the back of your thighs, moving you up his body so you were just above his mouth. He was suave and sexy. He’d pull the bow at your hip with his teeth so your swim bottoms fell off like they were nothing. 

And it would feel so comfortable beneath you— so natural for him. He’d just barely have to lean forward to have his mouth on you, already wet so he could taste you on his tongue. He’d moan at your taste— he fucking loved the way pussy tasted, even if he got shit for it in the locker room when he admitted it— and pull you down onto his mouth so he could get impossibly closer. 

It would be messy— a mix of spit and slick on his mouth and chin, making the tip of his nose shine. He’d spend as long as he wanted beneath you, pulling every noise he could from your lips, trapped between your thighs. He wouldn’t stop until you came— once at a minimum, more if he was feeling greedy.

“All this attention on little old me,” you teased. “Would you let me take care of you? I could slip off those swim trunks of yours and make you feel good.”

He had set a steady pace— hand gliding up and down his length as his fantasy continued to evolve. “Yeah,” he managed, but his voice came out strangled and desperate. “You’d put your hand down my shorts and tease me. Your hand would feel so good. Warm and soft. You’d, uh, tell me how big I am, how you wanted to feel me stretch your uh— your—.”

“My what, baby?” Your voice dripped with amusement and mirth. “My pussy?”

“Fuck.” It came out with an exhale, his heart hammering.

“You like it when girls say dirty things to you, Steve?” You asked, and he could hear your smirk. “You want me to beg for your cock so deep inside of me that I feel you in my stomach? Or tell you how warm and wet and tight I feel around my fingers?”

Steve groaned, throbbing in his grip as he worked himself faster. “Fuck, are you really?”

“Mhmm,” you replied. “Think about how good I’d feel when you finally let yourself fuck me. You were such a gentleman first, but you don’t have to be with me. I want to make this all about you.”

But he was a gentleman. Of course he wanted to get his dick wet and et cetera, but that wasn’t really why he liked sex. He liked making people feel good all because of him— hearing the pretty noises they made, watching their initial shyness melt away into unabashed desire. 

A lot of the time (most of the time), he felt like a huge fuck-up. Abysmal grades (well, more around average), not good enough for sports scholarships, basically every bit the son that his parents didn’t want to have. Who could really blame him for relishing in the times when he could be good and impressive to someone other than himself?

Whatever. If he thought about that train of thought for more than, like, ten seconds, he’d lose his hard-on and probably start crying into the receiver and spilling all of his life’s worst moments. He really couldn’t imagine anything more pathetic than that. 

So he thought about something else. 

He thought about how he’d lay you down on a beach towel, warmed in the sun, cradled by plush grass beneath it. He’d feel awkward about shucking off his swim trunks— he always hated undressing because it felt so awkward. But you’d look at him like he was the most attractive guy in the whole world. 

He was a sap, what could he say? He would hold your hand too, squeezing it with his as he lined up with your entrance. You’d be so wet that it felt slick and he’d feel proud just knowing he did that to you.

When he finally pushed into you, your eyes would be locked on his, warm with emotion, like the entire world just melted away. And how could he not kiss you? When everything felt so good and your legs were wrapped around his waist and each breath was punctuated by soft, desperate sounds? 

It would feel special. With your foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air. He just wants to be as close to you as possible— needs to feel every inch of your skin, sweaty and sun-warmed, against his. He’d just… bury himself deep inside of you and grind into you. It felt more intimate that way.

He could feel himself getting close. A furrow formed between his brows as he chased his high. Moans broke up his words as he brought himself closer and closer. 

“I’d— fuck— I’d rub your clit. Make you cum before I got there. It’d feel so— so fucking good too. It always feels so good. Oh god. Fuck, I’m close.”

“Go ahead, baby. I want to hear you.”

His entire body shuddered as he came, spilling messily onto his belly and chest. It felt like it lasted forever— that warm, perfect feeling of reaching his peak. He was panting as he came down, stroking himself until overstimulation made him whimper. 

“Fuck… maybe I should pay you for that,” you said after a beat. “Did it feel good, Steve?  Feel a little less lonely?”

“Mhmm,” he replied. He was spent— already feeling languid and heavy. “That was… Really perfect.”

“I’m glad.” You paused again,  and he spent that time trying to catch his breath. “I’m on every night around this time. Like, from around ten to two. I’d like to hear more of your fantasies, maybe even act one out with you, if you’d want that?”

His heart hammered, and he felt incredibly stupid as a blush crept up his neck and cheeks. “Yeah, I’ll call you again soon.”

When you said your good nights, he laid back against his pillows. The dial tone played over the speakers as he stared up at his ceiling, spend cooling on his tummy. Leave it to King Steve to fall for someone he had to pay to talk to.

Your eyelids drooped as you manned the checkout counter at Waldenbooks, one of few stores at the mall that could actually be found vacant during a busy summer day. Last night had been a late one— it didn’t help that you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve, your mystery caller. 

It felt stupid to get hung up on the type of guy who had to call a hotline to get his rocks off, especially when you knew precious little about him. You had his name, his general location, that he had a pool, and he had a nice voice. 

Your bangs lifted as you blew a puff of air out the side of your lips, slowly going insane to the sound of Muzak playing softly through the speakers. 

Steve… Did you know any Steve’s? Steve Crandall got into a motorcycle wreck the year after graduation and died. Then there was Steve Odell who moved off to California on some crazy tech idea he swore was going to change the world. Steven Ferris? He seemed like the type, but there was no way he owned a pool since you were pretty sure he lived in the basement of some old couple’s house. That wiped out your graduating class, at least. 

From your perspective on the second floor, you had a perfect view of the fine piece of ass working the ice cream parlor. He was cute— definitely younger than you by a couple of years— and the stupid costume they had him in surprisingly did it for you. You could watch him mop up spilled sorbet all day and it’d be jerk-off material for the next week. 

  He had nice biceps. And thighs. Fucking hell, the things you’d do to get between those and —

“New releases?” You snap your gaze to the other side of the counter, where a woman with pink lipstick on her teeth looks at you impatiently. 

You plastered on a winning smile and pointed a manicured finger to the other side of the store. “That big shelf on the left-hand wall over there,” you said with saccharine sweetness. “Anything else that I can help you with, ma’am?” 

She frowned and you fought a grin. There was nothing that women pushing forty hated more than being called ma’am. You might as well have been telling them they had a foot in the grave. 

The day passed by with minimal hiccups. You convinced someone to buy your favorite book, so that was a win. And you’d gotten to restock the fun pencils. You clocked out and shrugged off the vest you wore on top of your normal clothes and took your hair down from its ponytail to hang loose on your shoulders. Your perm was kind of killing you. It never sat just how you wanted, almost like it had a mind of its own. 

You made your way out of the mall with a brief glance towards Scoops Ahoy, which was notably missing the hot guy you’d been lusting after since your first day on the job. With a dejected sigh, you escaped the crowded, piercingly loud mall and stepped into the hot summer air. 

Most people (or, more accurately, children) were heading for the busses that would shuttle people back into the town square or their respective neighborhoods, but your car waited for you in the exclusive Employees Only lot in the shade. As you turned to head that way, you bumped straight into a tall, firm figure. 

Huh, you thought. He smells like hot fudge and maraschino cherries. I like those things.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I thought you were headed for the bus like everyone else.”

You looked up, squinting against the sun, and felt heat flood your cheeks when you realized that it was the hot ice cream scooper. “Oh, it’s, uh—“ you stammered nervously. It was never as easy as the phone line. “I was too.” You wanted to hit yourself. What the hell were you even talking about?

His brows furrowed. “You were what?“

Fuck. “I… uh— don’t know,” you finally said, ready for the conversation to end forever. “I’ll see you around.” And you were gone. You almost missed him calling after you.

You will?

But you pretended you’d never heard it. 

——

Steve called at midnight, just as you brewed your second cup of coffee of the night. You took a quick sip as the call was directed your way, already feeling much more awake in anticipation of what lay ahead. 

“Hey, Steve,” you greeted, adjusting your voice to that casual, sexy cadence that you had perfected. “I was thinking about you all day today.”

Steve responded with a dismissive psh. “I’m going to pretend that’s true, because I was thinking of you too,” he said, and you could hear his grin. “I kept screwing up at work because I’d get distracted thinking about you.”

You felt heat creep into your cheeks. “Baby, you’ll make me blush.” You paused, chewing on your lip briefly. “So… what’s in the cards for tonight, Steve? What do you want to do with me?”

He paused so long that you almost thought the call had dropped, but eventually he worked up the nerve to continue. “Well, you heard my fantasy last time. This time I want to hear yours.”

You snorted a laugh. “Steve, baby, that’s so incredibly sweet, but you could hate it, or think it’s boring, and then I’ll feel guilty for wasting your money.”

“I won’t,” he insisted. “C’mon, it’ll help us get to know each other better.”

You exhaled slowly through your nose, your tummy already fluttering with thoughts of the hot sailor shelling out dollar ice cream cones with extra sprinkles on top. 

Fuck. 

“Alright, but if you hate it, you’ve gotta promise me that you’ll tell me to shut up and we’ll do something else.” He hummed in affirmation and you laid back against your pillows, sighing as you closed your eyes and fell into your newfound, perfect little fantasy. 

“So… when I’m not doing sexy phone calls, I work a menial job,” you begin. “And normally, I’d be, like, wearing an ugly polo or vest or something with our logo on it, but for the sake of sexiness, let’s say that I’m wearing a cute little dress and my hair looks, like, perfect.”

“What does your hair look like normally?” Steve asked, hung up on the one detail that was specifically for your sake. God, you wanted to burn your local salon to the ground. 

“Uh,” you paused, wondering if you should tell the truth. “So I told my hairstylist to go for Kelly LeBrock and she… you know… tried. It looks so cute sometimes, and then other times it has a total mind of its own.”

“Oh, Kelly LeBrock! She’s such a babe. I saw the trailer for that movie she’s gonna be in. Total fox. Great hair.”

You tried to fight a smile, but couldn’t. “Do you wanna talk hair routines, or do you want me to keep going?”

Steve paused like he was genuinely considering it. “We’ll come back to the hair. I could probably help you figure it out, you know. I’ve got great hair.”

You smirked. “Oh, yeah? Where?”

“Use your imagination.”

You grinned. Oh, I am.

You were stocking shelves, as usual— except this time you couldn’t reach the top shelf. Standing on your tiptoes, the hemline of your skirt inching up and up and up. And suddenly there was a presence behind you, reaching up to stock the shelf for you. He smelled really nice, felt warm pressed up against your back.

“Am I the handsome stranger in this scenario?”

You said yes, even though you were mostly thinking about your mystery sailor from the mall. God, even the stupid uniform did it for you. Maybe it was the short shorts.

In the fantasy, the two of you didn’t even talk— really, your fantasies were typically pretty straight to the point, unlike Steve’s. The plot and dialogue would get skipped, and then suddenly, your back was pressed against the ridges of the shelves and the handsome stranger was on his knees in front of you, kissing sloppily up your thighs. 

Usually, you’d have some sense of control— keep your hands above the belt. It was better for you that way. It gave you a sense of separation from what was real and what was happening on the phone. And, really, you never really had a particular need to touch yourself while you were handling the calls anyway. 

And yet… Your hand slipped past the elastic hand of your panties, between your thighs where you were already wet and needy from just your own imagination. You gasped into the phone, bucking your hips into your own touch. 

Steve made a choked sound, crackly through the phone’s speakers. He knew exactly what you were doing. 

“Getting all worked up thinking about it, huh?” He asked, and you could hear a slight rustling and movement as he got himself undressed. It was honestly puzzling that it took that long, or that he didn’t call already ready to go. “Sound so pretty.”

You weren’t even aware that you were making a significant amount of noise, but Steve had keyed into it easily, hanging onto every sigh and whimper. 

In your fantasy, his mouth was absolutely fucking sinful. He would moan against your cunt, nuzzling against your clit with his nose as he lapped up your slick. It was sloppy, and the sounds he made could have made the devil himself blush a burning red. His chin and mouth would drip with the combination of your juices and his spit— his fingernails leaving crescents in your thighs from where he held you tight. 

When he looked up at you from between your thighs, his gaze would be equal parts hungry and sweet. He wanted it to feel good for you because the more you get off, the better it felt for him too. When he felt you getting closer and closer, he moved his fingertip to your entrance, teasing you with featherlight grazes that gathered your essence. He pressed in, just to his first knuckle, and relished in the way you would clench around him at the smallest intrusion before he gave it to you entirely.

Despite the shitty quality of the phone, which was probably your fault, since you had owned it since at least ‘78, you could hear the slick sounds of him stroking himself to your words. And, for once, you relished in that noise across the line. 

You pushed a finger inside of yourself, then a second. Most guys you’d been with got that far then jammed them in and out at a wrist-killing speed until you faked it. Your thing was always just keeping them still, pressing against the sweet spot just barely a few inches inside. Paired with the dizzying pleasure of attention to your clit, the sensation was electric and all-consuming. 

It felt too good to stop, and yet you knew you needed to make it through your fantasy before you came and that precious euphoria rushed over you. Because after the euphoria came that strange sense of disgust, and you couldn’t really afford to spend the rest of the call grossed out by what you were doing. 

“Fuck, anyways,” you began, your breath coming in short pants. “He— you— would take off your shorts.” Stupid, tiny, tight shorts. “And, fuck, you’d already be so hard and needy. You just wanted me so bad. You would press me against the shelf and when you push into me it’d be so easy and slick and I’d feel so full.”

Your cunt pulsed around your fingers, so close to the edge that you could almost swear you were already over it. The precipice was so nice you almost didn’t mind waiting for it. You would hear Steve fucking his hand, pretty moans and grunts passing his lips as he brought himself closer. It wasn’t really fair to leave either one of you hanging much longer. 

“You’d kiss me. And it would be a little messy, but we wouldn’t care. You’d taste good, and you’d feel good. Fuck, Steve. I need to cum so bad.”

He panted into the phone and you practically mewled. God, he sounded so much better than the gross old men you usually had to deal with. “Fuck, I’m right here with you,” he managed, his voice breathy and desperate. “Let me hear you.”

Your ears rang as you came, making the world go a bit fuzzy. Distantly, you could hear how pretty Steve sounded as he came. Honestly, you’d never been one to relish in that type of thing— most guys you’d hooked up with kind of grossed you out. But, god, you’d give anything to watch him get off. Your chest heaved, rising and falling with a shiny sheen of sweat.

“So…” Steve began, sounding a little more languid and a lot more blissed out. There was a sweet, carefree quality to his voice. “Your fantasy is having sex at work?”

You rolled your eyes and fought a grin. “Hey, I didn’t judge your hot, sweaty poolside fuck session.”

”That was about making love,” He insisted. Your heart stuttered a bit. You had to admit that was sweet. “And I’m not knocking your fantasy— I just can’t even imagine someone wanting to have sex with me in my uniform.”

You grinned. “Aw, you have a uniform? I bet you look really sexy in it.”

He huffed, an annoyed groan escaping his lips. “No, I hate my uniform and I’m counting the days until I can rip it off and throw it in, like, a bonfire.”

“I can help with the ripping it off part, y’know,” you teased. 

“No,” he said firmly. “No, we’re not going there, because, one, I came so much I can’t even think about getting hard again or my dick will hurt, and two, if I start having workplace fantasies about you and my uniform I’ll get hard on the job and end up on a registry somewhere.”

“Alright, alright,” you said with a laugh. “I had fun tonight, Steve. I, uh, don’t really get a lot of people asking what I like. I don’t get anyone asking what I like, actually.”

“Well, what can I say? I’m just a pleaser, I guess.” 

He said his goodnights just before hanging up, promising to call again soon. You didn’t have a clear idea of when soon was. You’d had long-term customers promise a call soon that just dropped off the face of the earth. You laid there listening to the dial tone until it started to hurt your ears, then put the phone back on the receiver.

The bed creaked on its ancient springs as you got up, padding out into the hallway. Outside the big window at the end of the hall, you saw a lamp switch off across the street, making the house go dark. It felt a little comforting to know that boring old Hawkins was awake just like you were. 

In the bathroom, you washed your hands with cotton candy-scented soap and tugged at your misbehaving curls. Maybe you would take up Steve on his hair tips. Before you could think about Steve any longer, your phone rang again. And though part of you wished it would be Steve, you knew that there was such a thing as too soon to be ‘soon.’

There wasn’t really a point in pouting. It was decent money. You answered the phone, put on your fake voice, and got to work. 

Steve called nearly nightly for the next month. If having a backyard school wasn’t proof enough he was loaded, his ability to pay your rates nightly sealed the deal. 

It wasn’t always sexual. Well, to be fair, it was mostly sexual. No matter how much you looked forward to phone sex with Steve, you enjoyed talking to him just as much. You learned about his childhood dog, Walter, and his allegedly prodigy-like swimming skills. He was CPR certified, could say his ABCs in French (and nothing else), and loved the colors red, yellow, and blue.

You told him what you could without giving too much away. That Jenny, obviously, wasn’t your real name. Your favorite color, favorite book, favorite flower. You told him that you were in college, going back in the fall. That you only started doing this gig because textbooks were expensive and you wanted to be able to feed yourself while at school. 

Without meaning to, you started to care about Steve. It was probably stupid, and definitely against everything you thought you stood for. But somehow, he managed to squeeze into the recesses of your brain and set up camp there. Try as you might, you couldn’t get him out of your mind. 

“Alright, little Stevie, that’s your fifth wistful sigh of the day,” Robin said, marking a tally on her palm. It struck him as weird that she was counting, but it wasn’t exactly anything new. “You’ve gotta stop or I might actually start feeling bad for you.”

His chin rested in his hand, and he looked over at her with wide puppy dog eyes. “Can you love someone you’ve never met?”

Robin shrugged. “I dunno. Probably not, why?”

He sighed again, his shoulders sagging. “What if my dream girl isn’t exactly accessible? Like… she’s impossible to find and might not even live in Hawkins. She might live in, like, Indianapolis.”

Robin’s expression— the slight squint of her eyes and downturn to her lips— told him she didn’t particularly care. But the store was dead on a boring Tuesday, so digging into Steve’s life was about the only interesting thing to do on the job. 

“That sucks,” she said slowly. “How do you know this mystery soulmate?”

Steve blanched, picking at his nails as he tried to consider a reasonable excuse. “Uh… Blind setup. Very blind setup.” Robin raised an eyebrow. “I only know her number, nothing else.”

“Name?” Steve shook his head glumly. “Damn. But you think you love this girl?” Steve nodded again, but felt a little dumb. He never did things in half-measures. Never felt things that way either, so it made sense to him, but maybe it was a little crazy. 

He just couldn’t stop thinking about you. He wanted to help you with your bad perm and give you advice about how to take care of it. He wanted to surprise you at your boring job with lunch and flowers. It had been a long time since he’d been this excited about someone. 

A tinny beeping sound made him jolt, nearly slipping on the freshly mopped floor. Finally. He didn’t hesitate to tear off his work shirt, leaving him in the shorts and the white tee shirt he kept beneath it for this very reason— not having to walk out in public in full uniform.

He offered a quick bye to Robin and clocked out as quickly as he could. It had been only a week since Jenny had told him her favorite book, and he’d been saving up tips to pay for a copy at Waldenbooks. 

There was a girl behind the counter with a messy ponytail that had half-fallen-out, music blaring from her headphones. It must’ve been a mixtape because it went from some Hall and Oates song to an older Queen one. A little disjointed, but not in bad taste. She was completely immersed in the novel in her hand, so much so that she didn’t notice his presence.

“Excuse me?” He asked, putting on a winning smile. 

“What?” The girl in front of him blinked in surprise and tugged the headphones down around her neck. The music continued— saxophone and a dance beat. Staying Power. He liked that one. Once she’d paused it abruptly, she looked at him again, and he saw a glint of something in her eyes, like she recognized him.

“I’m looking for this book—“ He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket, where he had scribbled the title down as Jenny told him about it. “Do you know if it’s in stock?”

She looked at the note, then chewed on her lip anxiously. “Mhmm.” She watched him again, like she was expecting something. It took a moment, but it clicked. 

She’s the girl who bumped into him outside a month ago and said weird stuff! “Oh! You were right, I guess. About seeing me around.” He squinted, reading her name tag aloud. 

“Hm?” She blinked a few times, like she was taken out of a daydream. “Oh. Yeah, sorry about all of that. I just had a long day and my brain was fried.”

He nodded. “I get that,” he replied. “Next thing I know I’ll wake up from scooping ice cream in my sleep.” She laughed at that, a smile splitting across her features. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

Her expression faltered, just the tiniest bit. Almost enough that he wouldn’t notice, especially since she corrected it just as quickly. “I’ll go grab that book for you, ‘Kay? Just… stay here.”

She disappeared into the shelves, leaving him standing awkwardly at the counter. The store was oddly empty— he would’ve at least expected some nerdy kids like Dustin to be rooting around. When she returned, she seemed more nervous than before.

“Here, just take it—“ She said, shoving a beat-up-looking copy at him. His brows furrowed as he looked down at the copy in his hands. The cover was bent and torn in places. Corners of pages were dog eared, sticky note tabs stuck out from pages, and he could see glimpses of pen and highlighter. Noticing his confusion, she elaborated. “We’re out, but I had an old copy in my bag. I’ve already read it, so you can borrow it.”

He furrowed his brows. “Is that, like… allowed?”

“Probably!” She said with a startling lack of confidence. She swallowed, giving him an awkward smile. “Just bring it back when you’re done.”

He hesitated. “Uh… okay. Thanks.” He turned to walk away when she called out after him. 

 “Bye, Steve.” 

He wondered why that sounded so familiar. 

Fuck. 

“I mean… what are the odds?” You spoke aloud as you paced your room. When your reflection caught your attention, you felt, and looked, like a madwoman. “It’s not him. It’s not him, and I’m not going to worry about it.”

Five minutes later, you sat up in bed, unable to focus on the book you were reading. It was going to keep bothering you unless you did at least a little digging. But, Jesus, where did you even start with something like this?

“Hey, Rhonda?” You called, popping your head out of your room. “Do you remember any hot underclassmen named Steve from high school?”

Rhonda Finley was the prettiest girl from the class of ‘83. And it wasn’t an exaggeration either, seeing as she was voted Most Beautiful and Miss Hawkins within the same school year. The fact that you were even friends felt like a strange coincidence, but there you both were regardless. 

She carried all of her yearbooks into your room, settling onto the fluffy rug beside your bed. 

“You said his name is Steve?” She asked from her spot on the floor. She flipped through the old yearbook with reverence— pausing to look at photos of herself on other pages. “Steve… stevestevesteve. What about Stephen Cranston? He did the morning announcements, he was decent.”

You glanced at his picture briefly and shook your head. “No, not him,” you replied. “He’s cuter. Uh… boyish is a good word to describe him. Sharp nose and warm eyes.”

Rhonda snorted, flipping another page. “Okay, Shakespeare.” 

You chewed on your lip, watching her tab through until you made a squeak of recognition. The faintest glimpse of a younger Steve in a picture of a home economics class. “Ronnie, flip back,” you said, tapping her shoulder insistently. She did as you said and you pointed. “That’s him. Younger, but it’s him.”

She squinted, reading the small caption. “Sophomore Steve Harrington cooks up trouble in Mrs. Destefano’s Home Ec class!’” She laughed and flipped until she found the sophomore class portraits. “Yep. Steven Harrington.”

You sat back on your heels. “Huh.”

She closed the yearbook and glanced back at you. “I think I went to a pool party of his once,” Ronnie said, brows furrowed as she tried to find the memory. “He was friends with that freckle-y kid that my asshole ex was friends with. God, that was the night when we got into that screaming match and we broke up for like a month before he was begging for another chance.”

Pool party? You felt a knot in your stomach that you weren’t even sure you could have untangled at that point. Was it even possible that your mystery cute phone guy was the unbelievably attractive ice cream scooper at the mall?

No chance. You weren’t that lucky. And yet… maybe a seed of hope took root in your chest. And maybe… maybe you could get him to spill enough details to prove it. 

——

Steve called you around midnight. Your heart leapt into your throat as you answered, thrumming and threatening to burst from nerves. 

“Hey.” His voice was soft, a little tired. “I, uh, thought about you today.”

You could picture him so clearly— his soft hair, long legs, boyish charm. “Hope I wasn’t too distracting. Were you working today? What do you do?” You dug a little deeper with the question, trying to suss out any information you could. 

“Yeah,” he replied with a sigh. “I work in food service at a mall I live near. It’s nothing to write home about, I guess, but it’s temporary until I start applying for the spring semester.”

Okay, so there’s no doubt about it anymore. It was Steve Harrington, the hot ice cream scooper in the sailor suit, who was calling your line every night. The same Steve Harrington who you’d bumped into twice after your shift. 

You tried to push that aside and focus on the reason for the call. 

“So I was a welcome distraction, then?”

He laughed. “I can’t imagine a world where you aren’t.” He paused. “Did you, uh… think about me?”

The hope in his voice made your heart swell. “Of course I thought about you, baby. You’re my favorite caller.” You paused, debating your next move. “I’ve been thinking about getting you all needy and desperate for me all day. About hearing your pretty sounds.”

He fucking whimpered. “I’ve spent the entire night hard just waiting to call you.” You could hear him shuffle around on the other end of the call, presumably stripping off his remaining layers. “Didn’t want to be too desperate and call too fast.”

“Poor baby,” you cooed. “Can you do something for me? It’ll feel so good, I promise.”

“Mhmm.”

“Grab a pillow and lay on your stomach for me,” you instructed. Without hesitation, you could hear the staticky sound of movement on his end as he shifted. “This might sound weird, but—“

“You want me to… to like—“ he stammered nervously. “Hump it?”

You blanched, wondering if your perverse fantasies of the hot mall guy getting off had perhaps pushed him a bit too far. “I mean…. Only if you’re into it. We can do something else.”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, I’ve… I mean— I’ve done it before.”

Oh. Butterflies buzzed around your tummy as you let yourself indulge in the mental image. “Yeah? Did it feel good?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed. You could hear rustling on the phone, like he was trying to situate himself comfortably. “Just made a mess is all.”

Fucking hell. “You gonna make a mess for me tonight, then?” You asked, twirling the phone cord around your finger. He moaned in response, and you grinned. “Aw, did you already get started, sweetheart?”

He moaned out a confirmation and you grinned, letting your free hand trail down your belly and beneath the waistband of your panties. “You already sound so pretty, Steve. So good for me, doing exactly what I say.”

The breathy sounds of his pants and moans made slickness gather between your thighs. Sounded like he hadn’t been lying about being hard and desperate all night just anticipating the call. “We’re not gonna talk tonight, we’re just gonna listen to each other,” you told him. 

Maybe it was unfair to him that you had the perfect mental image of him in your head since you already knew what he looked like. You relished in that knowledge as you coated your fingers in your wetness and rubbed small circles around your clit. 

Steve was loud, which made you wonder if his neighbors hated him. If you had to live next door to Steve Harrington and his pornstar moans, you’d probably go crazy. You were going crazy just from being on the other end of the phone. You were louder than usual too— it was a miracle that Rhonda worked nights.

It wasn’t long before you both finished— gasping and moaning into the phone’s receiver. You sighed as you laid back against your pillows, completely sated and content as you listened to Steve’s shaky breaths. 

“How’re you feeling?” You asked, fighting the desire to twirl your hair around your fingers. 

“Good,” he said finally. “Gonna have to do laundry, wash my sheets. I probably needed to anyway.” He paused. “I picked up a copy of that book you were talking about. It’s actually funny, ‘cause they were out of copies apparently, but the girl behind the counter let me have hers. Like it was meant to be, or something.”

Your heart hammered. “That’s really sweet, Steve,” you said softly. “I’m sorry in advance if you hate it.”

“I won’t!” He insisted. “I read the first couple of pages while I waited to call. I’m not the best reader, though. Might take me a while to finish it, but I do like it so far.”

You were partially convinced that you were in love with Steve Harrington, despite the fact that he wouldn’t even recognize you on the street. “This might be… I mean, maybe it’s crossing a line, and I could totally get fired for even suggesting… but—“ You hesitated. Fuck it. “I want to give you my personal line. So you don’t have to pay to talk to me. It’s not fair if we’re both enjoying the conversations but only one of us is paying, you know?”

He was quiet, almost too quiet. Nerves stirred in your belly. “Is that… you know, okay?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he said quickly. “Let me just grab a pen.”

You couldn’t help but stare longingly down into the atrium of the mall, where Steve Harrington was sweeping crumbs off of one of the booths inside Scoops Ahoy.

“Hello?” A kid snapped his fingers a few times and you swallowed down your annoyance as you turned. “We called earlier about Ender’s Game. The guy on the phone said he’d hold three copies. It’s under Mike.”

You glanced behind you, where the books clearly weren’t. Fuck Greg for making your menial job even worse. “It must’ve slipped his mind. I can grab those for you.” The kid made a bitchy face as you stepped away from the counter and you bit your tongue to keep from saying something rude. Fucking latchkey kids.

When you returned with three copies of the book, you looked at the kids skeptically. “By the way, if you stole any of the pencils or bookmarks, my boss is going to take it out of my paycheck and I won’t be able to feed my kids.”

“It costs thirty cents to feed your kids?”

You sighed and rang them up, but they continued to loiter in the shelves while you pretended to be busy. 

“There’s nothing to do,” one of them said after picking up a copy of Sports Illustrated briefly. “We should just go back to my house and play Atari.”

A red-haired girl rolled her eyes. “Lucas, we’re not playing Pong again.” She paused and glanced down towards the food court. “We could go see Steve.”

It took all your willpower not to react. 

“Why do you always want to go see Steve?” Lucas asked. “It’s not like you have a boyfriend or anything.”

“She just wants to see him because she’s got some weird crush on him,” the bitchy one said. Mike? The red-haired girl blushed nearly as fiery as her hair and shoved Mike hard. “What? We all know it. You and El are always drooling over him. It’s weird.”

“He’s nice, okay? Way nicer than you are, asshole.” She shoved past the group and left on her own, leaving the other two guys to scramble after her. One kid was left behind, the one with the unfortunate bowl cut. He offered a wave before he followed after them. 

When they got downstairs, you watched him greet the redhead with a smile and a ruffle of her hair. Lucas and the bowl-cut kid got a slap on the back, and the bitchy one got a half-smile that wasn’t returned. 

Then he shelled out free ice cream, which was evident because none of them made a move to pay. 

After they left, you watched him reach into his own wallet and cover the cost, placing the bills carefully into the cash register. 

The rest of your shift was spent fawning over Steve and flipping through issues of the magazines you had on display. You felt idiotic gazing at Steve Harrington with puppy dog eyes while reading Top Ten Ways to Know if He’s Really Into You! Of course he wasn’t into you— he didn’t even know who you were, not really. 

Around two in the afternoon, you were snapped out of your reverie by the sight of Steve walking through the threshold of the shop, looking around the shop before his gaze settled on you and lit up in recognition. 

“Hi!” He said, nearly knocking over a carefully displayed unofficial biography of Reagan on his way over. You smiled, straightening your posture as he approached. “I wanted to thank you for the book.”

Your heart thumped. “Oh, you don’t need to thank me,” you insisted. “I just wanted to help.”

He reached into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out two coupons to Scoops Ahoy with a flourish. They advertised free ice cream in the nautical scrawl. “Does this change your mind?” He raised his brows and smiled smugly. 

You rolled your eyes and grabbed them, reading the fine print. Valid only at the Starcourt Mall location on weekdays between 8am and 11am. Offer not valid in conjunction with any other deals. Offer excludes banana splits, sundaes, and the U.S.S. Butterscotch.

“Maybe,” you replied. “Is free ice cream your thing or something? I saw you give that group of kids free sundaes earlier.”

He furrowed his brows, considering it, then grinned. “Are you watching me?”

Fuck. You spluttered, shaking your head as you fumbled through a response. “No. They were here first, then talked about going to see you, and then I just…” He laughed and leaned over the desk slightly, as if testing the view. 

“Oh, yeah. Perfect view from here.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat burning in your cheeks. “So you come here to thank me with shitty coupons, and then you accuse me of spying on you?”

He shook his head as he leaned back. “Hey, it’s not accusing you if it’s true.” He was so smug. “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. See you around?” He looked at you expectantly until you nodded, face burning hot. He smiled, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked out casually like he hadn’t just totally caught you creeping on him. 

God, you were going to make him pay for that later. 

——

Steve paced around his room as he tried to gain the courage to call you. He would have liked to say that he needed to get your number from his Rolodex, but he’d memorized it nearly the moment he put it down on paper. 

He was thinking of you, but he was also thinking about the girl from the mall who seemed to keep popping up. There was something about her, the way he was drawn to her, the way she spoke, the way she looked at him. It was all so familiar and easy, like they’d known each other forever. 

He didn’t know how to feel about that. 

Finally, he settled on his bed, dressed only in a thin white tank top and boxers that were a size too big since he stopped working out as much. With nerves buzzing in his ears, he dialed your number and waited. 

And waited. And waited. He swallowed hard, wondering if you’d given him a fake number just to be rid of him. The number went to the answering machine, and his mouth went dry. 

“Hi! You’ve reached Y/N Y/L/N. I’m out right now, but leave your name and number at the beep and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!” A beep sounded and Steve hung up suddenly. His stomach sank. 

He wasn’t supposed to know your real name like that. It felt like some gross intrusion. And yet, he repeated it over and over again in his mind. Why did it seem so familiar?

On his nightstand, the beat up paperback he had borrowed stood out like a sore thumb. Oh. The book, the same book you, Jenny, had told him about. And the girl who worked there… Y/N. 

It was too much, far too much to be a coincidence. He grabbed the book and opened it to look at the inside cover, where your name, Jenny’s name was scrawled inside. Because you and Jenny were the same person. 

Every single conversation leading up to that point played over in his mind. The messy perm, the shitty job with the ugly polo, the fantasy about being pushed against the shelves and fucked. Oh, God. And you were totally spying on him. 

It should’ve been an absolute win for him, but his stomach turned as he glanced over at the phone on the receiver. You were gorgeous and funny and smart and so sexy. Why would you want to be with someone who needed to call a sex hotline?

He could just picture the look on your face when you discovered that the guy who worked in the stupid uniform at Scoops was so pathetic that he needed to call someone to get attention. 

He swallowed hard, guilt and doubt settling icy in his stomach. He put the book down, and didn’t call back.

——

Steve was sulking during his shift. Probably biting the heads off of a few too many kids who asked for a few too many samples. 

“Jesus, how many times do you need to try cotton candy?” He snapped as he dug out a tiny spoonful of the pink and blue ice cream. The kid furrowed his brows up at him, puzzled by the sudden outburst. 

“Uh, can I try Cherries Jubilee next?” He asked hesitantly. 

Steve exhaled slowly through his nose. “No, you’re done. Out.”

The kid rolled his eyes, swore under his breath, and stomped out of Scoops Ahoy. 

Robin was staring at him funny when he turned around, a mix of curiosity and amusement. “You’re totally PMSing today.”

He couldn’t manage more than a scowl in response. “Shut up.”

Robin laughed and tossed a cherry at him, which he managed to catch before it splattered against the glass of the ice cream case. He hated maraschino cherries— the artificial sweetness and unnatural color. But, hey, he could tie a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue.

He hadn’t called you for three days, which felt like the longest stretch of time in his life. And he hadn’t even seen you around Starcourt, which was both a good thing and absolutely unbearable. 

Part of him wanted to just jump on the escalator and see if you were sitting behind the counter at Waldenbooks, but he knew it was better to just have a clean break. Maybe in a few months, you’d forget about that Steve guy who’d called you and he could make his move then.

The shift change hit around lunchtime, and Steve prepared for the influx of people who were getting off work on empty stomachs. As he suspected, the line stretched out the door and he was practically up to his elbows in ice cream, mindlessly scooping flavor combinations that should’ve been illegal. Until—

“Hey, Steve,” you said, standing in front of him in your ugly work polo with messy hair half-fallen out of your ponytail. “Staying busy?”

He stammered nervously and mumbled out an unintelligible response. “Ice cream?” Was all that he could manage to ask, which made him want to throw himself into the fountain right in the middle of the food court. 

But you just smiled. “A shake, actually. Chocolate banana if that’s possible.” He nodded and got to work, thankful for the distraction. Your eyes followed his every movement as he made your shake, but he couldn’t let himself look at you.

Because if he did really look at you, all he’d be able to think about were the phone calls you’d had— the calls where he’d heard you cum with breathy gasps and pants and soft whimpers. And— Jesus Christ— he was thinking about it and it made him feel dizzy. 

He used a little bit too much whipped cream and put rainbow sprinkles on top for God knows why, but he handed it to you with a weak smile. 

“Three bucks, right?” You asked, nodding to the menu.

“Uh, you can just have it,” he said without even thinking. “On the house.”

You furrowed your brows for a moment,  but smiled brightly. “Really? Thanks, Steve. I appreciate it.” You took a sip and gave a soft moan at the flavor that made a full-body chill run through him. “See you around?”

“Yeah. See you.” You gave a small wave before you disappeared into the food court. He watched you the whole way, like you were the only person in the room.

Fuck. He was hard. Like, rock hard and the stupid apron on the uniform only made it more obvious. He’d fucking pavloved himself to get turned on just by your voice. 

“Robin, I’m taking my fifteen,” he said, darting into the back before she could protest. He stepped inside the walk-in freezer and propped the door with a crate of waffle cones. After about five minutes, he felt like he could actually think again.

“Fuck,” He muttered under his breath. He had to call you again.

You were sincerely considering quitting the hotline. After Steve, just listening to the other guys panting and blowing their loads on the phone was nauseating. They didn’t care to learn more about you, not the way he did. They just wanted to get their rocks off to an anonymous, sexy voice. 

Then again, Steve had disappeared too. Maybe giving him your real number had crossed a line. Maybe it freaked him out that you were taking it beyond a transaction. You sighed and wrapped yourself tighter in your house coat. Rhonda always kept the AC on overdrive in the summer, which meant you needed at least two blankets to be comfortable. 

When the phone rang, you picked it up without thinking, half expecting it to be Rhonda calling you to check in during her break. 

“Hey,” you said absentmindedly, leaning back against your pillows. 

“This is, uh— this is the right number, right? It’s Steve.”

Your heart nearly burst out of your chest at the sound of his voice. “Hey, yeah, it’s the right number,” you assured. You wriggled out of your housecoat and tossed it to the side so you could get more comfortable. “How are you? It’s been a few days.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I, uh,” he paused. “I think I psyched myself out of calling you.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “Well, I’m glad you did call. I really missed you.”

“You did?”

You laughed, letting yourself get more comfortable. “Mhmm,” you replied. “I mean, we’ve been talking everyday for a while, you know?”

“I missed you too, couldn’t stop thinking about you, even at work.” You smiled, remembering how absentminded he had seemed when you showed up in the ice cream parlor. And he was thinking about you. Not you, but still you. “I— uh— had to walk into our deep freezer to cool myself off.”

“How long has it been for you?” You asked suddenly. “Like, since you’ve had sex.”

Steve chuckled nervously. “I dunno… two months?” He paused. “Is that lame?”

“Nuh-uh, baby,” you assured. “Think it’s sweet. No wonder you’re all needy all the time. You need a nice, tight, wet pussy to sink into, hm?”

A low moan escaped his lips. “God—“

“Better than your hand, isn’t it?” You teased. “I bet you’re so desperate that you’ve been touching yourself this whole time, even before you called me. Isn’t that right?”

The closest thing you got in response was another pretty moan. “You’re big too, aren’t you?” You mused aloud, not even waiting for a response. “I know you are, you’ve basically told me in not so many words. Most girls can’t handle that, baby. It’s not your fault. That’s okay, we could take it slow, you could get me all nice and stretched for you, take your time like the gentleman you are.”

“Fuck— fuck—“ His words came out choked and desperate. You could almost picture it— the way he’d be fucking up into his hand, needing more and more.

“I bet you always have to take it real slow, huh? Gotta be careful so you don’t hurt someone. But that just means you can feel everything better, doesn’t it? Inch by inch by inch, every flutter and squeeze. And you can see on their faces how good it feels, can’t you? You can watch their eyes roll back and their mouths fall open while they cry out for you. I mean, Jesus, Steve, I bet most girls come before you’re even all the way inside.”

His hand sped up, desperate and needy, just as you’d said. You could hear it with each wet slap of skin against skin. His moans were constant, a stream of yesahgodfuckohshitahyesahfuckfuckfuck— until the prettiest moan escaped his lips, all low and deep, and you knew he’d made a pretty mess of himself. 

“Bet that felt really nice,” you said while he panted on the other end of the line. 

He made a weak noise, then finally managed a, “Uh-huh. Fuck.”

You laughed softly. “That’s gotta be the fastest I’ve gotten you off,” you said finally. “I like having that much power over you. It turns me on so much.”

He groaned. “Fuck, give me five— no— ten minutes. I can barely breathe right now.”

You grinned, relishing in your ability to torture him a bit after he’d teased you at work. Unknowingly, of course, but still. “I dunno if I can wait that long, Steve… I’m so wet that my thighs are all sticky.”

“God, you’re killing me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatics. “Why don’t you lay there and listen to me? Be good and keep your hands off, alright? You already came, so don’t get greedy.”

He made a nearly pained noise. “Fine. Fine.”

A smirk spread across your lips as you let your hand move between your thighs. Really, you weren’t exaggerating that much— you found yourself slick and needy when you finally slid your panties down your thighs. Actually, you thought you’d probably have to be a statue to hear Steve Harrington panting and cumming over the phone and stay unaffected.

You could hear his breath catch with every soft moan and whimper, and maybe you got mean and held the phone near your tummy, so he could hear just how wet and messy you’d gotten as you steadily fucked yourself with your fingers. When you got desperate enough, you held the phone against your ear once more. 

“I dunno, Steve… I don’t think my fingers can cut it,” you said, exaggerating the pouty tone of your voice. “I wish you were here to take care of me.”

He groaned, low and muffled. You had a feeling he’d thrown an arm over his face. “You’re so unfair.”

A smile spread across your lips at his words. “No, baby. What’s unfair is that I’m laying here all alone, feeling so empty and needy, and you’re not here to make it all better.” You reached into your nightstand, pulling out the dildo you’d bought for your twentieth birthday. “‘S okay, I can take care of myself just fine. You ever been to a sex shop?”

It got quiet on the line, and you could nearly hear the gears turning. 

“N-no.”

You raised a brow. “Really? But you know what they sell, don’t you?” You paused until he hummed a soft uh-huh. “It’s only fair that I get to use a toy to fill myself up since you can’t do it for me, right?”

“Y-yeah, wanna hear you do it.”

You grinned. “Patience, baby. Gotta get it wet first so it glides in nice and easy.”

Blowing a rubber dick wasn’t how you’d envisioned ending your day, but— what can you say?— spontaneity is the spice of life. You made sure he heard every wet pass of it between your lips, every exaggerated gag as you took it into your throat, the messy smack of your lips. It tasted like a tire and dish soap, but the desperate, restrained sounds he was making made it all worth it. 

Your eyes were watery when you finally pulled the toy from your mouth, certain you’d adequately worked him up for the time being. Plus, you were worked up just as much, if not more— you wanted to just fuck yourself into oblivion already. 

Instinctively, your thighs fell farther apart as you moved the toy between your legs. You let the tip tease your entrance, only a little, before you began to push it inside. A soft moan fell from your lips as you finally got the nice, full feeling you’d been dreaming of. 

You laid there for a moment, letting your body adjust to it, reveling in it. With your free hand, you slowly circled your clit until your cunt fluttered around the intrusion. 

“Feels so nice,” you sighed, lips brushing against the mouthpiece of the phone. You felt drunk and hazy with desire. “Like I’m so close already that I can taste it.”

“Make yourself come for me,” he practically begged. “Wanna hear it.”

You moaned at his words, but shook your head. “Can’t yet. I wanna make this last.”

Time felt a little hazy as you kept working the toy in and out, slow and deep. Occasionally, you’d brush against your clit just right, or the toy would find a nice spot inside of you, and your entire body would tremble with need. 

Steve’s breath came in pants over the phone, but you couldn’t tell if he had broken and actually started to touch himself. You kind of hoped he did, even if you wouldn’t say it. 

Eventually, you came without warning— the build-up of it all made it impossible to avoid. Once you started over that edge, you couldn’t crawl back even if you’d wanted to. Moans fell from your lips as you succumbed to your orgasm; every nerve was like a live wire. When it finally came to be too much, you slipped the toy out and relaxed onto your bed with a contented sigh. 

“Are you still alive?” You asked, quiet crackling over the phone. 

“Uh… yeah,” he replied, a little distracted. “Have you ever come without having to touch yourself?”

You laughed softly. “Once. I read in Cosmo that some girls can get off just from playing with their tits. Took a while, but I eventually got there. Why?”

“I just, uh… listening to you, all the noises and hearing how wet you were… I guess that was all it took.” He sounded so embarrassed, but it was the cutest fucking thing you’d ever heard. You could imagine it so clearly, his cock pulsing against his twitching stomach, cum making puddles around his navel. 

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” you said with a smile. “You’re probably exhausted, huh?”

He laughed a bit. “A little, but I can stay up and talk, if you’re free.”

Ever the gentleman, Steve stayed up another hour to talk about whatever you could think of to keep the conversation running. The new collection at The Gap, whether or not he planned to see Back to the Future, his favorite music got him talking for half an hour at least. Finally, you were yawning and beat. 

“Steve, baby, I should go to sleep,” you said, almost apologetically. 

“That’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You froze, brows furrowing. “What?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeated, sleepily. “At the mall.”

“Um… night,” you said quickly, panicking slightly as you hung up the phone.

Steve had mopped the same spot on the floor five times during his shift, all while sparing fleeting glances towards Waldenbooks, where you were immersed in a magazine or a book. Always doing anything but looking down at him. 

Which was good… maybe? He couldn’t quite decide.

He hadn’t been thinking when he said that on the phone. But he was sleepy, and his brain was a little foggy, and then he’d gone and doubled down. 

As soon as he hung up the phone, he remembered that he had given his real name, and you knew he worked in food service, and you knew he wore a stupid uniform. That narrowed it down really easily. 

So he spent his shift in a constant state of dread and panic, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

By the time the mall was closing, he had occupied himself with wiping down tables. He let Robin head home and pulled out his Walkman to keep him company. Since working at Starcourt, he made a pretty sick collection of tapes that wound up in the lost and found. This one was a metal mix, which typically wasn’t his thing, but was growing on him. 

He didn’t realize you were standing over him until you rapped twice on the table, drawing his eyes up, up, up until they were locked with yours. He scrambled to pause the tape and stand up, adjusting his stupid uniform as an embarrassed blush grew on his cheeks. 

“Hi,” you greeted. Your Waldenbooks vest hung loosely on your form, right on top of a pink polo. 

“Hi,” he echoed. It was quiet for a second, as he tried to think of what to say, and as you scrambled for the words you’d been practicing all day. “I’ve known it was you for a while.” The words escaped him before he could stop himself, and then he just stared at you, completely mortified. 

You laughed, covering your face for a moment as heat flooded your cheeks. “You knew? I didn’t even— I mean, I didn’t realize. Because I knew it was you calling. For a while, actually. 

He grinned, leaning forward. “So… the guy you said you wanted to… against the shelves…?” When you ducked your head and looked away, he smiled like the cat who got the cream. “No way. You were totally perving on me, even before!”

“You had to walk into a deep freezer to cool off because you were thinking about me, perv.” He laughed, and you wanted to kiss him so badly it freaked you out a little. “So… What do we do now? I mean, now that you know who I am, and I know who you are, and we’re going to keep running into each other.”

Your poor cuticles were going through the wringer— red and stinging where you picked at them due to nerves. There was nothing you wanted more than for him to just sweep you into his arms like some kind of fairytale and promise his undying devotion. Or just say he wanted to date you. Whichever.

“I could take you on a date,” he said sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. “I mean, if your type is total pervs who spend most of the week in sailor uniforms.”

Oh, you had plans for that sailor uniform. You stepped forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I think you just might be in luck.” He turned his head, just slightly, so he could capture your mouth with his. 

The kiss was sweet, at first. Slow brushes of his lips against yours. They tasted sweet, like he’d been wearing lip smackers or something. Or maybe he’d been sneaking samples of the ice cream. He pulled you closer and you gasped, offering him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moaned softly at the feeling of your tongue licking against his. 

He picked you up easily, sitting you down on the table he should’ve been cleaning. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms around his neck. It was easy to lose yourself in the hungry, desperate way Steve kissed. You could’ve stayed right there in the middle of Scoops making out with him until the mall opened in the morning, and still not have found the motivation to stop. 

A bright light startled you back into reality, shining directly in your faces. You and Steve squinted in the general direction, as Starcourt security stomped your way. 

“Hey! Get the fuck home,” He shouted, with equal amounts of exasperation and annoyance. He clicked off the flashlight and walked away with a huff and an eye roll, leaving you and Steve alone.

Steve’s cheeks were flushed pink with embarrassment as he stepped back, but he still wore a dopey grin on his lips. You hopped off the table and adjusted your skirt with a light laugh. 

“That was nice,” You said as you tucked a loose curl behind your ear. “I should leave you to it, I guess. Before we both end up in mall jail.” 

He shook his head quickly. “No! I mean, you could hang out here until I’m done. I just have a few more tables to clean and chairs to stack, if you want to—” He trailed off, looking at you expectantly. 

A sly grin spread across your features. “What? Are you trying to go home with me or something?” He stammered nervously, that same, cute blush growing on his cheeks. Before he could say anything, you took a step closer and peered up at him. “Because if you are, I might tell you that my roommate works nights at Hawkins General, and we’d have it conveniently all to ourselves.”

He swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to do.”

You sat in the booth nearest to the entrance of the parlor, flipping through a magazine you’d grabbed from work. Occasionally, you’d sneak tiny peeks of Steve bent over a table to wipe it down, uniform stretched tight over his ass, and grin behind the pages. 

He got everything locked up in what he claimed was record time, flashing a smile as he closed up shop behind the two of you.

”Do you work tomorrow?” You asked, as casually as possible as the two of you approached your cars in the employee lot. 

“Yep. Afternoon shift,” he explained.

“I’ll drive you. We’ll carpool tonight.”

The car ride was relatively tame, a few stolen glances at stoplights at most. When you brought him inside the house, your phone was ringing off the hook. You apologized and ushered him into your room, where, true enough, the spare phone you used for the hotline was ringing nonstop. 

“Sorry, let me just…” You grabbed the phone and hung it up once, before taking it off the receiver completely. “There. No interruptions.”

Steve grinned, surveying your room carefully. The set of pom-poms from high school on a shelf, a stack of Cosmopolitan magazines, the chair full of your laundry— fuck, you should’ve definitely taken a moment to speed clean before letting him inside. 

“So… what do you say we pick up where we left off?” You stood on your tiptoes and pecked his lips chastely before guiding him towards your bed. As soon as he sat down, you wasted no time in crawling into his lap and kissing him with all of the pent-up frustration of weeks of phone calls. 

You kissed him for so long you’d have to come up panting for air, before diving right back in. His hands— Jesus, you’d never noticed how big his hands were— were splayed out over your hips at first, but had moved down to grab your ass, encouraging each movement as you rocked against him. 

Without breaking the kiss, you shrugged off your work vest, so it fell into a heap over the side of your bed. He pulled back, chest heaving slightly as he caught his breath. His lips were swollen from use and spit-slick. His eyes moved from the vest on the ground, then back to your eyes. A tiny laugh escaped you before you pulled off your top, then your bra. 

“This still okay?” You asked, as you stood briefly and tugged down your denim skirt. The sound of your voice felt almost foreign in the quiet room, while he took in the sight of you in nothing but a pair of panties.

“God, more than okay,” he assured, before pulling you onto his lap for another heated kiss. This kiss was needier— you could feel it in the hungry way he licked into your mouth, and the feel of him hard beneath you. Tiny gasps pushed past your lips as you rocked against him just right. 

He moved his hands from you only to pull off his work shirt, and the white shirt he wore beneath it. Your hands immediately went to his chest, running through the chest hair he’d hidden beneath the uniform. How the fuck did he manage to walk out of his house without being immediately pounced on by every woman in a five-mile radius?

 He placed one final kiss on your lips before pulling back and meeting your gaze. As earnestly as you’d ever, he asked, “Can I go down on you?”

Yes. Fuck, yes. Oh my god, yes. “Sure, if you want to.”

He smiled wide. “Yeah? Just relax for me, alright?” He shifted the two of you, so you were lying on the bed and he was on top of you. He planted a chaste peck on your nose, and you wrinkled it in reaction. 

You kissed him one, fleetingly, before letting him kiss down your chest and tummy. He parted your thighs and carefully positioned himself between them. You met his gaze and felt your stomach somersault. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the damp fabric of your panties.,

“Fuck,” he mumbled against you. “You’re soaking for me, huh?” And there was that cocky grin you’d seen at the mall before. You had to lie back and put a hand over your eyes, because if you thought about that fucking smug expression for too long, you’d cum untouched. 

He ran his tongue over the fabric of your panties, tasting you through the saturated satin once, twice before he pulled them down your legs. And he fucking moaned like a man starved at the sight of you. 

Heat burned in your cheeks as you felt him spreading you open, and at the slick, wet sounds of your own arousal. “You’re so pretty.” And then his tongue was on you, lapping up your juices, savoring all of you. 

“O-oh, fuck—“ Your moan came out like a sob as his nose brushed against your clit, making your thighs tremble. He moaned against your cunt, nuzzling deeper like he couldn’t get enough. 

In retrospect, he had brought up how much he loved eating pussy a lot on that first call. Your hips bucked slightly, torn between chasing the feeling and overstimulation. His lips would wrap around your clit and suck softly before he would go back to lapping at you, his tongue parting your folds and teasing your entrance. 

“St-Steve!” You cried out, fingers tangling in his hair. The slightest tug on his locks made him moan against you, which made your toes curl. 

Your moans became pitchy and breathless as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. All of your muscles were wound up tight, itching for release. 

All it took was a little bit of eye contact and you were done for. You sobbed out a moan as he lapped up your release— each lap of his tongue sending electricity up your nerves. When he finally relented, you were shaking with aftershocks and giggling. 

“Something funny?” He asked with a grin as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

You sighed and spared a glance over at him. “I’ve been dreaming of that happening since our first call.” He grinned as you pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. 

“Did it meet your expectations?” He asked, swallowing nervously as you shifted to accommodate your hand between the two of you. His eyes fluttered shut as your hand slipped beneath his work shorts and boxers to grasp his cock in your hand. 

You gave a slow, experimental stroke of your hand and nodded. “Two thumbs up.”

He swallowed hard as you removed your hand to completely undress him, leaving you both completely naked. You spit into your hand and wrapped it back around his length, holding eye contact as you jerked him off.

There was something so surreal about the entire situation— having him beneath you, warm and pulsing and slick in your hand. Each time your thumb brushed along the head of his cock, he cried out with the prettiest moan.

“W-wait—“ he said quickly, a look of panic in his eyes. You stilled your hand as he looked at you, a pretty blush painting his cheeks. “I’m not gonna last.”

You bit your to keep from grinning like an idiot. “That’s okay,” you said with a smile. You reached into your bedside table and retrieved a condom. “Do you want to, uh, go all the way?” 

He nodded quickly. “Yes. Yes, please.”

You tore open the packet and rolled the condom on. “How’s that feel? Alright?” He gave a dorky thumbs up, which made you laugh. You leaned down to kiss him once more and wondered if you’d ever get tired of that feeling. 

You reached between the two of you and guided his tip through your folds, coating it in your arousal until you grew too needy and lined him up with your entrance. It was a stretch, even though he’d gotten you plenty worked up with his mouth. You sank down slowly, one hand splayed against his chest to keep you steady as you took in inch after inch. 

The sounds that escaped him as you lowered yourself onto him were so pornographic you thought he should be the one working the hotline instead. Desperate panting moans slipped past his full lips as his hands clawed at your hips.

“Fuck,” he moaned, eyes half-lidded as he watched you. “That’s it. You can take it.”

The mouth on him. You moaned softly as you finally settled onto his lap and he was fully sheathed within you. You stayed still, letting your body adjust to and relish in how full you felt. 

“You look so pretty right now,” he said, reaching up to brush a messy hair from your face. You laughed softly as your cheeks warmed, and a funny fluttering in your chest nearly stole your breath.

“Says you,” was all you could manage to say back. You were hyper-aware of the feeling of him within you, of each flutter of your walls around him.

You gave an experimental roll of your hips and his head fell back, against the pillows, exposing the column of his throat. You relished in the way he looked beneath you— debauched and needy. 

It was easy and slow at first. Each time you moved, you would lower yourself back down slowly, letting him savor the feeling of you, warm and wet and needy. He groaned each time you settled back on his lap, eyes hooded with lust as he looked up at you.

You gave a lazy smile as you looked down at him, moaning each time his cock brushed against your sweet spot. “Can I go a little faster?”

He nodded, eager for whatever you could give him. Your nails raked against his chest as you began to ride him in earnest, the back of your thighs slapping against his as you bounced on his cock. 

Your head fell back as you rubbed at your clit with your free hand. Soft moans spilled from your lips as you relished in the culmination of all of your fantasies. Because he was there, splayed out beneath you like a fucking pornstar, and you had him all to yourself. 

His fingers dug into the plush of your hips as he began meeting your thrusts halfway, fucking into the heaven between your thighs. 

Your eyes rolled back as he fucked himself deeper and deeper, stealing your breath with each thrust. “Close,” you practically squeaked out. Red marks stood out against the freckles skin of his chest where you searched desperately for purchase. 

Steve’s hair was stuck to his forehead, tacky from exertion. “Need you to cum for me,” he managed between pretty moans. “Wanna feel you cumming around me.”

You whimpered at his words, riding him harder as your orgasm hit like a tidal wave. A fucked-out moan escaped you as you collapsed against his chest, hips weakly stuttering as Steve continued fucking up into you. With your pussy gripping him like a vise, he could only manage a few good thrusts before he came with a groan. 

You laid there on top of him as you caught your breath, wearing a stupid, giddy smile as he traced mindless shapes onto your back. His face was buried in your neck, where he left sweet, wet kisses. After a while, you slid off of him and sighed, missing the way it felt when he was still buried inside of you. You did your best to clean yourself off with the towel hanging from your bedpost as Steve tied off the condom and tossed it in the bin. 

“We’re not just…” Steve began once you were both comfortable in your bed. He let the words linger for a moment before he shook his head. “Never mind.”

You turned on your side to face him, adjusting your blankets for a bit of modesty. “We’re not just fucking? That’s what you’re asking, right?” He nodded quietly. “It was nice, but no, that’s not all I want.”

He grinned. “Yeah? You wanna be my girlfriend? I totally pulled a cougar.” His stupid grin made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t keep a matching smile off of yours. 

“You’re so annoying,” you said, not giving him a second to react before your lips were on his again. You pulled back and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. 

In the morning, you woke up in his arms as sunlight crept through the window. You squinted at the sun, then back at him. “Still want me to drive you to work?”

“No way,” he said, muffled against the column of your throat. Soft kisses peppered against your skin, making you giggle and arch into him. “I’m calling in.”

[luxeslore]

CAT NAP | SIMON RILEY

(✉️ᝰ.ᐟ♥︎) 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯𝐸𝒟 — We need more hybrid!reader !!! Wether it be kitty or puppy is up to you, but hybrid!reader x 141 or just x who ever you choose [AO3 LINK]

WORD COUNT… 2.1k WARNINGS… 18+ CONTENT, MDNI. hybrid + kitty!reader, petnames [kitty, kitten, pet], daddy-dom/owner!simon, scent kink, mentions of prior neglect, mentions of murder, fingering [r. receiving], use of kittycunt, breeding kink.

You’re curled up in bed. Simon would be lying if he said he was surprised. He scoffs over your slumbering form, eyes trailing down to your soft tummy and cute undies that have been exposed due to your tossing and turning. Curling and uncurling yourself into the sheets that smell just like him— he’ll never understand that this bed is your own personal heaven. And wearing one of his shirts while you take your naps makes it even more divine. 

“Sleepy kitty,” Simon mutters softly, words coming out as affectionately as they possibly can. He brings a heavy hand to rub the top of your head, right between your fluffy ears, and he revels in the startled but satisfied purr that vibrates your frame. 

It seems the gentle touch has triggered something in you as you roll over, throwing your arms over your head and twisting your face up. Your body tenses for a moment. Simon’s voice finally falls on your ears now that you’re just barely coherent; “Big stretch— tha’s my good, little pet!”

Each syllable is elongated and sugar coated, making a warm feeling bloom in your chest before Simon even dives into the sheets with you. You sniff a few times. Fresh and clean body wash, even some aftershave— he’s showered. At the realization, your nose scrunches. You enjoy his natural scent. The woody musk, a hint of smoke and sometimes whisky if he needs a stiff drink after work. It’s spicy and comforting. You missed out on getting whiff when he first got home. You snooze, you lose, you pout. Already pouting and you haven’t even opened your eyes fully. 

“Don’t make that face,” the words are grumbled; he knows what your issue is. Still, he’s caging you in whilst he speaks. Tattooed arms locking around your waist in a tight hold while his stubble scrubs against your cheek. You look up at him in the middle of a yawn, melting into him as you wrap your arms around his neck. Not before you rub your eyes, though. 

“Missed you, daddy,” you whisper, slurred speech and all, forgetting why you were upset a solid minute ago. 

“Wasn’t gone for that long, was I?” 

He’s teasing as always. Honeyed, brown irises taking in your sweet features as a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. You murmur something unintelligible and equally bratty in response, clinging to him even tighter. You could fall asleep again if you really wanted to… if it wasn’t for that pesky feeling that settles in your tummy. The tingling that makes it’s way between your thighs and causes them to flex around Simon’s waist. You mewl softly— sleepily— as Simon rolls over with you in tow. You’re laying on his chest before you know it, face buried in his neck and taking in a deep breath whilst you nose at the skin there in true feline nature. Bumping your forehead into his jawbone in the process. 

Simon is rather predictable. The way he drags his hands down your sides is expected; squeezing your waist, rubbing your hips, and then grabbing the swell of your rump. With a minuscule amount of his strength, he spreads your cheeks. Those calloused fingers slip between the seam in seconds to rub your kittycunt through your panties, eager to ruin the soft cotton. Your reward for being so good and patient while he was gone. Even if you weren’t conscious. 

“Daddy.” It’s breathy and pathetic. 

“Hm?” Simon hums, as if he isn’t doing anything nefarious. 

You haven’t lived with him for long. You moved from shelter to shelter, stayed with people that certainly weren’t cut out to take care of a hybrid in between. Which ultimately lead to Simon finding you in a safe house, tucked away by some sketchy crime boss who liked to throw away his toys once he got bored of them. 

You’re not sure what ever happened to him, but you’ve got a few scars to show for that time in your life— Simon doesn’t want to falter your healing process and taint your innocence any further by telling you he painted the wall with the poor bastard's brains once the task force finally caught up to his organization. Not like you would understand, anyway. Too far gone and caught up in being a pampered, little kitten now. With bows on your ears and one to match on your tail, a pretty collar with a bell to wear when you feel up to it. You have everything you’ve ever wanted and more. 

Spoiled rotten. Simon thinks to himself, watching your lashes fan over the tops of your supple cheeks. The tips of his fingers, index and middle, find your clit through your underwear, pressing hard enough and moving in little circles to draw a syrupy mewl from you. He feels that little patch of mess growing and growing until the material is stuck to your cunt, transparent and sticky when he bunches it up and tugs upwards, forcing the cotton to strain against your folds and make you whimper. You’re left writhing on his chest in seconds. Moaning and panting “daddy,” like you’ll die if he doesn’t give in and yank the lacy trim to the side. 

Which he does. Doesn’t hesitate to stuff you full either, after all that teasing. Slips his thick middle finger right in and feels your thighs lock up on him, feels your velvet lined walls suck him right in. He’s got you trained to take all of him at this point. You pick your head up, tail swishing behind you wildly. 

“Feelin’ good, kitty?” 

“So good, daddy,” you whisper back, just over his lips before you two join for a sloppy kiss. Tongues rubbing together in a near disgusting dance. You taste the nicotine on him; you feel his stubble rub against your face. A combination that makes it impossible for your pussy not to squeeze around the digit that’s pressing up on the gooey spot inside of you— you’re trying to force him out before he can get another one in, but Simon’s certainly not a beginner. He knows how to coax your pretty cunt into letting him in. 

Your mouth falls open, singing and choking out sounds, and he grins against your scalding cheek. Pressing kisses there when he finds the time. His freehand grips your tail, and that might be the nail in the coffin for you. His fingers fill you up to his knuckles, pressing and flexing until you both can hear how messy you are between your thighs, spreading the glossy arousal all over the plump cheeks of your ass. He tugs at the squirming mess of fluff in his fist—your tail— and your cunt squeezes itself around his fingers so tight he can’t move them anymore. Record timing. 

Simon kisses you, again and again. Slow and sensual to fast and rough. Anything you need to ride out the aftershocks of your release, with your poor cunt still flexing and refusing to let go of his digits until he reluctantly has to pull them out. Bringing the messy hand up to his mouth. You watch him lick his fingers clean. His fat tongue peaks out, slipping ‘n sliding through his digits while you stare at him with dazed, half lidded eyes. Before it’s your turn and he decides to share your sweetness. He presses down on your tongue, forcing your mouth to open as wide as it can. Drool slips past your lips and tongue, and he has the revelation that he’s turned you into a proper sex kitten. His fingers fall out of your mouth with a soft and wet pop. 

“Relax, kitty.” He grumbles once you begin making hasty movements. It’s more of a demand than anything else. His attempts to coax you are lazy but earnest, petting the back of your head with one hand while the other caresses your lower back. Right above your now drooping tail. 

“Wan’ more,” you huff out, planting your hands flat on Simon’s chest as you gather enough strength to sit up. Your poor cunt is still sore from his rough digits, creamy and messy with your release. Painfully empty. You need him. 

It’s apparent in every little move you make. Each rut of your hips over his hard cock. You whine, looking down and seeing the mess you’re making on your daddy’s joggers. Simon’s no better. Deep groans rumbling in his giant chest. The gray material grows darker and albeit stickier with your arousal. Simon doesn’t have the heart to deny you— not when you’re gagging for it like this. 

He can see your pretty, starry eyes welling with hot tears, making your lashes heavy. Your cheeks are puffy with sleep but plump with pleasure, lips pouty and slick with a mix of your saliva and his. Before he knows it, while he’s under whatever trance you managed to cast over him, he’s helping you get his fat cock out of his sweats. His hands dwarf your own, scarred lips shushing your small sounds in the process with a curse or two. 

“Greedy fuckin’ thing.” 

It’s his fault for spoiling you so much, but that’s a conversation for later. 

His dick immediately smacks against his lower abdomen. Thick and heavy. Beads of his precum create such a mess on his hoodie and you nearly giggle at the sight. The feeling of him grabbing your hips stops you, though. He drags you over his cock, and you have no choice but to squeal when his shaft rubs right up on your sensitive clit, before the fat head of his cock catches your drooly entrance. You suck a breath in through your teeth. The last thing you do before Simon plants his feet on the bed and stuffs you full of every inch in one go, growling loud ‘n proud and gripping your skin hard enough to make you sniffle. 

Somehow, in the middle of everything, the hem of the shirt you’re wearing becomes tucked between your teeth. And his becomes balled up in your fists. Simon can’t recall ever seeing you like this. All riled up with your ears flat on your head and small, feisty growls escaping you. The wind is knocked out of him each time you bounce, pulling yourself upwards and then falling right back down on his fat cock. 

He doesn’t have it in him to stop you, once again. When you’re milking him like this it’s hard for him to focus on anything besides how much he loves you and your precious cunt. His hand wavers over your tummy, rubbing your smooth skin as he tries to string words together through ragged breaths. Your cunt is unrelenting. Pulsing and squeezing and all around ruining him. Fuckin’ hell— you’re testing his stamina riding him like this.

“Trying to fuck the cum out of me like this, kitten,” he’s throwing his head back, desperately trying to meet your hips to the best of his fucked out abilities, “is tha’ what you want?” 

Your response is hummed, meeting his eyes with a glossed over look. Your own drool is soaking the fabric through. Maybe you really are just a dumb kitty, Simon thinks— “Words, pet.” He reminds you with the last bit of composure he has himself, “want daddy to give you some kitties, is that it?” 

“Yes!” You squeak out, “Please, daddy! Breed me.” 

Simon blacks out after that. It’s a mess of desperate thrusts and you falling forward, flopping onto his chest yet again due to how hard your orgasm rocks into you. He’s gripping your thighs— holding you nice and open, allowing him to fuck up into you and knock your cute squeals right out of your throat. You’re creaming everywhere, covering his cock in a milky white that makes him groan when he feels how much messier your cunt has gotten. The sloppy sounds echo through the room until he stills. Sinking his cock into you as far as it can go, fat head surpassing that spot that draws out your messiest releases and pressing up against your cervix. 

His cum is hot and thick. Both of you shudder, feeling it fill you up to the brim and leak out of your poor, fluttering kittycunt while Simon holds onto you for dear life. He huffs and puffs against one of your ears, unbothered by the way the fluff tickles his nose. There’s a soft noise coming from you. Airy sighs and— no, it can’t be— little snores. Your face is smushed up on Simon’s shoulder. Surely drooling all over his hoodie. You ear twitches under his nose. The way they always do when you’re knocked out. 

“Un-fuckin’-believable.” 

[mirykka]

coffee ☕️

[sracha]

lol

[clericofshadows]

CLERIC'S MODEL SWAPS + (IN?)CORRECT QUOTES REGIS SHEPARD/ZAEED MASSANI WHAT IF: Zaeed had a romance scene...? PART 1

[brenna]

no, brenna. we are not on tumblr rn. we are writing. stop. go back to the google doc right this minute

[queenharumiura]

My KHR friends, let's play a game

I was talking to Mage and the thought came to me and I think it would be fun. I considered making it a rebloggable meme but nah it's fine---

ESSENTIALLY!!! Send me a KHR ship pairing and i'll tell you:

Hate it | Am Neutral to it | Ship it | love it! | If I do ship it, I will also detail in some ways that I think it would work and/or some ideas that I think would be cute for the pairing. No, it does not have to be a ship involving Haru.

The point of the meme? I just like to think a lot of things, and this is an excuse to just scream into the void. JUST LET ME LECTURE SPEAK AT YOU ALL

[plushyluke]

me to @ michaelclifford bc i didn’t take his advice about spoilers 😭😭

[kaaaaaaarf]

Lists of playlists, homoerotic hockey, and fanny pack time (unwillingly yours).

I mean...none of this is incorrect.

name three things that you associate with me

[bigfishthemusical]

this may sound mean but idc I mean it kindly as I can: two of my dearest friends in the entire world when I met them were like the best at sewing I ever knew and I admired them deeply for it. And recently as we are mad scrambling to do all our final projects I noticed that now when there’s an issue and the prof isn’t there They come to Me with their sewing questions. And well basically I think maybe I’ve made it in life a bit <3 because I love knowing things and I love telling people things and showing them how to do stuff and basically I should not compare myself to people but also it does kind of feel really good to be the best at something and to have met and exceeded a skill level I previously aspired to. Okay.

[adhdvane]

Okay but the new gbf event, literally going to cry. I stayed up to read it last night (er this morning at 3 am), bc I was excited about it being a sequel to Together In Song. I loved Together in Song, that event fucking crushed my hear (also shipping Elta with Caro). This new event was SO GOOD. I LOVE CANTATE. WHAT THE FCUK WHAT A BABY. HER PASSION AND ANGER AND FRUSTRATION AND STRUGGLE AND LOVE. What a wonderful character. I really wanted to start crying when she was so happily and excitedly info dumping about violins and Selfira was genuinely interested and enjoying listening. I need to ship this so bad. Like, I usually don’t go to hard for ships that seem mostly wholesome, but god. You can’t tell me not to hc Cantate as autistic, like there is no way I won’t. I want Selfira to meet Cantate again and for them to make music together and fall in love and ;ojlhkgjhfdghjhjgfdsfgh

more under the cut because i take issue with some of the ending of the event and started ranting about it lol

The only issue I had with the story was the ending with the “see the price is important so your instruments will be bought by professionals who can play well and bring joy to listeners.” Like whoa, I’m sorry lol, hold the fuck up. Please tell me why conflating wealth with skill (and talent as much as I hate the word talent, bc it’s often used to overlook the hard work people have put in to honing their skill lol) is a good and accurate idea. Like people who are poorer are incapable of being extremely skilled in music, what the fck gbf? Like I get the issue of don’t price your skill so slow because you put so much work into your ability. Your skill’s have value and unfortunately in a capitalistic society money is required to survive. It is her profession. In a perfect world it could just be a hobby and I think there should be zero issue letting her give instruments away for as cheap as possible. Let her do what she wants. And it was important for her to learn that letting someone thank you with materials things is not a bad thing, and it can be insulting or hurtful to refuse their gift (and explaining that there’s a cultural barrier here too that’s causing the conflict, which was great). I feel for Caro about not being sure if pushing her in the direction to leave the island and sell her instruments will make her happy. It did selfish to think of it like but all that waisted talent. Like cool, but maybe just let her do want she wants? I guess the idea was supposed to be like, well she wants to give more people a voice and doing that and helping her reach her goal means spreading her work beyond the island. I guess there was some level of, she also really needs to price higher for the sake of not being taken advantage of??? But the story insisted she was really good judge of character??? So like I guess in the end I think the only reasonable reason that I think should of been why she should price her instruments higher is that leaving the island means leaving her apprenticeship, means needing money to support herself, and the prices she was trying to charge before did not accurately reflect the hours of labor she was putting into each instrument. Like the island mentions that price of material sometimes affects the cost but did not say anything about the time that is put into making an item. I think the first part of the argument that she should value her ability more was a better argument than, you need to make your instruments more expensive so random people who cannot play them to their full potential don’t buy them all. Because professionals only care about the monetary value of an instrument. And also only professionals should play her instruments that’s literally not what she wanted. Idk that last bit came off really elitist/classist. Like let her make beautiful instruments for anybody who wants them, like fucking boo-hoo people who aren’t professional are playing them which means its a waist of such a good quality instrument, like fuck off with that. Low supply and high demand meaning only wealthy people get nice things is fucking messed up, lets not pretend it’s a good thing. Especially when the person suppling wants to let anyone be able to play. It’s fine to put value on the experiencing of listening to music but trying to gatekeep people out of playing via price is still shitty, you know. I’d rather we didn’t frame that as a “good” thing. So yeah, I agree that she should consider pricing higher because she needs desperately needs to value her own work more (and just value a lot of herself more, sob). But I don’t agree we should just pretend it’s totally good thing that society believes that high quality = most expensive and that the people who can afford them are the people that deserve them the most. :\\\\\ It’s a complicated subject and I think gbf fumbled on the end in that respect but I give them props for the, please value your work, bc there are a lot of young artists who underprice themselves because they don’t think about the amount of time they put into a piece and the amount of time they spent honing their craft. (obv the real solution lies in paying people more, a reasonable fucking wage, so people can fucking afford shit. and not letting .01% hoard money and not put it back into the fucking economy because they underpay their workers and [froths at the mouth]. anyways... it’s more complicated then that but I’m not here to have the discussion, it’s just relevant to mention with the topic of this event.)

[chrollohearttags]

FIRE HYDRANT • portgas d. ace

ace loves his little squirter, perhaps a bit too much.

content + themes: firefighter!ace, firefighter!reader, choking, hate fucking, heavy squirting, he’s such a mean dom in this, mentions of oral sex, daddy is used, finger sucking, slapping, pet names are used (my love, babygirl, sweetheart), calls reader slut, missionary/mating press

📝: just a lil something to help me get my steam back. If it’s bad, you never saw it.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰───────✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰────

“Okay, okayyyy…take some outtt..fuck!”

“Don’t be stupid, now move your hand before I do it for you.”

he was relentless and had been for the past couple hours or so..it seemed like he had no intention of doing so anytime soon either. Perhaps this time around..your big ass mouth had bit off far more than you could ever chew. Hence why at the moment..he was fish hooking his fingers in the sides of your jaws. Prompting you to suck on them as a means to shut you up. Feeding you a light tap to the cheek to ensure so as well.

“Rookie..how many times do I have to say it, huh? You don’t run a damn thing. It’s been what..four? Five? Hell, I’ve lost count how many times you’ve come on this dick. It’s like you can’t get enough of me, my love. I already knew that much though.”

the words tearing through you like a serrated dagger, slowly but surely cutting you up. A reminder of your weak resolve. You hated it, you hated it so fucking much that the one man you despised got you wetter than any boyfriend or partner you’d ever encountered. That this bastard knew your body far better than you did sometimes. He could do things that you’d never even imagined..taking you to heights unknown and yet, all you could do was stare at him in disgust as his cock plunged within your center repeatedly. Slamming balls deep as they smacked against your puckering asshole; drenched in your sticky mixture from drumming it out of you. It was just as he said, you had come for him for about the seventh time now. Running on fumes and pure spite to keep going. Maybe you wanted to prove him wrong that you could take whatever he threw your way, including the dick.

“Haaaah!—shit! Not right there..I’m gonna—“

“I know, babygirl. I know you are so why fight it? Squirt on daddy’s dick. Feels much better than arguing with me, doesn’t it?”

or..you loved the way he fucked you and your pride wouldn’t allow you to admit it! It would explain the large puddle formed underneath the towels on his couch and the splashes surrounding his foot; the other planted next to you so that he could truly get in it the way he wanted. And here you were..in the last position you wanted to be! Folded like a goddamn pretzel with your toes wiggling behind your head and this asshole hovering over you with that same stupid grin on his face, those deep set eyes and his necklace dangling in front of your nose. He was enjoying this. Enjoying turning his stubborn little rookie into his personal fire hydrant. The tight, juicy grip of that cunt embracing him like a warm hug..tinting his tan hued shaft with a sheet of white essence before exploding into the sweet, delicious rain as he made you squirt yet again. He’d never had pussy like it and it was for that reason alone, he put up with your bad attitude or rather, calmed it down.

“Nnggghhh!..I can’t..” your words were barely even making it above a decibel. A lot more quiet than the shouting you did at him when you first arrived. Pissed off about your inspection results earlier in the day. Granted, that was before he hissed at you to sit down, shut the fuck up and be a good slut for him..before he snatched your sundress down to reveal those plump tits and sucked on those gorgeous brown nipples that go so erect for him as he fingered you. And well before pinned your legs back and damn near sucked the flavor from your pussy! Using those nimble fingers to get you to climax..it was then that he discovered your little secret:

“Ahhh..so you’re a squirter, rookie? Well that’s good to know.”

and hadn’t stopped exploring it since. So for the duration of your stay, he’d been stretching that pussy out and using you to his heart's desire. Pulling on your hair, smacking on that fat ass as he gave you vicious backshots. Even tossing the pillow out of your way so you had zero comfort. His punishment for waking him up. Using your mouth as his personal cock sleeve, making you eat him up until you made a mess, calling him daddy after rewarding you with a warm nut to the back of your throat and after that, the fun really began. He’d kept you like this..drawing out orgasm after orgasm; streams of clear juices reaching as far up to his chest. Pulling out, tapping that mushroom tip against your slit to coax out another right after. He was having too much fun!

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who can’t even keep her eyes open. Too bad for you..”

suddenly, you’d feel the hard clutch of his digits around your throat which prompted you to gasp for air whilst clawing at his forearm. Zeroing in on your face, he’d hiss through gritted teeth and smile before slamming your head back down: “we’re not done, so wake that ass up. ‘M gonna beat that little pussy of yours so sore, you’ll be lucky if you can crawl out of here when I’m done. Gonna fuck you until you’re empty, baby..”

and something told you, that wouldn’t be anytime soon!

[attleboy]

it's that time of year... love is in the air!!! and that means YURI BE UPON THEE!!!!!!

yeah okayyyy i just wanted to draw some girls kissing and this is a good excuse... :P well i hope you all enjoy!!

[budgieflitter]

WELCOME TO STRANGEVIEW

oh hey its budgieflitter and her swap aus obsession again descriptions are under the cut v

CALIENTE + LOTHARIO = BEAKER When Don got a date with the Caliente sisters, he thought he won a jackpot. What he did not expect, though, was to wake up next morning on an operation table in their basement. Will this test subject last or the sisters will have to look for a replacement soon?

GOTH = SPECTER Turns out not only relatives are buried in local oligarch's graveyard. Ever since Mortimer's wife Bella mysteriously disappeared, he became more reclusive than he already was. She was not the only victim - all of his daughter Cassandra's fiancés seemed to disappear one by one. Will Alexander get used to living with ghosts? Can Cassandra ever find love again?

BROKE + DREAMER = GRUNT Brandi and Darren found comfort in each other after a terrible tragedy struck their families, however it seems this comfort is about to crumble. Darren is determined to reach the stars someday, and Brandi would rather stay close to the ground. Will Dustin and Dirk ever get along? Will little Beau follow his stepfather's footsteps?

PLEASANT = SMITH

Daniel has been fascinated with space ever since his father's Mars expedition hit the news. Good thing he found a woman whose eyes reflect the beauty of the universe itself. Will Mary-Sue get her long-awaited promotion, and can Angela and Lilith make the right choices when it comes to love?

BURB = CURIOUS Jennifer is interested in the vastness of universe, but for a different reason her brother is. Where is she from? What really happened on her father's Mars expedition? Was it anything like the experience her husband went through during his abduction? Maybe the answer is much closer than she thinks.

OLDIE

Oldies have been a long-time residents of Strangeview. Unable to fulfill her role as a Birth Queen, Coral escaped with her beloved with a tiny alien aboard. Will Herb realize that the result of his last mission as a Pollination Technician is somewhere nearby? okayyyy i had so much fun making this. the idea hit me literally yesteday and i was on the rideee hope u enjoy ^_^

[p1utofairy]

PAC: “cause every little thing that we do, should be between me & you.” 🕯️💭✨

• what are your person’s dirty thoughts about you?

disclaimer ✩: 18+ mature themes. thank y'all for 1K omg <3 y’all really fw with lil ol’ me?! ily ily ily. 🥹 here’s a lil sumn sumn to celebrate. 🥂 p.s. take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. enjoy!

pile 1 ⭐️ —

“you don't need me, please believe me. this ain't easy, you know i've been feindin'. let me unleash my demons on you.”

“innocent” is what i’m hearing pile 1. your person will underestimate just how much of a hold you have on them lol initially they’ll think that you’re more of the submissive type, but oh are they in for a treat! you hold your cards close to your chest, so it’ll surprise them when this other side of you comes to the surface. i’m hearing “classy in the streets but a freak in the sheets” LOLLL. oh i’m also picking up that some of you may be inexperienced (or may not have as much sexual experience as them) but it won’t come off that way to them...they’ll just think that you’re playing coy and teasing them. your person will be eye-fucking you a lot, i can see them sitting across from you just looking you up and down…locking in on your legs — they’ll really love your legs. “you’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you. you’d be like heaven to touch.” just started playing in my mind. awww your person is very sensual 😩 and as much as they want to have you…they’ll be patient. they want to make sure you feel comfortable. all i need by lloyd just came to mind, “get up on it. i’m so horny and i want it. so get up on this, get up on the dick.” LMFAOOOO ik i said they'll be patient but i’m ngl they'll be internally tussling with themselves because they’re used to just getting what they want and people falling for them at the drop of a dime, but you make them work hard for it. i can see you two having a heavy make-out session before they drop you off home and then you pull away and you're like BYE 😘👋☺️ and they'll just be sitting there with their mind racing a mile per minute like FUCK?????? lmfaooooooooooo my gosh you will rile them up so bad pile 1. i feel like there will be a height difference between you two or an age gap. they could be older than you! you give them butterflies <3 they think they’re making you soo nervous/giddy inside (and they are) but you hide it a little better than they do. after every interaction with them you’ll feel all mushy inside hehe and you’ll be able to tell that you make them nervous. they’re just blown away by how beautiful, hot and how well-put together you are. i can see you talking and they’re just watching your mouth move like 👁️👁️ LMFAOOO bye pile 1. they’re feenin’ for you.

pile 2 🪡 —

“i just wanna live in a fantasy. i think we deserve it, right? top all the memories. i’ve ever made in my life.”

oouu this is my pile that doesn't take shit from nobody, okayyyy! hi pile 2 welcome to your reading <3 i can already tell that your person loves how you carry yourself. you do not allow many people to have access to you, and when you do, people can’t help but feel special inside because you have such a ✨big✨ presence. you may not take your person very serious at first. they have youthful/playful energy while you have a very disciplined and mature demeanor. that’s what will make them so attracted to you; how you're always on your shit…there's no cutting corners with you, you do not have time for the games and they will respect that. there's something about your lips that they love. you might have a defined cupid’s bow like rihanna or maybe they just like how cute and soft they are; especially after they just got done kissing you. i see them teasing you and slightly biting your bottom lip after they pull away from the kiss 🥵 ugh don’t count them out pile 2. they might have youthful energy but they're a pro when it comes to seduction lol you both are similar in a sense — you both want something serious and passionate with a hint of playfulness. they'll loveeeee watching you get ready! like i can see you standing in front of a mirror, in a rush to make yourself look presentable and they're just laying back on the bed…giving you the look. just ready to POUNCE. whew pile 2! this person’s love language might also be physical touch, cause they’ll be fighting the urge to squeeze your ass or constantly have their hand on your lower back. you’ll secretly love all their physical affection though hehe.

pile 3 🔪 —

“out of breath, take it slow. i wanna feel it in my soul. yeah, i know you love it when i’m on top. gotta keep it going, baby. don’t stop.”

heyyyy pile 3 🤗 i’m immediately hearing that you have a way with words. you know exactly what buttons to push to get your person aroused mhm! your person knows your worth just as much as you do, they’ll put you on a pedestal and treat you with so much care and devotion. they may have a worship kink? i see a bedroom setting — lightly-dimmed, candles lit, red rose petals on the floor and they’re slowly taking your shoes off for you…their hands trailing up your bare legs slowly 🥵 OKAYYYY pile 3! the sexual attraction is strong in this one wow. that scene from the wolf of wall street where naomi (margot robbie) and jordan (leo dicaprio) are on a date and naomi is giving him the fuck me eyes while saying “aren’t you married?” is coming to mind. now i don’t feel like there’s any third parties/cheating involved…you two just might be into role-playing. like i can see them booking a spontaneous getaway trip for the two of you & y’all just slut each other out and explore each other’s wildest fantasies the whole time 🤭 you both know how and what will make the other person tick; i can see them teasing you a lot in public. a lot of dirty talk in your ear, hand on the back of your neck gently squeezing and kisses. they were never really like this in their previous relationship(s) but you bring out a whole different side of them. agora hills by doja cat just started playing, “kissing and hope they caught us, whether they like or not. i wanna show you off. i wanna show you off.” THEY REALLY DO, PILE 3. they can't believe they bagged you…every-time they look at you they’re in awe.

[obsidianbaby]

I DONT SHARE

this is pt 2 of " FUCKING BROWNIES"

read pt 1 here :

synopsis - you've been best friends with the triplets for a few years and you're currently visiting them in LA. After your hot sneaky hook up with chris, matt cannot keep his attention off of you.

warnings/notes - angst, matt! x reader, fingering, spit kink, voyeurism, choking, slight praise kink, themes of possession

a/n - this is the sequel of my first ever sturniolo smut so i hope y'all like where the plot is goingggggg (she thick) okok enjoy mwah

_____________________________________________

It's after 11pm and the brownies finished baking an hour ago, the boys and I are currently enjoying them on the couch while watching a movie.

I sit squished between chris and nick, leaning on nick's shoulder with his arm around me and my legs extended across chris's lap, his hands mindlessly rubbing my legs. Matt sits uninterested and incredibly quiet on the furthest part of the couch from us, face buried in his phone.

"Matt you good?" Chris asks looking over at Matt from his spot on the couch beside me. Matt ignores him and continues to stare blankly at his phone.

"Mattttttt are you going to try our brownies or what??" I ask staring at him wondering what's crawled up his ass in the past hour.

At the sound of my voice he looks up from his phone at me for a mere second before returning his attention to his phone.

"If you don't have some now these fuckers are going to end up finishing the pan" Nick says looking towards Matt. Matt heavy sighs and puts his phone down before turning to us.

"Nah im good, not hungry." he says cooly.

"what? bro I thought you wanted some brownies..?" Chris asks smirking in confusion looking from Matt to me, I shrug my shoulders at him.

"yeah not anymore, lost my appetite for brownies. I think i'll just go clean up the kitchen." He replies, standing up and heading for the kitchen.

"sounds good to me" Nick adds jokingly.

"wait let me help you" I say, sitting up getting ready to stand up. Chris tightens his grip on my legs and looks at me intensely. I bite my lip at the feeling of his grip on my legs and I raise my eyebrow at him. He just shakes his head and pouts at me, not wanting me to leave my place from the couch. I just roll my eyes at him and continue to get off the couch following Matt into the kitchen.

"what can I do to help?" I ask matt politely while standing beside him at the counter.

without looking over at me he scoffs, "you're grown do you really need me to assign you a task?"

baffled but not wanting to poke the bear I step away from him and start to gather the utensils and mixing bowls to wash in the sink.

I start to mindlessly hum while washing the dishes in the sink and matt walks up closely behind me softly saying, "I was going to wash the dishes" i feel his hot breath on my neck.

"don't worry i've got it how about you just go watch the movie matt, i know you're not feeling well" I say keeping my body turned towards the sink.

"excuse me? What makes you think i'm not feeling good?" he asks with an tone.

"probably because of your sudden attitude?" I say bluntly as i continue to focus on washing the dishes. He lets out an unamused chuckle before wrapping his arms around my waist, hugging me from behind.

"I'm fine, really" he says, nuzzling his head into my neck.

"are you sure? you can tell me what's bugging you ya know?" i say lowly so only he can hear. He shifts behind me and sighs, his arms lazily hugging me still.

"i know but i'm fine" he whispers against my neck, shivers erupt down my spine.

"okayyyy whatever you say matthew" I say as i finish putting the clean dishes on the drying rack. I turn around in his arms and let him hug me tightly, putting my face in his chest.

"hey are you coming back to watch the movie?" chris calls suddenly from the couch and i swing my head towards him, his jaw clenching.

"uh yeah I just want to wipe down the table and counters first." Chris gives me a thumbs up and goes back to watching the movie. "Matt are you gonna join us after i finish cleaning?" I ask breaking apart the hug to look up at him. He smiles at me and nods.

"only if i can have my turn with you as my blanket." He says smiling cheekily. I laugh and shake my head at him.

"of course matt I know how to share" I say with a wink before turning away from his hold to wipe down the counters and table. Matt just leans against the sink and watches me contently. "hey i thought you came in here to clean?" I say teasingly to matt, my back to him as i bend over the table to reach the other side with the cloth. I can feel matts stare on me and I turn around the face him, his eyes already locked on mine and he blushes.

"yeah but you gave me the day off so" he says crossing his arms across his chest smiling at me.

"whatever. I'm done now anyways lets go" I say, tugging his arms and he gives up his hold and allows me to tug him to the couch with me.

He takes a seat beside chris leaving an obvious spot in the middle of him and chris for me to take. I sit in between them deciding to keep to myself.

Chris immediately leans his head on my shoulder and i can feel matt staring at us. I look over to matt and he smiles before grabbing my legs and pulling me closer to him so my legs lay horizontally across his lap, my ass half on his lap. Chris shifts his position and pulls my shoulders gently so that my head rests on his lap and he begins to run his fingers through my hair.

"well you three look incredibly comfortable, I'm gonna head up to bed now" Nick says standing up before turning to me, "and thanks for cleaning up the kitchen" he smiles, continuing to the stairs up to his room.

"hey i helped" matt adds jokingly.

"wrong" I say looking at matt.

"you did not" nick adds before disappearing up the stairs.

"not my fault you didnt let me" matt says raising his hands up and i roll my eyes.

While chris continues to run his fingers through my hair, matt places his hands firmly on my thighs, his fingers resting in between. Matt starts to softly trace his fingers along the inside of my thighs and my core begins to tighten.

I look at Matt with a questioning look and he just winks cheekily at me continuing to rub my inner thighs, causing my panties to grow wetter by the second. My breathing starts to pick up and its as if chris can hear my raising heartbeat, he looks down at me from where my head rests on his lap.

"you good?" he asks quietly, gently caressing my cheek with his hand to tilt my face towards him. I nod not being able to get any words out worried that a moan might escape my lips instead. He smirks at me and turns his attention back to the tv.

When i notice chris's attention is no longer on me apart from his hands buried in my hair, i look back at matt, his gaze still on me, making my cheeks flush.

I look down at his hands that keep inching further and further up my inner thighs towards my heat thats now pulsing so hard he can probably feel it.

"hey chris, pass me that blanket will ya?" matt nods to the blanket beside chris. Chris reaches beside him and hands the blanket over my head to matt. Matt lays the blanket over our laps now shielding his hands that are currently tracing lines around my bikini line.

I bite my lip holding matt's intense gaze and he smirks at me before he finally breaks the stare and turns to watch the movie. He then leans over to the coffee table, grabbing the remote and turns the tv up to a ridiculous volume.

Chris looks over at matt, "dude are you deaf?"

"i just turned it up a little relax" matt says while he watches the movie intently and i watch him. He then looks over at me sensing my stare, "be a good girl and watch the movie" he says quietly, before turning back to the tv. I gulp hard and do what he says, licking my lips with anticipation.

Matt's hands suddenly graze under my shorts and start playing with the hem of my panties causing my to involuntarily buck my hips. Chris snaps his attention to me and then to matt and then back to me with a questioning look.

"sorry im fine" I say instantly looking over at Matt who has a cocky smile on his face as he continues to watch the tv.

"hey i just gotta move you for a sec," chris suddenly says, gently moving my jaw to look up at him, "i'll be right back okay?"

"mhm" i respond as chris smoothly scooches his lap from under my head and walks away down the hall towards the bathroom.

Matt whips his head towards where chris just walked off to and then down at me and he smiles, "how long do you think he'll be?" his eyes looking black with hunger.

"why? you tryna get handsy with me while chris is in the bathroom down the hall?" i say jokingly trying to act like what matt is doing to me isn't driving me fucking insane.

"hmm i dunno..." he says as he lets his fingers slip under my panties and he quickly runs his fingers through my slick once.

"matt!" i gasp, "what the fuck are you doing...?" i say trying hard to hide the smirk growing on my face.

"what? you said you know how to share, dont you? and I want to take my turn now." he says daringly as he intently holds my stare while he slips his fingers through my slick once more. "do you not want to share with me anymore?" he asks, bringing his thumb to my sensitive bud and pressing down firmly on it, my hips bucking up against his touch.

"fuck matt please" i say my head rolling back and my legs relaxing into his touch.

"i'll take that as a yes" he says as he moves his fingers through my slick a few times before he plunges two into my heat as deep as he can. my hips jolt and i moan his name.

"atta girl" he says as he continues to pump his fingers hard against my spongy walls, curling them up perfectly to hit my sweet spot with every thrust.

the knot in my stomach building as he works his finger inside of me and he brings his other hand to grab my throat grabbing firmly. I gasp at his movement and look up at his blown out pupils.

"matt" i whine through suppressed breaths and he smiles devilishly at me, his thumb pressing firm tight circles on my clit.

"i know you may enjoy sharing, but i don't" he says biting his lip as he watches my face scrunch with pleasure. I look at him with a raised brow.

"wha what do you mean?' i mumble

"i mean you're mine and i dont share." he says nodding towards the bathroom where chris walked off to minutes ago. I begin to open my lips again but my word are taken from me as he adds a third finger inside me, slamming them against my sweet spot and i moan out his name.

"open your mouth" he says, his hand still firmly gripping my neck and i part my lips staring up at him. He spits in my mouth, "swallow" he says cooly and i do. "good girl".

"matt m'gonna cum" i mumble, my head getting dizzy from his grip around my neck and the knot in my stomach hanging on the edge.

"uh uh uh not until you agree with me" his hungry eyes looking intensely into mine, his three digits slowing their pace inside of me causing me to clench my thighs around his hand.

"agree with what matt?" i say through labored breaths.

"that you're mine" he says, leaning his face towards mine as he moves his hand from around my neck to my jaw and grips it firmly, lifting my face to meet his. I bite my lip at his words, knowing what he is implying at.

"matt please" i beg, pain starting to take over from my high not being reached.

"say it"

"im yours matt only yours"

and with my words he plunges his fingers knuckle deep into my heat as he aggressively pushes his lips onto mine. The kiss is hungry and needy and he forces my lips apart with his tongue to explore.

my walls clench around his fingers and i moan into his mouth, and he continues to twirl his tongue around mine, fingers deep inside of me as i ride out my high.

once the waves of my arousal stop pouring out around his fingers he removes them and sticks them into his mouth, watching me intently as he sucks and licks my juices from them.

"you taste better than i thought you would." he says casually and i laugh at his words trying to process my second orgasm of the night.

"what the fuck matt" i say slumping into the couch, bringing my hands up to my neck where i can still feel the pressure of where his grip was.

chris comes strolling into the kitchen from the hallway and matt grins at me, his fingers still in his mouth.

"hey matt did you finally get a taste?" he asks as he makes his way to the couch sitting next to where my head rests.

we both look over to him in shock at his words.

"the brownies..?" he asks curiously, pointing to the tray still sitting on the coffee table.

"oh yeah i got a taste." matt responds, removing his fingers from his mouth.

"and..? what do ya think?" chris asks.

"fucking perfect." matt states, smiling at me.

_____________________________________________

CHRIS POV

The way matt's not even hiding it, rubbing her thighs right beside me for me to see.. I can feel her breathing heavily in my lap, watching her licking her lips and staring at him.

As soon as matt asked for the blanket i knew he was going to try something and fuck me i couldn't stay to watch it, I had to leave the room, seeing her body react like that from matt's touch and not mine?

Once I got to the bathroom i splashed some cold water on my face and sat down on the floor.

Minutes pass and I could hear her fucking gasping and moaning his name. Which I hate to admit got me hard. so hard that it ached, not having jerked off my previous boner from earlier tonight with her in the kitchen.

I sit, leaned against the door and close my eyes, listening to her moans and imagining im the one thats pulling them from her instead as i slip my hand around my hard cock and pump until i finish with her.

___________________________________________

a/n - i had the roughest plan for this when i first started cooking so the ending is just as surprising to us both. Hope yall enjoyed ittttttttttt. part 3 anyone? <3

dts - @adg-h16 @stasiesturn @thatssocancelled @aurizp @maryx2xx @sturnthepot @nickgetsmewetter @schlutt4matty @fratbrochrisgf @lovingregulusblack @annasturn0lo @thepubeburgler @6ix9inewiturmom @ribread03 @gabrielle-brun1 @trevor-777 @mattslolita @mattsgf68903 @aliceloveschris @starsturns234