In Some Universe, Spiderman Steve Harrington Is Real And He's Hanging Out In The Spider Lobby Badly Flirting

In some universe, Spiderman Steve Harrington is real and he's hanging out in the spider lobby badly flirting with fellow spiderman Eddie Munson.

This ughhhhhhh

UNDER THE COVERS

[3.5K] sleeping over at steve’s place is something you've always adored, but waking up with him is suddenly even better. (18+)

Sleeping over at Steve’s place after the two of you stayed out a little too late has become a part of your weekly routine, but having his head between your thighs in the early cracks of dawn isn’t.

You hadn’t planned to end up like this. You thought after coming home around 3 am last night — well, this morning — and crashing the second your body hit Steve’s sheets that you’d be sleeping in until noon. You were perfectly content in wasting away your Saturday to remain in a lazy bliss at Steve’s place while he went to work, taking in the familiar surroundings like it was your own home with hints of Steve scattered around.

The faint smell of chlorine from his pool lingering on his carpeted floor, his shoes he leaves around the house beneath the tables and shoe racks, listening to the records the two of you bought together and smiling at the memories the songs flood your mind with.

You knew he would let you linger in his absence, too, which is mostly why you decided to sleep in for as long as you could regardless of the countless errands you have to run on Sunday when stores close early and your parents expect you to see them.

But yet, here you are in the early hours of the day when the rest of town has yet to break out of their slumber and the sky is still a burning bronze, daring to peek past the clouds that often cast over the sleepy town of Hawkins, awake and moaning softly at the calculated touch of your boyfriend.

Whether it was the sun leaking through Steve’s curtains because he forgot to draw them in when the two of you got home, or the fact that your boyfriend was moving restlessly beside you and you could feel him pulling you closer, you’d woken up and against your better judgment, you turned in Steve's arms to face him.

He murmured your name into the shell of your ear to coax you awake just like he was, whispering things far too sensual for a pair who’d barely broken out of their REM cycles. Normally, you’d have gotten annoyed at your stubborn boyfriend for waking you up far too early for your liking because you enjoy sleeping, after all.

But now? Now, you can hardly form a coherent sentence because his tongue is lapping you in your most vulnerable of places and you have no intention to complain because it feels so good.

You’re a little drowsy and a little out of it but your body feels like it’s on fire from being under Steve’s touch. He had kissed down your neck, past your collarbones, getting momentarily distracted by your boobs like he always did when he pushed your shirt up to gawk at your chest. You groaned out his name, voice still thick with sleep and he continued to kiss a trail down your stomach, hands slowly tugging away your — his — sweatpants and your underwear in tow. 

It could’ve been seconds, minutes, hell, even hours since your boyfriend disappeared beneath his navy bed sheets and started his delicate assault against your core. Of course, you missed feeling his body pressed into the side of yours and seeing his pretty face, but Jesus Christ, you’ve been in heaven ever since.

Normally Steve would push the sheets down with him, putting himself on full display for you to watch the way the muscles in his back contort as his tongue and hands work against you, in you, but he seemed just as out of it as you were and didn’t care that this wasn’t as hot and heavy as it could be.

A breathy moan escapes past your lips as one of his hands spreads across your abdomen and presses down, holding you in place against his mattress while his other hand pushes at the thigh of the leg you can’t even remember propping up, moving it outward to give him more room to be comfortable enough to do what he’s best at.

Eyes fluttering shut, you crane your neck back when Steve’s nose nudges against your clit as his tongue works downward and your head falls further into his pillow at the sensation. The feeling of his hair rubbing against the junction between your thigh and your groin makes you cant your hips upward just a little, just enough for him to groan against you as if you've just given him an award.

You’re not even sure if he’s trying to make you reach that peak he prides himself in getting you to or if he’s just doing it until you’re asking him to stop or to go even further. Steve’s movements are a little different than what you’ve become used to, what you’ve come to expect when he goes down on you, his tongue lacking the impatient and almost animalistic persistence it normally has when dancing with your clit but you can’t say that you hate it.

It’s a nice change, albeit one you weren’t necessarily expecting — but then again, you weren’t expecting this to be happening at all — but you need more if you want to come crashing down with the euphoric wave that’s been building within you.

He’s unintentionally teasing you, slowly unravelling the knot that’s been growing bigger and tighter in your stomach with the way his tongue moves against you. It’s slow, maybe even a little hesitant like he’s expecting you to snap to your senses and kick him away and go back to sleep — you wouldn’t, you won’t — and although it’s not enough to get you to come undone, it feels fucking good regardless.

But you’re more awake than you were before and you can’t ignore the way that little voice in the back of your head is fucking begging you to get Steve to make you come already.

You’re normally patient when you and Steve are having sex, letting him take care of you because you know how important it is to him to keep things intimate no matter what you're doing, but the burning desire to melt in his hands like putty is becoming too much to bear and you need it more then you need oxygen right now.

“Steve?” You barely have the energy to murmur his name, but you manage, and his movements falter against you and you swear you can feel his hips push into the mattress. 

One arm propping you upward, the other goes to grip the end of his sheets and you lift it just barely, just enough so that you can see him and Christ, what a sight it is. His eyes are screwed shut and his eyebrows are knitted together, features still soft despite the way he’s lapping you like it’s his job.

If you could capture this moment, regardless of how sexual and lustful it may be, you would, because Steve has always been beautiful and the fact that he’s in his own state of pleasure just from trying to get you to reach yours makes you whimper.

Maybe it’s the sunlight that breaks the once-dark abyss that encompassed Steve, or it’s the feeling of the rustling sheets above him, but your boyfriend finally opens his eyes and looks up at you. His pupils are blown in chocolate brown eyes that you often find yourself getting lost in and your stomach flips at the sight of them, of him gazing up at you like you’re the only person in the world, that you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted.

He peels away from you, blinking lazily, face still close so that you can feel his breath against your most sensitive area, but just enough that you can hear his rough voice. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yes, shit— I just..” You nod your head lightly and the sentence dies on your tongue at the feeling of him kissing the inside of your thigh.

“Just what?” He eggs you on, hand rubbing the meat of your thigh soothingly and you could melt right then and there. “D’you want me to stop?”

“No. God, no,” You breathe out, heat rushing to your cheeks and you can’t seem to bring yourself to care because of how turned on you are at the sight of Steve grinning against your skin, lips glistening from you. “Just.. want more, Steve. Need more.”

If there’s one thing you love about Steve, it’s how attentive he is. How willing he is to give you what you want without you really asking because he knows you like the back of his hand. Sure, sometimes he’s a little mean with it, making you say what you want instead of using his initiative because truth be told, he adores seeing your pupils dilate and hearing you ask to ride him or beg him to flip you over and fuck you senseless.

But maybe he’s taking pity on you because you’d barely been awake for 10 minutes and he’s already got you so worked up like he’s been fucking you for hours. So, Steve doesn’t make you shield yourself with a momentary façade of confidence to say what you want.

“Yeah?” Steve asks and it sounds genuine, almost like he had been waiting for you to finally let him take you to the state of euphoria he knows he can. His hand moves away from your thigh and his fingers just barely brush against your entrance and a pleased sigh forces its way out of your mouth. “This kind of more?”

You nod, breath shuttering as your arm threatens to give in at any second. “Yeah. Yes, please.”

If this is what pity from Steve Harrington feels like, then fuck, you would take it tenfold every damn day if you could.

You barely register the way Steve moves his middle and ring finger into his mouth before it’s back at your entrance and slowly, but surely, inching their way inside of you. Your lips form into an o-shape as you silently cry out at the pleasurable intrusion, dropping the sheet from your hand and instead sneaking it underneath to grip at his brown locks for refuge.

It's a slow push and pull, his fingers starting to slip in and out of you at an unnerving pace once you relax into his touch completely, strings of curses mixed with his name falling from your lips before his mouth is back on you. It’s like no time has passed because you’re right back where you left off, teetering on the edge of unravelling against his face because his long fingers are hitting the spot you never could over and over and over again. 

This. This is what you wanted, what you so desperately craved, and the unholy satisfaction pumping into you bone deep and it tastes sweet on your tongue. No matter how many times you and Steve move together in such an intimate way, you’ll never get enough of how good he is, how he’ll work to find out what you like and what you don’t, worshipping you and your body like a temple he’s been blessed to explore.

“Shit, Steve— oh my God.”

If this were any other time, you’re sure you’d be embarrassed at the thought of you coming so fast when he’s barely done anything. But it’s something about today, something about this morning and how Steve was willing to put his tiredness aside to benefit you and untie that knot of bliss building inside of you.

Steve starts plummeting his fingers into you at a faster pace, although still kind and gentle, and you don’t even notice the missing presence of a steady rhythm in his movements because his lips latch themselves onto your clit. “Just like that, Steve, shit.”

He hums against you, the vibrations moving through your veins like live wires and you grip his hair like a lifeline, knuckles turning white beneath the sheets and he moans into you, fingers curling and hitting that spot again and again and again when your whimpers go up an octave.

You clamp around his fingers every time he retreats them, sighs of relief forming into whiny moans at the feeling of him pushing back into you and you keen for him and his touch. You can taste the ecstasy on your tongue, you can hear the way your heart ricochets against your ribcage, you can feel yourself descending closer to heaven hot and fast and you don’t even care if you wake Steve’s neighbours with your cries.

“I’m gonna— shit.” You’re panting, free hand coming to grab at your breast and the feeling of your nails digging into your skin burns deliciously. “I’m gonna come, Steve.”

Steve groans against you at your admission, something that feels like a mess of begs and pleads for you to let go, and who are you to deprive your boyfriend of such an honour?

You call out his name when his fingers hit that spot deep inside of you again and you arch your back off of the mattress, muscles tightening and legs clamping around his head as the tether finally snaps. Your eyes slam shut and you can see stars beneath your eyelids, twinkling speckles of raw pleasure dancing amongst anything and everything Steve. His hand, his fingers, his mouth and his tongue, your own personal godsend who loves you just as much as you love him.

You’re falling, tumbling, crashing, his fingers continuing at their now-steady pace as he works you through your orgasm. Unbeknownst to yourself, you grind against his face like you own it, like you have no shame in using him for all he’s worth and shit, you know Steve would gladly admit to being okay with that.

His mouth moves away from you as you start coming back down from heaven and enter the realm of overstimulation, and he presses kisses to your thighs and mumbles praises that you can’t quite hear over the buzzing sounds ringing in your ears. It feels like your body is on overdrive, like you’ve been depriving it of its one energy source and you’ve finally given it what it wanted and more.

It feels like your orgasm goes on for days, even when his fingers come to a slow and eventual stop, but once your body finally relaxes, you collapse back into his bed, chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath and compose yourself. A whimper brushes past your tongue as he runs his thumb over your slit and you have to mentally scold yourself for already missing the sensation of him inside of you.

Pulling your legs apart, Steve slowly pushes himself back upward, he presses his lips against the inside of your knee, your hip, your lower stomach— kissing you up and up until he finally peers out from under his blanket and you peel your eyes away from his ceiling to tiredly smile at him.

His lips are still wet with the remnants from your momentary trip to your oasis and his cheeks are tinged pink and his hair is a riot. The flush that found purchase across the apples of his cheeks runs down to his chest, a dusty pink tinge concealing the constellation of freckles and moles that previously shined against his tanned skin.

Steve hovers over you and cages you in between his arms and his body is hot, a warmth that spreads into your own as you pull him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Mornin’.” Steve mumbles, deep and rough with sleep and you aren’t sure if your knees suddenly feel weaker from the sound of his voice or his previous actions.

Your fingers play with the hair on the nape of his neck and you mentally thank him for forgetting to book his haircut appointment last week. “Morning.”

“Was that good?” He asks despite knowing the answer already, despite knowing that he’d just made you touch heaven and it isn’t even 7 in the morning yet. “Five stars? Ten outta ten? Would recommend to a friend?”

There's a smile on your face because as much as you love the sexy, dominant side of Steve only you get to witness between the sheets, you much prefer the boyish, dorkier version of your boyfriend who makes you feel 16 again. “You're an idiot, Steve.” 

“An idiot who just made you come." He corrects and you can barely break out a laugh, but when you do, Steve grins at the sound of it. You nod to answer his question anyway, eyes fighting against the way they want to close from the exhaustion and you’re barely able to use your voice to hum affirmingly.

No words are really capable of describing the way he made you feel because your body is still trying to escape from its post-orgasm haze and the way he’s looking at you, all boyish and charming, makes your heart skip a beat.

Steve finally dips down and you moan against his lips from the taste of yourself on his tongue, a little dirty secret that juxtaposes how he kisses you soft and slow. The kiss is deep, arguably fuelled by a sense of lust that’s been growing within the confines of his bedroom but you feel the butterflies in your chest flutter from his touch.

You miss having him like this, quiet and calm and just the two of you, no absentminded worries tickling the back of your thoughts like when your shift starts or if the two of you are going to have to save Hawkins again.

His left-hand moves lazily and delicately to find its place on your waist and you can feel him underneath his boxers, hard and aching for you and instinctively, your hips push upward to brush against his. It’s an innocent reflex despite the dirty question it poses and you smile at the broken groan he muffles into your kiss.

He’d stay in bed with you like this if you asked him to. Limbs tangled and sheets ruffled, barely there kisses and feeling of your body against his, eventual moans coming from your lips and his groans pressing into the side of your neck because you just can’t help but become engulfed in one another.

Steve would be completely okay with ignoring the responsibilities he has for the day if it meant he could spend more time with you, and you’d be a liar to say you don’t share the same sentiment.

But as much as you hate to admit it, your nirvana can’t become a reality just yet because you have bills to pay and your mouths to feed. That’s what makes early mornings like this with Steve so special in your mind, the fact that they’re seldom and that they’re something just the two of you get to share like a soft-spoken secret, something never that frequent but occurring just enough to make you keep wanting them more and more.

“Times it?” He murmurs against your lips, unable to find the energy — or desire — to pull himself away from the warmth your body provides to check the time himself.

“I don’t know,” You reply honestly, having that you were far too distracted by Steve’s mouth on you to peel your eyes open and check the alarm clock situated on his nightstand. “Still early, I think.”

Despite your words being soft and quiet, mumbling no louder than the faint sounds of the chirping birds who found purchase outside Steve's window and the rustling trees moving with the cool breeze, you can hear the sound of your boyfriend humming contentedly.

Steve faintly chews at the inside of his cheek like he’s lost in thought before one of his hands starts to move back down from your waist and to your hips, calloused fingers itching dangerously close to your inner thigh and you can feel yourself throb in anticipation.

“Hm?” You repeat and you already know what your boyfriend’s thinking, what he’s planning to do without having to ask because his eyes twinkle with something you know all too well.

Steve’s nose bumps against yours and you sigh when his lips meet yours again, tender and gentle like you both have all the time in the world before you need to start getting ready for the day. Fuck, you’re so in love with him that it hurts.

He flashes you a lazy grin when you break apart, one that’s laced with a mix of something devilish and something lovesick, and before you can diminish his eagerness because you’d like to rock his world the same way he did yours, Steve is already slipping back under the covers, trailing kisses on the places he did once before and you find yourself sinking further into his pillows as a breathy moan falls from your lips.

Sleeping over at Steve’s place after the two of you stayed out a little too late has become a part of your weekly routine, and having his head between your thighs in the early cracks of dawn will be, too.

Favorite Part

steve harrington x fem!reader

🎵I’m tangled in his arms, this is my favorite part, suddenly there’s no worries anymore. 🎵

summary: In the middle of the night, you and steve miss each other.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: 18 + soft semi desperate spooning smut with no plot besides that you and steve had a long week apart, mentions of ass play (fem receiving), dirty talk, cream pie.

author’s note: adjusting to new meds has made writing not come easy, this little blurb is to help me get back into the swing of this. I hope you enjoy 🥹

Your bedroom was dark when you opened your eyes, nothing but the deep purple haze of the late night and the soft glow of street lights in the distance illuminating your four walls. The big tree outside your window dances shadows across your blinds, the low hum of wind carrying what’s left of the storm with it. You loved it best like this, surrounded by him, he’s warm like the sun that was somewhere shining on the other side of the planet, soft with sleep and the smell of spearmint fresh on his breath. The rich pine of his body wash still lingers on his skin from the shower you shared before climbing in bed too tired for anything but sleep. The rain tapping against your window in just the right rhythm to send you both into your dreams.

Your naked limbs lay tangled under the sheets, the dark patch of hair on his chest tickles against the dip of your back with every deep breath your boyfriend takes. The blunt edges of his nails digging into the soft flesh of your hips when he stirs like something exciting is happening to him in whatever place he’s lost in behind his shifting lids. A low puff of air exhales through his parted lips, fanning hot across the nape of your neck, goosebumps rising in its wake while his nose nudges against the shell of your ear. A tight grip by his big hands pulls you closer, strong arms caging you in. You wonder if he’s awake now, like you.

It’s only when you feel the softest press of his lips against your hairline that you know he is. Pushing deeper into his chest, he hums low in approval, wrapping himself even tighter around you, muscles flexing under a sea of freckles. His skin was tanner than usual from the beginnings of the summer sun and you swear you can still feel the heat it left behind while your fingertips trace invisible lines. Lulling your head back to rest against his shoulder, you open your neck up for more, enticing a path for his lips to go. You feel him smile, the stubble on his jaw a little more noticeable as he lights a fire inside of you with each kiss, the sweetness from before becoming a little more hungry when you grind against his hard length pressed between your ass.

“Sweet girl.” His voice is low with a warning he doesn’t mean, the hand on your hip working its way down to grab at the soft meat of your thigh, squeezing, encouraging.

Rolling your hips again, he palms the side of your ass cheek, his own hips meeting yours, his tip catches the entrance you’d only let him explore with his tongue or sometimes a thumb while he’d make you come undone. He taunts you with it, pushing just enough to have you whine, wiggling against him for more.

“That feels good, baby?” His lips brush against your ear with every word, nodding dumbly, the sleep is still so thick in his voice makes your eyes roll in the back of your head. “Is this where you want me?”

“Steve.” You huff already tired of his teasing, he chuckles in between sucking purple bruises where the one’s he’d left before had faded.

His palm curves under your knee to hook your leg over his hip and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed when your thighs pull apart sticky, a disbelieving groan leaving his throat when his cock slides heavy between your slick lips. He can feel how wet you are from just a little bit of his teasing.

“Honey,” He sounds wrecked when he talks again, pulling your leg even farther back so his tip can catch your clit with just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. “Were you dreamin’ about me or somethin’?”

Maybe you were, you couldn’t remember, not when he starts circling your entrance, your walls fluttering around his head with anticipation.

“Please,” your voice sounds small, pleading, as the week of not seeing your boyfriend starts to all hit you at once. “Missed you so much, please, I need it.” It sounds like you're throwing a fit as all of it starts to feel like too much and he’s not even giving you enough.

“Shhh, I got you, I got you. I’ll always give you what you want, so sweet for me. Asking so nice baby.” He coos in your ear, his words dripping with honey as he lines himself up, your back arching against him as he inches in slow enough for you to adjust to the big stretch.

It’s like warm silk the way you wrap around him, your walls giving into him no matter how impossible it always seemed at first. Whispered words of I missed you’s, and I love you’s flow freely from his wet lips while you take him to the hilt. The thick patch of hair that frames his base rubbing against your clit in a way that has you keening.

“Fuuuuck.” He huffs, his forehead pressing to your shoulder, his cock twitching against your muscles that flutter and constrict around him. Stilling your hips with a firm hold you can tell he’s trying hard not to cum.

He leaves lazy kisses along your back when he finally starts to move, he’s slow, taking his time so you can feel all of him. Every ridge and curve takes up space, stealing your breath with each punch to the spot only he can find. The tip of his nose runs along the back of your neck while his palm finds a new home on the swell of your breast, your nipples peaking instantly just for him.

“Takin’ me so well, look at you. Always so good to me baby.” His praise only adds to the lewd noises filling the room, sliding in and out of you with the kind of ease he usually only gets after he’s made you cum a few times. Steve feels like he might lose his mind.

You whine a little when he pinches your nipple, your own hand reaching behind to sink your fingers into his hair. You needed to kiss him. He obliges, always picking up on exactly what you want. What you need. His bottom lip connects with your top one in a messy way, the power of his thrusts making it hard for anything more than this. Panting into each other’s mouths, your tongues find each other, licking dirty in the middle. The animalistic need for each other finally comes to a head, when two of his fingers find your puffy ignored clit.

“Babbbyyy.” You're so loud and he loves the way you sound like you’re gonna cry, tightening around him like a vice.

His lips tug up in a smirk when he nods against your open mouth, silently telling you he knows. You make a mess of his fingers that circle the bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure to make your toes curl and your eyebrows pinch together.

“You wanna cum for me?” He sounds strained, teetering the edge like you despite the confidence of his words, his hips stuttering to prove it.

“P- please.” Your response makes him groan, his fingers picking up their pace as you meet each thrust with just as much vigor desperate to reach your high. White hot heat fills your insides as your body starts to come apart, the sound of your sweat slick skin smacking together bouncing off your walls.

“Saying please like that is gonna me cum too, you want that? You want it baby?” He eggs you on as your head falls back, your jaw going slack when he circles his hips hitting the deepest spot inside of you. “Say please one more time for me, come on.”

He’s practically growling for you to give him what he wants. A fucked out “please!” falling from your trembling lips before your body goes limp in his arms overwhelmed by all of him as your orgasm starts to rip through you like a tidal wave.

Your vision blurs from the intensity of it, mouth open in a silent scream as tears prick the corners of your eyes. He stills to paint your insides, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he bites down on your pulse point to keep from crying out. His whole body trembling against yours as he pulls you impossibly close. You’ve never felt so full, as he slowly starts to leak out.

An aftershock causes you to flutter, making him hiss against your bruised skin overstimulated by the intensity of it all before he’s finally soft enough to slip out of you. The sleepiness from after the shower returns to both of your spent bodies as he nuzzles his face back into you making no moves to untangle himself.

“I really missed you.” He mumbles, pressing a tender kiss to his favorite spot behind your ear.

“I really missed you too Stevie.” You hum content, the sound of the storm returning filling the quiet again.

Cant stop thinking about gamer Steve, him in front of his pc set up, which I know he would have the best of the best set up, you on his lap nuzzled into him, his hands reaching in front of you so his big fingers can click the keyboard, his eyes fixated on the screen. Sometimes in concentration he sticks his tongue out to the side of his mouth it’s adorable. Your hand slowly rubbing through his soft wavy hair or down his chest and arms, if you get to tired and stop or get too lost watching how he plays his game in awe, he’s quick to give you a little nudge as a way to ask why you stopped. Your touch just calms him, he likes having you right by him, stealing kisses when he can, keeping his seat warm when he takes a bathroom break, feeding him chips or mini Oreos his favorite. Rubbing circles on his back and kissing his cheek, shoulders, and neck. “It’s okay baby you’ll get them next time” you coo when he’s annoyed he lost, “you did it baby! I knew you would!” you clap truly impressed at your boyfriend, saying praises that turn his cheeks red making him chuckle and kiss you back even harder🫠

Wallet Polaroid

Summary: Steve Harrington is home alone, not knowing what to do since you’re busy, suddenly he remembers a picture of you tucked away in his wallet, he uses it and jeez does it get the job done.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem Reader

Word count: 500

Warnings: MNDNI 18+, male masterbation, descriptive language, polaroid of readers boobs

Master list:

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Steve is sprawled across his bed, a tennis ball in hand as he throws it up in the air, catching it and throwing it up again. He tried everything to rid his boredom, went swimming in his pool, smoked a joint, tried to call you, to which you didn’t answer, took a shower and made some food, tried to call you again…to which you didn’t answer.

He knew earlier you told him you’d be busy tonight, but that didn’t stop him from calling you a third time that night, once again not getting an answer :/, with a roll of his eyes and a heavy pout on his face, he places the phone back on the wall, feet bringing him to his bed, his back hitting it as he flops down, letting out a heavy sigh.

It’s not till he gets reminded of the one thing he didn’t try tonight… he rises to his legs and begins to make his way to a pair of jeans discarded on his floor, he picks them up, searching his pockets till he finds his leather wallet, hands flicking it open, finger tips searching the compartments till he finds it, the dim light of the room reflecting off a shiny polaroid. His cock practically jumps beneath his boxers as he pulls out a polaroid of you, aching at the sight.

You hold the camera angled at your chest, dressed in a small light pink tank top, one of Steve’s favorite that you wear, it’s bunched up and sitting perfectly over your tits, your free hand propping them up with a soft squeeze.

He can feel his hard cock throbbing, the tension begging to be released, he feels his cheeks get red as he takes in the picture, his wallet dropping to his floor as he grips the polaroid between his fingers, carefully he sets it on the dresser in front of him, his hands moving to remove his boxers, they drop to his feet and he kicks them off, his cock springing free.

Right next to the picture is a bottle of lotion, he uses a squirt to lubricant his hand before quickly wrapping his fingers over his length, spreading the lotion down his shaft, a moan escaping as he grazes his red tip, his other hand grabbing the polaroid once again.

As he scans the polaroid he can’t help but notice how soft your nipples look, so pink and plush, ready to be licked and sucked by him. He runs his fist up and down his shaft, squeezing softly, pre cum dribbling out of his tip, he moves his hand up to swipe it away, gracefully moving over his slit, releasing a heavy groan from him.

As he stares at the picture, he imagines your hand squeezing your tits to show them off to him, imaging how good it would feel to squeeze your tits together and place his cock perfectly between them, grinding his hips so he can fuck them. He hears the pretty sounds of your moans caused by him, he feels the softness of your skin, the sweet smell of your hair, it’s all enough to send him overboard.

He pumps his hand faster on his cock, whiny moans fall between his lips, the sound of his hand moving up and down him is prominent in his room, his mind can’t help but to wonder beyond the picture, how just below the frame you sit in panties, your wet cunt waiting for his thick member to fill you up, your legs resting against the soft sheets in your bed, the bed he gets to fuck you in, the bed where you take polaroids of yourself for him! And for him to use in this exact way.

Deep grunts fall out as he gets closer and closer, unable to deny it any longer, his grip on his cock tightening as his orgasm tumbles out of him cum shooting from him. All sorts of noises fall out of him, pathetic groans and whimpers, any curse word you can think of. He imagines you finishing with him, how your face would be flushed with a red tint, your eyes squeezing shut as you moan his name, how he would pull out and cum all over your tits, still pumping and squeezing so that every drop falls out of him and he’s completely drained by you. He finally calms his breathing, eyes still on the picture, taking it in, he lets out a sigh as he painfully pulls his eyes away from the picture to look down at the mess he’s made, the mess you made him make, his cock limp and tired, his tip red and wet. He bends down to pick up his wallet, tucking the picture back where it belongs so he can use it for next time, before moving to clean up the mess.

Master list:

Make out session with Steve Harrington

just a thought 😋

Kinda inspired by the pic below because Steve Harrington is such a hand holder during sex and I love it.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem Reader

Word count: 356

Warnings: MNDNI 18+ Make out session, heavy petting and grinding, descriptive words

Master list:

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Late nights in Steve’s bedroom, you were never much of a kisser, yeah a few short make out sessions with past bfs, never lasting more than an hour, fine. -Then you met Steve. god you can kiss him for hours and I mean hours.

Your back to the bed, Steve hovering over you, legs tangled in his as he weighs heavily on top of you lips attached to yours. The only noises are of his record player playing from across his dim room-that sits in his empty house. Along with soft groans and hums from when you slightly tug Steve’s hair as you pull your mouth into him more, something you know he loves, more hums and groans Steve earns from you by massaging your boobs through your shirt your bra to the floor. His hands grazing, exploring and grabbing every inch of you like he’s never had you before, completely captivated. Like always because he loves touching his girl. He can’t keep his hands off of you, especially when you’re like this, pinned down under him.

The touch of your boyfriends hands all over your body gives you butterflies, heating you all around, you feel it in your heat through your shorts. Steve’s hands trail down to your knee widening your legs so your even more open for him, the same hand moving from your knee, up to your thigh and gripping your hips, then to your boobs, squeezing and massaging, taking turns; then moving to your arm and down to your fingers, intertwining them with yours, pushing your guys hands into the mattress.

Every once and a while you grind your hips up to meat Steve’s, only to be pushed down even harder by his own hips grinding into yours, creating a friction between you as he deepens his kiss, you feel his cock harden under his jeans, adding even more texture to grind up against. Your nails from your other hand digging into his back, as your own back arches from time to time, allowing Steve to explore even more territory, his hand snaking under your back, lips moving to your neck, and back to your mouth.

This cycle repeats till you either end up laying on top of him in a deep sleep, or you’re a moaning mess as he fucks into you😇

Master list: