Aesthetic and Freedom

things are steamy and the two of you slip into a semblance of routine you’ve established. irukas got you on your back while he gets you ready, lapping between your folds like he’s trying to drink water from a bowl. you swear, he knows the parts he sucks and licks at do nothing for you, he’s just that desperate to taste every bit- not let a drop go to waste. you lace your fingers in his loose hair and give the scalp they’re attached to the gentlest squeeze, eliciting a whine from the man below. oww, he doesn’t like it when you pull too hard. one eye shuts closed with a wince and he comes up for air, strings of saliva and you connect his jaw and your saturated cunt as follows the gentle pull upwards. “you don’ wan’ anymore? you ready?” he whines a bit. lust clearly clouds him, his words always slur when he’s feeling good with you- one of the things he’s always embarrassed about. you shake your head, “mm mm, want you to lick it good. know you can.” you huff. iruka really is great at head but again, he just gets carried away by his own desire. he flushes and looks away, nodding. “mm, mhm. m’ sorry.” he whispers, voice straining a bit. oh, did you hurt his feelings? you didn’t mean like that- he was doing a good job, you were just needy and didn’t want the teasing. quickly you push yourself up on an arm to cup the cheek he turned and refocus him to you. “don’t be sorry baby, m jus’ bein needy. feel so good, always make me feel so good- jus’ wan’ more.” you reassure him with a small laugh underlining your words. “m’ greedy. greedy for you.”

you want him to know he’s doing good. luckily, it looks like it’s worked. you can almost see his tail start to wag and his ears perk up at the acknowledgment and he nods with a cute little smile on his face. you can’t help but ruffle the top of his head as you settle back down and push him back to resume his work. “good boy” you moan as he starts, just for him to stop again. his eyes are locked on you when you lift your head back up to see what he stopped for. the grip his fingers hold between where your thighs and hips meet tightens and an embarrassed, shaky “mmmnn…” vibrates into your pussy. you put two and two together quickly and realize, he liked that. he really liked that. you giggle and the hand you’ve still got on him gives his scalp an encouraging nail-less scritch. “heha- good boy? you like that baby?” your voice is a bit hoarse and he moans again, knitting his eyebrows together and shutting them tight. you egg him on further, “c‘mon, you were doing so good honey, keep going f’r me. be a good boy.” you really like it too. iruka whimpers again and with a nod his mouth mounts the top of your pussy and he starts massaging the flat of his tongue against your clit. praises spill from your mouth the whole time and irukas reactions only intensify. he’s got his left arm rested over your abdomen, gripping your waist and his right working his two fingers into you while he abuses that pretty little bud.

before his dick is out he’s got you spilling around his mouth once. the sweltering heat of arousal dissipates and you refocus from your first climax to see iruka looking up at you with his head resting on your breast. he looks up at you expectedly, waiting for you to come down from your high and acknowledge him. whatever you say is yours. you cup his face once more and smile, “good boy baby, so good for me. make me feel so good.” you’re still panting and your words are shaky but true. that tone, that expression, all of it fuels iruka more than anything has before. his heart feels so full- he’s so happy he’s making you feel good, that's all he wants to do. this attitude iruka has taken up is affecting you too, clearly. he’s just so fucking cute you want to treat him like the sweetest dumbest little puppy. you coax his head up so he can kiss you and muster the strength to raise your jellified knees to his sides. the kiss is sloppy, iruka is so vocal- like every little thing is stimulating him in some way. when your tongue slides down his throat he lets it happen, letting his jaw go slack and you assault his mouth with yours all the while he’s panting out the lewdest whines. the two of you pull apart and he’s a mess above you, almost trembling. he’s a mess when you tell him to ditch the fishnet top he’s got on, when you tell him to free his cock from his boxers, when you tell him to line up the tip to your entrance, when you command him and praise him each time he obeys. he feels drunk, he’s so unbelievably aroused he might just cum the moment he puts the tip in.

you coax him through each movement like you’ve never been intimate before. slutty moans spill from his mouth every other second, he’s so overwhelmed- especially inside you. you’re soaked and each micro-movement has got him gritting his teeth as your wet warmth envelopes him. “ahh, pretty- fuck-ngh, hahh, ‘s good- you feel really good-ah,” he sings, voice crackling. you’re so wet there’s almost no friction for him to be held up by. his thrusts are unsteady but it’s the fact that he’s pulling out so far and shoving it back in with no resistance that’s killing you. a ring of white marks the base of his cock and he’s fucking into you at a slowly increasing pace, mouth agape and a constant flow of noise escaping him. “iruka- baby- fuck,” you cry, the assault on your insides picking up and catching you off guard. “fuck pretty boy, jus’ like that, so fucking good- so good inside me baby,” your voice hikes a couple pitches as you’re now getting fully pounded into with the help of his hands wrapping around your hips to pull you to his pelvis. warmth dribbles down your ass and your eyes roll at the vulgarity of it all- getting fucked so sloppy by your dog of a boyfriend. your hands search for something to grab at and you grip at his and whine out a “‘ruka baby,” to catch his attention. his eyes dart to you and he’s eager to give you what you need. you make grabby hands to indicate your neediness. you want him. iruka nods enthusiastically and shifts positions, hooking his hand underneath your knees and pushing them up out of the way so he can be closer chest-to-chest with you.

he’s focused on your blissed-out face and all he can think is how good he’s making you feel- he’s doing good, you told him so. he loves doing good. his eyes burn and he’s sniffling before he knows it- he feels too fucking good. a mix of a moan and a sob wracks his body and his head drops, his hair tickling your forehead now. you reach up to run your fingers through his hair and cup his face, forcing him to lock his eyes with yours. “iruka baby- god, don’t fuss pretty boy. fuckin’ me- so- good-“ you groan, voice unraveling at the end as he punctuates each of your words with a deep thrust. “m’ good.. m’ a good boy..” iruka chants, voice teetering on the edge. he switches his angle and releases one of your knees from the pin he had it in to sneak his hand down to your clit. “w’nna be good, w’nna make you cum..” iruka rumbles and you squeal at the pad making contact with your sensitive nub. “god- ‘ruka, so good-“ you mewl, starved for air as you’re quickly shoved towards your finish line. you hadn’t realized you were this close and you can barely get a word out before you’re reaching it. “g’nna cum ‘ruka, don’ stop baby, fuck- just like that, good boy-“ you chant and he quickly joins in. “cum for me, please, let me cum with you please, ‘m almost there.” he cries. with eyes locked and you gripping his face like he’s gonna slip away you quickly nod and beckon him to, “cum with me ‘ruka” and you’re both tensing around the other in seconds. irukas hips stutter before he buries all the way inside and your body goes taut as you curl into your climax. irukas so fucking loud in your ear, you didn’t think he could moan this loud. it’s not like you hold yourself back either, but seeing iruka so shameless and uninhibited makes you squeeze around him even harder.

by the time you regain the sense that was fucked out of you you realize irukas is back on your chest, arms dipped under your shoulders and holding you. your hand finds your way to his hair and you start to massage the top of his head. your other rests on his back, splayed out and rubbing up and down while you whisper praises to him. iruka whines and nuzzles closer in between your boobs, still fucked out.

the “embarrassment” never comes. when you get up to wash yourselves he sticks by your side and makes a sound of disapproval when he’s not skin to skin with you somehow for more than 5 seconds. when you’re settling back into bed he cuddles right back up to you and is unabashedly desperate for your warmth. “you’re cute.” “mm.” “super cute. i liked that a lot.” “mmmhn.” he nuzzles into your chest, radiating warmth into you. “…i did too. thank you.”

SHINO ABURAME ⸝⸝ spit, oral fixation

coaxing shino out of his shell took a bit, especially in your shared sex life. once he was out of it though, shino was a passionate lover. he could get a little lost in you, and a bit rough- but in the best way. he was just so eager and you felt too good. branching out from vanilla sex wasn’t discussed really, you had asked if he ever wanted to get rougher since that was usually the pace he fell into- fucking into you hard and getting a bit handsy, squeezing your boobs, nipping and sucking marks into your neck, chest and back. the ways in which you describe “rougher” aren’t so appealing to him though. he doesn’t want to hit you, doesn’t wanna hurt you. you don’t mind the rejections, they were just suggestions that you’d be down to try anyway. you’ve just always felt like there’s more behind that stoic face.

you were mid prep, instructed by shino to lay back against the headboard and play with yourself a bit while he undressed himself. you’re already easing a finger into yourself while you watch him take each article off. his forehead protector, his vest and undershirt, and his pants are all discarded into a pile. at the bottom is his signature hooded coat, hastily taken off earlier during the heated makeout session that had led you into the bedroom. one thing about shino was that he loved to kiss you. shino didn’t do pecks. if you were gonna kiss him, you had to make sure you gave him at least 5 minutes to get his fill of your mouth, and then that might turn into an hour with the boner he gets just from that.

shino turns back to you and the mattress dips on one side and then the other as he situates himself over top of you. slipping another finger in, you moan and he can’t help but take advantage of that pretty mouth. “keep going.” he instructs between light kisses before diving in and tonguing you down. you’re squirming underneath his assault, getting needier as he violates every inch of your mouth. after a few minutes of making out, you have an idea and use your other hand to push against his chest. spit chains the two of you together and you’re both panting and flushed. you wince a bit as you take your fingers out of yourself, needing a bit more lube as your body hasn’t caught up to your brain just yet. your fingers are still glistening otherwise and you lift them to your tongue, taking them both into your mouth and beginning to suck them clean. shino audibly moans at the action, goading you on while you spit and fuck them in and out of your mouth like a cock. at one point you go deep. deep enough to elicit the prettiest gargle around them and make you tear up at the intrusion in your throat- and shino is redder than ever. “fuck, so pretty.” the praise goes straight to your cunt and you hump up into nothing. shino is a man of few words but makes them count with you. shino lifts his right hand and spits in it before it makes its way to replace the empty space your cunt is crying out for to be filled and you squeal as he rubs circles into your sensitive nub. your fingers slip from your mouth and a trail of spit breaks off, leaking down your face and making a mess of you. shino hasn’t looked away from your mouth once, beginning the process of stretching your hole out around his one finger that’s going deeper and stretching you harder than your own two like his arm has a mind of its own. shino catches your open mouth and lolling tongue in a sloppy kiss, his saliva flooding into you like he’s starving and you are the one he’s going to devour. it’s so messy and you’re granted no break, eyes rolling back while he’s fingerfucking you open, thumbing your clit, and suffocating you with his tongue all at once.

by the time he’s seemingly had his fill mouthfucking you you’re plenty stretched, whining and bucking into nothing when he retracts his hand from your parts. “shino- please, wan’ you.” you pout and whine, squirming and kneading at whatever you can get your hands on. his bicep, his chest, his torso, his back. you don’t even realize the hand that was just making work of your insides is in front of your face until a command echoes above you. “clean them.” he says. your mouth opens and he leans further forward to insert them. you take them eagerly, moaning and slobbering as you taste yourself around his slender, smooth digits. shino audibly groans at the little show you’re putting on and starts moving them, fucking them into your throat like he just was in your other hole. you gurgle and gag around them, resigning yourself and letting him play with you this way. one particularly hard gag has him retracting them and praising you for how well you cleaned him up. funny, since now you’re a fucked out drooly mess. shino kisses your pretty tears away while you sniffle and catch your breath. some might view his treatment as a bit mean, but you’ve never felt more cared for under someone else’s watch. he is just wholly obsessed with you.

shino hums and leans back on his knees to get to work on his boxers. “turn around.” shino commands, and you’re on your chest with your ass up in a beat. shino loves this position. you pale in comparison to his height so he can easily pull you into a hug from behind and look down at your pretty face while you take him. as he lines up the tip with your entrance you brace for the intrusion. even with how stretched and wet you are, things can’t escalate so much just yet. shino is… big. even when he’s fully hard his cock fights gravity to stand up all the way. this position makes it easier to take him too. you hear him spit from behind and you tremble, finding it kind of too hot. the tip presses flush against your entrance and he leans forward, letting his cock enter as much as it can without moving his hips forward. this way you can both notice when the resistance starts and go from there. you take about half before he groans at the tightness and you whine at the sting. one arm is propped to hold himself up and the other is hooked around to the front of you and pulling you into his chest. his hand finds one of your breasts and he groans when he starts to knead at it. he loves these too. really, he loves each part of you (and is sure to remind you, especially when you can feel his cock throb as he gropes at you.)

the two of you settle into a steady rhythm and you’re sinking further and further into the pillow and duvet you’re fucking on top of. you’re fully relaxed taking him, his hands caressing and massaging each part of you only making it easier. your knees are close to giving out before you scoops you up, his right arm filling the pass between your breasts and a hand coming up to hold your jaw. you’re flush to his chest in an instant as he fucks up into you. you feel pathetic under his eyes in this newly compromising position. his other wraps around your tummy and he’s fully supporting you, taking on the burden your poor little body couldn’t handle. the ever-observant shino. your hands grasp for something to hold, first groping at your own breasts and then grabbing at the arm holding your chest up before shino cuts you off with something akin to a growl and he’s maneuvering his left arm, the one wrapped around your waist to restrain your two hands together and bring them to your hips as they resume their previous position. you’re helpless, and the two of you love it this way. you’re getting fully fucked wide now, warmth seeping down the inside of your thighs as he makes a mess of you. your jaw is slack and shino takes the opportunity to turn your head to the side slightly to slip his index inside your mouth and tug your cheek, exposing the blush inside with strings of saliva connecting the roof and floor. shino shudders and you catch a glimpse of his dark, murky eyes filled with something you can only compare to the look of a predator who’s finally caught its prey. you look so slutty. eyes glossed and hooded, mouth agape and a mess, strands of hair stuck to your forehead. shino catches you in a kiss once more, though short-lived to your surprise. you’re caught leaning forward into it and he breaks it, fingers slotted along your jawline and he’s steady for a moment. his lips purse and out comes a glob of spit, dripping from the apex of his tongue that flops from his own mouth. you’re desperate, embarrassingly so, and you strain upwards to catch it on your tongue before shino devours you once more. like a fish to bait. the both of you moan into the other, the depravity of your actions hitting you two like a high.

when you part you both sound like you’ve both been underwater for too long, a harmony of gasps, moans, and whines fills the air as shino fucks into you faster. your head lolls against his shoulder, clearly spent. everything’s a blur, you don’t even realize the shift your body is undergoing until the plush of the pillow is against your cheek again. your wrists are released and limply fall against the bed and shino adjusts his arms to focus on holding your ass up for him. he’s growling at this point, the two of you sticky with each other and all you can do is whine his name over and over again. it’s music to his ears, and it sounds even better when he slots a finger in your mouth. he doesn’t push it, he doesn’t move it, and you do nothing with it either, but the sound of slurred “‘inoo.. pleathe… hahh-, ngh… grk ahh.. ‘iiinooo..!” coming from you has got him falling apart “fuck- m’ close.. need you to cum, lovebug.” he falters. his right-hand shifts, focusing the weight on his arm to just his hand as he holds it right over where he’s hitting you inside. he snaps his hips downwards, abusing the bundle of nerves he finds till the feeling catches up to you and you sob. it doesn’t take much for that coil in your tummy to quickly build- you tremble but shino holds you steady like always. you are putting no effort into supporting yourself, all of it is focused on just keeping yourself awake. “‘thinooo… ‘ino-! hahh, n’ gonna cum ‘inoo-“ you panic with how fast your climax builds and hits you, your vision goes black as it wracks you in waves. shino is quick to follow, pumping you full as the thud of his balls hit your clit once- twice- three times as he finishes.

by the time you rouse from your sleep the warmth seeping between your legs is gone and your cheeks and chin are wiped clean. shino is at the edge of the bed slipping a shirt on before he turns with one in hand for you, halting when he realizes you’re up. it hadn’t been long. maybe 8 minutes- tops. sex is written across your body and face. the flush across your cheeks and nose and hair strewn and stuck to your skin, lips practically bruised they’re so pink.

“good morning, lovebug.” shino sighs, immediately making his way toward you from across the bed. all you can do is smile and croak out a “‘morninggg.” shino hides a laugh and you limply swat his chest. “‘s your fault.” you rasp, throat spent from the assault from earlier in the night. “i’m sorry pretty, you’re right. let me take care of you.” he dotes, moving the hair stuck to your forehead out of your face and trailing it down your chin. for a moment his thumb taps against your lips and trails down, catching the bottom one. like he’s admiring his work. you flush deeper and then quickly turn your head. “no. you devil.” you spit and he laughs, murmuring another apology between kisses on your neck as the two of you giggle. “it was good?” he asked after a small silence. “mhm. liked it a lot.” “good. me too.”

KAKASHI HATAKE ⸝⸝ dumbification

kakashi got on your nerves. you’ll be honest. the sex is fine- it’s good- okay, it’s really good. but for some reason, kakashi always doesn’t put much effort. he’s naturally good at it, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t try a little harder- maybe? maybe you’re just desperate. kakashi is obsessed with you, wholly. his associates tell you nothing otherwise. it’s always “kakashi kept bringing you up,” or “kakashi wouldn’t stop complaining about wanting to get back to you,” from them. you’re on his mind constantly from how they describe him, but why doesn’t he act like that to you?

in the beginning, you loved riding him, but now it’s all he requests. is he really just… lazy? you wonder. you wanna feel desired, you wanna feel… sexy. you two had only been together a year and some change, but had he fallen out of interest with you already? you recall a conversation with gai. mentions of kakashi past, the loss he’s endured. gai’s convinced that kakashi acts cool with you because he’s just as scared as you are. the two of you departed with the advice of, “be upfront with him! the two of you are still young and things are only just now blooming!”

a pit is in your stomach the entire night. you pray that your stupid plan doesn’t end up fucking you over. you knew kakashi would be home late tonight, but not this late. you were gonna coax him by flashing the fact that you were pantieless at him once he got home, but you’re splayed in bed waiting for any creak, woosh, or hinge noise to signal the fact that he’s home- and nothing comes. sleep tempts you but the wetness between your thighs overpowers it and you just can’t help but reach your hand down there. images of kakashi flash in your mind- kakashi doing things other than let you ride him while he grips your hips and whispers you dirty praises. you want him to fuck you. like, really fuck you. your brain is foggy with sleep and arousal and all you can think about is getting fucked this way, fucked until you have no semblance of composure anymore.

you’re inserting the second finger and muffling your own sounds with a pillow when you feel the mattress dip next to you. kakashis already stripped down to his sleeveless turtleneck, getting ready to take that off too when you rip your head out of the pillow and yelp. he doesn’t look at you. his back is facing towards you and you’re left petrified. kakashi lazily looks back at you with a smirk on his face. “watcha doin, pretty lady?”

kakashi hums and scooches his way next to you. you can’t get a word out- you’re trying to force something out but it’s just not working. “ahhh? you gonna tell me?” that fucking smile. he’s so annoying- how does he make you feel so good? “m’ touchin’,” you mumble. “missed you.” you admit, hopefully egging him on. “yeahhh girlie? thinkin’ about me?” he’s getting closer, lying right next to you. you nod and sink back down into the bed, laying flat and looking up at him from the pillow. “mhm.” you nod pathetically.

“what’s my girl wanna do? you wanna keep going for me? want my help, sweetheart?” kakashis hand finally meets you and you whine at the fingers combing through your hair and dragging along your back. “kakashi.” “yeah?” “i want you to fuck me.” he laughed. “i can do that.” “no, kakashi,” you grab the hand that’s leaving you and look up at him, now laying on your side completely naked in front of him, “i want you to fuck me. like take it all out on me. wan’ you to fuck me dumb,” you admitted. he's still for a moment and you scan his face for anything. a few seconds pass and his eyes narrow as his cheeks rise. you don't even need the mask off to see that stupid smile.

you’re bent over and your face is back in the pillow and the room is echoing with the lewdest sounds. kakashi’s got you cumming around his mouth once, slurping you relentlessly. he’s gripping your hips like you’re trying to run from him, keeping you in place while you squirm from the overstimulation. you’re weakly kicking and the flat of his tongue goes from your clit to your asshole a couple times, cleaning you up before he drops the hips he’s been holding up with a thud. you hadn’t even realized he’s been holding all your weight until you were lying flat and trembling before him. “that feel good, pretty girl?” kakashi's voice is gentle, so gentle it’s malicious. he maneuvers your limp body like it’s nothing, straightening your legs out and straddling your thighs from behind. all you can is weakly whine and moan, hazy from his overstimulation. “nngh.. mhmmm” you slurp. you’re drooling. kakashi laughs and leans over- cock rubbing against your ass while he’s got your jaw in a grip, forcing you to look up. “look at you baby, makin’ a mess.” he tuts, pulling you into a sloppy kiss. his dick is slotted between your asscheeks and you wiggle a bit while he kisses you, eliciting a deep groan into your mouth. “gotta watch yourself, pretty lady.” he’s warning you. “told you- wan’ you to fuck me stupid. i neeeeed it.” you whine, helplessly wiggling your legs. he’s gentle, so gentle. he caresses your pretty face and gives you a couple light paps on the cheek. your brain lights up at the mean stimulation. “i got you, sweet girl. i’ll give you just what you want, yeah?” it’s condescending, the way he’s speaking to you- and you eat it up, nodding enthusiastically.

he’s hitting you, so fucking deep- drilling his hips right into the bundle of nerves seated against the front of your pussy. your legs are slightly spread and bent so your toes graze his back every so often. warmth floods beneath you, “so wet f’r me, pretty lady.” he grunts out, leaving his mouth agape so you can hear the air leave his lungs with each thrust. “go-o-o-dd uhh, ka-ka-shiii.” you’re loud, vocalizing each time you feel him hit you, again and again. “hah, ‘s good baby? this is what you wanted right?” he groans each time he buries himself in you, so wet it’s getting all over him. strings of you connecting your ass and his pelvis each time he pulls out before sweetly shoving it back in and forcing a mewl out of you. “nghhh… m-hmmm..” you moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head. fingers knot in your hair and he lifts you up ever so slightly, his other hand leaving crescent-shaped marks on your ass that sting each time he swats you. “hah- mmm, don’t think you’re there just yet pretty lady, do you think so?” his head dips to yours, voice low- dripping like syrup from his sly little smile. “ngh- i- i- ahhh, ‘dun-nooo..” you wither beneath him and he drops your head and runs your hand down the nape of your neck. “yeah, not when you’re babbling like that baby. i’ll make you real dumb.” he taunts you. both hands grip your hips and push you down, ass arching up farther as he hits you deeper than before.

your head is fuzzy. you’re offered no recovery time as you clench around his cock repeatedly, practically getting forced to stay in your high. you weakly fight beneath him until he stills his cock inside you with a groan. “quit moving, lady.” he punctuates his command with another spank. a string of moans leave his mouth as his cock throbs inside you, edging himself while buried inside. one move and he just might spill. weak whimpers come from you and you’re finally allowed to catch your breath after your forcefully extended orgasm. kakashi pulls out of you swiftly and rolls you over, looking up and down your body with darkness in his eyes. he can’t stop smiling at you, not once has it slipped from his face throughout it all. you’re attacked by his hands, they feel like they’re all over you. time passes differently- is passing? you’re not sure was past or present. he’s slid back inside but holds steady while he plays with your pretty little self. your boobs, your waist, your hips, your thighs, then your pretty little face. he’s inches away from it and has got your chin in a grip, forcing you to look up at him. “my pretty lady in there?” he caresses you, eyes scanning for any hint that you’ve heard him. a ‘nnh’ comes from you, but nothing more. your eyebrows knit and you make the prettiest most pathetic expression up at him. “feeling good?” “mhm,” “you all done?” a frantic dismissal comes from you. your head lolls from side to side lazily, and he takes that as permission to start fucking into you again. you can handle this. you can take him. you makes sure to tell you, filthy words flooding your already fried senses.

tender words of praise spill from his mouth to keep you grounded with him. “doin so good lady. jus’ like that, you gottt it.“ your body is limp and your jaw is loose while you babble precious high-pitched ‘thank you’s’

“ah- haha, feel so fucking good, pretty girl. do you feel good?” he talks down to you. he won’t stop fucking laughing. you gurgle a response and he’s littering your face with kisses. “yea- that’s what i thought baby- fuck.” he’s so mean.

tears prick at the outside of your eyes and you whine, quickly being thumbed away as he caresses you. “you’re okay pretty girl- i know” his demeaning tone goes straight to your clit, increasingly sensitive as his shaft ever so slightly rubs against it each time he thrusts into you. his head drops a bit, “m close, pretty lady. hohh- fuuuckkkk.” he falters, hips stuttering as his climax approaches quickly. you barely hint that you’re about to hit your third until it’s crashing over you and you’re twitching beneath him. your body goes taught and your brain blurs with the breath you’re holding and kakashi lightly paps your face a bit, forcing you to look at him. “breathe pretty girl, you got it.” you tremble and a sob wracks your body as your lungs fill back up. “yeahhh, there’s my girl. good job, honey.” he trembles, “hohh, fuck.. so fucking good.” hot cum shoots out onto your tummy and kakashi is stroking the last few pumps out over the top of you and you whimper at the warmth.

you just want to pull him into you to cuddle, whining at his (very understandable) protests against it. you need to pee, he needs to clean you off, he needs to clean himself off. he also doesn’t feel it’s right to just let you pass out immediately afterward so with some genuine convincing and sweet talking you’re sat in a warm bath, wrapped around him while he holds you up. “you alright, pretty lady?” “mhm.” “c’mon, lemme hear it. wanna hear you tell me yourself.” he nudged his head against yours.

Jiraiya is a dirty old man. 

He knows that, you know that, everybody knows that. He sees meat and he can’t control himself, he has to grope and sniff and do everything to have a taste of it. And unfortunately, you have fallen victim to this. A pretty showgirl that ended up within his clutches. You thought the place you worked at had strict rules to protect it’s staff, you were just there to dance and serve drinks, not to be touched. Unfortunately, when he tossed a stash of cash to the big, bulky bouncer assigned to care for all of you, he only nodded curtly and disappeared. Leaving you alone with him.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here, eh?” He asks, clearly tipsy. His hands already aching to knead at your supple, pliant skin. You take a step backwards, stumbling over yourself. “How much cash for a kiss, sweetheart?” He looks through his pockets, another stash thrown in your direction. It’s like he’s coaxing an animal, you feel disgusting.

But the price seems worthy enough. 

“Just a kiss?” You ask, meekly. Not even daring to take your eyes off him as you crouch down to take the money, counting it quickly. He lets out a roaring laugh, getting closer, his arm circling your waist and pulling you against him. His free hand traces your lower lip. 

“Just a kiss, baby. Maybe a little tongue, nothing more.” Maybe a grope at your ass, maybe a spank. Maybe humping against you like a dog. Nothing too bad. You gasp at how he touches you, flustered, unable to move. Ultimately you nod, closing your eyes as he delves right in. His lips are rough, much more experienced than yours. He devours at your mouth with practiced expertise, overwhelming but not sloppy even in his drunken state. You find yourself not as disgusted as you thought you would be, enjoying it even. You moan into the kiss when his hands travel to knead at your ass, you squirm in his embrace but he continues, not letting go as he bites at your bottom lip, eliciting another mewl from you. Your eyes roll, closing once more and you all but melt in his clutches. “Let’s go to a hotel, yeah? I’ll treat you well, pretty.”

“I- I don’t— I- I’m not–”

“I- I– I- You know you want this,” His gaze darkens as he mocks you, one of his hands traveling to trace the outline of your cunt through the costume you’re wearing. You shudder, manicured nails digging at his shoulders as you try to control the shaking of your legs. “Your sloppy cunt is already dripping for me, you like this old man too much, little girl?” You whine at his words, at how torturously slow he circles at your sensitive clit. He licks his lips hungrily, kissing you once more. It’s degrading, how wet and eager you actually are for him, for his touches and his money and his everything. 

He’s chivalrous enough to cover your body with his coat before going to the hotel, protective enough to keep an almost possessive arm wrapped around your waist as he glares at any other man who is walking at that hour on the same streets. He drags you to the hotel room, far too excited. You can only cling to his coat wrapped around your arms, so large it engulfs your body completely like a big blanket.

He’s unbelievably big, thick and large and menacing. He lies you over the bed, legs to his shoulders, back against the mattress. The lights are dim and reddish, and you claw at the bed-sheets as he enters you, slowly, painfully.

“Hurts!” You whine, back arching. His large hand presses your abdomen, lowering your body until it’s pressed against the mattress again.

“Shh, I know. Bear with it, it’ll feel good soon,” He offers you a lazy smile, half lidded eyes as he pushes himself inside of you even more, grunting when his tip smooches at your cervix so deliciously. Your heavy breathing and moans are enough of a signal for him to start moving, plapping at your insides with intensity. “Told you it would feel great. Just look at how she’s gripping me, so good for me. You both are so good to me, aren’t you?” He spits at your clit, smacking it lightly before rubbing it. The incessant cacophony of wet skin against wet skin is enough to drive you mad, howling in ecstasy as he hits at your cervix once again. “There you go, pretty girl. Keep taking me, your pretty pussy can handle it.” The echo of his voice drills at your already fried brain cells, your eyes crossing as he goes to kiss you again, his hand gripping at your face as he licks the drool escaping your lips. “So cock-drunk, one would think a little whore like you would need even more to become all brain dead, but you only needed so much, hmm?” He grins, pressing a big, wet smooch against your cheeks as he turns his attention back to rearranging your insides.

“I could get addicted to ruining you.”

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“Look at you. Such an easy slut for me.” He growled, making your cunt flutter around him, “Oh you like that, huh? You love being a nasty slut. Getting fucked by a stranger, you do this for everyone? Or am I just special?” 

You try to whimper out an answer but your voice has abandoned you, you see your drool glisten against the mirror.

He laughed at you, a deliciously cruel taunt. He takes hold of the roots of your hair, pulling you back from the glass and making you look at your reflection, and at him still thrusting hard behind you. 

“See how pretty you look like this?” He jerked your head to force your shy eyes to look forward. 

You made eye contact with your reflection. He was right. You did look pretty like this. Your hair pulled up in a perfect, unobtainable pony tail, falling around your face, your lips glossy and parted for your gasps, your tits half exposed from your top, threatening to spill over. He watched you from behind, admiring yourself, observing your transformation into the hedonistic slut he clocked you as the moment he met you. 

“Go on, give her a little kiss.” He pressed deeper inside you, hard against your cervix.

“W-what?’ You whined, trying to look back, but unable to break away from his grip on your hair. 

“Give yourself a pretty kiss in the mirror. Show me how sexy you think you look, come on.” He thrust again hard enough to push you forward. 

You had to catch yourself against the mirror with both hands to avoid hitting your face. You looked at yourself in the mirror again, seeing your wide, confused eyes. Sure, you looked pretty like this, but this was…weird. And probably dirty. I mean, you could see the water droplets from the sink water, when was the last time someone had cleaned this thing? And when was the last time you had kissed a mirror? Grade school? He tugged your hair again, he was certainly becoming impatient. One look in the mirror at him and you could tell he was not fucking around. You gave yourself one last appraisal in the mirror before leaning in and kissing the glass, your lips meeting the flat reflected image of themselves. 

He groaned behind you, although your eyes were closed. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, curving against your g spot. The hand in your hair pushes you further against the mirror, so you kiss again. Giving your glassy likeness a sloppy open mouthed kiss. 

“Ohhh…” You swear it sounds like he’s impressed with you, “Dirty girl.”

You let your eyes start to creep open, catching soft glimpses of your skin reflecting the dark, green bathroom light. Watching the soft pink of your tongue press against itself. You wondered what it would feel like to kiss yourself, not just another woman, but actually yourself. To taste your own tongue, to feel your softened, glossed lips gliding against themselves. You felt yourself getting wetter around him, smoothing the motion of him circling into your body again and again. He reached past your hips circling your clit with one finger sending you whimpering, opened mouth kisses fogging up your reflected partner. Who he then separated from you, pulling you back by your hair to hinge you upward against him. 

“You like this don’t you, baby?” He pinches your ear between his teeth, “I knew you were nasty.”

He circles your clit faster, letting your precum combination lube his motions. 

“You gonna cum for me? Make a nasty mess all over this bathroom. What ever dumb fucker comes in here next wont know how it got so wet. Or why it reeks of sex and cum and sweat.” He laps over your neck, “Maybe the poor fuck will wash his hands in the sink after you’ve got it soaked. You wanna squirt on me, baby?” 

Fucked dumb, you nodded stupidly, craning your neck backward for a look at him, trying to see his face. He held your neck, helping your strained gaze. You caught his eyes, watching how he strains to stay solid inside of you, fighting through your trembling, quaking nearing orgasm. You feel the bulging, familiar swell of pleasure rolling around your pelvis, you shake against him. 

“Let it go, baby. Let it go. Make a mess baby.” He fucks you deeper, “Need me to choke you, baby? That what you need? Is that what you like?” 

He peels your shirt down, exposing the soft half moon of each of your nipples, watching you begin to crumble in the mirror. He grips around your throat, holding you on the sides, enough to make your vision darken at the edges. Your whole body tenses, and a wave of squirt flushes out of you. Your orgasm joins alongside it, you cry out, as much as your held throat will allow you to. Your vision goes white and grainy, the greenish tinted light of the bathroom, blooming to cover the whole of your vision. 

“Yeah baby! Yeah thats the fucking ticket, huh? That’s what you needed, huh?” He fucked into you harder pushing out more and more, fucking you through your orgasm. 

“Fuck you’re squeezing me so tight” He lets go of your neck, and without his support, you have to fight to catch yourself on the counter, “ ‘m gonna cum. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” 

Your hips fucked back against him, desperate for him to cum inside, but he held you firm against the counter with one hand, and pulled himself out with the other. Giving himself the final strokes needed to finish. 

“No…inside…please,” You whined. 

He grunted and you felt the hot spurts of cum landing on your ass and lower back, some reaching as far up as your waist. His grip on your top tightens as he attempts to sturdy himself, trying to keep from falling on top of you. You whimper against the counter, mourning the feeling of hot, fresh cum filling you. The hand jerking himself off stops and joins you on the counter, you feel his hot pants on the back of your neck, his softening cock pressing against the seam of your body, still feeling the soft pulse of your orgasm against him. You shift slightly, trying to stand up to get the counter’s edge off of your lower stomach.

“Don’t move.” He growls, “Don’t move yet.” 

You obey, too tired to even try to ignore him. He crouches behind you, looking at his handy work. Your used, puffy cunt looks back at him, reflecting the moody green lighting of the bathroom. Your cum and his dripping together from where he marked your back. He sees one particularly potent drop slipping from the cleft of your spine, down toward your asshole. He catches it with his tongue before it reaches. 

“Oh---”You hiss, keening back against his face. 

He slurps up his mess, his fat, wet tongue sliding over all the soiled skin of your back. The taste of your skin, the taste of your shared orgasm, your sweat, his sweat melding together with his spit. Your pleasure fried nerves can pick up the gentle brush of his eyelashes as he laps over you. It’s surprisingly tender, despite its obvious perversion. A gentle, wet trail soothing your desperate skin, the soft scratch of his stubble feeling like a blanket over you. Your eyes flutter slightly, indulging in the soft treatment. Once he’s done, content that your skin is clean, he pulls your panties over your legs, placing them back over your hips and pulling your hiked up skirt back down. Your panties had caught a fair amount of your secretions, and the cool fabric pressed against your cunt, making you moan softly. 

“Can you stand?” He tucks himself back into his pants behind you, fastening them with a soft jingle of his belt. 

You test your shaking legs, holding on to the counter for support. They're trembling, and you don’t know about your gait, but you can stand. You nod, tucking your breasts back into your bra, adjusting your top back to normal. You look in the mirror, at your reflection and feel almost a bit shy looking at her. He moves a piece of hair behind your ear, making you turn to face him. He looks different outside of the mirror, all his dimensions, both internal and external taking form in front of you. 

“You okay?” His eyes scan over you quickly, darting across your features. 

He looks actually worried. The hard, nasty demeanor from just moments ago has evaporated. 

You smile, tilting your head a bit, “I’m good. Looks like your cock’s not the only thing that gets soft afterward, huh?”

He chuckles, and even in the bathroom’s dim light you think you see a blush, “Just checking on you. I’m not a monster.” 

You laugh lightly, “No, you’re a real gentleman. Don’t know anyone else who’d clean me up like that.” you turn back to the sink to wash your hands, trying to avoid the wetter spots. 

He brushes your hair off your neck, giving it a small kiss, “A gentleman, huh? I think you’re the first person to ever call me that.” 

You turned off the water reaching for the paper towel dispenser, “Well I may not have the best standards, so don’t take it too seriously.” 

You dry your hands and turn back to him. He doesn’t look wounded by your joke. You lean back against the counter. 

“So…what now? You walk out first? I walk out first?” You bite your bottom lip, unsure of how to proceed. 

Despite his teasing before, you didn’t actually do this very often, and you weren’t sure if this…meant anything for him. The way you were starting to think it did for you.

He shrugs, “How about you give me your number?” 

“Oh?” 

He leans over you, placing his hand on either side of the counter, closing you in, “Or…if you don’t wanna give out your number, to someone you just met. I can take you to a late dinner, and you can invite me back to your place. Then you can give me your number so I can take you out again.” 

“How can you be so sure you’ll wanna take me out again? Or that I want to see you again?” You put your arms over his shoulders. 

“Because you're sexy, and you like me. And I like you. And that's a rare thing to come by these days. And I think after some polite conversation and some more impolite behavior tonight, you’ll find you want to see me again too.” He leaned in to kiss you but was stopped by a hard wrap on the door. 

 “Hurry the fuck up! No way y’all are still fucking and people wanna pee!!” A fussy voice demands from the other side. 

You can't help but laugh, pushing your forehead against his, “Busted.” 

He shares your laugh, kissing you gently before taking your hand. 

“Come on.” He leads you out of the bathroom without any staggering of exits, no point when there was a line of annoyed bar patrons who had all clearly heard what had just happened.

You’d been at the Squawk with Steve and Robin, the three of you crammed into the booth like always. Robin, as usual, was rambling about something while Steve laughed and bumped his knee into yours under the table, grounding you without even trying. 

By the time the clock crept past 8:30, the air outside was already dark and heavy, that familiar tightness had started curling in your chest; one that always showed up when it got late.

You’d told yourself you could handle it, that you were fine and you weren’t helpless, but you still asked Steve to accompany you home anyway, too afraid to go on your own.

“Can you come with me?” you’d asked casually, “or at least drive me home?”

Steve frowned, glancing at Robin. “Baby, you’ll be fine. You can go on your own. I’ll be back in like an hour, okay? ”

You nodded and kissed him goodbye, then you walked out to your car telling yourself you weren’t a scared little kid, and that nothing can harm you anymore.

Only to realize halfway down the lot that your coat was still inside.

So you turned around.

That was all; a forgotten coat, a stupid, normal thing, and you would have been in and out in seconds if not for your name cutting through the noise in the squawk as you heard Steve mention you to Robin.

You shouldn’t have listened, you knew that. You were raised better than to hover at doors and steal pieces of conversations that weren’t yours to hear, but your body didn’t listen to reason anymore.

Your feet stayed planted, your lungs forgot how to work as panic washed over you so fast and so violently that for a second you weren’t in Hawkins at all.

You were back in the Upside Down.

Back in that choking red sky, where  the air is thick and cold. You could feel all over again the vines slick and alive under your hands as you ran, heart tearing itself apart inside your chest. 

You could still feel the demobats, the weight of them, the wet snap of their wings, the sound of flesh ripping, the blood, so much blood, everywhere you looked there was bloodbloodbloodbloodblood—

—the combined screams of yours and Eddie’s. You remembered the way his body had gone still, the way Steve had dragged your bloodied body away as your entire abdomen was ripped apart, shaking so badly you couldn’t even scream.

You remember the way you’d thought you were going to die there with your throat ripped open and your bones scattered across that fucked-up place.

You hadn’t felt safe since.

Four months, five months? however long it had been, it didn’t matter. Fear had latched onto you like a parasite and refused to let go.

Everything startled you now, doors, clocks, cold air on your neck, cars backfiring, footsteps too close behind you. The world felt like a nightmare, and the night was only much worse.

Steve was the only place that didn’t feel like that.

Steve made it quiet. Steve made it stop.

You hadn’t even realized you’d started clinging until it was already done, until your body had decided he was shelter, that he was protection, that if he was near then nothing could touch you. 

And now you were standing outside a door, listening to him talk about you.

“I don’t know, Robin,” he says again, voice rough and worn down, like he’s been chewing on the same thought for weeks and it’s finally gone bloody. “She’s just… different. Ever since.”

Robin leans back against the counter, arms crossed, watching him carefully. “Yeah,” she says, slow and measured. “No shit. She went to literal hell, Steve.”

“I know that,” he snaps too fast, immediately regretting the edge in his voice. He exhales, drags a hand down his face. “I know. I do. That’s the problem. I know, and I still feel like shit about how I feel.”

She waits. Robin’s good at that. At letting him talk himself into the truth.

“It’s like,” he starts again, quieter but faster, words tumbling over each other now, “she’s everywhere. All the time. Wherever I go, she’s already there or tryin’ to be. If I grab my keys, suddenly she needs to leave too. If I’m sittin’ down, she’s sittin’ down. If I say I’m tired, she’s tired. It’s like she can’t exist unless I’m right next to her.”

Your stomach drops where you stand, frozen just outside the door, fingers clenched tight around the strap of your bag.

“I’m serious,” Steve keeps going, oblivious, frustration bleeding through every word. “If I’m goin’ to see Dustin, she’s got a reason to come. If I’m headin’ to the Squawk, somehow we’re paired up for drills again. She doesn’t do anything alone, Robin. Never. She’s just… latched onto me.”

He laughs humorless. “And I sound like a dick sayin’ it, I know I do, but it’s fuckin’ suffocating.”

Suffocating. Like he’s drowning because of you.

Robin doesn’t answer right away. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer, more careful. “Steve. That’s not weird, matter of fact it's a normal response given what she's been through. That’s her brain trying to keep her alive.”

“I know,” he says, rubbing at his neck like it physically hurts to admit it. “I know she’s not doing it on purpose.”

“She nearly died,” Robin presses. “She watched Eddie die right in front of her. She got dragged into the Upside Down and came back with scars all over her body. She wakes up screaming, Steve. You’re the only thing that makes her feel safe.”

“I didn’t say she was the bad guy,” he snaps, voice cracking despite himself. “I’m just sayin’ I’m overwhelmed. She’s so clingy, Robin. You saw her tonight. She didn’t wanna leave without me. I had to practically beg her to go first.”

Your vision blurs. You press a hand to your mouth, swallowing hard.

“It’s like I gotta make up excuses just to be alone,” he admits, quieter now, stripped bare. “I need space. I need to breathe. And I can’t say that without soundin’ like a heartless asshole because yeah, she’s traumatized, and then suddenly I’m the villain for wantin’ five goddamn minutes to myself.”

Robin scoffs, pushing off the counter. “Steve, you idiot. You said it yourself. Your girlfriend is traumatized.”

“Yeah,” he shoots back, voice rising, “but how the hell do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off without destroyin’ her. How do I say ‘hey, I love you, but you’re smotherin’ me,’ and not absolutely fuck her up more than she already is.”

“You don’t call her clingy,” Robin says immediately. “For starters. That word is banned and most girls, including Vickie, hate it.”

Steve lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Well, she is.”

Robin gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. “Oh nooo,” she mocks, voice high and obnoxious. “I’m Steve Harrington and my girlfriend loves me so much. Oh noooo, she feels safe with me. My life is helllll.”

“Shut up,” Steve mutters, shoving her shoulder.

“Oww, you asshole!” Robin shoots back, swatting him in return, then sobers as she gets all serious again. “You’re not wrong for being tired. You are wrong for talking about her like she’s a burden.”

Steve goes still. “I don’t think she’s a burden,” he says quietly, and this time it sounds like the truth. “I just… I don’t wanna be the only thing keepin’ her together. What happens if I fuck up? What happens if I leave?”

Robin sighs. “Then you talk to her. You communicate, dingus.”

You step back before they can see you, heart pounding, every word replaying in your head on a brutal loop. Suffocating. Clingy. Everywhere.

You don’t grab your coat when you leave.

You don’t even realize you’re driving until you’re already halfway home, knuckles white on the steering wheel as every memory crashes into you at once. Begging him to stay while you showered because you were convinced something would crawl out of the drain. Nights you woke up screaming, clinging to his shirt like it was the only safe place left in the world. Training days for the crawl where you stuck close, too afraid to be alone, grateful when you were paired with him again.

You could see it all, every single little thing you had leaned on him for, flashing through your mind like some god-awful horror slideshow.

Steve’s words had been like a bucket of ice water dumped on you, shocking you into clarity whether you wanted it or not. 

Maybe you had been too sensitive. Maybe you had been unbearable. Maybe you had been so clingy that it wasn’t fair for him, and maybe you needed to let go, at least a little. 

It wasn’t as if you had been the only one stuck in the Upside Down. Will had survived a week in that hell, seen things that should have ripped him apart, and yet he had come back and carried himself with a strength you couldn’t even muster. 

Dustin had lost Eddie too, but he hadn’t latched onto anyone, hadn’t made himself a burden. Eleven had been tortured, exploited, experimented on, broken in ways that should have left her crushed, and yet she still managed to find herself amidst everything, to stand and breathe and continue on. 

And here you were, the only one who seemed incapable of moving past it, of finding even a fragment of independence, still tethered to Steve as if without him you would fall apart.

Somehow, without realizing it, you had arrived at your shared home with Steve, parked your car in the driveway, and walked inside on autopilot, your body carrying you through familiar motions while your mind carried the full weight of guilt, shame, and heartbreak.

You stripped off your clothes in the bathroom, letting the water hit your skin in a rhythm you used to find comfort in, and prepared some dinner. You heated up leftovers, the smell of food filling the kitchen like it always had, but this time there was no laughter, no shared commentary on who had eaten what, no teasing Steve about his obsession with ketchup. 

By the time Steve arrived, the house was quiet. You were already in bed, tucked under the covers, something you hadn’t done alone in months because for months you hadn’t slept unless his arms were wrapped around you. 

But tonight, the house felt empty, and he found himself standing in the kitchen, fork in hand, staring at the warm meal you had prepared for him, and realizing that for the first time in an eternity, you weren’t waiting for him.

The next morning only deepened the silence. Steve woke to an empty bed, the sunlight spilling across rumpled sheets that smelled faintly of your perfume, and felt a prickling, cold panic he couldn’t name at first. 

You were already dressed, shoes on, ready to leave.

“Where are you heading?” he asked, voice rough.

“Going to get some stuff from the store,” you replied dryly.

“Want me to come with you, sweetheart?” His words carried that familiar gentleness, but you couldn’t look past it without feeling like a burden.

“No,” you said simply.

It was such a small, simple word. It shouldn’t feel like this. Except it made Steve sit in bed alone, blood running cold, realizing far too late that you were beginning to avoid him.

You leave early and don’t come back until the sky is already dimming, the house dark except for the kitchen light that Steve has turned on and off three times now like it might summon you home faster.

By the time you unlock the front door, he has been pacing a groove into the living room carpet, heart in his throat, mind running through every worst case scenario he promised himself he wouldn’t think about anymore. The second the lock clicks and the door opens, he’s there, crowding your space before you can even hang up your coat.

“Where the hell were you?!” he blurts, voice tight and frantic, eyes scanning you like he’s checking for blood. “You’ve been outta the house for nearly six hours. Six. I was losin’ my goddamn mind. I thought somethin’ happened to you.”

You sigh, slow and tired, and for a split second when you really look at him, at the pure unfiltered worry etched into his face, you almost break.

Almost step into his arms, almost let yourself melt into him and admit how badly you missed him, how those six hours felt like six days without his voice or his hands or the steady reassurance of his presence. 

If six hours did this to him, then the space you were forcing had been tearing you apart twice as badly.

But then your brain betrays you, replays his words in his voice, clingy, suffocating, always there, and you harden.

“I was out, Steve,” you say quietly.

“Yeah, no shit,” he fires back, following you as you walk toward the kitchen. “Out where?”

You open the fridge, more for something to do than because you’re hungry, and shrug. “With Nancy. We hung out and I accidentally lost track of time.”

The tension drains out of him immediately, shoulders sagging in relief. “Jesus,” he breathes. “Why didn’t you tell me, huh? I was freakin’ out. Is everything okay? Did somethin’ happen?”

You shake your head. “No, nothing happened, don’t worry.”

He nods quickly, like he’s trying not to push. “Okay. Okay. I won’t pry.” He hesitates, then softens. “Hey, I was thinkin’ dinner. You want lasagna or pizza?”

“I’m not hungry,” you say, already turning away. “I’m gonna go sleep, okay.”

He frowns. “But I thought we could just hang out a little, I mean we barely saw each other toda—”

“Maybe another time, alright? Goodnight, Steve.”

He exhales, defeated. “Goodnight,” he says softly. “I love you.”

You pause just long enough to whisper it back before disappearing down the hall. “I love you too,”

The days after are worse.

Steve wakes up and barely gets a word in before you’re already pulling on shoes, mumbling something about a jog. If he waits, you need a shower. If he waits longer, you’re late to see your nana. 

If he suggests the Squawk, you’re already going with Nancy. It’s like every time he reaches out, you slip through his fingers a little more, like trying to grasp smoke.

Not long ago, you haunted him with your presence. You were everywhere, constant, inescapable, but now you ghost him with your absence. He doesn’t know where you go or what you do, only that the house feels emptier even when you’re technically still there.

That’s how he ends up sitting on the edge of the bed tonight, waiting for the bathroom door to open, heart pounding like he’s bracing for bad news. When you finally step out, hair damp, towel slung over your shoulder, he looks up like he’s been holding his breath.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says gently, like he’s testing the word to see if it still belongs to him.

You glance at him in the mirror and give him a small, careful smile. “Hi, Steve.”

He lingers there for a second, then steps closer, hands hovering before he settles them lightly at your waist, afraid you might flinch. He leans down and presses a kiss to your collarbone. 

“I missed you,” he murmurs. “You’ve been out all day. Didn’t even see you at the Squawk.”

Your body betrays you before your mouth does, a shiver running through you at the sound of his voice, the warmth of him behind you. For a heartbeat you let yourself feel it, the pull, the ache. Then you pull away, just enough to break the contact, reaching for your hairbrush like it’s a shield.

“Yeah,” you say lightly. “Nancy asked me to go shopping with her again.”

“Oh.” He straightens, nodding, trying to keep his tone easy. “Was it fun? I figured you’d come back with, like, ten bags or somethin’.”

You shrug, brushing through damp hair. “Didn’t need anything.”

He watches you in the mirror, the way you won’t quite look at him, the way your answers land flat and stop short. He clears his throat as heshifts his weight.

He hesitates, then clears his throat, trying again, voice low and careful. “Uh. We trained today. Me, Hopper, and El. She shaved her time down again.”

You pause only briefly, tugging at your hair with the brush.

“Thirty-three seconds,” he continues, a little brighter despite himself. “Last week it was thirty-six. She’s pissed about it too, which I guess is good. Means she knows she can do better.”

“That’s good,” you say quietly.

He nods, even though you’re not looking at him. “Yeah. She’s gettin’ scary strong again. In a good way.”

“Mhm.”

Steve frowns. He leans back on his hands, searching your face even though you’re facing away now. “We could all hang out this weekend. Just us, or maybe the kids too. Whatever you want. Thought it might be nice.”

“I’m actually quite tired,” you say quietly.

“Okay,” he says quickly. “Yeah. That’s fine. We don’t have to do anything big.” He pauses, then softly asks. “Hey. Are you okay? Like, really okay?”

You swallow. “I’m fine, Steve.”

There’s a beat of silence where he clearly wants to say more as his mouth opens and closes like he’s rearranging words that never come out right. 

He tries again, desperate now. “Did I do somethin’? Because if I did, I swear I’m not tryin’ to mess this up. I just need you to talk to me, okay.”

Your chest tightens. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Steve,” you say softly, cutting him off before he can dig himself deeper, “can you turn off the light, please?”

He gets the hint; you don’t want to talk.

He freezes for a second, then nods once. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

He stands, reaches for the lamp, and the room falls into darkness. He lingers there for a moment longer, like he’s hoping you’ll turn back around, say his name, give him something to hold onto.

You don’t.

“Night,” he says quietly.

“Night,” you reply, barely audible.

He lies down beside you, careful not to touch, staring up at the ceiling with the awful, sinking realization that this is what losing you looks like..

As the days passed, then quietly turned into weeks, you built a new routine that did not include Steve in it at all. It happened slowly enough that it almost felt reasonable at first. 

You learned how to time your mornings so you were out the door before he woke up, learned how to come home late enough that conversation felt unnecessary, learned how to smile just enough to keep him from asking questions that you did not have the strength to answer.

Avoiding him became second nature. Lying became easy.

You spent most of your days outside, anywhere that was not the house and not around him. Sometimes you sat beside your nana’s hospital bed for hours, holding her hand and watching the rise and fall of her chest just to remind yourself that people stayed alive even when everything went wrong. 

Other days you walked until your legs ached, wandering neighborhoods you barely recognized, letting exhaustion drown out thought. Occasionally you called a friend, anyone who would answer, and let the hours blur together in cafes and parking lots and friendly conversations that never went anywhere deep enough to hurt.

It got to the point where you could not remember the last time you had kissed him without forcing yourself to think about it, and when you did, the number made your stomach twist. Four days. Four whole days since his mouth had been on yours, since his hands had found your waist without asking, since you had slept tangled together instead of inches apart. 

There was a time when five minutes apart felt unbearable, when you haunted each other in hallways and kitchens and doorways, hands always reaching, always searching.

You grew used to the distance. 

Steve though, did not.

His patience thinned in ways that showed. It did not help that things with Dustin were already strained. Steve started snapping again and retreating into old habits he thought he had outgrown. 

He tried to pull himself back every time he felt it happening, tried to reach for you like he always had.

And every time he did, you stepped further away.

That was how he found himself one late afternoon sitting on the couch, elbows braced on his knees, staring at the front door. 

You had been gone all day again, supposedly with Nancy, doing whatever it was you told him you were doing now. 

Steve knew you were close to her, knew you trusted her, but not to the point where you would spend hours every other day together. Still, he told himself not to judge. Girls were odd in their friendships, and he did not want to be the guy who questioned everything.

But his mind would not shut up.

Every instinct in him was screaming that something was wrong, that he needed to do something instead of sitting there waiting. He was snapped out of his thoughts when the doorbell rang.

Steve was on his feet instantly, relief and fear colliding in his chest as he rushed to the door. He yanked it open, already ready to say your name.

Instead, Nancy Wheeler stood there.

For a split second, his brain refused to process it. Then panic slammed into him so hard it stole the air from his lungs. If you were supposed to be with Nancy, then why is she standing here alone?

“Where is she?” he blurted out, voice sharp and scared. “Is she okay? What happened?”

Nancy blinked in shock at his reaction, taking in the way his shoulders were tight, the way his hands were already shaking like he’d been holding himself together by sheer force of will. “Whoa, Steve, hey,” she said quickly. “Slow down. What’s going on?”

“What,” he shot back, breath uneven, eyes already scanning the driveway behind her like you might suddenly appear. “Where’s she? Why are you here without her, Nancy?”

Nancy frowned. “Without who?”

“Y/N,” he snapped, panic bleeding into anger because fear always did that to him. “I’m talking about Y/N.”

Her expression shifted immediately. “Yeah,” she said slowly, “that’s actually why I’m here. I haven’t heard from her in weeks. I just wanted to check in.”

The words hit him like a punch straight to the chest.

“What do you mean you haven’t heard from her?” he said, quieter now, like saying it louder might make it real. “You were literally  together today?”

Nancy let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Steve, no. I’ve been with Jonathan all day. He’s waiting in the car right now. I just stopped by because I was worried about her.”

The color drained from his face so fast it scared her.

“Steve,” she said carefully, stepping closer, “you’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”

He swallowed hard, throat tight like it was closing in on itself. “She’s been telling me she’s with you,” he said. “Every time she’s gone. She says she’s with you.”

Nancy stared at him. “Why would she lie about that?”

“I don’t know,” he said, voice cracking despite how hard he tried to keep it together. “That’s the thing, Nance, I don’t know. One day she was everywhere. Everywhere. I couldn’t turn around without her being there, couldn’t breathe without feelin’ her next to me, and then suddenly it’s like she vanished. We didn’t fight. I–i didn't do anything. At least not that I remember.”

Nancy sighed, rubbing her forehead, her tone firm but not unkind. “Steve. You don’t just wake up one day like that. Something must've happened.”

“No, no, no” he said immediately, shaking his head. “No, I would know. I would remember if I fucked up that bad.”

“And you didn’t think to ask her?” Nancy pressed.

“I did,” he snapped. “I tried. Every time I tried she’d shut it down, say she was tired or busy or fine. What the hell was I supposed to do, corner her?”

“She was clingy, okay. I’ll say it. I couldn’t go anywhere without her, couldn’t get a second alone, and then suddenly it’s like she was gone.”

Nancy’s head snapped up. “Don’t,” she said sharply.

“What?” he shot back.

“You do not call her clingy, Steve!” Nancy said, anger flaring now. “You don’t get to use that word with Y/N out of all people!”

He bristled. “Oh come on, Nancy. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, you did,” she said. “And even if you didn’t, it doesn’t matter. In case you’ve forgotten, Harrington, we’re all wrapped up in this upside down bullshit because we have to be. I do it because of Mike and Barb. You do it because of Dustin. Guess what? She doesn’t have to be involved in it!”

Steve opened his mouth, then stopped.

“That girl is fucking traumatized, and she went through that shit because you dragged her into it!” Nancy continued, voice steady but fierce.

“She nearly died. She was attacked by monsters that shouldn’t exist. She watched Eddie die just like the rest of us, and she doesn’t get to talk about it with anyone outside this circle. She can’t go to her friends or her family and say, ‘hey, I got slimed by an interdimensional monster and almost got ripped apart.’ The only person she feels safe enough to lean on is you!”

His jaw tightened, guilt creeping in through the cracks.

“So yeah,” Nancy went on, “maybe she leaned too hard or she  didn’t know how to be alone after that. But that doesn’t make her clingy, Steve. That makes her scared.”

He dragged a hand down his face. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“I know,” Nancy said. “But intent doesn’t erase impact. Something you said or did made her feel like she was too much, like she was a burden, and instead of yelling or crying she did the only thing she could think to do. She disappeared.”

Steve let out a shaky breath. “She’s been lying to me, Nancy.”

“She’s protecting herself,” Nancy said. “You need to see things in her light”

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

“So what,” he said finally, voice raw. “What if she’s just… done? What if she realized she doesn’t need me?”

Nancy softened then, stepping closer. “Steve. She needs you. She just doesn’t think she’s allowed to anymore. And that’s on you to fix.”

He looked at her, eyes glassy. “How?”

“You talk to her,” Nancy said simply. “Really talk. Don't accuse her or get defensive. Listen to her.”

She glanced back toward the driveway. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and check on her too, okay? But you can’t let this sit. Whatever’s going on, it’s clearly eating both of you alive.”

Steve nodded faintly, chest aching. “Yeah.”

Nancy opened the door, then paused. “And Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“Snap out of it,” she said firmly. “Before you lose her for real.”

With that, she left, heading back toward Jonathan’s car, while Steve stood alone in the doorway.

Ironically, barely ten minutes after Nancy and Jonathan pulled out of the driveway, you came home.

The house was dark. Too dark.

Your stomach dropped immediately, panic flaring hot and fast as you stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. No lights. No TV. No noise.

For a split second, every worst-case scenario you’d trained yourself not to think about came crashing in all at once.

“Steve?” you called out, voice tight.

Footsteps shuffled, and then he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, lit only by the faint glow from the stove light.

“Hey,” he said, like nothing in the world was wrong.

You froze for half a beat. “Oh. Hi.”

There was something awkward in the air instantly, like you’d both stepped into the same room carrying entirely different weights. He leaned against the counter, trying to look casual.

“How was your day?” he asked.

You shrugged, slipping your shoes off. “It was… alright.”

His eyes drifted to the bag clutched in your hand, the crinkled plastic catching his attention. “What’s that?”

“Oh,” you said quickly, glancing down at it. “I stopped by the pharmacy to get the cream. For, uh… you know. The scarring.”

He nodded, softer now. “That’s good.”

Neither of you said anything else as you walked down the hall together. The bedroom felt smaller than usual as Steve sat on the edge of the bed while you set the bag down.

“Um,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you want me to help you apply it?”

You hesitated for a second. Then you nodded and handed him the bag.

He unsealed the ointment while you slipped your shirt off and sat cross-legged on the floor, your back to him. You were suddenly acutely aware of every scar—deep, jagged reminders carved across your back and abdomen from the demogorgon attack. Old wounds, but never really gone.

Steve didn’t react the way you always feared people might. He never did.

His hands were warm as he scooped some of the cream, spreading it carefully across your skin gently. He worked it into your shoulders, thumbs pressing lightly as he massaged your shoulders.

You let yourself breathe.

He kept going until he was done, smoothing the last of it in with quiet focus. As you started to shift, ready to stand and pull your shirt back on, you felt it—

Two soft kisses. One pressed over each long scar crossing your back.

Your heart kicked hard against your ribs.

You stood quickly, sliding your shirt back on, suddenly unsure what to do with all the space between you. You were halfway to the door when his voice stopped you.

“Uhm, Y/n.”

You turned. “Yeah?”

He reached out, fingers wrapping gently around your hand, and tugged you a step closer. “Can we talk?”

He keeps hold of your hand when you hesitate.

“Talk about what?” you ask quietly.

Steve doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat of him, the familiar gravity that’s always pulled you in whether you wanted it to or not. His hand tightens around yours like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he loosens his grip.

“I know I’ve been shitty,” he says again, like repeating it might finally make it land where it needs to. His voice is low and rough, scraped raw by guilt. “I know I’ve been so far away from you. I know you felt it. I saw it, even when I pretended I didn’t.” He swallows hard. 

“And I know you’re going through things—things I can’t even fully understand—and I hate that instead of being the person you could come to, the person who made it easier, I—”

He cuts himself off with a sharp breath, hand lifting to his face like he can physically stop the words from spilling.

Your chest tightens so painfully it almost steals your breath.

“I panicked,” he rushes on, panic bleeding straight through his words now. “I didn’t know how to handle it. Knowing someone was dependent on me, really dependent on me, not just for rides or babysitting or stupid shit like that, but emotionally.” His voice wavers. “I thought I was gonna screw it up. Thought I already was screwing it up. And instead of dealing with that like an adult, I freaked out.”

He laughs once, sharp and broken. “God, I thought I needed space. I thought if I pulled back, things would calm down, that we’d both breathe easier. But fuck—” His voice cracks hard on the word. “This is so much worse. You being gone is so much worse than you being everywhere. I’d give anything to have you hovering around me again, asking if I’m okay, touching my arm, sittin’ too close on the couch.”

He steps closer, hands shaking as they come up to your sides, not quite touching like he’s scared you’ll flinch away.

“Please,” he whispers, forehead nearly brushing yours now, eyes glossy and wrecked. “Please, sweetheart. Don’t stop being dependent on me. Don’t stop needing me. Don’t stop loving me.”

Your breath stutters, a broken sound caught somewhere between your chest and your throat.

“I need you to need me,” he says, the words spilling faster, desperate and unfiltered. “I didn’t realize it until you pulled away, but I do. I need it. I need you. Because I can’t do this anymore. I can’t wake up every day wondering if you’re okay and knowing it’s my fault you don’t tell me.” His voice drops to a whisper. 

“I can’t do this without you.”

That’s when you break.

The sob tears out of you violently, ripping through your chest like something finally gave way. Your knees nearly buckle as you fold into him, crying so hard your body shakes, hiccups jerking through each breath. 

Steve reacts instantly, arms wrapping around you tight, crushing you to his chest like if he lets go you’ll disappear for real this time.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, voice breaking completely now. “I’m so sorry. Fuck—fuck, baby, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

His hand moves up and down your back in slow, steady motions, grounding and familiar, his chin pressing into your hair. You cry into his shirt until it’s damp, until your throat burns and your lungs ache and you feel wrung out and hollow.

Eventually, trembling, you pull back just enough to look at him.

“I heard you, Steve,” you say, the words tripping over themselves.

He freezes. “You… heard what?”

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms like you deserve the sting. “A few weeks ago. At the station. I left early and forgot my coat.” Your voice wobbles badly now. “I came back, and I heard you.”

The color drains from his face so fast it scares you.

“You were talking to Robin,” you continue, tears spilling again. “You said I was clingy. You said I was suffocating you.”

“Oh—no,” he breathes, panic exploding across his features. “No, no, no, baby, please—”

“I didn’t mean to be,” you sob. “I swear I didn’t. I wasn’t trying to trap you or make you feel stuck. I just—” Your breath breaks, the words barely making it out. “I only felt safe with you. And everyone else was doing okay. Everyone. And I wasn’t. I was falling apart and I didn’t know how to be alone with that.”

You swallow hard, voice dropping to something small and raw. “And somewhere along the way, it started to feel like you weren’t loving me anymore.”

Your eyes lift to his, shining. “It felt like you were just… tolerating it. Tolerating me.”

Steve’s hands come up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing your tears away like each one physically hurts him.

“Baby,” he says fiercely, voice shaking as his arms tighten around you. “You can cling to me as tight as you want and as long as you want. I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to pull away to protect me.”

His voice drops, thick and aching, the words pressed straight into your hair. “I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much it scares me, and instead of owning that, I ran my mouth and said somethin’ stupid and careless. And I hate that it hurt you. I hate that I made you feel like you were too much when all you ever were was… you.”

He presses his forehead to yours, breath shaky. “You were never suffocating me. I was just scared of how much I needed you back.”

You search his face, eyes swollen, chest still hitching with quiet aftershocks of sobs. He looks wrecked and earnest and painfully open, like every wall he’s ever built has finally come down.

“It’s okay, Steve,” you whisper, even though the words wobble on the way out, even though they don’t quite feel solid yet.

He shakes his head immediately, curls bouncing with the movement. “It’s not. It’s really not.” His hands slide up your back, holding you close. “But we’re gonna fix it, okay? I will fix it. I promise. I don’t care how long it takes.”

His forehead presses against yours again, like he’s grounding himself. “Just… don’t pull away from me ever again.”

You nod, slow but sure, arms wrapping around him fully now as you bury your face into his chest. He holds you like he means it this time, rocking you gently, big hands warm and steady like they’re reminding you that he’s real, that he’s here.

You breathe him in.

And then—

Grrrgrgrgrgrgr.

You freeze for half a second.

Then you pull back just enough to look up at him, eyes still wet, face scrunched, and you burst out laughing—broken, hiccupy laughter that comes out of you mid-cry.

“Are you—” you sniff, laughing harder, “—are you hungry?”

Steve’s face goes bright red.

“I—” he stammers, mortified. “I was gonna wait for you to come back, okay? I didn’t wanna eat without you.”

That just makes you laugh more. You press your face back into his chest, shoulders shaking, and he lets out a breathy laugh too, embarrassed but relieved, his arms tightening around you again.

“God,” he mutters. “Timing, huh.”

You tilt your head up and kiss him. He kisses you back immediately, like he’s been starving for it just as much as food. When you pull away, barely an inch, he leans in again and kisses you harder this time and deeper, pouring everything unsaid into it.

He breaks the kiss with a breathless laugh, forehead resting against yours. “Missed kissing you.”

You smile. “Me too.”

He exhales, then straightens suddenly like he’s had an epiphany. “You know what?”

“What?” you ask.

“I am starving,” he says, dead serious. “And I’m pretty sure you are too.”

You blink. “Steve—”

“Come on,” he says, already grabbing your hand and tugging you gently toward the door. “Grab a coat.”

“Wait,” you laugh, stumbling after him. “Where are we even going?”

He grins over his shoulder, that familiar boyish smile you fell in love with. “Enzo’s.”

Your eyes widen. “What? No, Steve, that place is expensive. And you need a reservation and— I can just heat something up, it’s fine—”

“Nope,” he cuts in immediately. “Absolutely not.”

“Steve—”

“I gotta spend the next year or so making it up to you,” he says, squeezing your hand. “Minimum.”

You gape at him. “But—”

“Too late,” he says cheerfully, already opening the door.

You stumble as he leads you out to the car, the night air cool against your skin. He opens your door for you like always, and excitedly smiles at you. As the engine starts and the house disappears in the rearview mirror, you lean back in your seat, heart full and sore and warm all at once.

Deep down, you know it again: Steve will stay by your side. He’ll wait while you heal. He’ll hold you steady until you’re strong enough to take steps on your own.

And Steve knows, wholeheartedly, that he’ll be the one clinging to you just as tightly. Because you’re the only one he’s ever loved enough to spill his heart to.