For fox sake

Steve had never imagined himself having to live with a roommate, especially a woman that wasn’t his significant other, but coaching and teaching sex-ed to a bunch of middle schoolers didn’t pay shit, and he couldn’t stand living with his parents anymore. So when one of the few people besides him out of the rag-tag group of people he called friends that had stayed in Hawkins mentions something about getting a place together he figures– why not? 

He’d known you for years, had experienced too many near death experiences with you, and he also knew you were looking for any excuse to get out of the damn near slum of an apartment you were living in then. So, on a bright sunny Saturday morning in April the two of you sign the lease for what has now been your home for a little over a year. 

Living with each other was a lot easier than either of you thought it was going to be. Shared chore lists, weekly movie nights, eating dinner together, learning each other’s little quirks– it was all very domestic.

So domestic that sometimes your lines of reality and fantasy blurred and sometimes you’d have to remind yourself that Steve was not your boyfriend and just your best friend. Which usually happened a couple times a month when he’d casually mention that he had a date and so you’d be the good roommate you are and let him have his alone time and then the following week you’d just so happen to have a date also. 

Which is how you’ve ended up with Eric breathing heavily into your ear as he pounds into you with such a hurry that you think maybe he wants this to be over with faster than you do. Your bedframe repeatedly hits the wall as you count the ceiling tiles above you and it’s not until you hear him groan something along the lines of i’m cumming that you let out a fake gasp and then he’s rolling off of you without as much as a second glance. 

He says he’ll call you tomorrow. 

You know he more than likely won’t and that’s more than fine with you. 

Steve strolls through the door near midnight, figuring thats plenty enough time for you two to do whatever, and for the guy to leave without there being any awkward introductions. Thankfully he’s right and he’s greeted with you sitting on the couch, freshly showered and in your pajamas, with what he can only assume is your leftovers from dinner in your lap. 

He plops down onto the couch beside you with a sigh and you immediately shove the styrofoam container of lasagna towards him. “Want some? It’s from Enzo’s.” 

“Enzo’s?” Steve questions, eyebrows raised in surprise. “He must have really wanted to impress you,” he states, grabbing the fork and shoving a piece in his mouth without a second thought. “Did it work?” 

“No,” you reply, taking the fork back from him and splitting what’s left down the middle for the two of you to share. “Should have ended the date after dinner was over.” 

Steve doesn’t say anything, but he knows what you’re alluding to, and he just nods understandingly at you as he takes his turn with the fork. The two of you didn’t necessarily talk about your sex lives, it was implied when either of you had mentioned going on a date and that you needed the apartment to yourself, but neither of you sat here and talked in detail about the latest orgasm you’d had, but if Steve had any inkling, he was pretty sure the guys you brought home weren’t giving you any. 

The thing about your unspoken agreement with Steve about dates and bringing people home was that it wasn’t fool proof. Sometimes the two of you would go out without any expectations of bringing someone home. Then one thing leads to another and suddenly there’s someone trailing in behind either of you and the sound of a bedroom door slamming. It didn’t happen often enough to where it would be an issue, but it happened enough that Steve, while he wasn’t trying to be a creep, was being observant and had seemed to notice the lack of noise from you. 

He’d quickly put on music when he’d hear the sound of your drunken giggles echoing down the hall and then a much deeper voice accompanying yours, but the times when you come home long after he’d gone to bed and you end up waking him up with your loud footsteps and hushes to the mystery man– those times he shamelessly listens.

It seems to be the same variation of sounds and actions every time– the guy trying to be all suave with you, your headboard hitting the wall in rapid succession for a short amount of time, some curses from the guy, and then the sound of the front door slamming shut. Not a single peep out of you the whole time and at first Steve thinks you’re just being considerate, that you’d made the decision to bring someone home while he was here so you’re just being extra quiet, but he also knows that sometimes no matter how hard you try, staying quiet during sex is sometimes impossible.

He figures you’re bound to slip up after a while and he’ll hear a moan or a little dirty talk bleed through the walls, but it never does, except for that one guy you brought home that would not stop with the dirty talk and kept asking you who’s pussy this was. Needless to say Steve ended up putting on music that night. 

And not to toot his own horn, but he knew what it sounded like when a woman was experiencing pleasure, and from what he could tell those guys weren’t getting you off. While he can’t account for the times he isn’t in the apartment, he can tell from your demeanor when he comes home that those times aren’t particularly stellar either. 

Your less than blissed out state as you sit next to him on the couch, sharing your leftover lasagna with him, it proves his point. 

But Steve doesn’t say anything about your lack of post sex glow and how these guys should make it their priority to make you feel good. He doesn’t want to overstep, doesn’t want to cross any lines and potentially make things weird between the two of you, even if he’s a little more concerned with how other guys are treating you in bed than he should be. 

Instead he takes the last bite of his portion of the lasagna and extends an olive branch, an out if you ever needed it, because again he cares about you more than he should. 

“You know if you’re on a date and he’s weird or making you uncomfortable or even if you just want to come home– you can call me. No questions asked, I'll come get you. I’m almost always at Eddie’s or at Slinky’s having a beer.” 

You give him a soft smile, trying to ignore the way his words make your heart do a traitorous thing, like the idea of him being willing to drive across town to come and take you home doesn’t make whatever you feel towards him that much more complicated. 

“Thanks Steve,” you reply, eyes focused on the little bit of lasagna left instead of him. 

“Of course,” he responds, slowly standing up from the couch. “Think I’m gonna go to bed,” his eyes traipse over you, waiting for you to look up at him, and when you finally do he smiles in that endearing way that makes your chest ache. “Goodnight.” 

“Night.” 

You hear his bedroom door close and you’re left sitting on the couch with the now empty takeout container in your lap wondering how much longer you can go on with this act. How much longer can you continue to bring home these guys that don’t know your clit from your nipple and act like the man you actually want isn’t thirty feet away. 

You always get in your head like this afterwards, especially when Steve comes home and you’re absolutely buzzing on the inside with want, but the one thing you want– you can’t have. 

The couch creaks under you as you get up and make the decision to leave the takeout container on the coffee table, claiming you’ll take care of it in the morning. As you pad down the hall and past Steve’s room you hear his muffled voice behind his door and you’re not meaning to eavesdrop, but the sickeningly sweet tone that bleeds out under the door has you frozen in place. 

“Yeah, yeah– I know it’s late and I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t get you out of my mind.” 

“Your number was burning a hole in my pocket from the moment you gave it to me tonight. I couldn't wait to hear your voice again.” 

“I had a really good time tonight and I’d like to see you again if you’re up for it?” 

“Yeah? Great. How about dinner next Friday?” 

“Can’t wait. I’ll call you later with the details.” 

That all too familiar sinking sensation settles deep in your gut and before Steve can figure out you were listening you dart across the hall and into your room. The door slams shut behind you with no regard for the pictures on your wall and before you know it you’re burying your face into your pillow. He’d met someone while he was out tonight and you know you have absolutely no room to talk, no leg to stand on when it came to however you were feeling, you’d been on a date tonight, brought a guy home and had sex, if you could call it that. 

Steve was allowed to do whatever he wanted to, and you knew that, it’s just that you don’t think you can handle another failed date on your end to fill that ache in your heart. 

The next morning you take the initiative to call Eric before he doesn’t and the second date is set for Saturday. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A couple weeks later you manage to score a day off during the week, which meant you had the apartment to yourself.

Steve had thought it was weird how eager you were to send him off to work this morning, in fact majority of the time when you manage to get a day off during the week you’re begging him to play hooky and spend the day with you, but this morning you were nearly pushing him out the door.

He tried not to think too much of it, maybe you just wanted some alone time, or maybe you were inviting Eric over. He had spent the night the last time you went out, which Steve thought was strange, considering you never let guys sleep over, but the mid breakfast meeting between the two men had been interesting to say the least. 

As you walked into the kitchen that morning you found Steve sitting at the little table eating his food with your plate across from him– eggs made just how you like, orange juice in your favorite cup, and toast still hot to the touch. It wasn’t an unusual sight by any means, but what was unusual was you having company in the morning. So he doesn’t even think to make sure you’re alone when he hears you enter the kitchen, eyes not even looking up from his plate, before he blurts out – was he any better this time?

Eric awkwardly clears his throat from behind you and Steve looks up wide-eyed and slightly embarrassed. Before Steve can even begin to spit out an apology Eric mumbles I should get going and it’s an awkward thirty seconds as he gathers his jacket from your room and walks out the front door, because you don’t even try to get him to stay and Steve continues eating his eggs, now content with the departure of the man from your shared apartment. 

Steve figured after that debacle there was no way Eric would be back around, but if he knew Steve wasn’t going to be there today, well there was a chance, and it bothers Steve more than he’d like to admit. Either way though, Steve was going to find out what was going on back at home, because by the time second period rolled around he realized he’d forgotten his change of clothes for baseball practice tonight. There was no way he was going to be out there on that field in slacks and tie, especially when in true Indiana fashion, summer had arrived early and it was sweltering already in May. He’d just run home on his lunch break and grab some clothes and be right back– no big deal. 

He’d even called you before he left to give you a heads up that he was coming home soon, but there was no answer, and so he thinks that maybe his little spiral over Eric potentially being there was for nothing and you probably were out shopping. 

When his pickup truck pulls into his unofficially assigned parking spot at home and your black sedan is in its usual spot next to his– his mind conjures up a million different reasons as to why you hadn’t answered the phone earlier. None of them are good and frankly majority of them involve Eric and he chooses to ignore the alarms going off in his head about how he shouldn’t care this much about you fucking another guy. 

His eyes do a quick sweep of the parking lot, he doesn’t know what Eric drives, so he really doesn’t even know what he’s looking for, but Steve feels like he has crazy intuition and he’s expecting the vehicle to glow like a fucking beacon the second his eyes land on it. 

The search is of course futile. 

His wristwatch lets him know he only has twenty minutes left until he needs to be back at the school and with the hope of not walking through the front door to find Eric balls deep in you– Steve reluctantly gets out of the truck and walks towards apartment 4B. 

For the first time ever in his life– Steve knocks on his own front door. Not because he’s forgotten his key, but because he’s afraid of what might be going down on the other side of this couple inches of wood.. He gives it a minute and when there’s no response or the sound of two people scrambling to get dressed, he shoves his key in the lock and slowly opens the door. 

The living room comes into view as the door fully swings open and to Steve’s surprise it’s exactly as he remembers it when he left this morning– your favorite blanket draped over the back of the couch, his glasses that he claims he doesn’t need on the coffee table, and some of the various VHS tapes that Steve had nabbed back from his Family Video days in a pile on the side table. 

The apartment is eerily quiet save for the hum of the refrigerator and Steve comes to the conclusion that one of your friends has come and picked you up, because when you’re home it’s obvious. There’s always music playing or the TV is loudly playing some show you aren’t even watching– your presence is always known and right now all that lingers is reminders of you. 

He doesn’t think much more of it as he wanders down the hall and towards his room, but the sound that bounces off your four walls and through your door has Steve stunned and his feet cemented to the floor. 

“Oh my god!” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

From the moment you woke up this morning you’d been buzzing with anticipation, finally having the apartment to yourself in god knows how long, the new toy you’d picked up the other day burning a hole in your bedside drawer, and the fact that you haven’t had a good orgasm in ages– it had you wound tighter than a drum. 

It didn’t help that you’d slightly been edging yourself all morning, refusing to touch yourself, but constantly thinking about how good it was going to feel once you did. You could have jumped right into your bed and shoved your hand down your pants as soon as Steve left this morning, but this was more fun, and you knew the payoff for waiting would be worth it. 

It’s not until you find yourself squeezing your thighs together as you fold laundry that you finally cave. 

You grab your new vibrator from the drawer and get comfy on your bed as your heart nearly beats out of your chest from how worked up you are without even touching yourself yet. You’re still in your pajamas, a big t-shirt and shorts, but you keep them on to tease yourself just a little longer. The feeling of your fingertips tracing antagonizingly slow circles around your nipples through your thin t-shirt has a steady warmth spreading through your body and the ache between your plush thighs that much stronger. 

While your left hand still gives your nipples the attention they so desperately crave, your right travels down past your navel and in between your thighs. Your sleep shorts are thin and perhaps you hadn’t put any underwear on last night when you went to bed and maybe the ragged seam had been rubbing up against your clit all morning and maybe you did it on purpose so that when you finally caved just the slightest touch to yourself would have you gasping. 

Which is exactly what happens when your index and middle finger press down against your clothed core and the seam of your shorts rubs against that sensitive bundle of nerves. It feels so good and god you want nothing more than to just go crazy and bring yourself over the edge, but you’ve been so patient, and you’ve got all day to play with yourself. 

So why ruin the fun so prematurely? 

You start slow, the pads of your fingers rubbing small circles over the fabric while your other hand, that is now slipped under your shirt, pinches and gently tugs at your nipples, the both of them working in tandem. The warmth that radiates through you is intoxicating and it doesn’t shock you to feel the cotton of your shorts dampening in record time. You’d been working yourself up all morning and when your hand finally trails under the waistband of your shorts it’s a little obscene just how wet you are. 

Your shorts quickly get discarded, haphazardly thrown onto your floor, and then your shirt gets bunched up just enough to expose your tits to the cool air. The anticipation is burning through you like a wildfire and the only way to smother it is to make yourself come. 

Which is something you planned on doing– multiple times. 

Soft moans slip past your lips as your fingers rub tight little circles on your clit and as your eyes flutter closed your mind wanders to the one thing that you know will only amplify your pleasure.

Steve. 

You’d imagined one too many times, what it would be like to be the girl moaning underneath him, how it would feel to have his big warm hands caressing your body, to have him showering you in compliments and praises. 

Your fingers trail through your folds and down to your sopping wet cunt, circling the sensitive skin around your entrance with such a slow tortuous pace that it tears a whimper from you, hips bucking forward for something more. You know your fingers aren’t going to give you what you need, but you sink your index and middle finger in anyways, searching for that pleasure that you’ve never been able to give yourself. 

If only you had Steve’s long and thick fingers inside you right now, he’d surely have you grabbing at the sheets as he curled them just right, reaching that spot inside you that had you seeing stars. It wasn’t like you had much experience when it came to getting pleasure from your g-spot, considering the only person to ever find it was the girl you hooked up with last October, but you had confidence that Steve would have no issue. 

Just the idea of Steve pumping his fingers inside your tight cunt, stretching you out as he adds a third, it has you mewling. The squelching sounds of your own fingers pistoning into you fills the room and you could only imagine the dirty comment Steve would make about it. You knew he had a way with his words in the bedroom, you’d shamelessly listen through the walls on those nights when he’d bring home a girl on a whim, and you’d stored away those words for times like these. 

God, you’re so wet for me, aren’t you pretty girl?

You’re soaking my cock baby. 

Gonna make a mess all over my sheets aren’t you? 

But even with Steve’s dirty talk echoing around in your head, your fingers of course aren’t enough to bring you over the edge, and you’re hurriedly reaching for your vibrator, slick fingers fumbling with the button before it comes to life in your palm. 

The second you press it to your swollen clit it seems as if electricity shoots through you, pleasure coursing through every vein in your body, and you’ve never been more thankful to be home alone as you lose all composure. 

“Oh my god!” 

Your eyes are screwed shut, head thrown back against your pillow, and the prettiest sounds continue to slip past your lips as you increase the intensity level on the toy. 

It doesn’t take long at all for that all too familiar feeling to creep up on you, for the warmth that’s started low in your belly to spread throughout your body. When you take your vibrator off your clit and slowly trail it up your body all the way to your nipples and circle each of them with it you swear you lose all ability to breath for a second. 

Your chest heaves as you trail it back down your body and back to the sensitive pearl between your spread legs, increasing the intensity once again, which makes your chest heave even more. You’re teetering on the edge, the coil in your tummy on the verge of snapping, and all you can think about is Steve. 

How it sounded when he’d brought home Amanda a couple weeks ago– which is what had caused Eric to happen– how she’d moaned out his name laced with such pleasure that it made you squeeze your thighs together while you laid in bed. How she’d told him don’t stop and how she unapologetically let everyone know how good she was feeling. There was clearly no need for her to fake it. 

God you wanted to know what it was like to be pleased like that, to be taken care of in such a way by someone else that it had you practically incoherent. 

The bad thing was, you wanted that someone to be Steve, who was unfortunately your roommate and best friend. So, having unholy thoughts about him while you masturbated was just going to have to suffice. 

You click the intensity button once again and that is what finally brings you over the edge and turns you into a babbling mess, legs trembling, free hand clutching so tightly onto the sheets that your fingers cramp. 

“Oh my fucking god. Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you holler, pressing the toy harder against your clit as you ride out your orgasm, wishing it was Steve giving you it instead of this vibrator. “Please don’t stop, please, please.” 

Something mixed with greed and insanity takes over you and you press the intensity button again causing your leg to twitch and your hips to buck upwards, all while the vibrator is still glued to your clit. Your second orgasm crashes in fast, riding on the coattails of your first one, and it hits hard. 

“Oh fuck. Oh my god. Please Ste-”

You bite down on your fist, eyes rolling to the back of your head, all while muffled sobs fill your room. The vibrator gets tossed somewhere, on your bed or floor you aren’t sure, but your legs collapse out from under you and you lay flat on your bed, ears ringing with aftershocks coursing through you. 

On the other side of the door Steve is beside himself, his cheeks are flushed, and the semi he’s sporting is damn near a full erection at this point. He knew he should have swiftly turned around and left the second he realized what was happening, but he couldn’t, not when he’s imagined what you sounded like for some time now. What it sounded like when you were experiencing pleasure, what it sounded like when you came, and what it sounded like when you said his name. 

Alright so maybe he was getting ahead of himself, but Steve swears it sounded like you were about ready to moan his name, and you very well may have been getting ready to stay stop again, but he shamelessly hopes it was his name, because then he wouldn’t feel as dirty knowing you think about him when you touch yourself just like he does with you. 

God, you sounded so pretty though, and Steve can’t believe that those sounds came out of you. The girl who he wouldn’t even know was having sex unless he heard your headboard and the sound of the guy or you in a nonchalant way mentioning that the sex with whoever was shit. 

His heart is nearly beating out of his chest and his dick is achingly hard as he hears you coming down from what he could tell was two back to back orgasms. The way he can still hear little whimpers coming from you as you probably lay there spent, your inner thighs slick with your arousal, nipples still so sensitive and sore from you tugging on them. 

There were a million dirty thoughts swirling around in his head and he should feel ashamed, should feel like a creep for what he’s thinking, what he listened in on, but he doesn’t. He hasn’t for a long time when it came to you and he isn’t sure how he’s supposed to feel about that either. 

Steve’s startled out of his horny moral dilemma by the sound of your bed creaking and before he can get caught he’s swiftly darting into his room, grabbing what might be a dirty cut off t-shirt and shorts, and tip-toeing back down the hall and out the door. 

As soon as the driver’s side door of Steve’s truck slams shut (which is the only way to guarantee it’s actually shut after Dustin fucked around with it by swinging on it like he was five and now it’s never been the same since) he let’s out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in as his hands grip the steering wheel with such vigor that his knuckles are stark white. 

He quickly adjusts himself in his slacks, tucking his erection into the waistband of his boxers, and tries to think of anything other than the sound of your pretty little whimpers. His head smacks against the headrest as his cheeks puff up, blowing out yet another deep breath combined with an explicit of some sort. 

Steve takes one last look at the apartment, shoves the key in the ignition, and backs out of his parking space like his whole world hasn’t just flipped upside down. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s nearing seven-thirty by the time Steve trudges in through the front door in his cut off tee and shorts, sweaty and hot, and still thinking about what took place in this said apartment hours earlier. The remainder of the school day had been a slow type of torture he’d not wish upon his worst enemy and then he had to go coach baseball in the sweltering sun like his whole body wasn’t already on fire. 

You had occupied every square inch on his brain since he left the apartment earlier and at times it wasn’t even anything inherently sexual– it was just you. How he loved coming home everyday to you, how you knew what was wrong with him before he did sometimes, how you deserved to be with someone that could take care of you in a multitude of ways. 

And the sight that greets him as he enters your shared home does nothing to eradicate the overwhelming infiltration of you in his mind. You’re standing at the stove, comfy clothes already on, humming along to whatever Fleetwood Mac song is playing on the radio, and the unmistakable smell of his favorite meal wafts towards him. 

You turn around and the sight of Steve standing there startles you, causing you to jump slightly, then let out the prettiest laugh he thinks he’s ever heard, and it makes Steve’s heart do a traitorous thing.

He figured he’d make it all awkward seeing you for the first time after hearing and listening to what you were doing earlier, but it wasn’t the least bit awkward. It was like any other evening, except you were glowing more than usual, smiling at him like he’d personally given you those orgasms earlier and god as unhinged as it sounded he could only imagine what you looked like directly after sex. 

Which now has his dick doing a traitorous thing instead of his heart. 

“Hard practice?” you ask, eyeing how his biceps glisten with sweat and how he’s got his baseball cap on backwards to keep his hair out of his face. 

“Yeah, hot as hell out there today,” Steve replies, trying not to notice how you don’t have a bra on, how the window AC unit that you insist on running on full blast has your nipples poking through the thin cotton. 

“Well,” you start, before turning back to the stove to stir the boiling spaghetti noodles. “You’re in luck because dinner is almost ready and I’ve made your favorite. Should be done in a few, the chicken is broiling in the oven. I’m trying to get the cheese a little crispy just how you like.” 

“I’m gonna go take a shower real quick then.” 

You nod, not bothering to turn back to face him as you stir the sauce. “Alright, I’ll holler when it’s done.” 

Steve hurries down the hall towards the bathroom and quickly strips out of his sweaty practice clothes, making sure to put them in the hamper because he’s not a slob, and then gets in the shower before he loses his mind.

The cold water does nothing to smother the fire that’s ignited low in his gut and he can’t believe you making him god damn chicken parmesan has got his dick hard again. 

He really is a simple guy and the domesticality of it all does more for him than he’d like to admit. 

Steve knows he’s got to do something about his not so little problem and so he lets his mind focus solely on you as he wraps his hand around his aching cock. His fingers gently squeeze around his shaft and on the first upstroke his hips embarrassingly buck into his fist with no control as his head tips back against the shower wall. 

He fucks his fist with no abandon and when his thumb glides over his throbbing tip a broken moan slips out of him, bouncing off the tile and hopefully not out to the kitchen. His head is swarming with you and all he can think about is how pretty you sounded earlier, how he’d never expected you to be so loud, and it only makes him want to see how much louder you can get. 

He thinks about how he’d love nothing more than to thank you for making him his favorite dinner later by going down on you. To thank you for taking such good care of him, because you do without even realizing it, and as much as Steve is a provider, the kind of person that takes care of others because it’s who he is. Sometimes he needs to be taken care of too, and you do it so well that Steve doesn’t even realize he’s being taken care of, and to him that deserves a mind blowing orgasm or two. 

His chest heaves and he has to brace himself against the wall with his other hand as he continues to stroke himself, imagining it was your soft hands wrapped around him right now, and not his callused ones. 

You consume him entirely and he finds himself having to bite down on the bicep of his extended arm to muffle the moans and whimpers that want to come alive and live within the four walls of this tiny bathroom. 

He’s close, he can feel that sweet release sneaking up on him fast, and with one last stroke Steve comes so hard that he nearly draws blood from how hard he’s biting down on his arm, your name and profanities muffled against the tanned muscle. He paints the shower wall with his cum, stroking himself to damn near overstimulation, until he finally slumps against the wall behind him.

Exhaustion creeps in fast and he’s still trying to catch his breath when he hears a knock on the door. 

“Steve! Hurry up! Dinner is getting cold.” 

He swallows hard, heart nearly leaping out of his chest at the idea of you listening in on him like he had you, but he can’t let his mind go any further than that, can’t let you wait any longer. So, he rinses his cum off the tile wall and quickly finishes his shower. 

When he joins you a few minutes later at the tiny table in the kitchen, his hair still dripping wet onto the old Hawkins High Phys Ed shirt he threw on, and you immediately tease him about having to reheat his own food, but then grab the plate anyways and toss it into the microwave for thirty seconds. 

There was a time your designated spot was shoulder to shoulder, fingers intertwined, with Steve and now you stand on complete opposite sides of the room without a single second or eye contact – it almost felt like a piece of you had be taken away.

Actually, that’s how you felt ever since the breakup.

Your relationship with Steve came almost suddenly. You were in the same grade, you practically grew up together, but never actually interacted in school. Until senior year and he broke up with Nancy and the kid you babysat ran to you for help after his new pet alien ate his cat.

A strange friendship formed between you, Dustin and Steve but it was something real. Even when the younger kid wasn’t around, you and Steve became glued to each other. Where he went, you followed and when you moved, he moved.

What started as platonic quickly morphed into romantic.

He’d changed so much from the popular boy in high school and became someone softer. He still had that same charm and personality, but he tried to let go of all the superficial things he used to cling to.

A part of you felt like maybe he’d never get over Nancy but after those months together, everything else except you and him disappeared. The two of you were together for eight months before you both started working at Scoops and then you were thrown into a whirlwind of more aliens and evil Russian soldiers.

Fighting off Demodogs with Steve at the junkyard and in the tunnels was scary enough – more scary than either of you would actually admit – but watching Steve get nearly beaten half to death and taking a few blows of your own? That was different.

You still had a scar across your cheekbone from the back of a guard’s gun after you mouthed off one too many times.

What should’ve been a time when the two of you really leaned on each other, almost like a trauma bond, Steve vanished. It was small at first – he would cancel on plans, he started calling less and less, he’d give you vague excuses for his sudden absence. You could feel it in your bones, the way he was slowly pulling away.

At first, you thought maybe he was just having a tough time moving past things. After all, he’d gotten the brunt of the soldiers anger and he had the bruises to prove it. But it wasn’t just temporary space he wanted and two weeks after the Battle of Starcourt, Steve broke up with you. Over the phone.

Devastated couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt. You tried to reason with him, even begged him not to do it, but he was firm. He insisted you two weren’t right for each other and there was ‘no point in prolonging the inevitable.’ He was clear in what he didn’t say – he didn’t love you anymore and honestly, you weren’t sure he ever did.

Almost a year had passed since the breakup and Steve has made sure to stay no contact. The only time you’ve ever spoke after was when he returned your things from his house and asked for his own. The only thing you were left with was the heart shaped locket he gifted you for your birthday a few months after dating. 

Even though it tore you apart, you respected his decision and didn’t try to push him. You kept your distance from him but in turn, that meant distance from everyone.

Until a few days ago.

Max and Dustin showed up on your doorstep, scared and out of breath – rushing to beg for help about Eddie Munson and the newly deceased Chrissy Cunningham. There wasn’t a chance you could say no.

So you drove them to Family Video and for the first time in months, you were around Steve again. At the sight of him for the first time in months, your fingers clutched the locket still around your neck for some sort of comfort. But even in the same room, he wouldn’t look at you. He hardly acknowledged your presence. It cracked your already broken heart even more.

You guys have spent the last couple of days tracking Eddie down and then listening to his recount of Chrissy’s death. Your stomach turns at the confirmation that it wasn’t a regular run of the mill murder and instead, you’re all now sucked back into monsters and chaos.

Things began to feel really scary when Nancy’s assistant turned up dead in the same manner. Not only were you faced with some inter-dimensional psycho, but also had to deal with what looked like Steve having feelings for Nancy. You didn’t miss the way he tried to follow her on her lead or the disappointment he felt when Robin took his place instead. The locket around your neck felt like a weight around you instead of providing comfort.

Everything worsened when Max connected the dots between the latest victims and confessed she’s been dealing with her own symptoms. The already high stakes raised even higher at the risk of Max being in danger.

Now, the entire group gathers around the living room of the abandoned Creel home as everyone begins to split off into groups.

You’re standing off to the far side of the room. It feels weird being back here – everyone seems to have their own reason for being here. Nancy wants to find justice for her assistant, Dustin wants to clear Eddie’s name, Max needs to survive and Lucas is hellbent on making sure that happens, and Steve and Robin are here to protect their friends. You feel like the odd one out.  

Maybe it’s not the time to be worrying about that – it definitely isn’t – but the small reminders that you’re not really apart of the group stings.

Max and Lucas pair off together, Steve and Dustin together in the opposite direction and Nancy pulls Robin along with her. As scary as the run down house seems to be, trying to sneak into one of the pairs scares you more – so you go off alone without a hitch.

You do your best to inspect the house and every room you come across but it’s hard when you’re not even sure what you’re supposed to be looking for. You continue through the house for a few minutes until you make it upstairs. When your round the corner, you still.

Because a few feet in front of you, Steve and Nancy stand extremely close. They face each other, eyes locked and gentle smiles along their faces. You can’t hear exactly what they’re saying but Steve looks peaceful. Happy.

It makes your heart bleed and instinctively, your hand reaches for your heart locket again. You recognize that look in his eye, it’s the same way he used to look at you but hasn’t in so long. Seeing them like this feels like torture but you can’t seem to look away. And more than that, it feels like an extra confirmation that Steve broke off the relationship because he didn’t feel the same way anymore.

You’d heard the whispers and the rumors about how he never really got over her and maybe this just proves it.

Your silent pity party halts to an end when Robin makes her way up the stairs and easily slides into the conversation. Steve and Nancy share a look of exasperation and she gives his arm a gentle squeeze before walking away. It’s only then that Steve’s eyes trail from hers and flick up, locking with your own.

Something unreadable flashes in his eyes – surprise, maybe? Or possibly guilt. Whatever it is, it’s gone just as fast as it appeared and he follows the other girls down the hall without a word.

There’s a pang in your chest at his indifference. It’s hard to see him act so careless about everything but maybe you should have expected as much.

Suddenly, you hear Max’s voice coming from the other room and you’re reminded of the situation you’re actually in. If heartbreak was the worst thing you had to deal with then so be it – because the alternative is Max losing her life and you be damned if you let that happen.

The rest of the time spent in the house passes in a blur. You all came to the realization that whatever Vecna is doing, he has some sort of connection withlights and uses that to almost travel between dimensions.

It’s hours later when everyone gets back to the Wheeler home and Nancy decided on using the late hours to regroup and plan for the next few days. How to break the bad news to Eddie, how to successfully avoid Jason and the police, how to make sure Max stays safe by enforcing what Dustin coined as Max Watch.

The basement fills with overlapping chatter. Dustin and Nancy argue over which crisis is more important, Lucas is trying his best to comfort Max – who doesn’t seem to be all that interested in talking anymore – and Robin looks torn between staying silent and joining the argument.

Yet all you can focus on is Steve.

He’s let out his own fair share of input throughout the night and even made some arguably ill-timed jokes with Dustin. You’d like to be infuriated over the fact that he seems fine being around you and not talking but you’re not. You’re just.. hurt.

You’re sitting on a singular chair close to the stairs – the spot furthest from Steve. You’re trying to ignore the loud noises coming from everyone and before your mind catches up with your body, your hand reaches up for your locket.

Except your fingers grasp around air.

Your spine straightens in your seat and you glance down as your palm glides across the fabric of your shirt.

Nothing.

You swipe your hand across your neck, hoping it slipped under your shirt, except it’s not.

Nothing but bare skin.

Panic rises in your chest almost immediately. Every sound coming from the others drowns out of your ears as you shove your jacket off, shaking it erratically in front of you in case it tangled itself there.

Nothing.

You jump to your feet in the blink of an eye and pull the cushions from the small seat – fingers gliding across every inch of fabric in case it slipped through.

Nothing.

This cannot be happening. You couldn’t have lost it. You just had it.

Your stomach twists with anxiety as you search for it. Robin is the first one to notice the change in your behavior.

She calls your name gently. “What’s wrong?”

There’s a lump in your throat that makes it hard to respond. You drop to your knees, snatching your purse from where it sat on the floor. Without a second thought, you dump everything out and onto the floor.

“My necklace – it’s gone,” You respond quietly. There’s a waver in your voice and you know it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Your fingers push apart every item from your bag. Your wallet, your keys, useless receipts, loose change.

No locket.  

Your heart is hammering in your chest and there’s a burning feeling coursing through your veins.

“What necklace?” Robin asks and without looking back, you can feel everyone’s eyes on you. It’s embarrassing but the fear of having lost one of the most important things to you overpowers that.

“My locket. It was just here, I just had it,” You explain. She approaches you and offers a small smile.

“It’s okay, we’ll find it. Where was the last place you had it?”

“I don’t – I don’t know. I felt it at the Creel house and that’s.. that’s the last time I can remember,” Your voice is quiet and broken but you keep sifting through the pile of useless things from your purse.

It’s not there. It’s not in your pocket. It’s not around your neck. It’s gone.

Nancy speaks up from behind you next. “Look I’m sorry about your necklace but that’s not really important right now.”

Her tone isn’t unkind but it is impatient. She’s not wrong but the reminder hits a nerve inside you.

“It’s my necklace,” Your response is curt but she doesn’t let it bother her.

“We have to focus on saving lives right now. It’s just a necklace – you can always get another one,” Nancy says.

“No it’s not just a necklace,” You snap, your fingers shake as you shove everything back into your bag and your voice trembles. “It’s from St –“

You freeze before you can finish saying his name. Everything around you feels too small and suffocating. Knowing how much the breakup has been affecting you is different from admitting it to everyone around you.

The hard truth is you’ve been holding onto this single piece of jewelry like it was still a piece of him – but it’s not and it never will be. There was no relationship with him anymore and whether you lost the necklace or not, there never would be again.

Your eyes burn with tears as you kneel against the hardwood floor, sitting over the messy pile that’s your purse. Your shoulders drop and curl into yourself – every ounce of fight drains from you and you finally accept what’s been right in front of you.

The necklace won’t bring him back.

You quietly clean up the mess you made and Robin gives your shoulder a soft squeeze.

“We’ll look more tomorrow, yeah?” She assures but you both know it’s futile. Tomorrow, things with Eddie and Max could worsen. Vecna could make a real appearance. Or Jason and his wild pack of goons could become really dangerous.

You give her a small nod and then the moment passes.

Nancy insists everyone gets rest, saying tomorrow (and however long after that) will be a long day. Everyone does their best to get comfortable in the small space and without a word, you set off upstairs to find a bathroom.

As soon as the door clicks shut, your back leans against the door and tears fall freely against your cheek. They’re thick and hot against your skin and your shoulders rack with sobs.

Your nails dig into the bare skin where the locket used to lay as you let yourself feel it all. The heartbreak of it all and the pain of feeling like it’s happening all over it.

It’s stupid. It’s a single piece of metal. There’s a million other things for you to be worrying about right now but it’s also not just a necklace. It’s that beautiful loving moment you and Steve shared when he gave it to you. It’s his nervous hands shaking as he clasped the chain around your neck. It’s the way his eyes landed on the pendant everyday after. It’s the comfort it’s given you. It’s the last piece of proof that love between you two truly existed.

And now it’s gone.

Steve Harrington feels like the shittiest guy on the planet.

Not only has he spent the last few days acting like he didn’t care about you, he also had to watch you panic over losing the necklace and not comfort you.

Except that was nobody’s fault but his own.

He’s been the most miserable he’s been over the past few months after breaking up with you but he truly felt like it was the right thing to do. He watched you get hurt and face danger head on all because of him and his connections to the Upside Down.

It was his last straw when he woke up in the underground bunker, vision blurred from his swollen eye, and saw the deep cut across your cheekbone. It was still gushing blood but you didn’t even care – you were fussing over him instead of yourself.

That’s when he knew he couldn’t be with you anymore. Because you cared more about his wellbeing instead of your own and he’d be damned if he let you get hurt to save him.

He knew it was cruel doing it over the phone and his ‘reasons’ were even more cruel but selfishly, he couldn’t stand to see the look of agony that would wash over your face if he did it in person.

His fingers gripped the phone so hard his knuckles turned white and when he heard the trembles in your voice as you begged him not to, he had to slam it onto the receiver before you could hear him cry.  

Everyday since then has been hell on earth for him – but he told himself it was worth it if it kept you safe.

And then suddenly, and without him with you, you were in it all over again. Only this time he couldn’t comfort you. He couldn’t hold your hand or kiss your forehead. He gave all that up.

Steve didn’t think you’d still wear the necklace he bought you but his happiness from the confirmation was short lived once you began to panic over losing it.

He came to a realization he subconsciously already knew was true. That breaking up with you didn’t make things easier for you or keep you safe – it just hurt you emotionally instead of physically and he’s made you suffer for months.

He glances down at where you lay across the floor. You’re curled into a ball, knees tucked tight to your chest and one arm bent under your head. You seem to be asleep but you still look restless. He can still see the tear stains on your cheeks and his heart cracks.

He can’t fix what he did months ago, but he can fix this.

Steve stands quietly and his eyes dart across the room to make sure everyone is asleep. Everyone but Lucas is, he jumped for first shift of Max Watch, and he doesn’t seem to be at all interested in what Steve is doing.

He quietly gathers his things and makes his way to his car.

The Creel house is even more intimidating at night. It was once a beautiful home, there’s no denying that, but now it’s covered in boarded up windows and vines growing across every inch. The air around the house is eerily quiet – not even crickets chirp nearby.

Steve stands on the porch – not a single street light offering him any comfort – as he calms himself down enough to enter alone. It’s probably a dumb decision, no definitively a dumb decision, but the memory of your tear stained face, kneeling defeated on the floor is enough to make him move.

He wanders through the house with his flashlight. The floorboards creek beneath his feet and the tall grandfather clock almost mocks him. He fights every instinct to turn tail and run, and moves further into the house.

He retraces your steps the best he can. He looks through the main hallway, spends minutes at every single step of the staircase, he makes his way to the second story and examines every inch of the floor.

He makes it to the end of the hall – the same place you stood frozen at the sight of him and Nancy. He feels guilt settle heavy in his chest. It wasn’t what you were thinking but at the time, he thought it was best to let you believe that. He was so stupid.

Steve swallows down his regret and continues moving.

He spent an hour at the house, rummaging through every corner of the rooms you stepped even a foot in and can’t find it. He’s on his last leg of hope when he enters the attic. He wanders the room, flashlight beaming across the floor as he looks for it.

He’s just about to give up when the light catches something. The reflection bounces off the metal, glaring into his eye, and before he knows it, he rushes to it.

It’s a metal chain hanging from a broken floorboard and he can’t see if there’s a pendant attached to it. He drops to his knees, careful not to shake the broken wood, and holds the flashlight over it.

His fingers gently wrap around the metal and with a little tug, he pulls the metal free. Hanging from the bottom of the chain, is the heart shaped locket. It’s a scratched now and tiny pieces of splintered wood are stuck in the clasp but he found it.

He found it.

Steve breathes out a heavy breath of relief and squeezes the jewelry in his palm. He doesn’t spend another second inside the house and rushes outside – back to his car and back to you.  

By the time Steve makes it back to the Wheelers house, it’s almost three AM. He knew you’d still be asleep and he’d spent the whole car ride back debating if he should wake you up to give it to you, or wait till morning.

His debate solves itself when he steps out of his car, the locket still clutched tight in his fist, and sees you sitting on the front porch of the house.    

He freezes at the sight of you so close to him. It’s the first time you were alone and without distance in months. Everything he thought about saying flies out the window and all he can do is look at you.

You look up when you hear him approaching and surprise flashes in your eyes. He’s not sure what you thought when you saw he was gone – if anything at all – but it’s clear you weren’t expecting to see him like this.

Your hands fidget with the hem of your shirt and he can tell you’re uncomfortable. He never thought he’d see you like that because of him. He hates it.

Your mouth parts like you’re about to say something but he beats you to it.

“I have something for you,” He says.

His voice fills the tense air but the sound of it is like music to your ears. It’s soft and cautious – a hint of exhaustion blanketing it. You blink up at him from where you still sit on the porch step.

“For me?” Your brows furrow. He takes a step closer to you and holds his hand out.

Sitting in the center of his palm is a necklace. Your necklace.

You jump to your feet once recognition hits. A relieved gasp slips past your lips and you rush towards him, fingers tenderly cradling the metal.

“You found it?” You breathe out and hold the necklace in your own hands. Your voice is thick and tears line your eyes again. “I don’t – I don’t understand, how did you find it?”

Steve feels his heart pound when you look up at him with shiny eyes.

“It was at the Creel house, stuck in the attic.” He explains quietly. He’s almost too lost in the way you look right now. Undoubtedly exhausted and heartbroken over the necklace but still so fucking beautiful.

“You went back?”

He nods and watches the way your eyes glance down, taking in the state of him. He almost feels subconscious.

“Why would you do that?” Your voice rises with concern and it takes him aback. “Steve, you could’ve been hurt! We have no idea what’s going on and Robin created the whole no-going-off-alone thing for a reason. Why would you do that just for a necklace?” You chastise him.

It’s ironic that you’re saying it’s just a necklace now when a few hours ago, you were ready to bite Nancy’s head off for saying the same thing.

But this time Steve risked his life for it and that was stupid.

“Because it’s important to you.” Steve says easily. Your breath hitches as he stares down at you. There’s a finality in his voice that makes your heart ache. He says it like it’s obvious – only it’s not obvious and it hasn’t been for a long time.

You shake your head and inhale shakily. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you squeeze the necklace in your palm. You have no idea how to respond and nothing feels adequate anymore.

“Steve..” Your shaky voice trails off but he fills the silence.

“You have a scar,” Steve nearly blurts out.

Confusion flashes across your face but he raises his hand to stroke against your cheek. His fingers trace the raised scar across your skin and you fight the instinct to lean into his hold.

You know without more explanation that whatever his reason is for mentioning the scar, it has to do with the breakup.

“So what,” Your eyes searched his as you spoke. “You’re – you’re grossed out because of my scar?”

Insecurity fills your chest and you move to pull away from his hold. It almost feel like it burns now. His eyes widen and he’s quick to shake his head.

“No! No – no that’s not what I mean,” He raises both hands to grab your hands and hold you in place across from him. He says your name gently and you can see his hazel brown eyes swirl with so many emotions. “What I meant is you have a scar because of me,”

You faltered for a moment. “Steve, I got it from the blunt end of a pistol,”

“Exactly!” He exclaims and your brows pinch together. “You literally got pistol whipped because you were trying to protect me. You got hurt because of me,”

It slowly begins to dawn on you what he’s saying but he doesn’t let you offer any defense before he continues.

“Baby, you have no idea what it felt like to see you hurt like that and how it felt to know it was because of me,” You barely have a chance to bask in the slip of a pet name because he keeps going. “I thought I was doing the right thing back then. I thought I was keeping you safe by walking away – that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, because I’d rather live in a life time of agony alone than drag you into danger. I can’t do that – I won’t do that.” Steve’s voice cracks and your chest tightens. “But you got dragged into it anyway and this time, you’ve been alone and that’s my fault. I hurt you worse than you’ve ever been hurt before and I’m sorry, baby – I’m so fucking sorry,”

By the time Steve finishes, his palms have somehow found home holding your face. The tears that threatened to fall have spilled down your skin and wet his hands. Unaware to himself, his own eyes gloss over with tears.

It’s a terrible reason to have broken up with you and a deep part of you is angry that he didn’t just have a conversation with you but the biggest part of you is so fucking relieved to hear those words come out of his mouth.

Because it’s not that he didn’t love you anymore, it was that he loved you too much.

You breathe in a shaky breath and bring your freehand up to grip his wrist. “Steve..”

He leans his forehead against your own and his eyes flutter shut – a few stray tears slide down his cheeks and your heart shatters at the sight. You’ve spent so much time thinking he didn’t care but in reality, he was living the same hell you were.

You whisper his name but when he doesn’t move, you gently pull yourself away from him to bring the locket up to view. “Steve, look at me,” You murmur. He doesn’t take his hands off your face but he obliges. “You didn’t open it, did you?”

His eyes glance at the chain in your hand. “The necklace? No,” He shakes his head.

You give him a tearful smile and nudge it towards him. He doesn’t seem to get the hint. “Open it,”

He looks hesitant to let you go but when you give him another gentle encouragement, his hands move from your skin to hold the locket. He sniffles as he opens the metal.

His fingers still once it’s laid open in front of him.

Tucked inside the hearts are two pictures – one of the two of you on a date and the other of just him smiling softly into the camera.

His heart constricts in his chest at the sight of it. It wasn’t just that you still wore the necklace – you still carried him with you. Everyday since he gave it to you.

You let the silence sit for a moment before speaking up.

“Steve, it never mattered if we were together or not. I would follow you into danger every time. You could’ve been dragged to hell right now and I would still jump in after you because I love you, Steve. So mu –“

You’re suddenly cut off when he slams his lips against yours. The feeling of his lips fitting perfectly with yours is dizzying relief and your hands cling to his shoulders. You hold onto him so tight, like you’re afraid he’s about to slip away, and his hands cradle your face just as tight.

Steve is overwhelmed with every ounce of love he’s ever felt for you and you feel just the same.

His mouth slots against yours as he pours everything into this one kiss. He feels warm and fuzzy against you and it’s like all the torturous moments away from him completely fade away.

“I love you so – so fucking much,” Steve whispers against your lips, careful not to break contact, and you don’t even pretend to fight the smile that breaks out on your face. “So much baby, so so much,”

He continues to repeat it even as his lips travel from your lips and across your skin. He leaves messy kisses to your cheek, along your jaw, even over your eyelids until he lands back on your lips.

You hold each other close and breathe in each others air for as long as you can until he finally breaks apart from you – but he still doesn’t go far and rests his forehead against yours. You both nearly struggle to catch your breath but you’re both smiling wide.

It all feels right again. Perfect.

You carefully pull the necklace from his hand and hold it up again. “Will you put it on me?”

Steve nods without hesitation and carefully turns your hips to face away from him. Your pull your hair over one shoulder as he pulls the chain around your neck. His warm finger tips brush against your skin and tiny goosebumps erupt over you. The metal is cool against the warmth of your body – right where it belongs – and Steve’s hands glide across your shoulders after he clasps it in place.

You turn in his hold and wrap your arms around his middle. You look up at his beautiful eyes and he stares back down at yours. “I missed you,” You confess softly.

He nods above you and his thumb glides across your cheek. “I’ve missed you even more, sweet girl.”

There’s a million and one things to worry about tomorrow. The state of the world, Max’s safety, Eddie’s freedom and so much more but there’s not a sliver of doubt inside you that you can’t deal with it if he’s by your side.

You hoped that you could get away with just sitting at the lake’s edge, of maybe just dipping your toes in. But then the day came and the Indiana sun was sweltering. The heat was unforgiving as you sat on the small picnic blanket you had set out while the others had run straight to the lake.

Your thighs were already sticking together beneath your dress despite only arriving five minutes ago and you were trying not to think too much about it.

“You good?”

You jump a little at the sound of Steve’s voice, having not even realised he had not joined the others in the rush into the glistening water of Lover’s Lake.

“Yeah, I’m—” you turn to look at Steve and almost instantly regret it. Because Steve was wearing a backwards baseball cap and some red swimming trunks, standing right in front of you looking so gorgeous that suddenly, you had forgotten the entirety of the English language.

Because Steve may be one of your friends, but his presence always caused a fluttery feeling in your stomach. And the sight of his bare chest—of his broad shoulders, the various freckles and moles dotted over his skin, his soft belly and that generous smattering of hair over his chest—well, it made your mouth feel incredibly dry.

“You, what?” Steve asks, seemingly oblivious to you almost ogling him as he tilts his head to the side as though mildly concerned at your lack of response.

God—you wished that he wasn’t so lovely. That way, you might not have developed this stupid crush on him.

It happened gradually over the years. Steve had gone from being the guy you never spoke to in high school because he was popular and threw parties almost every weekend (ones that you had never been invited to) to the guy who bought you blueberry muffins when you were on the early shift at the pharmacy that sat next to Family Video just because. The guy who you now consider to be one of your best friends. The guy you were desperately in love with but didn’t stand a chance with.

“I’m good,” you tell him finally, forcing a smile despite the fact the heat from the sun was already getting to you. “Just a bit hot, that’s all.”

“Bit hot is an understatement,” Steve grins down at you. “A dip in the lake should cool you down though.”

You swallow at the suggestion, your skin prickling at the thought of taking off your dress in front of Steve, of all people. Steve—who was so gorgeous that it made you aware of the sweat gathering beneath your breasts, made you aware of the fact that your body didn’t look like any of the girls he had been with previously. You had thought about the latter a lot more than you cared to admit.

“I’m fine for now,” you tell him with what you hope was a convincing smile.

Steve nods and part of you hopes, as he looks away from you, that he’ll leave you there. That he’ll take your word for it, join the others in the lake and you could watch from your spot on the picnic blanket without needing to think of an excuse to not join him in the lake. But of course, Steve was too good of a friend to just leave you on your own.

He sits himself down on the blanket beside you, his thigh pressing against yours and making your stomach feel as though it was made out of goo. Because Steve Harrington had that effect on you.

“Well, I’m not going to just leave you out here by yourself,” Steve declares, leaning back on his hands and making all intelligent thoughts leave your brain at the sight of him lounging shirtless beside you.

Your face warms and for once, you’re grateful for the sweltering heat. “You don’t have to,” you tell him. “It’s fine. Really, it’s—”

But he shuts you up by carefully placing his baseball cap on top of your head.

“I’m good here,” he tells you with a smile that devastates you in the best way possible. “You’re way more fun than those losers anyway.”

It was hard not to react to that—the corners of your mouth twitch and your face now feels hot to the touch but thankfully, a yell from the lake saves you from responding.

“I heard that!” Dustin Henderson yells from the water.

The day only got hotter as the afternoon wore on. You made sure to keep hydrated, but you were still so hot and the lake was taunting you.

Steve had been dragged into the lake by Eddie some ten minutes after he had sat down beside you. Once again, you had politely declined the offer to join him and the others in the lake and it was something close to torture to watch Steve—skin wet, water dripping from the coarse hair over his chest, laughing loudly as Max cussed Lucas out for splashing her. 

“He looks like a wet dog,” Robin comments, a slight frown on her face as she drops a cold bottle of water from the ice cooler onto your lap, jolting you. “I seriously don’t know why you like him when he’s got all that on his chest.”

“Robin!” You yelp, eyes wide as she plops herself down next to you. You look over to where Eddie and Jonathan were arguing over the correct way to set up the barbeque nearby. “What if someone—”

“Relax,” Robin tells you, waving a hand as though it was nothing, as though your face wasn’t burning from her comment at the thought of anyone overhearing—of Steve overhearing. “I’m not going to scream it from the rooftops. I’m subtle,” you let out a small snort of laughter because nothing about Robin Buckley was subtle. “You however gawking at him like that—”

“—I was not gawking—”

“—you’re totally gawking. Like if you were in a cartoon, you’d just be drooling from your mouth and—”

“—okay, I get it,” you say, bringing your knees up to your chest and looking anywhere but down at the water where Steve’s back was on full display—muscles rippling as he stretched and looking so delectable and gorgeous and— “I can’t help it, okay? I just—”

“Really like him?” Robin offers with a small smile before nudging your arm. “Yeah, I know.”

You sigh before you uncap the bottle of water she had bought you, bringing the bottle to your lips and taking a long sip. The near ice cold water was heaven in your mouth, the liquid sliding down your throat and giving you some minor relief from the heat.

Robin doesn’t say anything, just watches you thoughtfully before she looks out over the lake—at the sun making the water sparkle, at the heatwaves making the trees on the other side of the lake move.

“I’m sorry that everyone else tagged along,” Robin murmurs, glancing at you. “You know I can’t say no to those kids. I mean, they’re little shits but—”

“—you don’t need to apologise Robin,” you tell her with a faint smile.

“But I feel bad,” she says, her eyes flickering down as though suddenly interested in the embroidery on the picnic blanket. “I mean—you haven’t been in the water yet.”

Your stomach turns, you shift on the blanket and you feel your calves sticking to the backs of your thighs from sweat. You didn’t want to have this conversation with Robin—not right now. You knew she would tell you that you didn’t have to feel uncomfortable, that the others didn’t care about the bit of extra weight you had put on. But the fact of the matter was—you cared, despite your best efforts not to. You cared.

“I’m fine,” you tell her with a slightly forced smile. “Really.”

Robin opens her mouth to respond, likely to call you out for your blatant lie but the sudden appearance of Nancy Wheeler shuts her up.

“Hey,” Nancy greets you both brightly, her eyes flickering over to Robin for a brief second before she sits herself down on the blanket directly opposite from you. 

“H-hi Nance,” Robin stutters a little and you have to fight the urge to tease her for it.

Nancy smiles at Robin before her eyes flit over to you. “Steve keeps asking if you’re okay.”

Your face burns at Nancy’s words but you try your best not to react. Not to show how her words had made your stomach turn and made you feel as though your entire world had turned on its axis.

“Oh,” was all you managed to say. “Yeah—I’m ok—”

“—I think he likes you back.”

It was quiet and then—

“Robin—”

“—I didn’t tell her!” Robin insists, her face paling as she looks from you to Nancy and back again. “I swear! I didn’t—”

Nancy laughs and all you wanted was for the ground to swallow you whole.

“I’m very observant,” Nancy explains. “And the way you’re looking at each other—it’s kind of obvious.”

You blink—not fully registering Nancy’s words because there was no way that Steve Harrington looked at you like anything more than just a friend. She had to be lying, she had to—

“I mean—I don’t know if you’ve noticed but he keeps looking over at you and he’s asked me and Robin like fifteen times since we got here if you were okay.”

“He has?” You ask, looking from Nancy to Robin and back again.

“Almost as much as you’ve been looking at him,” Robin tells you. “He’s probably just waiting until you take that dress off.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “Well, he’d be very disappointed if I did.”

The words slip out before you could stop them and you don’t miss the look on both Robin and Nancy’s faces. The way Robin’s face falls slightly and Nancy looks slightly taken aback.

You swallow, face warming as you nervously adjust Steve’s cap that was still perched on your head. “I just mean—”

“—don’t start,” Robin tells you in an almost serious voice. “If you say one bad thing about yourself, I will sell that signed Bonnie Tyler vinyl you have.”

“You dare—”

“—then be kind to yourself,” Nancy says with an encouraging smile. “Because trust me, Steve would not be disappointed by you. Not at all.”

You chew your bottom lip between your teeth, wanting to believe Nancy’s words but at the same time, that small bit of doubt that lives in your ribcage seemed to gnaw at your insides, reminding you of every horrible thought you had ever had about yourself. Thoughts that would probably make Robin slap you, ones that made you compare yourself to every woman you had ever seen him with—made you compare yourself to someone like Nancy.

As though being able to read your mind, Nancy gives you a look—not sympathy, not pity, just understanding.

“He never looked at me like that,” she tells you simply. “He never looked at me like there wasn’t a single thing about me he’d change.”

Something that felt dangerously like hope twisted in your gut, your eyes drifting back over to Steve to find him already looking over at you. When he catches your eye, you swear you see his cheeks flush just a little. You watch as a smile spreads across his face before he lifts a hand to wave at you. You can barely stop yourself from smiling as you wave back at him.

“You two are sickening,” Robin says affectionately, a small smile pulling at her lips despite herself.

“It’s sweet,” Nancy says fondly.

“He even gave you his hat. Protecting you from the sun and all,” Robin comments, nodding to Steve’s baseball cap still perched on your head. “Now that’s love.”

You snort with laughter, despite the fact your face was burning at her words. “It’s just a hat, Rob,” you tell her even though you knew deep down that it wasn’t just a hat—this particular baseball cap was the one that Steve had been given by one of his favourite baseball players when he was seven years old. The hat that he had once yelled at Dustin for daring to borrow. It was not just a hat and you knew that.

“Hmm,” Robin hums as she shares a look with Nancy. “Sure. Just a hat. Keep telling yourself that.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way your stomach was squirming, the way it was near impossible to not smile.

“Well, I need to cool down,” Nancy announces, standing up, slipping her top over her head before unbuttoning her denim shorts while Robin looks as though she had forgotten how to breathe. “Want to come with?” She asks you, holding out her hand for you to take.

You stare at her hand for a long moment, weighing up the options. You could refuse—you could spend the rest of the day in the near unbearable heat, chasing the shade and watching your friends have fun in the water without you. Or you could take the plunge, ignore the doubt and cool down in the glittering lake. Maybe see if Robin and Nancy were right about Steve.

You swallow before you take Nancy’s outstretched hand to allow her to pull you up to your feet.

“You got this,” she whispers encouragingly, taking Steve’s cap off your head and dropping it onto Robin’s lap.

You smile shyly back at her before glancing back over at Steve who was once again already looking over at you. The look on his face, the softness in his eyes and hopeful expression on his face makes your stomach turn. And it was the look on his face, along with the feeling burning in your lower stomach that you found the confidence to finally peel your dress from your body to reveal the cherry red bikini beneath that stood out against your skin.

And shockingly, the world did not come to an end at the sight of you in a bikini. Nothing really changed. The kids were still arguing over the rules of sharks and minnows, Jonathan and Eddie were debating over how long to cook the burgers.

The only thing that had changed was Steve’s face. Because suddenly, Steve Harrington was looking at you in a way that he never had before. It was the sort of look that you hoped you’d never forget. The kind of look you wanted to bottle and save for a rainy day, the look that made you forget all about the sweat that had built up in the valley of your breasts, of the softness of your stomach, of the fact the fat of your thighs jiggled as you follow Nancy towards the lake.

Steve’s honeyned brown eyes were wide, following every movement of yours with parted lips and not paying attention to the kids trying to kill each other in front of him.

“See?” Nancy whispers to you, nudging your arm with a wry smile playing across her lips. “He is anything but disappointed right now.”

The moment you slipped into the water right after Nancy, relief flooded through you. The heat that had been prickling your skin only moments before was replaced by the cold lake water. It lapped at your skin as the lower half of your body was submerged in the water, your stomach tightening at the cold before you waded further into the water behind Nancy.

Nancy turns around, smiling widely at you. “Not so bad, is it?”

You couldn’t deny that she was right because the thought of what could have happened was much worse than the reality. In reality, no one cared. No one thought less of you because you dared to show more skin. No one was cruel, no one laughed. In fact, Max and El smiled widely when they realised you were finally in the water, both girls rushing over to you to gush about how great you looked, how incredible you looked in a bikini. Their comments and kindness made your eyes sting in a way you would blame on forgetting your sunglasses on the picnic blanket.

“Red is so your colour,” Max tells you.

“It is,” El agrees with a nod.

“I think you’ve broken Harrington though,” Max says with a snort of laughter, nudging El’s arm and pointing towards Steve who was red in the face and trying his very best (and failing) to not stare at your cleavage. “Honestly, you’d think he’s never seen boobs before.”

“Max!” You try to scold her while your own face burns at her comment coupled with the feeling of Steve’s eyes on you. “He’s not looking at my—”

“—he is,” El tells you bluntly. “He’s not very subtle about it.”

You laugh, nerves bubbling in your stomach as you chance a glance over at Steve who had seemed finally able to drag his eyes away from you just in time for him to tell Dustin off for nearly drowning Will. Still, Steve’s eyes flicker back over to you and when he sees you looking at him he shoots you a devastatingly handsome smile.

“Go talk to her, idiot,” Dustin tells Steve in a carrying voice, whacking him on the arm. “You think gawking at her is gonna impress her? You know, with Suzie I—”

The rest of Dustin’s sentence was cut off by Lucas dunking his head beneath the water.

You bite back a laugh, trying to ignore the way your heart was thumping in your chest.

Steve did eventually drift over to you, after preventing yet another would-be drowning. Nancy, Max and El swim away with you with every intention of eavesdropping on yours and Steve's conversation as he treads water in front of you with a dopey smile on his face.

“You finally got in,” he says with a smile, eyes dipping to your chest for a brief second before forcing himself to look at your face, the tips of his ears turning pink. “To the lake I mean. ‘Cause you looked pretty hot out there earlier—I mean, um—because of the heat y’know. It’s really hot today so obviously you were hot too. Not that you don’t look hot um—”

In all the years you had known Steve Harrington, you had never known him to be nervous but right now, in front of you? The man was floundering.

“God, this is painful to watch,” Max comments from a few feet away, floating on her back alongside a giggling El.

“Tell me about it,” Steve mutters to himself, scratching the back of his neck and allowing you a glorious view of his biceps, still wet from lake water.

“You good?” You ask him with a bright laugh, one that makes him look over at you, makes his mouth twitch as though trying not to smile.

“Yeah, grand,” Steve replies. “Just um—you look good. Like really good. Not that you don’t always look good because you do. I mean, good is an understatement. You always look pretty. No, beautiful. You always look beautiful but right now you look—wow.”

His words tumble out so quickly that you barely have time to process them but when you finally do, something swoops low in your belly, making you feel hot in a way that has nothing to do with the sun still beating down on you and everything to do with the man standing in front of you.

When you say nothing, because you’re too busy trying to comprehend what had just come out of Steve’s mouth, he adds, “I uh—I used to be a lot smoother than this, I swear.”

The comment makes you laugh and your laugh makes Steve laugh, albeit a little nervous.

“What changed?” You ask him, a small smile playing on your lips as you tilt your head to the side to consider him.

Steve seems to bite the inside of his cheek, his eyes dancing over your face in a way that seems to steal the breath from your lungs, making you feel like you were the only two people in the lake, like you were the only two people for miles (despite in the back of your mind, knowing you had an audience).

“You,” Steve says simply in a low voice that makes you feel more alive than you had ever felt before.

And yet—there was still that small part of you that wondered if it was pity or if you were imagining things or—

A sudden splash of water to your right makes you yelp and Steve swear loudly.

“Henderson! You little shit—”

Steve goes to lunge for Dustin but Max gets there first, whacking Dustin on the back of the head with a loud smack!

“Ouch!” Dustin grumbles, glaring at Max. “What was that for—”

“—they were having a moment, moron!”

Steve looked as though he wanted nothing more than to submerge himself into the water and not resurface. While you were trying hard not to let self doubt creep in again but it was beginning to slip beneath the cracks.

“Hey,” Steve murmurs suddenly, stepping closer to you in the water and causing you to jump slightly, your arms wrapping around yourself as though wanting to cover the parts of you that left Steve’s mouth feeling dry.

And Steve—he can see right through you. Because he noticed everything about you and so, of course he had noticed the way you had been quiet after a shopping trip with Robin, how your face had once fallen when your thighs had clapped together in front of him and he had noticed how much you wanted to cover up, even in the summer months. He noticed all of this and god—it killed him.

Because to Steve, you were the most beautiful girl in the world. And it broke his heart to think that you wanted to hide from everyone, from him.

“Hi,” you whisper back. You smile back at him but your arms are still locked around your body, your stomach pressing against your forearm in a way it didn’t a few months ago. The contact makes your stomach churn because you hated the fact it bothered you, you hated the fact that you were beginning to measure your worth by your body.

Almost like he could read your thoughts, Steve stepped even closer, his large hands gently wrapping around your wrists. He doesn’t pull them away. Not yet. He just looks back at you with a soft, kind expression that makes your heart feel as though it had doubled in size.

“I can see right through you, you know that?” Steve tells you gently, dragging a thumb across your skin and making your arm erupt with goosebumps. The sight and the knowledge that he had that effect on you makes his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“What are you thinking?” He asks gently, head tilting as he studies you. “Tell me. Please.”

You swallow, heart pounding in your chest as you lift your eyes to meet his. Under his gaze, you felt every nerve in your body, you felt your pulse beneath your skin and you felt his touch, like fire against you.

“I just—” you begin, your tongue darting out to lick the corner of your mouth as you consider your words carefully. “I want to be sure if—that this isn’t pity or—or you just being nice or—”

“—pity?” Steve repeats, eyes widening slightly, completely taken aback by your words. “You think—think that I pity you? Why would I?”

As soon as the words fall from his lips, you know how ridiculous you were for even thinking that Steve would pity you over the way you look. Because this was Steve and he was kind, honest and genuine.

“I just—I don’t feel great about myself right now and—I guess that find it hard to believe that you would—you know—”

“—like you?” Steve asks and your breath hitches as he tugs your arms away from your stomach so he could rest one hand on your hip. “Be attracted to you? Is that so hard to believe?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, trying hard not to think about Steve touching you right now, trying not to think about the others who were pretending not to watch this exchange with baited breath.

“Not because I think you’re too shallow or anything I just—I just find it hard to believe anyone would—”

Something inside of Steve breaks at your admission because fuck, you were beautiful. And he hated—hated—that there was a part of you that couldn’t see what he did.

“Do you have any idea how fucking perfect you are?” He asks, fingers gliding across your skin, over the curve of your hip, your lower back (dangerously close to the top of your ass) and finally over your stomach. “I mean—shit—this bikini it—it’s killing me. You look—fuck—I can’t even really say or I’m going to embarrass myself but you’re gorgeous and I’m not just saying that to be nice. I’m saying it because it’s true. You. Are. Beautiful. And I hope to god that one day you’ll be able to see yourself from my point of view. See how fucking gorgeous you are.”

“But until then,” Steve murmurs, lifting a hand to gently cup your cheek, holding you as though you were something precious. “I don’t know how else to convince you other than—”

He doesn’t finish his sentence because before you could even begin to understand what was about to happen—he was tugging your body flush against his and leaning in to brush his lips against yours. His mouth was warm, soft and he was kissing you so gently that you were struggling to remember how to breathe, even your own name was a blur.

The sounds of Robin screaming in delight, of Eddie and Jonathan both cheering and Dustin pretending to gag all turned into nothing as you kissed Steve back. A warmth spreads through your stomach as he groans softly against your lips, tilting your head back just so to deepen the kiss. 

Truthfully, you could have kissed him for hours. Days, even. Especially when you parted your lips and his tongue eagerly licked into your mouth, brushing against yours and causing a fire in your gut that had you clinging to his biceps in order to keep yourself tethered to him.

“Keep it PG guys!” Eddie yells and you both finally pull away, breathless and struggling to form a coherent sentence. “There’s children present!”

“Sorry,” Steve grins, lips swollen and cheeks a little flushed as his fingers splay across your hip as though desperate to explore more of your curves, eager to touch every part of you that had kept him awake at night. “My girl’s just hard to resist.”

Heat blooms across your face as the girls squeal and Dustin groans in disgust.

“Your girl?” You whisper back to Steve with a small smile.

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek—chaste but leaves your skin burning. “That okay?”

“More than okay,” you tell him with a smile that was almost painful to hold back.

“Food’s ready!” Jonathan calls out. The kids all race out of the water but you stay next to Steve, your body thrumming with want as his hand finally allows itself to dip to the swell of your ass beneath the water.

“You want to grab food?” You ask him, trying to keep a straight face as his fingers squeeze the globe of your ass.

“Think I need five minutes,” Steve says with a slightly sheepish expression, leaning in to press a kiss to your hairline. “Maybe ten. Blame the bikini.”

You laugh and Steve can’t help but join you, that doubt in your ribcage lessening just enough to not think twice as his hands continue to roam over your body.

“Hey Steve!” Robin calls out. “I um—I think I got mustard on your hat.”

“Son of a—”

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Lately, Steve felt like you had a hard time listening.

Whether it was about his suggestion during a movie night or his options for dinner – you were arguing with him about it.

Tonight’s no exception.

Except this time, Steve’s patience is nowhere to be found.

Steve has your back pressed against his chest in the small guest bathroom of his house. There’s a party raging downstairs – all for Robin’s birthday but it’s the farthest thing from your mind right now.

Your pink dressed is shoved up and bunched over your hips. Steve kicked your feet apart seconds after he pinned you to the counter and your lower stomach presses harshly to the counter top.

He has one arm wrapped around your waist and the other snaked between you and the counter – his fingers nestled deep in your cunt. Your head is heavy against his shoulder as he murmurs into your ear.

You’ve pushed his buttons all night, riling him up every chance you got, and twenty minutes ago he dragged you into the bathroom and turned your attitude into complete submission.

“God you feel so tight around my fingers,” Steve breathes against the shell of your ear. The walls of your pussy clench harder around him and he huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock,”

“Oh fuck, Steve,” You whine helplessly at his crude words. His fingers plunge in and out of you – you’re so wet he’s practically sliding in and out without any effort.

Your thighs ache from the shaking and spasming he’s caused. Steve decided on a torturous route tonight. He’s pushed you so close to the edge twice already and just before you can take a step off the ledge, he yanks you back.  

The air around you is thick and sticky – from your shared body heat and the frustration you’re feeling from him edging you for the last half hour.

Steve knows just how to get you to the edge and how to pull you back just as quickly.

It’s hell. 

And it’s ecstasy.

Steve brings his hand from around your waist and glides it up your stomach, landing with his palm wrapped loosely around your throat. You lean into his hold.

His other hand continues thrusting his fingers in and out, his thumb catching on your clit to rub tight circles.

“Just like that! Oh please – please don’t stop,” You cry out. Steve nudges the side of your face with his nose and you can feel his smirk against your skin.

“Yeah, right there?” He asks, his fingers continuing their brutal pace. You’re so close. You nod helplessly against his hand, thighs squeezing shut around his hand. Steve leaves dizzying kisses from the underside of your jaw all the way to your temple. He stop to whisper. “You gonna cum?”

“Yes, yes – I’m – I’m right there,”

Your toes curl and that coil in your stomach tightens. Your orgasm is almost there, barely lighting up your finger tips and then suddenly, Steve pulls his fingers out and that feeling of euphoria is gone.

“No no no no!” You sob, knees buckling under you. Your eyes squeeze shut in frustration for the third time you’ve been denied now.

Steve hushes you from behind, using his palm still around your neck to tilt your head up and to the side so he can kiss you. It’s quick but deep. His tongue laps against your own, swallowing down your cries and whines. He smiles against your lips, that bastard.

“I know baby,” Steve coos. “It’s hard, I know, but you can take it. Just a little longer, yeah?”

Despite the torment he’s subjecting you to, the tenderness of his voice has you like a puddle at his feet.

Your wide eyes stare up at him, filled with nothing but lust and trust, and you nod frantically. Anything for him to finally let you come.

“I can – I can take it,” You promise, your voice shaking.

He leans down to press his mouth to yours. “Good girl,” He murmurs against your lips.

Steve removes both his hands from your body and dips them between your bodies. Your stomach swirls at the sound of his belt unbuckling, the metals clinking against each other, and before you know it, Steve’s pants are shoved mid thigh and he’s guiding your body to bend over the sink.

You follow his lead mindlessly, letting him place you exactly where he wants. You hands find purchase against the granite top and he pushes your face down until you meet the counter.

It’s cooling against your cheek, and Steve keeps his large hand splayed across your face as he uses his other hand to line himself up to your entrance.

Your breathing is erratic again, adrenaline and anticipation coursing deep in your veins. Your pussy aches for him and clenches around air. Surprisingly, he doesn’t let you suffer long and pushes himself deep in one thrust.

Steve finds his unforgiving rhythm almost immediately. The stretch is intense – it always is – but the relief is even stronger. You’re a moaning mess for him and your hips buck down to meet each thrust.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Always so fucking good,” Steve groans, one hand squeezing your hip to hard you know it’ll bruise. He watches the way your ass bounces against him every time he drives into you.

The wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you fills the room. It’s so lewd and obscene that anybody walking past the door would be able to hear it – you’re thankful for the obnoxiously loud stereo playing from downstairs.

Heat burns through your veins and your body jolts forward with every thrust. In a split second, Steve’s hand tangles itself in your hair before he yanks you back up.

His hips drill into yours, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you – that perfect spot only he’s ever touched – and your eyes roll all the way to the back of your head.

“Oh my God, you’re so – so deep,” You whimper. His fingers tighten in your hair, forcing your back into a deeper arch. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip so hard you taste blood.

Everything about him is so overwhelming. His brutal pace, the warmth radiating from his skin and to yours, the smell of sex surrounding you. It’s all too much for you to handle and he can feel it.

You clench harder around him and he quickens his pace.

“Don’t cum yet,” Steve demands. His voice is firm and unyielding. There’s a slight edge to it and you know he’s just barely hanging on to his own resolve.

You whine in protest – one that quickly turns into another moan when Steve’s hand smacks against the swell of your ass. You jolt at the collision, knees smacking against the cabinets.

“Hold it, baby. I know you can.” Steve grunts. His cock continues to feel like it’s splitting you open and then your eyes focus on the mirrors reflection in front of you.

Your own face is a mess. Mascara runs from your eyes, the blush you swept across your cheeks now mixes with the natural blush Steve caused, your lips are a bitten and swollen mess and your hair is still wrapped messily around his hand.

Steve looks even better. His face is pinched in pure pleasure. There’s a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead, dripping down his temple. His hair is messier than normal and when he glances upwards, meeting your gaze, his eyes are dark and full of lust.

You can’t hold your body back any longer. Every nerve in your body ignites on fire, every tendon pulled taut by him and every muscle begging for relief. Steve uses your knotted hair as leverage and forces your gaze to stay on the reflection of you two.

“Look at you, baby,” He breathes. “Look at the mess you’re making all over me,”

Your head nods frantically against his hold as your eyes bounce around the sight in front of you. You focus on the way his hands grip your hair and your waist, the way your body jerks every time he drives his hips into yours.

You mewl against him, aching for release.

Steve lets out a loud groan as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix. “Goddamnit, you were fuckin’ made for me, weren’t you?”

“Steve baby, please – I need to.. I wanna cum,” You plead helplessly. As he listens to you, he wonders where that sour attitude suddenly went.

“Hold it.” He says firmly. There’s no room for arguing with him but you can feel the way his thrusts begin to turn sloppy and you know he’s not far from his own release.

He just wants you with him.

Steve forces your face back to the mirror. “You wanna cum, hmm?”

“Yes yes! I’ll do anything – please,” Your pathetic begging is music to his ears.

His grins at the sight of you and brings his back back down to your clit, the pads of his three fingers massaging over the sensitive nub. “Come on then baby, do it. Cum for me baby, let go,”

His words are a catalyst – like a conditioned reaction, your entire body tightens around him and your head throws back against his shoulder. Your thighs tremble at the feeling of his cock splitting you open and the extra simulation.

Your fingers dig into the skin and his arm as your climax finally hits.

Your eyes squeeze shut – your vision blurs into something hazy and your head swims with the overwhelming feeling of Steve. Your pussy gushes around his cock and he whines at the feeling and sight of it.

He keeps his eyes trained on the way he disappears in and out of you, and the way your pussy opens and envelopes him with every thrust. Perfectly adjusting to the size of him – just like you were made for him.

It’s all he needs to follow you right off the edge. His arms wrap around your limp body, hugging you back against his chest as his hips sloppily thrust into you. “I’m gonna – I’m gonna cum baby,”

You coo against him, fuzzy and content.

Steve gives you one last thrust before his hips shove to a hilt against yours and you feel thick ropes of his cum fill your pussy. He twitches against your warm and velvet walls, his face buried into your neck as he bites on your skin to minimize the noises threatening to spill.

He stayed sheathed inside for a moment as you both regain  your breath and when he finally looks up at you, there’s a sweet and almost pliable smile on your face.

He smirks gently and kisses the side of your face. “Think I fucked all the attitude out of you yet?”

You pretend to think for a moment, eyes flicking to the corner of the room. “Hmm. I don’t know, maybe we should try again just to be sure,”

Steve laughs against your skin but before he can respond, there’s a bang at the door.

Steve had never imagined himself having to live with a roommate, especially a woman that wasn’t his significant other, but coaching and teaching sex-ed to a bunch of middle schoolers didn’t pay shit, and he couldn’t stand living with his parents anymore. So when one of the few people besides him out of the rag-tag group of people he called friends that had stayed in Hawkins mentions something about getting a place together he figures– why not? 

He’d known you for years, had experienced too many near death experiences with you, and he also knew you were looking for any excuse to get out of the damn near slum of an apartment you were living in then. So, on a bright sunny Saturday morning in April the two of you sign the lease for what has now been your home for a little over a year. 

Living with each other was a lot easier than either of you thought it was going to be. Shared chore lists, weekly movie nights, eating dinner together, learning each other’s little quirks– it was all very domestic.

So domestic that sometimes your lines of reality and fantasy blurred and sometimes you’d have to remind yourself that Steve was not your boyfriend and just your best friend. Which usually happened a couple times a month when he’d casually mention that he had a date and so you’d be the good roommate you are and let him have his alone time and then the following week you’d just so happen to have a date also. 

Which is how you’ve ended up with Eric breathing heavily into your ear as he pounds into you with such a hurry that you think maybe he wants this to be over with faster than you do. Your bedframe repeatedly hits the wall as you count the ceiling tiles above you and it’s not until you hear him groan something along the lines of i’m cumming that you let out a fake gasp and then he’s rolling off of you without as much as a second glance. 

He says he’ll call you tomorrow. 

You know he more than likely won’t and that’s more than fine with you. 

Steve strolls through the door near midnight, figuring thats plenty enough time for you two to do whatever, and for the guy to leave without there being any awkward introductions. Thankfully he’s right and he’s greeted with you sitting on the couch, freshly showered and in your pajamas, with what he can only assume is your leftovers from dinner in your lap. 

He plops down onto the couch beside you with a sigh and you immediately shove the styrofoam container of lasagna towards him. “Want some? It’s from Enzo’s.” 

“Enzo’s?” Steve questions, eyebrows raised in surprise. “He must have really wanted to impress you,” he states, grabbing the fork and shoving a piece in his mouth without a second thought. “Did it work?” 

“No,” you reply, taking the fork back from him and splitting what’s left down the middle for the two of you to share. “Should have ended the date after dinner was over.” 

Steve doesn’t say anything, but he knows what you’re alluding to, and he just nods understandingly at you as he takes his turn with the fork. The two of you didn’t necessarily talk about your sex lives, it was implied when either of you had mentioned going on a date and that you needed the apartment to yourself, but neither of you sat here and talked in detail about the latest orgasm you’d had, but if Steve had any inkling, he was pretty sure the guys you brought home weren’t giving you any. 

The thing about your unspoken agreement with Steve about dates and bringing people home was that it wasn’t fool proof. Sometimes the two of you would go out without any expectations of bringing someone home. Then one thing leads to another and suddenly there’s someone trailing in behind either of you and the sound of a bedroom door slamming. It didn’t happen often enough to where it would be an issue, but it happened enough that Steve, while he wasn’t trying to be a creep, was being observant and had seemed to notice the lack of noise from you. 

He’d quickly put on music when he’d hear the sound of your drunken giggles echoing down the hall and then a much deeper voice accompanying yours, but the times when you come home long after he’d gone to bed and you end up waking him up with your loud footsteps and hushes to the mystery man– those times he shamelessly listens.

It seems to be the same variation of sounds and actions every time– the guy trying to be all suave with you, your headboard hitting the wall in rapid succession for a short amount of time, some curses from the guy, and then the sound of the front door slamming shut. Not a single peep out of you the whole time and at first Steve thinks you’re just being considerate, that you’d made the decision to bring someone home while he was here so you’re just being extra quiet, but he also knows that sometimes no matter how hard you try, staying quiet during sex is sometimes impossible.

He figures you’re bound to slip up after a while and he’ll hear a moan or a little dirty talk bleed through the walls, but it never does, except for that one guy you brought home that would not stop with the dirty talk and kept asking you who’s pussy this was. Needless to say Steve ended up putting on music that night. 

And not to toot his own horn, but he knew what it sounded like when a woman was experiencing pleasure, and from what he could tell those guys weren’t getting you off. While he can’t account for the times he isn’t in the apartment, he can tell from your demeanor when he comes home that those times aren’t particularly stellar either. 

Your less than blissed out state as you sit next to him on the couch, sharing your leftover lasagna with him, it proves his point. 

But Steve doesn’t say anything about your lack of post sex glow and how these guys should make it their priority to make you feel good. He doesn’t want to overstep, doesn’t want to cross any lines and potentially make things weird between the two of you, even if he’s a little more concerned with how other guys are treating you in bed than he should be. 

Instead he takes the last bite of his portion of the lasagna and extends an olive branch, an out if you ever needed it, because again he cares about you more than he should. 

“You know if you’re on a date and he’s weird or making you uncomfortable or even if you just want to come home– you can call me. No questions asked, I'll come get you. I’m almost always at Eddie’s or at Slinky’s having a beer.” 

You give him a soft smile, trying to ignore the way his words make your heart do a traitorous thing, like the idea of him being willing to drive across town to come and take you home doesn’t make whatever you feel towards him that much more complicated. 

“Thanks Steve,” you reply, eyes focused on the little bit of lasagna left instead of him. 

“Of course,” he responds, slowly standing up from the couch. “Think I’m gonna go to bed,” his eyes traipse over you, waiting for you to look up at him, and when you finally do he smiles in that endearing way that makes your chest ache. “Goodnight.” 

“Night.” 

You hear his bedroom door close and you’re left sitting on the couch with the now empty takeout container in your lap wondering how much longer you can go on with this act. How much longer can you continue to bring home these guys that don’t know your clit from your nipple and act like the man you actually want isn’t thirty feet away. 

You always get in your head like this afterwards, especially when Steve comes home and you’re absolutely buzzing on the inside with want, but the one thing you want– you can’t have. 

The couch creaks under you as you get up and make the decision to leave the takeout container on the coffee table, claiming you’ll take care of it in the morning. As you pad down the hall and past Steve’s room you hear his muffled voice behind his door and you’re not meaning to eavesdrop, but the sickeningly sweet tone that bleeds out under the door has you frozen in place. 

“Yeah, yeah– I know it’s late and I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t get you out of my mind.” 

“Your number was burning a hole in my pocket from the moment you gave it to me tonight. I couldn't wait to hear your voice again.” 

“I had a really good time tonight and I’d like to see you again if you’re up for it?” 

“Yeah? Great. How about dinner next Friday?” 

“Can’t wait. I’ll call you later with the details.” 

That all too familiar sinking sensation settles deep in your gut and before Steve can figure out you were listening you dart across the hall and into your room. The door slams shut behind you with no regard for the pictures on your wall and before you know it you’re burying your face into your pillow. He’d met someone while he was out tonight and you know you have absolutely no room to talk, no leg to stand on when it came to however you were feeling, you’d been on a date tonight, brought a guy home and had sex, if you could call it that. 

Steve was allowed to do whatever he wanted to, and you knew that, it’s just that you don’t think you can handle another failed date on your end to fill that ache in your heart. 

The next morning you take the initiative to call Eric before he doesn’t and the second date is set for Saturday. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A couple weeks later you manage to score a day off during the week, which meant you had the apartment to yourself.

Steve had thought it was weird how eager you were to send him off to work this morning, in fact majority of the time when you manage to get a day off during the week you’re begging him to play hooky and spend the day with you, but this morning you were nearly pushing him out the door.

He tried not to think too much of it, maybe you just wanted some alone time, or maybe you were inviting Eric over. He had spent the night the last time you went out, which Steve thought was strange, considering you never let guys sleep over, but the mid breakfast meeting between the two men had been interesting to say the least. 

As you walked into the kitchen that morning you found Steve sitting at the little table eating his food with your plate across from him– eggs made just how you like, orange juice in your favorite cup, and toast still hot to the touch. It wasn’t an unusual sight by any means, but what was unusual was you having company in the morning. So he doesn’t even think to make sure you’re alone when he hears you enter the kitchen, eyes not even looking up from his plate, before he blurts out – was he any better this time?

Eric awkwardly clears his throat from behind you and Steve looks up wide-eyed and slightly embarrassed. Before Steve can even begin to spit out an apology Eric mumbles I should get going and it’s an awkward thirty seconds as he gathers his jacket from your room and walks out the front door, because you don’t even try to get him to stay and Steve continues eating his eggs, now content with the departure of the man from your shared apartment. 

Steve figured after that debacle there was no way Eric would be back around, but if he knew Steve wasn’t going to be there today, well there was a chance, and it bothers Steve more than he’d like to admit. Either way though, Steve was going to find out what was going on back at home, because by the time second period rolled around he realized he’d forgotten his change of clothes for baseball practice tonight. There was no way he was going to be out there on that field in slacks and tie, especially when in true Indiana fashion, summer had arrived early and it was sweltering already in May. He’d just run home on his lunch break and grab some clothes and be right back– no big deal. 

He’d even called you before he left to give you a heads up that he was coming home soon, but there was no answer, and so he thinks that maybe his little spiral over Eric potentially being there was for nothing and you probably were out shopping. 

When his pickup truck pulls into his unofficially assigned parking spot at home and your black sedan is in its usual spot next to his– his mind conjures up a million different reasons as to why you hadn’t answered the phone earlier. None of them are good and frankly majority of them involve Eric and he chooses to ignore the alarms going off in his head about how he shouldn’t care this much about you fucking another guy. 

His eyes do a quick sweep of the parking lot, he doesn’t know what Eric drives, so he really doesn’t even know what he’s looking for, but Steve feels like he has crazy intuition and he’s expecting the vehicle to glow like a fucking beacon the second his eyes land on it. 

The search is of course futile. 

His wristwatch lets him know he only has twenty minutes left until he needs to be back at the school and with the hope of not walking through the front door to find Eric balls deep in you– Steve reluctantly gets out of the truck and walks towards apartment 4B. 

For the first time ever in his life– Steve knocks on his own front door. Not because he’s forgotten his key, but because he’s afraid of what might be going down on the other side of this couple inches of wood.. He gives it a minute and when there’s no response or the sound of two people scrambling to get dressed, he shoves his key in the lock and slowly opens the door. 

The living room comes into view as the door fully swings open and to Steve’s surprise it’s exactly as he remembers it when he left this morning– your favorite blanket draped over the back of the couch, his glasses that he claims he doesn’t need on the coffee table, and some of the various VHS tapes that Steve had nabbed back from his Family Video days in a pile on the side table. 

The apartment is eerily quiet save for the hum of the refrigerator and Steve comes to the conclusion that one of your friends has come and picked you up, because when you’re home it’s obvious. There’s always music playing or the TV is loudly playing some show you aren’t even watching– your presence is always known and right now all that lingers is reminders of you. 

He doesn’t think much more of it as he wanders down the hall and towards his room, but the sound that bounces off your four walls and through your door has Steve stunned and his feet cemented to the floor. 

“Oh my god!” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

From the moment you woke up this morning you’d been buzzing with anticipation, finally having the apartment to yourself in god knows how long, the new toy you’d picked up the other day burning a hole in your bedside drawer, and the fact that you haven’t had a good orgasm in ages– it had you wound tighter than a drum. 

It didn’t help that you’d slightly been edging yourself all morning, refusing to touch yourself, but constantly thinking about how good it was going to feel once you did. You could have jumped right into your bed and shoved your hand down your pants as soon as Steve left this morning, but this was more fun, and you knew the payoff for waiting would be worth it. 

It’s not until you find yourself squeezing your thighs together as you fold laundry that you finally cave. 

You grab your new vibrator from the drawer and get comfy on your bed as your heart nearly beats out of your chest from how worked up you are without even touching yourself yet. You’re still in your pajamas, a big t-shirt and shorts, but you keep them on to tease yourself just a little longer. The feeling of your fingertips tracing antagonizingly slow circles around your nipples through your thin t-shirt has a steady warmth spreading through your body and the ache between your plush thighs that much stronger. 

While your left hand still gives your nipples the attention they so desperately crave, your right travels down past your navel and in between your thighs. Your sleep shorts are thin and perhaps you hadn’t put any underwear on last night when you went to bed and maybe the ragged seam had been rubbing up against your clit all morning and maybe you did it on purpose so that when you finally caved just the slightest touch to yourself would have you gasping. 

Which is exactly what happens when your index and middle finger press down against your clothed core and the seam of your shorts rubs against that sensitive bundle of nerves. It feels so good and god you want nothing more than to just go crazy and bring yourself over the edge, but you’ve been so patient, and you’ve got all day to play with yourself. 

So why ruin the fun so prematurely? 

You start slow, the pads of your fingers rubbing small circles over the fabric while your other hand, that is now slipped under your shirt, pinches and gently tugs at your nipples, the both of them working in tandem. The warmth that radiates through you is intoxicating and it doesn’t shock you to feel the cotton of your shorts dampening in record time. You’d been working yourself up all morning and when your hand finally trails under the waistband of your shorts it’s a little obscene just how wet you are. 

Your shorts quickly get discarded, haphazardly thrown onto your floor, and then your shirt gets bunched up just enough to expose your tits to the cool air. The anticipation is burning through you like a wildfire and the only way to smother it is to make yourself come. 

Which is something you planned on doing– multiple times. 

Soft moans slip past your lips as your fingers rub tight little circles on your clit and as your eyes flutter closed your mind wanders to the one thing that you know will only amplify your pleasure.

Steve. 

You’d imagined one too many times, what it would be like to be the girl moaning underneath him, how it would feel to have his big warm hands caressing your body, to have him showering you in compliments and praises. 

Your fingers trail through your folds and down to your sopping wet cunt, circling the sensitive skin around your entrance with such a slow tortuous pace that it tears a whimper from you, hips bucking forward for something more. You know your fingers aren’t going to give you what you need, but you sink your index and middle finger in anyways, searching for that pleasure that you’ve never been able to give yourself. 

If only you had Steve’s long and thick fingers inside you right now, he’d surely have you grabbing at the sheets as he curled them just right, reaching that spot inside you that had you seeing stars. It wasn’t like you had much experience when it came to getting pleasure from your g-spot, considering the only person to ever find it was the girl you hooked up with last October, but you had confidence that Steve would have no issue. 

Just the idea of Steve pumping his fingers inside your tight cunt, stretching you out as he adds a third, it has you mewling. The squelching sounds of your own fingers pistoning into you fills the room and you could only imagine the dirty comment Steve would make about it. You knew he had a way with his words in the bedroom, you’d shamelessly listen through the walls on those nights when he’d bring home a girl on a whim, and you’d stored away those words for times like these. 

God, you’re so wet for me, aren’t you pretty girl?

You’re soaking my cock baby. 

Gonna make a mess all over my sheets aren’t you? 

But even with Steve’s dirty talk echoing around in your head, your fingers of course aren’t enough to bring you over the edge, and you’re hurriedly reaching for your vibrator, slick fingers fumbling with the button before it comes to life in your palm. 

The second you press it to your swollen clit it seems as if electricity shoots through you, pleasure coursing through every vein in your body, and you’ve never been more thankful to be home alone as you lose all composure. 

“Oh my god!” 

Your eyes are screwed shut, head thrown back against your pillow, and the prettiest sounds continue to slip past your lips as you increase the intensity level on the toy. 

It doesn’t take long at all for that all too familiar feeling to creep up on you, for the warmth that’s started low in your belly to spread throughout your body. When you take your vibrator off your clit and slowly trail it up your body all the way to your nipples and circle each of them with it you swear you lose all ability to breath for a second. 

Your chest heaves as you trail it back down your body and back to the sensitive pearl between your spread legs, increasing the intensity once again, which makes your chest heave even more. You’re teetering on the edge, the coil in your tummy on the verge of snapping, and all you can think about is Steve. 

How it sounded when he’d brought home Amanda a couple weeks ago– which is what had caused Eric to happen– how she’d moaned out his name laced with such pleasure that it made you squeeze your thighs together while you laid in bed. How she’d told him don’t stop and how she unapologetically let everyone know how good she was feeling. There was clearly no need for her to fake it. 

God you wanted to know what it was like to be pleased like that, to be taken care of in such a way by someone else that it had you practically incoherent. 

The bad thing was, you wanted that someone to be Steve, who was unfortunately your roommate and best friend. So, having unholy thoughts about him while you masturbated was just going to have to suffice. 

You click the intensity button once again and that is what finally brings you over the edge and turns you into a babbling mess, legs trembling, free hand clutching so tightly onto the sheets that your fingers cramp. 

“Oh my fucking god. Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you holler, pressing the toy harder against your clit as you ride out your orgasm, wishing it was Steve giving you it instead of this vibrator. “Please don’t stop, please, please.” 

Something mixed with greed and insanity takes over you and you press the intensity button again causing your leg to twitch and your hips to buck upwards, all while the vibrator is still glued to your clit. Your second orgasm crashes in fast, riding on the coattails of your first one, and it hits hard. 

“Oh fuck. Oh my god. Please Ste-”

You bite down on your fist, eyes rolling to the back of your head, all while muffled sobs fill your room. The vibrator gets tossed somewhere, on your bed or floor you aren’t sure, but your legs collapse out from under you and you lay flat on your bed, ears ringing with aftershocks coursing through you. 

On the other side of the door Steve is beside himself, his cheeks are flushed, and the semi he’s sporting is damn near a full erection at this point. He knew he should have swiftly turned around and left the second he realized what was happening, but he couldn’t, not when he’s imagined what you sounded like for some time now. What it sounded like when you were experiencing pleasure, what it sounded like when you came, and what it sounded like when you said his name. 

Alright so maybe he was getting ahead of himself, but Steve swears it sounded like you were about ready to moan his name, and you very well may have been getting ready to stay stop again, but he shamelessly hopes it was his name, because then he wouldn’t feel as dirty knowing you think about him when you touch yourself just like he does with you. 

God, you sounded so pretty though, and Steve can’t believe that those sounds came out of you. The girl who he wouldn’t even know was having sex unless he heard your headboard and the sound of the guy or you in a nonchalant way mentioning that the sex with whoever was shit. 

His heart is nearly beating out of his chest and his dick is achingly hard as he hears you coming down from what he could tell was two back to back orgasms. The way he can still hear little whimpers coming from you as you probably lay there spent, your inner thighs slick with your arousal, nipples still so sensitive and sore from you tugging on them. 

There were a million dirty thoughts swirling around in his head and he should feel ashamed, should feel like a creep for what he’s thinking, what he listened in on, but he doesn’t. He hasn’t for a long time when it came to you and he isn’t sure how he’s supposed to feel about that either. 

Steve’s startled out of his horny moral dilemma by the sound of your bed creaking and before he can get caught he’s swiftly darting into his room, grabbing what might be a dirty cut off t-shirt and shorts, and tip-toeing back down the hall and out the door. 

As soon as the driver’s side door of Steve’s truck slams shut (which is the only way to guarantee it’s actually shut after Dustin fucked around with it by swinging on it like he was five and now it’s never been the same since) he let’s out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in as his hands grip the steering wheel with such vigor that his knuckles are stark white. 

He quickly adjusts himself in his slacks, tucking his erection into the waistband of his boxers, and tries to think of anything other than the sound of your pretty little whimpers. His head smacks against the headrest as his cheeks puff up, blowing out yet another deep breath combined with an explicit of some sort. 

Steve takes one last look at the apartment, shoves the key in the ignition, and backs out of his parking space like his whole world hasn’t just flipped upside down. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s nearing seven-thirty by the time Steve trudges in through the front door in his cut off tee and shorts, sweaty and hot, and still thinking about what took place in this said apartment hours earlier. The remainder of the school day had been a slow type of torture he’d not wish upon his worst enemy and then he had to go coach baseball in the sweltering sun like his whole body wasn’t already on fire. 

You had occupied every square inch on his brain since he left the apartment earlier and at times it wasn’t even anything inherently sexual– it was just you. How he loved coming home everyday to you, how you knew what was wrong with him before he did sometimes, how you deserved to be with someone that could take care of you in a multitude of ways. 

And the sight that greets him as he enters your shared home does nothing to eradicate the overwhelming infiltration of you in his mind. You’re standing at the stove, comfy clothes already on, humming along to whatever Fleetwood Mac song is playing on the radio, and the unmistakable smell of his favorite meal wafts towards him. 

You turn around and the sight of Steve standing there startles you, causing you to jump slightly, then let out the prettiest laugh he thinks he’s ever heard, and it makes Steve’s heart do a traitorous thing.

He figured he’d make it all awkward seeing you for the first time after hearing and listening to what you were doing earlier, but it wasn’t the least bit awkward. It was like any other evening, except you were glowing more than usual, smiling at him like he’d personally given you those orgasms earlier and god as unhinged as it sounded he could only imagine what you looked like directly after sex. 

Which now has his dick doing a traitorous thing instead of his heart. 

“Hard practice?” you ask, eyeing how his biceps glisten with sweat and how he’s got his baseball cap on backwards to keep his hair out of his face. 

“Yeah, hot as hell out there today,” Steve replies, trying not to notice how you don’t have a bra on, how the window AC unit that you insist on running on full blast has your nipples poking through the thin cotton. 

“Well,” you start, before turning back to the stove to stir the boiling spaghetti noodles. “You’re in luck because dinner is almost ready and I’ve made your favorite. Should be done in a few, the chicken is broiling in the oven. I’m trying to get the cheese a little crispy just how you like.” 

“I’m gonna go take a shower real quick then.” 

You nod, not bothering to turn back to face him as you stir the sauce. “Alright, I’ll holler when it’s done.” 

Steve hurries down the hall towards the bathroom and quickly strips out of his sweaty practice clothes, making sure to put them in the hamper because he’s not a slob, and then gets in the shower before he loses his mind.

The cold water does nothing to smother the fire that’s ignited low in his gut and he can’t believe you making him god damn chicken parmesan has got his dick hard again. 

He really is a simple guy and the domesticality of it all does more for him than he’d like to admit. 

Steve knows he’s got to do something about his not so little problem and so he lets his mind focus solely on you as he wraps his hand around his aching cock. His fingers gently squeeze around his shaft and on the first upstroke his hips embarrassingly buck into his fist with no control as his head tips back against the shower wall. 

He fucks his fist with no abandon and when his thumb glides over his throbbing tip a broken moan slips out of him, bouncing off the tile and hopefully not out to the kitchen. His head is swarming with you and all he can think about is how pretty you sounded earlier, how he’d never expected you to be so loud, and it only makes him want to see how much louder you can get. 

He thinks about how he’d love nothing more than to thank you for making him his favorite dinner later by going down on you. To thank you for taking such good care of him, because you do without even realizing it, and as much as Steve is a provider, the kind of person that takes care of others because it’s who he is. Sometimes he needs to be taken care of too, and you do it so well that Steve doesn’t even realize he’s being taken care of, and to him that deserves a mind blowing orgasm or two. 

His chest heaves and he has to brace himself against the wall with his other hand as he continues to stroke himself, imagining it was your soft hands wrapped around him right now, and not his callused ones. 

You consume him entirely and he finds himself having to bite down on the bicep of his extended arm to muffle the moans and whimpers that want to come alive and live within the four walls of this tiny bathroom. 

He’s close, he can feel that sweet release sneaking up on him fast, and with one last stroke Steve comes so hard that he nearly draws blood from how hard he’s biting down on his arm, your name and profanities muffled against the tanned muscle. He paints the shower wall with his cum, stroking himself to damn near overstimulation, until he finally slumps against the wall behind him.

Exhaustion creeps in fast and he’s still trying to catch his breath when he hears a knock on the door. 

“Steve! Hurry up! Dinner is getting cold.” 

He swallows hard, heart nearly leaping out of his chest at the idea of you listening in on him like he had you, but he can’t let his mind go any further than that, can’t let you wait any longer. So, he rinses his cum off the tile wall and quickly finishes his shower. 

When he joins you a few minutes later at the tiny table in the kitchen, his hair still dripping wet onto the old Hawkins High Phys Ed shirt he threw on, and you immediately tease him about having to reheat his own food, but then grab the plate anyways and toss it into the microwave for thirty seconds. 

bitter was the best and only way to describe how steve harrington was feeling as he sank into the couch in your shared living room. he was watching some rerun of a film he’d seen a thousand times over with an uncomfortable pit in his stomach as he thought about the date you were currently on.

you’d been talking on the phone to robin about it all day. and unfortunately for him, your bedroom walls were thin. he could hear everything. how he was a little older, richer, and extremely built. it made him want to rip his ears off for the rest of the conversation.

being roommates with you was easy. you made it so easy to be comfortable and happy in this little apartment. you were sweet, considerate, and fun to be around. and one of his favorite bonuses was that you loved cooking and baking. that meant he always had some sort of home-cooked meal waiting for him when he got home from work with a tasty desert to follow.

you always did the dishes at the end of the week (not that there were many because you always did them after you cooked), kept the house clean, kept your music down, and helped him whenever he needed advice or needed to rant. you were always there for him no matter what.

but being roommates with you was so hard. not because you were hard to live with, obviously, because he was falling so hard for you. hearing you tell him about your dates, watching you get all pretty for another man, seeing you come back all cheesy and excited. it made his heard squeeze in his chest every time. because surely, that should be him.

the longer he thought about it, the more he wanted to just curl up and die. he stuffed a miserable handful of popcorn into his mouth and lousily chewed it, throwing his head back and wishing you’d just come home and say it was the worst date ever known to mankind.

almost as if he’d manifested it, he heard a soft knock at the door before hearing the knob turn carefully. he quickly swallowed down the snack in his mouth and sat up to look towards the front door. it opened slowly, like you were afraid he’d be sleeping, before you appeared with tears streaked down your cheeks and a permanent frown on your lips.

his heart snapped in two right then and there. “woah. hey, you okay?” he asked, throwing an arm over the back of the couch so he could turn and face you to talk to you clearer. “what happened?”

you let your purse fall from your hand onto the ground before sulking your way over to sit beside him, letting out a loud huff as you plopped down. “it was mortifying, stevie. i’m so embarrassed,” you muttered shyly and brought your hands up to cover your face. “just kill me already.”

a soft chuckle left his lips as he shifted his body towards you a little bit. “i’m sure it’s not worth dying over,” his voice was sweet and comforting, trying to gently coax out any sort of details from you. “talk to me. tell me what happened.”

you let out another sigh and closed your eyes to try and protect yourself from the reaction. “i couldn’t make him hard,” you blurted out.

steve’s eyes just about bulged out from his head. “what?” he asked, brows furrowed in towards each other. never mind the jealous surge in his chest, all he was focused on now was caring for you. “what do you mean?”

your cheeks blushed a deep shade of red from the mortification. finally, you turned to look at him. “the date was fine, right? everything was good— great even! then he said he wanted to take me back to his place and then we started making out and— and he just couldn’t get hard!” you explained in a quick ramble. “god, this is so embarrassing. i’ve blown guys before and this has never happened.”

his face scrunched up before he could stop it. he could feel that uncomfortable heat in his chest. jealousy? bitterness? anger? he wasn’t really sure right now. “hey, it’s not embarrassing. there’s a lot of different reasons that could’ve happened,” he said reassuringly. “were you two drinking?”

your brows furrowed slightly at that. “i mean— i guess, yeah. just a little bit,” you replied, picking up what he was starting to hint at.

“maybe it was the alcohol? drinking can make it harder to, y’know, get it up sometimes,” he explained awkwardly. “or maybe he’s on steroids. heard somewhere that that can make you real limp down there.”

now it was your turn to scrunch your face up in disgust. “ew, steve. don’t say it like that,” you groaned and stood up. reliving this conversation would make you cry some more if you had any tears left. “i haven’t even told you the worst part yet.”

his eyes scanned over your figure before deciding to follow you to your bathroom like he often did when you’d get up mid-story and start to wander. “what’s the worst part?” he asked timidly, closing the lid to your toilet before taking a seat on top of it while you took your makeup off.

“promise you won’t make fun of me?” you asked softly, not daring to look at him. you just continued carefully washing your face over the sink.

he was looking at you with so much love and adoration that it would’ve solved all of your worries the moment you even glanced at him. “i promise,” he said firmly. “whatever it is, i’m sure i’ve told you some stories that are way worse. i’m probably the last person allowed to judge.”

you wiped your face down with your towel before turning to face him. you could’ve screamed out of embarrassment just from recalling it. “he told me my boobs were weird.”

steve choked. like genuinely choked. “what?!” he blurted out, a mix of confusion and shock. “just like that? he just— he told you your boobs were weird?”

a small squeal left your lips at the reiteration of the worst sentence ever. seriously, you felt like dying. regret bubbled into your throat. “god, this is so humiliating. like, seriously.” you set the towel down on the drying rack and looked at yourself in the mirror. “i can never show my face out in public again. like— ugh! i mean, what the fuck. have you ever told a girl her boobs were weird?”

steve had a soft furrow between his brows, looking genuinely concentrated and concerned all at once. you couldn’t help but think he looked so cute. “uhh, no? i don’t think i’ve ever even seen boobs that looked weird,” he reasoned honestly. “boobs are boobs, y’know? like— i don’t know. i think they’re hot no matter what. i wasn’t aware there was a rule book for how boobs should look.”

your hands were resting on your hips as you analyzed him, looking for any sign that he was lying. he wasn’t. not one bit. suddenly, a new thought flickered through your head.

steve was hot, of course he was. you’d always thought so since you’d first signed that lease. he had that pretty smile that made you go stupid, a certain twinkle in his chocolate eyes, and a softness that made you blush every time. “i have an idea. but you have to be open minded.”

you literally watched steve gulp. hard. “and that is?”

“can i try something with you?” you blurted out before you had time to overthink it. “on you, i guess? you can say no! i won’t get offended or— or get all weird on you. i promise. i just… i wanna see if maybe i’ve been doing something wrong or…” you trailed off nervously, an aggressive blush coating your cheeks.

a sweet smile spread over his lips. you couldn’t tell whether it was a cocky one or a comforting one. you really hoped it was the second option. “yeah, if you’re okay with that.”

that was it? all you had to do was ask? “yeah, totally. it would give me some peace of mind,” you replied gratefully, trying not to give away how excited you truly were. “thank you so much, stevie. seriously. you’re doing me the biggest favor.”

steve wished you knew how big of a favor you were doing him actually. he’d spent countless nights hoping for this. he silently thanked every star he’d ever wished upon. “the pleasure’s all mine,” he said smoothly, standing up from his spot on the toilet seat. his eyes stayed locked on yours the entire time.

you’d be lying if you said that alone didn’t turn you on. his eyes were just so captivating. you made your way through the doorway and towards your bed, sitting and waiting expectantly for him to join you.

he was quick to follow and sit up against the headboard like he owned the space. it felt surprisingly natural. you shuffled a little closer before pausing. “is it okay if i kiss you? i just— i feel like maybe—“

his hand found your cheek to pause your nervous rambling with that same subtle but sweet smile on his lips. “c’mere,” he whispered, like speaking too loudly would ruin the moment.

you let him gently guide you closer to him before his pillowy lips met yours in a soft kiss, slowly testing the waters. surely he could hear how your heart was practically beating out of your chest now.

the hand on your cheek moved to hold the back of your neck while the other moved to hook around the back of your thigh to pull you into his lap. the new seat in his lap helped save your back from the uncomfortable position and awkward posture.

your lips moved in tandem like it was second nature, his tongue sliding across yours with a quiet groan spilling from him. the sound alone made heat rush through your body. your hands made their way into his hair to gently tug at the roots, pulling the sweetest moan from him.

this was certainly boosting your ego more than you’d like to admit. never would you have guessed he’d be so vocal.

the burn in your thighs grew more as the intensity increased, prompting you to allow yourself to fully sit in his lap. that’s when you felt it. one of the main reasons for this.

steve was hard. painfully so.

you could’ve swore he whimpered from the pressure of you on top of him. one of his hands, the one resting on your thigh, moved to your waist to pull you further into him until you were chest to chest. his scent was overpowering and intoxicating all at once. surely this night would actually kill you.

once you were sure the awkwardness had fully dissipated, you moved your lips down his jaw slowly and towards his neck, licking and sucking softly at the skin there. the way his hands squeezed at your hips, so responsive and needy, was enough to make you want to drop everyone else and stay here with him forever.

your hands made quick work of his shirt and mindlessly threw it somewhere on your floor as you kissed down his chest and to his waistband. it was hard to stay focused when he looked this pretty beneath you. pupils blown wide, lips swollen and slick, cheeks tinged pink, hair tousled and messy, chest heaving faster than he’d like. he looked absolutely wrecked and you hadn’t even gotten to the good part.

within a few seconds, his belt was off and you were laying between his legs helping him get his pants off until he was just in his boxers. even with the thin fabric on, you could see just how big he was.

you pressed a few soft kisses over the bulge before looping your hands into his waistband and tugging them down. a small gasp left at the sight of him. “oh my god.”

“what?” he asked, shifting slightly like he was scared he’d done something wrong. worry was visibly flooding his body. “is everything okay?”

you placed a hand on his thigh just above his knee to calm him down. “you’re jus’ huge, stevie,” you replied, borderline in awe. he was big and thick with the prettiest pink tip.

he let out a nervous laugh and exhaled the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. his body began to slowly relax against the sheets again as he stared down at you, his pretty brown eyes now glazed over completely.

you gently took his heavy length into your hand and began to press soft kisses up the underside of it. your palms and lips were so incredibly soft, it made a shiver run trough his body. he was solely focusing all of his energy on not blowing his load right now.

because at the end of the day, this wasn’t about him. it was about helping you figure out whatever it was that you needed clarity on. if you were to ask him, he’d say you already got your answer. but if you wanted to keep going, he’d say surely wouldn’t stop you.

not when it felt this good.

and definitely not when you looked this pretty between his legs. your eye were a little glassy as your lips stretched around his tip and sucked softly on it. one of his hands moved to your head, lightly tugging at the roots without pushing your head. he was letting you go at your own pace.

your thighs squeezed in a useless attempt to alleviate the growing ache between your legs as you took steve further into your mouth. you could see his stomach tense as he left out a quiet whimper. “oh—holy shit. feels s’good,” he slurred, completely drunk off of you already.

one of your hands pumped his length as you kissed down the shaft and gently took one of his balls into the warmth of your mouth, moaning as you sucked on the skin. the taste of him was something you were sure you wouldn’t get enough of.

“baby— mphm! slow down,” he moaned, throwing his head back against the headboard as his legs tensed. “your mouth— oh! feels like fuckin’ heaven. making me feel so good, honey.”

you pulled away for a second to show him a toothy grin, twisting your fist at the base of him. “yeah?” you teased, pressing sweet kisses to his tip before letting spit pool into your mouth and drip down his length to help provide some more slick.

steve nodded and scratched at your scalp, biting his lip so hard he could taste blood. “mhm,” he hummed in response. he smiled down at you and for a moment, you felt your heart stop. there were some strands of hair falling over his eyes, his cheeks pink, his lips red and swollen, and his chest heaving. you took him back into your mouth and bobbed your head up and down his length, massaging his balls at the same time. “so fuckin’ good.”

he was struggling to say the least. his stomach was tensing repeated, his fingers curling in your hair, moans spilling lewdly from his lips. and when you pushed yourself a little further and took almost all of him down your throat, he was squeezing everything in him to try and last just a little longer.

“oh my fuck. baby— you gotta stop,” he pleaded through his teeth with a whine, though his actions were working against him as his hips bucked up into the warmth of your mouth. “gonna come. oh! ‘m coming.”

and before you knew it, his hand was planted firmly on your head as he came down your throat, hips rocking lightly up into you. “ho—holy shit. fuck! i’m sorry. i’m so sorry,” he whimpered as more of his load poured down your throat while holding you in place.

you moaned at the taste, making his hips buck up even further at the vibration. you slowly pulled off of him when the ropes of cum came to a stop. you swallowed every last drop and kissed up his heaving chest and back to his lips.

his hands immediately found your hips and pulled you onto him to straddle him once again. “how was that?” you asked with a knowing grin, voice a little grainy from the strain on your throat moments earlier. your eyes held a new hunger that had him hardening between your thighs immediately.

he huffed out a laugh and tipped his head back. “fucking amazing,” he replied immediately with a dazed smile. “don’t think i’ve ever come that hard in my life. thought i was seeing stars for a minute there.”

you giggled as a bright blush creeped up your neck and onto your cheeks. “so you think i get an a plus then?”

he clicked his tongue and turned his head to look at you again, so much adoration and warmth behind his eyes. “an a plus doesn’t even do it justice,” he stated, pulling you a little closer to him. “that was fucking unreal.”

you let your head fall into the crook of his shoulder to try and hide your smile. he let you lean your weight against him, closing his eyes and taking in the familiar scent of your shampoo that he loved so much. the two of you stayed like that for a minute or so.

when you finally pulled back to look at him again, you swore you died right then and there. his eyes were half-lidded and he had this big toothy smile on his lips like a kid on christmas. you couldn’t help but lean closer and kiss him.

it was so sweet and tender and soft. not like the first one. neither of you were rushing or trying to prove a point. just present in the moment with each other. he moaned quietly when you licked into his mouth and allowed him to taste himself. he just couldn’t get enough of you.

his hands wandered down at tugged at your pretty shirt that hugged your figure in the best way. he could feel your hesitation, the comment from your date clearly affecting you more than you’d let on.

steve pressed sweet, loving kisses to your cheek, down to your jaw, down your neck, and to the skin of your shoulder as he helped unzip it blindly behind your back. your body tensed the slightest bit as he carefully pulled down the straps and tugged it off of you.

he was absolutely captivated by you and how gorgeous you were. he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone so beautiful in his life until now. you were crafted to absolute perfection. you could hear him swear under his breath as his gaze scanned over your bare chest. “these are what he called weird?” he asked, his hands sliding up your stomach to gently cup the soft mounds. “what a fuckin’ idiot.”

his lips pressed slow kisses into the skin of your sternum as he trailed his way down to one of your breasts, sucking on the skin lightly enough to pull a reaction from you without leaving marks. even though he so desperately wanted to. your hands moved to tangle in his hair, lightly tugging when he began working his tongue over your nipple. “oh! stevie— hmph, feels good.”

he paused momentarily to smile up at you, completely dazed and enamored by you. “yeah? tell me what you need, honey.”

“want you to keep going,” you almost begged, pushing at his head the slightest bit to get his lips back on you. and he was sucking at your breasts again in an instant, groaning against the skin like he was tasting something extravagant. “and— fuck— need you inside me.”

you’d been subconsciously rocking your hips against his length this entire time and you were almost positive he could feel your wetness through your underwear. “fuck,” he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes for a quick second to recollect himself. “need you to tell me if you wanna stop at any point, ok?”

you nodded quickly, biting at your lip and humming in agreement. you reached between your legs to pull your underwear aside and give his length a few strokes, spreading the precum that had beaded at the tip. you could hear a strangled noise in his throat when you lined him up with your core.

his hands quickly bunched your skirt up around your waist and planted then firmly on the bare skin there as you sank down so he could get the best view. his mouth dropped open immediately as he watched his tip disappear into your weeping hole, your cunt greedily attempting to suck in even more of him.

you allowed yourself to take him in a little further before you were mewling at the fullness you already felt. it was like you were being split open. “stevie— fuck. you’re so big,” your eyes squeezed shut when you hit a small point of resistance. “mhpm. can’t take it. ‘s too much.”

steve’s hand pressed into your lower back to hold you close against him just before he flipped the two of you over and used his other hand to keep himself from leaning his full body weight onto you. “oh, i know, honey. already takin’ me like such a good little slut,” he cooed against your chest, lapping his tongue over your nipple and softly biting the skin around it. “gonna make it fit inside this pretty cunt.”

his lips trailed up the side of your neck and back to yours, pulling you into a searing kiss while you adjusted. he was giving you these shallow, barely there thrusts and slowly pushing into you more each time. you could feel your eyes stinging at the pain.

the hand no holding him up snaked between your bodies and rubbed deliberate circles over your clit. “shit. so tight and warm. she’s jus’ fuckin’ crying for me, huh?” he mumbled against your mouth, biting at your lower lip.

you could feel the slow slide of hot tears run down your cheek as he bullied his cock further into you with each thrust. it wasn’t as painful now, but the slight pressure and burn was definitely still there. and you felt so incredibly fully. your arms moved to wrap around his neck and pull him further on top of you, his weight grounding you in a way. “holy fuck, stevie,” you whimpered through your cries. “you—you’re so deep.”

he peppered sweet kisses along the side of your face and neck. “i know, baby. i know,” he cooed, rubbing quicker circles so you’d open up for the last few inches of him. “this greedy little pussy’s jus’ suckin’ me back in. taking my cock like a good girl. fuck. y’look so pretty like this, honey. all needy and soft f’me.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words. you would’ve never guessed that steve could be so good with words during sex. after one more slow drag of his hips, you finally felt his skin press flush to yours, now fully seated inside of you. “oh, stevie,” you cried, pushing lightly at his stomach like you were trying to create some room to alleviate the pressure in your stomach. “so full. fuck— ‘s too big.”

“need to stop?” he asked, his eyes wide and cautious as he searched your teary ones. his hand that was planted by your head moved to gently wipe at the ones that escaped.

even though it felt like you were actually being split open, it felt fucking amazing. you shook your head and bit down on your bottom lip. “don’t— don’t wanna stop,” you whispered. “jus’ go slow. please?”

steve flashed you a sweet smile and pulled your lip from between your teeth to lay soft kisses over it. he sat back up on his heels and ran his hands down your torso, feeling the faint bump of skin there. he pressed down on it lightly only to hear a loud mewl from you. “shit, honey. can see my cock inside your fuckin’ stomach,” he cursed, completely focused on the imprint of him.

he grabbed your hand and let your fingers run over the bulge in your stomach, grinning as he watched something akin to pure desire wash over your face. “you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, picking up your legs and placing them over his shoulders as he leaned back down to kiss you. “my perfect girl.”

his lips were back on yours immediately as he swallowed down your moans. you were a complete wreck. the new angle pushed him even further in a way that felt like heaven without any aching. your nails dug into his firm biceps when he began to slowly pull out and roll his hips back into yours.

his tongue soothed over yours and gently sucked on the muscle like he had all the time in the world. to him, nothing else mattered except you right now. and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure you knew that.

one of your hands snaked up his shoulders as he and into his hair, lightly pulling at the strands to make him shudder. once he was sure you weren’t in any sort of pain anymore, his pace began to quicken slightly.

steve pulled back the slightest bit to look at you, smiling at your fucked out state. he thought you looked like an actual angel right now with you pink cheeks, puffy lips, hair falling around your face perfectly, and your lips parted as moans slipped out. he just wanted to keep you here like this forever. “so beautiful, baby. such a gorgeous girl,” he whispered softly, pecking your lips again like he couldn’t get enough of you.

you felt heat creep up your neck as you let your eyes fall shut. you were sure you’d never felt this good in your life. especially when one of his hands came down to rub at your clit. “holy shit— stevie! i’m so close. please. don’t stop. oh fuck. please don’t stop,” you babbled mindlessly, feeling completely dumb beneath him.

he smiled and laid a sweet kiss to your tense calf beside his head. “yeahh, that’s it. i’ve got you, honey,” he said softly. “let me have it. wanna feel you come around my cock.”

you swore you’d seen stars right then and there. your legs began to shake with one particular thrust against that sensitive spot inside and steve caught on almost instantly. his hips angled forward to keep drilling at that spot, making you cry out as the edges of your vision blurred. “o—oh! i’m coming. fuck— i’m coming, stevie!”

his head tipped back when he felt your cunt spasming around him, greedily sucking him back in with each thrust. “shit! such a good girl for me, baby. mphm. your cunt’s like fuckin’ heaven,” he slurred, completely drunk off of you. “pretty cunt’s squeezing me so tight. oh fuck. gonna milk me dry, honey.”

you could feel hit tears run down the sides of your face with overstimulation. he was hitting all of the right spots like he’d known your body for years. “please! want it so bad,” you cried out. “in—inside me. need to— ah!— need to feel you.”

his hips and rhythm faltered at your words, suddenly making his thrusts erratic and much sharper. your nails dug into his shoulder as he pounded you into the mattress. “ho—holy shit!” he groaned as he pressed his hips tight to yours and let go.

warm ropes of his release filled you up in the most delicious way. he sat up and back enough to let your legs down from his shoulders, the limbs feeling like jelly immediately. he didn’t pull out. instead, he rolled onto his side next to you, letting you do the same so you were facing him. he grabbed your thigh and pulled it over his hip, pressing his cock perfectly into your cervix.

your body immediately began to relax in the embrace of his arms around you. it was like your brain had completely shut off and allowed him to take over for you. his hands rubbed soft, slow laps up and down your back to soothe you as you two laid in silence for some time.

steve was the first to break it. “don’t see him again.”

his voice was quiet but the intensity in it was unmistakable. “what?” you whispered, voice a little more hoarse now as you tilted your head on the pillow and looked up at him.

“don’t go out with that guy again,” he doubled down, his eyes much softer when he looked down at you. he just wanted to kiss you again until you couldn’t breathe. “jus’ stay here with me instead.”

you let out a soft breath of humorless laughter to hide the way his words got your hopes up, assuming he was making some stupid joke. “steve, what are you talking about? you know i don’t like casual.”

his brows furrowed like he was genuinely confused by that. “who said anything about casual?”

now it was your turn to look at him like he was the crazy one. “you only ever do casual,” you replied as if it were obvious.

one of his hands moved to gently wipe a piece of hair from your forehead so he could see your face a little better. “this doesn’t have to be casual,” he said surely, looking between the two of you. “i wanna be with you. and— and not just because of this.” the air in the room shifted immediately. “i haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you since i moved in.”

the loud ringing of the phone on the bedside table broke the silence. and somehow, steve knew who it was immediately. it made his blood boil. “answer it.”

your face scrunched up in confusion. “what? why would i—“ but he was already pulling out of you and sitting up to reach for the phone. you whined at the loss but quickly quieted down when he picked up the phone. you could hear the familiar voice on the other end. steve handed you the receiver. “hello?”

“hey, baby. i just wanted to call and check in on you after tonight,” brad, the man you were out with earlier. “i know it went a little rough, huh?”

steve was shuffling over top of you, pressing quiet kisses to your neck and down towards your chest. your eyes widened at him, silently pleading with him. for what? you weren’t sure. he nodded to the phone, prompting you to reply. “oh, uhm, yea—yeah. it was, uh, it wasn’t the best.”

brad let out a nervous laugh. “yeah, you could say that,” he replied awkwardly. “look, i’m really sorry. i just— i’m not really used to being with women like you.” steve could hear the conversation loud and clear as he kissed over your stomach and laid down comfortably between your legs. he rolled his eyes at the comment and licked a long stripe up your dripping slit. “you’re just so young and… i don’t know. i guess i’m just used to being with women who have a little more— y’know.”

you knew what he meant. and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt your feelings a little bit. but with steve lapping at his own cum dripping from your cunt, you couldn’t find it in yourself to dwell on it. “oh,” you replied breathily, grabbing onto his hair with your free hand. “right. makes sense.”

brad sighed on the other end, giving you enough time to pull the handset away from your face and cover the transmitter so he couldn’t hear you. “stevie, fuck, you— you have to stop,” you whined, moaning when he sucked on your clit. he looked up at you through his messy hair and shot you a wink when he heard the voice calling out to you again.

you brought it back to your ear and began twirling the coiled cord between your fingers to try and distract yourself. “you still there?” he asked.

“mhm,” you hummed, eyes fixated on steve. his were shut now as he devoured your cunt like a starved man. you’d never seen someone enjoy this as much as he was right now.

there was another awkward pause from brad. “well, i was thinking,” he began. “and y’know, with me being pretty busy and all, it wouldn’t be too much of a bother for me if you wanted to go out again.”

your face quickly contorted into one of disgust, as did steve’s. he looked genuinely pissed off now. a new fire ignited in him as he licked and sucked at your cunt with more pressure than you could handle at the moment. his hands hooked around your thighs to pull you even closer, moaning softly into your folds.

a squeal escaped you just before you could slap a hand over your mouth. “baby? you there?” he repeated again.

your hand moved down to shove at steve’s head in a useless attempt to get him to slow down. instead, his tongue pressed into your weeping hole. “yeah, mphm! i’m here. sorry, i just— i stubbed my toe.” you bit down on your lip hard to keep the scream bubbling in your throat at bay. “uhm, so about that— that date. i jus—“

“is everything okay?” he asked bluntly. you could hear him pacing back and forth on the other end.

you really hoped he couldn’t hear the obscene sounds of steve between your thighs. “yeah! yes, you kind of, um, caught me at a bad time,” you lied through clenched teeth, staring down at your roommate. “i was just… mphm— i was working out.”

he seemed to have accepted that answer enough to explain why you’re breathing was so erratic and why you could barely speak. “you home alone? i could come over and make it up to you—“

“no!” you answered a little too quickly, covering your mouth when steve slid two of his fingers inside of you and massaged your gummy walls. “my, uhm— my roommate is home. and about that date,” you trailed off and pulled the phone away for a second to let out a shaky breath as your stomach tensed. “i don’t think it’s— it’s not gonna happen.”

you could hear him scoff on the other line. “what? are you serious? it was just one bad night. i mean— i took you out to dinner, i paid, i took you back to my place. i did everything i was supposed to and—“

if steve wasn’t making you feel unreal right now, you were sure you’d go off on him for being so stupid and arrogant. you couldn’t find it in you to care enough about anything other than your roommate. “look i— hmph! it’s not gonna happen and i really, really need to go.”

you carelessly jammed the phone back into the cradle on your bedside table and ran your fingers through steve’s hair, tugging at his roots when his fingers hit that sensitive spot inside you. “stevie! i’m close— so fuckin’ close!”

he looked up at you at grinned, sucking on your clit and laving his tongue over it with a pressure that made you see stars. “tastes like’ heaven, honey. such a fuckin’ loser to let you go.”

your head tipped back into the pillow as your legs shook, locking around his head when the tight coil snapped in your stomach. his hands held your thighs spread open, fucking you through it so deliciously. “that’s it, sweet girl. soak my fuckin’ hand,” he cooed, kissing along the inside of your thighs to help you come down. “there you go. so goddamn perfect f’me.”

your body was completely destroyed now, laying limp and exhausted in your bed. he slowly pulled his fingers from you and sucked them clean, moaning at the taste of your juices. his chin was glistening with your release which he didn’t seem to mind at all.

steve’s lips ghosted a trail of kisses up your stomach, chest, neck, and back to your lips. his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you in closer to him, throwing the blanket over you in the process. he couldn’t help but smile at your sleepy state. “sooo… no more dates?” he asked playfully, voice barely above a whisper.

you let out a giggle and shifted further into him, resting your head on his chest. “god, you’re such a fool, harrington.”

“It’s fine,” you lie as you pick up a few random tapes and pretend to consider them. You weren’t fine. You were trying not to cry.

Robin can tell she’s upset you and genuinely feels awful. The cassette tape in her hands clatters onto the table as she rushes to hug you. The telltales signs you were holding back tears were there—your eyes shining, bottom lip quivering and the way you went quiet.

You should be used to Steve’s casual dating by now. Should be used to the fact that he was fucking women who aren’t you. But honestly? You weren’t used to it at all.

And so, you rode home on your bike that night, crying as you tried not to imagine Steve and Emma—probably hooking up in the back of his beloved Beamer.

But now? Only three days later—Emma Stevens and Steve were the least of your worries.

The Upside Down always came knocking. Because of course it fucking did.

And this situation you found yourself in with none other than Steve himself—well, you were sure you weren’t going to make it out of this alive.

The room you were in—seemingly a boardroom of such in the upper floors of Hawkins Laboratory—was slowly but surely filling with a sludgy liquid that tried to keep you from moving.

You had no idea what was happening—you figured it had something to do with that energy shield (or whatever Dustin had theorised it was) you had just shot. But the guilt you’re feeling as you realise that you’ve condemned not only yourself but Steve to certain death—well, it’s all consuming.

“On the table,” Steve instructs, tugging on your hand so you follow—having to pull your legs up in order to move through the sludge.

Steve makes sure you go first—hoisting you up onto the table by your waist. You could have easily done it yourself but you took any and every opportunity—selfishly—for that man to touch you.

The table offered some reprieve—both of you free of that strange liquid that surrounded the table like an ominous ocean.

Steve looks at you—a look on his face you had seen only a few times before, one that plainly told you he was scared. “Wh-what do we do?” He asks you.

You look around the room, frantic—at the greyish liquid drawing ever closer—at the hole in the wall that had only made the situation worse as more and more sludge poured in—and finally, you look up at the gaping hole in the ceiling that was too high for either of you to reach and your only way of escape.

Steve is still looking at you—the way he’s always looked at you. Expectantly. Waiting to hear your plan. In the few years you had been falling into the Upside Down together, you always had a plan. Always one step ahead. But now—

“Help!” You yell out. “Help!”

And it’s that moment that Steve realises he was going to die. That if you didn’t see a way out of this? He knew there wasn’t one.

“Help!” He joins you, yelling in the hopes that Dustin, Nancy—hell, even Jonathan—would hear you. Though he knew, deep down, the trio were too many floors down to hear you both.

The two of you yell out, desperately. Trying your dammdest to live—to make it out of this alive. But as your voice cracks and Steve keeps yelling, you realise that no one was coming. That Dustin, Nancy and Jonathan couldn’t hear you. That you and Steve were going to die. Slowly, probably suffocating from the sludge. You thought about how painful it would be for that to fill your lungs.

“Steve—ju-just—stop,” you tell him, reaching out to tug his sleeve to get his attention. “They can’t hear us.”

Steve’s in denial. He shakes his head—fucking terrified—as he keeps on yelling anyway.

“DUSTIN! NANCY! JONATHAN! FUCK—ANYBODY—HELP US! HELP—”

“Steve!” You yell at him, your voice breaking as the tears finally start to fall. “Stop. They’re not—they’re not coming.”

Steve looks at you—at your tears. At the look on your face and he knows you’re right. Knows there isn’t a way out of this. Knows that you both aren’t going to be saved. That your will to live alone couldn’t save you.

“We—we gotta try (y/n),” he says finally and you feel your heart do that funny thing it always did around Steve because fuck, he had so much fight in him. Such a will to live and you feel awful that this was your fault. That you were the one to shot the giant ball of matter.

You just look at him and shake your head, tears already spilling down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Steve—I didn’t know that would happen—“

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve says gently, leaning closer to you and placing a hand on your knee. “Don’t cry. Please. You didn’t know. It’s not your fault.”

“But it is—”

“It’s not,” he cuts across you. You know he’s just saying it to make you feel better. But the matter of the fact is, if you hadn’t shot that thing, you both would still be up on the roof. Not stuck in this room, waiting to die. But you didn’t want the last few minutes of your life to be spent arguing with Steve’s over whose fault it was. So, you just nod and wipe away your tears.

It’s quiet then. Just you, Steve and both of you quietly accepting your fate.

“Wish I could—you know, listen to like one more song before—” Steve cuts himself off as he swallows. Not looking at you. His hand still on your knee.

“What song?” You ask in a quiet voice.

Steve looks at you and—you see the tears in his eyes for the first time. After everything you two had been through together with every Upside Down ‘adventure’ (because was several near death experiences really an adventure?)—you hadn’t ever seen him cry. Until now. But you don’t comment on it. You just look at him, waiting for his response.

“Take On Me,” he says, the corners of his mouth twitching.

You can’t help it, you laugh—despite the situation you both were in. It was just…so quintessentially Steve that you couldn’t help it.

“Haven’t you listened to that song enough?” You ask him, because Steve couldn’t seem to go a day without listening to that song. Robin had even made it a rule at the station that he was only allowed to play it three times a week, after you had received multiple complaints from listeners who counted a whopping eighteen plays of the track in a single week.

“Nah,” Steve says with a shake of his head, sniffling a little, “I bet you’d pick Edge of Seventeen.”

You bite back a smile—looking over at Steve with tears still falling.

“It’s a good song,” you say simply. Steve squeezes your knee.

You look away from him and your eyes dart around at the room again. You feel Steve squeeze your knee again. Grounding.

“Hey, look at me,” Steve says gently and you feel his fingers gently graze your cheek as he turns your head to look at him. Not at the reminder of your unfortunate fate. “Focus on me—”

You could feel your heart hammering in your chest. The gentle reminder that you were alive. Alive. Alive.

You hadn’t ever given much thought to it. Your heart that beat to keep you alive. But feeling it racing against your chest like that? Like it was desperate for you to live—you were grateful for it. Hadn’t ever been so grateful to be alive as you were now.

“I don't want to die, Steve,” you burst out in a panic, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I don't—”

“Neither do I,” Steve admits in a quiet voice. His hand on your knee tightening as his honeyed brown eyes flicker to meet yours, his other hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. “But I’m here, yeah? You won’t be alone.”

Your bottom lip quivers and you nod as a small sob escapes you because you were going to die. You were going die with the man you loved. And he still didn’t know—

“I wanna go first,” your murmur quietly. “I don't want to live in a world where Steve Harrington doesn't exist.”

“Don't,” Steve breathes out, jaw tense. Eyes shining and shaking his head. “Don't say that—”

“—and I’m s-sorry that it’s now that I’m telling y-you but I can’t die without you knowing,” you stutter out through shuddering breaths.

Steve looks back at you, lips parted and hanging on your every word. Unsure if he wanted you to keep talking or stop.

“I love you, Steve,” you tell him finally—your face wet with tears. “I always h-have.”

The silence you’re greeted with is the loudest you had ever heard. Your heart still hammering against your chest. Desperate to keep you to alive as death came—the liquid creeping ever closer with every second.

“Fuck—” Steve finally says, the fingers on your shoulder twitching as he shifts closer to you. “I had—I had no idea. And I’ve been—fuck—I’ve been screwing around for months—”

“—it’s okay,” you interrupt him with a shake of your head. “Really, Steve. It’s fine—”

“No. It’s not fine,” Steve says firmly, jaw set and his eyes roaming your face like he was seeing it for the first time. “Because I—shit—I love you too and I—I should've—fuck—I should've asked you out. Should've just done it instead of fucking wasting time. Should have taken you out for milkshakes or some shit—”

“Milkshakes?” You repeat, smiling a little. It was bittersweet. Because he wasn’t running. Didn’t find the idea of you being in love with him repulsive. And he said he loved you too.

Steve lifts his head up and catches your smile and fuck, if he does die—he wants your smile to be the last thing he sees.

“Yeah. Milkshakes,” Steve breathes out, “and bowling.”

“I would have kicked your ass at bowling,” you say, smiling at him as tears continue to fall. “Maybe would have let you get to second base too.”

Steve laughs—despite fucking everything, he's laughing.

“Shit, (y/n),” Steve breathes out, his forehead resting against yours, breath fanning your face. “You can't say that shit to me right now.”

“And I would have destroyed you at bowling. Would have worn a new shirt, bought you the biggest damn milkshake,” Steve's voice falters slightly, going quiet as his eyes flicker up to yours. “Would have kissed you stupid after.”

You smile at each other and for a moment—it’s just you and Steve. No grey sludge that was your death sentence around you.

“Fuck—we screwed up here,” Steve says and you laugh as you cry and suddenly he’s laughing too. You shouldn’t be. You’re about to die. It’s not funny, not in the slightest. But this moment? It didn’t feel scary. Or like death was around the corner. You just felt safe.

“Think we have time for me to kiss you stupid?” Steve murmurs quietly, fingers brushing along your jaw before his gaze falls onto your lips.

“Yeah,” you whisper back, eyes meeting his. Feeling his breath hot against your skin. “There’s time.”

He doesn’t wait a second.

You let out a noise of surprise as Steve's lips descend onto yours. There's no gentleness. No hesitation. Just years of tension and unspoken words between the two of you as your hands find the front of his jacket and tug him closer. Needing him so desperately as you kiss him back.

He groans—fucking groans—against your lips, his tongue tracing the seam of your mouth and groaning again when you part your lips for him. His hands scramble to find your waist and he licks into your mouth and in his desperation, begins to press you back against the table.

Your hand shoots out to stop yourself from tumbling back too quickly from Steve's eagerness. But instead of the gooey liquid you're expecting to feel—you feel something solid.

There's a wet noise as you pull away from him. His lips chase after yours.

“S-Steve,” you gasp. “Lo-look—”

Steve’s confused—face flushed, eyes wide and lips still wet from your kiss. “What? Was it too much or—”

It’s then he sees the solidified grey sludge. It had set just beneath the table.

“Does this mean—”

You don’t wait—you lean over the table and place both your hands on the solid surface. It doesn’t crack. Doesn’t budge in the slightest. You start to stand, you needed to be sure—

“(y/n), be careful! It might—”

But you ignore him. You stand up on the solidified sludge and—it’s a solid as concrete.

Steve looks at you for a moment that felt like a lifetime. And then—

He scrambles to his feet—his arms wrapping around your waist as he lifts you half off the ground.

“We’re okay,” he breathes out as you sob in relief, his free hand cupping the back of your head like he needed to touch you. Needed the reminder that he was alive. That you were alive.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

“We’re okay,” he repeats, setting you down and cupping your face between his hands as he wipes away your tears. “We’re okay—fuck—we’re okay.”

You don’t even have time to breathe before he’s kissing you again.

Soft. Gentle. Like he had all the time in the world. And now, he supposed you did. Had time for that date. Had time for milkshakes, bowling and maybe even second base.

“M’gonna—” Steve mumbles against your lips as your hands fist the front of his jacket. “—kick your ass at bowling.”

“Shut up,” you murmur back before pulling away and smiling up at him like this was the beginning of something, “you’re gonna be a gentlemen and let me win.”

Steve scoffs, his hands moving back down to your waist and squeezing gently.

“Oh, absolutely not if you’re offering to go to second base—”

You whacked him on the arm, feeling elated as he laughed. He ducked his head down to kiss you again and—

The sound of banging from the wall behind you is what pulls you away from each other. Steve doesn’t think as he pulls you behind him. Protective. It was so Steve it made your heart do funny things in your chest.

The banging continues. The drywall cracks. Dust fills the air and—

“What the fuck happened in here?”

You had never been so glad to hear Jonathan Byers’ voice.

Through the hole in the wall—seemingly made by the fire extinguisher in Jonathan’s hand—you see Nancy, Jonathan and Dustin. Looking at you and Steve and how close you were standing. His hands on your waist.

“Are we interrupting something?” Nancy asks with a small smile. “Or do you guys want to get out of here?”

You and Steve look at each other, adrenaline pumping through the both of you—having been so close, so certain you were going to die that it's hard to even stand still.

"Yeah," Steve says finally, keeping his arm around you and pulling you close. “Let’s get out of here. We’ve got a date to go on.”

dividers by the lovely @zclhs

the whole thing had started because your best friend had made the mistake of asking a simple question.

“who’s the biggest flirt in this room?”

immediately, everyone’s eyes had landed on you.

“oh, that’s easy,” one of your friends had laughed, pointing across the room. “it’s her.”

“absolutely not,” you protested, already smiling.

“absolutely yes,” another replied. “you literally spend half your time talking about how irresistible you are.”

you gasped dramatically, clutching your chest as everyone started laughing.

“first of all, confidence is attractive.”

“that’s what confident people say,” someone muttered.

“because it’s true.”

from the other end of the couch, joe watched the entire exchange with an amused smile, one arm resting along the back cushion behind you.

big mistake.

because the second you noticed him smiling, you pointed directly at him.

“see? joe gets it.”

“do i?” he asked.

“of course you do.”

“interesting.”

you narrowed your eyes at the obvious challenge in his voice.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

joe just shrugged.

“nothing.”

everyone immediately started making noises.

“oh, no,” javi groaned. “he’s doing the thing.”

“what thing?” you asked.

“the thing where he acts innocent when he’s about to annoy someone.”

joe looked deeply offended.

“i would never.”

“liar,” wes said.

the conversation moved on after that, but not before you had spent another twenty minutes confidently explaining exactly how charming you supposedly were and how joe had clearly fallen for you first.

every time someone challenged you, you doubled down.

every time someone laughed, you became even more dramatic.

and every single time, joe simply sat there listening with that infuriating little smile.

the one that said he knew something you didn’t.

by the time the night was over, you were determined to wipe that look off his face.

unfortunately for you, the smile only got worse during the drive home.

“what?” you finally demanded.

joe kept his eyes on the road.

“nothing.”

“joe.”

“what?”

“you’ve been smiling for twenty minutes.”

“have i?”

you crossed your arms, “you’re annoying.”

“that’s not new.”

you rolled your eyes and turned toward the window, pretending to be offended while secretly fighting your own smile.

when you finally got home, you barely made it through the front door before joe spoke again.

“you know,” he started casually, setting his keys down on the counter, “you talk a lot.”

you spun around immediately.

“excuse me?”

“i’m just saying.”

“you’re just saying what?”

his mouth twitched.

“that you spend an impressive amount of time talking yourself up.”

you stared at him.

“wow.”

“what?”

“wow.”

he laughed.

“there it is.”

“there what is?”

“that look.”

you pointed a finger at him.

“i don’t have a look.”

“you definitely have a look.”

“and you definitely have a superiority complex.”

joe laughed harder.

“see?”

“see what?”

“you always get defensive.”

you took a step forward.

“i do not.”

“you do.”

“i don’t.”

“you do.”

“joe.”

“yes?”

you hated how entertained he looked.

you hated how unfairly attractive he looked standing there with messy hair and that stupid grin.

and judging by the way his eyes flickered briefly to your lips, he knew exactly what he was doing.

“you think you’re funny,” you said.

“i know i’m funny.”

you groaned.

“you’re impossible.”

“and yet you’re still here.”

your breath caught slightly.

just enough for him to notice.

because of course he noticed.

the smile on his face softened.

the teasing was still there, but something warmer settled underneath it.

something that immediately made your stomach flip.

“what?” you asked quietly.

joe took a slow step closer.

“nothing.”

“joe.”

“you talk a big game sometimes.”

your heart skipped.

“and?”

another step.

“and i think it’s cute.”

you rolled your eyes despite the heat rushing to your face.

“cute?”

“very cute.”

“that’s not what everyone else would say.”

“good thing i don’t care what everyone else thinks.”

the room suddenly felt much smaller.

much quieter.

you swallowed.

“you’re still annoying.”

“probably.”

“and smug.”

“definitely.”

you shook your head.

“i can’t stand you.”

joe smiled softly.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“that’s a shame.”

“why?”

his gaze dropped to your lips again.

“because i was thinking about kissing you.”

your breath caught completely this time.

“you think too much.”

“maybe.”

“and you’re still smug.”

“maybe.”

you tried to come up with another comeback.

you really did.

but the second he stepped closer, every thought disappeared.

and when you finally closed the distance yourself, joe’s smile vanished beneath the kiss.

“you’re. so. impossible” you said between the kiss.

he pulled back just enough to grin against your mouth, one hand curling warm around your waist to hold you steady, thumb brushing slow over the curve of your hip.

his breath came a little fast, the familiar smug glint softened by what’s still there, bright and unmissable.

“you’ve already said that” he kissed the corner of your mouth again, slow and teasing. “but you keep kissing me back. so who’s really the fool here?”

“fuck you”

he barked a laugh against your neck, teeth scraping lightly against your pulse before he pulled back to look at you.

his pupils were blown wide.

that signature smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

his fingers thread tight through your hair, tilting your head up.

“mmm. patience. you gonna let me, or are you just gonna keep running your mouth?”

you arched into him, your hands fisting the front of his soft knit sweater, and his smile deepened when your breath hitches in your throat.

he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below your jaw, his other hand slipping lower to grip your waist.

“c’mon. use your words. i know you’ve got ‘em.”

you sighed, “just—”

his thumb brushed slow over your bottom lip, pressing down just hard enough to make you go quiet, his gaze dark and warm all at once.

he leaned in, his mouth brushing yours instead of kissing, the heat of his breath fanning over your skin.

“just what, baby?” he teased, the nickname slipping out soft and low.

“c’mon, tell me what you want.”

after some seconds of debating yourself in your own mind you finally whispered, “fuck me.”

he groaned low in his throat, kissing you hard and hungry, one knee shifting between your thighs to press up against you.

his hands roam slow over your sides, calloused fingertips catching on the hem of your shirt.

“good girl,” he murmurs against your mouth, smiling when you shiver. “was that so hard to say?”

you rolled your eyes.

he catchedyour wrist before you can move away, laughing softly as he pins it gently above your head, his body pressing full against yours, warm and solid against the wall.

his smile softens, all the smugness melting into something quieter. “don’t roll your eyes at me now, baby. you said what you wanted.”

he noticed the way your breath catches at the pressure against the wall, and his free hand slides up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheekbone slow and gentle.

the quiet intensity in his gaze makes your skin prickle.

“you still gonna act like you don’t want this?” his voice drops to a rough murmur, mouth hovering just over yours. “be honest.”

“i don’t want it against the wall.”

he huffed a warm laugh against your neck.

releasing your wrist to hook both hands under your thighs and lift you clean off the floor.

your legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

he shifted toward the nearby unmade bed, his smile tugging sharp and hungry. “good thing i had other plans anyway, baby.”

“what plans?”

he dropped you gently onto the soft mattress, leaning over you to brace his hands on either side of your shoulders.

his hair falling in a messy fringe over his forehead.

he grinned, slow and teasing, and pressed a slow kiss right between your collarbones. “you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”

“fuck…okay”

his grin widened at how breathless you already sound.

his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to brush warm against the soft skin of your stomach.

he left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your sternum, pausing just above your waistband to look up at you through dark lashes.

“okay what? say it again. i wanna hear you.”

“i’ll wait and see.”

he chuckled again, low and rough against your skin, his fingers fumbling just slightly with the button of your jeans before pausing.

his eyes flicking up to yours to check.

when you nod, he tugs the fabric down slow, his thumb brushing soft over your inner thigh.

“atta girl,” he murmurs, leaning back in to kiss you slowly and deep. “i’ll make it worth the wait.”

the calloused pad of his thumb brushes slowly over your skin, making you shiver beneath him, and he hums against your mouth, one arm sliding under your back to pull you closer.

his hair falls to tickle your cheek, and his smile turns softer, warmer against your lips.

“that’s it. just relax. let me take care of you, yeah?”

your breath hitches when his fingers brush higher, and he swallows the soft sound with a deep kiss, his free hand tangling in your hair to hold you steady.

the room feels warm, almost too warm, and the only noise is the quiet rustle of fabric and your uneven breathing.

“there we go,” he murmured, kissing your jaw slowly.

he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his pupils blown wide with want, that familiar soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

his thumb brushes a slow, steady circle against your skin, and he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“i’ve got you. don’t have to rush anything, okay?”

you nodded and he pressed a warm, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, slow and deliberate, making your fingers twist into the sheets beneath you.

his name slipped quiet from your lips, and he groaned low against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver down your spine.

“that’s it,” he whispers, his breath hot against your collarbone. “say it again.”

“joe—”

he repeated your name back soft under his breath, his fingers moving slower, right where you want him, just to draw out every little reaction from you.

he leaned in to kiss you hard, swallowing every quiet gasp that slips past your lips, his smile warm against your mouth. “right here, baby. i’m right here.”

when he pushed two fingers inside you he didn’t stop looking you directly at your eyes, still with that damn smile of his. “where’s that attitude of yours, huh?”

his fingers going faster and harder in every word he said, “weren’t you so confident?”

your legs started to shake, your orgasm growing up in your stomach, you couldn’t even make a sentence.

“talk now, baby” he whispered in your ear.

“i—fuck…please don’t stop.”

“i wasn’t planning to stop.” he presses his forehead harder to yours, his fingers speeding their steady rhythm, his thumb brushing over the spot that makes you gasp.

he kisses you messy, swallowing every sound you make, his voice rough and urgent against your mouth.

“that’s it, baby. go on. i’ve got you.”

he holds you through your orgasm, whispering your name soft against your neck and pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder while you come down.

his fingers slow, then stop, and he wraps his arm tight around your waist to pull you close against his warm chest. “there we go. did so good for me, baby.”

he brushes messy hair off your sweat-warmed forehead, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple while your breathing slows.

his thumb strokes slow, gentle circles over your hip, no urgency left, just quiet warmth.

“told you i’d make it worth the wait,” he murmurs, smiling into your skin.

you can’t help but smirk softly and he catched it.

his own teasing grin tugging at his mouth as he pulls you closer, pressing a lazy kiss to your swollen lips.

he traces the curve of your jaw with his fingertips, warm and soft. “what’re you smirking about, huh? cat got your tongue now that i’ve proved my point?”

“oh shut up!”

“yeah, you’re right…we are not done yet.”

he brushes a kiss over your jaw, his hand sliding slow back down your side.

“oh, baby. i told you. we’re just getting started.”

then without a warning he just turned you into your stomach he helped you with your jeans and panties, taking them off completely.

his palm slides warm down the curve of your back, then squeezes soft at your hip, his thumb brushing slow over the sensitive skin just below your waist.

he presses a kiss between your shoulder blades, breath hot.

“so perfect for me,” he murmurs, shifting closer behind you.

his fingers dig gentle into your hips, pulling you back against him, and he groans low when he feels the heat of you through his own jeans.

he presses a line of open kisses up your spine, his breath coming rough and fast.

“you feel that?” he murmurs, rocking slow against you. “all this because you.”

“stop teasing, joe.”

he laughs rough against your shoulder, fumbling with the zipper of his jeans while his other hand keeps a tight grip on your hip.

“alright, baby. no more teasing. i’ve got you.”

he lines himself up slow, pushing in inch by inch.

both hands tightening on your hips when you gasp and arch back against him.

he groans deep, his forehead dropping to rest between your shoulder blades, breath hot and shaky.

“fuck, you feel so good. so fucking good.”

“oh fuck, joe.”

he sets a slow, deep rhythm.

one hand coming up to wrap around your shoulders to hold you closer.

his lips brushing over the back of your neck over and over.

his breath comes out hot and ragged against your skin. “oh fuck, baby. that’s it. taking me so good, aren’t you?”

all you could do is moan as response.

his hips stutter for a second when you do it, his fingers digging harder into your hip, and he groans low in his chest, leaning deeper over you.

he kisses just under your ear, voice rough and broken.

“god, i could listen to you make those sounds all fucking day.”

he shifts his angle, hitting that soft spot deep inside you that makes your whole body go tight, and he groans when you moan louder, his hand fisting tight in your hair.

he pulls you back against his chest, kissing messy along your shoulder.

“there you go. that’s it, baby. so fucking good.”

“i’m not gonna last—“

he wraps his arm tighter around your waist, his thumb finding your clit to rub slow.

steady circles.

his hips snapping harder against you.

“it’s okay, baby. go on. i’m right there with you, come on.”

when you finish he follows right after you, spilling deep with a low groan of your name.

his fingers digging hard into your hips to hold you still.

he collapses forward slow, pressing kisses to your sweat-slick back as you both catch your breath, arms wrapped tight around your waist.

he pulls out slow after a minute.

rolling onto his side beside you and tugging you into his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

his thumb brushes lazy circles over your shoulder, his breathing still a little uneven.

“so, did you learned your lesson or what?”

you laughed softly and rolled your eyes, “i didn’t.”

“oh, maybe you need a second lesson?”

“yes, absolutely.”

₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

“What the hell does that even mean?” Steve buries his head in his hands, groaning. 

You’re in his bedroom, working on the same topic for what feels like an hour now. Steve is on the bed while you are on the desk you’re not sure what he uses for since he never studies. 

You were just meant to stop by to drop off your least favorite classmate’s textbooks for tomorrow’s exam. You don’t even know why you decide to do the favor for this guy and your best friend Nancy’s douchebag ex. Big mistake, because you ran into his dad, who started tearing into Steve about how forgetful he is and how he’s never going to pass without his girlfriend’s help (apparently, he just assumed you were dating). Steve went along with it to try and explain that you two had been studying and the exam would be fine. 

But because of Mr Harrington’s paranoia about Steve’s independent abilities and your inability to say no to authority figures, you’ve been left with the utterly impossible task of teaching a whole semester’s worth of content to the least cooperative tutee ever. They key word there is left. Half an hour ago, you heard bickering downstairs, then the front door slam so hard you jumped in your seat. Two minutes later, it slammed again and another car sped out of the driveway. Steve shrugged with a “They do this sometimes,” and then looked back to his paper, dumbfounded. It’s not even that he doesn’t get it, it’s that he doesn’t want to try. You have a feeling that Mr Harrington has got it in his head that he can’t learn. 

“Steve, just find the key words!” Usually, you’re a lot more patient with your students but Steve has bit away any of that refusing to listen to the basic instructions you’ve given him a million times. You toss him a highlighter from your overstuffed pencil case. 

He looks at it with raised eyebrows. “Jesus, you’re doing too much.” You roll your eyes. “When you forget your pencil tomorrow, asshole, I’m not giving you one.” 

Steve breathes through his nose in exasperation and looks back down to the question. You watch as his eyes scan over the page, quietly mouthing the words. This Steve — the one that seems to try — is actually pretty, you think for a moment. He undoes the cap on the highlighter, but when he puts it on the page, he slides it over the entire question. “No-” You try to stifle the laugh but it’s useless. “Steve,” You smile, way harder than you should, “You can’t just highlight the entire thing, that defeats the whole…” You chuckle again, grabbing a darker highlighter and slipping out of your seat to join him on the bed.

“Here.” You lean over him, so you can see the question, ignoring that you feel his eyes on you. “Step one: topic of the question.” You highlight the words that tell you that, your shoulder brushing his as you move. “And then it’s figuring out what variables we know from the question and which one we’re trying to solve.” You write the numbers down one by one before turning to Steve. He was already looking at you, not the page. “Am I making sense?”

Steve looks down. “Probably to someone that actually has a brain.” He says things like that to you all the time. You’re starting to get the feeling that Mr Harrington has taught him this way 

“Steve, you know you can do this right? Like, if you actually try." Steve shakes his head. “It’s too late for me. Just go home, my parents aren’t gonna be back all night.” 

That hurts you a little. Everyday, you’re frustrated with Steve’s stubbornness but you’re starting to get it. If he had time, someone to actually sit with him and help, maybe he would be somewhere else. But the awful truth is, it’s his senior year, and a few grades aren’t going to change his entire GPA. Part of you wishes maybe you’d been able to help him earlier. “Woah.” You say out loud without meaning to, shocked by your own thoughts. “What?” Steve pushes his eyebrows together. 

“Nothing.” You swallow back. “If I leave, are you even going to try and study? For yourself not the grades.” Steve’s silence is all the answer you need. You find yourself saying the stupidest thing you ever have. “Nancy told me when you were together you were into some strip studying bullshit.” 

His face drops. “That was- Uh, yeah, I regret that. I was fucking around with her and-”

“Every time you do one step I taught you, I’ll do it.” 

“Are you-” Steve pauses, letting out a disbelieving laugh. 

“Harrington, does that work for your neanderthal brain?” 

He shakes his head. “Why does it matter?”

“Your dad’s an asshole, I always hear you say that. Don’t you wanna just get one good grade? Show him you’re not as useless as he says. Also, if you don’t pass I have a feeling he won’t approve of me as your girlfriend.” He chuckles. 

You push the book further into his hands and shuffle so your sitting across from him. He glances down at the question once before looking back at you. “Are you sure?”

“I just want you to get one question right so, if this is the way to do it.” You shrug, strangely confident. You shove the book further into her arms. “Read.” 

Steve swallows at your words, looking back down to read the question. He does, lips wrapping slowly around each syllable and for the first time, you think he’s actually processing the information. “Ok.” He says, fiddling with the highlighter in his hand. “So, highlighting…” He glides it over each number and term that actually matters. Proudly, he turns the book to show you. 

“Good!” You smile, your hand coming up to the buttons of your blouse. As you undo the first one, you’re suddenly aware of what it is you’re doing. But it’s too late to back out now. You swallow, undoing the rest of them and letting the fabric expose you. Steve’s eyes blow wide open, dragging over your skin. “Is this…” You suddenly feel shy under his gaze, reaching for your blouse again. “I don’t know, is this actually motivating you I know I’m not-”

“No, no, no.” Steve leaps forward to stop you from buttoning it up again, the textbook falling from his lap. “It is.” You raise your eyebrows, cautiously slipping off your top completely and Steve basically gulps seeing your bra. “Definitely helping.” 

You chuckle, nodding to his textbook. “Next step.”

“Next step.” He repeats, eyes flicking from you to the textbook a few times. “Ok.” He shakes his head. “So I’m looking for this angle right?” He points to the diagram. You nod enthusiastically, your hand snaking down the button of your pants… “But I only know one side of this triangle.” 

“Just one?” You question. 

He looks down at the question again, scanning the information carefully. But when he can’t find anything, he throws his hands up in frustration. “I don’t fucking know. I really wish I did.”

You sigh, leaning over the book. “What’s this then?” 

“What?” When you glance up, Steve is not looking at the book.

“Steve.” You shove his head further down so he’s actually reading the words on the page. He tries, but he still can’t figure it out. 

“I don’t get it!” He straightens up, throwing the book to his side. It hits the wall with a bang. 

“Steve!” You scold, hopping off the bed to fetch it.

“No, come on, this is useless.” He blocks you as you try to shove the book into his hand. 

“No it’s not!”

“Yes it is.” He stands on the other side of the bed to avoid you getting in his space. 

You simply round the bed towards him. “Why are you so insistent on not learning?!”

“Because I can’t!”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it, you just give up at the first sign of a challenge.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried?!” He chokes, and you see his eyes go shiny. “That’s all I’ve done but I don’t. know. anything! I’m an idiot, don’t you get that?” You sigh.

Mr Harrington’s words have clearly sunk in to him far more than you ever realized. There’s no getting through to him. But you’re here — standing in just your bra in Steve Harrington’s bedroom, unsuccessful in your mission. So what’s the next move? 

Kissing him, apparently. 

Steve doesn’t even hesitate to kiss you back. His hands come to your waist, slotting you against him and immediately licks into your mouth. You let him. It’s messy and desperate, and a last stitch effort to comfort him if he won’t actually comfort himself. His hand snakes up your back, fumbling with the clasp of your bra before he gets it loose. As it falls away, he breathes shakily at the sigh of your bare skin. “I didn’t get the question right.” He mumbles, but is shut up immediately as you press your lips back to him. You slip off your clothes in a frantic rush, ending up underneath him on the bed. Steve sucks hickeys into your neck and you arch into him, letting out a small whimper. Steve doesn’t waste a second after putting the condom on to slip himself in. It feels good. Really good.

You don’t think about anything as your hips snap into each other. Not that you’ve failed at your one simple task, not that Steve’s probably not going to get into college, certainly not that you’re sleeping with you’re best friend’s ex. It’s quick and desperate and makes you feel like you’re not on this Earth. Steve groans against you, hiking one leg over his waist and making you shiver. “This is a lot fucking better than studying.” He whispers against your lips. You hate to admit that he’s right.

It’s probably too quickly that your high builds. But it doesn’t matter. It slams into you and you let it and then Steve slows as his own hits. He sighs in satisfaction into your neck. As you lay there, catching your breaths, studying is long forgotten. Everything is. Tomorrow, there’s an exam and a future to worry about. But tonight, just tonight, there’s this, a moment of relief in the mess that is Steve Harrington’s life. 

₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.