on a curiosity voyage

fic playlist | author info, etc

notes & tropes: 18+, fem reader, rivalry, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers, unsupervised teenage shenanigans, eventual smut

a/n: not to hype us all up because idk when I'll start posting this fic, but I've been eager to write this for weeks! stay tuned~

chapter list

You sit your glass down and throw the rag over your shoulder as you turn to face him. Steve Harrington, wearing his typical leather vest and a white linen button down, parted at the top to give you a look at his chest. Your eyes catch on his freckles before making your way up to his face. His coffee eyes are amused, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“We’re closed,” you say, turning away from him, mostly to hide your face. He gets you worked up in every way he could. 

“Did that ever stop me before?”

You roll your eyes and grab another glass to dry. He clears his throat to get your attention. 

“I’ll take whiskey, darlin’,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Try another bar, Harrington,” you scoff. “You know my hours.”

“Woulda been here earlier, but I lost track of time.”

“You lose another herd of cattle again?”

“No.” You hear him light a match, the warm smell of smoke followed by rich, vanilla-infused tobacco. You have no idea how he can afford such cigars. “I didn’t work today.”

“Hm.” You sit a glass down. “At least one of us gets breaks.”

Steve sighs, puts his cigar out quickly on the bottom of his boot, and moves around the bar to join you behind it. He takes a glass from your hand and grabs whiskey with another. You feel a little faint when his skin touches yours.

“Hey!” you protest, watching him pop the lid off of a top-shelf bottle. “Don’t dirty a glass, jackass!”

He sort of rolls his shoulders, towering over you, and sits the glass down. Still, he keeps the whiskey in his hand - and before you can say anything, he drinks straight from it. 

“Bastard!” you scold, shoving him, all while he laughs and downs as much as he possibly can. You fight him, reaching for it, but he keeps you at bay with one strong arm. “That - is - expensive - shit - Harrington!”

“Oh, really?” he giggles, boyish. He takes one final swig before slamming it on the cedar bar. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Think I prefer the cheap kind.”

You shove him again, and again, furious with him. “Now I’ve gotta open a whole ‘nother bottle!”

“You think I’m sick or somethin’?” He doesn’t seem much bothered by your pushing. 

“Obviously,” you hiss. “Sick in the head for thinking you can come into my bar after hours without a penny to pay with just to chastise me.”

“I don’t think it spreads,” he smiles, reaching for your hands as you go to push him back towards the door. He takes your small wrists in his big hands - they wrap around them fully and he keeps you in place. 

Your demeanor quickly changes, from furious to frozen. Chastise you, he does, especially when he gets like this. So close to you, his hands caressing you, then pulling back a second later like he didn’t mean it. Steve Harrington was a cowboy and a ladies man, everything you thought you detested. But you loved these midnight visits, even if he was annoying. You liked his company. 

He seems to notice your change and bites back a broader smile. He pulls you towards him, walking backwards towards a broad leather chair. You begin to protest as he sits down, pulling you on top of him, your legs spreading around his thick thighs. His gun, locked away in his holster, is cold against your thigh. 

“Harrington,” you warn, twisting, trying to get out of his grip. 

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching up to cup your cheek. You melt immediately. “Just wanna ask you somethin’, alright?”

You swallow hard. “What, cowboy?”

“Why don’t ya like me?”

You laugh, turning your chin out of his grip. He seems a little hurt, tilting his head as he watches you. 

“You’re everythin’ I hate,” you answer. “Dirty, foul mouthed, always out in the fields. You try to fuck anythin’ that moves. You’re presumptuous and pompous -“

“Me?” he asks, genuinely startled. “I’m pompous?”

“Of course you are. Y’think you’re better than everyone, and that’s why you can come in here and grab my whiskey without askin’.”

“I did ask first. Not my fault you’re such a stone-cold church bell.”

You gasp, but he continues before you can protest. 

“Don’t know why you wanna act all tough. Y’know I’d know what tough is, don’t ya? I-“

“Oh, of course, you’re so brave out there on your horse -“

“See? Y’never let me finish. Hardly ever even give me a chance.”

“I don’t care to!”

Steve narrows his eyes. “You sure about that?” 

“Positive.”

He stares at you a while longer before letting his hands creep towards your hips. “Well,” he says slowly. “I opine that you just like playin’ with me. And bottom fact is I’m gettin’ a little tired of it, darlin’.”

Your eyes widen a little, face heating. “I’m well over bein’ tired of you comin’ in and botherin’ me.”

“So you really don’t like me?”

“No.”

“Take off those trousers for me, then.”

You reel back. “Pardon me?”

“You don’t like me? Prove it, then.”

“I - I - h- how could you even assume -“

“You’ve been grindin’ on my lap this entire goddamn time,” he points out. “But if you’re so sure y’ain’t affected, go ‘head. Show me.”

You lick your lips. You know if you don’t that he’ll always assume you were. And he might even spread the rumor. And if you do, it’ll just confirm his suspicions. Because you’re soaked. Completely. No debate. 

“Go on,” he coaxes. “Y’can go behind the bar if you need some privacy.”

Glaring, you hop off of his lap, looking down quick to see if you left a mark. You didn’t, but it’s very clear he’s hard. 

“And you’re worried about me?” you snark, nodding towards his crotch. 

“Never said I didn’t like you,” he says, adjusting in his seat as you stand breathless. “You gonna make me wait?”

You force yourself to move after a second, feet heavy as you walk behind the bar. He stays in place, watching you, arms crossed over his broad chest. You bite your tongue and pull your trousers off first, then take your cotton underwear in your hands. As you already knew, they’re wet. You stare, contemplating spilling some ale on them. 

“Bring me that whiskey while you’re at it.”

You roll your eyes and ball your underwear into your fists as you pull your pants back on. You grab a glass and the cheap whiskey and return to him, making him catch the glasses as you throw them at him. 

“And your panties?”

You throw them at him as hard as you can. Steve takes them immediately and grins wide as he inspects them. A low whistle leaves his soft, parted lips. “Yup,” he says, the fabric looking small in his big hands. “Knew it.”

“It was hot today,” you protest. “I’ve been here forever, they - they need changed -“

A shot of lightning hits down through your core as you watch him bring your underwear up to his nose and inhale. Deep. He savors it, eyes drifting shut for a long moment before they open again, and he grins. 

“I know a needy cunt when I smell one.”

Now you’re standing in place, heart beating fast in your chest. Your hands clench and unclench in uncertainty. You grind your teeth and stare at him with heated cheeks and chest. 

“So everythin’ you say you hate, you like,” he starts. He shifts, tucking your underwear in his back pocket. You don’t argue. “You like big, strong men who come in and take what they want from you. Cause it’s so hard, runnin’ this place by yourself, no one t’take care of ya. Spendin’ your nights alone. You want someone else to call the shots, huh?”

You swallow hard. 

“That it? You need a man with authority?”

“You don’t have authority,” you force out. 

Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes a little. He’s handsome in the warm glow of the candles, catching on the sun-kissed highlights in his brunette hair. “You’re no different than the livestock I train. You just need a firm hand and a gentle tone, huh? I know I can break you in time. Just gotta get you to yield first.” He suddenly moves his foot forward and taps it against the hardwood floor. “Come sit on my boot.”

The air is knocked out of your lungs. “What?”

“There’s one difference,” he observes softly. “Animals are a lot better at obeyin’ than you.”

You detest the accusation, the way he’s speaking to you, and yet your cunt aches with need. You want to rub your little clit against his boot and make him talk sweet to you. You remain still, a stare-off with him. 

“I’m not very patient,” he says, tapping his shoe. “But I’m tryin’ to be for you.”

You set a glare as you step towards him, legs shaking. 

“There ya go,” he coos as you move to your knees, “could get used to this.”

“Don’t,” you snap. 

“You think y’wont get addicted to this?” he asks. “I know I already am. Seein’ you on your knees before me - you get me hard, dear. Bet you’re good at grindin’ those hips - you done that before, right? Who’s that wealthy shop owner’s son? John?”

You glare up at him as you settle over his boot. “Don’t talk about John.”

“Isn’t me,” he says, holding his hands up. “You know everyone in town was talkin’ when you were together. Think you like people in different classes than you, huh? Did he talk sweet to you?”

You’re overwhelmed and hot. It makes you dizzy. The steel toe of his boot against your scratchy trousers doesn’t help. You nod, unable to speak much, brows furrowed in opposition. 

“Too sweet?” he presses. “That why you’re on my boot right now? Y’like gettin’ talked down to? I can do that, but I’m a romantic, if you’d believe it. Like to cuddle after, make a real connection. You gonna be good and grind?”

Setting your jaw and bearing down, you begin pressing your hips into his shoe. The cool, hard pressure makes you gasp, and Steve smiles wide above you. You hold onto his leg for support, fingertips bruising him. 

“There we go,” he praises, taking his glass and whiskey and pouring it. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You don’t answer, but your whimpers answer for you. You bite your lip and whine softly, circling your hips. Steve whistles low again and takes a sip of the caramel colored alcohol above you. “Jesus, I could get used t’this. Shuttin’ you up on my boot. You be good and I’ll reward you, honey. Want a sugar cube?”

“Shut up,” you hiss. 

“Aw, alright,” he beams. “Sugar don’t work on you, shoulda known. How ‘bout my cock? That a good enough reward?”

Despite your best attempts, a moan forces itself past your lips. You’ve dreamed of him, ever since he first busted into your bar and begged for a drink after a long day of herding. His large figure on top of you, crushing you, while his cock rams you in spots you didn’t know existed. You wish you could see more of it now - but you’re only face to face with his clothed election. 

“Huh.” He takes a drink. “Didn’t think you’d like that. You’re just full of surprises, huh? That’s somethin’ I like ‘bout you.”

You hate that his words make your cheeks catch fire. 

Steve angles his foot upwards, making the boot raise and press deliciously against your clit. You cry out, head falling back, and Steve chokes out a sigh. “God Almighty, look at you. All this from fuckin’ my boot. Could you have imagined?”

You shake your head, though you aren’t paying much attention to him. Your body shakes as you move yourself against him. Every push and pull makes you weaker, a tightness starting in your lower stomach and reaching down for your clit. You rest your head against his knee and miss him taking his cigar back out of his vest’s pocket. You smell the march and tobacco again. It smells like him. That rich scent, followed by the sweet smell of hay and maple sugar, envelopes him wherever he goes. You wish your thin bedsheets smelled like it. 

“C’mere,” he urges, reaching for your hair and tilting your head up. “Open up.”

He bounces his foot again, and your mouth drops. 

“Breathe,” he instructs, before leaning down and blowing smoke right into your mouth. You inhale, but the smoke is too much - it forces you to cough and stutter. Steve leans back and smiles, taking another drag and blowing it down towards you. “‘nother thing t’train you to take, huh?”

Overwhelmed with pleasure and the sudden urge to be better than him, or at least good for him, you nod. 

“I’ll make a list,” he sighs. He’s lazy, leaning back and watching you. He sets his glass on the oak table beside him and presses his palm against his cock. “Y’know, I really pride myself on breakin’ things in. I’ve handled some of the most aggressive mares in the state. Even when they kick and punch, even when they resist … I always make ‘em mine.”

Your teeth bite into his knee, your movements speeding up. You cry out, eyes rolling back, the tightness growing. 

“You wanna be mine?” he asks, leaning forward again. “That it? Wanna be yours. Want you to pay attention t’me. I’d do whatever y’asked. Wanna be your big, strong man. Will you let me?”

A shuddering breath. “Steve,” you whimper. It’s the first time you’ve called him that. 

“Good girl, that’s my name.” He pats your head. “Wanna be Steve’s girl? Huh?”

You betray your conscience and listen to your subconscious. “Mhm. Ah! Y-yes!”

“Then cum. C’mon, know y’can, want it. Polish my shoe, darlin’.”

You press your head hard into his knee and dig your fingers into his flesh. Deep breaths, along with your movements, make your body rise and fall. Steve bounces his shoe a little, angling it up, and with a sharp inhale and shout you cum. The room feels like it’s upside down. You’re dizzy, overwhelmed, parched as the white-hot feeling spreads from your pussy to the rest of you. It leaves you weak, and you’re about to fall back before Steve catches you, two hands on your biceps. 

“Hey, hey,” he coos, pulling you back up into his lap. Your forehead rests against his. “‘s alright, Steve’s got you. There we go. Did so good for me, peach. Y’look so pretty for me.”

“I’m. Not. A. Horse,” you pant. 

“Sorry,” he chuckles, hands moving to cup your ass. “Give me a kiss, won’t you?”

You pull away from him to press your lips as hard as you can against his. He gasps, a hand flying up to the back of your neck. You kiss him hard, a little messy, finishing it off with a harsh bite to his bottom lip before pulling away. 

“Goddamn,” he mumbles, reaching up to touch his bottom lip. “Y’need some more trainin’, I see.”

The living room in your apartment is dimly lit in a mess of Halloween colored string lights strung up along your walls that Eddie helped you hang up last week on the first official day of fall. They fill the small space in bursts of warm orange pumpkins and tiny purple bats while Elvira Mistress of The Dark glows from the screen of your TV in front of your couch. The couch where Steve is still sitting too close. 

The flicker of your candles dances across your walls and you’re tempted to blow them all out when they keep catching the corner of your eye. Maybe that's why you can't focus on the movie you were so excited about. The movie you raised a big fuss over when the group canceled your weekly night in favor of dates and work. The movie Steve still offered to watch with you saying he had no plans anyway. You really contemplate it when you realize it’s filling your living room with the kind of smell that’s eerily similar to the one embedded in the leather of the BMW you recently started getting more rides in.

When Steve laughs you can smell the berry on his breath from the Red Vines he can’t stop eating, his fingertips glisten from the half finished tub of popcorn on the coffee table. His arm brushes the length of yours when he leans forward to toss the almost empty pack of candy with the rest of the snacks and your stare immediately finds the sliver of tan skin revealed to you when the maroon hem rides up. Stomach flipping when you spot more freckles than the ones that seem to dot the endless expanses of his perpetually sun kissed skin. 

“Wow, she’s funny!” He snickers like he just got a good surprise, leaning back into the cushions. “I didn’t know she was so funny.”

The shift in his weight makes the couch dip, bringing you closer to him. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Why is your chest tight?

Turning your head, you meet his blood shot, heavy lidded gaze and lazy smile that pushes up his pink cheeks. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Steve Harrington so content. So relaxed. It might have something to do with the fact that the joint you both shared was his first.

“Beauty, humor and brains? How could you go wrong?” You grin and it makes the amber in his eyes light up.

“Yeah,” He stares at you for a second longer than he’d have the guts to on a normal day before adding with a sigh “tell me about it.”

There was something different about the way he was looking at you tonight, and it makes your palms sweat. The fly away honey strands that stick out wildly by his ears look softer than normal too. Why do you want to find out? Clearing your throat, he raises his eyebrows up at you in an unphased offering of his attention.

“How are you doing big boy? You coughed quite a bit earlier.” His gaze narrows at the nickname letting you know that Steve was still very much in there.

“I think it’s perfectly normal for someone who hasn’t smoked before to cough when they take an accidental big hit,” he challenges, his sock covered toes finding yours again seemingly on their own, “and to answer your rudely asked question, I’m having a very nice time.”

He tries to keep his face straight but the smile that stretches a mile wide across yours makes him snort, the whites of his perfect teeth blinding in the dark when you wiggle your feet with his. 

“Good, I wouldn’t want Robin to come hunt me down or something.” You giggle leaning back letting your own high relax you into the couch.

Your eyes find Elvira’s generous cleavage on the screen as you try to ignore the feeling of Steve’s hand touching yours when he scratches his thigh and again when he leaves it there. 

“Robin won’t care, it’s Nance you gotta worry about. Worry wart Wheeler.” The nickname rolls off his tongue too easily and makes you both stop, letting the sounds of the towns committee trying to get Elvira out fill the silence before you both fall into a fit of laughter.

It was the kind of laughter that left hot tears streaming down your faces as you leaned even further into each other trying to catch your breath, only for one of you to mutter ‘worry wart wheeler’ when the other would finally be holding it together just to start all over again. By the time it was done, and the last few chuckles subsided, his head had found a new home on your shoulder with his forehead buried in the crook of your neck. 

The smell of his hairspray, and the soft flyaways you’d wondered about tickle your nose with his hair pressed to your cheek. Your socked feet stay tangled together as you try not to think about the size difference and that stupid saying you’d heard in middle school, and you definitely try not to think about how the tip of his pinky bumps into the side of your hand and how you don’t hesitate to hook it with yours.

Cozy. Too Cozy.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between you both when your attention is finally brought back to the movie and you wonder if he’s having the same existential crisis as you at how good this feels. Eddie would never let you live it down. You and the hair?! Steve’s amused hum breaks you out of your train of thought and you already know you’ll have to watch this again when you aren’t so…distracted. 

Elvira and Bob are fighting with a monster she accidentally concocted inside of a pot instead of the casserole she was trying to make, and his finger tightens around yours when Bob almost loses the fight before he shakes against you with a chuckle. The longer the movie goes on, the more you start noticing Steve’s similarities to the hunk who stole the Mistress of the Dark’s affections, mumbling an ‘oh my god’.

God dammit, you have a crush on Steve Harrington.

The weed makes the realization floor you more than it probably would on a normal day, because you aren’t blind, anyone could tell you how handsome the former king of Hawkins is. But no one could have warned you about how soft he is, especially right now with sleepy eyes and messy hair that smells like pine and too much hair product. They wouldn’t be able to tell you how big of a dweeb he is, or as Robin affectionately calls him a ‘dingus’. They also don’t know how good of a friend he is to anyone who’s lucky to have him, like refusing to let you spend the night alone and watching a movie he knew you were excited about just because he’d actually listened when you talked about it for weeks, even saving you the first copy in Keith’s possession. 

Too bad you’ve barely retained any of it. 

As if he could hear your thoughts, you feel the slight turn of his head and the heavy weight of his stare on the side of your face. You try not to give yourself away and keep your gaze locked on the TV where the town has Elvira ready to be burned at the stake, and Bob has to rescue her. You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, the universe just rubbing it in now. 

The side of your body he’s been leaning against starts to go numb, and no matter how much you want to stay exactly like this for whatever is left of the night, the need for circulation becomes too much. Your eyes flick down to his that haven’t haven’t wavered and that slow happy smile spreads across his pink lips when they meet. 

“You doing okay, honey.” The nickname he’s called you sarcastically in arguments sounds different when it’s wrapped in affection like this. 

“Not that I’m not enjoying -,” nerves make your throat close up and you have to clear them out before you finish, “not that I’m not enjoying this. My arm is just kind of going numb.”

Heat rises to your cheeks with embarrassment that you know is misplaced, and his eyes go wide when your words click. His reaction is fast despite the smoked joint that's snuffed out in an empty coke can on the table when he pulls away. The warmth of his body that’s invaded what feels like every inch of yours for the last hour is gone and the tightness in your chest worsens now that you miss it. Stupid crush. Stupid blood flow. 

“Oh my god, sorry, sorry, I was just so comfortable I wasn’t even thinking.” There’s stress in his tone that you haven’t heard all night and you decide that you hate it, he’s always stressed.

“Hey,” Your fingers curl around his bicep, and it flexes under the thick material of his sweater when his eyes meet yours, making you forget how to speak for a moment, “if we lay down on our sides we’ll - we’ll be more comfortable?” 

Your heart beats loud in your ears after you throw out your suggestion fully knowing there’s gotta be less than twenty minutes left of the movie at most. 

“Yeah, we can do that, like, big spoon?” He points to himself, with eyes as red as his cheeks before pointing to you with a small grin, “little spoon?”

You bite your bottom lip to contain the smile that threatens to break across your face, and it only makes his grow. 

“Yeah, just like that Harrington.” You giggle and you don’t miss the kind of glint in his eyes that sparkles because of it.

“Harrington? I thought I was big boy?” He mocks with fake offense, clumsily clambering back onto the couch letting himself fully extend.

His socked feet almost hang off the armrest but the problem is quickly solved when he turns onto his side leaving just enough room for you. One of his big hands patting the cushions in an invitation that makes you both laugh. 

“I thought you hated that nickname?” you tease, butterflies that never existed before erupting when he watches you with soft eyes climb into the spot next to him.

Your head lands in the crook of his elbow, amber and spice enveloping you while one of his long fingers curl around your hip not hesitating to pull you flush against his chest like he missed you. Maybe you weren’t the only one with a wandering mind tonight. 

“I don’t,” he agrees, lips coming up right next to your ear and you wonder if he can feel the shiver that runs down your spine, “but I kinda like it when you say it.”

Your body curls into him when you giggle with a throb in your core that makes your thighs press together. Steve chuckles, hooking his chin over your shoulder and his feet find yours at the end of the couch like they did under the blanket. Grabbing the throw off the floor, you drape it back over the two of you when you both finally get situated. 

He feels like he’s everywhere and it’s even harder to concentrate like this, especially when all his fingers are laced with yours now. The pad of his thumb rubs circles on the top of your hand, and you can feel the way his cheeks push up into a grin every time something makes him laugh. You spend the last bit of what’s left of the movie tangled up with him like this, and neither one of you try to move when the credits roll or when the screen goes black. 

The air buzzes with the kind of tension that’s laid dormant until there’s nothing to distract you from it anymore in the new silence. His breath fans hot across your neck while the strokes of his thumb get slower, adding a little more pressure to the muscle there, and feels good enough to have your eyes flutter closed. 

Maybe it’s the darkness of your living room, or the way the tip of his nose starts to trace the shell of your ear but you get the surge of confidence you need to turn around and face him. Steve doesn’t protest at all, letting you move with the kind of ease that makes you wonder if he was waiting for it all along. The small smile on his face tells you he absolutely was.

The new angle has you looking up at him from under your lashes, while his hand that held yours all night covers the middle of your back bringing you to his chest, getting you just as close as before. Your legs slot together while warm lights flicker across his face, they bounce and reflect off the lingering glaze that coats his eyes. Embers burning in a mossy ground. 

It starts to feel like Steve Harrington wants to kiss you, and you’d be lying if your said you didn’t want him too.

“Hi” You whisper, the corners of your lips pulling up because they can’t help it when he looks at you like this.

“Hi” the rich honey of his voice comes out low as he dips his head down to rest on his forearm right above yours.

The tips of your noses are dangerously close to touching, and you swear you hear his breath hitch when your feet find his again. Holding his gaze, you silently dare him to read your mind so you don’t have to say it out loud. You do it first.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You try not to think about how it sounds like something you’d say at the end of a date.

“Me too, I’m uh -“ a puff of hot air fans across your face when he laughs, and you notice his first sign of nerves all night, “I’m glad I didn’t make a fool of myself or anything.” 

“I have to say I’m impressed, you handled your first joint like a pro.” Your hands dare to run up his chest, plucking a piece of lint from the threads of his sweater. You feel the way the muscles in his stomach flex for you, and you have to bite back your smirk.

“I had good company is all.” He hums, the blunt ends of his nails scratching along the dip of your back, before whispering “Is this okay?”

Your eyes flutter shut with contentment you haven’t felt in a while, your whole body melting into his with a mumbled ‘mmmhm’

“Does Elvira have any other movies we could watch sometime?” His question makes your eyes pop open, and he tries to look as nonchalant as possible before adding, “you know just me and you.”

“Not a movie, per say but she has a show I like to watch where she does funny commentary on B rated horror films.” Your two feet trap one of his between them playfully to try and ease the nerves he shouldn’t have, earning you that megawatt smile that’s made half the ladies in Hawkins swoon. 

So, Steve Harrington wasn’t a mind reader.

“That sounds like fun,” He lets out a relieved sigh that you didn’t know he was holding, close enough now for your noses to touch.

“Yeah? You wanna come have fun with me?” You tease, but it comes out sounding like a double entendre that makes your skin heat up, especially when Steve closes his eyes and groans. The nails that scratch your back freeze as he tries regaining some semblance of self control. Licking his lips, he exhales a breath out of his nose before he speaks,

“Abso-“

His answer gets cut off by the sound of your front door slamming open, followed by the bellowing voice of the only other person who has keys to your apartment.

“I’ve come for boobies and I brought beer! Better late than never am I ri- Whoa, whoa, WHOA, what is going on here?” Eddie’s shock is quickly replaced by amusement, dimples poking deep holes in his cheeks when he grins wildly as he takes in the two of you on the couch.

“Steve…” you whine out, tears starting to pool in your eyes. Your nose burned while the cry built in your throat, “Please, no.”

“Are you embarrassed, baby?” Eddie’s smug smirk deepened the dimples on his cheeks while he spoke, “Don’t want me to see you get a spanking?”

You nod, your face flushed with humiliation. Steve had always admonished you in private when you ‘misbehaved’. His list of regulations stacking up every weekend, making it harder for you to get away with anything unscathed. Steve would help get you dressed before a party, telling you his rules for the night in the mirror — he’d watch your eyes glaze over and your cheeks redden, the soft rock of your hips on the vanity stool.

He cupped your chin from behind you, tilting your head up to look at him, “Do you like when daddy tells you what to do?”

“Mhm,” you responded dumbly, your tongue swelling in your mouth. That burning ache between your legs only getting worse when he pulled you into the bathroom at the party to tell you what a bad girl you were when you got a drink without asking his permission first. Or when you rolled your eyes at him in front of his friends. Little things to get you going, little promises he knew you couldn’t keep. It was just a fun game that you could both turn off at any time.

You huffed at how ridiculous he was being, laying it on thick while trying to pull out of the grasp on your wrist. Steve’s hand found your jaw, turning you to face him, peering down at you, “Do I need to embarrass you in front of everyone here?”

Steve’s eyes would get lust blown at the sound of your whimpering, your quiet, small, ‘Sorry, Stevie. I won’t do it again.’ He’d always take you home after that, barely making it through the front door before your jeans were around your ankles and his mouth was pressed to your neck.

He had only put you over his knee twice before, the first time was only to see if it was something you were both into. It didn’t take long to realize how very much into it you both were. The second was when you had come into Family Video and caught an awful attitude with him in front of Robin while she was ringing out a customer. He was so miffed, that for a split second he thought about hauling you over to the back room.

“Let’s talk about this when I get home later, okay?” he asked sweetly, no one would be wiser, “We can get to the bottom of this bad mood.”

You know what he means and you frown, grabbing the tapes from him roughly before he can bag them for you. You made a big show of shoving the door open to leave, the bell shrilling while it shook only to be over powered by the sound of your car door slamming and your wheels peeling out of the parking lot.

Steve came home quietly. Eddie was at the record store and you had just finished making dinner. He stalked into the kitchen, and while you had calmed down since your Family Video visit, Steve had been fuming about it since.

“Robin was really surprised at your little tantrum earlier,” Steve said, his voice measured, “She didn’t expect you to be such a brat.”

“It wasn’t a tantrum, Steve, don’t be so dramatic,” you snapped back while you placed your serving plates on trivets already set out on the table. He caught your forearm once the ceramic was out of your hands.

“You need to learn to keep your attitude at home when you come to visit me at work,” he glowered, “Think I need to teach you a lesson.”

“Steve, I – um –” your heart hammered in your chest and the feeling of his hand on your arm, the soft tug of him leading you to the couch. You were sputtering and sobbing by the fifth strike against your ass, Steve’s taunts making your cheeks burn more than the skin of your thighs. “Is this what you needed?” he asked, “Needed some of daddy’s attention?”

“Y-yes,” you choked out, your legs kicking and hips shimmying to get away from his assaulting hands. He smoothed his palm over the swell of your backside comfortingly, shushing you. “Almost done, baby,” his voice was soft and apologetic, “Just a few more, okay?”

“C-can we be d-done, now? Please daddy?” you hiccuped and sniffled, looking up and back at him with red rimmed eyes.

“Oh, angel,” he frowned dramatically, sulking his shoulders. He reached out to cup your cheek, “Okay, we can be done.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed out while he pulled your underwear back up, smoothing it over. He knocked your jeans to the floor before pulling you up right onto his lap.

“I know, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you,” he soothed, pressing a kiss to your temple, rubbing big circles onto your back. He rocked you against him for a moment while you cried into his shoulder before nudging himself in to kiss away the tears on your cheeks. Steve didn’t leave any marks.

It would be the last time that was true.

“I’m not asking again,” Steve’s voice was stern, “Do you want me to put you over my knee, myself?” Eddie snickered, making you freeze up and cross your arms over your chest. Your feet felt planted into the carpet of the living room, you made a noise of contempt but it sounded petulant coming out of you.

Steve sighed, “You showing off? Think this is helping your case?”

You shake your head ‘no’, you know you’re pouting, you know this looks ridiculous.

“One…” Steve starts, the authority in his voice building, you shiver at the sound.

“Steve,” you hiss out, “I’m not a six year old.”

“Two…” he continues, “If I get to three, you’ll regret it.”

“Steve!” you stomp your foot in frustration and Eddie’s eyes flash in your direction. You start feeling small – weak – as both of their gazes harden on you.

“Thr–”

“Okay, okay,” you rasp out in a whisper, taking a step towards Steve. His hand reaches out to tug your flannel pajama pants and thin underwear down to your feet. “Step out,” he instructs. You shake your feet out of them kicking them under the coffee table before he guides you over his lap. You whimper immediately at his hand running over the soft, plushness of your ass. His other arm keeps you tight in place over his other leg, the rest of you partially draped over the couch.

“Give her twenty,” Eddie instructs, “Make it hurt.”

Your head shoots up to look at him, eyes like saucers etched with fear.

“The most I’ve ever given her is five, Munson,” Steve explains softly, his hand still massaging you gently.

“Well, that’s probably why she doesn’t listen to you,” Eddie says matter of factly, readjusting his position on the archway frame. You hear the clink of the chains on his jeans as he does it, “Gotta punish that habit out of her.” Steve’s jaw ticked, chest tightening in what he could only describe as acute rage. He reared his hand back, bringing it hard back down onto your backside – a cry hissed out of you as sharp as the crack of his palm against your body.

“Oh, ow,” you breathe out, tears threatening to flow.

“Count it out loud to daddy, princess,” Eddie says, lifting off the wall and coming around to watch from the edge of the coffee table so he can see your face better. “One,” you whine out. Steve’s hand cracks down again and you grit your teeth to keep from crying, his hand runs over the hot skin while you mutter 'two’ loud enough for them to hear it. Three and four start to build a hot, stinging pain. Five and six have tears blurring your vision, you’re one blink away from them plopping onto the couch cushions.

“Six,” you whisper out.

“You stopped at five last time?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded, raining down a particularly hard spank at the line where your ass met your thigh. He hummed at the wail you let out, watching as your nails clutched into the fabric of the furniture under you.

“S-seven,” you sniffled, still not fully crying. You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing what they were doing was working. Especially with how much fun they’re having before you’ve even shed a tear.

“Looks like she can take these just fine,” Eddie cocks his head, “Want me to show you how she can really learn?”

Steve looked up at him, “What do you mean?”

Steve was still new to this, but he knew Eddie had been around the way a few times. He’d had all kinds of sex – met a lot of fringe types at The Hideout, some interesting people at the record store. When they first started living together, he’d hear the noises the girls would make in his room. The snaps of what he thought were a whip, the pathetic and whiny 'Yes, master!’ of whatever fishnet clad bimbo Eddie would bring home.

Ed reached for his belt, taking the loose end and sliding it out of the loops, savoring the sound of the metal tinkling as he undid it. He wrapped the leather around his fist expertly, folding the length of the belt until it was long enough to get a nice snap.

“You hold it like this, okay?” Eddie said, showing it to Steve from all sides, “There are other ways too, but from this position, this’ll be enough slack.”

Steve takes the belt from him, matching the way Eddie wrapped it around his hand. He smiled at the feeling of it, strong and unforgiving despite how worn out the leather was. He readjusts his grip on you with his other hand, skating his fingers over your back. You look back at him, your face and body relaxing after a break in the beating.

“Is it okay if I use this to finish?” he asks, you look at the belt in his hand. The veins in his forearms have popped slightly, his hands look strong in the leather, as mouth watering as the watch on his wrist. You nod while you make eye contact with him but he gives you a little nudge with the heel of his hand.

“Is it okay?” he asks again. “Yes, daddy,” you reply, “It’s okay.”

“C'mon Stevie,” Eddie smirks, “Make her pay.”

Steve rears back, bringing the leather down hard on your thighs and the snap of it makes him grin. He feels you jolt on his legs, a high pitched whine pooling out of you like a tea kettle ready to burst.

“Ooh, poor baby,” Steve cooed, “Should’ve behaved, huh?”

He struck down two more times, small welts raising in your skin — color blooming. You couldn’t hold back your tears anymore, the biting sting of the belt becoming too much to bear. You hid your face in your arms to muffles your yelps and whimpers.

“Don’t hear you counting, sweet thing,” Eddie mocked, his giggle stained dark and cold.

“T-ten,” you whine into the cushions. Steve grunts, his erection pressing against your hip while you squirm over him. The belt meets your ass again in quick, biting, succession, you can feel Steve and Eddie’s stares over you.

“Please no more, daddy,” you mumble into your arms.

“What was that?” Steve asked, “Can’t hear you with that pretty face covered.”

You lifted your face off the cushions, puffy and streaked with mascara, “P-please no more, I learned my lesson.”

Steve’s gaze softens at your pained face, teary eyes and swollen lips, “You sure?”

“Yes, daddy. I learned my lesson,” you nodded slowly, turning your face to Eddie, “I learned my lesson, I’m s-sorry.”

Eddie puts his hands on his hips, pondering you, “Normally I don’t let my girls off so easy.”

He walks around the coffee table and squats at the couch so he’s eye level with you. You feel his ring hand come up to push your hair out of your face, smearing the tears on your cheeks away while he does.

“But I think I can make an exception for a sweet thing like you,” he says, his smile is sweeter this time, “I think you’ve just had a long day, you didn’t mean it.”

Eddie moves his attention to Steve who was reluctantly putting the belt down next to him, “You know the best part, Stevie?”

Steve gives him a look with raised eyebrows while Eddie reaches over, taking Steve’s hand and guiding it between your legs, “Girls like her love this.”

You shiver when Steve’s fingers brush your inner thigh, legs opening for him just a bit – the action was involuntary, your body begging to let him in. His reaches further, already feeling a stickiness between your upper thighs – he chuckles. His fingertips dip further up, catching the wetness pooling at your entrance, your folds letting out a soft wet click when he parts your legs further.

“Oh, look at you, princess,” Steve’s voice loses his anger, falling into teasing, “You like getting put in your place?”

You nod, still sniffling while your breath catches. You feel Steve’s first two fingers push into you, the sound of his fingers squelching inside of you making you feel dirty.

“You like it?” Eddie asks, watching you start to pant as Steve quickens his movements to a steady pace.

“Yes, sir,” you gasp out, “I love – I love it.”

Eddie laughs, “Oh Stevie, she loves it!” “Yeah, I can tell,” Steve mutters, feeling your walls tighten around him. Your plush thighs start to close down around his wrist.

“I’m gonna – I’m –” you can barely form a sentence with the pleasure building up in your stomach. “Hold it,” Steve barks, pulling his hand out quickly from your legs – bringing all five fingers, some still soaked in your spend, to come down on your still burning ass.

“Let’s bring this upstairs,” he says, tapping your thighs softly to get you to stand up, “You can get on your knees and show us how sorry you are.” You gingerly get to your feet, Steve following suit so he can steady you. He wraps an arm around your neck to pull you in for a kiss, deep and slow, pulling away to rest his forehead on yours, “You okay? You wanna stop?”

You smile at him, stifiling a giggle at his desperate attempt to be discreet in his sweetness in front of Eddie, “I’m okay, I promise. We can keep going.”

“You’re such a good girl, you know that?” he asks, his amber eyes warm while they meet yours. “Oh, stop,” you blush, pressing a kiss to his lips as a thank you.

“Alright, kids. We can kiss and make up later,” Eddie’s bored voice rings in the living room while he heads to the staircase, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Relax, Munson,” Steve bites over his shoulder, letting his arm drop from around your neck to your waist. He lets you get in front of him as you climb the stairs, inspecting the welts and handprints he left behind. The back of his neck got hot at the thought of you being bruised up the next day, something left behind to remind you who was in charge.

Eddie was already sat at the edge of Steve’s bed when you got into the bedroom, waiting.

“You heard Steve, baby,” he said gently, beckoning you over, “Come show me how sorry you are.”

With a little encouragement from Steve in the form of a tap on your butt, you took the handful of steps it was to get in front of Eddie. He eyed you the entire time you got to your knees between his legs, the carpet scratching at your skin.

The mattress dipped when Steve sat next to him, undoing his jeans while Eddie stroked your hair.

Annoyingly full lips, those two kissable birthmarks on his tanned face, bare chested and gleaming in the sunlight. As if he attracts the sun itself, bathing him in a golden hue that dances off the line of his abdominal muscles.

On your right, Tina is telling you about her current dating escapades. All waving hands and frantic movements, lip gloss freshly applied glistening off her rapidly moving lips. And even so, your eyes wander. Her voice fades into the background, muddling with the music spilling out from the speaker system in the backyard.

Steve tips his cup and dips his head toward the garden gate. A sign, if you’ve ever seen one. Lip curling into a grin, he slips out the gate and you return your focus to Tina, offering her words of encouragement before asking her to hold your drink.

After that, it’s a rush across the front yard. A rapid tap of flip flops as you dart around the side street, finding Steve Harrington leaning his back against his car door, head pointed up at the sky. He tosses his cigarette onto the ground, fingers carding through his hair, and folds his arms across his chest.

Waiting.

“They’ll be looking for us soon,” you mutter teasingly.

His eyes watch your hips sway as you approach, roam along your form as your fingers reach down to loosen the top button of your jean shorts. Steve’s arms drop from their position across his chest, barest brushes of his fingers curling around your hips, tugging you flush against his frame.

“Just means I’ll have to make the most of the few minutes we have.”

“You seem so sure of yourself,” you whisper, breaking off into a groan as he cups the back of your head in one hand, and wedges his fingers into your bikini bottom with the other. At the first teasing circle of his middle finger at your clit, he smirks, relishing in the moan that punches it’s way from your chest.

“What was that?”

“Fuck o-o-off.” Another moan, head rolling forward into his chest at the feeling of his thick fingers sinking into your slick center.

“Back seat,” he murmurs lowly, tipping your chin up and kissing you soundly. “Now.”

This part you know. The scramble out of your shorts. The toss of them onto the floor. The quick untying of his bathing suit bottom and a harsh tug downward to free his cock. The velvet feel of him, hot and heavy in your palm. The huff of his breath, the low groan, the whine as you sink down on him inch by inch.

“Always look so pretty like this,” he rasps, a kiss brushing your collar bone. It’s a slow grind down on him. The tops of his thighs hitting the backs of yours, that perfect thumb of his rolling practiced circles over your clit, always knowing what you like. “Fuck. Yes, baby. Just like that.”

Your pace hastens. Eyes on the watch he wears around his wrist, knowing you only have minutes. But then again, that’s all you’ve had these months. Stolen kisses in alleyways, under bleachers at games, in the locker room after his games. Frantic fucks in his BMW after class, late at night when everyone goes to bed on the weekends, at Lover’s Lake, hidden away amidst the trees.

Because it’s Steve.

Steve Harrington who doesn’t date.

Not really.

And neither do you.

Too focused on getting the hell out of Hawkins, trying to make it out there in the world, spread your wings and fly.

His breath is hot against your ear. A rapid pant of his praises and curses against your skin. The sound of your slick with every upward thrust up from beneath you. The tips of his fingers clutching at your hips, leaving those pretty bruises he’ll kiss better tomorrow.

But it’s these moments you pretend.

It’s in these moments, where your palm reaches out and slaps against the window, hips undulating, body rocking, head falling back, that nothing else exists but this feeling.

Whatever this is.

“Oh—oh, mmm, I’m so close.”

“Yeah?” Steve rasps, palm splaying over your bathing suit top. Over your heart. Then slides beneath, gliding over sensitive flesh, mouth swallowing your moan as he rolls your sensitive bud between his fingers. “Gonna be a good girl and come for me?”

The words have their desired effect, your orgasm striking like a bolt of lightning, his arm immediately coming up to hold you tight to his chest as he fucks up into you through it, his eyes pinching shut as his own release rushes through him.

Tomorrow, you’ll continue on with your normal lives. Him passing you in the hall, nodding his head, maybe flashing you a smile. Tomorrow you’ll slide a note in his locker, something cheeky, something flirty, doused in your favorite perfume. Tomorrow you’ll fall into his arms, and then his bed.

Today—today, though, you’ll pretend you don’t wish for more.

Because this is what you agreed on.

No feelings, just feeling.

You’re resigned to stay quiet, to beeline towards your room before he says anything. But Steve grabs you the moment you step through, leaning back against the door and pulling you flush against his chest. “Who’s that?” he asks, nose trailing up your neck.

You hate the ache between your legs. “Who cares?”

“I care.” His lips press against your ear and his cock presses against your ass, his gym shorts leaving nothing to your imagination. “If you were lonely last night you could’ve come over.”

“Sorry you’re jealous,” you mumble, weakly trying to twist out of his arms.

“Must not’ve been any good,” he tsks, hands moving firmly up your torso. “Didn’t even hear you last night.”

“Well, you sleep like a fucking - like a brick.”

Steve’s thumbs flick across your nipples, barely covered by a cotton shirt. “Let me see you,” he breathes. “Did he mark you up?”

“It’s been a month,” you sigh. “Over a month, Steve.”

“And I miss you,” he smiles, working still on your tits, honing in on your reactions. “You know I could fuck you better than anyone you’ve brought over.”

“That’s not why we stopped.” Your voice catches. “And that’s not true.”

“Not true?”

He almost gives you whiplash with how fast he has you turning towards him. He nearly rips your shirt off, tugging your sleep shorts down - no underwear. His eyes rake over your body, hungry and possessive. His hands rake up your thighs and hips, pressing for any bruising or hickeys, finding none. “Doesn’t seem like they’re very good,” he says, moving your thighs apart. You sigh again, half annoyed and half outrageously turned on. He looks up at you, his hair nearly obscuring his dark eyes. “Did he fuck you last night?”

“Yes.”

Steve’s thumb moves inward to pry your lips apart. You can’t help but to moan, as much as you’d rather not give him the satisfaction. It catches on your hole and he actually laughs. “You’re nearly dry,” he observes. “Jesus, you’re not even gaping. Small, huh?”

You don’t answer, too turned on to focus on his questions. He suddenly bites the fat of your thigh and you gasp, wrapping your fingers in his hair.

“I said he’s small, huh?”

“Not as big as you,” you admit.

“Did you cum?”

You frown. “N-no.”

“Poor thing,” he hums, suddenly retracting, standing back up. When he leans against the door again, he crosses his arms. “Trying to fuck everyone in the city to get a taste of somethin’ like my cock again, yeah?”

“It’s not like that,” you grit.

“What’re you settling for, then?”

You don’t know what to say.

“You know, if I fucked you, you would’ve cum at least twice. From my mouth first, then my cock. Bet he didn’t even eat you out, did he? Did he finger you? Well, guess he didn’t need to stretch you out for anything, huh? Would’ve marked you up a little too. Did he even kiss you, honey?”

“W- we kissed -“

“Oh, but not good, right? Really rushed, probably all teeth. Did he give those sensitive nipples any attention? Look at ‘em, all perked up just from the air.” His eyes are trained on your chest for a moment before he looks downward. “And I would’ve given my cum to that hungry little cunt. Did he even know where your clit was? Must not’ve if you didn’t cum. Bet you’re still aching for something to fill you up. Aren’t you?”

Your mouth stays slightly agape, still at a loss. You want him so badly that you just might tackle him and let your 40 day streak of no touching die out. He smiles smugly and takes a single step forward to catch your mouth in a sloppy kiss - the kind that’s hardly enjoyable but so dirty that you can’t help but to squeeze your thighs together. He pulls back with a wink, hand on your face.

“Shower, get his fuckin’ scent off of you. Want you on my bed when I get back.”

You found your thoughts drifting to him as you sat in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van, en route to some lame party you were sure.

“Anyone we know gonna be at this party, Eds?” You pondered out loud, gaze focused at the street zooming by outside the window.

“Well, uh–” he mumbled in response, hand coming to scratch as the back of his neck. He didn’t need to answer as he pulled into the driveway of some rich kids house, side by side with a familiar burgundy BMW.

“Oh,” you groaned, head rolling to the side to get a look at Eddie sporting a sheepish grin, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” his eyes not quite meeting your gaze, “knew you wouldn’t come if I told you he was gonna be here.”

He was right, you wouldn’t have. But you were here now and the cherry vodka inside was calling your name. So you bounded out of the van, pulling Eddie along with you inside the house, making a beeline for the kitchen.

Two drinks later and you were buzzed, cheeks a little rosy and head a little fuzzy. You’d somehow managed to avoid Steve all night which you didn’t know how to feel about. Usually, he’d sniff you out in an instant, hands snaking up your waist, lips on your ear, whispering something filthy. Something brazen before dragging you upstairs.

But not tonight.

You saw him out of the corner of your eye, whilst some other guy’s hands were on your hips, swaying to the beat of the loud pop music. He was leant up against the wall, beer in hand, some pretty girl by his side. Her hand was on his chest, their bodies dangerously close together. Her head was thrown back in a fit of laughter but Steve was only inching in closer to the girl, his lips millimeters away from her own.

By the time you blinked they were kissing, his large hands smoothing over the curve of her ass, her fingers tangled in his hair. You felt a pang to your chest, and you had no right to feel jealous, you knew that, but it still hurt seeing him with other people.

You caught his eye when he finally pulled away from the girl, a sly look on his face as he wiggled his fingers at you in a wave. You rolled your eyes as you left the poor guy on the dancefloor, marching into the kitchen with Steve trailing behind you.

Cause you don’t seem to like it when we talk

Pouring yourself another drink, Steve leant beside you on the counter as you did, “Didn’t know you were coming tonight.” He said with a shrug.

“Came with Munson.” You replied, taking a sip, eyes boring into Steve’s big brown ones over the rim of the plastic cup.

Steve scoffed at that, taking the cup from your hand and taking a sip of his own, “What, you fucking Eddie now?”

“I think you know the answer to that, Steve.” You snarked at him, snatching your drink back from his hand.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to that girl anyway? The pretty one?” You said, shooting him a coy look. Your finger poking at his firm chest.

“Nah,” he shrugged, “wasn’t really that into her.” Steve let his fingers wander up your bare arm, brushing against your goose pimpled skin, moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“No?” You questioned, “Or you just didn’t wanna tell her that you still fuck your ex? Hm, Harrington?”

Steve chuckled, the kind of laugh that kept you on your toes, the kind that had you eager to find out what else he had in store for you.

“Wasn’t as pretty as you.” Was all he said, leaning in closer to you, his breath fanning across your cheeks. His hands now sitting pretty on your waist.

“Yeah? Then why’d you break up with me, Steve?” He pulled away from you, hands still clutching your waist, a subtle frown tugging at his lips. “That’s right, I remember,” you rolled your eyes, a playful, yet hurt tone lacing your voice, “we don’t talk when something’s wrong.”

Steve rolled his eyes, a smirk painting his face as he shook his head, eyes lowering to the floor, “Talking’s boring, much prefer seeing you on your knees with your mouth open,” Steve spoke quietly, lips against your ear, “I’ll see you later, yeah?” He breathed against your lips, your eyes fluttering closed as the close proximity, his lips finally pressing to yours in a soft kiss.

We can fuck about it later, if you want

I’ll see you later. The words rang in your ears yet they were always true. You would always end up here. Back pressed up against Steve’s bedroom wall, legs wrapped around his waist, his lips hot on your neck.

Your shirt hanging off a lamp somewhere in his room, your skirt pushed high up your hips. Your fingers were in Steve’s unruly hair, tugging on the soft strands. He groaned into your neck at the gesture, teeth nipping at your skin.

“Why do we— fuck,” you moaned, “why do we always end up here, Steve?” Your head rolled back against the wall, mouth hanging agape as Steve began to move his lips south, mouthing at the skin spilling out of the cups of your bra.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it, sweetheart,” he cooed, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, “you don’t wanna get fucked, huh? Got someone else, is that it, baby?”

You laughed cynically, the sound pulling the boy out of the trance your tits induced him in, “You know I haven’t, Steve.”

“That’s the right answer,” Steve let his lips ghost over yours, exhaling into your mouth, “good girl.”

A whimper squeaked from your throat, skin hot and arousal pooling at your core. You gnawed on your bottom lip as Steve began to grind his crotch into you, his bulge pressing into where you needed him.

“Why? Would you be jealous if there was, Harrington?” You breathed with a smirk, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Steve sucked harshly on your nipple through the lace of your bra.

“No,” he grunted, face buried in your chest, “just hope you know who this pussy belongs to.”

He moved you to the bed now, setting you down on the sheets as he bowed to his knees on the floor. Flipping the pleats of your skirt up your stomach, Steve’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of the little damp patch on your pink cotton panties. He swallowed thickly as he leaned in closer, pressing a small kiss followed by a lick of his tongue to your covered cunt.

“Fuck.” You whined.

Steve loved to tease. Thrived for it, rather. Lived for the way you would ramble on, strung out moans trembling from your lips, begging for him to do something, anything. He loved the way your eyes would go all hazy, a little glassy, lips red from how hard you had to bite down on them.

You whimpered and whined and Steve continued to lick and suck at you over your panties, the material now surely soaked. It was all so hot and dirty, your legs shaking either side of Steve’s head, his large palms holding your soft thighs in place.

He groaned into your cunt, slender fingers finally pulling the cotton to the side, Steve’s skilled tongue finally making contact with your dripping pussy. You moaned loudly at the gesture, your fingers flying to his hair, tugging on the soft strands.

Steve chuckled as he pulled away, replacing his tongue with his fingers as he plunged two digits into your hole, pumping them in and out.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Steve cooed mockingly, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking harshly on the bud. His fingers picked up the pace, curling and hitting that spot with every stroke. The sound of Steve’s fingers fucking in and out of your wetness mixed in with your strangled moans the only sound bouncing off the walls of Steve’s bedroom.

“Oh, fuckfuckfuck,” you cried, hips bucking off the mattress, trying to meet the thrusts of Steve’s fingers, “don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Hmm,” Steve pondered, eyebrows pinched together as his thumb rubbed at your clit, “I think only good girls get to cum, no?” His fingers never relented as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your hands now fisting the sheets.

“Steve, please,” you breathed, eyes glassy and pleading as you looked down at the boy happily situated between your legs, a cruel smirk donning his lips.

“Y’gonna be good? Tell me who this pussy belongs to?” Steve quipped, eyes fixated on where his fingers were disappearing in and out of you.

“Yes– fuck! I’ll be good,” you moaned, back arching off the bed, on the cusp of your orgasm, one more stroke of Steve’s fingers, one more filthy word and you’d be a goner.

“What else?” Steve asked, matter of factly, desperately trying to ignore how his cock was straining against his jeans, fingers beginning to slow.

“Please,” you whined, eyes screwing together tightly, “yours! It’s yours, Steve.”

“Atta girl,” he cooed, Steve’s fingers picking up their pace once more. His lips wrapping around your clit, one hand clasping the sheets, the other hand found its way into Steve’s hair, tugging on the locks.

“Y’wanna cum, pretty?” He asked, fingers curling, tongue lapping at your throbbing nub.

Steve always found it so easy to switch, cruel and teasing in the build up but always found himself spilling pet names and praise when you were on the verge.

“Come on, I know you wanna cum. Think you can do that for me, sweet girl?”

“Oh,” you moaned, back arching, hips bucking up off the mattress, essentially grinding your pussy against Steve’s mouth, “right there, Steve, Jesus, ‘m gonna—“

Stars. Bright white stars circling your vision. Skin hot and clammy, every muscle in your body tense and trembling. You cried out the boy’s name as you came, chest panting and gasping for air.

“Fuck,” Steve groaned, totally in awe of your spent form before him. pussy and thighs soaked, dripping onto the sheets beneath you.

He pressed a sweet kiss to your thigh as you came down from your high, leaning back on his heels as he worked to unbuckle his belt. Steve rid himself of his jeans and boxers as quick as he could, hands smoothing their way up your body.

“Roll over for me, doll,” Steve whispered against your chest, “need to get my cock inside that pretty pussy, that okay?”

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, scrambling to your elbows as you rolled over and propped yourself up on the bed. You heard Steve rip open a foil wrapper before spitting into his palm from behind you, a quiet groan tumbling from his soft lips as he lubed himself up.

You felt his large hand grip your hip, the other wrapped around his cock, the tip swiping through your folds. You whimpered at the motion, desperate to have him buried inside you to the hilt. Steve chuckled at your reaction, a smirk donning his features as he pressed his cock into your entrance.

You cried out in pleasure at the feeling, Steve halting his movements, “Oh, what’s wrong baby?” He teased, hand stroking over the curve of your ass, “My cock too big for this little pussy, hm?”

You buried your face in the sheets, hands clawing at the material as Steve’s cock stretched you out. You mumbled something that resembled a ‘no’ into the sheets in response to the boy, eyes squeezed tightly as he thrust into you inch by inch.

“That’s my girl,” he cooed, “cause you’re gonna take it anyway, right?”

You tried to ignore the feeling in your stomach, the butterflies that flew from your gut to your heart as those words left Steve’s mouth, or rather your ex-boyfriend’s mouth. It was bitter sweet, those words sent a shiver down your spine and a flutter to your pussy. But all but reminded you that you weren’t his girl and it was strictly his cock talking.

Steve’s palm came down against your ass as he picked up the pace, his thrusts slow and deep, his hips slapping against you with every move. You wished you could see him right now, you knew he’d look so blissful. Head thrown back in pleasure, hair a tousled mess, lips parted and cheeks flushed pink.

You moaned loudly as Steve’s thrusts grew harsher, thick fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, tips pressing in hard, surely leaving pretty bruises for the morning. Next you knew he was towering over you, lips on your shoulder blades, his arms finding their way around your front, his hand cupping your cheek.

Steve’s mouth found your ear, teeth nipping at your earlobe before he spoke, “Pussy feels so good, and it’s all for me, yeah?” Steve whispered as his kisses found your neck, “Aren’t I the luckiest guy in the whole world.”

“Steve,” you moaned, craning your neck in a desperate attempt to catch his lips with your own. Failing miserably as Steve began to thrust faster, the frame of his bed shaking with every movement, his hips snapping against your ass.

“Fuck,” you whined instead, a strangled moan that was hiding at the back of your throat. Much smaller fingers curling around his own beside your head, your eyes fluttering closed as you tried to ignore the pressure building in your lower stomach.

Steve’s thrusts never relented, not for one second, cock fucking in and out of your sopping hole, the sounds of your wetness filling the room. His voice was gruff and raspy every time he spoke and it just turned you on more, you were sure the sheets were drenched.

“What’s the matter, pretty girl?” He asked, Steve’s skin clammy against your back, his chest hair prickling your skin, “Does it feel too good? You like when I fuck you like it’s gonna be the last time?”

Ex-boyfriend Steve Harrington was always a little bit of an asshole during your hookup encounters. Always a little too cocky, a tad too confident. That was clear when your brain regained full clarity. It would never be the last time though, you both knew that, always trying your hardest to stay single so you could fall into each other’s beds as soon as the clock hit midnight.

“Yes,” you whined, “yes, God—, I love it when you fuck me like this, Stevie.”

The boy moaned in response, low and rough. One hand slithered down the side of your body, inching closer to your clit. “Can’t get enough of you,” he started, fingers stroking over the nub as you hiked up your hips to allow him better access, “can’t get enough of this pussy.”

You could only moan out his name, all coherent thoughts out the window as he began to rub at your clit. That combined with his hard and deep thrusts were bringing you closer to the edge. You knew Steve was close too, his thrusts growing sloppy, his moans getting longer and louder were all tell tale signs.

“Wanna cum, Steve,” you breathed, “please?” You were never shy to beg when it came to Steve. You knew he loved it, and you always liked to please.

“Yeah? Wanna cum all over my cock?” He asked, fingers picking up their pace, “wanna make a mess together?”

Steve knew he couldn’t last much longer, your pussy felt too good, your moans too sweet to his ears. As soon as you moaned out a pleading ‘please’ from beneath, he was relentless.

Fingers rubbing at your clit, cock fucking in and out of you at lightning pace, the boy working fast to get you both to orgasm. You soon felt the metaphorical tether snap, your body became hot and clammy as you saw stars. Vision white hot as you cried out Steve’s name, fingernails leaving sweet crescent shapes in his hands.

Steve wasn’t far behind you, all the muscles in his body tensing as his toes curled in the carpet. Hot cum releasing from his cock as he came undone, “Oh,” he groaned, “fuckfuckfuck,” he chanted. He chest heaving against your back as you both collapsed on the bed.

The boy huffed a laugh as he came down from his high, pulling himself from you with a hiss. He rid himself of the condom as he disappeared to the bathroom.

He’d put you both to bed, in a t-shirt that wasn’t your own, where you’d try your best to fall asleep, trying not to think about the unresolved feelings you still had for one another.