older!flowershop owner!steve x fem!reader Vignette: one
A flower is a lovesome thing
A series of vignettes about falling for the charming owner of the flower shop you live above. 🪴
summary: smokey window first words and sweet apologies.
wc: 2.4k
warnings: 18+ for future vingettes, age gap, Steve is in his early 40’s (my fave), first meeting fluff, tension, mentions of steve smoking a cigarette. my hand kink most definitely revealed itself in this one folks.
author’s note: this little series won’t have a posting schedule, it will be as inspiration strikes. I just have always wanted to do this idea because I weirdly think Steve would actually really enjoy taking care of plants once he got the hang of it. I think it would be very relaxing for him, and I just know he’d talk to them all the time 🥹. [bloom for you masterlist]
Your apartment always smells so sweet.
Almost like how you’d imagine a sunset, dark purples bleeding into warm pinks, matching the flowers that bloom in the big windows of the shop underneath you. So when the musky smell of tobacco gets carried in by the wind dancing through the trees next to your open window. It’s impossible not to scrunch your nose as it cuts through the comforting floral like a knife.
You find a good stopping place to dog-ear the page of the book you’re determined to finish tonight before rolling off your bed. Bare feet hit the freezing wood of your apartment, silently cursing yourself for being too lazy to put socks on after your shower. Hopping across your bedroom using your area rugs like the floor is lava, the paneling creaks under every tip toed jump. Stopping near the side of your window, your curious eyes peek from behind the curtain, secretly hoping to see him. And when you find exactly what you’re looking for, your heart beats a little bit quicker in your chest.
His name is Steve, at least that’s what it says on his shop window that you’ve been too shy to step into since he moved in. Some days though, that you won’t admit are your favorites, the two of you share a small smile and a wave as you walk past that never fails to send butterflies tickling through the spaces of your ribcage. Making it nearly impossible to actually work up enough courage to go in and introduce yourself.
A dark brown smock is tied over the thick heather grey sweater covering his broad chest. A pair of scissors pokes out of the front pocket, the red handle facing up, probably shoved in there after hours of trimming. His dark amber, almost brown hair seems messier than usual, like he had been running his hands in it all day. And as the sunset hits your block just right, kissing everything in a pink tangerine, it makes the silver that weaves through his thick locks shine too.
Chestnut loafers cover his feet, the leather worn in from years of use with black socks that peek out from under the rolled up bottoms of his dark washed jeans. Long thick fingers hold his cigarette, a gold band around his middle gleams in the last bit of sun, making his tanned skin glow.
Thin silver rimmed glasses hang down the slope of his sharp nose, and a dusting of a five o’clock shadow peppers his strong jaw that he usually keeps clean shaven. You decide you like him best like this, something about him being a little disheveled endearing you.
The screen of his phone lights up catching his attention, and he quickly texts whoever it is back, his cigarette dangling dangerously from his plush bottom lip. His cheeks hollow as he takes another drag, shoving his phone deep in his pocket. And then it all happens so quickly, you don’t have any time to duck and hide when he looks up unexpectedly to exhale.
Heat spreads like wildfire across your skin when your gazes meet temporarily clouded from the smoke dissipating into the sky. It only gets worse when his full pink lips stretch wide revealing a perfect set of teeth.
It's so big that it pushes up the two moles that dot his cheek, and deepens his crows feet under his midnight hazel eyes. There’s a sweetness inside of it like his flowers and you can’t stop the shy one that pulls up your own in return. His kind greeting only lasts for a moment, smile dropping once he realizes he’s been smoking a cigarette right outside your apartment window.
”Oh wow, this is — this is so rude of me. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize your window was open.” He apologizes quickly, stomping out his nicotine fix on the sidewalk.
It’s the first time you’ve really heard his voice, and it drips like warm honey, helping you work up the courage to find your own.
”It’s okay, really. I should honestly be thanking you.” You manage, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, and you swear he watches the movement.
”Oh? And why’s that?” He finally grins again, crossing his arms over his chest as he takes a step back to the edge of the sidewalk to get a better look.
Craning his neck to meet your gaze, the unruly strand across his forehead that he always seems to be pushing back flops out of his face all on its own, giving you a good look at just how handsome he really is. The realization has you shamelessly check his hand for any sign of a wedding band, your pulse quickening when you find none.
”Ever since you opened, my apartment has never smelt better. You’re actually saving me a lot of money on candles.”
This earns you a laugh that floats up the space between you, his eyes glittering with something that makes your cheeks glow.
“Yankee might be mad at you though.”
”I think I can handle their legal team if need be.” He plays along, broad shoulders relaxing a little more before finally introducing himself. “I’m Steve, by the way.”
”I had this weird feeling that might be it.” You grin, still a little nervous and thankful that he can’t see the way your hips sway with giddiness.
“Really? What gave it away?”
His lips twitch at the sound of your giggle, a pink tongue darting out to wet them.
”It’s very nice to meet you, Steve.” You say sweetly, leaning forward just a little more, sucking at your bottom lip to stop the stupid smile that tries to split your face in two.
”It’s nice to meet you too, honey.” He agrees with the slightest hint of pink dusting his stubble covered cheeks.
There’s a brief moment of silence filled with the low hum of cars returning home from work and the last songs of the birds before retiring to their nests in the trees that line your block. Steve looks like he’s contemplating what he wants to say next, and there’s a part of you that becomes unsure if you should just say goodnight.
“You’ve never come into my shop, have you?” He finally says, breaking the tension with a card of his rebellious hair.
”No.” You smile sheepishly, before adding, “I’ve been meaning to but it always looks so busy, or I’m on my way to something.”
They sound like excuses, because they are.
”Well how about you come down now, and I can give you something that’ll get that nasty cigarette smoke out of there. I mean, I just trimmed some lavender and lilac for a wedding. No crowd cause we’re all closed up for the night.”
He’s full of reasons not to say no, and the playful wiggle of his thick eyebrows stops your conscious effort not to let your smile split your face in two. So with cheeks pushed up so high they almost hurt, you don’t.
”Let me put on my shoes.”
You’re not expecting to feel this shy when you meet him at the bottom of your staircase. But having him standing right in front of you and not waving from behind the shop window makes him feel a lot more real.
Steve is somehow even more handsome up close like this, the kind of handsome you only see in old Hollywood movies. Smoke with a hint of amber cling to the fabrics of his clothes, mixing with the sweet scents of the flowers he mentioned, and it’s intoxicating despite the way they clash.
”Hi, again.” He smiles, white teeth gleaming in the golden glow of dusk.
”Hi.” You smile back, stomach swooping at the sight.
He sticks out a large hand for you to shake, warmth unfurling over every inch of your skin when you slide your palm into his, watching his fingers envelope your hand completely.
“Maybe now you won’t be such a stranger.” He winks, shaking your hand a few times before letting you go too quickly for your liking.
”And now, maybe you won’t smoke under my window.” You add with an arch of your brow, trying desperately to regain your composure.
”Look, I don’t know how else to apologize for this besides forcing you to take some of the flowers I just spent the last three hours trimming.” He laughs softly, something playful in his stare. “I hope my physical labor is enough to show you just how truly sorry I am.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” You tease him with your own wink, relishing in the almost bashful way he shakes his head, before side stepping to open his shop door.
”After you.”
Stepping in, the entrance bell still rings, echoing in the dimly lit shop as a heady earthy smell surrounds you. The misters quietly hum, keeping the soil damp for the lush green ferns and pothos that spill out of their pots lining the walls. Flowers hang from the ceiling, their petals still vibrant in the low light making you realize why the smell was always so strong in your home. It's impossible not to take a deep breath to try and soak it all in.
”Wow Steve, it's really beautiful in here.” You gape, taking in every inch of it with wonder in your eyes.
”Thanks honey,” He says shyly as he closes the door behind you. The lightest press of his palm finds your lower back almost making you jump before your body begs you to lean into it. “Let me wrap those up for you and I’ll be right back.”
Walking away, Steve’s fingertips feel like a whisper dragging across where his palm just was, leaving goosebumps pebbling in their absence. You use this moment alone to let out the deep breath you’d been holding, as you watch this casual crush barrel down the path towards a real one. Tugging nervously at the bottom hem of your loose fitting sweater, your eyes trail over his front desk area nosely.
A half-drunk ‘Hawkins Tigers’ coffee mug sits on a stack of paper work leaving a dark brown ring on something you hope isn’t important. Next to it are a few half sharpened pencils scattered over what looks like wedding schedules, with a pile of pink eraser shavings next to it, like he had just had to change something. From the looks of it, something big. That’s when a small Polaroid tapped to his laptop right next to the mouse pad catches your gaze.
Glancing towards the back area where he’d disappeared through thick foggy plastic, you lean forward to get a closer look. It’s a younger version of him beaming with tears in his eyes next to a curly haired boy on what looks like graduation day.
The boy clings to him like you would with someone who is important in your life, and by the way it looks iron clad, you’d say the person who means the most in it. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, the sweetness of it all tugs at your heart and the edges of your mouth.
”Okay, I hope this is enough.” Steve says distractedly, coming out of the back still mid paper wrap, making you jump, because the bouquet he’s holding is so big that it nearly covers his entire head.
“Enough?” You gasp incredulously, “is there any left for the wedding?!”
This makes him snort, moving the flowers to the side so you can see his handsome face again.
“They’re in full bloom, it looks like way more than what it is. I promise there is plenty left for the wedding.” He grins, waving you off setting the bouquet down on his desk.
Steve holds the end of it with one big hand while pulling a roll of beige twine from his smock with the other. His knuckles move underneath his tan skin gripping the stems tighter as starts to twirl the string around pulling the flowers together. His sleeves are shoved up to his elbows, forearms flexing with each movement, and once he can let go, he replaces the twine for his scissors.
He cuts it so quick that if you blinked you’d miss it leaving himself a little slack before shoving it back in the front pocket he grabbed it from. His thick fingers move expertly, using them to tie a simple knot that's just tight enough to keep them in place. Lifting his handy work to his face, he adjusts the twine with the pads of them so it wraps perfectly stacked, finally handing it over to you once he’s satisfied.
”These are — wow, these are so pretty Steve. Thank you.” You whisper in awe of them up close.
Your fingers brush together during the pass off, the contact sending an electric jolt thrumming through your veins. A deep blush kisses the tips of his ears like he felt it too.
“It’s no problem at all sweetheart. I’m sorry again.” He smiles softly, hands hovering instinctively for a second to make sure you have a good grip.
“All is forgiven.” You whisper with your own smile, taking a big whiff, looking up at him from between the petals.
His eyes linger on you for a moment, taking in the lines and dips of your face like he’s trying to memorize this before clearing his throat.
“Now, you better start coming in to say hi. Or I’ll be forced to leave flowers at your doorstep till the guilt eats away at you.”
His joke takes you by surprise, earning a deep bellied laugh that lights up his whole face.
“I promise I’ll start saying hi.” You grin, adjusting the bouquet so you can see all of him while he’s still in front of you.
The two of you stand there, somehow so close the tips of your shoes touch. A charged silence falling between you as something new sparks and catches fire.
“I- I should get going.” You stutter out, tearing your eyes from his full mouth that you swear begs to be kissed.
“Yeah - yeah, of course. I’ll walk you out.” He coughs dryly, catching himself doing the same.
You try not to overthink how his palm finds the small of your back again. Or the way he lightly scratches at your spine when he says his final goodbye on your way out. The two of you stand at your respective doors, bumbling out one more flustered goodnight before you finally disappear behind yours.
That night your apartment smells like more than lavender and lilacs, it also smells like Steve.
warnings: fluff, grayson sad because joe's gotta leave :c, soft!joe ofc, joe just not wanting to leave his family ugh,emotional asf lwk, thats it i thhinkk?
word count: 1.81k
a/n: awh guys. daddy joe is back so is grayson ik u guys love them heh. this was super cute & fun to write, soo i hope you enjoy it as much as i did. <3
Joe regularly left for tours and films, it just became routine. To be fair, it was significantly easier before Grayson was born- Just because Joe didn't have to check up on you as much, or go cuddle his baby for an hour before leaving.
That was in the past though. Grayson was now three, toddling around, sucking on pacifiers, and juice boxes.
Grayson had only seen Joe leave a few times, but now as he grew older, He was more prone to catching him in the mornings instead of sleeping through it.
It was around 4:30 in the morning when Joe woke up. You woke up almost instantly, because one- your warm husband left the bed, leaving you to freeze- and two, he had to turn every damn light on to get dressed.
"Joe." You whispered, rolling over to his side of the bed to try and stay warm, but it was fading.
After getting no response, you said his name again a tad louder.
"Joe-" Your voice was gruff, full of sleep.
Your eyes fluttered open in a wince, immediately shielding your eyes from the lights. This time he turned, feeling guilty he'd woken you up, but at the same time he was glad you were up.
"Sorry-" He winced, walking over to the door to switch off the light.
"Sorry love." He added.
After the bed had gone cold, you slid out of the covers and threw your legs over the edge. You were very tired, but he had things to do.
He padded over to you, and held out his hands, beckoning for you to grab them. They were so warm- you could pull him back into bed right now.
He stood you up, and gave you a long, comforting hug. You were thiss close to falling asleep in his arms.
"Morning." He whispered into the top of your head, pressing a kiss there. His hands were undeniably soft against the bare skin on your waist where your shirt had ridden up.
"Don't want you to go.." Your voice was soft, almost a quiet babble.
He sighed, pulling you closer.
"I know it, But hey- This is my last tour for a few months." He hummed, one of his hands coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face.
"Mmh. You should stay."
"Your funny, sweet girl." He huffed a quiet chuckle.
"Mmm." You responded, half asleep.
"Okay- I gotta go get dressed, don't fall asleep on me or I'll never be able to leave." He chuckled, patting your back, and sitting you back down onto the bed.
"Just what I wanted." You giggled.
You could hear his golden, quiet laugh as he walked into the closet connected to the bathroom. You weren't sure if it was just your sleepy vision or what- But in the mornings he always looked like a goddess.
He started undressing right Infront of the door to the closet, and you just couldn't bring yourself to look away. He was beautiful.
"Why do you do this to me." You covered your face.
"Do what?" He let out a grunt while slipping into his plane clothes.
"Just be so damn sexy, then leave."
He laughed, like genuinely laughed. You were hilarious.
"You are ridiculous, honey." He shook his head.
"Its a genuine question!"
"Well.. I think- You'll be okay without me for a week or two." He snorted, still giggling from your earlier comment.
"Not hardly. Once your back I'm going to- " He cut you off.
"That's fine, you can do- whatever you want to me when I'm back. but you'll be alright while I'm gone. I promise." He smiled.
"Better keep your promise."
---
You and Joe chatted periodically while he was getting ready to leave. Occasionally he'd leave the room to make sure he had everything he needed in his suitcase packed.
It made you upset, you couldn't deny that. You hated when he left, because a couple weeks was hard enough especially with a toddler who yearns for his father.
The two of you had made your way into the kitchen, since you'd insisted on feeding him, and making him coffee before he went. He had tried to let you relax for the morning, but being the bossy wife you were, you still did it.
The smell of eggs, and toast filled the kitchen. It smelt good, and he had to admit it was making his mouth water. The light above the island was warm, almost a honey color. It just made you like 10 times more gorgeous.
After cooking his breakfast, and brewing his coffee you sat it on the counter, and nodded towards it.
"Eat my beautiful, loving, sweet, pookie bear." You quipped.
"Don't call me that, ever again-" He laughed, making you giggle with him.
"I will for sure call you that from now on-" You smiled, standing behind him as he leaned against the island and ate.
You raked your fingers through his hair, twirling the wavy pieces around your fingertips.
"I'm gonna miss you." You spoke to him softly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.
"Your gonna make me sad." He murmured, looking over his shoulder, before turning his body fully towards you.
"That was the plan." You smiled softly, but it didn't quite reach your eyes.
Joe noticed, and he felt smaller, his heart ached.
"Don't do that to me." He whispered, pulling you into a hug, completely forgetting about the food.
Just as his eyes shut, Joe had the odd feeling of being watched- It's something he's picked up after you gave birth. He glanced behind him, slowly releasing you.
It was Grayson.
His pacifier was still in his mouth, accompanied by his little blanket, and that worn out bunny stuffed animal he carried around 24/7.
"Heyy.." He spoke softly, leaving you to crouch down Infront of Grayson.
"Daddy-" He cooed, waddling over to Joe. He didn't seem right to him. Usually he'd be more excited to see him, and giddy. Its almost like he knew Joe was leaving.
"What's the matter, huh?" Joe welcomed Grayson into his arms, looking down at him.
Grayson looked up at him with watery eyes, and a wobbly chin. He knew, and it just made Joe feel horrible.
"Oh, dude.." He sighed, scooping him up into his arms, and holding him close.
You watched from your spot against the counter, frowning softly. Grayson had recently started to do this, and it just made this more chaotic than it needed to be.
"Hey-- Hey, its okay buddy. Daddy's not gonna be gone for long, I promise-" He spoke to his weeping son.
"Daddy weave-" He whined, his face buried into Joe's neck.
"Yeah, but listen to me- I'll be back before you know it. And when im back, Daddy will spend all day with you if he had to. Okay?" Joe cooed, trying his hardest to soothe Grayson,
"Otay-- " He sobbed into his fathers neck.
Joe stood there and held Grayson for what felt like 15 minutes. Eventually you joined the hug for a few seconds, kissing the side of Grayson's head.
After Grayson had been calmed down, he was sat onto the counter, sitting right Infront of Joe.
He'd been eating out of the same cup of applesauce for the past 5 minutes. He was a slow eater when he was sleepy.
"Eat bubs-" Joe mumbled, holding the spoon up to Grayson's lips. He was falling asleep- on the counter- eating applesauce.
"Goodness." He sighed, accepting the fact he was continuously falling asleep, and putting the spoon away.
You watched the sweet interaction, and reached a hand out to his back to rub broad stripes up his spine.
"When do you have to go?" You spoke softly.
"Round 6." He mumbled, scooping up a sleepy Grayson onto his hip, turning to you.
"Mm." You hummed in acknowledgment, leaning up to kiss him.
He kissed you back, though staying mindful of the child on his side, he pulled away before anything would start to escalate.
"I wish you could go with me." He hummed, kissing your cheek.
"I know."
---
5:45 had hit, and it was time for Joe to depart. He obviously couldn't leave without cuddling you guys to death. Grayson had woken back up after feeling Joe switch him over to you.
Standing by the front door, Grayson was sat on your hip, and Joe was wrapped around you. These moments were always special, but they made you very emotional. Everyone was emotional. It was gonna be hard these next few weeks, but you knew the moment he got home he'd shower you in affection, and take care of you both all himself.
He slowly unraveled his arms and gave your sides a gentle pat, then switched over to grab Grayson.
He knew Grayson was trying his hardest not to start crying again. He trusted his dads words when he said he'd come back.
"Love you buddy." Joe mumbled into the side of Grayson's head, his thick dark curls tickling his nose.
"Mm-Dada." He cooed, looking up at Joe with wide glossy eyes.
He peppered a couple kisses to Grayson's forehead, before sliding him back over to you.
"Alright." He sighed, fixing his hair by sliding a hand through it.
He unlocked the door, and opened it, sliding his luggage into the hallway of the apartment complex. He slid his keys out of his pocket and sighed.
"I love you both, I'll see you soon." He murmured, leaning over to give you one last kiss, one to Grayson as well.
"Say- bye bye daddy-" You looked down at Grayson, lifting his arm up.
You and Grayson watched Joe slowly walk down the hallway, disappearing into the elevator. Grayson's little chin began to wobble, and a tiny whimper left his lips.
"Hey.. It's okay. We can call daddy later, yeah?" You cooed, reaching for the doorknob to shut it.
---
Hours had passed, and it was around 1 when you got a call from Joe. Grayson had been insisting on calling him the second he'd left, but it was a flight from California to Chicago.
"Grayson-" You looked down at the whiny toddler laying on your chest. " Daddy's calling, buddy-" You smiled, watching that drooly smile break out on his face.
You answered his facetime call, and was instantly met with the face of your husband.
"Lookie, buddy!" You gasped, and Grayson let out a squeal.
"Hello, loves-" Joe chuckled, glancing down at his phone whilst trying to navigate throughout the airport.
"Dadada!" Grayson giggled.
"Daddy's here, Hi buddy-" He cooed, his perfect smiling catching your eye,
"And hello beautiful, i see you." He smiled at you, and you felt your cheeks flush with blood. What a flirt.
Even over the phone, thousands of miles away- he was able to make you blush.
I still don’t know how to use tumblr. I just like and repost.
I was thinking.. I would love to see a fanfic of Kurt x yn
Yn starts dating Kurt when he’s a loser and had no following. Yn teaches him how to be more put together? As in wash up better, clean etc. Kurt later gets big with streaming and it gets to his head. Kurt breaks up with his girlfriend and maybe a yr or two he starts thinking of the girl who was with him since the start.
I had so many requests from joes characters but idk how I’m supposed to request to other writers 😭
warnings : explicit sexual content; SMUT; 18+; oral (f receiving); protected piv; dirty talk; gator is a jerk; loosing virginity; no use of y/n; possible grammatical errors; not proofread; english is not my first language
💌 lillie talks : i am so sorry for what i’ve just wrote 😐 i promise it’ll get better
𓊈 wicked games masterlist 𓊉 part 4 | part 6..
He knew that in a few days, he would take your virginity off. You didn’t know he would also take your dignity with.
A week has passed since your date with Gator, and you hadn’t heard a word from him since he dropped you off at your house that night. He hadn’t texted, and you were too shy to text him. If he really wanted to talk to you, he would’ve texted no ?
You were worried. What if the date just made him realize that he didn’t wanted to go further with you ? What if he’d suddenly changed his mind ?
You walked back and forth in your dark room only lit up with a small warm light beside your bed. The moonlight spilling through the curtains, your father snoring next room, you found yourself questioning how was it possible for your mother to sleep next to him.
Sometimes you would stop and lay on your floor and scroll on pinterest to find ideas for whatever you were thinking about. You would then grab your diary and write few words inside that led to nothing more than just questioning your entire existence.
Dear Diary,
What am I doing ?
Fancy letters, few words, a question point, and nothing else getting out of your head.
Just for you.
You’d signed next to your name before throwing it aside. What were you doing ? That was a great question.
You rolled on your back and stared at the ceiling. There was still those little phosphorescent stars you glued with your cousin years ago. That just made you roll your eyes and sat up.
Your eyes wandered around your room for a moment, it was messy. Clothes discarded on the floor because you were too lazy to put them in the washing machine. You found yourself smelling them one by one to see which ones were clean or not. You folded the clean ones and pilled the dirty ones on a chair.
Your makeup was once again scattered across the floor next to your mirror. You leaned down to collect them and put them back in their bag. Also taking the time to put away your hair straightener that was tangled on the floor for the past two weeks.
You looked at yourself in the mirror for a moment. A tight, white, long sleeved shirt clung to your body, letting the pink color of your bra show up through the fabric. This with a short shorts that highlighted your curves.
Your hair were already messy from laying back in your bed and then on the floor and running your fingers in them too many times. You gently grabbed the brush and arranged your hair a little.
Is he thinking about me ? Does he still wants me ? Was I just a game for him ? Am I just one between many girls ? Am I enough ?
Too many questions that just made you exhale loudly and throw your brush away to ran both your hands on your face.
You couldn’t stop thinking about him. About his stupid cocky smile you loved so much. About the way he called you a pretty girl and the way the word ‘baby’ slipped through his lips by accident last week. And the way his thumb brushed your hand gently during your date. And how he was looking at you during Sunday’s service. And, and, and, and…
…and… Ugh, a new pimple. You rolled your eyes and sighed. You quickly grabbed one of your pimple patches, a little yellow star, and placed it on your white spot.
You started walking around your room again. Stopping to adjust your blankets and pillows, that stupid rug whose corner was stuck under the bed. You made sure your plushies were comfortable in your bed, under the covers but not too much, it was already hot outside.
Your father had stopped snoring a long time ago but you only noticed when he quietly opened your bedroom’s door.
“Still not sleeping ?” He whispered. You looked at him, he was surprisingly not wearing his pjs but an outfit he would wear to work.
You started wondering if time passed too fast and if the sun was gonna rise up soon, “My boss called me, they said it was urgent.” You slowly nodded, “But i’ll be back in the morning.”
“Okay.” You smiled to him.
He smiled back, “Bye, baby, I love you.” He sent you a kiss.
“Love you too.” You sent him a kiss too and then he disappeared again.
You grabbed your favorite book, maybe it was gonna distract you from Gator. But you were wrong, after reading three sentences you closed the book and threw it on your nightstand.
You fell back on your bed, your eyes lied almost immediately on the hanging cross on top of your bed. That made you close your eyes and take a deep breath.
You let yourself slip from the bed to the floor, your legs now tangled on the carpet.
“Why is love so hard.” You muttered to yourself.
You opened your eyes again and glanced around your room. Your gaze ended on a pink box decorated with a pink ribbon, sitting ontop of your closet. Oh, I haven’t opened this box in a long time, you told yourself.
You quickly stood up and climbed on a chair, stretching your arms to try and catch it. Once it was in your hands, you jumped down from the chair and put it gently on the bed. Inside there was just some childhood memories, nothing really important but those things mattered at a moment in your life. Few toys, postcards from a little bit of everyone, handmade bracelet you did with your best friend, Lucie, concert tickets, amusement parks plans, etc…
And then a picture of Mason, you and Chloe. Their arms wrapped around your shoulders, you were laughing. You sighed loudly this time.
The day after your date with Gator, you’d met her at the grocery store. She was buying condoms and lubricant. When she spotted you it was almost like she couldn’t believe it. She quickly walked toward you.
“I didn’t know you were back.” She fake smiled to you.
“I’ve been here for more than seven months now, but yeah i am.”
“I’m not sure but I don’t think summer break is that long.” She joked. It’s not funny. She’s not funny. “We should meet up some days.”
You shrugged, “Yeah, I guess ?”
She looked at you from head to toe, before smiling to you hypocritically and turning her heels.
You sighed once again and put the photo back in the box before closing it and setting it down somewhere on the floor.
You found yourself lying on the floor for the sixth time tonight. Your hands rubbed your face and lingered on it for a moment.
You didn’t knew what to feel, you didn’t knew what to think, and you didn’t knew what to do or say. Where you supposed to text him or wait for him to do it. But at the same time you didn’t knew if he was gonna do it and you couldn’t wait your entire life for it, could you ?
Your floortime should give you answer like it usually does, but tonight after trying six times even the wooden planks of your bedroom couldn’t help you. Your mind was way too busy.
You rolled on your stomach and grabbed your diary again.
Dear Diary,
What if it’s not meant for me, love ?
Just for you.
You only fell in love twice in your life, the first ended badly but you’d hope for the second time. Maybe too much ? Maybe this is why Gator just disappeared without saying any word. Maybe you were wanting too much from him. Maybe you were too much for him.
Your eyes shut down for few seconds, inhaling the fresh breeze of spring’s end passing through your window. You felt comfortable on that floor, so comfortable you almost fell asleep.
But then a sound of boots hitting the floor echoed behind you. Your eyes snapped open as you stood up and turned around quickly. Only to see Gator standing in front of your opened window. You thought he was done with you for an entire week and now he was right in front of you.
“Gator what the fuck.” Your eyes widened and your brows furrowed, “What are you doing here ?”
“Shh.” He pressed his index on his lips, “Yer parents are sleeping.”
You shook your head, still shocked from his presence here, in your bedroom, at 2 in the morning. “My dad isn’t even there and my mom’s sleeping like a rock.”
His cocky grin appeared on his face, “Perfect then.”
He was still wearing his uniform, maybe it was the end of his shift. A tight black shirt that clung to his muscled arms, cutting his arm tattoo in half and his sheriff’s vest ontop of it. His cargo pants revealed more than intended, a hostler was tied around his right thigh. And his boots were full of mud and leaving his footprints on your floor.
You glanced down at them, “Your shoes Gator !”
He laughed quietly before taking them off and leaving them on the spot he’d already dirtied.
You took a deep breath, “Okay, what are you doing here.”
“’Just thought I could come and say hi.”
Your brows furrowed, “After ignoring me for a week ?”
“What’s wrong ?”
“Everything’s wrong, Gator.” You shook your head, “You can’t just ignore me like that and then climb through my window in the middle of the night.”
His eyes searched around your room, that cocky grin of his still on his lips, “Ya on yer period or something ? Yer so sensitive, god..”
Your brows were fully frowned now, “What ? No.” You shook your head, “And even if I was this wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“Okay, okay.” He moved around your room and started pulling his sheriff’s vest off.
“What are you doing.”
“What do ya think i’m doing.” He shrugged, setting his vest down on your bed, before untying his hostler and dropping it on the bed too.
You walked toward him, “Gator you can’t put a gun on my bed.”
He looked at you and laughed, “’K” He grabbed it again and dropped it beside his boots.
“And neither on my floor !”
“Then where do ya want me to put it.”
“I don’t know, just not in my room- what are you even here for ?”
He exhaled slowly, “Told ya, ‘wanted to say hey.”
“Well you didn’t even said it but hi to you too.” You fake smiled, “Now please leave.”
He laughed bitterly, “No ‘m not.”
“What do you mean you’re not, of course you are.” Your arms crossed on your chest, making your boobs press together.
His eyes immediately lowered down on them and he bit his lips, the corner of his mouth twisting.
You pushed him in the shoulder, “Stop that.”
“What, baby girl, ‘thought ya liked it.”
“I don’t.”
He leaned closer to whisper in your ear, “Well ya did last week when ya were humping me.”
Your heart missed a beat and you froze. You hated that your cheeks flushed pink, making him smile completely now. You didn’t wanted him to know the effect he had on you, at least not right now. Now you were mad at him.
What kind of person ghost someone for an entire week and then just appear in their bedroom in the middle of the night.
He leaned down again, his lips brushing your ear now, making you shiver, “’kept thinking about the way ya were moaning my name.”
You hated the thing he was doing to you, whatever it was, “Gator- please just…”
“Just what, baby ? Tell me.” He brushed a strand of hair behind you ear, his eyes coming back to your face.
“Tell me why you ghosted me for an entire week.” This made him pull back and exhale slowly, “I was worried and I thought I did something wrong, and after thinking about it for the hundredth times i realized I did nothing wrong.” You shook your head, your brows pulled together, “So why ?” You asked quietly.
“I already told you my life was complicated and I had to take care of some things this week.” He swallowed, “I didn’t had a single second for myself.”
Your lips parted as you were about to answer but he took the words out of your mouth and blinked, “I know I should’ve texted you and no I don’t want to talk about it.”
You exhaled slowly and nodded, “Okay.” You murmured very quietly. Your gaze looked down, “I missed you.” You admitted.
His smirk found its way back to his mouth and he leaned closer again, “What ? ‘Can’t hear ya, pretty girl.”
You grinned and let out a small laugh, “I missed you.”
“’S’that a grin ‘m seeing ?” He lifted your chin with his index and middle finger.
You laughed fully now. You were so easy every time you were around him. So ready for everything he wanted to do, at least for now.
“’Missed our make out sessions too.”
You smiled at him and bit your lips. His mouth finally connected to yours and he started kissing you slowly and deeply.
His hands quickly found your body as one cupped your butt cheeks and the other held your hip firmly. He pulled you flush against his chest and held you so tight you almost couldn’t breath. His tongue slipped inside your mouth and swirled with yours, collecting your saliva like he wanted to keep it forever.
His fingers hooked the hem on your shorts and pulled them down in one smooth motion, letting the thin and tight fabric brush your soft skin, and leaving you in your pink lace panties, matching with your bra.
It took one second for him to take off your shirt too, while you raise your arms automatically so he could get it off of you. For the first time he was seeing you without clothes on, not fully naked but he was still entering your intimacy.
He pulled away to look at you, his eyes were sparkling and that cocky grin spread across his face. “God, look at you.” You blushed, “So beautiful for Gator.”
You grinned shyly, wrapping your arms around yourself. You felt so vulnerable right now.
“Don’t.” He grabbed your arms and pulled you back against him.
You looked up at him, he was so beautiful, so perfect in your eyes. Your hands rested on his chest, fisting his shirt slightly. His eyes were glistening, the bruise on his cheek had moved to under his right eyes. You brushed it gently with two fingers, studying his reaction.
His hands moved to your hips again, holding you tight. You were so beautiful, so innocent in his eyes. Your lips parted slightly, your pretty eyes looked up at him like he was your God. Your heart beat was fast against his, his was slow and steady. His thumb brushed your soft skin slowly.
Then you pulled him down by the shirt for another kiss, it was messier this time. Your salivas dripped on your chins, wet sound echoed through the calm of your room as his tongue moved with yours.
He slowly guided you back to your bed, pushing you down on it with his own body when the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. His body was now hovering over yours, his lips still connected to your lips.
His mouth moved down to your neck, licking and sucking everywhere he could. He trailed kisses down your chest, teeth grazing the hem of your bra and sucking a soft spot. Kissing everywhere until he reached your stomach, making him fall on his knees to the ground.
His fingers hooked in the hem of your panties and he slid them down your legs so slowly it made you shiver, all while looking deep inside your eyes.
He took a second to look at your wet pussy, “Already wet for me, huh ?” He teased with his cocky smile.
Without hesitation he shoved his face into your core and licked a long stripe from your hole to your clit. The sensation of his wet tongue on your wet clit making your body arch against his.
“Oh-” You moaned quietly.
His tongue started moving between your folds, circling your clit in a rhythm that fastened every second.
You had no idea what he was doing, this was new to you. But the feeling was surely way too good for you, you threw back your head back in the mattress, guiding your hand down to grab his hair.
His tongue began to thrust in and out of your dripping hole. His lips latched onto your clit and sucked it slowly, flicking his tongue over the sensitive nerves. A wet sound echoed through the air and the scent of your arousal perfumed the room.
“Gate-” You whimpered.
Your chest moved fast, your legs trembled and your fingers pulled his hair slightly. You felt your lower stomach twist and an overwhelming sensation climbing up your whole body. You were close.
“’Taste so good.” He muttered in your heat, his deep voice vibrating into your core.
“Gator- i’m close.” You managed to say, your eyes completely shut down now and your hand fisting the sheets.
“Cum on my face, pretty girl.”
You only needed those words for you to come undone from his mouth with a loud moan. Your thighs closing around his head and your walls clenching around his tongue.
When he pulled away, he kept that cocky grin on his face. His chin was glistening from your leak and he licked his lips clean, tasting you again.
You took a moment to catch your breath, finally opened your eyes and glanced down, he was smiling and biting his lips.
His face quickly climbed back to yours and your lips connected together, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
“So fucking pretty..” He whispered breaking the kiss for a second.
His hands wandered on your body, pressing your ass roughly to leave a red mark. His fingers caressed your arching back until they reached your bra and unclisped it so smoothly you were surprised. He grabbed it quickly to threw it somewhere around the room and pulled away for a moment just to admire them for the first time.
“Yer tits are so perfect.” His thumb circled one of your nipple slowly, making it harden. You felt so much more vulnerable now that you were completely naked under him.
His free hand moved to his pants and unbuckled it before standing up to take it off. His shirt followed a second later and so his boxer, letting his dick spring free in front of you. He leaned down and grabbed a condom in his pants pocket before climbing back ontop of you, his thick erection pressed on your thigh.
“Gator, what are you doing ?” You frowned.
He brushed your cheek with his thumb, “Just relax.” He said quietly, his breath hot against your mouth.
His other hand grabbed himself to rub his tip on your wetness, making you whimper.
He ripped the condom open with his teeth and spit the small piece that was in his mouth. He quickly pulled it on his length before laying back down on you and grabbing himself again to tease your entrance.
Then he finally pushed inside with one thrust, he was completely shoved deep inside you, causing a burning pain in your lower stomach.
You gasped and threw your head back in the sheets. He was big, way too big to the point were it felt like he was splitting you open. The grip of his hands hardened on your hips, keeping you in place, while his mouth was attached to your neck.
“Shh.. ‘know you can take it.” He whispered in your ear, starting to move his dick inside you.
Your back arched and you moaned from the fullness, “Gate-”
He pulled out slowly, letting you feel each vein of his long cock, before slamming back into you and setting a fast pace. Your fingers dug in his shoulder blades, probably leaving scars. His balls smacked into your ass and the movement of his dick inside you made a sticky sound.
His body straightened over you to fuck you harder, his fingers gripping your skin so hard to keep you in place it was almost hurting. His thrusts became longer and deeper, your moans became louder and stronger.
His hips slammed so hard into yours that your eyes rolled behind your eyes. Your bed headboard’s hitting the wall on each one of his thrusts.
“Such a good girl fer’me-” He almost whimpered, “Takin’ me so well-”
You were already overwhelmed and close to the edge as he kept hitting your g spot in a steady rhythm. Your walls began to clench around his length, sucking him inside you.
“Fuck-” You moaned, your back arching even more.
You felt yourself getting closer and closer quicker than expected. And it only took few more seconds for Gator to hit that spot deep inside you that made your legs tremble and cum around his dick with a broken moan.
You didn’t even felt him finish, not a sound came out of his mouth, just a loud gasp. He crashed over you and tried to catch his breath while his dick softened inside you, both of your chests moving heavily against each other.
Your eyes finally swapped open when he pressed a small peck on your neck and pulled out of you before standing up from the bed. He leaned down immediately after taking the condom off, closing it with a knot and throwing it away in your little trash bin, and grabbed his scattered clothes.
You sat up and pulled your legs up toward your chest, your arms wrapping around them to hide your naked body, “What are you doing ?” You frowned.
“‘M leaving,” he puts on his pants, “What do ya think ‘m doing.”
“You’re not staying ?” You shook your head.
“Why shoulda stay ?” He puts his boots on, and grab his vest.
You shrugged and blinked, “I don’t know..”
He glanced down at you still undressed on the bed, he took one step and leaned down, holding himself upright with both his hands on the mattress and kissed your lips softly.
“Ya did so great.”
He pulled away, puts his vest back on and his hostler.
“But-” Your brows remained frowned.
“What ?” He stopped in front of you.
“I thought you were gonna- i don’t know, stay.”
He laughed, “Ya expected me to cuddle ya or something ?”
You nodded slowly, making him froze for a second. “’M not that typa guy.”
You nodded slowly, swallowing your spit hardly, “okay.” You murmured, looking away.
His hand reached for you cheek and turned your head toward him to kiss you one last time before turning around and walking to your window.
“Gator ?”
He turned back around, “Mm ?”
“Do you like me ?” You searched his eyes.
“Why ya asking me that ?” He frowned.
“Answer my question.”
He smirked, “I don’t like nobody, baby.”
Your face dropped, something in your heart broke and you looked away, unable to look at him anymore.
You just heard him climb out of your window, his large boots hitting the ground before hearing his truck start few minutes after.
You didn’t knew how to feel, neither what to do. You were just a game for him, just another girl between all of them. Just a plus in his body count.
He didn’t just fucked you, he took your virginity and your dignity with him. He ran after you for more than two months and he just disappeared after taking all the innocence you’d left.
A small tear fell from your eyes, you couldn’t believe what he’d just said, you couldn’t believe he’d actually pronounced those words.
This isn’t how you’d imagined your first time… you didn’t know how you’d imagined your first time actually. But it was certainly not like that.
But you realized..
He didn’t say he missed me once, he didn’t say he liked me once. He never made things that could make me think he loved me, i was just too lost in his beautiful hazel eyes, those hateful hazel eyes.
summary: Steve swears it’s genetics, but one cannot grow muscles overnight. Not unless they’re on steroids, right? Well, you, Dustin, and Eddie are determined to find out. Together, you come up with a list of ridiculous tests to put your boyfriend through, all in the name of uncovering the truth. What you didn’t expect, however, was for those tests to uncover something else entirely. And for Steve to remind you why the two of you had been falling apart lately.
Heavily inspired by Purple & Cigarette Smoke by Olivia Rodrigo.
warnings: Short smut, p in v, dirty talking, profanity, lots of angst, mean Steve, miscommunication, and cheating accusations. Not edited yet. Minors do not read!
"I HAVE A QUESTION?"
You raised your hand, sinking back into the cushions and stretching your legs out in front of you.
"It's not about Spider-Bug," You clarified, watching Dustin’s face light up at your supposed interest, only for it to immediately twist into a scowl. "It's about privacy rights and civil lawsuits."
“First of all, his name is Spider-Man, not Spider-Bug,” Dustin scoffed, raising a finger matter-of-factly. “Second of all, spiders aren’t bugs, so, stop getting them mixed up. And third, none of this violates anyone’s privacy rights because they were all taken in public. Therefore, I can’t get sued.”
"Right..." you muttered out of the corner of your mouth, glancing past the boy to the bulletin board behind him. "Because all of this is normal?"
The board was covered in newspaper clippings and photographs, countless shots taken of different men, ranging in age from their twenties to their early thirties. All of whom Dustin had, at one point or another, suspected of being the masked vigilante.
"Sweetheart, it's all in the name of public safety," Eddie chimed in beside you, flashing a lopsided grin. He was wearing a T-shirt with "Spidey Hunters Club" printed on the front. "If you think about it, we're doing New York a favor."
"I don't think about it because I'm not a creep."
"Caring about public safety does not make you a creep!" Eddie shot back, straightening up and jabbing a finger at your face. "You seriously need to stop throwing that word around so casually."
You narrowed your eyes at him. "Is this because I called you a creep at Hot Topic the other day and the security guard threw you out of the mall?"
"You got me banned!" Eddie shot back. "All because I said low-rise jeans should make a comeback."
"Ah, there you go again," You clicked your tongue, gesturing toward him with an open palm. "Talking about belly buttons and butt cracks like a creep."
"They have a picture of me on the window!"
"Both of you shut up!" Dustin yelled, silencing you both. "We're not here to discuss what happened at the mall the other day," he continued, marching over to Eddie and planting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We're gathered here today because, after all these years...I finally know who Spider-Man is."
"Uh-huh." You looked between Dustin and Eddie for a second, unimpressed. "Actually, I’m here because your mommy paid me to babysit you for..." You glanced at the clock on the wall. "Five hours."
"I'm twenty. I don't need a babysitter."
"That’s not what your mom said, Dustin-Hun-Buns.”
"Stop calling me that!"
"Alright, everyone calm down before I get angry." Eddie suddenly stood, holding both hands out between you and Dustin in a peacekeeping gesture.
You both paused to stare at him blankly.
"...Sorry."
"Anyway, let's cut the chase," Dustin clasped his hands together before returning to the board. With a theatrical gesture, he removed a newspaper clipping that was covering one of the photographs. "Ladies and gentlemen, our Spider-Man is..."
"Steve?" You and Eddie exclaimed in unison.
"Yes!" Dustin burst out, grinning from ear to ear.
You blinked. “No—”
“Just think about it for a second!” Dustin interrupted you. “Have you noticed Spider-Man follows us everywhere we go? For example, that one time we visited Hawkins and you almost got attacked by those bats, remember? Yeah, Spider-Man was there,” You and Eddie nodded along. You supposed that was a weird coincidence.
“Then that other time when we traveled to California and you almost got hit by a taco truck? He showed up there too. So, it has to be one of us, and the only logical answer is Steve!”
“Steve’s not Spider-Man,” You argued, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s impossible.”
“But it’s not!” Dustin countered, pointing at the evidence behind him. “When was the last time you saw Steve play basketball or hit the gym?”
You fell quiet, genuinely thinking about it.
“Never!” Dustin threw his hands in the air. “Because he doesn’t work out. So how is he so big?”
“Oh.” Eddie frowned as you wandered over to the board for a closer look. “I thought we’d all just agreed he started doing steroids one day.”
“Steve doesn’t like talking about that,” You replied, squinting as you compared your boyfriend’s picture to Spider-Man’s. Side by side, you couldn’t help but notice how similar their physiques were. “He says it messes with his self-esteem and makes him cry.”
“Because he’s lying!” Dustin was quick to accuse. “That’s just a rumor Robin spread around to get us off his back, and we believed her.”
“I mean, it does make sense why he’d turn to drugs though,” Eddie mumbled, his gaze drifting blankly toward the wall. “We all know how badly Billy beat him up that one time in high school. And then there’s all those unresolved issues he’s got with his parents. He probably hates himself for it…”
“Okay, forget about that for a second,” Dustin cleared his throat, clearly annoyed. “How do you explain his quick reflexes, huh? Steve literally caught a moving drone with one hand the other day at the park. He didn’t even look up once.”
“Okay, this is crazy.” You’d finally heard enough. “Steve’s not Spider-Man. Trust me, I’d know.”
“Oh, really?” Dustin challenged.
You narrowed your eyes. “Uh-huh, really.”
“Okay, then. I’m sure he hasn’t been acting weird lately then,” Dustin began, and you immediately tensed. He knew exactly what he was doing. “And I’m sure he’s never late to your dates. Or that he never sneaks out at night to do God knows what. I’m also sure you don’t have to chase him down for answers you know he’ll never give you.”
“Right,” you replied, forcing the word out.
“Ouch.” Eddie whispered into the awkward silence.
You threw him a glare.
Dustin grinned, satisfied he’d hit a nerve. “But you know, we could always test the theory, just in case.”
You didn’t answer for a while. The greater part of you, the logical and mature side, knew this was all ridiculous. A figment of a twenty-year-old’s imagination. But there was another part of you—the part that always stayed up late waiting for Steve to come back to bed, or cried herself to sleep when he didn’t show up to your dates, that couldn't help but wonder. Was he really hiding something?
“And how exactly are we supposed to test this theory, Dustin-Hun-Buns?” You relented at last.
Dustin grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”
TEST ONE: For scientific purposes, and scientific purposes only, we must ensure that the subject has not undergone any alteration to its natural form. AKA, we must make sure that it does not exhibit symptoms characteristic of arachnids spiders. This includes, among other things, the expulsion of webs through places with holes.
You read it appropriately a hundred times, and approximately a hundred times, your face scrunched up in mortification. The expulsion of webs. Through places with holes. At the thought of it, you turned to the side and gagged a little.
"What's the matter with you?" Steve asked, walking into the kitchen just in time to catch you.
“Uh, nothing!” you blurted, crumpling Dustin’s notes in your fist and hurriedly tucking them behind your back. Steve gave you a funny look, unconvinced. “I was just thinking about that one time we walked in on Hopper making out with Joyce and it was so awkward. Remember?”
“Please don’t remind me,” Steve sighed, shutting his eyes in agony as if to erase the memory. “The stick was already in the hole.”
“Jesus,” You grimaced, trying to push the images from your mind. “Anyways, now that we’re talking about holes, I have something silly to ask you.”
“Yeah?” Steve hummed, only half-listening. A notification on his phone had already stolen his attention. “I’m listening, baby.”
“Well, for research purposes…” You began reluctantly, sneaking another glance at the crumpled note hidden behind your back. “And research purposes only, have you experienced…weird things coming out of you recently? Like, uh, webs or something?”
“No, I’m constipated, honey,” Steve answered vaguely, completely unaware of what he was saying as he continued typing on his phone.
Your face dropped. “Right, so, no webs…at all?”
“No, I haven’t gone in like two days.” Steve continued typing, his dismissal evident.
Without warning, you planted yourself in front of him, purposefully invading his personal space. He looked up eventually, his fingers stilling over his phone at the sight of your pinched brows and flushed cheeks. He knew you were pissed.
“What?” he asked, completely clueless.
“You’re doing it again.” You told him.
Steve frowned before following your gaze down to his phone. “Oh.” He quickly shoved the device into his back pocket. “Sorry, baby. It’s work.”
“Oh, they text you on Sundays now?” You asked, letting the words come out flat.
Steve’s shoulders tensed, and you could practically see the wheels turning as he scrambled for an excuse. Anything that would get you off his back.
“Yeah, it’s…uh, about this field trip we’re having next week. We’re still trying to figure out who’s volunteering and who’ll be in charge of each group."
“Uh-huh,” You hummed, not convinced.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he apologized, reaching for you. His arm slipped around your waist, pulling you against him. “What were you saying—”
His phone buzzed again, and for a moment, you thought he might actually have the decency to ignore it. Then his puppy-dog eyes betrayed him.
“I’m so sorry, honey, I’ll make it—"
You didn’t care to listen any further.
You pushed him away and walked out of the room without another word.
TEST TWO: If the suspected subject has undergone any alteration to their DNA, theoretically they should have greater stamina and endurance than the average human. In other words, he will not get tired. Do with that information as you please, sweetheart – Eddie.
You decided to forgive Steve a few days later.
Mostly because he was really good at apologizing and kissing you better. And you missed him, you truly did. In this embarrassing, yearning way.
You hadn't realized how lonely you'd felt until he was whispering sweet nothings into your ear, warm puffs of air lingering against your skin. His palm rested flat against your abdomen, applying pressure there as he fucked you sweetly. You threw your head back on the pillows, taking every inch of his cock.
"You're so pretty," Steve whispered, the words catching in the back of his throat as your fingers slipped into his damped hair and tugged at the mess. "Jesus, baby, you feel so...mmm, so good."
He stretched you out over and over. Until your eyes were rolling back and the only word coming out of your mouth was his name. Like a prayer, perhaps. After all, you were at the altar of his will.
He gave one of your knees a gentle push to spread your legs wider, and you gasped when he thrusted deeper, and so much faster than before. Your nails dug into his flesh as the slick sound of your cunt grew louder. Oh, you were almost there. So close.
"Come for me, baby," He cooed, his cock kicking up as you clenched around him. You didn't think you'd ever felt this heavenly before. "I want you all over my skin. Please, baby, you're doin' so good."
You looked up through splayed lashes, your eyes hooded and your lips parted. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. You were certain of it.
"Steve..."
"That's it, honey, let go," he continued, glancing down at your wet cunt while watching himself fuck you. "You're the prettiest like this...”
You came at the same time he did. And it was a mercurial high that left you sprawled across the mattress, chest raising and falling with uneven breaths, a sheen of sweat adorning your skin.
Steve was still towering over you, his arms braced on either side of your head as he admired you through splayed lashes. There was a lopsided grin on his face, and your cheeks warmed up.
"What?" You asked breathlessly.
"Nothing." He tilted his head, leaning in to press a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your neck, up your cheeks, and finally back to your jaw. "I'm just really happy right now. 'Cause you're with me."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," He kissed your lips, sweet and slow. "I meant what I said. I really am sorry about the other day. And the day before, and..." He paused, knowing he'd never finish the list if he started down that road.
"All the other times?" You prompted.
"Yeah," He looked away. "All the other times."
You see, this was where he always got you, because there was never even a hint of deceit in his voice. It was just him and those sticky-sweet words of his.
And all those bad days and lonely nights washed away beneath the cloying sweetness left in the wake of his guilt. Perhaps, that was why you never left.
That, or your self-imploding tendencies.
"You know?" He broke you out of your reverie, pressing himself against you. You felt him hard again, the thickness and the length, all eager and wanting. "I could fuck you over and over against this mattress for hours. That's how bad I got it for you."
You eyes widened.
Was that even possible?
"Liar." You threw around loosely, only to swallow when his eyes darkened. His pupils dilated until they nearly swallowed his irises, leaving you unable to distinguish where one ended and the other began.
But before he could prove you wrong, before he could grind against you and fuck you stupid again—his phone began to vibrate against the nightstand.
He ignored it at first, you’ll give him that.
Until that was all you could hear in the room.
“Answer it,” You encouraged him, bracing a hand against his chest as you pushed yourself upright. “You’re gonna anyway.”
And with that, you climbed off the bed and walked into the bathroom, listening as he cursed under his breath while getting dressed. Before finally walking out of the room to answer away from you.
TEST THREE: If the suspect has undergone any alteration, they should theoretically develop sensory abilities similar to those of an arachnid, allowing them to detect danger before it happens.
You stared down at Dustin's paper with low spirits. It lay splayed across your dining table, crumpled and stained with coffee residue from that one morning you'd accidentally set your mug down on it.
It was three in the morning, and there were a lot of thoughts running through your mind at once. Bad thoughts, mostly. You wondered if this was what denial looked like. When a relationship was already falling apart, but only one person was still desperately trying to make it work. It was three in the morning, and Steve wasn't home yet.
There was no text from him.
Nothing but unanswered messages.
Dustin's paper turned bleary sometime later. And you wiped your face with the back of your hand harshly when you realized you were crying. You felt pathetic waiting for him. Betrayed, actually.
Mostly because you'd convinced yourself he was cheating. That was the only logical explanation, right? That's why he was always on his phone. That's why he always stepped away to take his calls. That's why he still wasn't home.
Not Dustin's theories, no. Actual facts.
You heard his keys turning in the lock a few minutes later, but you didn't lift your head to look at him. He called your name a few times—or maybe he didn't. You weren't sure. You weren't really listening.
"Where were you, Steven?" You asked, your voice hoarse and tired. So very much tired.
He set his keys down carefully on the table, and you could feel his gaze burning into the side of your skull as he searched for your face. You refused to give him the satisfaction of looking up.
"I, uh..." Steve stammered, stumbling over his words. He squeezed his eyes shut when he realized he was only making things worse. "I was with Robin," he finally said. "She needed help with something and we lost track of time. I'm sorry, honey, I should've called. it won't happen again."
You hummed, tapping your fingers over the counter.
Your heart mimicked the quick rhythm.
"I called Vicky earlier," you told him, finally looking up and catching the guilt that flickered across his features. "And you know what she said?"
Steve pressed his lips into a thin line.
"That her and Robin were celebrating their anniversary," You continued carefully. "And that they were planning on staying in for the night."
A strained silence followed. So eerie that the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Still, Steve only stared at you, like a deer caught in headlights.
"Baby—"
"—Are you cheating on me?" You asked blatantly, swallowing the sentiment that threatened to spill from your mouth. "Because if you are, just tell me."
"What? No!" Steve nearly yelled, shaking his head vehemently as he tried to approach you.
Instinctively, you pushed your chair back, putting more distance between you. He stopped short, wincing at the sight. "I would never cheat on you, honey. Ever. You’re the only woman for me.”
"Then where were you?" You repeated, watching as he struggled to coherent his answer. “I need to know, Steve, I’m serious this time.”
“I—” He swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the roots. “I can’t tell you.”
You laughed, humorously and dry.
“You can’t tell me?” You repeated his words as another laugh bubbled up your throat. Steve winced at the broken sound. “Do you even love me anymore?”
“Of course I love you, baby. I could never stop loving you,” Steve rushed to say, reaching his arms out toward you before stopping when he saw you narrowing your eyes. He let his hands drop awkwardly to his sides, suddenly unsure of what to do with them. “I love you more than anything.”
“Not more than anything,” you countered, your bottom lip trembling. “Not more than… whatever it is you’re doing. Not more than whatever it’s keeping you away from me. Not more than that, Steve.”
Steve shook his head again, and beneath the dim lights hanging from the ceiling, you could see the hairs on his arms standing on end, catching in the billows of yellow light. They rose alongside the goosebumps erupting across his skin.
You wondered if he’d been expecting this already.
“You don’t understand—” He started shakily.
“—Then tell me,” You interrupted him. “Make me understand, Steve. I’m begging you here.”
Steve groaned loudly, running his hands down his face. He was desperate and struggling. “I wish I could tell you, honey. You have no idea how many times I’ve come this close to telling you…”
You waited for him to finally spill everything. You waited for him to tell you the truth so the two of you could get past this. So you could work things out and find your way back to how things used to be.
But he didn’t.
“I can’t.” Was his final say. “I really can’t.”
You nodded despite the tears streaking down your face. Your heart felt heavy inside your ribcage, like a dead weight, anchoring on your spot. You wondered if this is what a dying of a broken heart felt like.
“Sweetheart, I know how bad this sounds, okay? But I need you to trust me, baby. This has nothing to do with me cheating on you or—” He stopped, watching you with teary eyes.
“What are you doing?”
You didn’t answer. Instead, you crossed the kitchen toward the duffle bag tucked beneath the counter.
“I’m leaving, Steve.”
“No, no, baby, we can work this out—” He was crying now, crossing the room in quick strides. He reached for your arms, but you squirmed out of his grasp. “—don’t do this, please. I swear, I’ll do better. I’ll do anything, baby. Anything!”
You scoffed, but it was a watery thing.
“Anything but tell me the truth, right?”
Steve’s lips parted, but no words came out. He could only look at you, his hazel-brown eyes glistening with tears gathered along his lower lids.
You were right.
Anything but the truth.
“Goodbye, Steve,” you whispered, pushing past him. He tried to argue, but you didn’t stop to listen to any more of his pleas. Instead, you made sure to slam the door loudly behind you.
Summary: Joe has had a little too much to drink, and when he spots you, he decides to shoot his shot. There's just one little detail he forgot: you happen to be his girlfriend.
Warnings: teasing, fluff, first meeting, awkward Joe, flirting, established relationship, drinking
English isn't my first language, so be understandable and gentle, thanks!
Word count: +4k
Author's note: Hey everyone! I hope you're doing well! The fic is based on this request. I fell in love with the concept the moment I read it, so a huge thank you to whoever sent it. I really hope I managed to do it justice and that whoever requested it is happy with how it turned out! As always, let me know what you thought! If you enjoyed it, I’d love to hear from you in the comments or see you reblogging the fic. It would mean so much to me! ❤️
Masterlist
Months of airports, soundchecks, sleepless nights, unfamiliar hotel rooms, cramped tour buses and endless miles had led to this moment.
The final show of the tour.
And it had been everything you could have hoped for. The venue had sold out within minutes months ago and by the time the lights came up for the final song, the entire room seemed to be moving as one. Every lyric was shouted back at the stage, every note swallowed by the roar of the crowd. You could feel the energy from where you stood, vibrating through the floor and settling somewhere deep in your chest.
You watched Joe through the final song, barely able to take your eyes off him. Night after night, he'd walked onto that stage and given everything he had.
And tonight was no different.
When the final notes finally faded and the venue erupted into one last deafening wave of applause, Joe stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, taking it all in.
You could see it on his face.
Relief.
Emotion.
Pride.
And beneath all of it, an almost overwhelming sense of happiness.
You felt it too.
You knew how much this tour had demanded from him and the rest of band. You had seen the exhaustion behind the adrenaline, the pressure he put on himself before every show, the restless nights when he worried he wasn't doing enough, even when the crowd proved him wrong every night.
Tonight, though, there was no space for that, there was just pure joy and excitement.
There was nowhere else to go.
No next show.
No bus waiting for you.
Tonight was about celebrating.
So, once the show was over and the last traces of backstage chaos had settled, you, Joe, and the rest of the band headed out to party.
A few hours later, you were all crammed into a corner of a packed club. Music pulsed through the room, loud enough to make conversation almost impossible without leaning in. The dance floor was packed shoulder to shoulder, colored lights sweeping lazily across the sea of people as laughter and off-key singing blended into the music. Empty glasses cluttered the table, evidence of several rounds that had long since become impossible to count.
The alcohol had loosened everyone up, washing away whatever exhaustion and tension remained from the tour. You'd danced until your feet hurt, smoked and toasted more times than you could remember, with Joe getting progressively more affectionate with every drink.
Sprawled across the booth, he now had one arm draped around Jake's shoulders as he loudly declared how much he loved everyone around him.
"I mean it," he insisted, pointing dramatically around the group with the utmost sincerity. "Every single one of you. I love you guys so much."
“You already told us that… like four minutes ago," Jake laughed.
"Did I?" Joe frowned thoughtfully, glancing at you, then at the guys, looking for confirmation.
A beat passed.
"Well... I still mean it."
The table erupted into laughter.
You couldn't help smiling to yourself. His cheeks were flushed, his hair a complete mess from hours of dancing and sweat, and every emotion crossed his face with the transparency of someone who'd completely lost the ability to filter himself. Everything he thought came straight out of his mouth.
You found it ridiculously adorable.
But you were also starting to worry about how much he'd had to drink.
He hadn't touched a single glass of water all night.
You glanced at the half-empty beer still sitting in front of him before making up your mind.
"Getting you some water,” you said, leaning in close to his ear and shouting over the music to be heard. “I’ll be right back.”
Joe's head snapped toward you immediately.
"What?" he asked, as though you'd just suggested breaking up.
"You need to hydrate."
"I don’t."
"I'm hydrated."
He looked down at his beer as though it might somehow support his argument.
You smiled. "That's not how it works, babe,” you said, shaking your head.
You pushed yourself to your feet.
"Stay here," you said gently. "I'll be quick, I promise.”
Before you could take a single step away, warm fingers curled loosely around your wrist. You looked down and saw Joe staring up at you with those big brown eyes, his gaze pleading with you to stay like a lost puppy.
“But I don't want water,” he mumbled, giving your arm the tiniest tug. “I want you.”
His voice had dropped into something almost childishly pleading.
The table immediately broke into amused snickers.
"Oh my God," someone muttered.
"He's gone."
"Totally."
Joe ignored them completely.
You bit back a laugh, your heart squeezing despite yourself. He looked so utterly earnest that, for a fleeting second, you almost considered sitting back down and staying with him. Instead, you stepped a little closer and brushed a hand through his messy hair.
"I'm literally just going to the bar," you said softly. "I'll be gone for two minutes. You can survive that."
Joe considered that very, very carefully.
"I don't think I can," he murmured. “And I don’t really want that.”
"I have faith in you.”
“You'll come back?"
"Of course."
"Promise?"
You smiled.
"I promise."
He sighed with the exaggerated resignation of someone making an enormous sacrifice. Unable to resist, you leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against his forehead.
"There," you whispered with a smile. “Don’t move. Stay with the guys."
He finally let go of your wrist, though not without a reluctant little huff, watching you stand as if he were personally offended by the laws of physics forcing you farther away.
“I’ll miss you," he called after you dramatically.
You laughed over your shoulder.
“It's only been three seconds, Joe."
“And it already hurts as hell."
More laughter erupted around the table as you shook your head, still smiling to yourself, and disappeared into the crowd.
By the time you reached the bar, you were already weaving between clusters of people packed shoulder to shoulder beneath the dim amber lights. A small line had formed in front of the counter, forcing you to settle in behind a few strangers while the bartenders hurried from one order to the next. You crossed your arms, waiting patiently.
-
Joe was slouched comfortably against the booth, absentmindedly picking at the label on his beer while listening to three conversations at once without really following any of them. The alcohol had wrapped everything around him in a pleasant haze, softening the edges of everything around him. The music seemed louder somehow, every laugh echoed a little longer than it should, and the colored lights blurred together into streaks of gold and blue whenever he blinked.
He rubbed at one eye before lifting his head, his gaze wandering lazily across the room until it landed on the bar. For a second, he simply stared. Then his breath caught and his lips parted as the rest of the club seemed to dissolve into the background. His heart gave an unexpected little jolt.
Joe blinked slowly.
"Guys."
Nobody answered.
Javi was in the middle of telling a story, Wes was laughing at something Jake had said, and none of them noticed the way Joe had gone completely still beside them.
"Guys."
Still nothing.
This time, Joe reached over and nudged Jake’s shoulder.
"Guys."
Three heads turned toward him almost in unison.
"WHAT?" they asked.
Joe didn't even look at them, his eyes still fixed on the bar. His voice came out slower than usual, the words softened by the alcohol.
“God… she’s so pretty.”
He shook his head, almost in disbelief.
“Who?” Jake asked, frowning.
“That girl,” Joe answered simply, nodding toward the bar.
“Where?” Wes chimed in, looking around.
"The one by the bar.”
Wes leaned sideways, trying to follow Joe's line of sight, but a group of people crossed the dance floor, blocking his view.
Jake looked back at him, utterly confused. "Have you completely lost your mind, Joe?”
“What? You should’ve seen her. She’s gorgeous,” Joe said.
Jake gave him a light smack on the arm.
"Ow."
Joe rubbed the spot with a wounded expression, looking at him as if he'd just been deeply betrayed.
"What was that for?"
The voices started overlapping.
“Dude, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Why are you checking out another —“
As the crowd shifted, your figure came back into view. You were still waiting for the bartender, completely oblivious to the conversation happening across the room.
“Look, it’s her!” Joe said, half screaming.
Jake froze.
Wes’ eyes widened. "Oh."
Next to him, Javi had just taken another sip of his drink. He followed Joe's finger and almost choked when he finally saw who he was talking about. He coughed into his fist, eyes watering.
"Oh my God," he wheezed. "You're kidding."
"Are you messing with us, buddy?", Wes asked.
Joe looked at them, thoroughly confused.
“What? Look at her and tell me she isn't the most beautiful woman you've ever seen,” he said, glancing back toward the bar.
The three of them stared at each other for a beat before looking back at you. Then back at Joe. But nobody answered. Instead, the corners of Javi's mouth twitched so hard he had to press his lips together.
Jake opened his mouth. "Dude, wake up, that’s literally—"
Before he could finish, Javi nudged him sharply in the ribs. Jake looked at him like he'd lost it, but Javi only shook his head, barely containing a grin. It took Jake another second before he finally caught on, and the corners of his mouth curled into a slow, mischievous smile.
Joe looked between them. "What?"
Javi cleared his throat, forcing his expression back into something resembling sincerity.
“Nothing. I just think..." He continued, nodding toward the bar. “I think you should go talk to her."
Joe let out a laugh.
"Yeah, sure."
"No, I'm serious."
"Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
Joe looked back at you, his confidence evaporating almost instantly.
"Because..." he said, lowering his voice as if you might somehow hear him across the room. “I mean, look at her! She’s way out of my league."
The table fell silent for half a second. Wes had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing as Joe sighed dramatically.
“And she probably has a boyfriend waiting for her somewhere."
“Maybe. But I don't see one right now," Wes replied with a perfectly straight face, glancing toward the bar. “Look at her, she’s standing there all by herself."
"You could buy her a drink,” Jake added.
Joe looked horrified. "I can't just walk up to her."
"Why not?"
“Because it’d be creepy.”
"Dude," Javi said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder with mock solemnity. "The worst she can do is telling you ’no’."
Joe considered that with surprising seriousness.
Across the room, you happened to glance up from your phone. Your eyes found the table almost immediately. You smiled instinctively at the sight of Joe and the guys before lowering your gaze again, completely unaware that you had just become the center of their conversation.
Javi slapped Joe's arm. "There!"
Joe looked up. "What?"
"She smiled at you."
Joe blinked. “Really? She did?"
"She absolutely did."
"I saw it too," Jake said, nodding with complete conviction.
Wes folded his arms. "That's your sign, buddy.”
Joe looked back toward you, then at his friends and then back at you again.
"You really think I have a chance?"
All three of them nodded without hesitation.
“For sure," Javi said.
“Absolutely," Jake agreed.
Joe drew in a deep breath, as if preparing himself for the most important mission of his life.
“O — okay."
With considerably more effort than should have been necessary, he pushed himself out of the booth, wobbling slightly before catching his balance.
"Wish me luck."
"Oh, we definitely will," Javi muttered.
As Joe began weaving through the crowd toward the bar, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen, Javi quietly slipped his phone out of his pocket. He angled the camera toward Joe, already struggling to keep the frame steady through his laughter.
"I'm saving this forever,” he whispered under his breath, pressing record.
-
You were still waiting for the bartender to notice you when someone stepped up beside you.
“Uh… Can I... buy you a drink?"
You turned your head, already smiling at the familiar sound of Joe's voice.
He stood next to you, one hand shoved awkwardly into the pocket of his jeans while the other rested against the edge of the bar. His cheeks were still flushed from the alcohol and there was a crooked little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Hey, there you are," you said. "I was —"
He cut you off before you could finish. His smile widened with an almost nervous kind of confidence.
“Can I tell you something first?"
You blinked.
“Sure… Are you fine?”
Joe glanced at the floor for half a second, as though rehearsing the sentence in his head.
"I just..." He looked back up at you, his words coming out slower than usual. “I just think you're... really, really beautiful."
You laughed.
"Thank you?"
He let out the tiniest sigh of relief, as though the hardest part was finally over.
"I've been looking at you from over there..." He pointed vaguely toward the booth behind him without taking his eyes off you. "And I thought you were the prettiest girl in this whole place."
You couldn't help laughing.
"What are you doing?"
"Hm?"
"What is this?"
Joe frowned, genuinely confused by the question.
"I'm talking to you."
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. He leaned in a little, lowering his voice as if he were sharing a secret.
“Actually, I'm trying to flirt with you."
You stared at him for another beat before a laugh escaped your lips.
"Oh, are you?"
"Mhm."
His expression carried the unmistakable satisfaction of someone convinced he was being incredibly smooth. You folded your arms, amusement dancing in your eyes.
"Are you messing with me?"
Joe opened his mouth and closed it again. His forehead wrinkled.
"No..."
He looked almost offended.
"Why would I do that?"
You searched his face. There wasn't the slightest hint of mischief in his expression, only genuine confusion... and a surprising amount of determination, you noticed.
A strange suspicion crept into your mind and before you could make sense of it, you glanced past Joe's shoulder and saw the guys all watching. Javi had both hands clamped over his mouth to stop himself from laughing, while Sam had practically folded in half over the table. And Wes…
What a bastard, you thought.
He was holding his phone up, pointed toward you, probably filming the entire scene.
Your eyes drifted back to Joe and the pieces clicked into place all at once.
He genuinely had no idea he was talking to you — his girlfriend.
You pressed your lips together, fighting the grin threatening to spread across your face.
This is unbelievable, you thought.
Your boyfriend — the man who had kissed you barely ten minutes ago — had somehow managed to fall for you all over again because he was too drunk and too blind to realize who you were.
You strongly bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing.
Joe shifted nervously beneath your silence.
"Is this weird? I’m not trying to be creepy, I swear.”
His voice was smaller now, uncertainty beginning to replace the confidence he'd marched over with.
You looked into his hopeful eyes. Then over at his friends, who were silently begging you to keep the act going. A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of your lips.
"No," you said, tilting your head. "Not weird or creepy."
You let your gaze travel over him for a second, pretending to size him up as Joe sighed, relieved by your words.
"But if you want to flirt with me…" You smiled sweetly. "You're going to have to do a lot better than that."
Joe blinked. Then a determined little smile spread across his face.
"Okay."
He nodded to himself.
“Yeah, I can do better."
He fell silent. His brows pulled together as he searched for something clever to say, lips pursed in concentration. Every now and then his gaze flickered up to you before dropping back to the floor again.
It was almost painful to watch.
But you still didn’t say anything.
"So..." he finally said, his fingers tapping nervously against the edge of the bar. "Are you here alone?”
You tilted your head and shook it.
"I am not."
His smile faltered almost imperceptibly.
"Oh."
The disappointment was so immediate and so genuine that your heart squeezed.
“A friend?” He asked.
You shook your head again.
“Your boyfriend?”
For a brief second, you considered lying. But curiosity got the better of you. You wanted to see how he would react and what he would do, especially in his current state.
So you nodded. "Mhm."
Joe closed his eyes for a second.
"Of course."
You couldn't help smiling.
"Of course?"
“Yeah. Of course you have a boyfriend.”
He gestured vaguely toward you.
"You're..."
He squinted, as if searching for the right word.
"...you."
You laughed.
"I'm me?"
“No… I mean… You’re… ridiculously… beautiful.”
The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. You pressed your lips together, trying to keep your amusement from showing too much.
"Is he…” Joe began, clearing his throat. “Is he around? Your boyfriend.”
You followed his question with your eyes, deliberately looking around the room before letting your gaze settle on him.
“Yeah, he’s… somewhere.”
Joe instinctively glanced over his shoulder, scanning the crowd.
“He’s a lucky guy.”
You smiled.
“He is. But I am too.”
Joe let out a quiet sigh.
"He's got really good taste.”
A warm flush crept across your cheeks.
“Oh, thank you. I'll make sure to tell him that.”
A comfortable silence settled between you.
He shifted on his feet before speaking again.
"What's he like?"
You looked at him for a moment, pretending to think.
"He's funny.”
Joe nodded immediately.
"Funny's good."
"He makes me laugh every day."
"I like making people laugh too."
"I can tell.”
He smiled, encouraged.
"What else?"
"He's kind."
Joe's expression softened.
"What does he do? For work, I mean.”
"He's an actor."
Joe's eyebrows shot up. He pointed at himself with an almost proud smile.
“I’m an actor too."
"Really?"
"Mhm."
You widened your eyes just enough to sell it.
"No way."
"Yeah."
You studied him for a second.
“My boyfriend also plays guitar."
Joe blinked.
"Seriously?"
“Mhm. And he sings too."
For a split second, Joe looked almost delighted.
"No kidding. I do that too."
“Really?"
“Yeah. I've got a band.”
You looked at him with exaggerated curiosity.
“Are you any good?”
Joe let out a surprised laugh.
"I... I'd like to think so."
"Just think so?"
He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.
"I mean… I don't really like saying whether I'm good or not."
He shrugged.
"I'd rather let other people decide."
A corner of your mouth lifted.
"Well, I happen to think you're very good."
Joe blinked, his head tilting ever so slightly.
"You do?"
"Mhm."
A surprised laugh escaped him.
"How would you know?"
He narrowed his eyes playfully.
"Have you listened to my music?"
You pretended to think about it.
"I might have heard a song or two."
“Really? So you know who I am?” he asked, smiling.
"Uhmm."
Joe looked down at the floor, gently rocking on his heels as he tried to hide the pleased smile spreading across his face.
“And you think I'm good?” he asked carefully, looking back at you.
"I do."
He smiled to himself for another second before his expression turned unexpectedly thoughtful.
“Better… than your boyfriend?"
You had to bite the inside of your cheek. You folded your arms, pretending to consider the question with great seriousness.
Joe watched you expectantly.
"I wouldn't go that far."
He playfully banged his fist on the counter.
"Damn."
“Sorry. My boyfriend set the bar pretty high."
Joe sighed dramatically.
"I was afraid you were going to say that."
You smiled sympathetically.
"You've got some catching up to do."
He nodded with complete sincerity.
“Yeah, I figured."
Then, after a beat, he looked back at you with a tiny spark of determination returning to his eyes.
"How much catching up?”
-
The first thing Joe became aware of the next morning was the pounding in his head.
The second was the dryness in his mouth.
The third was the uncomfortable realization that he had absolutely no idea how he'd made it into bed.
He groaned quietly and pulled the covers higher over his head, hoping that, if he stayed perfectly still, the previous night might somehow cease to exist and with it, the terrible hungover that had settled over him.
It didn’t.
Flashes of the night before crossed his mind.
He vaguely remembered the club, the music and the drinks, of course.
A lot of drinks, actually.
He remembered someone — maybe Javi or Wes — convincing him to do a few shots he definitely shouldn't have done. After that, things became considerably less clear.
Joe rolled onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to piece together his memories.
After a few minutes, the bathroom door opened and you stepped into your hotel bedroom, freshly showered, your damp hair falling over your shoulders as you rubbed it dry with a towel. You met Joe’s eyes almost immediately.
He blinked at you.
You smiled.
“Morning, sunshine!”
He groaned.
"For you, maybe."
You laughed softly and tossed the towel onto a chair.
"How are you already functioning?"
"Because some of us know when to stop drinking."
Joe covered his face with the covers.
"Don't."
You smiled and sat down beside him on the bed. For a moment, you simply watched him suffer, amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth.
He pulled the covers down just enough to look at you again, suspiciously.
"What happened last night?"
“You don’t remember?”
Joe frowned, trying to search through the fog in his head.
"I remember the club."
"Mhm."
"I remember dancing and… drinking.”
“Oh, that you did."
He winced and rubbed a hand over his face, thinking.
“And that’s pretty much it.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Nothing else?”
Joe shook his head. “Not really.”
“Not even the woman you flirted with?”
He changed expression instantly, his eyes snapping toward you.
“WHAT?”
Joe sat up a little straighter, suddenly much more awake.
"Yeah. Apparently, she was the prettiest girl in the club."
Joe stared at you, believing that you were lying. For a moment, he didn't say anything. Then he shook his head.
"No."
You bit back a smile, trying to remain credible.
"No?"
“No, there has to be a mistake."
"There isn't."
“It can’t be. I wouldn't do that."
“But you did."
“No, I wouldn't do that to you. Never.”
His voice was more serious now, the humor disappearing from his face. He ran a hand through his messy hair, trying desperately to piece together the missing parts of the night.
"I love you. I'm in love with you."
"I know."
"I mean it. I wouldn't—"
His phone suddenly buzzed on the nightstand.
Joe stopped and stared at the screen.
Another notification appeared. And then another one.
He reached for the phone and unlocked it.
“What — what the hell?"
You folded your arms, watching him.
The group chat was filled with new messages.
He scrolled through them, his eyebrows drawing together as he read them aloud.
Javi: Are you awake, Romeo?
Wes: How's your new girlfriend?
Jake: Heard you met someone last night.
“What?” Joe mumbled. “What — what did I do?”
He looked up at you.
"What are they talking about?"
You shrugged, trying your best to keep your face straight.
“You should ask them. They saw everything.”
“Everything?"
“What happened last night. We all did.”
Joe's expression tightened.
"You saw it too?"
You nodded.
"Oh, yeah. I was there."
His eyebrows shot up.
"You were WHERE?"
He stared at you for a few seconds. Then he shook his head, blinking.
"This is a joke, isn’t it?”
"No."
“Yeah, you're messing with me."
“Joe, I'm not. I swear, it’s all true.”
Joe searched your face for any sign that you were about to crack and admit you were teasing him. But he found nothing which only seemed to make him more nervous.
"So..." He swallowed. "You're telling me I actually flirted with another woman last night? In front of you?”
“Not exactly.”
Joe frowned.
"What does that mean?"
You didn't answer immediately. Instead, you reached for your phone on the nightstand, unlocked it, and held it out toward him.
"Watch it yourself.”
Joe stared at the screen, then at you.
“The boys filmed the whole thing.”
Joe went completely still.
"You've got to be kidding me."
You watched the color slowly drain from his face. He hesitated, his finger a few inches from the screen. Then he pressed play.
The camera followed Joe as he made his way through the crowded room, one hand occasionally reaching out to steady himself against someone's shoulder as he walked.
Joe watched in silence.
Then the camera turned toward the bar. You were standing with your back to him, still waiting for the bartender.
Joe's eyebrows pulled together.
He stared at the screen for a few seconds before his gaze flickered toward you. Then back to the phone.
"Wait."
He paused the video.
"Is that..."
You smiled innocently.
Joe looked at the screen again as if he was afraid of having misunderstood.
“But that's you."
You nodded.
"Mhm."
A slow realization began to settle over his face as he stared at you. His eyes widened. He stared at you in disbelief.
"No."
You tilted your head.
"Uhhm..."
You pointed at the screen.
“How did you call me? The prettiest girl in the whole place?”
His mouth fell open.
"Oh my God."
He looked back down at the video, suddenly watching with a completely different expression.
“So…”
He closed his eyes for a few seconds.
“I really didn’t recognize you?”
You shook your head. “Nope.”
Joe groaned and dropped his head back against the headboard, dragging both hands down his face.
“Oh God, that’s so… embarrassing.”
You laughed softly, unable to hide your amusement anymore.
He looked at you through his fingers, still horrified.
"And I can’t believe you just let me keep going.”
You smiled, fighting the urge to kiss him and comfort him.
"You were so cute, Joe. I couldn’t stop you. And I was curious to see how far you would go.”
Joe let out a long, defeated sigh and let his hands fall into his lap.
“I’m never drinking again."
"Sure, Romeo."
He gave you a tired glare before his expression softened.
"You're not mad?"
You tilted your head.
"Why would I be?”
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I forgot I had a girlfriend and flirted with you while thinking you were someone else."
“Yeah, you did, but it was still me, at least. You flirted with me, Joe. Your girlfriend. It would've been a lot worse if you'd actually been flirting with another woman."
Joe shuddered at the thought.
"Please don't even say that."
You reached up and gently brushed a strand of messy hair away from his forehead.
“I think it was sweet, Joe. And pretty romantic.” You smiled. “You were completely wasted. You couldn't see straight or barely put a sentence together… But you still saw me across a crowded room and thought I was the most beautiful woman there."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Always."
He leaned into your touch, his eyes growing softer. Then he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.
"Come here."
You leaned closer, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.
"Still the prettiest girl in the room,” he murmured against your skin.
You smiled.
"Even when you're sober?"
He pulled back just enough to look at you.
"Especially when I'm sober."
You kissed him softly, finally giving in to the urge you'd been fighting.
When you pulled away, you stayed close, your forehead resting lightly against his.
You couldn't help smiling as the memories of the night before came back to mind.
"You should've seen your face when I told you I had a boyfriend."
Joe groaned.
"Oh, God."
"It was so hard not to laugh. You looked genuinely heartbroken."
He rested his forehead against your shoulder.
"Please stop."
"And then you started trying to compete with yourself."
Joe looked up at you.
"I did not."
“Oh, you absolutely did."
He fell back against the pillows, closing his eyes.
"You're never going to let me forget this, are you?"
"Absolutely not."
He sighed.
“Yeah… I guess I deserve that.”
You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
"Besides, I kind of liked being your crush."
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Still are."
"Good."
He opened his arms and pulled you back against him, holding you close.
Requests are open, so feel free to send them!
I'd love to read them :)
I'd run the risk of losing breath on empty pages,
losing breath on no exchanges,
losing breath on no one waiting
Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Summary: Working at an overnight camp--the same camp you’ve been going to since you could walk--should be fun. But it isn’t. Not when all you can see is the boy you used to love, the boy who used to love you, running around, having the time of his life with his new girlfriend.
Everyone loves him. Everyone seems to want him. And you’re forced to watch it, knowing what he did to you, knowing how you feel for him.
Perhaps an old friend could help.
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, enemies to loversish?, derogatory language, heavy ex yearning, plot heavy smut, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, ruined orgasm, oral (f-receiving), praise, light anal play (whoops), squirting, fingering, creampie, choking, dom!steve, jealousy, horsecock steve harrington ofc, a sickenening amount of petnames, probably more tbh...
W.C: 13.8k
a/n: this is by far my LONGEST oneshot and the nastiest smut I have ever written to date. I'm both parts happy and shocked with myself. hope you enjoy <3.
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The sun beats down on your back, heating your skin down to the bone. A lingering headache sneaks up your temples, settling deep within your skull. Your black tank–which you’re now regretting immensely–sticks to your skin, sweat sliding down each notch of your spine.
Other counselors chat and laugh around you, oblivious to the storm swirling deep within your stomach. An all-consuming ache that even with months of distance has refused to go away.
How can anyone blame you, though? Although some people might claim you and Richie Blake were nothing more than a summer fling, a brief blink in time, you know you were more than that. You wish, you hope, Richie knows that too.
Your love burned bright and fast, and no matter how long you fought to keep the wick standing, the wax melted too quickly, searing nothing but the memory of him into your skin. Burning all your faults into the creases of your charred palms, all the harsh words he threw at you settling deep within your bones.
Flashes of last summer flood back into your head as they always do, ever-present, never-ending. The ghost of his hands on your waist, the taste of his tongue on your lips. The constant “I love yous” and “I miss yous” even though he was only a few cabins down.
And then, there he is.
Richie shuffles over to a group of his friends, just a few feet away from you. A large, dimpled smile lights up his face, dirty blonde hair swooping high above the arch of his brows. Over all the chatter of other counselors around you, you can still hear that deep, baritone voice. Smooth as honey.
As if the world stops spinning on its axis, time slows down as his eyes slide to yours, through the crowd of people. A part of you hopes for a twitch of his brow, for his entire face to light up like it used to. Except… there's nothing. Then, like it never happened, he turns back to his friends and continues whatever story he’s telling them.
“Stalking him again?” A raspy voice behind you.
You spin around, eyes wide, your heart pounding against your ribs. “Jesus Christ, Robin!”
“Sorry, sorry!” She laughs, the sound escalating when you stick out your tongue at her.
“Seriously though, you have to let him go.” It’s true, of course. Doesn’t mean that the thought of it doesn’t make your heart hurt.
“I mean- come on, Rob? Who does that? Seriously?”
“I know-”
“He told me he loves me! How can you love someone one day, and claim ‘you’re not mentally ready for a relationship?’ Like, hello?!”
Robin cringes, watching you wave your hands around erratically, your face getting redder and redder. She gets it; she really does. But it’s been an entire year since last summer. Robin of all people knows how draining it is to dwell on the same person for so long. After all, her Tammy Thompson is your Richie Blake.
“Hey- maybe we should take a breath?”
Just as you're winding up to argue with her, you look over your shoulder, just wanting one more glance at his beautiful face—when she walks up.
Hollie Carter.
Long, shiny auburn hair falls down her back in soft waves, the sun shining off the loose curls. Tight black shorts vacuum seal themselves to the curve of her ass, her tits popping out of her red bikini top. The plump curve of her lip is smeared in shimmering gloss, her teeth shining white as a smile spreads across her face.
She walks right up to Richie, placing her manicured hand on his bicep. And the look on his face fucking breaks you. His eyes are shining, the dimple on his right cheek appearing almost immediately. You remember the times you pressed your lips against it; you remember the times his eyes used to shine that way when he looked at you.
But they’re focused on her.
And god, she’s fucking beautiful. Everything you’re not. Athletic, funny, put together. Sexy. Everything you were insecure about in his arms.
There were rumors they were talking. You knew they must’ve been true. Hell, even when he was yours, she was all over him. But, fuck, seeing them interact like that? Right in front of you? It hurts. It’s worse than hurt, even. It’s that type of burning ache that tears through your veins, splits your heart open till you’re bleeding into your lungs, choking on every “what if.”
What if you were prettier? What if you were funnier? Smarter?
And yeah, you can’t blame him for moving on. You don’t own him. At this point, it feels like you never had him in the first place. Sometimes you wonder if you were ever even friends?
Robin knocks you out of your spiraling thoughts rather abruptly, sliding in front of you, blocking the sickeningly good-looking couple from your view.
“Okay. Enough of this, I'm serious. You need a Richie detox,” Robin says, stepping to the side when you try to look past her shoulder once you see Hollie getting on her tiptoes to whisper something in his ear. “I’m serious! You should move to be a counselor for the older kids so you don’t have to see him as much!”
In response, you shake your head. You wish it were that easy. “Rob, we’re four weeks into the summer! I can’t just switch bunks.”
“So you’re just going to torture yourself for another five weeks?”
“No- I’ll- I’ll deal with it, okay?! It’s like- it’s not even that big of a deal. I’m over him,” you huff, sounding like you wouldn’t even be able to convince the most gullible person on the face of this planet.
“I’ll talk to our boss, how about that? See what she can do-“
Your conversation is once again interrupted by a chorus of greetings from over Robin's shoulder, and another face you’d really rather not be seeing right now.
Steve Harrington, Richie’s best friend. His right-hand man, if you will. Both you and Robin watch as Steve saunters up to the growing group of counselors and claps Richie on the back. Some kind of energy in the group shifts, like they’re absolutely enthralled by the man.
It does nothing more than fuel your growing anger. Your despair. To you, Steve Harrington is nothing more than a man-child with too much hair. To you, he’s nothing to blink an eye at, nothing to swoon over like every fucking person on this planet does.
Maybe, to other people, you have absolutely no reason to hate him. Just because he’s friends with Richie doesn’t make him an asshole. But you know better. You have a way of reading people, seeing things others can’t. You’re not falling for his spell.
A little tidbit that you know for a fact that Steve would never tell anyone—to him, he’s too cool for the likes of you—is that you used to be friends. Best friends, even. Back in high school. Then he became the king. Really, he just became a fucking asshole. Nothing less, nothing more. He started pushing you away, calling you less, laughing at you when he was with his new shiny friends.
To top it all off, Steve only became close friends with Richie AFTER he broke your heart. They merely rotated in the same circle beforehand! It’s like he did it to spite you. To show that you’ll never be anything more than that weird girl King Steve wouldn’t even spare a passing glance at.
Fucking dick.
Robin, seemingly noticing the steam billowing out of your ears, grabs your forearm and starts to drag you away. “Okay, we’re done here. Back to our cabin!”
“Wait- Robin! I still need to get snacks for my kids!” You say, stumbling into step with her.
As you’re pulled away from the crowd, you don’t notice the honey-thick eyes burning into the back of your head.
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Cold lake-water laps against your ankles, goosebumps littering your skin with each gentle roll of the water. The light from the moon shines on the ripples of the inky black water, cicadas singing somewhere deep within the trees that surround you.
After an entire day of stewing in anger, the sadness came crashing in, like it always seems to do. That crushing, devastating pain sat heavy on your chest, making it almost impossible for you to even think without sobbing. Robin tried to help, forced you to watch all your favorite comedies, scooped you a huge bowl of ice cream, and let you cry on her shoulder. Although it helped for a little, it just wasn’t enough.
So, once she fell asleep on your shoulder halfway through a movie you don’t even remember the name of, you slowly set her head down on a pillow and snuck out to the camp lake. Your happy place, the one place where you feel like you can breathe.
Still, tears silently roll down your cheeks, mixing into the inky water below.
At this point, you begin to think it’ll never get better. This empty hole in your heart just won’t heal; it never will. And what makes it all so awful? Richie doesn’t even care. You know he doesn’t think of you. He doesn’t even spare you a passing glance; how foolish do you have to be to think one day he might miss you?-
Suddenly, footsteps sound on the wood dock behind you, heavy yet unrushed. You quickly wipe your tears on the sleeve of your sweatshirt, sniffling quickly.
“Robin- just go, please,” you whisper, hiding your face to the side, hoping she can’t see the mess of mascara you know is smeared across your cheeks.
“Hollie’s a bitch, you know,” she says.
Except, the voice is not Robin’s at all.
You startle, your neck almost breaking from how quickly you whip your head to the side. “What the fuck?!” You rush out, holding your chest where your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your ribs from the shock.
You’re face to face with Steve, his face illuminated by only the moon, his hair a messy swoop of chestnut waves. “You shouldn’t let her bother you,” he says casually, his gaze settling on the far side of the lake. A cigarette hangs from his lips, glowing dimly, smoke curling in the air.
Looking at him, bewildered, you open and shut your mouth. “What the fuck do you want?”
Then, he glances back over at you, tilting his head to the side. He pulls the cig from his lips, blowing the smoke in your face. “That’s why you’re crying, right? Hollie and Richie? Or just Richie?”
Scoffing, you scoot away from him, shaking your head. “Steve, seriously, fuck off,” you grunt, waving the pungent smell away from your face.
He’s silent for a moment before you hear shuffling. His feet slide into the water next to yours as he leans back on his hands, relaxing like this is a normal conversation he’s having with one of his closest friends.
“What he did… Was really fucked up. I should’ve said something sooner.”
Slowly, you turn your head to look at him, your lips parting. That’s new.
But also rich coming from him of all people.
“If you really thought that, you wouldn’t have become all buddy-buddy with him a week after it happened. You’re worse than him for that.” Maybe that last part isn’t… completely true. But it feels that way. You haven’t been friends for a long, long time. Yet it feels like a betrayal. That kind of quiet betrayal that sneaks up on you when you least expect it, that keeps you up for weeks wondering why.
He blows out a breath, shaking his head. A few strands of hair fall over his brow, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he debates his next words. “He lied to me about it,” he whispers, taking another drag.
Immediately, you shake your head. “Sure he did. Everyone knew about it last year; he was bragging to his whole fucking friend group. Said he led me on for fun, called me an ugly bitch.”
“Jesus Christ,” Steve exasperates, smoke blowing from his lips when he speaks, his eyebrows twitching. “He said that?”
Just as you're about to fire back at him, you turn to look into his eyes. All you see is genuine shock. And anger. “He didn’t tell you that?”
“I heard rumors from our other friends. I thought it was just bullshit. He seemed so… stand-up,” Steve says, having trouble even getting the words out after what you just said.
In response, you blow out a laugh. “They always do.”
Silence follows, only the sounds of the trees rustling in the wind, the sharp coos of owls just a whisper in the night. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and his cologne, the scent weirdly comforting. From the corner of your eye, you can see him flick the dying butt into the lake beneath his feet, making your eye twitch. But you don’t say anything, snapping your teeth together.
You think back to what Steve said just a few moments ago, about how Richie lied to him. The question sits on your tongue, begging to be let out. But a part of you doesn’t even want to know. For all you know, he could’ve told people that you’re a crazed stalker that casted a spell on him so he’d fall in love.
But curiosity seeps in deep, grabbing a hold of you in its sharp claws. “What did he tell you?”
The man next to you is silent for a moment, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his head. Even in the moonlight you can see a soft dusting of pink creeping up the tips of his ears. “It’s just gonna piss you off…”
“Harrington, I’m already pissed off. Just fucking tell me.”
With a soft sigh, he shakes his head. “He, uh. Told me you slept with his friends when you guys were dating.”
You almost breathe a sigh of relief. It could be worse. It’s not great, but it could be worse. “That’s it? He just wants people thinking I’m a slut?”
“At the same time.”
“Oh.” You’re silent for a moment, your body bracing itself for your next question. “How many did he say?”
Silence rolls back in, Steve’s face almost glowing in the night. It’s certainly a weird sight to see the king so unbelievably uncomfortable. “Five.”
You sputter, choking on your spit. “Five?! Five??! Are you fucking serious?”
“Dead,” he looks over at you, a sheepish look on his face.
“And you believed him? Like, you legitimately believed I had a fivesome. Me? Of all people?”
“I mean- I think that would be considered a sixsome?”
“Steve!” You shove his shoulder hard, almost causing him to tumble into the water.
“I’m sorry! He’s very convincing!” Steve says with a rich laugh, running a hand through his hair.
“Jesus Christ!” You laugh in disbelief, the tears long gone. “You know, he’s the fucking weirdo here. You know what he wanted me to do?”
He cringes, his eyes widening. “Oh god, can I say no?”
Promptly ignoring him, you continue. “He wanted me to watch him fuck my sister. My sister, Steve!”
He immediately turns his body toward you, eyes as wide as saucers. “You’re joking. Holy shit- You’re joking,” he sputters in disbelief.
“I wish I was!” You laugh, almost mad at yourself for putting up with all this bullshit he put you through.
“And you’re still hung up on this asshole?” He says, not in that teasing way that’s crafted to make you feel bad, but in genuine, utter disbelief.
“Fucked up, right?” You shake your head.
Steve’s silent for another moment, a soft laugh filling the empty air. “You need to get under someone else, Cookie. Get that asshole out of your head.”
Both his words and his use of your old nickname make you startle. “First of all, don’t call me that. Second of all, fuck you. I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Whoa! Jesus, not me!” He throws his hands up in front of him, as if you’re about to hit him. “I can hook you up with someone. I know half the guys here.”
Embarrassment simmers low within your stomach at your assumption. “Oh…Right. Still, I don’t want you to be my.. Dick Wingman.”
“Your- Dick Wingman?” Chest rumbling with a laugh, an eyebrow quirks up.
“You know what I mean. I’m perfectly fine without sex.” And it’s true. Mostly. Sure, you’ve been getting slightly frustrated recently. But you’ve just been attributing it to the Richie-shaped-hole left in your heart. You just simply miss his touch, his taste, his warmth. That’s why. Not because you need to get pulverized into a mattress. God, no.
“Come on. Just- What’s your type? I can help you find someone. Call me your matchmaker.”
“No thanks,” you huff, not convinced.
“Look, you don’t have to sleep with anyone. Just tell me your type, and I’ll set you up with someone. You don’t like him, I’ll leave you alone. Won’t ever bring it up again.” Once he notices the unconvinced look on your face, he holds up three fingers. “Scout's honor?”
“You’re not a Boy Scout, Steve,” you mutter, crossing your arms across your chest.
Still, you consider it. What’s the worst that can happen? Like he said, it’s not like you have to sleep with whoever he finds for you. Even still, he could find you someone that you genuinely find attractive! Then maybe, finally, you could begin to get over Richie.
“Fine,” you sigh, taking a moment to consider. “I guess I like funny guys. The kind that can always make you laugh, even if they’re saying something stupid. Someone-“
Steve interrupts you quickly with a shake of his head. “No- I mean physical. Like, blonde, blue-eyed.”
Your eye twitches when you look back over at him. “I’m not that shallow.”
Fearing that he’s lost you again, Steve overexaggerates a pout, his eyes somehow glowing under the light of the moon. “Humor me. Please?”
“Ew, don’t do that,” you laugh, looking away from him. When you look back, he’s still pouting, looking like a kicked puppy. “Okay, okay, fine, stop,” you push his face away, earning a chuckle from his lips.
You take a moment to think. When you really consider it, Richie isn’t much of your type at all. Of course, you find him attractive. You’d be blind not to, really. But you’ve never really had a thing for blondes. That’s a starting point, you suppose.
“I mean, I guess I’ve always had a thing for brunettes,” you say slowly.
“Gotta give me more than that, Cookie,” he winks at you when you throw him a nasty look.
As you think about it, the words begin to tumble out of your mouth in a long, seemingly never-ending stream. “I like brown eyes too. Not exactly brown, actually. I like when guys are pretty, you know? When the sun hits them, and their eyes turn almost golden. When if you look close enough you can see flicks of green in them.”
Steve’s silent for a beat, and you chalk it up to him simply processing your words and waiting for you to continue.
“I like full lips, too. Not when they’re chapped. I don’t know why guys refuse to wear chapstick; I hate kissing someone with dry lips,” you shudder at the thought and continue. “I also think I have a weird thing with noses? I like when guys have big ones. Everyone says it’s ugly, but I think it’s cute.”
“Mhm,” Steve murmurs, but it sounds slightly strained. Still, you continue.
“Oh, and, jumping around here, but I like when guys have nice hair. Last year Richie showed me a picture of him in a buzzcut, and it was… Really, really bad. I just think guys look so much better with lots of hair. I mean, not long hair like Jonathan’s friend. But you know what I mean,” you rush out, letting the words tumble out without even thinking.
To your surprise, Steve is still silent. Quickly, you assume it’s because he expects you to continue. Sure, slight miscalculation on your part, but you keep talking. “I don’t need a guy that’s ripped or anything. I like when guys are a little soft, or lean. Biceps are a must, though. And he doesn’t really have to be that tall—just taller than me.”
Finally, you look over at him, not really sure what else to say. He’s staring at you wide-eyed, his lips parted and a look of absolute bewilderment written all over his face. He stutters a few times, completely unable to even get a single sentence out.
“Wha- What did I say? You told me I can be shallow!”
“No- I- Think about everything you just said,” he finally gets out.
For a moment, you press your lips together, trying to comprehend what you could’ve possibly said wrong. “What? The height thing? I don’t think it’s bad to want someone taller than you.”
He looks at you like you just ran over a puppy, his eyebrows furrowed so tightly you’re worried he might give himself a migraine. Steve says your name slowly, then he gestures to himself.
It takes you a moment to understand what he means, but as soon as you realize, you laugh loudly and roll your eyes. “Steve, not every girl is attracted to you. Sorry to be the one to break it to you.”
“Okay- hold on. Usually, I’d agree with you. But after all that shit you just said? According to you, I’m exactly your type!”
“Oh, Steve, come on!” You scoff.
“Brunette?”
“There’s plenty of brunettes at this camp!”
“Great hair? Tall? Hazel eyes? Big nose? Lean? Cookie, please tell me you’re not that dense,” he says, voice almost begging.
You’re about to argue with him, you’re about to deny, deny, deny. Because, seriously? You? Being attracted to Steve Harrington? You’ve always had an immense amount of pride for not being like all the other girls who fawn and drool over him. But slowly, so slowly, something deep twists within your chest. Realization comes slowly rolling in like waves crashing on the shoreline, the undertow dragging you under with it.
Under the moonlight, you look at him. You really look at him.
And fuck, he’s gorgeous. The moon casts shadows across his face, deepening each curve, his long eyelashes casting a shadow over his face. Freckles are splattered across his tanned skin like constellations, spreading all the way down and hiding beneath his tank top. His hair falls in soft, chestnut waves over the arch of his brow, urging you to run your fingers through them.
And his lips. Oh, fuck, his lips. They’re curved into a teasing smirk, making you wish you could wipe it right off. They’re dusted a baby pink color, plush and full. They look soft, so, so soft.
Okay. You’re fucked. You’re so fucked.
Knocking you out of your trance, you feel fingers under your chin, forcing your gaze to line up with his. “You’re attracted to me, Cookie. Admit it.”
Humiliatingly, you can feel your face glow red, the tips of your ears burning. “I’m- No- God, Harrington, you’re so full of yourself! And- you know what? Your eyes aren’t even hazel, asshole!”
He gives you a deadpan look, his hand dropping from your chin. “Really? That’s the defense you’re going with?”
When you refuse to say anything more, he rolls his eyes. He fishes in the pocket of his shorts, pulling out a small flashlight. Then, he shines it right in his eyes, making him flinch back just slightly.
You see the deep, rich color, specks of gold and deep greens swirling in the thick pool of honey. They almost glow in the artificial light, a siren call that urges you to get lost in them. As soon as the light comes, it ceases when he flicks the flashlight off and shoves it back in his pocket. “Are you done?”
You look down at your lap, hanging your head in shame. You’ve run out of words to defend yourself with, embarrassment sinking deep in your soul. You should’ve just kept your big fucking mouth shut. “Can we just… pretend like this didn’t happen?”
Steve shakes his head sharply, not letting you get away with this so easily. “Nah-ah. I’m still your matchmaker, remember? And we just found the perfect candidate to make you forget all about Richie,” he says, his voice lowering on the last part, the deep baritone going straight into your stomach.
“I’m not letting you stick your dick in me, asshole. Stop trying to pimp yourself out to me,” you say, forcing your eye to twitch despite how those first words make you feel between your legs.
“I never said anything about me fucking you. I don’t even have to take my pants off, you know. I can... make you feel good. Just for a night. Show you that Richie’s not the only guy that knows what he’s doing,” Steve murmurs, walking his fingers up your thigh, his touch gentle, light. Just in case you push it away.
But you don’t. You can’t. Not when waves of molten travel right to your core at the mere thought, at the barely there touch of his fingers. “So- W-what? You’re just going to rub my thigh until I have to fake an orgasm?”
At that, Steve lets out a deep chuckle. “You know I’m better than that,” he says simply, not offering more.
After a deep breath, you shake your head. This whole thing is stupid. Having mediocre not-sex (with Steve Harrington of all people) isn’t going to help you get over the man you love. But a small, tiny fraction of your body aches for touch. Not… specifically Steve’s, right? Just someone’s hands all over your body, the warmth of their lips against yours, their taste on your tongue.
“Okay,” Steve says with a shrug, like it doesn’t bother him. To your surprise, he pulls his hand away and sets it in his lap.
As soon as his warmth leaves you, a chill spills down each notch of your spine, a deep lingering want left behind in its wake. Something akin to a searing desperation, the likes of which you haven’t felt in a long, long time. Not since Richie.
With a shuddering breath in, you give in. You can’t imagine leaving this dock, going back to your cabin and tucking yourself to sleep without at least giving it a try. “Steve?” You whisper, so quietly you’re worried he won’t hear.
Slowly, he turns his head, an eyebrow quirked. “Hm?”
Without so much as another thought, you push his head toward you and surge toward him, your lips pressing against his.
Somewhere in the back of his throat sounds a strangled groan, his entire body freezing. You move your lips against his, almost letting out a moan of your own at how soft they feel against yours. When you pull back, he’s staring wide-eyed at you, blinking at you with nothing but confusion on his face.
“You gonna help me tonight or what?”
His pupils blow, a smirk growing on his face, his eyebrows furrowing in challenge. “You sure?”
“Shut up, Harrington.”
Just as you see the ‘make me’ forming on his lips, you twist your fingers into his shirt, yanking him forward. This time, Steve comes to his senses quite quickly.
His hand slides up your neck into your hair, his nails scraping your scalp as he grabs a fistful. His mouth is persistent and warm, feeling like it’s made to be against yours. “You better be good,” you murmur into his mouth.
Feeling his smirk makes your cunt flutter around nothing, the feeling making you shudder. “Oh, I am, honey,” he says right back.
He slips his tongue out of his mouth, coaxing your lips apart. You allow him to tilt your head to the other side, his tongue slipping into the wet heat of your mouth. A soft whimper leaves your throat at the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours, his taste absolutely intoxicating. Somewhere beneath the lingering smoke on his tongue, you can taste the sharp mint of gum, and a taste so uniquely Steve you can’t help but whine. Fuck, it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted.
You can feel him smiling against you at your little whimpers, his teeth hitting yours when you press yourself closer to him. The kiss borders on senseless, pure desperation. He licks into your mouth with fervor, your lips glistening in spit, both yours and his.
Once you feel his hand traveling up your shirt, cold fingertips brushing your burning skin, you place your palm on his chest, pushing him back. “We- We should go to a cabin.”
Steve blinks at you, his eyes completely dazed. When his brain is able to catch up with him, he clears his throat and nods. “Eddie’s at Chrissy’s tonight. Mine is empty.”
“Right. Yeah,” you breathe out. The gravity of what you’re about to do starts to weigh on you when Steve stands up and offers his hand, pulling you down the dock.
Hopefully he’s not all talk.
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The walk back to the cabin is silent, your heart matching each heavy footstep you both take. As you get closer and closer, your stomach begins to twist, warmth pulsing between your thighs. The smell of damp grass wafts through the air, the mud beneath your shoes getting softer with each march forward.
When you see Steve’s cabin come into view, dread begins to pulse through your body. What if you can’t get Richie out of your head, and you moan his name instead? And again, what if Steve thinks he’s really that good, when in reality, he’s not? You’ve had a good amount of sexual partners. None of them were really that… mind-blowing. Some of them were downright awful. You shudder thinking about all the times guys have jackhammered their fingers in you, telling you to cum when you weren’t even close.
And Richie? You don’t even remember. That’s how much you loved him. He could’ve been absolutely awful, and you'd have no clue. All you could think about when he was with you, when he was in you, was just that: how your heart is fully his, no one else’s.
Without you even realizing, you end up at Steve’s front door. He takes a moment to fish his keys out of his pocket. You can’t help but notice the way his biceps flex when he twists the key in the knob. At least he’s hot.
Steve cracks the door open, motioning for you to step in. Shuffling to the middle of the room, you take a look around. It’s more or less the same as yours, if not a little messier on one side. With a quick look around, you realize it’s Eddie’s side that’s mostly untidy. Band posters and clutter line the walls and shelves, sheets dark as night. His desk is covered in papers and pens, coffee rings scattered all over it. It’s not disgusting, per se. Just so Eddie that it makes you smile.
Steve’s side of the cabin is… surprising. It’s neat, almost empty. His sheets are navy blue, pillows silk white. His desk has a small pile of papers on it, a line of pens on top. The only light in the room is the little lamp on his desk that he must’ve left on before going to the docks. It smells strongly of citrus soap and Steve’s cologne when you walk over to his desk, the scent infecting your lungs with each inhale. You smile when your fingers brush against a small succulent, googly eyes on the pot.
“Who’s this?” You chuckle.
Quiet as a mouse, Steve comes up behind you, his chin leaning over your shoulder. The sudden barely-there contact makes you shiver. “Jonathan gave it to me. Don’t know how I’ve kept him alive so long.”
“It’s a succulent, Harrington. You have to water them like… four times a year.”
His breath is hot on the shell of your ear when he chuckles, eyelashes brushing your temple. “I don’t think you came here to talk gardening with me, Cookie.”
You can feel your face light on fire, the AC doing nothing to calm the heat of your body. It intensifies when his fingers rest on your hips and turn you around, your faces just barely apart.
The look on his face is earnest when he speaks next, “We don’t have to do this, honey. You can walk out right now. Or just chill here for a little. Up to you.”
Considering it for a moment, you gently shake your head. You’re determined. “No- I want this,” you whisper, voice firm. Final.
With a twitch of the corner of his lips, Steve leans in, pressing his lips to yours once again. Immediately, you can’t help but melt into him, pressing your chest against his, fingers tangling in the soft tendrils of his hair.
Steve deepens the kiss with a sweep of his tongue against the roof of your mouth, a needy whine from your throat following it. He walks you backwards blindly, pinning you to the wall with his body.
The kiss becomes sloppy, his hands traveling across the planes of your body, tracing each dip and curve with warm, eager palms. You gasp into his mouth when his hands travel downward, fingers digging into the plush skin of your ass. With a press of his palms against your ass, he drags your crotch against his.
As soon as the seam of your shorts comes into contact with the firmness of the bulge in his, you let out a frankly embarrassing noise.
“Feel that?” He grunts against your mouth, rolling your hips against his, making sure you feel him kick up against you. “See what you do to me, pretty girl?”
The pet name sends a spark through your body, your legs spreading when Steve kicks them apart just slightly. Then, he presses the corded muscles of his bare thigh against your aching heat, grinding you down onto it. “Steve-“ You whine, eyebrows furrowing as he nips at your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth.
“What do you need? Tell me, honey,” he murmurs against your jaw, his nose nudging your head to the side.
Before you even have the chance to answer him, his teeth sink into the skin of your neck, the sharp pain stinging so good. You let out breathy whimpers as his lips press against the spot, tongue swiping out to soothe the blooming purple. “Fuck- Steve! You’re gonna- ah- leave a mark,” you whine, fingers cording through his hair, holding him against you despite your words.
“Good. Gotta show Richie that you’re bein’ taken care of, yeah?” He murmurs, nipping at your fluttering pulse, the skin jumping as your blood pumps through your body harder, flooding your ears until all you can hear is that thick, syrupy voice. “Show him that you don’t need his pathetic ass anymore.”
The words should hurt, should make you feel empty inside like they have every single time Robin has tried to comfort you with them. But with his hands all over you, his thigh grinding against your clit so perfectly, it sends fire through your veins.
He pulls you forward, walking you to his bed. The back of your knees hit the mattress, and he picks you up, palms pressed into your ass. Contrasting the heat of his mouth on yours and his hands all over your body, he gently lays you on the comforter, your hair splaying out over his pillow. He lands on top of you, one hand pressed against the mattress, his knee between your thighs.
And then he pauses. His hand reaches up to cup your face, his thumb brushing your jaw. “God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he whispers, almost in awe. “You know that?”
Blinking up at him, your lips part. Richie never told you things like that in bed. Really, he was almost completely silent besides a few grunts here and there. “You… you don’t have to say stuff like that, Steve. This is just purely sexual,” you murmur, although the words twist something ugly within your chest.
Quickly, he shakes his head. “Just telling the truth, Cookie. I’ve always thought you were gorgeous,” he whispers.
Not giving you a chance to respond, he latches onto your neck again. When you let out soft whimpers, his lips track downwards, wet against your collarbone. He leaves even more blooms of purple in his wake, the wet heat of his mouth feeling like heaven against your skin. Lowering his head, he nips at the spillage of your breasts out of your tank top, a shiver running through your body.
Steve looks up at you through thick eyelashes, his hands sliding up your tank, brushing against your ribs. There’s a question in his eyes, wordless but evident. “Please,” you whisper.
He lets out a warm chuckle against your skin, pulling away to slide the fabric up your body slowly, his eyes darkening with each inch of skin that’s revealed to his hungry gaze. You raise your arms, letting him pull it completely off and throw it behind him somewhere.
A part of you wishes you were wearing something cuter than your old cotton bra, the pink color faded into a beige, but his eyes darken anyway. “God, look at you, honey,” he says, cupping you through the thin fabric, his thumb brushing your hardening nipple.
You sit up slightly and reach behind your back, undoing the clasp. Slowly, he helps you drag the straps off your arms, pulling them away from your body completely. Your tits spill out, goosebumps rising over your newly revealed skin at Steve’s rough gaze. “Fuckin’ hell.” He ducks his head down, taking a nipple into the heat of his mouth.
Immediately, pleasure spikes through your body in ripples, your back arching into his warmth. Steve chuckles against you, his tongue swirling around the firm peak. “So responsive,” he coos, tugging gently on it with his teeth.
His other hand reaches for your other tit, pinching and rolling your other nipple between nimble fingers. You slide your hand through his hair, holding him there. He switches his mouth to the other one, sinking his teeth into the plush skin. Heat pulses between your legs, your panties slick with arousal, sticking to your heated skin.
You grind your pussy against his thigh, searching for any friction you can get. “Needy girl,” Steve mumbles, smirking around your nipple.
In response, you whine, dragging yourself against his leg like a humpy chihuahua. In hindsight, it would be embarrassing how he has you like putty in his hands with only his lips on your tits. But how could you blame yourself, when no one’s touched you like this in an entire year?
“What do you need? Tell me, honey,” he whispers, picking his head up and nuzzling his nose against your jaw, breath prickling your skin.
You whimper, grabbing his wrist. You try… and fail to pull his hand between your legs. Steve tuts with a click of his tongue, his fingers digging into your thigh instead. “Use your words. Where’s that foul mouth?”
“Steve,” you huff, trying again.
His eyes widen in admiration when you yank his other hand downwards, pressing his palm against your pussy. “Stubborn,” he murmurs. Although the contact is more than nice, it’s still not enough. Eyes narrowing at you, he speaks again. “Use your words, or you’re not getting what you want.”
“What happened to ‘I just wanna help?’” You say, despite knowing you don’t have the upper hand here. Not when you’re half naked under him, his body pinning you to his mattress.
He grins down at you, his teeth showing when he grinds his palm against your clit, pulling a breathy moan from your lips. “I do, but you gotta show me how much you want this. That you’re not here wishing it was him.” His voice darkens on the last few words, his smile fading.
Oh.
He’s jealous. Steve Harrington is jealous. “Steven,” you say with a sly smile. “Are you jealous?”
He huffs and rolls his eyes. “I don’t get jealous, Cookie. Especially not over Richie Blake,” he practically spits out his name.
If there’s one thing you’ve known about Steve, he's a terrible liar. So why not poke the bear? “What if I did wish it was Richie? Wish it was his hands all over my body, getting me like this?” You say, reaching out and palming him through his basketball shorts, trying not to let your breath catch at the firmness of him. “That it was his dick twitching in my hand?”
That snaps something within him. He immediately grips your wrists—not painfully, just enough where you can’t wiggle out easily—and pins them to the mattress, his face inches from yours. “Don’t fucking say his name,” he says through his teeth, eyes wild.
Something churns in your stomach, then builds like a forest fire tearing through the brush. Your cunt clenches, your panties feeling far too sticky to be comfortable. They’re practically clinging to you through your shorts. “It’s true,” you whisper, your voice cracking as you say it.
Without giving you a chance to respond, he captures your lips, his tongue licking into your mouth, breath mingling with yours. You moan into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding your aching pussy against his fattening bulge once again.
He reaches down, yanking your shorts and panties in one go. You flinch, cold air dusting over your heated skin as soon as the fabric leaves you. His mouth is still on yours as he explores your body, fingers slipping through your folds. Steve groans when he feels how soaked you are for him, his fingers spreading you wide open. “Real wet for someone thinkin’ about someone else, sweetheart,” he murmurs, the pad of his middle finger pressing firmly against your swollen clit.
“Oh, shit,” you whimper, intense pleasure striking through you as he finds the right rhythm, the right way to move to make you arch up into his touch.
“Like that, yeah?” He murmurs, circling his finger a little quicker, pulling more moans from your lips. You know he doesn’t have to ask; he already knows how gone you are without him doing much of anything.
Quickly, he pulls his fingers away, pulling a protesting whine from deep in your throat. Then, he begins to kiss down your body, his tongue dragging across your soft skin. Your eyes begin to widen when you realize what he’s doing. Steve settles between your legs, his hands wrapping around your thighs and yanking you downward toward his face.
You prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at him between your legs. Big mistake. His hair lies in messy waves over his forehead, his cheeks sun-kissed and freckled. Soft lips are flushed a pretty pink, plump and glistening with your spit. He’s already looking at you through his lashes, eyes half-lidded and glazed over.
The overwhelming warmth spreading through your body at just the sight of him intensifies when his tongue sweeps out, licking a broad stripe from your dripping hole to your clit. You moan a little too loudly, your head plopping back down onto the pillow.
He does it a few more times, tongue parting your folds. A groan vibrates against your skin, his nose pressing against your clit. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he murmurs, breathing in your scent deeply. “So perfect.”
Your face lights on fire, embarrassment heating your cheeks. Before you can dwell on it, Steve dives in. He laps at your pussy like he’s starving in the desert and you’re the only food in sight, his tongue dragging against your clit with such practiced precision that it makes you keen against him.
“Fuck- Steve!” You moan unabashedly, fingers twisting into the bedsheets, just looking for anything to grab.
A chuckle vibrates against your clit, sending more shockwaves through your entire body. He ducks his head, spearing his tongue inside of you, his nose nudging against your clit. Your hips lift off the bed, moans slipping from you without care. Thighs squeezing either side of his face, Steve pins them down, clicking his tongue once again. Why is that sound so hot?
“Steve, oh my god,” you drag out, eyes rolling back in your head.
He whimpers against you when your hips grind up against his face, needing even more. “Keep doing that, baby, get what you need,” he mumbles, latching right back onto your clit.
“Oh, fuck, right there!” You pant heavily, the coil deep in your stomach tightening until it feels like it’ll snap at any moment.
Just as you feel the rubber band lurching forward, suddenly everything just… stops. Your orgasm dies like a cigarette butt being stomped into the ground, flickering pathetically as it tries to ignite. Your eyes crack open, and you look up at the ceiling in confusion.
Slowly, you prop yourself up on your elbows, looking down between your legs. Steve’s sitting back on his haunches, his lips and chin glistening with your slick. He’s looking at you with a fire in his eyes, a small smile on his lips.
For a second, you think he might’ve miscalculated. Maybe he thought you had already cum? Anger rolls in through your veins, in heavy clouds. Of course you wasted a night on this idiot. “I didn’t finish, asshole! I thought you knew what you were doing.”
“I know,” he just says.
This completely catches you off guard, your eyebrows raising. He doesn’t give you the chance to protest much, however.
“Wha- Steve!” You yelp, eyes widening when he pushes you back onto the bed, a finger prodding at your entrance. He slides it in, pumping slowly. Your eyes widen, your cunt clenching around the intrusion.
When you look at his face, he seems to be searching for something. His finger curls deep within you, prodding with each movement. His smirk deepens when he finds that soft, spongy spot, confirming it when your hips twitch up, a loud whine bouncing off the walls. As soon as he finds it, he presses hard against it, sliding a second finger in.
He splits you apart on his fingers, curling them even harder with each deadly thrust of his wrist. Steve’s thumb presses against your clit, circling around it. The pleasure is so intense it almost burns, his fingers scissoring you open.
You climb up to the ledge a lot quicker than before, already so, so close from your ruined orgasm.
“Fuck, Steve! I’m so close, oh my god!” You moan, eyes rolling backwards.
“Cum for me, baby,” he murmurs.
This time, he lets you topple over the edge. Your cunt clenches around his fingers, your back bowing high off the bed. You cum hard and fast, his name on your lips like a prayer. Steve's fingers still work you, all the way through your orgasm. Except… they don’t stop. His thumb keeps circling your clit, pressing harder even after you’ve already finished.
“Steve!” You whine, squirming away from his touch.
But… he pins you down. He presses against your stomach, preventing you from moving away from his touch. “Hold still for me, honey,” he murmurs, that look of focus on his face returning.
Your nerves feel like they’re on fire, a million little needles pricking your skin. A foreign feeling bubbles deep within your stomach, your eyebrows furrowing. Loud moans fill the room, your thighs shaking violently with the overstimulation.
“Steve, I can’t-“ You sob, tears filling your waterline. “Please, it’s too much!”
“Shh, I know you can take it, baby,” he whispers, stroking your cheek with his other hand, contrasting the roughness of his fingers pounding into you.
Obscene noises fill the room, the loud squelching of your cunt with each thrust of his wrist causing your cheeks to sting. Steve doesn’t seem disgusted; however, it just urges him on more. “You’re soaking my wrist, god,” he mumbles, a wicked smirk on his lips.
His fingers reach a spot within you that has drool pooling at the corner of your lips, your eyes squeezing shut. Your mind is hazy with pure euphoria, nothing on your mind but him. You cum hard, again, yet Steve doesn’t stop, even when you clench around him like a vice.
“Bet he never made you feel like this, hm?” He murmurs, leaning down and peppering your neck in harsh bites.
You’re unable to respond, your vision black with the back of your eyelids, your toes curled so hard they’re cramping.
“He’s never had you like this, drooling, shaking, yeah?” He growls, changing the angle so instead of his thumb, it’s his palm grinding against your clit.
Loud, nonsense murmurs leave your lips; nothing you’re saying makes any sense, and Steve just laughs. It doesn’t feel mocking, however, but in your haze of pleasure you can’t place what it is.
Suddenly, your eyes snap open when a pressure begins to build low within your stomach. It’s unfamiliar but far too familiar all at the same time. Panic rips through your body at a sickening rate, your eyes wide. “Wait- Steve,” you yell, your hips snapping up.
His fingers press firm against your g-spot, your head thrown back and a loud squeal leaving your throat.
Liquid sprays out of you, soaking Steve’s entire arm and shorts, his sheets dampening beneath your ass. “There it is,” he growls.
His fingers continue to roll against your sensitive walls, your cunt clenching around his fingers like a fucking vice, making him almost unable to move them. “You’re doing so good, I know you can give me more.”
With one more grind of his palm against your abused clit, you squirt again, the bed absolutely ruined. You soak his arm all the way to the elbow, his face in absolute awe of you.
You go completely limp, your fingers that you hadn’t even realized were dug deep into his wrist unpeeling from his skin, your trembling legs dropping against the mattress. Chest rising and falling heavily, your heart almost cracks a rib from how hard you’re panting.
“Good girl,” he coos, leaning down and pressing his lips against your forehead, his gentleness almost shocking when compared to his motions from just a few moments earlier.
A wince slices through your teeth when he slides his fingers out, your cunt pulsing with oversensitivity. “Sorry,” he whispers, kissing your temple before flopping down on the bed next to you, facing the ceiling.
Steve gives you your space, letting your body relax and come down from the intense high he brought you to, multiple times. Slowly, you come to, your chest rising and falling at a normal pace, your heart slowing to a light jog. After what could either be five minutes or ten, you throw your arm over your eyes and huff out a soft, “Fuck.”
You feel him shift to his side on the bed, propping himself up on one elbow. “You okay, honey?” He whispers, voice soft, his fingers brushing your jaw.
“Mhm,” you mumble, still not really sure what just happened.
You shift just slightly, your heart dropping when you feel the wetness beneath your ass. Immediately, you sit up, your eyes bouncing between Steve’s sheets, comforter, and his clothing. “Oh my fucking god! I’m so sorry,” you rush out, your face tomato red.
Steve also sits up, chuckling as he shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says gently, placing a hand on your shoulder comfortingly.
Except, you’re not listening to a word he’s saying. “Oh my god, I ruined your bed!” You rush out, covering your face with your hands.
“Cookie, it’s just sheets. Eddie has extra. I promise you, it was hot,” he says, pulling your hands away from your face by your wrists. “I promise.”
“Are you sure? I-“ Realization dawns on you, all the color draining from your face. “Steve, holy shit, you made me squirt.”
A loud laugh rumbles from his chest, a hand running through his hair. “I did. Richie ever make you do that?” He tacks on, like he couldn’t help it.
You whip your head toward him, your face completely deadpan. “What the fuck do you think?”
Again, Steve laughs, leaning over to peck your lips. You kiss him back gently, palm against his neck, your thumb sliding against his jaw. “No one’s ever made me do that before,” you admit.
He pulls back, a victorious smile on his face. “Good.”
Shaking your head, you kiss him again, his lips firm against yours. Although it’s not as heated as before, something flickers in the background, growing and sparking.
He shifts, pulling your bare chest against his, his tank rough against your sensitive nipples. You reach out blindly, your palm finding the bulge in his shorts that still hasn’t gone down. You hear him whine into your mouth, his dick twitching against your hand when you squeeze.
“Honey,” he whispers once your hands travel up his tank, pulling it upward. “Hey, hey,” he stops you, grabbing your hands. “We don’t have to. Tonight was about you.”
Shutting him up with another kiss to his lips, you brush his hair out of his face. “It’s not fair I get to feel that good and you just get nothing.”
Any protest he has dies on his tongue when you squeeze his dick again, his hips grinding up into your palm. “Ah- Cookie,” he grunts, head thrown back.
“I want you in me, Steve,” you whisper into the shell of his ear.
Immediately, his eyes snap open, scanning each crease of your face once you pull back. “Are you sure? I mean…” He trails off, motioning to his ruined sheets.
“I can take it,” you say firmly, although you’re not really sure you can.
“Yeah?” He whispers, his thumb pulling your bottom lip down, watching as it snaps back up when he lets go.
“Yeah,” you say back, already tugging his tank top over his head.
Steve snaps out of it, helping you pull it off of him. Before he gets a chance to move on top of you, you push him back, getting a good look at the expanse of newly revealed skin. And god, he’s gorgeous. Dark curls of hair cover the length of his chest, his stomach just slightly toned, a little soft. You can see each dip of his ribs, a trail of hair below his navel dipping all the way into his waistband.
Most eye-catching, though, are the jagged scars that twist into his flesh, deep and tinted purple. Your lips part at the sight, his stomach clenching when you drag your fingers over them. It looks like something bit down into his skin and pulled him apart slowly. The thought alone makes you shudder.
The question dies on your tongue when he follows your gaze, his tongue coming out to wet his lips, a nervous tick you remember from high school. “Story for another day,” he murmurs, gasping low and deep when you lean down to press your lips against each raised scar.
He whispers your name, his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and something else you can’t place. With shaking hands, you reach down and undo his drawstring, peeling the damp fabric down his thighs. Steve kicks them off the rest of the way, leaving him in nothing but tight navy briefs. Due to the dimness of the room, you’re unable to see much through the dark fabric, not like you could see the silvery scars practically shining on his skin.
Before sliding your thumbs in his waistband and tugging downwards, you take a shaky breath in. You’ve heard far too many rumors about Steve Harrington, so many you can barely keep track of all of them. But the one that you’ve heard most, the one that everyone and their mother spread around in High School? Steve Harrington is hung. Not only is he long, but thick too. You remember sitting in chemistry class senior year, hearing Stephanie Wiggins pop her gum and describe exactly what he’s working with in excruciating detail. Yeah, it was a rough class.
You used to roll your eyes at the chatter, chalking it up to rumors Steve himself spread, that girls who wanted to sleep with him—but never got the chance to—grabbed onto as ‘proof’ that he let them.
But now, you’re a little nervous. After what he just made you do, you’re not sure how much more you’re going to be able to take.
Still, you hook your thumbs lower, pulling the fabric away from him. He lifts his hips, helping you slide them completely from his body. When your eyes flicker back to where your mind has been all night, your heart drops.
Every single rumor you’ve heard? They’re all true. Every last one of them. Even the one where Casey Atkins said his dick was “pretty.” You cringed at it when you overheard her in gym class, but it’s true.
He’s long and thick, the skin tanned and looking so, so soft. The tip is flushed a light pink, precum already leaking down the shaft. Thick veins snake around in coiling lines, enticing you to drag your tongue across them. A trimmed patch of hair sits at his base, connecting to his happy trail that you refuse to admit turns you on to no end.
“You want a picture?” He says coyly, seeing how wide your eyes have gotten.
Your eyes snap up to his, a sly look on his face that you want to kiss off. “Shut up,” you say, your cheeks pink.
“You should watch your mouth, Cookie,” he whispers.
Steve opens his mouth again, probably to tease you more, but every single word dies on his tongue when your small hand wraps around his dick, your thumb swiping out to smear the dot of precum. “Oh,” he breathes out, his lips parting.
To your delight, he lets out soft little whimpers when you lean over and let a string of spit fall from your lips to your fist, making your palm glide easier across his shaft. He throws his arm over his eyes, his throat working with each whine that leaves his lips. “Baby, you keep doing that, I’m not gonna- fuck- last for you.”
The new pet name makes your movements falter for just a second, before picking up speed a moment later. “Then you better pin me down and do something about it,” you say, hoping he gets your insinuation. Despite how sensitive you still are, how the apex of your thighs is still pulsing with overstimulation, you can’t help but want him to manhandle you a bit, to pin you to the bed and get what he needs.
He drops his arm to his side, his eyes snapping to your face at the insinuation. “How do you want me?”
You tilt your head slightly, not really sure what he means, but you answer anyway. “As rough as you want.”
Adam's apple bobs when he swallows, your eyes tracking the movement. “You sure? I don’t wanna hurt you,” he whispers, your name, his voice so sweetly earnest it melts you a bit, despite the lewd situation.
“Please?” You whisper. A thought crosses your mind, words that you know will drive him mad–exactly what you want. “Fuck him out of me.”
The effect is near immediate. Steve’s eyes widen, his eyebrows furrowing so tightly it makes you smile. He lurches forward, fingers digging into your hips and flipping you over, your stomach pressed against the still-damp sheets. It should gross you out, but it does the opposite, your thighs pressing together.
“Ass up,” he grunts, pushing your upper back down to make you arch. When you’re fully exposed to him in the low light, he groans, spreading you open with his thumbs. “Look at this pretty pussy. So wet, all for me," he murmurs, not as a question. A statement.
You blush, knowing how much of yourself you’re giving to him. But you don’t regret it; you don’t feel uncomfortable. Steve makes you feel safe, seen. Loved. Quickly, you shove that thought from your mind quickly. That’s not something you should be thinking about, especially not when the circumstances of this hookup aren’t romantic whatsoever. Purely a favor on his part.
The thoughts bounce out of reach when you feel the blunt head of his dick slide through your dripping folds, once, twice. “Condom?” He asks, pulling back just slightly.
The thought of having him bare makes your stomach clench almost immediately. “I’m on the pill.”
He’s silent. For a moment too long. You think he might be regretting it, that this has gone too far. But when he grabs your ass, his nails digging into your skin, you know that’s far from the truth. “Fuckin’ hell, you want me raw?”
Nodding as hard as you can, you wiggle your ass back onto him, gritting your teeth when a vein drags against your clit. “Don’t pull out.”
“Holy shit,” he breathes out, nearly a disbelieving laugh. “You want me to fill this pussy up, huh? Have you full of me?”
“Please, fuck, please,” you moan out, gripping the pillow in preparation, breathing in his cologne that’s soaked through the fabric.
“Can’t believe you’re letting me do this,” he murmurs, pressing his tip against your weeping hole.
The stretch is quick to come, making you both groan at the same time, Steve’s fingers pressing bruises into your hips. “Fuuckkkk, so tight f’me,” he groans, nearly doubling over.
You almost yell at the burn that’s so good it’s overwhelming, his dick nearly splitting you open. “Fuck, Steve!” You moan out, knuckles cracking at the force of them twisting in the sheets.
He pushes in halfway, your cunt clenching around him, forcing an obscene moan from his throat. He rubs his hand up and down your spine, nails dragging a soothing pattern. “Breathe for me, baby, come on.”
You do as he says, trying to follow his exaggerated breath from the effort of him trying not to slam right into you. He can feel your body relax and flutter around his dick, dragging him deeper. “There we go, so good, you’re doing so good,” he coos, his voice becoming breathy in a way you can’t recall having heard before.
“Deeper,” you whine out, pushing back onto him.
The breath is punched out of his chest when his hips meet yours, his dick fully sheathed within your waiting cunt. “Jesus Christ,” he groans, unable to hold back from rolling his hips.
The fat head of his dick just barely kisses your cervix, your thighs trembling already. You’ve never felt this full before, this sensitive. And no one, especially not Richie, has reached this deep within you before. “Steve,” you whimper pathetically, your eyes squeezing shut.
“I know, I know,” he coos, his thumbs spreading you wider. You can feel him watching in awe as he slowly pulls himself out, all the way to the tip. Then, without warning, he shoves forward, slamming back into you in one brutal thrust.
His headboard slams against the wall, your mouth opening in a silent scream. He does it again and again, the breath quickly stolen from your lungs. “Fuck, take it baby, take this dick,” he grunts, yanking you backwards onto him, spearing into you at a brutal, unrelenting pace.
Each time he punches forward, his tip bullies your g-spot so perfectly that you have to bite the pillow to stop yourself from screaming.
The sound of skin slapping skin bounces off the walls of the cabin, your pussy squelching obscenely loud with each snap of his hips into you. With each thrust in, Steve’s grip on your ass gets tighter, his thumb just barely brushing against your hole.
You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but a fire begins to burn brightly deep in your stomach. It’s a type of want you’ve never felt before, for something you’ve always been curious about. Not able to make out any sounds other than moans and screams, you arch even harder, the pad of his thumb pressed right against it.
His hips still for just a moment before he snaps them forward once again, a breathy laugh tumbling out. “You like that?” He asks, pressing firmer.
Whining out a “yes” is all it takes for Steve to run with it. You feel him spread you open even wider, leaving no amount of decency. A gasp tears out of your throat when you feel a glob of spit land right on your hole, warm and wet.
“Gonna try something, honey, tell me if it hurts,” he grunts out, spreading his spit with his thumb. Then, making your eyes bulge out of your head, you can feel the tip of his thumb push through the tight ring of muscle.
As soon as it does, your stomach tingles, your walls fluttering. It feels strange and new, but so, so good. When you moan his name instead of wincing in pain, he sinks the digit inside down to the knuckle. No one’s ever touched you back there, not even yourself. You moan loudly, bouncing back onto him.
“Fuck, you really like that,” he laughs out, more so in shock than in an effort to humiliate. He keeps his thumb still as he thrusts into your cunt, stretching you wide open with each movement.
Suddenly, he reaches forward, his chest pressing against your shoulder blades. Steve wraps his fingers around your throat, yanking you backward. He sits up on his knees, your back pressed firmly against his front. With his free hand, he grabs at your jaw roughly and tilts your head to the side, his lips locking with yours.
The kiss is more than sloppy, both of you panting into each other's mouths more than kissing. Your eyes flutter open, looking into his. And god, he looks good. A bead of sweat drips down his forehead, his lips parted and his face flushed. His hair is messy and plastered to his forehead with sweat, hanging over the arch of his furrowed brows.
His thumb still thrusts into your tight hole, despite the awkward angle. Steve’s other hand locks around your throat, squeezing your pulse points just barely. It’s not so much where it hurts or makes you panic, but just enough to make your breath leave you in ragged pants.
With both of his hands occupied, your own travel downwards, shaking fingers circling your swollen clit. Once Steve realizes what you’re doing, he groans, his lips brushing your temple.
“Keep touching yourself, baby,” Steve murmurs, his voice so husky that you know he’s close.
Steve knows it too, his efforts doubling. He thrusts his thumb fully inside of you, his fingers tightening around your throat. “Come with me, please, honey,” he pleads.
Drool begins to spill down your chin, tears tracking down your cheeks. You murmur his name over and over, it being the only sound you’re able to conjure up. The coil in you tightens so fast you lose your breath, your head knocking back against his shoulder.
“You can do it, fuck, come on,” he grunts, holding his own orgasm as long as he can.
Then, with one more rough thrust, you come undone. You soar over the edge of your orgasm, your cunt clenching down on him like a vice, your legs shaking and a loud scream tearing from your lips. Steve immediately reaches up, his palm pressed tight against your mouth. It muffles you just enough, your breath hot on his hand.
Then, finally, he buries himself to the hilt, twitching once, then twice. He spills within you, hot cum coating your sensitive walls, intensifying the aftershocks of your own orgasm. Steve’s teeth sink into your shoulder, muffling his own noises.
You sit shaking in his arms, his teeth still sunk into plush skin as you both come down from the intense high. After some time, Steve gently pulls back, kissing the bite and murmuring soft apologies. His thumb drags out of your tight hole, making you cry out once again. “I know, shhh,” he whispers, gently peppering kisses across your neck.
Then, he slowly pulls out of your abused cunt, laying you down on your stomach. He groans, watching his release drip out of your pussy onto his sheets, and he physically has to avert his eyes. Steve sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing sweet circles on your back. You lay there, trying and near failing to catch your breath.
After some urging from Steve, you’re able to blink the tears away, the clouds hovering over your mind clearing. You're able to register gentle kisses on your shoulder blades and the scent of sex lingering in the air. When he hears your breath calm, his fingers draw hearts into your skin. “You okay?”
“Mhm,” you murmur, completely spent and exhausted.
“Did I go too far?” Steve whispers, worry dripping like honey into his tone.
Then, you turn your head and look up at him, your voice sincere. “No. But.. think you’ve ruined me for anyone else,” you're able to get out.
At that, Steve chuckles, brushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead. “I’ll take it you're not still thinking about him?”
The question catches you slightly off guard. “Huh?”
He lets out a loud laugh at the confusion on your face, like he’s completely fucked the man out of you, just like you asked. “Richie,” he clarifies.
You shudder at the thought of him, the feeling you typically get when you hear those two syllables completely bleeding out of your body. “Ew,” you say, nose scrunching in disgust.
Steve just laughs and shakes his head, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I’m gonna run you a bath, okay? Then I’ll change these sheets.”
Your heart pounds against your ribs at the thought of him taking care of you like that, the feeling weird when it’s associated with Steve Harrington. “You don’t have to do that,” you whisper.
“Oh, Cookie, I definitely have to change these sheets. As much as I love you, don’t think I wanna be sleeping in that all night,” he teases. The words slip out almost mindlessly. You realize he doesn’t even know what he said when he stands up and hums softly to himself while he strolls to the bathroom.
You lay there in his bed, your eyes wide and your breath still. Did he really just say that? Did you imagine it in a post-mind-blowing sex haze? More importantly, why does it make your heart bloom?
You’ve never felt that way about Steve. Not once. Well… perhaps you had a little crush on him in high school when you were friends. Okay, more than a little crush. But love? That’s ridiculous. Sure, you’ve come not to hate him after the night he just gave you. But it’s just the result of all the orgasms he brought you to. Not because you have feelings for him.
Sure, maybe you are very attracted to him. And sure, maybe you only wanted Richie at first because you knew Steve was a mutual friend. But then you fell in love with him!
Oh.
You’ve never admitted that to yourself. You’ve always convinced yourself otherwise. That if you truly wanted Steve to notice you again, you would’ve dated Eddie, or even Jonathan. But looking back now, it was a desperate ploy to get him to speak to you again, to realize he missed you.
Of course, you truly did love Richie at some point in time; you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t. You truly did miss him deeply, too. But maybe, after he broke your heart, the scar was older. Older and deeper than you’d like to admit.
Just as you come to the realization, Steve creeps out of the bathroom, a new pair of boxers covering his body. He stands in the doorway awkwardly, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his head. “Um. I didn’t mean to- uh,” he coughs, and now you realize what he said dawned on him. “Slip of the tongue,” he tacks on haphazardly.
You sit up and tuck your legs beneath you. His eyes don’t even stray from the floor, even when the blanket falls from your shoulders. “Why did you stop talking to me?” You ask, shakily.
“Huh?”
“In high school?” You ask. Your voice isn’t angry; you’ve gone long past anger. You’re just… curious. A tad hurt. “You were my best friend. Was I not yours?”
“Oh honey,” he says, voice cracking. He walks over to you quickly, cupping your face with both his hands. “Of course you were. I was so fucking stupid back then. Tommy and Carol teased me about being friends with you, and I just… I listened. And god, I regret it every day. I regret every day I didn’t talk to you. Every day I pushed you away. You know, last summer? I wanted to apologize. I couldn’t find the words, especially when I saw you with him,” he rushes out. “I’ve been so stupid, Cookie.”
You swallow thickly. “You have.”
Steve chuckles, his thumb brushing against your cheek.
“I think I have, too,” you admit, looking down at your lap.
Just as you can hear him about to protest, you stand up on shaky legs, fingers wrapping around his wrists. You hold his gaze steadily. “I did love Richie; I can’t tell you I didn’t. But… I don’t know. It feels like he’s a step in my path to someone else. To the person I wanted to be with all along.”
Steve’s eyes widen, his eyebrow quirking.
“To you, Steve,” you say with a wobbly smile.
He blinks at you in shock, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he scrapes up a squeaky “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you repeat, leaning in to press your mouth against his in a soft, chaste kiss. Then, with a deep breath, you whisper against his lips, “I love you, too.”
At that, Steve lets out a breathy near-sob, unable to help himself from tugging you against his body, his arms wrapped tight around you. You stand there, chest to chest, heart to heart, breathing in his scent, basking in his touch.
It feels like you’ve come home, like you’ve come up for air after sinking to the depths of the ocean for so long.
୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧
Over the next few weeks, your relationship blossoms and grows. To the dismay of Eddie—who you’ve promptly kicked out of his own cabin multiple times—you spend almost every night with Steve, sometimes naked beneath his sheets, sometimes just resting in his arms while a movie plays faintly on the boxy TV on his dresser.
The only people who know are Robin and Eddie, the former of whom ran around screaming when you first informed her. Although she was slightly suspicious of Steve’s intentions, after speaking with him, she became nothing but supportive of you both.
Although you’d like to shout from the rooftops your love for him, his love for you, you both decided it’s best to keep it quiet. Word spreads fast around camp, rumors wild and violent. There’s no need to give people something to sink their teeth into, especially after the things Richie spread about you.
One night, you’re in your own cabin for a change, Steve’s head ducked between your legs, his favorite spot. He laves at your folds lazily, his finger sliding against your walls nice and slow. Your shirt is pulled up around your neck, his hand squeezing around your tit, your own curled tight around his hair.
You moan softly, grinding your hips against his face. Just as you begin to feel that now-familiar pressure in you build, loud knocks crack against your door.
Steve pauses, his eyes flicking up. You glance toward the door and just shrug, urging him to continue. “It’s probably Robin forgetting something. She’ll go away,” you whisper, only feeling slightly bad for urging her into Nancy’s cabin for the night.
At your word, Steve gets back to work, his finger spearing into you a little quicker now. He groans in frustration when the knocks sound again, louder and quicker. You’re about to tell him to keep going when you hear a familiar voice calling out your name.
Richie.
“Can we talk?”
Steve’s head quickly snaps up, your eyes widening. “The fuck?” He whispers, sitting up on his haunches.
Your heart sinks into your stomach. What could he possibly want? You haven’t spoken to him in a year! When you see Steve about to get up, you place your hand on his shoulder, pushing him downwards. “Heel,” you joke, earning a playful jab to your stomach.
Quickly, you stand up on weak legs, pulling on your pajama shorts and fixing your t-shirt. You don’t bother fixing your hair or your pink cheeks. After all, you don’t have anyone to impress except the guy on your bed, and he’s seen every inch of you.
You pad over the door, opening it only enough for him to see you, just when he’s mid-knock. Richie’s face changes when his eyes rest on you, a small smile crawling its way onto it. If it were a few months earlier, you’d melt.
“What?” You say, slightly snippy. God, you really wanna get back to having your boyfriend's mouth on your clit.
Richie clears his throat and runs a hand through his grown-out buzz, mussing the sandy waves. “I just- I wanted to talk to you.”
“About?” You cross your arms.
“I think- I made a mistake, blossom,” he admits, his old nickname for you not even sparking the smallest of flames within you. “With Hollie.”
You don’t speak, just tilting your head to urge him to either speak or get the hell off your porch. “I miss you, okay? I shouldn’t have let you go. Hollie’s nothing compared to you, my blossom,” he says, reaching forward and taking your hand in his.
Eyes widening, your heart drops. The fucking nerve he has to come crawling back to you after everything he did to you, after everything he said behind your back, too cowardly to say it to your face.
“I want you by my side again, I want you to be my future. Remember what we talked about? California? Us on the beach?” He says, eyes shining.
You pull your hand away, wiping it on your shirt. Richie’s eyes widen just slightly at the motion, his irises swirling with confusion. “Blossom? I know you miss me, baby. I heard you and your friend talking about it just a few weeks ago,” he almost pleads.
“Richie, get lost. We both know you’re doing this because Hollie dropped your ass,” you say, voice firm and final.
His eyebrows furrow in pure confusion. “I don’t- Come on, don’t do that,” he murmurs, reaching out to grab your hand again. When he does, you can hear the bed springs behind you squeak, the noise just barely there.
Suddenly, you feel a large, warm palm wrapping around your waist. You watch as Steve’s fingers wrap around the door, yanking it open to reveal him behind you. “She said get lost,” Steve says, pulling you back against his bare chest.
Immediately, Richie drops his frozen arm, his eyes as wide as saucers. It’s almost comical, really. His eyes dance around the scene in front of him, gaze landing on the bite marks on your neck, the purple marks on Steve’s. The mess of your hair and Steve’s, his state of undress. Finally, his eyes land on the shirt you're wearing. Undeniably, it’s not yours. An old Hawkins High swim team tee.
“What the fuck!” Richie spits out, more so directed at Steve than you. “You’re an asshole, Harrington! What kinda friend fucks his buddy's ex?”
Steve’s arm wraps around you tighter, as if Richie would reach out and take you away from him.
“First of all, we’re not buddies. Second of all, you don’t own her. Especially not after the shit you spewed to everyone about her.”
Richie shakes his head, his face red with anger. “Blossom, you don’t seriously want this prick, be serious! He’s all talk and no dick!”
At that, you can’t help but chuckle, your eyes widening and your palm slapping against your mouth. Richie flinches back, his eyes wild with anger.
“Sorry- I just- this is rich coming from the guy I had to fake orgasms with for a year,” you get out, amusement leaking into your voice.
Richie scoffs, running a hand through his hair. He seems twitchy, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides, like he’s ready to punch something. Or someone.
“Get lost,” Steve says firmly, slamming the door right in his face.
As soon as the wood cracks against the frame, Richie screams profanities on the other side, his boots stomping on the gravel while he storms away, probably off to lick his wounds.
You spin around, wrapping your arms around Steve’s neck, your head tilted up. Anger is settled deep on his face, his eyebrows creased so hard it has to be giving him a pretty strong headache. You smooth out the wrinkle between his brows with your thumb, his face relaxing just barely.
“Calm down, Stevie. Save your energy for me,” you whisper, kissing him gently.
He melts against you, palm pressing against your spine, holding you against his chest.
“I love you, Steve. More than I can say. Not him,” you whisper against his lips, brushing his hair back from his forehead.
“I love you more, Cookie,” he says with a smile.
Slowly, you pull back, cupping his jaw. “You know, you’ve never told me why you call me that.”
Steve smiles sheepishly, his breath hitching for a moment. “You really wanna know?”
“Of course I do. You’ve been saying it since ninth grade.”
“I don’t know… You were always just so warm. Comforting. Something I wanted to go to when I had a shitty day.”
You blink at him, your smile wobbly and sincere. “You’re so corny,” you laugh, the sentiment full of so much love.
“That’s why you love me,” he dips his head down, pressing his smile against yours.
୨♡୧
a/n: hope you enjoyed! this fic is unfortunately inspired by my own sad life. fuck you camp guy.
TW for the whole story : reader is kinda bat shit crazy, age gap (23 / 43), smut (not in this chapter), obsession, jealousy, stalking, issues, failure in college life, revenge, violence, complicated relationship with parents
Words : 3.5k
A/N : ok so yesterday I started writing this story and kinda got lost in it and wrote 3k words lol. I'm putting it out, not sure if anyone will like it bc it's not what I usually write, if so I'll keep going lmk bc everything's already planned in my head so it could be a quick story idk
When you turned eighteen, the first thing you did was leaving Lehigh without looking back. It wasn’t so much for the fact that you didn’t like this town, Lehigh had never been the problem, it was everything waiting for you every time you walked through your parents' front door. The constant tension, the silence that was sometimes louder than the shouting, the feeling that no matter what you did, it would never be enough.
So, the second you graduated high school, you packed two suitcases into your old car and drove to the nearest city big enough to have a university worth attending, Minneapolis. Compared to Lehigh, it felt enormous with its busy streets, people everywhere and buildings taller than anything you had ever seen growing up. Here, no one knew your name, your parents and nobody cared where you came from, you loved that.
At first, the plan had been simple. Finish your degree, find a job and never move back. Life, unfortunately, had other ideas. Your first two years at university had gone well enough, then you had met someone. Looking back, you weren't even sure when things had started going wrong, it was just one bad decision followed by another and a relationship that slowly became impossible to recognize. Somewhere along the way, lectures turned into skipped classes, skipped classes turned into failed exams and eventually, you stopped going altogether. Before you even realized it, your university life ended.
At 23 years old, you had found yourself driving back to Lehigh with the same two suitcases you had left with five years earlier. Your parents hadn't exactly welcomed you home because to them, your return was proof that you had failed, and the conversations around the dinner table became even shorter than before. You spent months sleeping too late, sending out applications you never heard back from and pretending not to notice the disappointed looks every time your father asked if you had "heard anything yet."
Then, one evening, he walked into the kitchen holding his phone. “I might've found something for you.” As it turned out, your father had known Sheriff Tillman for years, long before he even became sheriff, and long before either of them had gone gray. They weren't best friends by any means, but they had crossed paths enough over the years that asking for a favor didn’t feel completely out of place.
The Stark County Sheriff's Office happened to be looking for someone to work reception, and you happened to need a job, that was all there was to it.
Today was only your second day. Yesterday was spent shadowing one of the deputies, learning how to answer calls, transfer them to the right people, schedule appointments and somehow make sense of the endless paperwork flowing through the station every damn hour. There had been so much information that half of it had blurred together before lunch. But today, you were on your own.
You pulled into the parking lot a little earlier than necessary, if there was one thing you still believed, it was that being early was better than apologizing for being late. The morning air made you shiver as you climbed the front steps, unlocked the glass entrance and stepped inside. The station was already awake, a couple of deputies were talking near the bullpen and someone was laughing somewhere down the hallway. The coffee machine was already working overtime.
“Morning.” You smiled as you walked past, a few people greeted you back without looking up from whatever reports they were reading. The atmosphere felt surprisingly... normal, not nearly as intimidating as you'd expected a sheriff's office to be. You hung your jacket over the back of your chair, set your bag beneath the reception desk and switched your computer on.
Your inbox was already fuller than you'd hoped. Taking a slow breath, you wrapped both hands around your mug, watched the computer finish loading, then settled into your chair. Second day, you could do this.
By the time the clock on your computer read 10:54AM, the morning rush had finally started to slow down. The phone hadn't stopped ringing for the better part of two hours, appointments, questions, people walking in and out of the station. You were just filing away the last incident report when the front door opened again. Your eyes lifted automatically as Sheriff Gator Tillman stepped inside. For a second, everything else seemed to disappear, it was the first time you had seen him in years.
He definitely had changed, there were a few more lines around his eyes than you remembered. His shoulders looked broader somehow, years of carrying a badge and responsibilities settling into the way he carried himself. His hair was a little shorter, but still with two little lines shaved on the side of his head, his jaw rough with the beginning of an afternoon beard. He had gotten older, there was no denying that. And somehow, he had only gotten more handsome.
You used to have the biggest crush on him growing up. Every time he would show up at your parents' house to see your dad, your heart had insisted on doing that stupid little flip teenagers always swore was normal. You assumed you would grow out of it, but apparently, you hadn’t. Before he even made it halfway across the lobby, one of the deputies intercepted him. “Sheriff.” Gator barely had time to take his jacket off.
“What ?”
“We've got an issue with the Wilson report. The prosecutor called again.” He closed his eyes for a second.
“For Christ’s sake…” You watched him rub a tired hand across his face. “I've been here thirty seconds.”
“I know.”
“You couldn't have waited thirty-one ?” The deputy laughed.
“Nope, sorry sheriff.” Gator let out a long sigh before shaking his head.
“Fine.” He gestured for the deputy to follow him. “Show me.” You watched him disappear down the hallway toward his office. God, even watching him complain was attractive. You immediately looked back down at your paperwork, shaking your head, get a grip seriously. You shifted in your chair, trying to ignore the warmth creeping into your cheeks. Sheriff, the title still sounded strange attached to his name. It had only been a few years since Roy Tillman had died, you were still away at university when it happened, your father had been the one to tell you.
“Guess Gator's sheriff now.” He said, just like everyone had always expected of him. Growing up in Lehigh meant growing up around rumors, and there had never been a shortage of rumors about the Tillmans. The one everyone seemed to agree on though, was his marriage. People said Roy had picked the woman himself, good family, good reputation, exactly the kind of wife a future sheriff was supposed to have.
Whether Gator had wanted any of it apparently hadn't mattered. Roy had made the decision and Gator had simply... obeyed, just like he always had. The years passed, he and his wife had two children, Roy eventually died and the sheriff's badge landed exactly where everyone knew it would : on Gator Tillman's chest. Meanwhile, you were apparently still carrying around the same ridiculous crush you had as a teenager. You honestly thought adulthood would've fixed that.
You stacked a few folders together before standing up, these needed his signature anyway. You might as well stop acting like seeing him was some life changing event, it was work, nothing more. You knocked lightly on his office door.
“Come in.” You pushed it open, Gator was standing behind his desk, reading through a report. He looked up and for a brief moment, his expression turned blank, almost confused, as if he couldn't quite place you. Then something clicked. “Oh.” His eyebrows lifted. “You’re Jack's daughter.” You smiled.
“That's me.” He leaned back slightly, studying your face for another second.
“I barely recognized you.”
“Well…” You shrugged with a small grin as he tilted his head.
“You've changed.”
“I certainly hope I have.” You placed the folders on his desk. “I'm a woman now.” The corner of his mouth lifted into a quiet laugh.
“Yeah, I suppose you are. What are you now, twenty-two ?”
“Twenty-three actually.” He whistled to show he was surprised so much time had passed, and your heart decided to forget how to function. He picked up the folders.
“What can I do for you ?”
“I just need your signature on those.” He glanced through the first page.
“I'll go over them after this.” He tapped the stack lightly. “I'll bring them back out this afternoon, thank you.”
“You're welcome, sheriff.” You turned and walked back toward the door. As soon as it clicked shut behind you, you let out the breath you were holding. Your heart was beating much faster than it had any business doing. “Get it together bitch.” You muttered under your breath as you shook your head once, trying to clear it. He was your boss, married, almost twenty years older than you, and somehow he was still the most attractive men you had ever seen.
By the time you finished sorting the last of the paperwork, the station had grown quiet, most of the deputies had already clocked out for the day. The bullpen that had been buzzing with conversations all afternoon now echoed with little more than the occasional ringing phone from somewhere deeper in the building. You staring at your computer when a shadow stopped beside your desk. You looked up and Gator was there, was holding the stack of folders you had left on his desk that morning. “Sorry.” He set them down in front of you. “I completely lost track of time.” You smiled, probably a little brighter than necessary.
“It's okay.” You pulled the folders closer. “I had plenty of other things to do anyway.” He nodded.
“I appreciate it.” As you slid the signed paperwork into the outgoing tray, he rested one hand on the reception counter. “How's your dad doing ?” You looked back up.
“He's doing good.”
“He still complaining about his back ?” You laughed.
“Every single day.”
“That sounds about right.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Tell him I'll stop by soon, I’ve been meaning to for weeks.”
“He'll be happy to hear that.” Gator glanced around the station, the lights over the empty desks were already switching to night mode and only one deputy remained, finishing paperwork at the far end of the room. He looked back at you.
“You should head home, you’ve been here long enough.” You looked at the clock, and he was right, you hadn't even noticed how late it had gotten.
“Yes, Sheriff.” You stood, grabbed your bag from beneath the desk and slipped your jacket on. By the time you reached the entrance, Gator was already holding the door open, so you stepped outside beside him.
“Well… Goodnight, Sheriff.” You smiled, and he looked over at you, shaking his head.
“You don't have to call me Sheriff.” He smiled, just enough to soften the tiredness on his face. “You've known me since you were a kid.” He tucked his keys into the pocket of his jacket. “And we're working together now, so just call me Gator.” Something warm settled deep in your chest, it was ridiculous, it was his goddamn name, the one you had been calling him in your head for years. But still, hearing him give you permission felt quite intimate. You smiled again.
“Okay. Goodnight... Gator.” His smile widened just a fraction.
“Drive safe.”
“You too.” You watched him walk across the parking lot toward his cruiser. He climbed inside but didn't start the engine immediately. Instead, he picked up his phone, the glow from the screen lit his face for a few quiet seconds before he slipped it back into his pocket, started the engine and slowly pulled out of the parking lot. You stood there just long enough to watch his taillights disappear onto the road, only then did you unlock your own car.
Dinner was already on the table by the time you got home. Your mother barely looked up from her plate, but your father did. “So ?” He pointed his fork toward you. “How was your day ?” You shrugged as you sat down.
“Good.”
“That all ?”
“Pretty much.” He raised an eyebrow.
“No disasters ?”
“Not yet.” A quiet laugh escaped him.
“I'll take that as a good sign.” You picked at your food for a moment before adding “Oh, Gator said he's going to stop by sometime soon.” Your father's face immediately brightened.
“Did he ? He's been saying that for months.” He thought for a second. “Actually… if you see him tomorrow, ask if he'd like to come over for dinner.”
“Tomorrow ?”
“It's Wednesday, we used to have dinner together every Wednesday back in the day.” You had never heard that story before. He took another bite before adding casually “It'd be nice to start that again. Him and his wife are both welcome, of course.” Your grip tightened ever so slightly around your fork, his wife, you felt something twist inside your gut, but forced yourself to keep your expression neutral.
“Yeah. I'll ask him ” You looked back down at your plate, barely finished your plate before heading to bed.
The next morning at the station started exactly like the last one, with phones ringing, deputies walking in and out and coffee brewing somewhere in the background. You had barely finished organizing the reception desk when the front doors opened and Gator stepped inside. He looked exhausted, not just tired, exhausted. Dark circles sat beneath his eyes, and his jaw was already clenched before he'd even made it three steps into the station. “Sheriff.” One deputy hurried toward him. “We've got a problem with the Jenkins warrant.” Another one appeared before the first had even finished speaking.
“And the county prosecutor called twice already.” A third voice came from somewhere behind them.
“Sheriff, have you got a minute ?” He stopped walking.
“For fuck’s sake, can you let me breathe ?” His tone wasn't loud, just worn thin. Nobody answered, they simply waited. He pinched the bridge of his nose before letting out a slow breath. “Okay. One at a time.” His voice had that edge to it now, sharper than yesterday. “You.” He pointed toward the deputy with the warrant. “Office. The rest of you can survive five damn minutes.” You quietly looked back down at your computer, probably not the best moment to ask him about dinner.
It wasn't until nearly noon that the station finally settled down. The deputies had disappeared one by one for lunch and you saw Gator leave his office, shrugging on his jacket while checking his watch. It was now or never. You stood and walked over before you could overthink it. “Gator ?” He looked up immediately and his expression softened the moment he recognized you. “You heading out ?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I need food before I start arresting innocent people.” A laugh escaped you.
“That bad ?”
“I've had six people ask me six different questions before eleven.”
“You are so dramatic.” The corner of his mouth lifted.
“What can I do for you ?”
“Oh.” You remembered why you had stopped him. “My dad wanted me to ask you something. He said... if you're free tonight... he'd love it if you came over for dinner.” For the first time that morning, he looked genuinely happy.
“Jack said that ?” You nodded.
“He said that's what you used to do every Wednesday.” A little smile settled on Gator's face.
“It's been a long time. Tell him I'd love to.” Relief immediately spread across your face and he hesitated for a second before adding “I'll probably come by myself, though.” You tried your best not to react.
“Okay.” He glanced toward the front door.
“You eating ?”
“I was just going to grab something.”
“What were you thinking ?” He asked, and you shrugged.
“Probably whatever's closest.” He jingled his truck keys in his hand.
“I'm heading to Miller’s. You're welcome to come if you want.” Your heart was suddenly beating much faster than it should have.
“I'd like that.”
“Good. Let's go.”
The drive only took a few minutes, most of it passed in comfortable silence. Gator drove with one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel, occasionally greeting people who waved as they passed. Apparently everyone in Stark County knew the sheriff.
The waitress greeted him by name before either of you had even reached a booth. “You're late today.”
“Busy morning.” She smiled knowingly.
“Aren't they all ?” She handed you both menus. “You know what you want ?” Gator closed his menu right away.
“Cheeseburger.”
“Fries ?”
“Always.” She nodded and looked at you.
“And for you, sweetheart ?” You ordered the same thing, and once she disappeared toward the kitchen, the silence returned. Gator rested his forearms on the table.
“So, how’d you like college ?” You laughed quietly.
“That's a complicated question.”
“I've got time.” You looked out the window for a moment.
“The first couple of years were actually great. I loved being away from Lehigh.” He nodded.
“I can understand that.”
“I thought I'd finish my degree, get a job and never come back here.”
“What happened ?” You smiled without much humor.
“I met someone. At first it was good, until it wasn’t.” You traced the edge of your napkin with one finger. “I stopped going to class as much and everything kind of... snowballed. Eventually I dropped out, and now I'm back here.” He watched you for a second.
“I'm sorry.”
“It is what it is.”
“It still sucks.” You hadn't expected that answer, most people simply told you that you'd made bad choices. He just acknowledged that it hurt. The waitress returned with your drinks before either of you spoke again. Once she left, you smiled.
“My turn.” He chuckled.
“Fair enough.”
“How old are your kids now ?”
“My son's twenty and my daughter's eighteen.”
“They're basically adults.” You replied, grinning.
“They like that description more than I do.” You laughed.
“I imagine.”
“They're good kids.” His expression softened in a way you hadn't seen before. “They make me proud.” You couldn't help smiling back.
“They must take after their dad.” You said, and he snorted.
“I hope not. I was an idiot at twenty.” The waitress set your food down and you thanked her before looking back at him.
“So…” You tried to sound as casual as possible. “Your wife…” He looked up, shoving a few fries in his mouth.
“What about her ?” He asked, and you chose your words more carefully.
“I don't know, I’ve never actually met her. You've been married a long time, right ?” He nodded once.
“Twenty years.”
“Wow. She must've been around before you became sheriff.”
“She was. She knew me before any of this.” He looked down at his plate for a brief moment. “She put up with a lot.” There was something about the way he said it, like it was heavy, as if those twenty years weighed more than they should. You were thinking about what your dad told you, that he was forced into marriage by his father. You also wondered why you cared so much. But despite your best efforts to hide it, a small, ugly feeling settled quietly in your chest. He still went home to her every night.
By the time the clock above the reception desk read 4PM, the station had started emptying out again. One by one, deputies wished each other a good evening before disappearing through the front doors. You finished answering one last phone call, closed your inbox and finally shut your computer down. You were reaching for your jacket when Gator's office door opened. He stepped out, rolling his shoulders as though trying to work the stiffness out of them. He looked up and the second he saw you, he smiled, not the polite smile he worn since you started working there, a real one. You smiled back before you could stop yourself. “See you tonight.” He stopped beside your desk.
“I've been looking forward to it all day.” He let out a quiet breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “It's been one thing after another since this morning.” He glanced around the nearly empty station before looking back at you. “It'll be nice. It'll do me some good and give me a damn break.” His eyes stayed on yours for another second, then he smiled again, the kind of smile that reached all the way to the corners of his eyes. Your heart lurched so hard it almost hurt.It was ridiculous, it was only dinner at your parent’s house, nothing about tonight was special. And yet, the fact that he was looking forward to seeing you all day made your chest warm up.
“Drive safe.” He said softly, giving you one last nod before heading toward the parking lot. You stood there for another moment, watching him leave. Your pulse still hadn't slowed by the time you climbed into your own car. You rested both hands on the steering wheel without starting the engine as one thought kept circling through your mind. He had smiled like that because he was happy to see you. And with it came another thought, uglier this time. You wanted that smile to belong to you and only you.
general taglist : @proooof @maaaachiii @us3r4682 @delphinemix
could i please order two scoops of pistachio in a cake cone with salted caramel sauce, oreo pieces and blue sprinkles ✨
(i hope i did that right) xoxo
Sundays
pairing: older!steve harrington x fem reader
summary: dating your neighbour seemed like a good idea until it didn’t. until he ended up tipsy and wet, at your doorstep, needing you one last time.
wc: 4.4k
warnings: explicit 18+ (minors dni), fingering, oral (f recieving), nipple play, dirty talk, finger sucking
an: order up!! here’s my first fic for my 500 follower celebration! thank u for ur kind words and ur request christina!!! i really hope u enjoy it <3 can’t wait to get through the rest of them! orders are still open if u too are hungry…
Falling in love with your neighbour seemed like the best idea in the world, until it wasn’t. It felt like the most incredible idea at the time – having a boyfriend who lived right next door meant you were able to have your own space, yet have him around all the time.
You met Steve Harrington the day you moved to Naperville. Moving out to the suburbs was exactly what you needed at the time. A change of scenery and an opportunity to slow life down a little bit, the hustle and bustle of living in the city becoming all too much.
The moving truck your friend had booked had to rush away for another job after dumping your whole life on the sidewalk outside your new home. You must’ve looked like a lost puppy, looking around the street you’d only visited once when viewing the small home.
Just as you were about to burst into tears, overwhelmed by the heat of the Illinois summer and the stress of moving house alone, your knight in shining armour appeared on the porch of the house next to your own.
“Hey, neighbour. You need a hand?” A deep, welcoming voice called from across the yard. As you lifted your head to put a face to the alluring voice, every inch of stress and doubt of your move dissolved from your shoulders.
He looked older than you by a few years at least, you’d probably say mid thirties. A pair of thick rimmed glasses sat on the end of his nose as his large hands enveloped around a mug of coffee. His face looked lived in and well loved, like his smile lines could tell you a thousand stories and his eyes had seen all the seven wonders of the world and then some.
You were quick to accept his offer, watching this beautiful stranger carry your boxes inside was your entertainment sorted for the day. With his strong arms and quick steps, the sidewalk was emptied within half an hour.
As you stood in the kitchen sorting out your boxes into different piles for different rooms, he was bringing in the last few boxes, his chin balancing on top as he walked through the house to join you at the kitchen island.
“Think that’s all of them.” He said as he placed your box of pots and pans down, wiping his clammy hands on his grey t-shirt before settling them at his hips.
“Thank you so much for your help– I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name, actually?” You tilted your head gently as you looked up at him, your eyes taking in the faint five o’clock shadow growing in across his upper lip and across the lower half of his face.
“Steve, Harrington.” He said with a small laugh huffing through his, lifting his hand from his hips to push his glasses up his nose before holding out to you.
You returned his small laugh, lifting your own hand to shake his. And as soon as your fingers touched his, slotting perfectly into your own, everything changed.
From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. He helped you distribute all of the boxes to each room, as well as helping you unpack them. He assisted you in rearranging the furniture, lugging your wooden framed bed across the room and helping you drag the sofa to underneath the window.
In exchange for helping you with the move, you offered to cook dinner for Steve that night. Over your meal, he then offered to make you dinner the following night. It soon became routine, swapping between houses each night with a bottle of wine on the porch.
Steve was the perfect tour guide, spending your weekend having Steve show you around the town as he told you about everything in his life that led him to Naperville. His job at an ice cream parlour, a video store, a baseball coach before moving onto a sex ed teacher which brought him to taking a job here at the high school, where he was now in the running to become vice principal.
After a few months, dinners and wine turned into nightcaps, soon turning into breakfast and the line between neighbours and just friends seemed to blur. Six months after moving to the suburbs, you were officially Steve Harrington’s girlfriend, and you couldn’t be happier.
You’d been in relationships before. In college and after, one even lasting for more than two years. You thought that you’d been in love before, but being with Steve made you realise that if this was love, then you had no idea what you’d been feeling before.
At the beginning, the relationship consisted of lazy Sunday mornings in bed. Waking up tangled with each other, your breaths becoming one as Steve’s thick cock thrusted inside of you lazily, both of your minds still hazy with sleep but desperate to feel one another.
Sunday afternoons were not much different. Laid on top of Steve on the sofa as the movie you’d begged to put on played mindlessly, muted by your whines and moans of pleasure as Steve’s fingers pooled at your slick heat, his hot mouth attached to your neck as he cooed another orgasm out of you.
The evenings were always your favourite. As you cooked the two of you dinner, Steve would light a few candles on the dining table and pick out a bottle of wine paired perfectly with whatever dish you were preparing. Your spare hands would be wrapped together, gazing into each other's eyes over the candle light, giggling as Steve spilt pasta sauce down his shirt because he was too distracted looking at you.
Everyday with Steve was perfect. It was perfect when he’d wake up in your house, or you’d wake up in his. Coming up on your one year anniversary you both had even had the conversation of moving in together, what’s the point in having two houses when you basically both live in one?
Everything was perfect, until it wasn’t.
Your favourite day of the week was soon taken over by Steve’s new workload, as he’d accepted the job as vice principal. Of course, you were over the moon for him, ecstatic that he’d got the job that he’d been dreaming of for too long.
But you were now waking up every Sunday alone, waking up most days alone seeing as Steve’s new schedule meant that he was waking up at four thirty every morning. He started missing dinners each night, he’d come home with the faint smell of beer on his breath, telling you he’d just gone for a drink with some of the other teachers after work.
On the occasion that he would join you for dinner, it was like he wasn’t even there. It went from imported red wine and steak over classical music and candlelight to mac and cheese out of a box, sat on the sofa as the two of you watched the highlights of the game that you’d just watched two hours before.
All of a sudden, it felt like the two of you had gone back to being just neighbours.
Steve fought for you. Hard. He practically fell to his knees in tears, telling you that he’d change and he’d be better, he wanted to be better for you. But he’d spent so long working this job, you couldn’t expect him to change for you. No matter how hard you wanted him to.
The first week was the hardest. Even though the last few months of the relationship, you’d spent the last few months basically alone, with a neighbour who would pop round occasionally to fuck you before saying he had to go home to finish paperwork, you could still feel the weight of the loss of him.
You missed finding his socks in your laundry basket. You missed using his body wash in the shower so you’d smell like him for the rest of the day. You missed picking up his favourite beer at the grocery store and putting it in the fridge straight away, ready for him to come home to. You missed everything about him, but you knew it was for the best.
Four months had passed since your break up. You’d only seen him a handful of times, surprisingly. You saw him one morning when you were taking out the trash, and your stomach dropped so fast that you started taking it out the night before just to avoid him.
He’d knocked on your door a few times, begging to see you. It took everything in you not to open the door and let him in, but you kept telling yourself, this is for the best. Hearing his shaky voice behind the wooden frame broke your heart every single time, but you stayed strong.
Because it wasn’t that you’d fallen out of love with Steve, that wasn’t it at all. You loved Steve so much that you didn’t want him to have to change to be better for you. He’d worked so hard, come so far. You’d told him that night that if you were meant to be together then you’d find your way back. The echoes of him crying that you were meant to be still haunted you when you tried to sleep at night.
Tonight, it was Sunday. Now, your least favourite day of the week.
The rain was hammering down on your window, trickling droplets down each pane as you spent the day resetting the house for the next week. You’d treated yourself to an extremely bubbly bath and a glass of red wine, sinking into the warmth as you tried to push the thoughts of what you would be doing under different circumstances down far, far away.
Just as you tipped your head back to finish off the glass, you heard a knock rattling your front door from downstairs. It was late, almost ten thirty on a Sunday night. Your brow furrowed in confusion, you weren’t expecting anyone. But curiosity got the better of you.
You stepped out of the bath, bubbles still laid on your skin as you quickly brushed your body off with a towel. The knocks were still present as you grabbed your pink fuzzy bathrobe from the back of your bathroom door, slipping it on your damp body and tying it around your waist as your legs carried you hurriedly down the stairs.
Without even thinking to check the peephole, you unhooked the latch and pulled the door wide open to reveal a very wet, very sad, slightly tipsy looking Steve standing before you.
The look on his face softened at the sight of you. His hair was soaked, the widened hazel in his eyes made him look like a saddened puppy as he inched forward slightly before stopping himself. “I– I’m sorry, I forgot my key and– Sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”
“It’s okay, Steve,” You said just as he turned around to walk back down the path. A slight twinkle appeared in his eye as you took a step backward to pull the door open further to let him in. “Come on, I’m sure I have one buried somewhere.”
As soon as he passed the threshold into your home, everything felt different.
He was only wearing a sweater, the once light grey material with his school’s logo printed across the chest now darkened with the rain. His jeans were soaked through too, it almost made you sad looking up at him to see him looking down at you with heartbreak still sitting on the tip of his tongue.
“Steve–” Your lips parted to speak, your back pressed against the front door as he now stood only a few feet in front of you.
“I’m sorry,” He interrupted with a sharp breath, blinking away the droplets of water that had fallen from his forehead and onto his lashes. With a small shake of his head, he continued. “I’m so sorry for taking you for granted, for taking us for granted. I– I never should’ve let anything come before you, baby. You’re my whole fucking world.”
You weren’t sure if it was rain or tears that were glistening down his cheeks, but it plucked at your heartstrings either way. For the last four months, this is everything that you’d been dreaming about.
“Steve, look–” Your words fell past your lips shakily as you lifted your hand from the handle of the door to push a few strands that had fallen from your hair clip behind your ear.
Steve practically leapt forward, his large palms finding refuge on the span of your hips, his fingers digging into the fuzzy fabric as he softly shook his head. “Baby. I– I haven’t gone one day without thinking about you. Everyday I look over here and I want to come over and take you in my arms and never let you go. Just– Please. Things will be different, baby, I promise. I’m managing my workload better, and I can be better–”
“Steve, honey,” You whispered softly as your hands shakily lifted to the dry part of his sweater, the crease of his elbows. Your breath hitched at the feeling of the fabric beneath your fingers, the soft cotton bringing back all the hugs and embraces you’d received from it. “I don’t want you to have to change who you are for me. Things just, changed.”
Steve closed the already small distance between you, his hands slipping up to your waist as he pulled your body into his own. “Just let me show you then. Let me show you how much I’ve missed you, baby. Please.”
It almost took your breath away, the fire behind his eyes as your body slotted so perfectly against his, it reminded you of the first time that he kissed you.
He’d walked you home after you’d gone to see a movie, right up to your door to make sure you’d gotten in safely. You’d invited him inside for a coffee despite it being half past ten on a Sunday night, and you’d both barely made it through the front door before he’d grabbed you and held you right up against it, his lips taking the breath from your lungs. Right in the same spot that you were right now.
You felt drunk on him, the smell of his favourite beer on his breath and the weight of his hands keeping you steady as you felt yourself floating away. You seemed to forget every reason you’d told yourself for breaking up with him in the first place, none of it seemed to matter when he made you feel like you were flying.
“Baby–” His voice was hoarse, almost testing as his grip at your waist pulled you even closer. His eyes bore into yours, and you could see the regret and feel his love through his dilated pupils as he let out a gentle sigh.
“Just– Just kiss me, baby. Please, I need you.” You spoke almost breathless as your hands slipped up the back of his arms, squeezing his shoulders gently before entwining at the back of his neck.
Without needing another reason to do so, Steve’s lips fell messily against yours. And it was perfect.
He practically sighed against your lips as your lips fell back into that familiar routine that you’d created during your first kiss, perfected during your first night together. His arms snaked around your waist, his body ducking into you as his tongue poked at the seam of your lips. They parted happily, like they’d been waiting for him to finally come home.
The two of you could’ve been stood there in front of your door for minutes, hours or days. Reality hit you when Steve reluctantly pulled his lips from yours, pressing a small peck to your lips before whispering against you. “I need you now, honey. Right fucking now.”
You nodded quickly, lifting yourself up on your toes to seal his words with a kiss of your own before turning the two of you, walking backward toward your staircase before Steve shook his head gently against your lips.
“I–I can’t wait, baby,” Steve huffed, pulling his hands from your lower back to snake to the front of your robe. He looked down at you, his chest heaving with anticipation as he began untying the pink knot. “This fuckin’ thing.”
You couldn’t help but giggle as your teeth sank into your lower lip, letting your back fall back against the front door as your chin dipped to your chest to watch his hands attempt to unwrap you.
“You got it, baby. C’mon.” You teasingly encouraged as you lifted your fingers to his jaw, tilting it upward to meet his gaze, to which he did with a small smirk. You couldn’t help but let out another small laugh, almost in disbelief that this was really happening.
A triumphant huff passed Steve’s lips as he finally untied the knot, dipping his head to brush his lips against your own as they enveloped your upper lip. Softly and tenderly as his fingers pulled the fabric apart, his lips stilling against yours as your robe fell open.
“Holy fuck,” He mumbled as his hand dipped past the open robe, his palm finding your waist as his arm held the pink fuzz from his view. His view of you, completely naked and at his ready. Something he’d been dreaming of every night, praying it would happen even just one more time. “How did you get even more beautiful?”
As you parted your lips to reply, Steve’s head had dipped to your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, his mouth wet as his lips dragged to your shoulder, the tips of his fingers pushing the pink robe toward the ground as his hand snaked up your body, your breast slotting into his hand like it belonged there.
Your fingertips slipped through the hair on the back of his head as his lips wrapped around your hardening nipple, your back arching off of the door and into his chest as his tongue toyed with the sensitive nub. His fingers were keeping your other breast busy, twisting and toying with you between his thumb and index finger.
Steve knew your body like the back of his hand, you thought even sometimes better than you knew it. He knew exactly how you liked his mouth suckling at your nipple and his palms pawing at you, like you were putty in his hands.
“God, Steve–” You whined as your chin tucked, looking down to watch the love of your life leave marks across the sensitive skin of your breast, marking you as his own.
“Missed these, baby,” He mumbled against your nipple before pulling his lips off of you with a small pop. His lips dragged lower, fluttering soft kisses against your sternum toward your bellybutton as he slowly graced himself onto his knees. “God, I missed this. Missed this fucking pussy so much.”
You gasped softly at his words, but Steve saw right through your front. He knew that you loved his filthy tongue, especially when it was pressing wet kisses against your lower stomach, inching closer to where you could only dream that he’d be again.
“You missed me, didn’t you, baby?” He mumbled against your skin, his eyes fluttering up to meet your own as his lips dragged through the hair on your mound. You felt him gasp against you as his nose notched just above your slit, his voice still a whisper. “Can smell how much you missed me.”
“Steve!” You swatted the back of his gently with the palm of your hand, your teeth sinking into your lower lip to fight back your growing smirk as his gaze found your own.
His palms fell to your thighs, his touch soft as they rubbed up and down the backs of your them as his fingertips tapped against you gently, urging you to spread them for him.
Of course, you obliged. Both of your hands falling into Steve’s hair as his tongue passed his lips, inching his chin forward to drag up up your glistening slit before teasingly circling at your clit.
“God, baby. Forgot how fucking good you taste,” Steve hummed against you as his grip on you tightened, almost as if he was grounding himself to revise that he was really here. “Could live here between your legs, baby. Taste like heaven.”
Your head fell backward, hitting the wooden door behind you with a small thump as Steve’s lips wrapped around your clit, the vibrations of his tongue working against you.
One of his hands dragged from the back of your thigh to bring two of his fingers to your slippery folds, the tips of them spreading you open to trace his tongue deeper inside you, familiarising himself with every inch of you that he’s been thinking of for the last four months.
You felt as if you were in heaven as his tongue found your clit again, the same time that his middle finger pooled at your soaking entrance. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let yourself relish in the pleasure, finally let Steve take care of you again.
“Feels so good, baby.” You whispered through breathy moans, your chest rising and falling with each shaky inhale as Steve’s finger slowly pushed into you.
“You feel so good, baby,” Steve mumbled against your clit, his nose pressing into your mound as his tongue sloppily licked at you, swirling and slurping at your throbbing nerve. “Soaking wet for me, honey. So fuckin’ wet and taste so good.”
Steve’s words were humming through you, and you could feel them coarsing through your veins. Steve adjusted his wrist, letting his ring finger join his middle as the thick digits fucked into you with fever, curling against the sweet spot inside of you that Steve knew like the back of his hand.
“Oh, that’s it, honey,” Steve cooed, pulling his lips off of your clit to lean back slightly, just to watch the fucked out look on your face as your grip on his hair tightened. “Tight little cunt just swallowing my fingers, you gonna come for me, baby? Go on, use them– All yours, baby. Just for you.”
Cries of pure pleasure were rolling off your tongue, your hips rolling into each of his thrusts to meet his hand as your thighs began to weaken beneath you.
“Fuck– Steve. Oh, fuck.” You whined as his mouth found its way back to your cunt, the sounds of his tongue lapping at your soaked folds, his fingers being swallowed by your tight heat and your cries of pleasure were enough to drown out the thunderstorm outside completely. In that moment, it was just you and Steve.
Steve hummed against you as he felt your walls fluttering around his fingers, pulsing as your orgasm approached. Steve knew you, knew your body and what you needed right now.
“Come for me, baby, please,” Steve moaned into you, his own hips rutting against nothing as the taste of you coated his tongue. He kept the pace of his fingers steady with each perfect curl, his tongue keeping tight circles against your clit. “Such a good girl, my perfect girl. All mine, baby.”
You nodded at his words, your stomach tightening with that familiar feeling as your orgasm inches closer and closer. Your fingers tugged at Steve’s hair, needing to ground yourself as your hips grind senselessly against Steve’s face.
“Take what you need, baby. ‘M all yours,” Steve huffed, his fingers fucking you with resolute as you nodded at his words, finally lifting your head from the door to look down at him. And when your eyes met his, you were done. “I love you, baby. I love you so much.”
With those final, perfect words, you were done for.
Your orgasm came crashing all at once, your heat pulsating around his fingers whilst your hips jerked against his face. Your moans were heavenly, hitting Steve’s ears like his favourite song had just come on the radio and he hadn’t heard it for years.
“I– I love you, Steve. I love you so much.” You panted as your grip loosened on his damp curls, your hips still rocking into his touch as he pressed one last, gentle kiss to your sensitive clit. He pulled his fingers out from you slowly, wasting no time to bring them up to his lips to clean them up.
His hand found your hip, gripping you for measure as he stood up from his knees. His lips were almost at his knuckles, humming around them before pulling them out with a small pop. He leant down, brushing his lips against your own softly.
The taste of yourself on his tongue was making you dizzy, your breath hitched into the kiss as his wet fingers dipped back between your legs and slowly dragged through your soaking, swollen lips one final time.
“If you give me another chance, things will be so different,” His voice left a whisper, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as your hands gripped the back of his neck. “You’re my number one, always have been and always will be.”
Both of his hands were steady at your waist now, his thumbs rubbing small circles into your skin as you nodded softly against his lips. He hummed against you gently, one of his arms shaking around to your lower back to pull you closer.
“You’re the love of my life, Steve. We can work through whatever, I– I just don’t want to be without you again.” You whispered back, your fingers slipping to cup his cheeks as you pecked his lips gently.
“You won’t, never again.” Steve said with certainty as you smiled against his lips, one of Steve’s favourite feelings in the whole world.
Both of Steve’s arms snaked around your back, holding you close as he lifted you from your feet to spin you around to the direction of your living room. Knowing Steve and his mind, you knew what he wanted next. The two of you worked together through your entwined bodies to walk backwards towards the couch.
“Now,” Steve mumbled against your upper lip, pulling back to take in the sight of you wrapped in his arms as your knees hit the back of your couch. “How ‘bout we spend the rest of our Sunday like the good old days, huh?”
A small, breathy laugh passed your lips as you nodded. And as you fell backward onto the couch with Steve hovering over you, when his body laid flat against your own, you felt a familiar press on your hip that made it definitely feel like the good old days.
And from that day on, you never ever spent a Sunday alone, ever again.
steve harrington x fem!reader
(18+; MDNI; 1.3k words)
A night out, a warm apartment, and a boyfriend who knows how to take care of you when you're drunk.
cw: reader is drunk, that's about it. steve is soft and in love
-> this was born from a conversation between @girlfailurearchivist and me so she's pretty much a co-author. everyone go say thank you frances because of her beautiful wonderful brain. frances ilysm ty for letting me write this <3
masterlist || divider/banner by @designlikenonsense || ao3 link
The first sign of you coming home doesn’t come with an announcement, but with the sound of the deadbolt turning.
Your giggles slip through the front door of your shared apartment, along with the sound of your friend’s voice desperately trying to quiet you down.
(It doesn’t work.)
Not that Steve’s surprised by any of this; You’d told him a few days ago that you were planning on having a girl’s night once the week ended. To let loose, you’d said. After a rough month at work.
And Steve—
He had only pressed a kiss to your forehead and tucked an extra twenty into your wallet when you weren’t looking, telling you to have a good time and reminding you to call if you needed a ride home from the bar.
Evidently, you hadn’t needed that ride.
Steve rounds the corner at the same time you manage to get the front door open, stumbling in as laughter peels from your lips. Your friend, clearly sober and unhappy with being the designated driver for the night, gives him a tight smile as he catches you under the arms.
“Fun night?” he asks lightly.
“Don’t even start,” your friend says with an aggrieved noise. “I still have two more drop offs, so I’m gonna go.”
“Fair enough,” Steve says. “Get home safe.”
She nods, and he’s left with an armful of you leaning heavily on him, smiling up like he’s the best thing you’ve seen all evening.
“My knight,” you say, sighing softly as you bring your hands up to his cheeks, squishing them as you drag him down towards your mouth. “Knight Steve, here to save the day…”
He doesn’t fight it. And though the taste of vodka on your lips isn’t the most pleasant thing in the world, he’s pretty sure there isn’t anything in the world that could ever stop him from wanting to kiss you.
“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says. He pulls back just enough that his nose brushes against your own. “Do you think you’re up for a shower tonight, or straight to bed?”
“Bed,” you say. “Too sleepy for a shower.”
He’s gentle as he leads you down the hall, careful to make sure you don’t tip over as you lean more and more of your weight into his side, and guides you into the bathroom. You grumble something incoherent, clearly unhappy with being here and not the bedroom, but he only circles your waist and lifts you onto the counter.
“I’ll be quick, honey,” he murmurs. “Promise.”
The Pond’s cold cream is easy enough to find — you keep the small pot right next to the faucet — and you soften under his touch as he rubs it into your skin, careful as he works the mascara from your lashes. You lean against the wall as he wets a washcloth. He pulls a washcloth from the drawer and wets it, and you giggle as he wipes the cream from your face until every last trace of makeup is gone.
He grabs your toothbrush and runs it under the faucet, shaking his head when you try to bury your face into his shirt.
“Open up, baby,” he says. “You’ll thank me tomorrow.”
You tilt your face up, giving him your most petulant look, but open your mouth without argument and let him scrub the night from your teeth.
He keeps you steady when you lean over to spit the paste out into the sink and, after a minute of searching, applies balm to your lips so they don’t dry out.
It takes a bit more time for him to locate your moisturizer (he’s watched you carry it around the apartment as you apply it to know that it never stays in one place) and you’re half asleep as he smooths it across your cheeks, paying careful attention when he uses his thumbs to rub your eye cream in under your eyes.
He combs your hair and applies your hair oil the way he’s seen you do a million times, wrapping it up once he’s done and, finally, helping ease you from the bathroom.
Across the hall, you sit on the edge of the bed as he searches through the dresser. You mumble something that he doesn’t understand, but when he turns to see you blanketed in the golden light from the lamp, he finds that he doesn’t quite mind.
I love you, every molecule in his body whispers as he makes his way back to you. I love you, his heart sings as he pulls your top over your head. I love you, I love you, I love you, his soul screams when he kneels down to drag your pajama pants up your legs.
You let out a giggle when he ties the drawstring, and it’s only then that he looks up. There’s an adorning smile on your face and you card your fingers through his hair, your voice soft when you breathe out, “You’re so handsome, Steve. I’m so lucky that you’re mine.”
He stands, his heart beating just a little bit faster, and he can’t stop himself from pressing a kiss against your temple.
(Not that he’ll ever tell you, but every compliment that falls from your lips, every confirmation that he’s enough — that he’s enough for you—)
(It means more than he can put into words.)
You whine for more when he pulls away, reaching out for another kiss, and he feels guilty when he pries your hands from his face.
“Later,” he promises. “Let’s get you into bed now, yeah?”
He’s careful when he tucks the covers around you, making sure to arrange the pillows around your head the way he knows that you like them. He glances down, and there’s something about the way your lashes frame your eyes that has him leaning down to brush his lips against your forehead before saying, “I’ll be right back, okay?”
You hum, eyes slipping shut, and he slips out of the room.
It’s second nature, really, to fill up a glass with water and rummage around for pain killers in the kitchen cabinet, the same way that arranging them on the bedside table so they’re within arms reach comes to him without thought.
(He’s spent so long trying to keep everyone around him safe and out of harm's way. He’s spent the longest nights of his life, bruised and bloodied and aching, vision blurry as he counted the heads of those he loves the most, making sure they were still there and still breathing—)
(Who knew that it would lead him here? In a warm home filled with love and laughter, one where the worst thing he has to fear is you having a hangover in the morning?)
He flicks the light off and slides into bed behind you, tugging you until your back is pressed to his front, and finally—
Something in his chest eases.
“Steve?”
Your voice is quiet, thick with sleep, and it takes a moment for him to even realize that you’d spoken. You turn in his arms, tracing your fingers down his chin as you meet his gaze
“What’s up, honey?” he asks.
“Love you,” you whisper, earnest in a way a person only is when drunk, like it’s very important for him to know this right in this moment.
He huffs out a laugh. “I love you, too.”
“You’re just…” You clumsily pat his face. “You’re so nice, and so good. Do you know how good you are? Always takin’ care of people, takin’ care of me… So nice. Even when I’m a bother.”
He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face anymore than he can stop himself from turning his head, kissing the pads of your fingers with a kind of reverence that feels sacrilegious.
“I’ll always take care of you,” he says, resolution laced into every syllable. “And you’re never a bother, baby.”
You sigh, clearly content, and bury your face into his shirt. “Will you still love me in the morning?”
summary: as things settle between you and keys, you decide to keep seeing each other in secret; but everything changes when millie overhears something she wasn't supposed to.
warnings: smut +18 mdni, cursing, kissing, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, oral female and male, cum, creampie, public sex, cheating, slight angst, happy ending.
wc: 7,9k
author's note: well i wasn't expecting so many people to ask for a part two, thank juana and blaize for bullying me to write it. here you go, i hope y'all stop hating keys now.
after that, you avoided him completely, and made everything in your power to stay away from him. you ignored his texts, changed your route to the cafeteria, and never looked in his direction during meetings. well, that only lasted a few days before he waited until everyone vacated the office, locked the both of you in a conference room, and made you listen to him.
it had been a long and exhausting conversation. you had been so furious, so deeply humiliated by the way he had left you in that basement, that you had even threatened to break out a window with an office chair if he didn't move away from the door and let you go. but, after the two of you finally calmed down and the screaming stopped, you reached an agreement of sorts.
“look, i don’t regret what happened, but i am so sorry for the way i handled things after,” keys said, sighing deeply as he rustled his hair. “and everything i said in that room was true. i mean it. i do only want you.”
“but i can’t just leave millie right now,” he continued, his voice rising slightly, “we are so close to finishing that project. if i break up with her now, it would make everything at the studio completely awkward. i can’t risk screwing the launch up. and also... god, i gotta think about my living arrangements, like, what am i even supposed to do? where do i go? our entire lives are-”
he started rambling, his hands gesturing in the air as he started to spiral with anxiety. you couldn't stand to hear him talk about his life with her anymore, so you stepped forward and shut him up with a kiss.
it was sharp and sudden, yet keys melted into it instantly, letting out a shaky breath against your mouth; then cupped your face with both of his hands.
he pulled back just an inch.
“i want you,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “but you have to give me some time to figure things out.”
he looked at you, his eyes pleading behind his glasses.
“please.”
“just till the project deadline,” he promised, his voice cracking slightly, “just give me until the launch, and i’ll end it. i swear.”
over the next few weeks, the avoidance stopped, and it was replaced by absolute secrecy. you became experts at reading each other's schedules and finding empty pockets of time in the building where nobody would look twice.
it was a quick, desperate kiss in the storage room, an accidental brush of hands in the hallway, or a quiet text telling you to meet him somewhere for a few minutes.
today it was another friday night stuck working late, a common occurrence as of lately; one of the few moments you could get just to yourselves without risking it too much.
you were sitting in your office chair, pointing at some lines of code on the screen, with keys leaning over your shoulder.
“come on, i don't see anything. i'm starting to think this was just an excuse to get me close,” he whispered softly against your ear, his warm breath sending a sharp shiver down your spine.
“can you be serious for once?” you rolled your eyes, biting your lower lip to stop yourself from smiling.
“you are right, as if i needed any excuse for that,” he added in a murmur, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.
he pulled back a bit, wrapped his large hands around the armrests of your chair, and spun you around to face him. he offered his hand to help you stand up, looking down at you. you raised an eyebrow in question, not moving yet.
“a short break?” he pouted, giving you a look that was entirely unfair, “pretty please.”
reluctantly, you stood up and took a step closer to him. wasting no time, he met you in the middle, guiding both of his hands to your waist and pulling you flush against his chest.
“you looked so hot today in that meeting,” he started trailing kisses on the side of your neck.
you tilted your head slightly, letting him have better access, your fingers coming up to gently tangle into the short hairs at the back of his neck.
it was an almost domestic moment, a glimpse into what a normal relationship with him could look like once the deadline finally arrived. he was still going home to her tonight, but for right now, in the quiet spaces of the office, he was completely yours.
you forced a small, smooth smile, as you looked past his shoulder at the dark windows of the office, the heavy weight of reality settled right back into your chest.
you hadn't been completely honest. during those few days of radio silence between the two of you, when the anger was still fresh, you had acted out of panic and self preservation, and spent those lonely nights sending out job applications, desperate for a clean break.
with things settling into this somehow comfortable routine, you had almost forgotten about it… until yesterday morning; when an offer from the rival company landed in your inbox.
it wasn't a regular job offer, it was a massive step up. a lead position with a bigger budget, more creative freedom, and a paycheck that made your jaw drop. it was exactly the kind of career jump you’d been grinding for years to get.
it also meant packing up your life, walking out of this building for good, and leaving keys behind. it was the perfect escape route, but now that he was actually begging you for time and promising you a future, that email felt more like a quiet expiration date on whatever this was.
you hadn't told him. you couldn't bring yourself to do it yet, not when he looked at you with that desperate, fragile hope in his eyes.
“what are you thinking about?” keys murmured against your skin, his voice thick with sleepiness as his grip on your waist tightened just a fraction.
your fingers sliding up to fix his glasses, “nothing,” you lied softly, looking into his dark eyes, “we should go back to work.”
he smiled, kissing your lips one last time before heading back to his chair, completely oblivious to the fact that the clock was ticking for both of you.
keys didn't hear you entering the room. he was too busy setting up his deskspace and getting everything ready for the conference he had in a few minutes. you couldn't help but stare at how cute he looked, furrowing his brows in deep concentration as he adjusted his glasses.
when he turned around to look for something in the back drawers, you took the opportunity. closing the door behind you, you silently sneaked behind him and whispered in his ear, “hi.”
he gave out a yelp, letting some folders drop to the ground. then he turned around with a look of pure indignation. “do you want to give me a heart attack?!”
you just let out a chuckle in response.
“what are you doing here anyways?” he said, looking over your shoulder towards the door. “millie and the rest of the team will be here any minute.”
“can't i just stop by to say hi?” you shrugged.
keys let out a sigh, walking back to the desk, and sat down in his rolling chair, trying to recapture his composure.
you walked toward him, stopping when you reached his side, and leaned against the edge of the desk, right next to his keyboard. your leg was inches away from his arm.
“you're distracting me,” keys muttered, though his eyes weren't on his monitor anymore. they were tracing the line of your collarbone, his fingers tapping anxiously against the armrest.
“you seem stressed,” you said, giving him a sympathetic look.
“well, i got to pitch this in less than half an hour and now you are here and it's not helping me focus you know,” he started ranting, leaning back in his chair as he ran his fingers through his hair. he sighed, looking up at you with a softened gaze. “i'm sorry... this isn't your fault.”
“well, if i'm distracting you that much i can go,” you said, pushing yourself off the edge of the desk. but instead of stepping away, you stepped right between his knees and gently turned his chair around to face you better. “or… i could help you out.”
“help me out how?” he asked, his body tensing slightly.
“to relieve some of that stress?”
“i don't think this is the right time for that-”
before he could even finish his sentence, you were already lowering yourself. you dropped down right between his open legs, resting your cheek against his covered thigh as you looked up at him through your lashes. “you sure about that?”
you could feel his entire body freeze beneath you, and when you dragged your gaze down, you saw the already thick bulge in his pants growing, straining against the heavy fabric. you bit your lip at the sight.
“anyone could walk in,” he gasped out, his voice coming out as a whisper.
“don't worry about that,” you murmured.
when he didn't protest again, you moved, settling yourself completely into the tight space under his desk. you sat back on your heels right between his thighs, completely hidden from the view of the door.
wasting no time, you reached for his belt and gently unbuckled it, the sharp click sounding incredibly loud in the quiet room. you leaned forward to press a warm kiss right against his erection through his pants, making him hitch his breath. with slow movements, you slid the zipper down and keys instinctively lifted his hips just a fraction, helping you pull down his pants and underwear just enough to completely free his length.
his dick was already fully hard, twitching slightly in the cool air of the office, your fingers wrapped around the thick base as you leaned in, your tongue tasting the sweet, salty drop of precum at the tip before sliding your lips over his head.
keys let out a hiss, his head slamming back against the headrest of his chair. his fingers instantly flew to your hair to anchor himself as your mouth tightened around him.
“god... fuck,” he whispered, his eyes closing tight behind his glasses as he tilted his hips up, guiding himself deeper into your throat.
you gripped his thighs for balance, pacing yourself into a steady rhythm that had him trembling within seconds. keys’ breath was coming in short gasps; every time he heard a distant footstep or the faint hum of the elevator down the hall, his grip on your hair would tighten, his whole body going stiff out of fear and pleasure.
“someone’s... someone’s coming down the corridor,” he choked out, his voice cracking with a terrifying rush of adrenaline.
you didn't stop. instead, you looked up at him, your lips still wrapped tightly around his length, and deliberately sucked harder. keys let out a broken, silent sob, his hips rolling helplessly against your mouth as he fought with every shred of sanity not to make a sound that would give you both away.
then, the sharp click of the doorknob echoed through the room.
keys froze entirely, his fingers locking into your hair with a white knuckled grip, forcing your head still. your heart caught into your throat, your breathing completely cutting off as the door swung open.
“keys? hey, are you almost ready? the board is waiting on the second floor.”
it was millie.
“uh- yeah! yeah, just... finishing up the last server deployment,” keys voice was a pitch higher than usual, cracking slightly as he tried to force a normal tone.
“are you okay? you look completely flushed,” millie asked, her footsteps moving a single step close. “is the AC not working again?”
“no! i mean, it’s fine,” keys blurted out, quickly rolling his chair forward, effectively trapping you even deeper and blocking any possible line of sight. “just a bit stressed about the pitch. you know how the board gets with this stuff.”
“well, don't overthink it, you’ve been working on this for months,” millie said with a soft chuckle, entirely oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend was currently exposed from the waist down, his erection twitching right against your cheek. “do you have the physical folders? the blue ones?”
keys’ eyes went wide behind his glasses. the blue folders were the exact ones he had dropped on the floor earlier, they were scattered right next to your knees, completely out of his reach.
and you weren't planning on making this easy for him.
instead of just handing them over, you wrapped your fingers tightly around his base and slowly slid your mouth back down his length, taking him all the way to the back of your throat.
keys let out a choked gasp, his legs twitching violently, while his hands slammed against the edge of the desk to keep himself from crying out.
“keys? did you hear me? the folders?” millie asked, her tone shifting into slight confusion at his sudden gasp.
“i- uh… yeah,” keys stammered, his voice straining hard as you swirled your tongue right around his tip again. his left hand dropped below the desk, his fingers frantically grabbing your shoulder, squeezing you in a silent, desperate plea to stop.
but you didn't. you sucked harder, your hand stroking his base, driving him absolutely insane.
“i think... i think i left them on the floor by the cabinet,” keys lied through his teeth, his breath hitching terribly. he forced his right hand to reach down blindly toward your side, his palm burning hot and damp with sweat as he tried to find the papers.
your fingers finally swept the scattered blue folders from the carpet, pressing them into his trembling hand. keys snatched them up instantly with a rough exhale. “got them. right here.”
“perfect,” millie said, her footsteps finally turning around toward the exit. “see you in the conference room in two minutes, babe. don't be late.”
the door clicked shut behind her.
the second the lock snapped into place, keys let out a groan, his legs completely giving out as his hips thrusted forward, burying himself deep inside your mouth. after a few more strokes, you pulled back a bit, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.
he looked down at you from his chair, his glasses slightly crooked, his chest heaving, “what the fuck is wrong with you?” he whispered, a mix of adrenaline and lust cracking his voice.
you just smirked, looking up at him from your spot between his knees. “oh, don't start. i could literally feel you leaking. don't act like you didn't enjoy that.”
he groaned, running a hand over his face, unable to deny a single thing. his hard length was still twitching right in front of your face, fully coated in your spit and still leaking precum. he cleared his throat, trying and failing to regain his composure as he glanced at the clock. “can you hurry? i need to get there in a minute.”
“sure,” you murmured. you leaned in and slowly licked the underside of his dick, from the base all the way to the sensitive head, making his hips jerk again. “i just need to hear something first.”
“hear what?” he choked out.
“admit i make you feel better than millie ever did.”
keys froze, his eyes widening behind his lenses. “what?”
“you heard me,” you challenged softly, your fingers gently wrapping around his shaft, “does she touch you like i do? does she make you feel like this?”
“i... i really need to get going,” he pleaded, his voice turning incredibly desperate as the clock ticked down.
you stopped stroking him, holding your hand perfectly still; you just stared up at him, waiting.
“fuck,” keys finally broke, his head dropping forward. “you... you are so much better, baby. she has nothing on you. millie has nothing on you. just please...”
“mhmm please what?”
“please… please let me cum.”
“good boy.”
finally satisfied you guided his thick length back into your mouth once again. you sucked him hard, while your hand kept pumping his base. it only took seconds. keys let out a muffled, choked sob into his hand as he spasmed and started spilling deep down your throat. you swallowed every single heavy drop of him, your throat squeezing around him until his final pulses faded.
slowly, you pulled out, a thin silver thread of saliva connecting your lips to his softening tip. keys was completely slumped in his chair, his eyes glazed over, lost in the haze of his orgasm.
he was too caught up in the afterglow to notice the quiet sound of footsteps returning down the corridor.
he didn't hear millie approaching back the office. she had realized on her way downstairs that keys had handed her the wrong folders in his panic.
she had come back to swap them, but she stopped dead in her tracks, pausing just outside the door when she distinctly heard her own name through the thin frame. and consequently, she heard everything after that. the unmistakable sounds of friction, keys' breathless confession, and the words that just ruined her entire world.
he had been quiet during dinner, picking at his food while millie sat across from him at the small dining table, her face an unreadable mask of calm. millie hadn't confronted him; she had simply handed him the correct folders before the meeting started and kept completely professional.
but the silence between them now was heavy. keys sat there, his mind stuck replaying what happened back at the office, he could still feel the ghost of your touch. it had been weeks since he had last touched millie, weeks since he had even looked at her body with any shred of desire. whenever she tried to lean in for a kiss lately, he’d find an excuse; a headache, an urgent text, a piece of code he needed to review. they were basically strangers sharing the same apartment.
“you're quiet tonight,” millie said casually, mindlessly scrolling through her phone with her free hand while pushing a piece of food around her plate. her tone was almost gentle, but there was something cold behind her eyes.
“just... exhausted from this whole day i guess,” keys murmured, keeping his eyes glued to his plate, desperately wanting this dinner to be over.
“by the way,” millie said, her voice cutting through quiet room, “i heard some interesting gossip before we left the building today.”
keys went entirely rigid in his chair, his heart doing a panicked flip in his chest. he slowly set his fork down, trying to keep his hands from trembling. “yeah? what about?”
“about your little friend from the QA department,” millie replied smoothly, not lifting her eyes from her phone. “apparently, she isn’t as dedicated to soonami as we thought. someone mentioned she applied for a position at our rival company weeks ago, and she even got an offer.”
the air completely left keys’ lungs. he stared blindly at the middle of the table, his mind running through a thousand thoughts at once. the rival company? a job offer? you hadn't said a single word about that to him. while he was about to throw away the entire life he had built with millie, while he was ready to risk everything for you... you were planning to run away from him.
“really?” keys managed to choke out, his chest feeling incredibly tight, “i... i didn't know that.”
“unbelievable, right?” millie let out a soft chuckle. she finally looked up, staring right at his face, a satisfied smirk cutting across her features as she watched his shoulders tense up. “to think she was pretending to be so loyal to the team, working those late friday nights with you... and all this time, she was just using us. using you.”
keys couldn't manage a response, the food suddenly felt stuck in his throat.
“people really are experts at playing double games, aren't they, babe?” millie murmured, followed by a sigh, “anyway, i'm going to head to bed. don't stay up too late.”
keys lay his head in his hands the moment she walked out of the room, his eyes stinging with tears of frustration.
then abruptly, he stood up and grabbed his jacket and his keys from the counter.
“mil!” he called out toward the bedroom, his voice tight, “i- i have to go back to the office… i need to check something about the servers, don't wait up for me.”
you were laying on your couch, wrapped in a blanket, when a sudden knock on your door made you jump. you checked the time; it was past midnight.
when you opened it, keys was standing in the hallway. his was hair slightly messy and his eyes behind his glasses looked completely exhausted.
“keys? what are you doing here?”
“i needed to see you,” he said, his voice flat, stepping past you into your apartment without waiting for an invitation.
“sure make yourself at home i guess,” you said, rolling your eyes and closing the door behind him.
he looked around the space, his body stiff, radiating a nervous energy.
“i um… i was just about to put on a movie, you can join if you want,” you offered, trying to break the awkward atmosphere.
keys hesitated, but then slowly walked over to the living room. he shed his jacket, throwing it over a chair, and sat down on the opposite end of the couch. as he settled into the cushions, his body still remained incredibly stiff.
you pulled your legs up onto the couch, grabbing the remote to find something to watch, but his silence was starting to make you nervous.
“keys?” you murmured, turning your head to look at him. “are you okay? what’s going on?”
he didn't answer, he was just staring at you. his eyes behind were intense, searching your features as if he were trying to figure something out.
worried, you shifted closer and reached out, gently placing your hand on his knee. “hey... talk to me.”
the moment your fingers touched him, keys tensed up even more, but he didn't pull away. instead; his hand shot out, his fingers locking around your wrist in a tight grip.
“do you actually want me here?” he asked, his voice incredibly quiet, but laced with a raw vulnerability.
“of course i do,” you said confused, “why would you even ask that?”
keys let out a dry laugh, “because sometimes i feel like if i close my eyes for a second, you’re just going to disappear.”
before you could even process the weight of his words, keys lunged forward. the weight of his body crowding you, pressing you flat against the cushions of the couch. he pinned your wrist above your head, his other hand slamming onto the back of the couch right next to it.
he leaned down, his face inches from yours, his hot breath over your lips.
“keys, stop, you're hurting me a little- what are you doing?”
“don't,” he whispered, his voice cracking, “don't. just... let me have this.”
in one sudden movement, he grabbed your thigh and hitched it up, forcing your leg over his hip right there on the couch. his rough palm gripped the waistband of your pants, tugging and sliding them down your hips with urgency. he shoved the fabric down to your knees, his fingers instantly heading past the lace of your underwear.
“what are you-”
without warning, he moved your panties to the side and simply shoved two fingers straight inside you.
you let out a sharp cry, the sound instantly muffled as keys slammed his mouth over yours. the kiss was brutal and desperate. he thrust his fingers deep inside you, his hand moving in a fast and heavy rhythm.
it was messy, his touch was heavier than usual, lacking any of his normal gentleness, as if he were trying to physically force you to stay right where he could feel you.
“fuck,” keys growled against your lips as you began to slick around his fingers, your body betraying you instantly under his harsh touch. he pulled his mouth away just enough to look down at you, his thumb moving to press against your clit with more force than needed, grinding against you with a heavy friction.
your head fell back against the couch, a broken sob slipping from your throat as your hands clutched desperately at the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as your body trembled.
“keys... please, it’s too much,” you whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand, trying to find relief.
keys stared down at you, refusing to slow down. he looked at your flushed face, your glazed eyes, and your parted lips. his jaw clenched, his expression darkening with a desperate possessiveness.
“open your mouth,” he commanded in a low whisper.
you complied instinctively, your lips parting wider as you desperately gasped for air. keys leaned down, hovering just inches above you. he pooled a bit of saliva in his mouth and let it drip directly onto your tongue.
before you could even swallow, keys slammed his mouth back over yours. the kiss was filthy, his tongue tracing yours tasting himself inside you, forcing you to take every bit of him.
at the same exact time, his fingers curled inside you, relentlessly striking your spot while his thumb kept digging with a heavy pressure against your swollen clit.
“keys-” you cried out into his mouth, your voice entirely muffled by his tongue.
everything at once was too much, an orgasm tore through you; your walls clamped down hard on his fingers, squeezing them tight, as your hips bucked helplessly.
keys growled, holding you firmly in place, his fingers kept moving, driving you through the waves of your climax until you were trembling and clinging to him, completely spent.
he slowly pulled his fingers out of you and guided them back to his mouth, sucking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours as he tasted you.
he let out a heavy breath, his fingers finally dropping from his lips. his face went completely blank, the storm inside him temporarily quieted by the sheer exhaustion of it all. he leaned down once again to give you a quick, soft kiss on your forehead.
“let’s go to bed,” he murmured, his voice thick and tired.
you slept heavily, completely exhausted by the emotional and physical toll of the evening; but in the dead of the night, a quiet rustling sound woke you.
the bedroom was pitch black, save for the weak light of the street filtering through the blinds. you blinked, shifting in the sheets, only to find the other side of the bed completely empty and cold.
you sat up, rubbing your eyes, and saw a shadow moving near the bedroom door.
it was keys, he was standing in the dark, quietly buttoning his shirt. he had already put his pants back on, and he was currently reaching for his watch.
“keys?” you whispered, your voice thick with sleep. “what are you doing?”
he froze, he didn't turn around to look at you. “i have to go,” he said, his voice cold. “millie will be waking up soon. i need to be back at the apartment before she notices.”
“now you care about what millie notices?” you said, sitting up fully and tossing the covers aside. you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. “you practically broke into my apartment, keys. you were acting like a lunatic, and now you’re just... putting your clothes back on and running back to her?”
“dont start,” keys muttered, his voice tightening as he buckled his watch. “i told you, i have a life to manage. i’m trying to keep things under control.”
“under control?!” you let out a dry, angry laugh, standing up. “you call tonight keeping things under control? you won't even look me in the eye right now. what is your problem?!”
keys snapped and spun around to face you
“my problem?!” he choked out, his voice cracking ,“i could ask you the same fucking question!”
you stepped back, stunned. “what are you talking about?”
“the job offer!” keys yelled, “where you ever going to tell me about that!?”
the silence that followed was deafening.
keys stared at you, tears of anger and betrayal finally spilling over his eyelashes, his breathing ragged. “you didn't tell me... you let me make promises, you let me drown in guilt… knowing you were counting the days to leave me.”
“keys, i can explain-” you started, taking a step toward him, your hand reaching out.
“don’t,” he whispered, stepping back to avoid your touch as if it burned him. “just... don’t say anything.”
he didn’t wait. he didn’t give you a single second to explain and practically ran out of your bedroom.
a moment later, the heavy sound of your front door slamming shut echoed through the quiet apartment, leaving you standing alone in the dark.
you tried calling and texting him, but there was no use; he was avoiding you at all cost. as if a switch had been flipped overnight, now he spent every day at the office glued to millie’s side, using her presence like a shield against you.
everytime you thought you had finally caught him off guard, waiting for a moment when he was by himself to corner him and talk, millie would show up a second later. you could swear sometimes she was even flashing you a knowing smile, but, there was no chance keys actually told her? right?
you tried to distract yourself by working; however, you finally reached your breaking point on the day of the launch. the whole team was gathered to celebrate the successful wrap up of the project. in the middle of the crowd keys briefly looked in your direction, and once he caught you staring back, sure that you were watching, he turned around and enveloped millie in a kiss that was definitely inappropriate for the workplace.
that night when you got home, you slammed your laptop open, pulled up the bookmarked email, and typed out a short reply to accept the offer.
the conversation after that with antwan hadn't been easy. apparently you were an important asset to the team and he fought hard to keep you, which meant he dragged you through another two weeks of tedious paperwork and formalities that were due to end your contract there.
you pushed through it and fourteen days later, you were finally boarding a flight to get away from everything.
you hadn't even looked for apartments yet, but the new company had set you up in a fancy hotel downtown for the first month. it was strange, being miles away from your old life, starting fresh in a room that barely fit all of your luggage, knowing that you were finally free of him.
back home, keys still had no clue you were gone. the timing was almost ironic; after the closing of the project, human resources had forced him to take a mandatory three weeks off to compensate for the absurd amount of overtime he had been putting in last month.
for him; being forced to spend that much time around millie in their shared apartment, still trying to play the part of a loving boyfriend, was eating him alive. he had ran out of excuses to avoid her touch, and the silence between them had become so lo loud it just felt like they were walking on eggshells around each other.
by the third week, he couldn't do it anymore. one evening, over another quiet dinner, keys finally broke, he sat her down and told her it was over. he didn't mention you, and millie didn't cry; she just gave him that unreadable face she’d been wearing for weeks, packed her bags, and left him alone.
keys felt as if a weight had been lifted off him.
he was ready to swallow his pride, apologize, and tell you that it was finally over with her.
on monday morning, keys walked into the soonami office for the first time in nearly a month. his heart was hammering against his ribs with anxiety as he headed straight towards your desk, his mind rehearsing exactly what he was going to say to you. he had stayed up all night coming up with a speech, but when he finally reached your desk, he froze.
it was empty.
the whole set-up, the photos, the sticky notes, all gone. the desk was barren, completely cleared out of your presence.
“looking for someone?”
he spun around to find antwan standing behind him.
“why is it all empty?” keys asked, furrowing his eyebrows, “did she get moved to a different floor?”
antwan let out a heavy sigh, looking at keys with a mix of confusion and pity. “i take it you haven't heard the news yet.”
“what news?” a wave of panic flooded his chest.
“keys, she resigned three weeks ago, right after the launch party. she took a senior position out of state.”
keys felt his entire world collapse, his vision blurring behind his glasses. out of state… three weeks ago… you had taken that stupid position.
“where?” keys choked out, grabbing the edge of the empty desk to keep himself straight. “antwan, please. where did they go?”
“i can’t give out personal employee data, keys, you know how it is-”
“antwan, please!” keys yelled, his voice so loud that a few employees around him turned to stare. “just... just tell me. please.”
it was pouring raining outside. you were sitting on the edge of the bed, setting up your new work laptop, surrounded by half unpacked bags; when a heavy knock rattled against your hotel room door.
you frowned, setting your laptop aside, who could it be? you hadn't ordered any room service. you stood up fixing your pajamas, headed to the door and when you finally opened it, your heart stopped.
keys was standing in the hallway. his clothes were soaked, his hair plastered to his forehead, and his glasses covered in raindrops. he looked a complete mess, his chest heaving as if he had run all the way there.
you stood frozen, your mouth opening as if to say something but no words would come out, was he really here? this couldn't be right, maybe you fell asleep and this was some fucked up dream from your subconscious.
he stared at you through the open doorway, his lips trembling from the cold of the storm outside. the silence between you stretched, and after a long minute of just staring at each other, you finally broke the silence.
“keys?”
“you left,” he whispered.
“you shouldn't be here, how did you even-”
“you left me,” he repeated, his voice cracking
you swallowed hard, your brain still unable to fully process what was happening.
“i think you should go, keys,” you forced yourself to say.
keys completely ignored your demand, moving past you and stepping into the room. the place seemed even smaller now with his presence added to the already crowding room, making everything feel more suffocating.
“you are soaking the entire carpet,” you groaned in frustration, shutting the door behind him.
“that's all you have to say to me?” he scoffed, letting out a bitter laugh.
“what else am i supposed to say when you are dripping water all over my room?!”
“i don't know!” keys snarled, raising his hands in exasperation, throwing a few droplets of water into the air. “maybe something like... addressing the fact that you packed up your entire life and moved states without even telling me?!”
“no. no way,” you snapped, your own anger flaring up, “you have absolutely no right to demand any explanations from me. if you don't recall, you were the one who ran out of my bedroom, and you were the one avoiding me for weeks!”
“so that justifies moving miles away from me without a single word? not even a text?!” he took a step closer, his face twisting into a mocking one as he got his phone out of his pocket, his fingers mimicking the movement of typing in the screen “oh, hey keys, just a heads up, i’m moving to the other side of the country!” he made a choked out sound, “oh my god you are right its physically impossible to say it!”
you paused for a second, closing your eyes tightly and trying your absolute best not to strangle him as you struggled to collect your thoughts.
“did you seriously just buy a flight all the way here just to throw things in my face or…”
“oh, my god, you can't seriously be this thick,” keys breathed out, his sarcasm fading completely.
you frowned in answer, crossing your arms over your chest.
“the second antwan told me you were gone... i ran,” keys confessed, his shoulders slumped, “i didn't even think. i just ran to book the first flight out, because the sheer thought of losing you for good... of you being in a different city and never seeing you again... it made me physically sick.”
you froze, your arms slowly loosening as his words hit you.
keys took a long sigh, trying to gather up whatever courage he had left.
“when he told me... i was trying to find you, because i wanted to talk things out with you, and-”
suddenly, you broke out laughing, a humorless sound out of disbelief.
“talk things out? you wanna talk things out now?!” you shook your head, “oh, we are way past that, keys! you don't get to do this. you can't keep using me, ditching me, and then just coming back feeling sorry whenever it pleases you! there is no room left to talk anything out. whatever this was... it's over.”
“please,” keys pleaded, his eyes filling with tears, “please, just let me talk. listen to me for one second-”
“get out keys, or i swear to god i’ll start screaming for help right now!”
“i broke up with millie!” he spit out.
your shoulders dropped instantly, “what?”
“i broke up with her,” he repeated, a tear finally falling, “it's done, it's completely over between us. that's why i was looking for you at the office this morning... to tell you.”
the words seemed to hang in the air of the hotel room, shattering what was left of your anger. before you could even form a coherent thought, keys stepped closer, closing the remaining distance between you.
he brought his hands to your face, cupping your cheek, his still cold and freezing palms made you shiver against him. every logical part of your brain screamed at you to pull away, to push him and kick him out into the hallway once again. but looking up at the way his eyes were searching yours in such a pleading way, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.
instead; you close the gap between the both you, gripping his wet jacket tightly as your lips finally connect with his. the kiss starts slow and hesitant, like you are both afraid that if you rush it, whatever fragile thing left between you would break.
when keys realizes you aren't fighting him anymore, he brings your body closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist, not caring about his damp clothes soaking through your own.
he presses you tightly against his chest, deepening the kiss with a sudden hunger that tells you exactly how much he has been missing you. slowly he brings his hands from your waist to the back of your thighs, lifting you just enough for you to wrap your legs around him. he takes a few steps back until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed.
he tumbles down onto the bed bringing your body with his, not letting you go for a single second. his hands start trailing under your shirt, his fingers digging into the bare skin of your waist; holding you pinned against his chest, he breaks the kiss just enough to trail his lips down your jawline.
“god, i missed you,” his hot breath over the sensitive skin of your neck.
the wet clothes sticking to him did nothing to hide the growing bulge beneath you, you shifted in his lap pressing against it, making keys let out a shaky breath. you pushed the jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall somewhere in the already messy floor, then proceeded to take his shirt off in one go.
keys shivered as the cool air made contact with his chest, you couldn't help but run a hand over the faint hairs that seem even more dark in the dampness of his skin. while you were distracted taking in the view, his hands moved to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head. his dark eyes tracking every inch of your skin as if he’s trying to convince himself that you’re actually real.
you looked down at him, your hands still resting on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under your palm. his glasses slightly crooked and his eyes glossy.
not wasting a second, he manhandled you so you were laying on your back, him hovering above you. he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pajama pants, sliding them down your thighs along with your underwear.
he parted your legs open, sliding between them and settling onto his knees; his large palms started to make his way up the inside of your thighs, spreading them even wider.
“keys…” you whispered, starting to get frustrated at his teasing.
he didn't say anything in response. he just leaned down, feeling his warm breath as his lips gently pressed against your inner thigh; you shivered, your fingers gripping to the sheets beneath you. he took his time kissing his way up, until his nose brushed against your center.
keys let out an exhale on purpose, making your hips hitch off the mattress. he took a second to drag his nose all the way through your folds before his tongue finally made contact, licking slowly from top to bottom. a gasp tore through you as keys buried his face even deeper between your legs.
slow and steady, he used his hands to hold your hips in place, his thumbs gently spreading you open as his tongue flattened against your clit, swirling over it with a firm pressure. he hummed softly against you at the taste of your arousal and your body pulsing under his mouth.
“keys, please...” you whimpered, your hands reaching down to grab onto his damp hair and bring him closer.
he flicked his tongue over your clit one last time before pulling back just enough to look at you with his chin shining, his eyes looking on yours.
then without breaking eye contact, keys sat back on his heels. his hands worked at the button of his pants, unzipping slowly. he moved from his position for a second to kick his pants off, freeing his thick length, already slick at the tip.
he crawled back up over you, resting the weight of his body on his forearms, each on either side of your head. he lined himself up at your entrance, the head of his dick rubbing against your soaked folds. he reached up, his large, warm hand gently cupping your jaw, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.
“i’m never letting you go again,” he murmured, pushing forward and slowly sinking into you.
a cry escaped your lips as your walls stretched to accommodate his large size. keys closed his eyes letting a groan and burying himself all the way in. he stayed still for a long moment, letting you adjust to him, his forehead resting against yours.
with a slow and deep rhythm, keys began to roll his hips, pulling nearly all the way out before plunging deep back inside, the sheer relief of being completely filled by him again made tears prick at the corners of your eyes.
your hands slid up his back, your nails digging into his shoulders to anchor yourself. you closed yourself as pleasure began to build.
“look at me,” keys rasped.
he lifted his head slightly, his eyes locking onto yours and his chest heaving as he stared down at you like you were something delicate. he brought back his mouth to yours, trailing sloppy kisses along your jaw and neck, muttering apologies between each touch.
“im sorry, im sorry baby,” he murmured against your skin.
too dizzy to formulate a response, your hips started bucking off the bed to meet his thrusts. keys let out a whine at the sudden movement, reached down, his fingers sliding between your bodies to press against your clit, his thumb moving in circles right where you needed it.
a few moments later and that was all it took, the combination of everything sent you over the edge. your walls squeezed him tightly, crying out his name and your head tossed back against the pillows as the orgasm shattered through you.
the feeling of you tightening around him made keys choke out a moan, he buried his face into the crook of your neck and buried himself as deep as he could one last time. he stayed there trembling slightly as he came, spilling his hot release inside you.
he stayed on top of you for a long time, his heavy breathing matching yours. slowly, keys started to soften inside you, but he made no move to pull away; he shifted his weight to the side, pulling you closer against his bare chest and wrapping his arms tightly around you.
silence invaded the room, broken only with the quiet patter of rain against the window. keys pulled the covers up to your shoulders, tucking you in against him, then he reached up gently pushing a few stray strands of hair away from your forehead.
“i’m not going back,” he said softly.
you shifted slightly in his arms, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him.
“what do you mean?” you asked.
“the office, my old apartment, everything,” keys replied, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jawline, “i resigned before i boarded the plane.”
your breath hitched in your throat. “keys... you gave up your position?”
“i almost lost you,” he said, his gaze locking onto yours, “a position at soonami doesn't mean anything if i don't get to see you everyday… i want to stay here with you... if you'll still have me.”
you stared at him for a long moment, then a small smile finally tugged at your lips; you reached up, trailing your fingers over his messy hair.
“you’re an idiot, you know that?” you whispered softly.
keys let out a quiet laugh and leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.
“yeah,” he murmured against your skin, pulling you even tighter against his chest, “but i guess you are stuck with me now. go to sleep, baby. i’m not going anywhere.”
summary: gator tries his best to make up for making you upset, and you do your best to drag it out.
tags: gator is bad with emotions and pitiful and pathetic (whats new), reader is sensitive, reader has gator on a leash pretty much, lowkey ooc gator but shhh, briefly proofread
wc: 3.3k (got carried away whoops)
This was ridiculous. All because of stupid argument. Not even an argument.
All because of Gators stupid self saying something stupid just because he was frustrated after work.
And now being alone and being ignored for hours has Gator parking on the sidewalk outside your house at midnight.
He found out early on that even though you were shy, you got snappy too. You got mouthy with him, you had an attitude at times.
But he’d expect at least a goodnight text, no matter how annoyed you’d get with him in the past, you’d always send some sort of little text to remind him you were there, and that you were still upset.
Tonight, he got nothing. No call, no text, not even a little emoji, nothing.
You had argued somewhere after the dinner rush. He got back from cleaning up his dads dirty work and being scolded for not doing good enough for him.
Right after being chewed out by his father, he stopped by the little bakery where you work, as he always does after his shifts.
And he promised. You hadn’t seen him in a few days due to him being ordered to run around doing whatever the hell he did, you didn’t like to think about it. He promised he’d make sure to see you today.
So, of course when he texted you as soon as you got on your lunch break saying he was outside, you rushed your way out, abandoning the rest of your chips and sandwich just to see him.
You hopped in his truck and immediately crossed over the center console, sitting in his lap and wrapping yourself around him.
He hugged you back, but his arms were tight and tense around you.
“I missed you.” You smiled into his neck, pressing little kisses against his neck to his jaw to his lips. You continued all over his face, his lips were weak and loose when he kissed you back.
“Baby- hold on, hey.” He said as nicely as he could, he turned his face away and held your wrists. “Can you calm down with the touchiness?”
“What?” You mumbled.
“Baby- don’t get me wrong, It’s nice and stuff, but you’re doin’ a lot right now, like goddamn just give me a minute to fuckin breathe.” He muttered, wiping a hand over his face.
Then he saw the way your face fell, that crease form between your eyebrows, the way you gulped and clenched your jaw. You pulled away slowly.
You slid off his lap and back into the passenger seat quietly. It took a few seconds of sitting in silence and staring ahead before he heard the car door open.
“My lunch break is almost over, I should go back.” You muttered the lie as you hopped out, slamming the door shut before he could get a response out.
Now, the only light outside is the streetlamps, and Gators phone is still void of any texts from you while he decides what to do.
He sighs, both your parents' cars are in the driveway. From what it looks like from the windows, every light is off in the house.
Except for the small rectangle of warm light on the side of the house, where your room is.
If Gator wasn’t so pissed off right now, he’d feel like a teenager again as he sneaks out to the side of the house, rapping his knuckles lightly on the window.
He can see that your door is closed, the doorknob is locked, you are nowhere to be seen in your room, and there is a small slither of your window left open with no screen on it.
He really should have never taught you how to take the screen off your window.
But now he’s worried, not panicking, he doesn’t panic. He just doesn’t like the idea of you being out this late at night by yourself. You already nearly made him pass out the other week with the spider.
Gator only clenches his fists and stomps as he mutters out curses. He whips out his phone and starts sending even more pathetically apologetic texts to you.
He’s on his second attempt of calling you by the time he’s back in his truck seat. He’s bouncing his leg enough to the point the vehicle is slightly shaking along with the movement.
Your voice appears but it’s only your voicemail telling the caller to “leave a message and I’ll try to get back to you soon!”. And you sound so fucking sweet in it, it’s killing Gator.
The slicked back style of Gators hair has been long destroyed by now with the amount of times he’s ran his hands through it and his excessive stomping. The next best thing he can do is try and find you himself, he is not waiting.
The truck pulls off the sidewalk and he keeps his foot on the pedal with enough weight for him to be going at a slow but tolerable pace, he’s impatient. He’s worried, but he doesn’t like to say that. It makes him feel like he’s saying he’s scared, which he is, but it makes him feel weak.
You couldn’t have gone far? It’s a small neighborhood. You’re probably just walking somewhere farther down the sidewalk? Maybe you were walking the other way when he was coming down your street?
He’s nearing the end of the street and he’s on the verge of smacking his horn, but a few more feet and you’ve appeared.
You’re at the playground that got built not too long ago at the end of your neighborhood, you’re sitting on the swingset. You’re in an old hoodie and pajama pants, your using the toe of your sandal to sway yourself back and forth.
Gators headlights practically blind you as you look up. He can see you squint, recognize it’s him, then grimace and look away.
He doesn’t even try to attempt to park nicely in between the freshly painted white lines. His truck is slanted and taking up three parking spaces.
You’re still swaying, you know Gator is walking up but you keep your eyes on the ground. Keeping that pouty look while you let your head lean against the chain on the swing.
Gator sighs and slides his hands into his pockets, he’s doing his own swaying now too.
Goddamn, he feels like a piece of shit.
“Planning a getaway?” He tries to joke. It falls flat.
“‘M not talking to you, Gator.” You mumble.
You didn’t mean to be so sensitive, you were just excited to see him. Gator is still getting used to physical touch being a good thing. Your hands have been the first to feel like his skin isn’t stinging when you touch his.
“Yeah. I kinda..noticed that.” He sighed. For the first time in awhile, Gator has no smart comebacks.
“Thought you wanted space. Thought you wanted to be alone.” Your eyes are burning holes into playground dirt, digging the sole of your old closed toe sandal into the woodchips.
“I wanted to say…that ‘m sorry.” He winces, it sounds pained. He doesn’t apologize much. “Sorry” is a word that’s becoming more common in vocabulary now that he’s met you.
God, you hate him. You’re considering taking your shoe off and throwing it at him.
You’re considering telling him to leave. But you won’t. You don’t want him to.
You’ll torture him a bit more.
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry.” He says clearly. Pitfully, pathetically.
“I heard you.” You finally look up at him, your pink and slightly puffy eyes feel like a million tiny daggers into his body.
“So…you’ve got nothing to say about that? Nothing to say back?” He sticks his neck out. You roll your eyes and look away. You’re not looking at Gator, it’s making him ache.
“What is there to say? I heard you.” You shrug, pursing your lips together.
Gator sighs again, sliding his hands out of his pockets and pressing them against his back. He lets out a little groan as he stretches, he’s torturing you now.
“I guess you won’t be gettin’ my apology gift then.” He shrugs.
He catches the way your eyes shoot up. You’re a sucker for gift giving. Giving and receiving. Though you don’t get the latter much often from others.
Gator does his best to make up for it.
“Guess I’ll just return it, I got the receipt somewhere in my glovebox.” He shrugged. “It’ll just go back on the shelf and some other sorry boyfriend will buy it.” He sighs, kicking a few rocks. He’s putting on the most dramatic act to win you over.
And it’s working. God, you hate him.
He turns slowly and walks back to his truck, he can feel your eyes on him. He turns on the engine, but he’s not moving anywhere. He’s counting down.
Waiting for it.
It takes a little over 30 seconds. And then there’s the light knocking on his passenger window. Your silent way of asking to be let in. You can’t help but be polite.
He reaches over to push the door open, letting you see the surprise sitting on the passenger seat.
It’s a teddy bear with a little bow wrapped around it’s neck, as well as a fake flower that you can slip from its arms. There’s two party sized bags of your favorite candy along with it.
Worst of all, he’s buckled the bear in. The seatbelt is fastened right around its stomach and over its shoulder.
You almost smile, you have to fight it, really fight it.
Yeah, he’s won you over. But you won’t let him know what yet.
Gator’s got one hand on the steering wheel, clenching and unclenching. His bottom lip is tucked under his teeth. He’s nervous.
You purse your lips and clench your jaw, tilting your chin up as you inhale.
You unbuckle the seatbelt and grab the bear from it’s spot, you hold it in your hands and stare at it like you’re analyzing it. You’re pretending to decide how you feel.
The poor teddy's little beady eyes are staring right back at you. You swallow your pride happily.
Gator’s already moving the bags of candy out the way so you can sit. His eyes stay on you while you hop into the seat. You shut the door and keep your eyes on the bear.
Gator tilts his head, he’s trying to look at you, get you to look at him. You rub one of the bear ears between your thumb and pointer finger, the fur is soft and a little silky against your skin.
“I’m still mad at you.” You let him know sternly, you still haven’t smiled yet.
“I know.” He sighs. He lets his hand fall from the steering wheel.
He grabs the bar under his seat and pushes his seat back, all the way back.
“C’mere.” He murmurs, laying slack against the seat. His hands lay flat on his thighs.
You slouch down into your seat and look at the side mirror, pretending to ignore him.
“Don’t make me ask you again.” Yet there’s no demand in his tone. But fuck, he’s worried he’s being mean again.
“You’re not even asking me. You’re just telling me.” You grumble.
But you go and you sit in his lap anyways, leaving the bear back on your seat and crawling over the center console to get to him. Lips jutted and eyes looking down and away from his face. You can see the cocky little smile blooming at the ends of his mouth in your peripheral vision.
“You’re so pouty.” Gator squishes your face between his fingers while his other hand lays against your waist.
The thing that’s changed in your personality now that you’ve gotten more comfortable with Gator. You pout a lot, you’re sensitive, you’re still quite shy. Just pouty too. Gator brought out the mouthy side of you that’s been hidden for years.
And Gator takes any chance he can to tease you for it. Because he’s Gator.
“I’m not pouty.” You grimace.
“Yea? Then what’s all this about?” He squishes your cheeks more and shakes your face lightly in his grasp.
“You.” Now you’re getting annoyed. You shove his hand away and move your head back. Your face seems to be stuck in a scowl.
Gators face slowly drops, he feels like an asshole again.
“Hey.” He says as softly as he knows how to, “Hey, ‘m not mad at ya.” The hand that you shoved away comes up to rub at your upper arm. Your fiddling with his hoodie strings, eyes focused on the way the gray cords of fabric twirl around your fingers.
Gator runs his hand down your arm and stops at your hand. He takes it into his, the rough pad of his thumb skates over your knuckles. He tilts his head down again, trying to get you to look at him. You give in.
Your eyes meet his and you swear you can see his face soften with relief.
“Look, ‘m pretty pissed you snuck off this late in the cold in this lil pair of shorts.” He mumbles as he tugs at the hem of your pajama shorts with his other hand, rubs at the fabric. “But ‘m not mad at you.”
A little sigh leaves you, you’re not sure how to respond. So he takes his chance to keep talking.
“Baby, I love you touchin’ me. I love your hands on me, all over me.” He takes your hands in his and presses them against his chest. You can feel the rump of his heartbeat under your palm when you press. “I love you touchin’ on me, yeah?” He brings up one of your hands to his lips, he presses kisses over your fingers, your palm, your knuckles, your wrist.
He’s really trying to make it up to you.
“I didn’t mean to make you upset. I just- I had a shit day, I’ve been surrounded by asshole and fuckin idiots and- I was pissed off and I should’ve let myself cool down real quick before I saw you,” He’s rambling, this is new. “I should’ve told you I was pissed off and I could’ve- I should’ve been nicer ‘bout it. Should’ve been nicer to you.” His eyes are wandering all over as he fumbles through his words, looking everywhere but your face.
He takes a breath to swallow his own stubbornness.
“And I’m sorry, baby.” He squeezes his eyes shut and hangs his head a bit.
Good fucking god, he’s embarrassed. He can feel you looking at him and he wishes you weren’t, at least not in this moment. He can’t let you see him like this.
When he opens his eyes, you look away again. You’re biting the inside of your cheek.
“C’mon baby.” He murmurs, cradling his hand against your face, giving it a little push of encouragement to get you to turn your face to his. “I’m sorry.” You still avoid his eyes, he knows you’re waiting for more, you’re making him beg. This is a humiliation ritual for Gator.
He gets an idea and reaches over to the passengers seat where your new bear lays.
“Gator’s sorry, yeah?” He picks up the bear, brushes the face of it against yours. The fake fur tickles your nose. Your face spreads into a meek smile. “You gonna forgive Gator? Gonna stop torturing him?” He keeps pressing it against your cheek until you can’t hold back and let out a little giggle.
You grab the bear and he takes his chance to press a kiss against your cheek while you’re occupied.
“Fine, fine.” You say through another giggle, Gator could faint at hearing your voice again. “I’m done torturing you. For now.”
“Good.” He smiles. “You can get fussy with me all you want, I deserve that, but don’t go running off ‘cus of it.” He holds your chin gently, tilting your face down to give you a kiss to your forehead, the tip of your nose, then your lips.
You just smile and kiss him back before you wrap your arms around his neck, you smush yourself against him.
“I’m sorry you had a bad day.” You speak into his shoulder.
“You don’t gotta apologize, ‘s nothing. You made it better.” He feels like a cornball saying that outloud, but he can feel you smile against him, so it’s not too bad.
The two of you stay like that for a little while. Gator strokes his hand up and down your back while pressing little kisses to your neck here and there. Your shoulders loosen after some time, your chest rises and falls more slowly against his.
“You falling asleep on me?” He nudges you.
You absolutely are.
“Mm-mm.” You give him a lazy shake of your head.
Gator pulls you away from him like he’s trying to take tape off a piece of paper without ripping it. Once he gets a look at your lidded eyes and pouty lips, he knows you’re about to knock out.
“Alright, time to go home.” He rubs his thumb against your cheek and you groan.
“Why can’t I just stay with you?” You whine.
Last time you fell asleep in his car, smushed against him, your neck hurt the rest of the following day.
“Next time.” He promises with a kiss to your lips. “Gotta get back to the ranch.” He holds onto your waist as you slip off his lap and onto the passenger seat, he’s pretending to guide you, he really just wants to hold you.
“I thought you were patrolling?” You yawn, leaning your head on his shoulder.
“Only to find you.” He kisses the top of your head before turning on the engine. You smile to yourself.
Once he’s parked outside your house again, he walks you to your window and lifts you just a little bit so you can sneak back in through your window.
“Get your little sneaky ass back in there.” He gives you a small swat to your ass and he can hear the little giggle you try to hide.
He passes you the two bags of candy he bought for you, you already carried your bear with you crawling through your window.
Gator finishes off giving you his gifts by leaning in and pressing one last kiss for the night to your lips, he lingers.
You’re just about to say goodnight and close your window when he stops you.
“Uh uh, screen back on the window.” He tells you with that stupid cocky grin. You roll your eyes but you listen anyway, you pick up the window screen from where it’s laying against your wall and shove it back into the windowsill.
It’s annoying having to look at each other through the thin grid, you feel like some princess locked in a tower.
“I better not see you running around this late again.” He's still got that stupid grin on his face. He shoots a wink at you before walking away from your window.
“Uh huh. Later Gator.” You say with a sweet sweet smile, you know it pisses him off.
And before he can fully turn around, you’re shutting your window and closing your blinds. You laugh behind your hand, you love torturing him.
Gator drives back to the ranch in silence. He yawns and runs his hand down his face to his neck, rubs at it.
He wishes he crawled through the window with you, wrapped his arms around you and stayed in your bed for the night. Feel your arms tucked around him and legs lay over his under the covers, feel your hands twitch the way they always do and listen to the little breaths you always make when you’re asleep.
summary: Steve swears it’s genetics, but one cannot grow muscles overnight. Not unless they’re on steroids, right? Well, you, Dustin, and Eddie are determined to find out. Together, you come up with a list of ridiculous tests to put your boyfriend through, all in the name of uncovering the truth. What you didn’t expect, however, was for those tests to uncover something else entirely. And for Steve to remind you why the two of you had been falling apart lately.
Heavily inspired by Purple & Cigarette Smoke by Olivia Rodrigo.
warnings: Short smut, p in v, dirty talking, profanity, lots of angst, mean Steve, miscommunication, and cheating accusations. Not edited yet. Minors do not read!
"I HAVE A QUESTION?"
You raised your hand, sinking back into the cushions and stretching your legs out in front of you.
"It's not about Spider-Bug," You clarified, watching Dustin’s face light up at your supposed interest, only for it to immediately twist into a scowl. "It's about privacy rights and civil lawsuits."
“First of all, his name is Spider-Man, not Spider-Bug,” Dustin scoffed, raising a finger matter-of-factly. “Second of all, spiders aren’t bugs, so, stop getting them mixed up. And third, none of this violates anyone’s privacy rights because they were all taken in public. Therefore, I can’t get sued.”
"Right..." you muttered out of the corner of your mouth, glancing past the boy to the bulletin board behind him. "Because all of this is normal?"
The board was covered in newspaper clippings and photographs, countless shots taken of different men, ranging in age from their twenties to their early thirties. All of whom Dustin had, at one point or another, suspected of being the masked vigilante.
"Sweetheart, it's all in the name of public safety," Eddie chimed in beside you, flashing a lopsided grin. He was wearing a T-shirt with "Spidey Hunters Club" printed on the front. "If you think about it, we're doing New York a favor."
"I don't think about it because I'm not a creep."
"Caring about public safety does not make you a creep!" Eddie shot back, straightening up and jabbing a finger at your face. "You seriously need to stop throwing that word around so casually."
You narrowed your eyes at him. "Is this because I called you a creep at Hot Topic the other day and the security guard threw you out of the mall?"
"You got me banned!" Eddie shot back. "All because I said low-rise jeans should make a comeback."
"Ah, there you go again," You clicked your tongue, gesturing toward him with an open palm. "Talking about belly buttons and butt cracks like a creep."
"They have a picture of me on the window!"
"Both of you shut up!" Dustin yelled, silencing you both. "We're not here to discuss what happened at the mall the other day," he continued, marching over to Eddie and planting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We're gathered here today because, after all these years...I finally know who Spider-Man is."
"Uh-huh." You looked between Dustin and Eddie for a second, unimpressed. "Actually, I’m here because your mommy paid me to babysit you for..." You glanced at the clock on the wall. "Five hours."
"I'm twenty. I don't need a babysitter."
"That’s not what your mom said, Dustin-Hun-Buns.”
"Stop calling me that!"
"Alright, everyone calm down before I get angry." Eddie suddenly stood, holding both hands out between you and Dustin in a peacekeeping gesture.
You both paused to stare at him blankly.
"...Sorry."
"Anyway, let's cut the chase," Dustin clasped his hands together before returning to the board. With a theatrical gesture, he removed a newspaper clipping that was covering one of the photographs. "Ladies and gentlemen, our Spider-Man is..."
"Steve?" You and Eddie exclaimed in unison.
"Yes!" Dustin burst out, grinning from ear to ear.
You blinked. “No—”
“Just think about it for a second!” Dustin interrupted you. “Have you noticed Spider-Man follows us everywhere we go? For example, that one time we visited Hawkins and you almost got attacked by those bats, remember? Yeah, Spider-Man was there,” You and Eddie nodded along. You supposed that was a weird coincidence.
“Then that other time when we traveled to California and you almost got hit by a taco truck? He showed up there too. So, it has to be one of us, and the only logical answer is Steve!”
“Steve’s not Spider-Man,” You argued, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s impossible.”
“But it’s not!” Dustin countered, pointing at the evidence behind him. “When was the last time you saw Steve play basketball or hit the gym?”
You fell quiet, genuinely thinking about it.
“Never!” Dustin threw his hands in the air. “Because he doesn’t work out. So how is he so big?”
“Oh.” Eddie frowned as you wandered over to the board for a closer look. “I thought we’d all just agreed he started doing steroids one day.”
“Steve doesn’t like talking about that,” You replied, squinting as you compared your boyfriend’s picture to Spider-Man’s. Side by side, you couldn’t help but notice how similar their physiques were. “He says it messes with his self-esteem and makes him cry.”
“Because he’s lying!” Dustin was quick to accuse. “That’s just a rumor Robin spread around to get us off his back, and we believed her.”
“I mean, it does make sense why he’d turn to drugs though,” Eddie mumbled, his gaze drifting blankly toward the wall. “We all know how badly Billy beat him up that one time in high school. And then there’s all those unresolved issues he’s got with his parents. He probably hates himself for it…”
“Okay, forget about that for a second,” Dustin cleared his throat, clearly annoyed. “How do you explain his quick reflexes, huh? Steve literally caught a moving drone with one hand the other day at the park. He didn’t even look up once.”
“Okay, this is crazy.” You’d finally heard enough. “Steve’s not Spider-Man. Trust me, I’d know.”
“Oh, really?” Dustin challenged.
You narrowed your eyes. “Uh-huh, really.”
“Okay, then. I’m sure he hasn’t been acting weird lately then,” Dustin began, and you immediately tensed. He knew exactly what he was doing. “And I’m sure he’s never late to your dates. Or that he never sneaks out at night to do God knows what. I’m also sure you don’t have to chase him down for answers you know he’ll never give you.”
“Right,” you replied, forcing the word out.
“Ouch.” Eddie whispered into the awkward silence.
You threw him a glare.
Dustin grinned, satisfied he’d hit a nerve. “But you know, we could always test the theory, just in case.”
You didn’t answer for a while. The greater part of you, the logical and mature side, knew this was all ridiculous. A figment of a twenty-year-old’s imagination. But there was another part of you—the part that always stayed up late waiting for Steve to come back to bed, or cried herself to sleep when he didn’t show up to your dates, that couldn't help but wonder. Was he really hiding something?
“And how exactly are we supposed to test this theory, Dustin-Hun-Buns?” You relented at last.
Dustin grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”
TEST ONE: For scientific purposes, and scientific purposes only, we must ensure that the subject has not undergone any alteration to its natural form. AKA, we must make sure that it does not exhibit symptoms characteristic of arachnids spiders. This includes, among other things, the expulsion of webs through places with holes.
You read it appropriately a hundred times, and approximately a hundred times, your face scrunched up in mortification. The expulsion of webs. Through places with holes. At the thought of it, you turned to the side and gagged a little.
"What's the matter with you?" Steve asked, walking into the kitchen just in time to catch you.
“Uh, nothing!” you blurted, crumpling Dustin’s notes in your fist and hurriedly tucking them behind your back. Steve gave you a funny look, unconvinced. “I was just thinking about that one time we walked in on Hopper making out with Joyce and it was so awkward. Remember?”
“Please don’t remind me,” Steve sighed, shutting his eyes in agony as if to erase the memory. “The stick was already in the hole.”
“Jesus,” You grimaced, trying to push the images from your mind. “Anyways, now that we’re talking about holes, I have something silly to ask you.”
“Yeah?” Steve hummed, only half-listening. A notification on his phone had already stolen his attention. “I’m listening, baby.”
“Well, for research purposes…” You began reluctantly, sneaking another glance at the crumpled note hidden behind your back. “And research purposes only, have you experienced…weird things coming out of you recently? Like, uh, webs or something?”
“No, I’m constipated, honey,” Steve answered vaguely, completely unaware of what he was saying as he continued typing on his phone.
Your face dropped. “Right, so, no webs…at all?”
“No, I haven’t gone in like two days.” Steve continued typing, his dismissal evident.
Without warning, you planted yourself in front of him, purposefully invading his personal space. He looked up eventually, his fingers stilling over his phone at the sight of your pinched brows and flushed cheeks. He knew you were pissed.
“What?” he asked, completely clueless.
“You’re doing it again.” You told him.
Steve frowned before following your gaze down to his phone. “Oh.” He quickly shoved the device into his back pocket. “Sorry, baby. It’s work.”
“Oh, they text you on Sundays now?” You asked, letting the words come out flat.
Steve’s shoulders tensed, and you could practically see the wheels turning as he scrambled for an excuse. Anything that would get you off his back.
“Yeah, it’s…uh, about this field trip we’re having next week. We’re still trying to figure out who’s volunteering and who’ll be in charge of each group."
“Uh-huh,” You hummed, not convinced.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he apologized, reaching for you. His arm slipped around your waist, pulling you against him. “What were you saying—”
His phone buzzed again, and for a moment, you thought he might actually have the decency to ignore it. Then his puppy-dog eyes betrayed him.
“I’m so sorry, honey, I’ll make it—"
You didn’t care to listen any further.
You pushed him away and walked out of the room without another word.
TEST TWO: If the suspected subject has undergone any alteration to their DNA, theoretically they should have greater stamina and endurance than the average human. In other words, he will not get tired. Do with that information as you please, sweetheart – Eddie.
You decided to forgive Steve a few days later.
Mostly because he was really good at apologizing and kissing you better. And you missed him, you truly did. In this embarrassing, yearning way.
You hadn't realized how lonely you'd felt until he was whispering sweet nothings into your ear, warm puffs of air lingering against your skin. His palm rested flat against your abdomen, applying pressure there as he fucked you sweetly. You threw your head back on the pillows, taking every inch of his cock.
"You're so pretty," Steve whispered, the words catching in the back of his throat as your fingers slipped into his damped hair and tugged at the mess. "Jesus, baby, you feel so...mmm, so good."
He stretched you out over and over. Until your eyes were rolling back and the only word coming out of your mouth was his name. Like a prayer, perhaps. After all, you were at the altar of his will.
He gave one of your knees a gentle push to spread your legs wider, and you gasped when he thrusted deeper, and so much faster than before. Your nails dug into his flesh as the slick sound of your cunt grew louder. Oh, you were almost there. So close.
"Come for me, baby," He cooed, his cock kicking up as you clenched around him. You didn't think you'd ever felt this heavenly before. "I want you all over my skin. Please, baby, you're doin' so good."
You looked up through splayed lashes, your eyes hooded and your lips parted. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. You were certain of it.
"Steve..."
"That's it, honey, let go," he continued, glancing down at your wet cunt while watching himself fuck you. "You're the prettiest like this...”
You came at the same time he did. And it was a mercurial high that left you sprawled across the mattress, chest raising and falling with uneven breaths, a sheen of sweat adorning your skin.
Steve was still towering over you, his arms braced on either side of your head as he admired you through splayed lashes. There was a lopsided grin on his face, and your cheeks warmed up.
"What?" You asked breathlessly.
"Nothing." He tilted his head, leaning in to press a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your neck, up your cheeks, and finally back to your jaw. "I'm just really happy right now. 'Cause you're with me."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," He kissed your lips, sweet and slow. "I meant what I said. I really am sorry about the other day. And the day before, and..." He paused, knowing he'd never finish the list if he started down that road.
"All the other times?" You prompted.
"Yeah," He looked away. "All the other times."
You see, this was where he always got you, because there was never even a hint of deceit in his voice. It was just him and those sticky-sweet words of his.
And all those bad days and lonely nights washed away beneath the cloying sweetness left in the wake of his guilt. Perhaps, that was why you never left.
That, or your self-imploding tendencies.
"You know?" He broke you out of your reverie, pressing himself against you. You felt him hard again, the thickness and the length, all eager and wanting. "I could fuck you over and over against this mattress for hours. That's how bad I got it for you."
You eyes widened.
Was that even possible?
"Liar." You threw around loosely, only to swallow when his eyes darkened. His pupils dilated until they nearly swallowed his irises, leaving you unable to distinguish where one ended and the other began.
But before he could prove you wrong, before he could grind against you and fuck you stupid again—his phone began to vibrate against the nightstand.
He ignored it at first, you’ll give him that.
Until that was all you could hear in the room.
“Answer it,” You encouraged him, bracing a hand against his chest as you pushed yourself upright. “You’re gonna anyway.”
And with that, you climbed off the bed and walked into the bathroom, listening as he cursed under his breath while getting dressed. Before finally walking out of the room to answer away from you.
TEST THREE: If the suspect has undergone any alteration, they should theoretically develop sensory abilities similar to those of an arachnid, allowing them to detect danger before it happens.
You stared down at Dustin's paper with low spirits. It lay splayed across your dining table, crumpled and stained with coffee residue from that one morning you'd accidentally set your mug down on it.
It was three in the morning, and there were a lot of thoughts running through your mind at once. Bad thoughts, mostly. You wondered if this was what denial looked like. When a relationship was already falling apart, but only one person was still desperately trying to make it work. It was three in the morning, and Steve wasn't home yet.
There was no text from him.
Nothing but unanswered messages.
Dustin's paper turned bleary sometime later. And you wiped your face with the back of your hand harshly when you realized you were crying. You felt pathetic waiting for him. Betrayed, actually.
Mostly because you'd convinced yourself he was cheating. That was the only logical explanation, right? That's why he was always on his phone. That's why he always stepped away to take his calls. That's why he still wasn't home.
Not Dustin's theories, no. Actual facts.
You heard his keys turning in the lock a few minutes later, but you didn't lift your head to look at him. He called your name a few times—or maybe he didn't. You weren't sure. You weren't really listening.
"Where were you, Steven?" You asked, your voice hoarse and tired. So very much tired.
He set his keys down carefully on the table, and you could feel his gaze burning into the side of your skull as he searched for your face. You refused to give him the satisfaction of looking up.
"I, uh..." Steve stammered, stumbling over his words. He squeezed his eyes shut when he realized he was only making things worse. "I was with Robin," he finally said. "She needed help with something and we lost track of time. I'm sorry, honey, I should've called. it won't happen again."
You hummed, tapping your fingers over the counter.
Your heart mimicked the quick rhythm.
"I called Vicky earlier," you told him, finally looking up and catching the guilt that flickered across his features. "And you know what she said?"
Steve pressed his lips into a thin line.
"That her and Robin were celebrating their anniversary," You continued carefully. "And that they were planning on staying in for the night."
A strained silence followed. So eerie that the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Still, Steve only stared at you, like a deer caught in headlights.
"Baby—"
"—Are you cheating on me?" You asked blatantly, swallowing the sentiment that threatened to spill from your mouth. "Because if you are, just tell me."
"What? No!" Steve nearly yelled, shaking his head vehemently as he tried to approach you.
Instinctively, you pushed your chair back, putting more distance between you. He stopped short, wincing at the sight. "I would never cheat on you, honey. Ever. You’re the only woman for me.”
"Then where were you?" You repeated, watching as he struggled to coherent his answer. “I need to know, Steve, I’m serious this time.”
“I—” He swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the roots. “I can’t tell you.”
You laughed, humorously and dry.
“You can’t tell me?” You repeated his words as another laugh bubbled up your throat. Steve winced at the broken sound. “Do you even love me anymore?”
“Of course I love you, baby. I could never stop loving you,” Steve rushed to say, reaching his arms out toward you before stopping when he saw you narrowing your eyes. He let his hands drop awkwardly to his sides, suddenly unsure of what to do with them. “I love you more than anything.”
“Not more than anything,” you countered, your bottom lip trembling. “Not more than… whatever it is you’re doing. Not more than whatever it’s keeping you away from me. Not more than that, Steve.”
Steve shook his head again, and beneath the dim lights hanging from the ceiling, you could see the hairs on his arms standing on end, catching in the billows of yellow light. They rose alongside the goosebumps erupting across his skin.
You wondered if he’d been expecting this already.
“You don’t understand—” He started shakily.
“—Then tell me,” You interrupted him. “Make me understand, Steve. I’m begging you here.”
Steve groaned loudly, running his hands down his face. He was desperate and struggling. “I wish I could tell you, honey. You have no idea how many times I’ve come this close to telling you…”
You waited for him to finally spill everything. You waited for him to tell you the truth so the two of you could get past this. So you could work things out and find your way back to how things used to be.
But he didn’t.
“I can’t.” Was his final say. “I really can’t.”
You nodded despite the tears streaking down your face. Your heart felt heavy inside your ribcage, like a dead weight, anchoring on your spot. You wondered if this is what a dying of a broken heart felt like.
“Sweetheart, I know how bad this sounds, okay? But I need you to trust me, baby. This has nothing to do with me cheating on you or—” He stopped, watching you with teary eyes.
“What are you doing?”
You didn’t answer. Instead, you crossed the kitchen toward the duffle bag tucked beneath the counter.
“I’m leaving, Steve.”
“No, no, baby, we can work this out—” He was crying now, crossing the room in quick strides. He reached for your arms, but you squirmed out of his grasp. “—don’t do this, please. I swear, I’ll do better. I’ll do anything, baby. Anything!”
You scoffed, but it was a watery thing.
“Anything but tell me the truth, right?”
Steve’s lips parted, but no words came out. He could only look at you, his hazel-brown eyes glistening with tears gathered along his lower lids.
You were right.
Anything but the truth.
“Goodbye, Steve,” you whispered, pushing past him. He tried to argue, but you didn’t stop to listen to any more of his pleas. Instead, you made sure to slam the door loudly behind you.
warnings : explicit sexual content; SMUT; 18+; dry humping; mention of male masturbation; making out; kissing; ANGST; FLUFF; no use of y/n; toxic gator; not proofread; possible grammatical errors; english is not my first language
💌 lillie talks : sorry girl this took so long to get out, but it took me long to figure it out 😭 thanks @yailology for really giving me good ideas 🫦
𓊈 wicked games masterlist 𓊉 part 3 | part 5…
Your back was fully pressed on the shelves of the supply room of the coffee you work for. Gator’s lips were pressed on yours and moving in a steady rhythm, his tongue deep inside your mouth. Make out session in tiny rooms begun to be the habits. Almost everyday, you would end up back against a random wall, Gator’s lips stuck on yours and his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt.
“Let me take ya on a date.” He told you between two kisses.
“What- ?” You pushed him gently by the chest, surprised with his words. You tried to hide a smile, a mission in which you completely failed. Your entire head turned red and your heart beat fastened so quickly you thought it was gonna explode.
He chuckled quietly, “Ya heard me, pretty girl.”
He kissed your lips one last time before turning away and disappear behind the door.
You smiled foolishly, biting your lips and blushing hard. You weren’t expecting this at all, Gator is not the type who brings girls on date. He choose them in a crowd, fuck them and say good bye. Maybe you were different ? Maybe he really cared this time.
It’s only few minutes later that your phone screen lit up to expose Gator’s new message.
Gator
i’ll get you at 8
You
tonight ?
Gator
‘course tonight
You
i can’t
i already have plans
Gator
don’t give a shit
You
no gator i really can’t
Gator
tonight
8
Fuck.
What are you supposed to tell your parents ? You got invited at their friends house months ago, you can’t just cancel the morning before. And for what reason ? Because you have a date with Gator ? Definitely not.
You knew Gator was going to show up even if you tell him not to. He’s like that. When he wants something, he gets it. And if he wants you, he gets you.
The second you passed the front door, after your shift and around 6 pm, you faked coughed so loud it hurt your throat, and almost made you throw up. You figured out that telling your parents that you were sick was the best option to avoid going to that friends house.
“You’re fine sweetie ?” Your mom asked, walking in the entryway.
“I don’t know,” you coughed again, “I don’t feel very well.” One of your hand settled on your stomach, holding like it was hurting.
She pressed the soft palm of her right hand on your forehead, “You’re not hot.” She frowned, “What’s wrong ?”
“I don’t know, I think I might have caught a cold.”
Her brows pulled together, “In June ?”
You shrugged, “The AC’s really cold at work.” You forced a small smile before coughing again.
She nodded, “You think you’ll be able to come tonight ?”
“I don’t know, my head’s pounding and my throat hurt so bad.” You hardly swallowed, “I don’t want to make them sick.” You smiled faintly.
“Okay.” She nodded again with a grin before walking away.
You quickly climbed up the stairs and took your phone.
You
i’m free tonight
Gator
no you’re not
we have a date
You rolled your eyes but smiled, throwing yourself on your bed and kicking your feet in the air. You suddenly felt like a little girl on Christmas day, smiling from ear to ear and your entire face flushed pink.
The man you loved for almost two months now, was finally asking you out.
About forty five minutes later, your mother entered the room after knocking. She found you tucked under the blanket with messy hair, the only light in the room being a small candle you lit up few minutes ago.
“You’re feeling better ?” She asked. She was beautiful, all dressed up and makeup on.
“Not really.” She crossed the room in three steps and sat on the edge of your bed. Her hand pressed softly on your forehead again, “Still no fever.”
She paused for a moment, studied your face, then your phone lit up. It was Gator. She glanced down to the phone and then back up at you.
“You’re not really sick are you ?”
You slowly shook your head, “He’s picking me up at 8.” You admitted quietly.
She brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, “Be careful,” she told you, “we’ll be home around 11, make sure to be back before.”
You nodded and smiled softly, “I will, thanks mom.”
She smiled back and left the room quickly.
Your parents left only five minutes after your mom left your room.
As soon as your head the front door lock, you jumped out of your bed and ran to the bathroom. You took a ten minutes shower, cleaning your body with a floral soap your mom had bought.
When you got out, you took the time to moisturize your skin with a vanilla moisturizer that Gator loved even if he didn’t want to admit it. You put on a lace underwear set, even though you hadn’t planned on doing anything with him tonight, at least more than you already did. You’d already commuted enough sins, and the pastor didn’t look at you the same way during Sunday’s service after your confessions.
You made sure your makeup looked natural and not too much, Gator loved your natural face. You curled the end of your hair, and attached the two front strand on the back of your head with a small hair clip. And put on a baby yellow dress, without forgetting your ballet flats.
Gator
here in 5
hope youre ready
You smiled and bit your lips gently, before applying cherry lip balm that tainted your lips a little.
Five minutes later, like he said, he texted you again.
Gator
here
You didn’t bother to answer, you just grabbed your bag and practically ran down stairs. You made sure to lock the front door exactly the way your parents did an hour ago. The headlights of his car lit up the front of the house, blinding you the moment you stepped outside.
You quickly walked over to his car and climbed into the passenger seat. It took less than a second for Gator to grab your head and crash his lips on yours, giving you a small kiss.
“Hi.” You blushed when he pulled back, his hand cupped on your cheek.
He just gave you another one of his cocky grin, and started the engine.
“Where are we going ?” You asked quietly, looking through the window while he was driving.
“Presley’s diner.” Your head snapped towards him.
You used to go to that place often with your grandpa when you were a kid, every time you came to spend the whole summer at his house.
You were there so often that you became friends with the Presley’s twins, John Presley’s children, the owner of the diner. A boy and a girl, both of them were nicer than anyone else.
The girl, Chloe, became your best friend quickly. You used to spend all day together, strolling through the forest and imagining a fantasy land. A big pink castle between the tall trees, a kingdom where you are the princesses.
And the boy, Mason, was your little vacation crush. At least at the start. Four summers ago, you started dating, and things didn’t go as well as you thought it would. Growing up, Mason turned into an absolute jerk, he was a little bit like Gator. He found a new girl to seduce every weekend, she always ended up in his bed and he would ghost her the next day.
The starting of your relationship felt like heaven, he would bring you flowers almost every week, text you that he loved you multiple times a day, and even blushed when you told him that you loved him too.
That was before he fucked your cousin while you were together.
When you learned it, you obviously ended things, and for some reason he got mad and told the entire town rumors about you. Chloe stopped talking to you too, and you stopped coming to your grandparents house for the summer.
Gator’s head turned to you, “Something’s wrong ?” He frowned.
You shook you head, “No.” Forced a smile and turned your gaze back to the windshield.
After a silent drive of fifteen minutes, you finally arrived to the diner. But instead of parking his car, Gators took the way to the drive thru.
You frowned slightly, “We’re not going inside ?”
He shook his head, “Too busy here.”
You ordered your food after Gator, some cheddar french fries with a small hamburger and a cherry coke. You didn’t listen to what Gator ordered, you were too busy trying to see behind the small window if one of the twins was here.
It’s only five minutes later that Gator finally parked. A small empty parking next to the big lake sitting between the trees. The only light came from his headlights and the only sound was the wind blowing the leaves.
You stayed in his cruiser, eating in a loud silence. But you were comfortable here, a little bit shy still, but comfortable. Your cheeks were flushed pink the entire time and your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it.
Then his hand found you thigh, “Yer Alright ?” He asked quietly, his eyes stuck on yours.
You nodded slowly, giving him a small smile. His thumb brushed your leg gently.
“Good.” He leaned down and kissed your lips softly. You smiled more when he pulled away, but turned your head to try and hide it.
“Don’t.” His hand grabbed your chin to make you look back at him.
He was so gorgeous in the dim light. His big hazel eyes admiring your face, his thin lips spreading a smirk, the small bruise on his cheek darkening in the night.
You brushed two fingers on it slowly, not pressing just caressing, “What happened ?” You questioned, your brows slightly pulled together.
“Roy got a little bit angry.” He said very quietly, grabbing your wrist and pulling it back down on your lap.
Your brows furrowed now, you were concerned, “Why ?” You shook your head.
You saw him swallow hardly and he shook his head, looking away for a moment. His eyes snapped back to yours, “I like spending time with you.” He admitted so quietly you thought you were hallucinating.
You grinned and looked down, avoiding his gaze while your cheeks were burning. Your heart pounded so fast in your chest.
He leaned down a little, “I like when you kiss me.” His cocky grin found his way back to his mouth, “I like when my thumb is brushing your nipples.”
He leaned even closer, you could feel his hot breath on your neck, “I like when my fingers are inside your tight little pussy.” His grip on your thigh tightened, “I like seeing you vulnerable under me, moaning and whimpering my name so loud that even the neighbors can hear it.”
Your stomach tightened on his words, and your eyes shut down when his hand moved further up your thigh, slipping under your little dress.
You swallowed, you can’t do that.
“Gate-”
“Shh.” His thumb brushed over your lace panties slowly.
“Gator, I can’t do that.” You opened your eyes and looked at him.
“Yes ya can.” His other hand brushed your cheek slowly, still holding that cocky grin.
Your hand wrapped around his wrist to pull his hand away from between your thighs, “No Gator.” You shook your head slowly.
His brows frowned and his smile disappeared, “Why ?”
“I want to talk with you.” You said quietly, searching his eyes.
But that just made him laugh, “Oh, baby girl, ‘m not into talking.” He said, slipping his hand beneath your dress again.
You grabbed his wrist firmer now, “We never talk.”
He sighed loudly and pulled away, getting back in his seat, “What do ya even wanna talk about.”
You shrugged, your hands were tangled in your lap, your fingers playing together, “I don’t know.”
He glanced outside the window, his brows slightly pulled like he was bored.
“Tell me about you.” You said quietly.
A breath escaped his lips, it wasn’t exactly a laugh, “There’s nothing to know about me.”
“I’m sure there is.” You gently put your hand on his.
He turned to you and exhaled loudly, “’Promise ya there isn’t.” He looked in the windshield, “Life’s boring.”
You squeezed his hand slightly, “Then tell me what happened to your cheek.” Your searched his face.
“’Just Roy being Roy, nothing else to know.” He shook his head slowly.
Your brows furrowed, “Your daddy hits you ?” You asked very quietly and regretted it almost immediately.
His hand moved from yours, he seemed mad now. His elbow was pressed against the door and his knuckles almost white.
“Gator, talk to me-”
He snapped to you, “I don’t want to talk about that.” He said rougher than he wanted.
You jumped slightly, surprised. Your eyes widened lightly and you sat back in your seat, avoiding his gaze.
“’M sorry, baby girl.” He reached for you hand, “'Just don’t like talking about me.”
You nodded slowly, “Tell me about ya.”
You didn’t wanted to talk anymore and he could feel it. The way your shoulder tensed.
“Please, pretty girl, ‘m sorry.” He brushed your thumb slowly, “It’s just that, my life isn’t something I talk about very often.” You finally looked up at him, “It’s just very boring and toxic.”
You nodded slowly, “Tell me about you.” He repeated quietly.
You grinned, “There’s nothing really interesting about my life either.”
He grinned back, “’M pretty sure there is a lot of interesting things.”
You shook your head, still smiling, “I’m just an innocent church girl.”
His hand cupped your cheek and his thumb brushed it gently.
“You still don’t want to tell me what happened ?” You questioned again, “You know you can talk to me.”
He nodded slowly, but instead of answering with words, he just crashed his lips on yours.
It only took few seconds for him to slip his tongue inside your mouth, and swirling with yours. His free hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer to him.
He pulled away for a second, “Come here.” He pulled your arms and grabbed one of your legs until you were straddling him in the driver seat.
His hands were grabbing your ass and squeezing it, his lips started kissing your jaw and neck. Licking and sucking, leaving his saliva everywhere like a dog marking his territory.
His hand started guiding your hips on his hardening cock. Your dress was pulled up, making the thin lace of your panties brush against his jeans.
You whimpered softly, his mouth still exploring every inches of your neck, leaving small blue marks. You were rolling your hips on his now.
—
Gator was admiring you dry humping him. Your head fell back, exposing the soft skin of your neck to him, covered in blue marks caused by him and only him.
He was hoping you would just give up and beg him to fuck you, or get on your knees and take his dick deep inside your throat.
Every day he told himself he was getting closer and closer to his goal. Closer and closer to the day you’d let him penetrate you until you could no longer walk.
He thought about it so many times, and jerked off thinking about you vulnerable beneath him. Your pretty face all red and flustered from the sensation of his thick cock thrusting inside you, your juices mixing together while you would cry his name so loud.
But he didn’t wanted to scare you. Because if he did, you wouldn’t want to have sex with him, would you ?
You felt yourself getting closer, a wet spot had appeared on his jeans where you’ve been rubbing yourself on for the past 8 minutes. You held his shoulders so tightly, your nails digged into his skin.
“Gator-” You moaned, your eyes shut down.
“Come on, pretty girl, come on my pants.”
You let out a broken moan as your orgasm hit, your walls clenching around nothing. Gator also came, but without a sound, not even a whimper. He wasn’t the type of person who makes sound while having sex, this was for losers like he said, and he was a winner.
“Ya sound so pretty, girl.” He kissed your lips softly, so soft you weren’t sure if it was him anymore.
You grinned softly, catching your breath and brushing your hair out of your face.
He dropped you at your house few minutes later, it was almost 11pm. He kissed your lips harder this time and sucked your lower lips before letting you go, and making sure you were in your home before driving away.
You quickly changed into your pajamas, cleaned your face and got comfortable in your bed. Your parents arrived 5 minutes later, you were on time, you had a great night, and your dad didn’t know.
—
Gator laid in his bed too, his hand stroking himself thinking about what happened in his car.
Your pretty mouth moaning his name, your lips rolling against his so smoothly like you belonged there.
He was definitely getting closer to his goal. He knew that in a few days, he would take your virginity off.
You didn’t knew he would also take your dignity with.
description: cock warming with gator while you do your makeup:3
tw! smut, MDNI,unprotected piv, one homophobic comment.
word count! 1.0k
“Gatorrr!” you yelled out into the cabin. Dead silence echoed throughout the house. You huffed before trying again. “GATORRR!”
Gator walked into the room. “Jesus Christ, woman, what in the hell do you want? Always hollerin’ my ear off.”
You rolled your eyes at him. “Can you just come sit at my vanity chair?”
“Nuh uh. Nope. You ain’t tryin’ that makeup shit on me again. I ain’t no queer.”
“Oh my god can you just shut up for five minutes and come sit?”
Gator grumbled under his breath before crossing your shared bedroom and sitting in your vanity chair. “Alright. Now what?”
You stood above him, staring at him with a smirk, before you reached down and started to unbuckle his belt.
“What’re you doin’?”
“Oh my god, Gator, are you actually going to question me while I’m undoing your pants right now?”
Gator went silent and let you continue until you finally freed his cock. He was still soft, clearly not horny enough to get hard given the fact that Roy had given him an earful earlier in the day.
“What do you wanna watch?” You turned around, turning the TV on and leaving him out in the open, bare.
“Porn? What kinda freaky shit you plannin’ over there?”
“No, Gator, not porn. Like a show or a game or something, I dunno.”
“Uh… they got any football on? Why you want me watchin’ somethin’ anyway?”
You ignored Gator as you found a football game that was on (god bless it was football season, because it was the only way you could get Gator to sit down and watch something without complaining).
As you got the entertainment on for Gator, you made your way to yours. You shimmied out of your sweats and black thong, completely leaving yourself bare from the waist down. You made eye contact with Gator as he stared at your naked lower half. If he wasn’t hard before, he definitely would be now. Without warning you turned your back to him, and wrapped your fingers around his cock. It twitched in your hand, thickening fast as you stroked him slow from base to tip. You lined him up, felt the blunt head nudge against your entrance, then sank down. The stretch burned sweet and deep as your walls parted around him, inch by inch, until you were half way seated. Heat bloomed low in your belly. You watched him in the vanity mirror eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched, a low grunt vibrating out of his chest.
“Goddamn, woman… what the hell you tryin’ to do?” he asked, making eye contact with you in the mirror.
“Just watch your game while I do my makeup,” you answered, acting unfazed by the fact that Gator’s cock was halfway into your guts.
You opened your vanity drawer, picking up your eyebrow pencil, and started to fill them in. Then you pumped primer onto your skin and grabbed your concealer to conceal your brows.
Gator tried his best to focus on his game, but every time you shifted it just added to his hard on, which was starting to hurt from the lack of friction.
You settled deeper onto him, hips rocking just enough to take the rest of his length until you were fully seated, the stretch making your breath hitch once before you forced yourself still. Gator’s hands twitched on the arms of the vanity chair like he wanted to grab your waist but was too stubborn to give in yet. On the TV, a referee’s whistle blew and some guy in pads got leveled; Gator’s eyes stayed glued to the screen even while his cock throbbed hard inside you.
You leaned forward toward the mirror, elbows braced on the vanity top so your back arched and your ass pressed flush against his hips. The new angle made him grunt low in his throat.
“Fuc- sit still, will ya?” he muttered, voice rough.
You kept your eyes on the mirror, blending concealer under your eyes with the little sponge. The spongy texture whispered against your skin. Gator’s cock throbbed inside you, thick and hot, and every time you leaned forward to get closer to the mirror your walls clenched around him. He answered with another failed thrust, the chair legs scraping the floor as he tried to fuck up into you from below.
“You’re doin’ this on purpose,” he accused, eyes flicking from the game to the mirror and back.
“Doing what? Makeup?” You smirked at his reflection, deliberately clenching around him once. His breath punched out of him.
“Jesus Christ, woman-”
His hands finally left the chair and clamped onto your bare thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks. He thrust up again, harder this time, the wet slap of skin on skin loud under the football commentary.
Gator kept trying to move beneath you short, frustrated rolls of his hips that made his cock drag deep along your walls. Each thrust sent a hot pulse of pleasure through you, but you stayed steady, blending product over your cheeks like this was any normal night.
The crowd on the TV roared. Gator’s grip tightened. He thrust up again, deeper, the head of his cock pressing against that sensitive spot inside you until your thighs trembled.
You kept your voice light. “Score?”
He glanced at the screen, distracted and panting. “Fourteen to seven. Don’t you start movin’ like that, wait… no… fuck, don’t stop”
You gave one slow, deliberate circle of your hips, just enough to make him curse under his breath, then went right back to smoothing foundation like nothing was happening. His cock twitched hard inside you. He tried to thrust up again, desperate for more friction, but you stayed planted, using your weight to keep him pinned to the chair.
“Makeup first,” you reminded him, catching his eyes in the mirror. Heat and wetness slicked the place where your bodies met. “Game’s not going anywhere. Neither are you.”
I know Gator is a terrible person, but I felt like this was more of a Gator type plot. Sorry 😞
when you come down with a fever during your shift at family video, steve takes it upon himself to get you feeling better.
steve harrington x fem!reader, fluff fluff fluff, reader being in denial, steve being crazy down bad.
word count: 2.3k
when you woke up this morning with a stuffy nose, you'd assumed it was your allergies acting up. it's the middle of autumn—not unusual for you to come down with a case of the sniffles (as your coworker steve affectionately calls it) with the weather getting colder. so you'd taken your antihistamines, standard procedure, and went into work as normal. there's also a strange tickle at the back of your throat this time, but you decide to ignore it. once the meds kick in, you'd be fine.
you glance up at the clock—it appears only a minute has passed since you last checked the time. still five whole hours to go.
the morning shift is always a drag. usually steve keeps you going, making jokes and informing you of every thought that crosses his mind, leaving the actual work part of your job on the back burner. even on the quietest of days, there's never a spare moment that steve won't spend finding you. you used to find that highly annoying, never being able to just sit in the silence, but you had to admit, you've grown to enjoy it. crave it, even. especially right now—the meds don't seem to have done anything to relieve your sinuses. if anything, you only feel worse. you could really use steve to distract you from the dull ache growing at the back of your head.
however, today of all days, he's busy at the back, leaving you working the front desk and robin on the other end of the store, shelving tapes. you try and focus on auditing the tapes, doing your best to blow your nose discreetly every so often.
after what feels like hours, steve finally emerges from the back room carrying a huge cardboard box, filled to the brim with worn, old tapes. the second you lay eyes on him, you feel your heart settle back into place. just being in the same room as him has that effect on you.
"hey," steve comes up to the front of the counter and sets the box down heavily. "haven't seen ya all morning. keith's got me cleaning out all the broken tapes. there's gotta be hundreds back there. this is just one box," he pats the box, which rattles. "what've you been up to?"
"audit, usual stuff." you respond, clearly congested. you cringe at how your voice sounds.
"woah. are you ok?" he turns fully to you, and inspects your face.
"yeah, i'm fine. just allergies." you try to play it off.
he places the back of his hand against your forehead. even in your indisposed state, the contact of his hand sends shivers through your skin, and makes your stomach flutter.
"allergies don't give you a fever. you're not well."
"i don't have a fever. and either way, it's fine. the meds will kick in soon."
"how long ago did you take them?"
"three hours ago—" a sneeze interrupts you.
"yeah. no way. i'm taking you home. get your stuff."
"what? no, we still have all day."
"exactly. you need to rest and get better. wait here."
steve hurries to the back and returns a minute later with your bag. "come on."
"steve, i appreciate your concern, but i'm fine, really."
"y/n, you really don't look well. you're only gonna feel worse at the end of the day. plus, don't think i haven't noticed the mountain of tissues in the trash," steve points to the small trash can under the desk. your cheeks flush—the absolute last thing you'd want steve to see.
"and anyways, it's noon on a monday, it's hardly peak time for customers. we'll do just fine without you."
"but- we can't leave robin all alone" you try as a final excuse.
steve turns and yells "hey, robin!"
she pops up from behind a shelf, busy shelving away tapes.
"yeah, dingus?"
"i'm taking y/n home. she's got a fever. will you let keith know when he gets back? 'kay, thanks bye!"
"steve!!" robin yells annoyedly, but then defeatedly adds, "feel better, y/n."
the door closes behind you as the two of you walk to the beamer.
you make it five feet before you stop.
"what if we get fired? just walking out of work in the middle of the day? we should at least wait to tell keith in person." you suggest.
"keith could be back in two minutes or two hours, you know how he is. let me worry about that, okay?"
you feel bad, making any of this steve's problem. but you're more concerned with the shiver that has settled over you.
"okay... is it just me or is it chilly out here?" you say through chattering teeth.
steve looks at you with concern, then walks you faster to the car. "that would be just you. there's no way you could've lasted all day in there."
he opens the passenger side door for you and you drop in.
"oh shit. i can't go home. i don't have a key." you rub your eyes with the heel of your hands.
"what do you mean, you don't you have a key?"
"my mom usually gets home before me, so she unlocks the door when she gets home and i just go in. i don't have my own key."
steve runs a hand through his hair, quiet for a minute. "not a problem. we'll get you home."
he starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot.
your fever starts to get to you, not to mention the headache, so you decide to stop fighting it and let steve do whatever he's about to do. you won't admit it, but you're happy steve dragged you out of there.
you let your eyes close for the ride.
you hear steve turn the car off and you force yourself to open your eyes. immediately the unfamiliar house before you has you thinking if your illness has you hallucinating.
"we're here" steve says, taking the keys out of the ignition.
"...but, this isn't... you said you were taking me home?" your voice comes out slow and shaky.
"oh, not your home. my home."
"steve, what?" you say, sleepy and shivering. "i thought you were taking me to my home. that's usually what people mean when they say 'home'."
"yeah, well, unless you wanted to try breaking into your own house, which you're in no condition to, this was the next best thing. now come on, let's fix you up."
you're too sick and tired to protest. and what else could you even do? it's not like he'd take you back to work.
you unbuckle your seatbelt and steve opens your door for you. "sure, i'll be a willing participant in being held hostage at your house."
"never seen someone be so snarky even all shivering and snotty."
"ugh please don't bring that up, the... snottiness." you cringe. this is the last state you'd wanted steve to see you in, all icky and feeling gross. but you were too far in now.
"well, i mean, you are. can't deny that" he boops your nose and you glare at him grumpily.
"ok, not in the mood. got it." he unlocks the door and lets you two in.
you barely get to take in the fact that you're in steve's house. you try to get a look at your surroundings as he helps you to his room.
he sits you down on the edge of his bed, and you can't help but feel your heartbeat flutter, even if it's not the exact way you'd imagined you'd ever be doing so.
"wanna put on something more comfortable?" he pulls open his drawers and pulls out a hoodie and pajama pants. "you put these on, i'll get you some meds."
"what? no steve, i'm not gonna put your clothes on. that's absurd."
"why's that absurd?"
"they're- they're gonna get all coughed on and possibly snotted on, which is like really gross." you say, punctuating your point by coughing into your elbow almost on cue.
"well you're not getting into my bed with your family video vest on, that's for sure."
you look at him incredulously. "i'm not getting into your bed either. you have a couch, i can take that."
"please. just let me take care of you." he looks down at you with his big puppy dog eyes, and you've already lost the battle. there's no saying no to those eyes.
you take the clothes from him.
"good girl. i'll be right back. put them on," he points at the bundle in your hands again before closing his bedroom door behind him.
you put on his clothes, and naturally you're drowning in them. you had to admit, they felt great. your outfit had started sticking to you uncomfortably from the fever, and you already felt so much better being out of it. you would give anything to be able to have your nose clear up for even five seconds so you could bury it in his hoodie and drink in his scent.
it starts to sink in—you're in his room. you decide to take a little advantage of the situation. you have a look at the plethora of hair products scattered on his dresser, chuckling to yourself. going over to his desk, you see a stack of cassettes. you're about to look through them when you hear his footsteps approaching.
"hey, can i come in?" steve's voice comes from the other side of the door.
"yeah, i'm done," you say, padding back over to his bed.
he opens the door, pausing for a moment when he lays eyes on you. his eyes drift down your body, his hoodie swallowing your form. his face softens as he looks at you, a smile spreading across his face. heat rushes to your face as he walks into the room.
"alright. this should bring the fever down. but it's gonna make you pretty drowsy" steve hands you a pill and a glass of water. you take it without protest, wanting the icky feeling to leave you as soon as possible.
"that'll take about ten minutes to fully kick in. do you need anything? heating pad? cool cloth? tissues? blanket?"
you look up at him, aching with gratitude for the man in front of you, taking care of you even when he had no obligation to. instinctively, you pull him into a hug.
"thank you," a major understatement, but it's all you can manage to say at the moment.
"it's no problem," he moves his hands to your arms. "woah, you really are burning. good thing the medication's already in your system."
he pulls back his comforter, and you get in. you feel better just being under the covers, and the fact that it's steve's bed somehow makes it cozier.
"i'll be back right after the shift. feel free to go make something to eat or watch TV or anything, alright?"
you nod, your eyes half-lidded and sleep finally taking over you.
steve is quiet for a moment, then does something which catches you off guard, and softly moves the hair out of your face, gently holding the side of your head. the way he's looking at you is unlike he ever has before.
"see you later, sweetheart."
your heart skips a beat at the name. you're so sleepy you almost think you've dreamt it.
"bye, steve." you say softly. you close your eyes, and you're out before steve even leaves the driveway.
"hey sleepyhead", steve gently rubs your arm over the comforter. you stir, blinking open your eyes. it takes you a second to remember where you are.
"there she is," says steve, as you sit up.
"hey, steve." you say drowsily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
"how are you feeling?"
you test out a breath through your nose, and surprisingly you can breathe. and your headache is gone.
"much better, actually."
"that's great news," he says brightly, with that same soft look on his face. he walks around the bed to sit next to you on the other side. "what did you get up to while i was out?"
"i think i was knocked out the whole time," you reply.
"wow, you slept for like five hours. you really needed the rest." steve brings out a plastic bag and pulls out a takeout container. "i got you some soup. went with chicken noodle, hope that's alright. plus it was the soup of the day at the diner." steve says sheepishly as he hands you the polystyrene cup.
you feel your heart swell in your chest. of course he'd go the extra mile and get you soup too, on top of everything he's already done.
"chicken noodle's perfect. thank you," you say gratefully. "how was the rest of the shift?"
"same as the morning, barely any customers. told you we'd do fine without you. if there ever was a convenient day for the flu to strike, it would've been today." steve rambles, and you're right back in your usual dynamic with him.
"ok, that's good. was keith okay with me leaving early unannounced?" you ask, slightly afraid to hear the answer.
"yeah, he came back about an hour after i got back. to be honest, he was a little upset at first. but i talked it out with him. it's all good now, you don't have to worry about it."
you drop your head into your hands for a second, before responding, "oh my god, i know you're probably leaving out keith having a small hissy fit. i'm so sorry for making you do that—for this whole situation in fact. for majorly imposing on you like this."
"hey, remember this was my idea. you're not imposing on anyone. i wanted to do this."
you decide to ask the question boggling your mind since all this started, "why are you doing this?"
"what, helping you?"
"it's not just 'helping' me, you've gone insanely above and beyond. i'm in your clothes, for goodness' sake. don't get me wrong, i'm eternally grateful, but... i'm just your coworker. you could've just let me wait it out."
"you're not just my coworker. you're my... friend." there's a slight hesitation on the word 'friend'. "and i couldn't just let you suffer in silence. besides, you look cute in my clothes."
"even with my nose all red and my face puffy and generally being all gross?"
"you always look cute."
you both look at each other for a moment. you're trying to read his face, find the meaning behind his words. you set the soup down on the bedside table and face him fully.
"hey like i'm in a weird state right now, so this might be the meds talking, but that was... super flirty, right? or was that just to make me feel better about being unwell."
steve runs a hand down his face. "well, okay, let's see—you're in my house, in my bed, in my clothes and i got rid of your fever. have you ever seen someone do that for just their coworker?"
"see you're gonna have to spell it out, or i'm just gonna assume you're just really generous."
he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "goddamn it, i guess i'm doing this now. i like you. a lot. you're my favourite part of every day. and working that job really sucks sometimes but you're there so its really great. and yeah, i'd... i'd do anything for you, even... this." he gestures to you in his bed. "that spelled out enough for you?"
you're quiet for a moment, as you look at him. your heart has just about exploded in your chest.
"if i wasn't sick right now, i'd totally kiss you." you say, blaming your sudden boldness on your medicated state.
steve lets out a sigh of relief. "good, 'cos i thought i might've just made things really awkward if you didn't." he pulls you against his chest and kisses the top of your head, lacing his fingers between yours. "this'll do just fine."
a/n: sorry couldn't avoid using 'y/n' this time 🥀 also did you catch that kurt reference? lol. thanks for reading!
