ok so Iâm trying to figure out how to edit my masterlist and apparently im ancient and canât remember how to do anything on this goddamn app so bare with me. the writing on my masterlist currently is from nearly 10 years ago sooo here are the few things ive written recently while i figure my life out
Temporary Masterlist
the backroom confessional. (steve harrington x fem!reader)
Summary: Getting stuck with Steve in the van on crawl nights fucking sucks. Getting stranded in a snowstorm, forced to cuddle up next to the one person you cannot stand, all to share warmth and hopefully survive the night? Youâre almost certain youâd rather freeze to death. Almost.
WC: 18k+
Includes: bitchy idiots to lovers. one bed & forced proximity tropes. hurt/comfort. angst w/ some fluff to balance it out. language. steveâs trauma. readerâs trust issues. smut- heavy petting, humping, oral (f receiving), PiV sex, dirty talk. reader has no descriptions beyond breasts & vagina, and she/her pronouns. fic takes place in the winter, pre s5. prob some inaccuracies re: treating hypothermia; everything I researched was conflicting with other info, so for the sake of the fic, pretend any errors work lmao. lmk if I forgot any tags. // MDNI 18+ as always with my fics, please respect that.
A/N: Said I wasnât gonna even try to write a van fic, the fandom has enough, and then this idea slapped itself permanently into my brain after vol. 1, and unfortunately took me months to finish. So... sorry if youâre sick of the van fics, but hereâs one more đ title is a lyric from hard - hayley williams, and the fic is loosely (very loosely lol) inspired by the song itself. dividers by @/cursed-carmine
ââȘ always ready for the piano to fall / always ready to be left out in the cold / armorâs heavy, never suited me at all / but itâs the devil I know âŹ
This has to be the worst night for a crawl yet.
Much to your dismay, you're stuck with Steve in the van tonight.
Dustin's sick with the flu, Will is still restricted from ever leaving Joyce's sight at this point, and you were more knowledgeable on telemetry tracking than Jonathan.
Leaving you-Â alone- with your least favorite person, for the rest of the night.
Yeah, lucky you.
This isn't the first time you've been paired up with him, nor would it be the last, you're certain. However, tonight's forecast called for snow and plummeting temps; accurate as ever as the evening grew near, with grey-white clouds blanketing the skies, flurries fluffing up by the minute.
You tried warning the others about the weather, understanding that crawls were usually non-negotiable, keeping flexible to the military's burn schedules, unbeknownst to them.
It still had to happen; any chance to find and defeat Vecna is a chance to end this nightmare, once and for all.
And that's never your call to make.
Creaking the passenger side door open, the first greeting that hits you is a miffed grumble, "Jesus, took you long enough."
"Yeah, hi to you too, Steve," you deadpan, careful to climb in backwards, kicking as much snow off your boots as you can before shutting the door.
He gives you a once-over, poorly stifling an ill-fitted chuckle.
Rolling your eyes, you glare over at him. "What?"
"You look like that kid from A Christmas Story with all those layers."
"Ha-ha, very funny." You struggle to cross your arms, puffed up and padded down with your winter coat.
"There's heat in the van, y'know." Glancing over his shoulder, he throws a thumb to the back of the van. "That box of stuff is back there, too, but⊠kinda just a waste of space, don't you think?"
"Oh, for the love ofâ" you crawl between the front seats, shoving Steve's shoulder in the process. Reaching the medium-sized cardboard box, you drag a well-loved and worn blanket out. "We've been over this, Steve."
"We get it, your circulation sucks, or whatever. I don't see how that's anyone else's problem."
"If I have to put up with you leaving all those goddamn Boppers wrappers around, you can deal with the emergency box." Holding a hand up, you add, "Which, is for everyone, by the way."
"Yeah, well, a sleeping bag's a little much. And extra socks? A sweatshirt? C'monâ"
"Last week Dustin was glad I packed that sweatshirt when it dropped to 40 degrees at night," you settle in the back, unlocking the wheel on the ceiling. "Because you refused to shut your window."
Exasperated, he throws his arms up. "The cold keeps me awake! Sue me!" Steve turns around, lip curled upward in disgust. "Also it's gross you just⊠leave socks for other people to use."
"They're new and I wash them if they get used! I wash everything in here, you fucking morâ"
"Hey, guys, you good to go?"Â Robin's voice through the tinny speaker of the walkie disrupts the insults you had on standby for Steve.
Glaring at Steve while he reflects his own sharp stare, you respond, "As good as we're gonna get."
There's no room for Steve to bite back; you're already tugging the headphones over your ears, focused as you fidget with the knobs. Your main concern isn't him, it's tracking Hopper to keep this as successful and safe of a crawl as possible.
Steve's gaze lingers, but it softens, deflates into one of dejection. You feel his eyes on you, but ignore it, thinking he's still trying to hold out on the sign of animosity; it's not that.
Despondency plagues him whenever you're around, and he resorts to cynicism, trapped in its ugly cycle. You hate him, why should he play nice in return?
It's easier to allow bitterness to keep distance between the two of you. Easier to forget how you and Steve were just in reach of something more.
Until you justâŠÂ left.Â
 Friendship break-ups are sometimes harder than romantic ones.
No one ever talks about that weird gap, suspended between acquaintances and beyond, falling into potential friendship, drifting back off into something bitter, a bond you only shared, tip-toeing along a jagged edge.
You'd drift in, drift out.
Grew close, just enough for hope to thrive, only to push him away.
In, out.
All while longing for something more, desperate to ride out a wave that drifts back and builds momentum, only to crash ashore into nothing.
So you cough up water, take a few deep breaths, and dive back in again.
Turns out, that shit gets exhausting over time. Especially when you discover a grim truth, hidden from the start.
When you're not treading water to stay afloat, it's swimming through a naval minefield in murky waters; drift into one, and you're blasted into overthinking what went wrong, what stopped the bond from blooming. And all it takes is one 'what if?' to shift course and bump into one these mines, ruining your day completely.
What if you hadn't moved away after Starcourt's explosive demise, deciding on a fresh start by leaving this nightmare of a town behind?
What if you and Steve were able to become more, if not stay friends, and he had just been honest about the Upside Down from the beginning?
What if you allowed that friendship to swell into something more? Standing him up on a date that could've changed everything; a wave ready to ride out naturally, only to retreat. Withdraw like the ocean before returning full force as a tsunami; why follow the tide out just to trap yourself in the path of imminent destruction?
If you stayed⊠would it have been worth it?
The two of you were star-crossed; Steve was still hung up on Nancy when you discovered your feelings for him. When he moved on, you found someone else. It almost turned into a sad, little game; when one was ready, the other had been redirected elsewhere.
It was even pitiful, the way you two barely had a friendship to build on, because one wasn't ready, and the other got tired of waiting.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Your time outside of Hawkins brought you steps away from turning fully into stone; get hurt enough times, you refuse welcoming anyone and everyone in so easily. One too many soured relationships had you settled on the idea that maybe you just weren't meant to share love like that.
That hurt transforms your body as a shield for your heart, ribs hardening into steel cages as an added last line of defense; you were one heartbreak away from adding electric barbed wire for good measure.
No one would get in again. Not if you could help it. Not like that.
Coming home wasn't an easy choice, but it was the only one that felt right. Your friends were still here, who you loved as familyâ bonded through unholy tragedies rather than blood, still family all the same; you had to check on them. You couldn't leave them hanging again.
Because your first thought upon hearing of the destruction, was what if any of them died?
Then you return to find out the worst what if came true: someone among the group died; Eddie's gone. And Max? Well⊠she's closer to a tragic ending than most of you.
You suffocated yourself in distractions, helping your parents to pack up and move out, promising you wouldn't be too far behind, that you needed to check on your friends immediately.
Unfortunately, coming home right before the town went into quarantine was not part of the plan.
Time away had you forget how downright stubborn Steve could be if he set his mind to something, and all he wanted was to break your walls down, at least to find common ground.
That was still far too much give, and not enough take for you. They're not uncharted waters, you just know you're not meant to navigate them, and know damn well Steve would just stand by and watch you sink.
Those what ifs of your past resurfaced, pulling you under, taunting you to open your mouth when there was nowhere to breathe.
The last place you needed to drown in emotions you couldn't afford was in a town under quarantine. Locked in, fenced off from the rest of the world, with someone you barely had a chance to build a friendship with. Someone you always yearned for more with, yet royally fucked up any chances with.
That more, those chances, they're thousands of meters below a rough, choppy surface, down to the pitch-black depths of the abyssal zone; it's just not in reach, and you've protected your heart this long, you didn't need all that effort to go to waste within a impulsive dive, head first into what would certainly make your heart implode.
You can only tread water for so long, though.
"Hop's going as slow as possible tonight, so we don't have to speed, alright?"
Steve only shoves an aggressive thumbs up over his head, tongue prodding into the side of his cheek.
"I mean, it'll pick up if he hitches a ride on a military truck for a while, butâ"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Don't go fast unless necessary." He grumbles under his breath, "I'm not stupid."
And that stings, because you genuinely weren't insinuating that. In fact, you're certain you've never insinuated that before.
"Steve, I wasn't trying toâ"
"Don't."Â His shoulders tense up, grumbling out, "Unless it's about this crawl, I don't wanna talk. You focus on your job, I'll focus on mine."
His flat tone and curt demeanor makes your stomach churn. Nights like these where you're forced together have you longing for the past. Before you knew of the Upside Down, before he was trapped in a bunker below Starcourt, before you left like a goddamn coward.
Ever since you returned to Hawkins, it's like he resents you for protecting yourself. Your peace. Your sanity.
What the hell was the point of continuing to stick around, pour your heart into a friendship that only opened if you brought the crowbar?
Despite the mutual loathing, you and Steve make a pretty solid team when kept strictly to business.
Keeping up with a telemetry tracker while stuck in a snow storm is tricky, to say the least. Neither of you have a problem blaming the other for what's outside of your control, though.
"Jesus, Steve, slow down." It's hard to sit upright as he keeps his speedâ a speed that normally wouldn't be a problem, if it weren't for the slick roads. You hiss under your breath,"Fucking lead-foot."
He hears you, snapping back, "You wanna drive? Huh?" His eyes stay fixated on the road. The windshield becomes more obstructed as the snow gains momentum, falling heavily onto every surface within reach. "By all means, be my guest."
"God, you're such a bitch."
"Me?! Have you ever heard yourself talk for even, like, five seconds?" Steve's tempted to turn around to shout at you, but he keeps whatever cool he has leftâ which isn't muchâ and continues driving safely. "You're so fucking rude, and- god- you're so annoying, so fucking annoying."
"That's bold, coming from a pain in the ass like youâŠ" you grumble, trailing off as the signal on the tracker drops; Hopper stopped moving. "Steve. Steve!"
"What?! Christ, can't you shut upâ"
"Stop!"
"How come I have to stop, but you can keep bitching and moaningâ"
"I meant the van, asshole!"
Steve slams on the brakes, hoping to skid to a stop, but the van keeps moving.
Gliding. Coasting. The van's skating on the slick road, completely out of control.
You throw the headphones aside, scrambling to the front to peer around Steve's seat. "Dude, what the fuck?!"
"Shit, shit, shit!"
Steve's death grip wraps around the wheel, knuckles turning white; he's ready to turn it toward the shoulder to get off the road, but you grab his arm and hold him in place. Eyes darting to the floor, you see his foot is still weighed down on the brake pedal.
"Waitâ watch it! Harrington, keep the wheel straight!" Voice trembling from the frenzy. Steve's about to slam his foot down onto the brake when you panic, "Fuck, get your foot off the brake!"
Despite sliding, you don't spin. Snowfall rushes around the van, limiting visibility to just a few feet ahead. Even as the van slows, it fishtails. Steve frantically switches into low gear, breaths heavy and jagged as he releases control.
His right arm shoots out, bridging between the seats to brace himself and create a barrier to hold you back. Alarmed, he shouts, "Stay down!"
You don't move in time before impact, but you're projected into his arm with force, restraining you from hurtling over the seats and into the dashboard. The van's wheels rumble as it veers off the road, the ditch finally slowing you down to a halt.
Adrenaline rushing, you pant as you're frozen against his arm, processing that absolute disaster.
"ShitâŠ" Steve gasps, trying to catch his breath. "⊠You okay?" Scanning over your figure, unable to find immediate concern beyond the fear on your expression, his shoulders begin to relax.
"Uh-huh," you rasp out, glancing up at him. "You?"
He nods firmly and swallows. "M'okay."
Static harshly shoves into the van, with Robin's voice following close behind.
She drones out, "Angry Lovebirds, do you copy? Hellooooo? Where the hell did you two go?"
You cringe at the code name, wishing you could shrink on the spot and disappear.
"Why the hell does she still call us that?" Steve gripes, running his hands over his face. "We've neverâ I don't evenâ"
Her voice drops to a mutter and cuts Steve off, asking as if the others aren't on the same channel, "Please tell me you two didn't kill each other."
"Oh my god," Steve rolls his eyes with a groan, head falling back against the seat.
In reluctant favor of answering Robin, you leave the warmth of Steve's side to grab the walkie. You curse yourself inwardly at the misplaced feelings.
Thumb jabbing in the talk button, you exhale a winded response, "We're good, we, uhâŠ" Your eyes meet Steve's before darting away. "We hit black ice, though."
"Shit! Can you make it back safely?"Â She adds, "We were trying to get a hold of you guys, 'cus we had to call off the crawl. It didn't work out."
So the two of you slid on black ice⊠for nothing.
Fantastic.
"Um, hangâ h- hold on." Turning to Steve, you noticed smoke rising on the other side from the van's hood. "Oh, fuck."
Steve jerks his head up, jumping into action. He kills the engine, immediately cutting off the warmth from the janky heater. Throwing his jacket on, he flings the driver's side door open and jumps out. Snowfall drifts sideways from the wind, and he winces as it pelts into his face.
"Guys?" Nancy's voice takes over now, concerned with the delay. "What's the status on the van?"
"Uh- well, it's actuallyâ" You forget to release the talk button, shouting after Steve. "Wait! I'm coming with!"
Releasing it, a booming voice immediately floods through the speaker. "What the hell is going on out there?"
Hopper.
Oh, boy.
Meanwhile, Steve stands firm, shouting over the brutal, howling wind, "No, you're staying put!" He bites back on his own shivers, already creeping down his spine as he slams the door shut.
Well, can't say you didn't try.
Flicking your thumb against the talk button, your explanation comes to life with nervous laughter. "Hop! Hi. Soooooo⊠we're stuck in a ditch."
You can just imagine the drawn out sigh he lets out before responding, pinching the bridge of his nose, and all.
"Okay, where are you exactly?"
The glass of the back door window is freezing as you try to peek out. You huff your breath onto the glass, rubbing your sleeve against it to clear it up. It barely helps, with snow and frost beginning to coat it completely outside.
You squint through the narrow opening between patches of snow, gaze landing on the landmark in the near distance.
Groaning, you punch the talk button with your thumb. "The fuckin' cemetery."
"Language."
"Hey, I'm an adult! Last thing on my mind right now is censoring myself," you grumble into the walkie.
"How the hell did you two end up out there? That's not where I was in the Upside Down."
So, not only did the van throw you and Steve around like rag dolls on a failed crawl, but the tracker was off.
Way off.
"I- I don't know."
A frustrated shout cuts through the whistling squall outside. The van rocks as Steve kicks the bumper, cursing wildly at the shoddy engine.
"I thought you said you could handle tracking?"
Your blood begins to boil. Now's not the time for some trivial debate, not when you're possibly stranded in what's shaping up to be one of the worst snow storms Hawkins has seen yet.
There's no chance to respond when another voice, congested and hoarse, cuts in. "She can, she's actually good at this."
Dustin Henderson is a goddamn good egg, even while battling the flu.
You wish Hopper could see the smug grin on your face right now.
"I personally think Hop lost the trackerâ" silence cuts in for a second, returning with Hopper scolding him; they have to be fighting over the damn walkie. "Watch it, kid. I didn't lose shit."
You slam your thumb down onto the talk button within another pause, mocking back, "Hey, Hopper? Language."
Another pause draws itself out, and eventually Robin returns with an exasperated huff. "You and Steve did nothing wrong. Hopper definitely lost the tracker."
"I didn't lose the fuckingâ"
The talk button is released on her end, abruptly interrupting Hopper's rant.
"Anyway⊠we're not that far from the station, right?"
"Five miles an hour in that van might take way longer, but you're not making it here on foot in this weather. It's not safe."
Woven into the wind is a muffled "son of a bitch!". The hood slams shut, jostling the van before Steve yanks the van door open, gracelessly stumbling inside.
Snow sticks to his hair, his clothes, slowly melting to leave him like a freezing, wet dog.
"This is fu-Â fuck, it's coldâ!". Steve huffs out a mirthless chuckle, appearing nowhere near amused. "S'fucking ridiculous." His teeth chatter as he gripes, eyes falling on you, then to the walkie. "Give m- me that."
Steve's hand brushes against yours as he snatches the walkie from you, frigid and stiff. It takes a few tries to hit the talk button and hold it in successfully.
"Can anyone come get us? The van's f- fucked." With his jaw this tight, he's about to crush his teeth to dust. For a second, his eyes flicker to you, and you swear there's a flash of something genuine within the hazel. "Leaving the engine run is a d- disaster waiting to happen, so we can't use the h- heat."
There's silence on the other end; lack of an instant answer usually never fares well for any of you.
Scouring through the emergency box, you pick out a small, rolled towel, handing it over to Steve. For once, he doesn't look at you like you're nuts for keeping the damn box stocked.
He accepts it with a trembling hand, murmuring a both grateful yet defeated "Thanks".
"It's too dangerous for anyone to drive out, and way too dangerous for you two to try walking back. The nearest tunnel is at least a mile out from you, give or take on where you two ended up exactly in the cemetery."
Steve exhales roughly through his red, wind-bitten nose, handing the walkie back to you. "You t- take it. M'too pissed off to be nice ri- right now."
Nodding solemnly, you grab it back, responding to everyone. "Okay. We'll just⊠tough it out. I got some stuff to stay warm, so we should be okay for a few hours at least." Sighing, you glance up at Steve, laying out the now damp towel on the dashboard. "But the second it's safe enough, someone needs to come get us."
Hopper presses the talk button early, releasing a weary sigh first. "We'll try when we can."
That's not good enough, not for you, and not for Steve; the two of you cannot be stranded here overnight.
Together.
Alone.
"No, you'll do it when you can. I warned y'all the weather would be shit. You get us out of this mess the moment this storm slows down. Got it?"
A lengthy pause begins to irritate you the longer the seconds pass.
"Yeah, kid. I got it."
In defeat, you chuck the walkie aside, swallowing down the urge to scream.
It's no use to be angry now; best to bury those emotions and redirect that energy into something useful. Like helping Steve.
Even if he doesn't really deserve your help to begin with.
"Okay, Harrington, here's what's gonna happen." He turns slowly, heavy-lidded with fatigue settling into his expression. "I think the clothes in here are your sizeâ"
"How the hell do y- you know what size clothes I wear?"
Would it kill him to be nice? Or quiet? For just five fucking seconds?
"To keep this shit on hand if we need it, and you're welcome, by the way." You toss a t-shirt with the radio's logo on it, wool socks, and sweatpants his way. "There's a reason I asked everyone what their sizes were months ago."
Steve catches it all, just barely, but he's left dumbfounded. Through chattering teeth, he snaps, "Wh- why the hell do I want these?"
"Are you kidding me? Dude, you can't stay in those clothes. You're gonna get hypothermia."
"Whatever," he starts peeling off his clothes, and you take that as a cue to turn around. A faint comment slips under his breath, "It'd be better than being stuck here."
It's still audible enough to you, clear enough to sting. You feel like a damn fool for thinking Steve was finally presenting something other than hatred, for once.
"You're not the only one who doesn't wanna be stuck here." Rubbing your eyes, you sigh.
There's no way you can last the night in here without killing one another; it's too long to put up with his bullshit.
UnlessâŠ
There might be one shred of hope left. And okay, sure, it's more a thin, fraying thread that could lead to nothing, but you won't know until you try.
You bundle yourself back up, zipping up your jacket, winding the scarf around your neck tightly, tugging your hat over your head. Steve notices when you're slipping your hands into a pair of mittens.
"Hey, whoaâ" Now comfortably changed, he clambers to the back, a little too close for comfort. "No. What are you doing? You're not going out there."
But you ignore his concern, if it's even real to begin with. "That gas station's still down the road, right?"
"Maybe? I don'tâ that's notâ" Frazzled, he stumbles over his thoughts. "You're not walking down there in the snow." His fingers fight against stiffness, winding around your wrist shielded under your coat. "You need to be safe."
"Why? So you don't get the blame if something bad happens?" Irritated, you yank your hand back. "Just⊠wait here. I'll be quick."
"Quick? Yeah, right. It's not that close by foot." Steve, still stiff from the cold, clumsily shoves in front of you to block the back doors. "Your circulation sucks, remember?"
His attempted smartass comment fails miserably as concern seeps through the cracks of his tone.
"And you said it wasn't your problem," you retort, shoving him aside. "Look, it's right down the road. Maybe we'll be lucky and they'll have coffee, or something hot. We both could use something like that right nowâ"
"You brought your thermos! I haven't seen you use it once." He runs a hand through his damp hair, sighing. "And even if they did have coffee, it'd be ice cold by the time you got back."
"Oh, you watching my every move now, Harrington?" Your voice drops low, dry, sick of this conversation. "That's precious."
He doesn't react, only argues, "What if it's closed?"
Your eyes dart away from him, faltering. "T- there's a pay phone outside," you really thought it'd be easier to shake him. "I can call someone to get us outâ"
"No. Now you're just being ridiculous." One hand perches on his hip, while the other waves wildly as he speaks. "Who the hell's coming out after curfew? Especially in this?"
You shrug, shrinking into yourself with a weak lie. "⊠I might know a guy?"
"Cut the shit, what's out there that's worth freezing to death for, huh?"
"I'm trying to leave you the fuck alone, Steve!" Seething, the explosion silences Steve, guilt and shame softening his expression. "I'm not thrilled to be stranded here with you either, but I was willing to play nice! I was willing to get along, but you don't want that, and thatâ" You bite back tears, ones born of anger, maybe even a hint of rage. "That's fine. Just trying to make it easier for us both, give some space."
"Wh⊠what?" He's dumbfounded. "When I said I didn't want to be stuck here, that wasn't about youâ"
"Oh, please. Like I buy that for a fucking second."
"I wish you would!" He exclaims, voice fracturing with panic. "You really think I want you to freeze to death 'cause we can't get along? That's the last thing I'd want."
"Yeah, wellâŠ" your hand lingers over the handle, glaring back at him, returning the jagged comment to sender. "It'd be better than being stuck here."
It's tempting to tack on "with you" at the end, but you bite your tongue. You're not even sure if you'd mean that.
Eyes set forward, you miss his sullen, wounded stare, etched into his features when you exit the van. You're plunging head first into regret once your boots hit the snow. Instead of swallowing your pride and climbing right back in, you feign indifference as you slam the doors shut without looking back.
The doors never reopen, and he never calls for you; it's clear how much of a relief the space is for both of you.
If you tell yourself enough times that it's better than being stuck in that doomed ice box on wheels with Steve all night, maybe you'll begin believing it.
Before the Upside Down, before losing his friends, losing Nancy, losing the cheap crown on his head in his fall from graceâ Steve could fall asleep with ease. His head could hit the pillow and he'd be out.
The typical high school blues were enough to send any teenager into stress-induced sleep loss, but the Upside Down's daunting reminder that the fight was only dormant, forced full blown insomnia to become his closest friend.
Exhaustion would lead him to eventually sleep, but he'd fight it off as long as he could; you can only handle the bloodcurdling screams and cries of your friends dying in your dreams so many times before giving up on sleep completely.
Every creak in his house on nights home aloneâ loneliness all too common in that houseâ had him holding his breath, waiting for sudden movements to echo out again. Every light bulb, flickering on its way out for good, froze him in fear of who, or what, lay in wait on the other side. And if a detail, no matter how small, is enough to keep him from sleep, that's an open invitation for his mind to spiral.
Tonight, trying to rest in the van, he notices a gap; it's thin and barely noticeable, between the flimsy plywood floorboards underneath the shag carpet. Steve feels it every time he tosses and turns; it always digs into his left hip, slightly uneven from the other board it should be snug against.
He flips to the right, but no, that feels wrong; he's not a right side sleeper. That changed after '84, and he's not exactly sure why, but he sleeps better on the left side.
And on his back? He doesn't even dare, not after a sleep paralysis episode after those fucking bats attacked him. That one and only episode he felt pinned to the bed, like a bat was choking him all over again. His scars ached for hours after, the one around his throat singed through his skin like some god-awful, hellish rope-burn.
So, yeah, Steve can't sleep, clearly not from the cold; turns out, that sleeping bag of yours was a good idea. He won't outright admit that though. Or, how your emergency box actually was, and continues to be, useful.
He tries to rest, flip-flops between sides to get comfortable, but the minutes you're gone only accumulate in his mind to a concerning degree, like the heavy snowfall outside. Every second that ticks past is a second too long without you.
By car, the gas station is a few minutes away. By foot, in weather like this, bundled up in excessive layers? Shit, even he'd struggle to move quickly. He'd definitely get sick, too.
Time passes, snow builds, and Steve continues to overthink. Eventually, he wonders, Am I really that fucking awful to be stranded in the snow with?
What the answer would be to you, he already knows. You think he doesn't give a fuck, and it's not like he's done much to prove otherwise.
To you, Steve's fears to let you go out into the cold were only linked to the clear concept of: if you got hurt, he'd be to blame.
To Steve, though, it goes beyond blame; he's scared, now rueful, that he didn't fight harder to make you stay, because the thought of losing you more than he already had terrifies him.
The possibilities of what could go wrong were endless: you, losing your way, disoriented from the blizzard. What if you froze to death out there? Or got caught being out past curfew? Though, Steve's pretty sure the military doesn't give a fuck about two idiots stranded in the snow.
The wind howls and whistles, whipping around the van as the snow falls diagonally. Every now and then, he opens each door to slam it again, shaking off the snow outside; there's too much buildup to keep an eye out for you.
He checks his watch; you left about an hour ago. The footprints that trailed behind you are now covered over with fresh snow.
Steve's tempted to radio everyone at the stationâ assuming they stayed in for the night with the stormâ but that means admitting he didn't stop you. He didn't protect you.
You're your own person, though. You don't need to be babied, or protected.
Sure doesn't stop Steve's protective side from caring about you.
It's not like anyone could come out to rescue either of you in the first place. But if you're gone and he says nothing, he'd never forgive himself if you got sick. Or worse.
Jesus, what if you're already freezing to death?
In the midst of internal panic, a thud! with fierce force slams against the van outside. Steve jolts upright, startled enough that it clears his damn sinuses while his heart races.
There's another thump, with a few more to follow, inching towards the passenger side door. It flings open, snow sprinkling in as you flop forward, face against the seat.
"Jesus Christ," is all Steve can manage to say, because he's grateful to see you, alive, but also, you're such a fucking idiot.
You crawl into the van, collapsing onto the floor. "'Idn't wanna get th'carpet wet," you mumble through your teeth, jaw rigid, struggling to close the door as the handle slips through your weak grip.
"C'mon, sit up for me." Steve guides you into the seat while you struggle, clumsy like you're intoxicated, yet your limbs are stiff. Under your freezing wet clothes, he can feel you shiver, practically vibrating uncontrollably.
When you're settled up right, he shoots an arm between the seat and wall, barely managing to grab the door handle and slam it shut.
"OwâŠÂ S'loud," you groan.
"Shit, sorry." He drags the box over, rummaging through it haphazardly. A pair of sweats and a sweater lay at the bottom, warm and ready to wear. He lays them aside, leaning over the seat to unzip your coat.
"D- damn, a'least flirt with me first," you slur, lips a muted shade from their normal lively color.
It's a joke, but not an invite for playful banter; Steve bites his tongue, quickly helping you out of your coat. He unwinds your scarf and tugs your hat off, dropping all of them to the driver side's floor.
Your clothes are soaked underneath, too. Though you're still pretty covered, he can see how strained your muscles are from stiffening.
Steve peels your puffy vest, hoodie, and sweater off nextâ Jesus, he forgot how layered you were. And it still didn't help.
"You're an idiot, you know that?" The fondness in his tone sneaks through the disapproval. When the air hits your skin, damp and frigid, gasp, face twisting from discomfort; it feels like sharp needles prickling along your arms.
"M'fine," yet you look far from itâ hair tangled and soaked, frozen in spots, skin dull of its usual shine and shade, lids weighed down like you're drunk and sleepy, even a little puffy.
Funny how concerned you were of him getting hypothermia earlier, when you're already there.
And by funny, it's fucking scary, because there's no way to get you to a hospital tonight.
Really, he doesn't think it's that severe, but at any stage, hypothermia's nothing to fuck with; you're still suffering no matter what, and he hates to see you in pain.
Hates that he just admitted that to himself, too.
"Bullshit," he contends as he pulls another small towel from the boxâ seriously? You thought of everything with this box.
He'll thank you later. Maybe even apologize for being such a dick about it if it saves your asses.
Steve lays the towel over your head, gently tousling your hair against the fabric to help it dry. You shiver violently, "Hey, the sooner you get changed, the sooner you'll feel better."
"Said m'fine," you grit your teeth, attempting to shove him away, but your arms are still weak and stiff. "Jus' put the heat on."
"We can't run the engine, remember?" Steve throws the towel onto the driver's seat; that's a problem for future him. "C'mon, you can't stay in your clothes."
The moment the words leave his lips, he cringes, waiting for you to snidely remark, insinuate he's a pervert, but you're quiet.
Yeah, you're worse than he thought.
"I'm gonna help, okay?" There's no protest from you. He reaches down to the hem of your shirt, tugging up, but pausing before it passes your belly button. "This alright?"
"M'yeah, s'kay."
If you weren't tumbling into a life threatening condition, he'd poke fun at how wasted you sound.
Steve's perceptive, keeping an eye on your reaction, ensuring he's not hurting you. Prioritizing your safety doesn't make the reveal of you, half naked, any easier to deal with.
Shirt thrown to the side, Steve scrunches his eyes shut, scolds himself internally to behave, don't be a creep. He leans from behind the seat, over you to unbutton your jeansâ Jesus Christ, why the fuck did you wear jeans? They're practically painted onto your form after all the ice and snow sunk into the denim.
He sucks in a breath, "Uh⊠can you get them off yourself?"
"S'okay, jus' leave 'em like this."
"It's really not," he sighs, climbing between the front seats and sliding down to the floor before you. The space is limited, incredibly limited, and he's contorting in a way he's never folded before, just to fit here. And for you, of all people.
He finds the chair's lever, shoving it back as far as it can go, though not much of a difference exists.
"Okay, c'mon, boots first."
Steve undresses you with care, tries not to notice the position you're both in, how close his face is to your core. How he's imagined on lonely, late nights, him kneeling for you, while he strokes himself, cock twitching as always while wondering what you taste like.
Every last ounce of self control is gathered up to keep his composure. You're in your underwear. Nothing else.
And your underwear? Yeah. That's wet, too; bra sticking flush to your chest, nipples peaked enough to reveal their shape through the fabric. He dares to take a lower peek when your eyes flutter shut as you sighâ out of concern, not pleasure, he reminds himselfâ and the fabric against your core is damp, hugging to the shape of your puffy lips.
He scrunches his eyes shut, runs a hand down over his mouth as he thinks âŠÂ fuck me.
You shiver and twitch and whimper as the near-numbness finally settles into fucking freezing. It shatters whatever trance Steve was falling into.
"Honey," he frowns at himself immediately, because where the fuck did that come from? "You need to warm up."
There's no way to suggest sharing heat without sounding like a total pervert. Every choice of words could definitely be taken as suggestive, at best.
At worst? Steve's coming off as Hawkins' biggest douche-bag.
"Don't wanna," you whine, petulant and pained.
"It's this or freeze to death," he forces himself to deadpan, afraid of coming off as too concerned.
"You'dâ bet that'd make y'happy."
He's not sure if he should file that comment under the usual banter the two of you have, or something worse.
"It wouldn't." Steve crawls up, hands gripping the sides of your seat as he tries respecting your spaceâ the little bit left, at least. And still, he stumbles, catching himself right before he headbutts you. "Shit. Ahâ shit, I- I'm sorry."
If he makes eye contact with you right now, it is game over. The whine you just released, though likely in pain, doesn't help his already wound-up, touch-starved thoughts.
"Okay. Okay," he sighs, more to himself, finding his balance again. "C'mon, we're gonna use that sleeping bag of yours to stay warm."
You're slow, painfully, agonizingly, moving at a snail's pace, while Steve moves you out of the seat. He's patient, cautious, already trying to press his body against yours to share warmth from the moment you begin trembling.
"Slow, take it easy," he guides you to the carpet while he murmurs softly. It's a miracle you make it to the back safely, considering how frozen stiff your joints are. "Doing okay?"
That's a dumb fucking question.
"Other th- than my t- t- tits freezing off, m'f- fine."
When you flash a curl of a smirk, just the tiniest one, Steve still feels relief. It's a speck of relief, but he'll gladly accept.
About to sit from your kneeling position, he grabs your hips to stop you. Steve clears his throat, awkwardly releasing you.
"Sorry, just, uh⊠your, uh⊠theâ" he nods vaguely to your chest, eyes lingering for a second too long, wondering how soft you'd feel. By the time he peels his eyes away to drift lower, he gulps. "Those need to come off."
"Wh- why?" You pout, body violently trembling the longer you go without warmth.
"Just work with me, okay? Dry clothes aren't gonna warm you up enough on their own." He huffs, kneeling near you. "M'not trying anything funny, I promise."
Leaning close, Steve's face is near yours while his hands reach around your torso. His fingers skate up your cold skin, bringing about his own shivers, finding your bra clasp and unhooking it.
Poorly strangling a gasp, it still manages to slip past your lips, and he's almost certain it's because you're in pain. Nothing else.
But it sure sounds like it stems from another source.
Hovering his touch, he halts, eyes wide as they dart to meet yours. "Did I hurt you?"
"N- no, just co- c- cold." Teeth chattering, you grab onto his shoulders weakly as he removes your underwear. He bites back the urge to yelp from how bone chilling your touch is.
You hold your balance against him while shifting onto one knee, then the other, to step out of the soaked garment. "'Vry'thing hurts."
He hears you, knows you're hurting, but your panties, soaked and bunched up in his grip, make his cock twitch. The fabric is nowhere near his face, but your scent is dizzying; he wonders if they're only soaked from the snow, or yourself, too.
What stands between him and dirty thoughts is your fragile state; you need help, not him as⊠some horny creep.
Steve pushes past the tempting thoughts, for your sake.
"I know," he murmurs, heart aching, wishing he could take that pain away instantly. "It's gonna be okay, promise."
He guides you into the sleeping bag, eyes off and away from your figure out of respect. When you're settled, he rips his clothes off, save for his boxer briefs. One glance down his body and he's reminded how scarred he still is. He falters, swallowing thickly; what if you notice them? What if you're disgusted by him?
That's not like you, though; you've never been shallow like that.
Your teeth clatter together so loudly, it breaks him from those looming insecurities. With a deep breath, he finally slides in next to you.
Steve zips the sleeping bag up, arms hooking around your torso to pull you flush against him. He weaves his legs between yours, careful not to press his thigh against your core. He has to throw his thoughts as far away from you as possible; the last thing either of you need is a poorly timed hard-on.
He thinks of the time he broke his arm in sixth grade, falling off the seesaw at recess. Tries focusing on the concept of race cars and the specific tires they use. Forces himself to wonder how broccoli grows, or if it really matters to separate the dark garments from the lights when doing laundry.
That tangled trail of curiosity leads him to wonder what life outside of Hawkins must be like these days, and if they're forgotten to the rest of the world.
The last one's bleak, so he redirects to thinking about aquariums, and if fish sleepâ they sleep, right?
God, he really wished he paid more attention in school. Did they even talk about any of this stuff? What the hell does he care if race cars use specific tires?
Whatever.
It's a challenge to keep his thoughts on a steady path away from you, because every time you breathe, your bare chest pushes against his, and that'sâ no. Just no.
The plush of your breasts squish up against him, nipples poking through his chest hair and into him like an accusing finger, shaming him for fighting off a natural response to a naked figure entwined with his own.
Doesn't make it any easier that your breaths are shallow, because logically, he knows it's because you're freezing. But every so often, you make these faint gasps as you shiver that sound closer to pleasure than pain.
That's not the case, and he feels guilty for letting his mind wander that far.
Okay, focus. Think about⊠concrete. Sure. That. Must be fascinating to pour that shit for sidewalks andâ
"How come your underw- wear is on but not mine?"
Well, that's not fucking helping when you just out right ask it like that.
Steve's face burns up, rushing out, "Didn't wanna make you uncomfortable."
Your heart is pounding so viciously, he can feel the thumping against his own body.
Which, yeahâ you have hypothermia. Of course your heart is working overtime. Just from that. Only that.
He reaches outside the bag to throw a worn, knitted blanket over your bodies, hoping for extra warmth while he's zipping the bag back up.
"Please tell me this shit is helping," he murmurs, fighting the urge to gently rub your back; this isn't supposed to be some kind of cute, intimate moment. And rubbing to create heat isn't helpful for hypothermia.
He doesn't remember why, just that it's unsafe for a situation like this.
"S'helpin'," you shudder against his skin, face tucked into the curve of his neck. Your lips brush against one of his sensitive spots, and he gulps, praying you don't notice. "I sh- shouldn't have lef-f- ft."
Steve doesn't scold you, but he doesn't disagree. "I really wish you didn't." He shivers, nowhere near as violently as you have, but exchanging body heat with someone in this state isn't all rainbows and sunshine. "I wish I didn't let you go. I should've gone with you, or had you stay here while I went out."
The words ache with more desperation than he intends.
"I'm a b- bi- big girl, s'my choice," your body involuntarily twitches, rutting into his bulge.
"A-Â ahâ"Â Steve manages to swallow down the breathy moan before it can fill the van.
"Sor- sorry. Did I h- hurt you?"
He's quick to shush you, gently, rushing out, "I'm fine." One hand wanders to your head, delicately threading your damp hair through his fingers. "How are you feeling?"
"Fu- fucking cold."
"No shit," Steve dryly retorts. "You have hypothermia, dumbass."
You hum out what he thinks was a shaky hum. "Surprised y'even kn-know anything about i- it."
"At least something good came from me being a Boy Scout for one year," he snorts. "That, and I know how to start a fire... which, not very helpful while snowed into a van. Don't know much more than that."
You don't respond. Whenever he's shared something personal of his past, even just a passing comment, you groan and fuss about "learning Harrington lore against your will". The lack of that snarky response is just another sign of how unwell you're feeling.
Shifting cautiously, your arms bend slowly, snaking between the two of you. Steve's breath hitches, wondering what the fuck you're doing.
Your hands travel north, both to his relief and disappointment, cupping over your chest. "M'sorry, m- my tits hurt." And sure enough, the attention is brought to your stiff nipples, harder than minutes ago, brushing up against him through the gaps between your fingers.
Steve doesn't have the chance to panic, not when he fails to stifle a chuckle before it slips out. That comment was the last thing he expected to leave your lips.
"Be n- n-Â nice!"
"Sorry, sorry!" He relaxes against you again, tries not to dwell on how much of your figure he can feel against his. "Are you getting any warmer?"
"Why? You h- hate this?" Your tone is dry, but he can feel the curve of your smirk against his neck. "Want me to go back outside?"
The lighthearted energy drains quickly; Steve feels his heart drop just at the mere thought of you enduring the blizzard.
Like a fucking fool.
"Don't joke about that," he mutters, daring to speak aloud, "I thought you were dead."
The shrill, whistling wind draws out the lapse in conversation.
"⊠Didn't th- think you c- cared."
"IÂ do, it's justâ" Steve huffs, pausing. "We can talk about it when you're feeling better. Deal?" You nod slowly, sighing. "Do you think you could sit up? Just for a few seconds?"
You were feeling warmer, still cold, still aching, but nowhere near the severity you felt before your return. "Um⊠I g- guess?"
"Just hang tight okay? Where's your thermos?"
"S'up by th'cup h- holder," you nod to the front. As soon as Steve moves, you begin to harshly shiver again.
He's quick to snatch it, unscrewing the top to pour out whatever you had inside into it. The warm aroma hits him head on. "Hot cocoa? Damn, if I knew that, I woulda' stole some."
"You could h- have some f'ya' want."
"Maybe later, but you need to drink something warm." Steve slides a hand under your back, arm curling around to lift you upright. He tries to ignore the sleeping bag falling off your chest, leaving you exposed. "C'mon, just a few sips."
"N- no, m'cold, wanna get back in."
"I know, honey, I'm sorry." There it is again, a slip up without warning. Like it's natural, familiar.
You manage to sit up, resting against a crate on the shelf behind you. Reaching a shaky hand out, Steve gently pushes it aside. "I got you, try to keep still for me."
He eases the mug top to your lips, cautiously tilting it while you sip on the hot cocoa. It's slow, but Steve's relieved you're not at the severe stage, where you wouldn't be able to drink anything at all. "That's it, a little more⊠s'good for me."
Oh god. He's one step away from praising you with a 'good girl, and now is not the time or place for that.
"Promise it'll help," he assures, feeling horrible for dragging you out of the warm cocoon of the sleeping bag. Yet he's desperate to try everything, anything, as long as it brings your temperature back up.
You finish off the mug with a gasp. Steve takes it away, watching as that muted tone in your lips begin to fade. It's subtle, but it's a change for the better, nonetheless. A step in the right direction.
"Can't say th- that shit to me," you pant, forcing an airy, uneasy laugh. "I'm gonna start thinkin' y- you'reâ you like me, or something."
Oh, if only you knew.
"C'mere," Steve murmurs as he gently brings you close. Guiding you back into the sleeping bag, he slides in cautiously next to you, zipping it shut around the two of you. "Don't make this weird, okay?"
"Make wh- what weird?"
Arms winding around your waist, he reels you in, body flush against your own. It's like every goosebump on your skin brushing up along his he can feel. Every shiver runs out of you and into him, like an electrical current.
The gasp that leaves your lips is unexpected and sharp. "Fuâ fuck, Steve, m'so c- c- cold."
"I know, sweetheart." He tangles his legs between yours, large hand reaching up to cradle the back of your head. You bury your face into his shoulder, shivering violently. "Just stay close to me."
"M'tryin'," you whimper as your hips shift closer. If Steve didn't know any better, he'd think you were trying to rock your hips against him, as if you're aching for relief, release.
The airy, shattered, "oh, god", sure doesn't help his imagination either. His cock twitches again.
"You're okay," he reassures, not just for you, but for his filthy mind to chill the fuck out. When you roll your hips again, he seizes them, grip tightening to end the attempt. "Don'tâ hey." You huff as he firmly holds you in place. "Hey, listen to me. No sudden movements."
"S- sorry, jus'thought friction would help," your teeth chatter as you force you words through them. "⊠Oh my god. Wait. Oh my god, no, wait."
You sound mortified.
"What?" Steve defaults to panic once more. "What's wrong?"
"I- I swear to go- god I didn't mean it like that." You untangle yourself from him, limbs haphazardly knocking into his own with the limited space in the bag. "I justâ friction causes he- heat, and I didn'tâ I wasn't tr- tr- trying toâ"
He nervously chuckles, not at you, justâ well, shit. How should anyone react in a situation like this?
"S'okay, you're okay." The reassurance seems to help; you relax against him once more, still trembling from the cold in your bones, though. "Can't warm you up too quickly, it could make you feel worse."
"Well that's fu- fucking stupid."
He chuckles, taunting, "You're starting to sound more like yourself again." It's much more endearing than he wanted to sound.
There's no response, just your steady breaths in spite of your jitters. You hum, winding your embrace around his torso, burying your face into his neck again.
Steve's about to lose it; you've got to stop resting your lips on his skin.
Talk about something else. Anything.
"Hey⊠thanks for helping earlier," he mumbles. You lean back to meet his stare with a perplexed one of your own.
"Hm? Wi- with what?"
"The black ice," he clarifies. "I panicked and blanked out, forgot how to handle it. I could've fucked up real bad⊠could've wrapped us around a tree, or something."
"We still ended up in a ditchâ"
"Alive. It sucks, being stranded in the storm sucks, but we're alive, thanks to you."
You shake your head, cuddling closer to him, still shivering, still unable to shake the cold. It's not warm in the van anymore, but it'd be more tolerable if you weren't recovering.
"You know how to dr- drive this damn t- thing," you quip, shuddering and clinging closer to Steve. "S'like a fuckin'Â boat."
Steve laughs heartily, tightening his embrace around you. "Guess we make a pretty good team."
"When we're n- not trying to ki- kill each other."
Emboldened, Steve's lips brush against the top of your head; it's not quite a kiss, but it's enough to be noticed. Enough to mean something. They linger as he takes a deep breath, voice rumbling low against your scalp.
"⊠We don't have to fight all the time," he suggests, fingers skating along the length of your spine. You arch your back, pushing the hardened peaks of your nipples against his chest. He swallows down a moan. "We don't have to hate each other."
"S'jus'easier," you slur, though, he's not sure it's from the cold.
"Yeah? Why's that?" Face still buried into his shoulder, you shake your head. "No, c'mon," he hopes the low, gentle rasp in his voice is enticing. "You can tell me."
It's quiet for a moment, swirling gusts of wind providing filler noise among your shallow breaths.
"'Cus liking you means letting you in," you're shuddering as the van sways, wind strong enough to sneak into the drafty vehicle. "Letting you in m- me- means this is real, and that's just a set up to be let downâ be a let down to you, eventually."
He has to be hallucinating from the cold. Or maybe you're still delirious. There's no way you just said that.
"⊠What?"
Because since when do you care about letting him down?
"You've been hurt enough, I didn't want to add to that hurt." Steve feels you shift with a whimper, has to swallow back the cocky remark he'd make if you felt better. "Your heart's always g- gonna be elsewhere, anyway."
Steve would do anythingâ hike through this blizzard, move mountains, face a swarm of demo-batsâ if it meant he could use a time machine, return to the moment things shattered before they could flourish. He'd do anything to fix it all.
"Even when it was elsewhere, itâ" Your trembling brings him to a pause, a reminder how real this all is. After hoping for so long that you'd return, dwelling too much on the anger of you justâŠÂ leaving, fleeing so quietly, so abruptlyâ you're here, in his arms. "You were always in it, but I didn't want hurt you, either."
And look where that got the two of you.
Steve's stunned into silence by your confession, tumbling out in unstoppable waves.
You trail off with a huff, tensing up; Steve's unsure if the cold's at fault, or if teasing went too far. "It's hard to⊠to trust. It scares the hell out of me."
"Scares me too, but look at you. You're trusting now."
"It was that or freeze to death, Harrington."
"Still chose to trust me after everything between us." His voice softens, moving on autopilotâ courtesy of his heartâ as he cradles the side of your face. His cheeks grow warm as he whispers your name, just loud enough to be heard over the howling winds outside. "Thank you. For trusting me."
The pads of your fingers press into his skin as you tighten your hold around him. "Thanks for not letting me die."
We're not out of the woods, yet, he thinks. But you should be able to keep warm now.
"I used to hate that you couldn't relate to what Robin and I went through last summer," Steve's got no reason to hide this anymore. "Truth is, I was relieved you called out sick that day."
An aching warmth bleeds through his chest with the confession, one that he hopes is enough to warm you up, even a little.
Or, maybe that's just because Steve's bare chest is pressed up against yours, still generating heat like a human furnace for you.
"I still have nightmares, and Iâ" He chokes up, arms tightening around you. You return the squeeze with reassurance, leaving patience and silence for him. "Sometimes, in them, they're hurting you, too⊠and I- I can't do anything but watch."
It feels like is heart is caving in all over again; he had done so well ignoring the hurt, but nowâŠ
Now he realizes he only bottled it up, shelved it away for darker times.
And dark times have arrived; here you both are, trapped in a goddamn, broken down, radio station van in the middle of a blizzard.
"Then you just⊠you left. You stood me up. You were gone not even a month later. We were finally getting closeâ"
"And I f- fucked it up." A sigh rumbles out of Steve; he doesn't agree or disagree, just⊠acknowledges it. "This is gonna sound so dumb, but I feltâŠÂ guilty, for calling out that day. I should've been thâ"
"No. I mean it. It's a relief you never went through that shit. And then in the springâŠ" Except, you came back. Right after the destruction, but you came back. Colder, yet braver than you left. "I get it. I don't blame you for leaving. You were scared." He swallows thickly. "⊠But so was I."
Scared is an understatement.
He's feared for his life before, the year prior, and before that. He was scared for Nancy, hell, even Jonathan, the night they tried to trap the Demogorgon in the Byers' home.
He was terrified in the junkyard, plastering on a brave face for the kids. No way in hell would he let them down; he was gonna succeed or die tryingâ to Steve, no other choices existed.
He was convinced he'd die down in that cursed bunker with Robin, and if it weren't Erica and Dustinâ two childrenâ that anticipated fate would've played out to truth.
And the Mind Flayerâ Jesus Christâ that fuckin'âŠÂ thing. A grotesque terror on monstrous legs; too many damn legs, arms, everything, if you ask Steve. He can't think too hard about what exactly it was made up of, who specifically turned essentially into human jam andâ
Yeah. No. He really can't stomach it. Just like the nightmares of losing you leave him shaken for the rest of the waking day.
Most nights, Steve has to double, sometimes triple check the locks on the doors before he goes to sleep. He latches all the windows. Sometimes unlatches just to re-latch, jiggling the window's frame, just to be certain it's closed. Every room, every hallway, holds a night-light's subtle glow for peace of mind.
Peace of mind from what, exactly? A Demogorgon? Demodogs? The Mind Flayer? The Russian guards, and flayed former classmates? All this time later, he hasn't been able to pinpoint which exactly he wants peace from the most. They're all equally fucked up, all royally fucked him up.
Steve knows his efforts are not enough to stave off these fears forever. They never are.
And Vecna? He's still processing that. After all, it hasn't even been one year since it all happened.
Less than one year since Eddie died, slowly killing Dustin with each day that passes without him; the more Steve tries to be there for the kid, the more he's pushed away. It's taking a toll on Steve, trying to be mindful of Dustin's grieving, trying to remind this kid he's not alone.
Less than one year since Max technically, in clinical terms, died, for over a minute; even a second considered dead is way too fucking long, and for a kid her age? Too damn soon. If it weren't for El reviving her, the party would be in shamblesâ yet they're on the verge of crumbling while Max is in a coma, anyway.
If anything happened to any of these kids, it'd devastate the rest of them. It'd devastate anyone in this little, yet forever growing, found family Steve's tripped and fallen into years ago.
And you.
Youâ he can't even stomach the idea of your safety being threatened. It only circles back to the nightmares he still has of you. He fears one of these days losing you will come true, andâŠÂ andâ
It hits him like a nuclear missile, dead on.
He didn't want you to leave earlier, to go out into the storm, because he was afraid one of his greatest fears, losing you, again, would come true. This chance to fix everything, at least make peace with what never came to be, has been right in front of you both for months since you got home.
Instead, it's been spent stuck in a cycle of hate, giving and taking sharp glares and words only dripping in venom.
So much wasted timeâ
"Steve?"
Reality settles in around him again, eyes focusing on you, remorse taking hold of every thought crossing his mind.
Unexpectedly, even to him, Steve blurts out, "I'm sorry." When your brows furrow, the remorse floods out. "I- I'm sorry for not being honest from the startâ"
"You were trying to protect me, I get that now." He feels the tension dissolve out of you. "I'm sorry too." Your voice trembles, not from the cold this time. "Can we⊠start over?"
A smug smirk curls along his face. "Um⊠we can, but it'd be pretty awkward to start over like this."
"Oh my god, Steve."
"What? I'm just saying!" He chuckles with a shrug. "When we met, I had strawberry ice cream stains on my shirt, and I got, like, maybe three hours of sleep the night before. This seems incredibly different, considering we're both naked."
"You're not the one fully naked." You stifle laughter, rolling your eyes.
"Oh, what, I'm sorryâ did you want me to be blunt instead? Because I am really fucking sorry if I get hard." Flustered, he rambles as you blink up at him, wide-eyed. "Seriously, you keep rubbing against me like that and it's- I'mâ fuck."
Your hips are rolling into him again as the corners of your lips gradually quirk upward. "Okay," you say simply, not matching your devious smile.
"âŠÂ Okay?" Steve scoffs.
"I mean⊠it's not like you're the only one struggling here," you admit, brash and certain. "Can't tell you how wet I've been since you started holding me."
"Oh, trust me. I know." Steve bounces back, stifling a smug chuckle. "Felt it the whole time."
Mortification contorts its way into your face. You hide again, head falling forward to rest on his shoulder.
"Hey, nuh-uh, no hiding. I thought it was hot." His fingers trail down your spine, sweeping to your side. He rests his hand over the curve of your hip, drawing slow circles into your skin with his thumb. "⊠Still do."
A shrill, piercing whistle whirls past the van, leading in a wave of howling wind, rocking the van. The instant jostle nudges you against him completely, It taunts you and Steve as you dance around you feelings.
The van's frame sways and creaks as the blizzard continues. You shift, trying to get comfortable, until your thigh presses against Steve's bulge and he hisses under his breath.
"Fuck, shit, fuckâ"
Yeah. He's hard.
He tangles himself into you, thick thigh flexing against your slick heat. All carnal desires aside, he's sure fucking relieved to feel some part of you completely warm.
Thinking of being warm, and staying that way, leads him to speaking unfiltered. "Might not be the worse way to keep each other from freezing to death."
"Uh-huhâŠ" you sound breathy, the last of your animosity towards Steve long disintegrated by now. "S'good idea." A shiver down your spine sends your hips bucking forward; Steve's curious if it from the cold or not. "S- sorry, m'sorry, I keepâ"
Steve shushes you delicately. "Don't be sorry, take what you need."
Your thighs tighten around his, clit throbbing against him. Arousal builds onto his bare skin the more you drag your cunt against him.
"Just go slow, okay?" His reminder is tender, faces close enough to touch, breaths picking up speed. "Slow, slow, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere."
"Yeah butâ" your fingers hook under his waistband teasingly, breaths growing shallower. "Want you n- nowâ"
Steve grabs your hands, pulling them up within eyesight. He needs you clear-headed. "Hey, I mean it. We gotta be smart about this."
He doesn't expect you to frown, ego visibly wounded in your expression; what did you hear out of what he said?
"We don't have to do anything if you're not into it."
"No, no, I'mâ" Steve puffs his cheeks out, exhaling quickly. His arms rope you back in, pressing up against him with a gasp. "You were freezing to death less than an hour agoâ"
"Not to death."
"Only 'cause you came back before it was too late." And that he kept you stable, but he's not seeking recognition for that. His hands rise to cradle your cheeks, forcing you to look him in the eye. "Last thing we need is your heart over-exerting itself."
"But you're the one who suggestedâ" you collect your thoughts with a deep breath. "You're sending mixed signals, Steve. Do you want this or not?"
"I do, but I want you safe and warm. So, let me take care of you, alright?"
"OkayâŠ" Steve looks down as you trail off, noticing your mood shift. Concern draws your brows together, tugs your lips downward and hushes your voice to a whisper. A cold finger traces the scar around his neck, and he gulps. "When did this happen?"
He was dreading this, grateful you'd been so delirious while recovering that you didn't notice the freshly healed skin, taut and pinkâ now a little purple from the cold, he's sure; this kind of weather always promises to emphasize souvenirs of the past.
"Last year," he trembles; the more he focuses on trying to breathe steadily, the more he shakes. "⊠Bats."
"The same thatâŠ" He hears you hesitate, holding that one, brutal truth on the tip of your tongue, only to soften it for both of your sake. "Same ones that⊠that attacked Eddie?"
"Yeah, I guess." Steve shakes his head, "I don't know how I survived and he didn't." His voice drops, laden with guilt. "Kinda fucked up if you ask me."
"Do they hurt?" You ask so tenderly, sincerity woven within your words. It pricks hot tears in Steve's eyes, ones he blinks away quickly.
No one ever really asks Steve if he's okay. Not like this. Not when it comes to the Upside Down.
"Yeah," he croaks out. "Sometimes, yeah." Unprompted, he adds, "Not as much as the headaches, though."
"How often do you get them?" You ask, but Steve only shrugs. It's not enough to quell your concern. "SteveâŠ"
He doesn't need you to know just how bad it gets sometimes. The warning signs leading up to a flareâ like how his neck aches and stiffens, how his vision doubles, and the ringing in his ears only grows louder.
Steve doesn't want to worry you, or anyone, of the throbbing, consistent pain; how similar it feels to being cracked in the skull with a fist, something he's experienced more than onceâ one time too many. The agonizing throbbing that morphs into pounding, and sometimes he can feel it behind his left eye, like it's still swollen shut.
Sounds become unbearably sharp and jagged to his brain. Too much light enrages him. They're more than just headaches, he knows that. Yet he bottles it all up, because emotionally, he can't afford to not be okay. He has to show up for everyone else.
Acknowledging him, you hum softly; he's grateful you've never been one to push him too far on a subject he'd rather avoid. "Should I, umâ" you clear your throat awkwardly, "avoid them? The scars, I mean."
Not like this one's much easier to talk about.
Steve's shoulder's tighten while his breath hitches, sharp and obvious and shit, he wishes he caught that in time. That wish strengthens when you grimace.
"I'm sorry. That'sâ I'm not trying to be rude, just wasn't sure since sometimes they hurtâ"
"S'okay," he relaxes after a deep breath. "Don't worry about 'em."
You hum, tracing the one along his neck with your finger. The warmth left in the wake of your touch is another reminder he's safe with you.
It's when your fingertips trail up to his face, palm caressing his cheek before resting there, that his heart skips a beat. And when you gingerly sweep your thumb against his cheekbone, his breath hitches.
"Whenever your headaches start⊠you'll tell me, right?"
When that simple question, loaded with empathy and laced with tenderness, leaves your lips, something within Steve breaks.
"It's⊠it's okay, I can handle it on my own."
For the first time, those words aren't convincing enough to lie to himself.
"Steve," you whisper, head shaking as the color of your irises bore into the hazel of his. "You don't have to handle anything on your own."
It's so direct, so honestâ how can he even respond to that?
There's so much to sayâ how he'd always put the kids before himself, no questions asked. How he wants to do his part and keep everyone safe, during crawls and beyond. How his trauma, chronic and relentless, stays bottled up and shelved away, only to have manifested into a physical curse on every nerve ending in his entire beingâ and he still keeps it hidden away.
The past you narrowly escaped while he was beaten to hell and back, that's not yours to carry, it's his.
"I won't let you handle it alone," you whisper, challenging his unspoken thoughts. "Not anymore."
Feelings for you that he forcefully sunk long ago, rush to the surface and consume Steve. It's overwhelming, and words aren't enough; he surges forward, his lips finding yours while you squeak with surprise.
Steve breaks away, presses his lips to your jaw, kisses down your neck while his hands caress the shape of your figure. His touch is gentle, yet sturdy. Firm, yet sweet.
You bite back a moan, teeth pinning your bottom lip down, but you still shiver. He knows he's making you feel good. If you won't say it, he certainly feels it in the way you grab him, anywhere you can find purchase; his hips, his arms, his back, leaving behind little divots from your finger tips, dug into his skin.
He moves lower, one hand pausing on your breast, kneading it tenderly, kissing down your chest to pause at the other side. His lips gently lingering against the sensitive, pebbled peak is all it takes to begin unraveling you.
The gasp that slips out is one beyond what Steve's dreams could even imagine. His cock kicks as he flicks his tongue on your nipple.
"Shit, SteveâŠ"
He sucks softly, a distinct pop! filling the confined space when he pulls back. He looks up with a thread of spit tethering him to your skin, and you look wrecked already.
He can't even wrap his mind around how devastatingly fucked out you'll look when he's through with you.
"Coulda' kept each other warm all this time," Steve breathes, kissing across the valley between your breasts to the other side. His tongue flits out, lazily teasing your nipple while tweaking and pinching the other. "You just had to be stubborn, huh?"
"Only 'cause you- youâ a- ah, fuckâŠ" your hips roll up into his, cunt grazing against his clothed cock, sticky and warm and slick and godâŠÂ if you weren't so fragile right now, Steve would love to ruin you immediately.
If, you know, you were into that.
His cock twitches as his mind drifts, curious as to what the hell you're even into, and if he'll be lucky enough to have more chances to find out.
The two of you just have to survive this night first.
"'Cause IÂ what?" He should be a little softer, a little kinder, but the edge is returning, and only because of your wanton, needy squirming. "Finish the sentence."
You gasp as Steve nudges his knee between your legs, parting them to flex his thigh against your cunt. You're soaked enough to glide yourself effortlessly against him.
Except, Steve grabs your hips, hovering above you while pinning them in place.
"Finish. The. Sentence."
You clamp your legs tight around the one against your core, but he plants his hands on your thighs, pushing them apart to admire your glistening cunt.
"I wouldn't h- have left if you weren't so m- mean!"
"Yet you're a mess right now." He withdraws, only to use his thumbs to part your folds. "Look at you, dripping and pretending like you're not into this."
Steve licks his lips, one thumb casually gliding up from your hole through your folds, resting lightly over your clit. You jolt from even the slight pressure.
"Bet you were this wet before you left."
Your brows knit together. "IÂ wasn't."
"No?" He taunts you, pad of his thumb circling your clit, so close to where you want him, yet so deliberately distant. "Hm⊠you sure?" Your hips twitch while you gasp, inflating his ego as he simpers. "Seemed like earlier you were pretty fuckin' soaked."
"From t- the snow!" The more flustered you become, the more Steve's confidence grows, bordering onto being cocky. "Jesus, I was outside in a blizzard, in case you forgot."
Steve laughs. He laughs; it's cruel and runs straight to your throbbing clit, adjacent to his teasing touch.
"I don't think so, sweetheart." With a smug grin, he adds, "Doubt the snow would make you smell this damn good either."
"Steve!" You gasp, taken aback. The line's almost tacky, straight out of a bad porno, but Jesus Christ, he can't help himself around you.
"In factâ" he reaches out of the bag, retrieving the garment in question. Reservations long buried under the snow, he brings the pair to his face, eyes rolling back as he huffs in your scent. A guttural groan tears through him, while you're left speechless. "Been wanting to do that all fuckin' night."
Jaw hanging ajar, you whisper, "Holy shit, Harrington."
The smug expression falters, "Too much?"
"No," you breathe out, "fuck, no."
Relief revives his smirk. "Good. I'm far from done with you."
Trailing wet, painfully paced kisses down your body, Steve begins unzipping the sleeping bag; he'd rather not suffocate in that while going down on you. If anything keeps him from breathing tonight, he prays it's only your slick cunt smothering his face.
He's gentle, mindful, caressing your sides slowly to keep you warm. It softens the mean streak he just held out for your sake.
Parting your legs, he glances up to you. "Doing okay?" His lips drag along the plush of your left thigh, gentle, pointed kisses trailing closer to your core. His strong grip digs into your thighs before switching to the right one. "Need to hear you, honey."
"Mhm, yeah, I'mâ" Steve parts your slit, moaning softly as he takes you in. "M'good. Promise."
"Good," he husks, leaving a chaste, open mouth kiss over your core. "Don't wanna neglect this pretty pussy."
You huff with an affectionate eye roll. "Swear to god, Steve, if anyone else said shit like this to me, I'd leave instantly."
"So what you're saying isâŠ" Steve's lips linger on your folds, tongue teasingly flitting out, barely meeting your clit. Your legs twitch while you whimper. "I'm the exception?"
"D- don't let it get to your head, Harâ" Sharply, you gasp as he spreads your core apart with his thumbs, only to spit on your puffy clit. "Fuck."
He leans in, mouth working languidly as his lips meet your glistening slit. It's already written in stone that the taste of anyone else won't ever compare; you've effortlessly wrecked him.
And he's already ruined you with each drag of his tongue, leading to your clit to suckle tenderly. He looks up, hoping to see you slowly unravel, and he does; your eyes roll back in time while you clench around nothing, rolling your hips to chase his tongue.
The soft sounds from his mouth cause you to throb, feeling every hum and groan, hearing him lave at your arousal. Hooded stare weighed down with lust, he continues watching you fall apart on his tongue.
Steve's moans tremble through you, with gravelly murmurs in between; every oh shit, and fuck, and little praise in between is enough to roll waves of heat through you. He must be able to feel it.
"See? You just needed to get warmed up." Your hips jolt against his mouth as he laps at your clit, while a thick finger circles your hole. He grins smugly. "Be good for me, and I'll keep you warm."
Your clit throbs against his tongue, and Steve moans. It's almost as pornographic as the sound he let out minutes before. His arms hook around your thighs, tugging you flush against his mouth.
"Is this all it takes to shut you up?"
Though drained and still trembling, your fingers tangle through his hair, pulling to trap his mouth against your pussy. He notices the light pressure in your grasp, mindful of his mention of headaches earlier.
"I dunno, I- I should be asking you the same damn thing."
The switch is subtle, tiny, but it's enough to send Steve's eyes rolling back into his head, whimpering as he bucks into the floor of the van.
"OhâŠ" you grin deviously. "You're into that, huh?"
The ounce of power, that microscopic switch, falls apart instantly as Steve leans back. Warmth withdraws along with him, your hands fall away, and all pleasure ceases. He slides two fingers up the edge of your folds, spreading them apart to spit directly onto your clit; you twitch and gasp.
"Hey!"Â Exasperated, you yelp, "Why'd you stop?!"
Steve doesn't answer, only runs his hands along the back of your thighs, gently nudging your legs to fold closer to yourself. He reaches your hips, pushing up to throw a nearby blanket underneath your back.
"Whatâ what are youâ" His mouth is back on you, tongue delving into your slit, running around your clit before puckering his lips. "Ohmyfuckinggodâ Steveâ"
You gasp when he mouths sloppily at your cunt, making out with it, taking his time to explore this part of you he's already dreamed so much of.
This part, this sweet, tight, hot part of you that he's fucked his fist to the thought of almost every night since you've moved home.
Not even his wildest dreams could've conceived what you really taste like. Your scent. How soft you are. And pretty, so goddamn pretty.
And as your hardened personality thaws out, the real youâ the one Steve's always pined overâ finally melts through.
He's missed you. So, so much.
The obscene sounds, all of the slurping and suckling to make you fall apart, fill the van. Walls clenching around his fingers as they barely enter you, your body sucks him in greedily.
"Jesus Christ," Steve breathes, getting sloppier as you get louder. He angles his fingers differently, and with the way he's got you positioned, you're blindsided by an orgasm shattering through you.
"Oh my god, oh my godâ" he brushes up against your sweet spot, triggering your legs to shake around his head. "Fuck!"
Your high's barely over as he kisses your inner thighs, eyeing up your puffy, dripping folds.
"Got one more in you?" His lips and chin glisten with your essence in the low light. You nod breathlessly, hand over your chest as it rises and falls rapidly. His demeanor softens. "Hey, look at me."
Dazed, your eyes flutter open. They lock with his, full of concern.
"Should we stop?" You shake your head, but the silent conformation isn't enough. "Need you to say it if you want it," there's a flash of dull pain as he nips at your inner thigh, kissing away the sting immediately. His hand pulls away, leaving you empty and needy.
"I- I want it."
"WantâŠÂ what?"
Exasperated, you whine while throwing your head back, "Oh my god, Steve."
"C'mon, you can tell me." He begins taunting you, "Usually you have no problem running that mouth of yours."
"You're so fucking insufferable sometimes, I sw- swear to god." The tremble in your voice is more from aftershocks than the cold.
Even when you were nice, you had an edge, and he missed that, too.
Steve crawls over you, nose nudging against your own. His fingers feather and tease along your slit, retreating as you buck your hips to chase his touch.
"There she is," chuckling, he slips a finger back into you, leaning down to murmur against your lips, "There's my girl."
As you gasp, he takes the chance to kiss you, really kiss you this time. Your back arches while he pumps into your slick heat. Lips parted against your own, slotted together, tasting yourself on his tongue while he licks into your mouthâ it's all so goddamn dizzying for the both of you.
You break apart when you palm him over his boxers, rendering Steve speechless for a moment.
"Who knew that'd shut you up so easily too," you snicker, giving a gentle squeeze to his bulge, eliciting a sweet gasp from him. "Fuck, Steve. You'reâŠ"
Cheeks heating up to a rosy pink, he freezes, eyes darting down between your bodies, then back to you. "What? What's wrong?"
"Nothing! Nothing's wrong. I- I justâŠ" Keeping an airy touch, you trace a finger along his cock. He whines pathetically, head falling forward onto your shoulder. To muffle his sounds, he mouths at your skin. "You're soâŠÂ big."
He sighs; yeah, he should've expected that.
"It's not a bad thing! No part of you is bad!" You're tumbling into a nervous ramble. "That stuff doesn't matter anyway, y'know, size and whatever. I just- I don't knowâ" you clear your throat with an awkward laugh, rushing out, "Idon'tknowifyou'llfit."
Steve blinks as the words sink in.
Oh.
"Hey, shh, s'okay," he chuckles softly, confidence flowing back. "We can try, if you want. But there's no pressure."
"I wanna, I really want to, it'sâ I'mâ youâ"
He cuts you off with a kiss. There's a soft hum reeled out of you, shaping his lips into a smirk against your own. It's short and sweet, resting his forehead on yours as you break apart.
"One step at a time, okay?"
He's back between your legs as before, allowing you both to relax as he tries to take this slow, almost at a lazy pace, but that lasts all of five seconds.
Because one more taste of you, and Steve's a fucking goner.
Steve juts his face into your cunt, tapering his tongue to fuck into you as you're grinding onto his face. He grants your wordless wish, sinking a finger into you again. In search of that sweet, sacred spot, he curls it, grazing somewhere inside that makes hips rock with desperation while you cry out.
"Harder," he grunts into your core, the rumble of his order going straight to your clit without direct touch. He yanks you closer to his faceâ as if it's even possible at this pointâ and his gaze travels away from you, rolling to the back of his head, groaning as you're the only taste on his tongue. In way too deep to speak, he just hums with satisfaction, laced with an air of praise.
Licking into you, the strong bridge of his nose nudges against your clit as it throbs. You buck forward accidentally, but he happily accepts, burying his face between your thighs. He slides another finger into you and smirks as your legs begin to quiver.
"SteveâŠ" You cover your mouth, but he yanks your hand away, while leaning back to spit onto your cunt again.
In between flits and laves of his tongue, he husks, "Wanna hear you again." The vibrations of his gravelly voice are what send you to the edge, but his tender encouragement is what seals the deal. "It's just us, honey. C'mon," he coaxes. "Lemme hear those pretty sounds you make."
Steve works overtime, meticulous in the speed he pumps his fingers, while your essence drips down his hand. The curls and flattening of his tongue between your folds, lapping up every drop you have to offer. Eventually rubbing his nose against your clit while he both tongue and finger fucks you simultaneously.
Bliss rolls through your body, luring out whimpers of his name and babbles of praise.
"Steveâ" you gasp, back arching up as your tangled fingers anchor him to you. "Fu-Â oh my god, fuckâ!"
You tremble, you gush, you unravel at the seams, and he'd keep doing this, and only this, all night if you'd let him. Watching you fade into such a fucked out state has his cock throbbing, sandwiched between himself and the van's floor.
Steve feels sticky; that much he expected. But⊠his boxers are damp, tacky against his skin, along with his tummy, where the tip of his cock lay snug under the waistband.
Oh, no.
"So, uhâŠ" he kisses your core, smirking as it clenches around nothing. Kissing your thigh, he peers up through his lashes at you. "⊠How hard is it to wash cum out of a sleeping bag?"
Dazed, you're still smiling, dopey and giddy and sighing, "Mmm, dunno. Can't be that difficultâ" your eyes pop open before you study Steve, still between your legs. "âŠÂ Why?"
"No reason, really, justâ I'm just curiousâ"
"Steve."
"M'yeah?" His eyes shift away for a second, guilty.
"Were youâ oh my god."
"What?!"
A taunting, victorious smirk comes to life. "Did you hump the fucking floor?"
"Well, when you put it like thatâŠ" Steve cringes, blushing intensely. "Kinda?" Your playful stare narrows down at him. "It's not like I was trying to! It justâ Iâ youâ" he groans, burying his face into the plush of your inner thigh.
The embarrassment's worth it to hear your laugh, genuine and breathy woven into your comedown. "Better on the damn bag than the actual rug."
He could fall asleep here, so cozy and warm between your legs. You card your fingers through his soft hair, gingerly scraping along his scalp, earning his content hum.
Steve lifts his head to be met with your longing stare, soft, weary smile. It's impossible to hide his own smile. "What?"
"Come back up," you shoot out grabby hands. "M'cold."
"Oh," he snorts, crawling back into your arms. "Is that all I'm good for?"
"Nah, your tongue is pretty great, too."
Rolling his eyes, a smile peeks out as he zips the bag back up, cuddling close to you. Your leg swings over his hip and he reels you in. Fatigue settles in, and it's not long before you're drifting off.
You're not cold anymore, with most symptoms finally fading or completely dissipated; he figures it's safe to sleep. Hell, he could use the rest, too.
It's not until the first, faint snore, that he realizes his goddamn, sticky boxers are still on, and he doesn't have the heart to move you.
A little discomfort is worth it if you're safe and sound in his arms, but⊠Jesus Christ, this is going to be one long fucking nap.
Steve's unsure when the two of you shifted in your sleep, but with the limited space in the bag, you've ended up spooning him.
It's⊠kinda nice. He's never been the little spoon before, not with anyone he's ever cuddled with.
By some higher power or sheer, dumb luck, you're warmâ fucking finally. You're clinging onto him from behind and nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.
Steve's breath hitches when your lips graze his neck. He chokes back a whine as you brush your soft figure against his back.
He gently murmurs your name into the dark while your arms tighten around his torso. You hum in return, soft and content.
Splaying out your fingers, they creep down his body, teasing around the waistband, dipping just below the elastic of his briefs.
"Mmâ" Steve bites back some kind of pathetic sound. "Baby, what're'y'doin'?"
The pet name blooms heat under your cheeks. He hears you hum, feels you shrug. Your fingers sink a little lower, brushing up against the head of his cock.
"S'okay?"
"It- yeah, butâ" Steve gasps when your thumb sweeps over the slit on his tip, still tacky from when he came in his boxers earlier. Now, on top of that, arousal weeps his slit on command by your touch.
"But?"
Your hand begins to retreat, until Steve grabs it, shoving it toward the base of his cock. His hips buck into your palm, groan rumbling deep from his throat.
Whether it's because Steve's been touch starved, or just really, really into you (both. it's totally both), your fingertips tracing down his shaft cause him to twitch.
He can feel himself pulsate into your palm as your grip winds around him. You only pump once, twice, three times, and he's quick to begin unraveling.
"I'm not gonna last if you keep doing that," Steve whines, bucking into your fist. "I can'tâ ah⊠f- fuckâ" he grumbles, forcing out, "Iâ dammit, I can't afford to come in my pants again. I only have one pair!"
"Then take 'em off," you giggle. "Need you in me."
Any other circumstance, Steve would allow the teasing to drag on, but he can't take any more tension. He flips over to lean above you, switching positions; you're the little spoon now, and you're flustered from the sudden change.
As you roll to your left side, you lean on your elbow to prop yourself up. Steve hastily plucks a condom from his wallet, still in the crumpled, damp jeans he discarded earlier and within reach.
You keep your legs bent as Steve settles behind you, backside on full display to him. Glancing over your shoulder, you've got a perfect view of him, already reveling in the way he's struggling to keep himself together while rolling the condom down his length.
Hand at the thick base of his cock, he drags the ruddy tip between your folds, teasing your clit before catching at your entrance. He repeats the taunting motion, smirk building with each whimper and whine you set free. One last drag through your slick slit, Steve rests the head at your entrance, pushing in only a little bit.
"Still okay?" He asks, eyes flitting to yours. One might think he sounds groggy from a nap, but he's just pussy drunk already.
"Yeah, mhm," your breathy reply makes his cock kick in his hand and against you. "Ju- just go slow, okay?"'
Steve leans down, planting his lips on your forehead. "Promise I will."
And he does; inch by inch, he slides into you, stretching you out to a limit you've never reached before. In awe, he watches himself disappear inside of you, breath hitching the further he goes.
"Fuckâ fuck, you'reâ" his eyes roll back, twitching against your tight, warm walls. Hips tilting, you push your ass back to help him ease in. All it does is make Steve a total wreck. Pathetically, he strains out through bated breath, "âŠMight need a minute."
"Yeah?" The teasing edge he secretly loves so much is returning; a sign you're feeling more like yourself. "You look like you could use ten."
"Keep it up," he huffs, "you're gonna need a few days 'til you can walk again."
Steve's hips reel back, dragging out torturously slow as you banter on. He leisurely slides back in, stretching you out. Again, he pulls out, even slower this time.
"We talkin' business days? 'Cause tomorrow's the weekend, and I'd love to not be in recoveryâ" He slams into you, bottoming out in one thrust. "â Christ, Steve! What theâ"
Fully retreating, his shaft caresses your silky, slick walls. Fingers wrapping around the base of his cock, he teasingly glides the tip of his cock through your folds, dipping into your entrance.
With each push back, he pulls out; your desire is only met with taunting, dangling bliss just in reach.
"You done talking logistics yet?"
Though your jaw falls open to quip back, only a gasp tumbles out. With another snap of his hips against yours, he fills you again.
That stretch isn't dizzying on one end only; Steve has to gulp down steady breaths to relax. He's wanted this, wanted you, for years now.
No way is he fucking this up now with a pitifully swift finish.
"N'you were worried you couldn't take me," he patronizes, yet your walls clenching around him mercilessly wipe the smug grin off his face. "Jesus fuckin' christ."
"Maybe you can't take me," you dare to challenge him. The teasing ignites something deep within, and, well, you're the one who started a fire you most likely can't extinguish.
Steve lifts the leg closest to him to rest it against his torso. You roll a little more onto your back as he straddles your leg against the floor; similar to missionary, but the angle hits so sinfully as he sinks back in.Â
Then, without mercy, void of warning, he relentlessly pounds into you.
Already at a loss for words, all you have to offer are sharp gasps. The plush of your body bounces with each of his thrusts, enticing his grip of one hand to dig into your hip.
What he doesn't expect is your hand to glide down your form, conforming to your curves until your fingertips brush over his knuckles.
Steve's breath hitches, hips stuttering with a faltering pace. Hesitantly, he laces his fingers between yours, and to his surprise, your grip doesn't falter.
It tightens.
Just like the choke-hold his feelings for you have on his heart.
"Don't get sappy on me now," Steve teases, fighting off his own emotions. His eyes flicker down to your hands intertwined, cock twitching inside you when you tighten your hold on him.
The gesture is small, but his heart flutters; what's meaningful to Steve is something you're probably not even thinking twice about. He rolls his hips against you, slow and deep, hoping to distract from his feelings.
"Wouldn't drâ oh!" You gasp, eyes rolling back as he hits the spot that makes you weak. He hears you murmur his name, strung together with expletives under your breath. "W- wouldn't dream of it."
Fog blankets the windows as each thrust rocks the van on its frame. Sweat beads at your brow, and there's relief found in the sight. You feel so warm, only reminding him mere hours ago you were freezing to death.
But you're here, underneath him, closer than he ever imagined to be outside of his dreams. You're here, warm, coherent, safe.
Safe because of him. Alive, because you chose to trust him.
That plucks at his heartstrings, too.
"Steve?"
Your voice is breathy, but concern is laced throughout, tugging him back into the present. He locks eyes with you, but you're blurry. He registers your hand extending to rest on his cheek, instinctively leaning into your tender touch.
"Hey, slow down," you swipe your thumb across his cheek, and it glides against his skin with ease. Too much ease. "Baby, stop for a second. You're crying."
Baby.
Anytime he's been called that, it never felt right. But hearing it from your lips is a whole different story.
Wait, did you say he was crying?
"Sorry, IâŠ" he trails off, glancing away and kissing your palm, panting heavily against it. "M'okay."
"Steveâ"
"No, I swear. I'm justâ" he shudders out a breath, one with relief. "I'm glad you're okay."
"So much for not getting sappy," you tease, but when Steve only halfheartedly smiles, you fall back into the energy he has. "Hey, I'm not going anywhere. I'm okay."
"I know." He nods, hair flopping in his face. "I know, I know that. I know."
Maybe if he repeats it enough, he'll believe it.
"Stâ"
He cuts you off abruptly with a kiss, insatiably slotting his lips against yours. His tongue runs along your bottom lip, silently pleading for more. When you oblige, parting your kiss-swollen, wind-bitten lips, he groans, thrusting without warning into you again.
You break the kiss reluctantly, grabbing his face. "Steve. You shouldâ"
"I'm fine, I mean it," he whispers against your lips, sloppily rocking into you. "I'm okay. Promise."
And, really, he is, he just didn't think those emotions would sucker punch him right now.
You gasp again as he hits your sweet spot, eyes falling out of focus into a dazed stare. "M'gonna cum," you rasp out, staving off a strangled moan. "Steve, I'mâ Iâ"
He unsheathes himself from you, and it pains him to do so, whimpering as the chill of the air around erases your warmth. He glances down to your cunt, watching it clench around nothing.
"Why'd you do that?" You're breathless as you manage to ask, and the heartbroken look on your face almost tempts Steve to give in. Instead, he runs a finger through your folds, dripping and enticing as his touch drags over your throbbing clit. "Oh my god, this is the second time tonight you've done that!"
"M'not letting you finish that easy," he teases.
You whine, tossing your head back against the worn pillow, now damp with sweat. He restrains himself from splitting you open again, ignoring how needy his cock is, throbbing, red, and leaking at the tip.
"Up," he orders, throwing the sleeping bag off your tangled forms. Eager for more, you sit up, a little too quickly for his liking. Immediately his tone softens with concern, "Okay, wait. Careful, slowâ Don't need you passing out."
Steve's hand finds your cheek, lips planting on yours, kissing you so sweetly. He smiles against your lips before he rolls a blanket up while nodding to the carpet. "You okay on your knees?"
"Okay?" You climb onto all fours, teasing, "I'm pretty fuckin' great on my knees."
Steve shakes his head, though his smile doesn't fade, "Jesus Christ, and I had the bad lines?" He places the blanket under your tummy, hiking your hips up with the extra support. "That help?"
It's a small gesture, one he probably doesn't think twice about, but it sure sticks with you anyway. "Uh-huh." You wiggle your ass, impatiently eager to be filled again.
His large hands slide over the curve of your backside, squeezing and kneading the doughy flesh. Your core glistens with arousal, practically begging for indulgence.
And Steve? He's in a trance, mouth on you for the third time tonight; he can't get enough of you. No one has ever tasted like you. No one's ever felt as soft as you, been as soaked as you. No one sounds like you, or shows the tiny yet impactful levels of intimacy you do with him.
No one's like you. No one could even compare.
"FuckâŠ" he lowly sighs out, nose nudging between your folds. "Didn't think you'd get this wet again."
"Iâ" You cut yourself off with a strangled gasp as Steve's tongue flits out, curling at your entrance, but not quite dipping in. "Hhhohmygod."
Thick fingers drag through your folds as he pulls back, teasing in circles around your throbbing clit, never touching it directly. You push your ass back, but he grips your hip firmly, holding you still.
"Steve,"Â you whine.
"I know, I know," he murmurs, leaning in to suck crudely on your clit, one final time. Lining up with your entrance, one hand roams to your hips, the other, guiding himself into you. "Gonna take real good care of you, honey."
You're already clenching with a gasp. "Can't be sayingâ a- ah!" Steve nudges the tip into you, barely past the head's flare when you whine out. Sinking in, the delicious stretch lures you both under its spell. "S- sayin' sweet shit to me like th- that."
"I mean it," he groans, eyes rolling back as your tight heat envelopes him again. "Every damn time, too."
"What, this isn't a h- heat of the moment kinda th- thing?"
"Not even close, sweetheart." He digs his grip into the plush of your ass, slowly entering you again. Hypnotized, he watches himself disappear inside of you with each thrust. "Jesus ChristâŠÂ suckin' me right in."
You nudge back into him. Steve chokes on his breath as your ass slams into him. "I- I need more."
"Yeah?" Thumbs on your lower back circle softly on your skin. He watches the goosebumps rise with satisfaction. "How do we ask for more?"
"Jesus fuckin'â"Â irked, you grumble. You slump against the pillows beneath you, whining, "Please."
"PleaseâŠÂ what?"
"Steve, I s- swear to godâ"
"Go ahead," he juts his chin out, smirk strong as he feels a power trip within reach. He wishes you could see how smug he is from there. In a slow retreat, he drags himself out of you, leaving you empty, cold, miserable. "Keep up the attitude, we'll see what happens."
"You're such aâ" Steve slams back into you, knocking a cry from your lungs. His cock kicks against your tightening walls. "Oh, fuckâŠ" You clap a hand over your mouth, but Steve yanks it away.
He pins that arm behind your back, thrusting hard and deep.
"Such a what?"
"Nothing. Sh- shut up an' fuck me already." When he doesn't move, you breathe out reluctantly, "âŠÂ please?"
Steve snaps his hips against your ass, bottoming out within you. The sudden stretch shoves a cry out from the back of your throat.
"Aw, see?â He drags himself out, tauntingly slow. âNot so hard to ask for what you need, huh?" He thrusts again, sinking in to the hilt, "Thaaaaaat's my girl." He moans, rumbling deeply as he fills and stretches you all over again.
 The condescending comment should be that, only that, but instead your breath hitches. It's one that unexpectedly makes Steve's heart jump, his stomach flip; he wonders if you feel the same.Â
"IâŠÂ Yours?"
 Though you can't see him in this position, Steve's eyes flicker away, tongue darting out the corner of his mouth as he tries focusing on fucking you instead.
"Mhm, ifâŠ" He groans when your free hand reaches between your thighs, underneath you both to grip his balls and massage them. "Oh, shit, honey⊠s- so goodâŠ"
Fatigue still rests heavy in your limbs, and even with the pillow supporting underneath, you begin to sag down to the floor. It's not much help that you're not holding your own balance anymore.
"Hang on, I got ya'." It's such a basic phrase handled with care, passion coupling with his actions; a strong arm winds around your waist as his thrusts slow. He hoists you back into his lap, kneeling back on his heels while you're sat back onto him.
He moves again, and you cry out from the new angle, feeling him even deeper than moments before. It's almost toointense; your trembling legs are a sign of that.
"Hey, hey, shhh," Steve kisses your neck softly, leading up to your jaw. "Need a minute?" You shake your head, breaths rapid and shallow. "Wanna stop?"
"God, no," you nearly sob, tightly clenching around his cock, almost to keep him inside you.Â
"Okay, okay." He kisses your cheek, lips lingering against you as he demands gently, "Tell me what you need."
"Y- you."
Steve chuckles, nuzzling his nose against your jawbone, unable to keep his lips off of you. If this is the only time he has you, he wants to kiss every inch he can reach.
"I'm right here."
Your lips part, but your breath is taken away with each thrust; you can only manage a nod while you whine and gasp.
The smell of sex hanging heavy above you both, the plap plap plap of skin slapping on skin, filling the van alongside your filthy moans; the two of you could put a porn studio to goddamn shame.
And then, there's the mouth on Steve among all of this.
"This pussy all mine?" His head falls back with a throaty groan, hips twitching off-key as embers smolder low in his belly, a fire that's always been easy to build off of.
It's only fair to match his energy.
"DunnoâŠ" You turn your head as he leans over your shoulder, holding you flush against him while relentlessly, sloppily fucking into you. "This cock all mine, Harrington?" You burst into giggles among the breathy sighs. "Got me saying the dumbest shit, that's h- how much I like you."
He doesn't just twitch inside of you, he kicks, with little room to move within your tight walls. The whimper that pairs is one too delicious to ever imagine once, just once.
No, he'll never get enough of you. Not now. Not ever.
"S'all yours, honey," his nose prods into your cheekbone when he kisses the round, soft side of your grin. Huffing and puffing, thrusting into you relentlessly, he adds, "M'all yours."
Steve drives his cock deep within your cunt, dizzy as the stretch barely lets up. The fingers gripped around your chin ease up, two teasing at your bottom lip, tracing it softly. You're so fucked out already, it doesn't register what he's trying to accomplish. Not until he pushes them past your lips. That's when you take him in.
Even just two fingers are thick enough to softly gag you, while your tongue licks and laves at his digits. Warm and wet, you leave him a wreck as he quietly imagines fucking your mouth instead.
God, he hopes this isn't a one time fling; he wants you like this all the time.
"Fuck, you're unreal."
You try and fail to whimper his name around his fingers, drooling onto yourself and his hand.
Steve's fingers slip away, hands sliding down your neck. He loosely holds, gives a gentle squeeze, pushing you right up to the edge. You lean into his palm, tightening around him as you give into trust. His thumb caresses the side of your neck
"St- Steve, m'gonnaâ Iâ" his other hand finds your clit, coaxing you to fall into bliss with a steady, tender touch.
"C'mon, come for me," he husks in your ear while his own thrusts stutter, cock pulsing as he follows you into a shared high. He slurs out, "Thas'it. Fu- fuckâ"
He spills into you, and you gush around him, yet it's so much more than that. There's a closeness you've craved, finally satiated as you're intertwined and losing yourselves in well-overdue bliss.
Trying to anchor yourselves to one another, there's desperate grasping in tandem with sounds rooted in indulgence. You've got your arm curled behind to tangle your fingers through his hair. Steve's greedily planting his fingerprints everywhere he can reach, digging pressure into every muscle and curve. You pull, he squeezes; the two of you claim one another through frantically passionate touches.
Beyond the lust, this is what you've always longed for with Steve; even if it didn't pan out the way either of you wanted, maybe it was needed to all fall into place.
Wrapped around one another, sweat still drying, smell of sex finally fading, the two of you revel in the afterglow together. Any wallsâ built with years of spite, grudges, and lossâ between you have been demolished.
That doesn't ease Steve's nerves, though.
"Would youâŠ" Steve trails off as self doubt's choke hold tightens on his heart. You lift your head, chin resting on his chest as your eyes find his.
All animosity in your gaze vanishes; he never thought he'd see the day.
"Would you wanna, uh, go out?" Like he didn't just rail you into oblivion, shyness creeps in. He braces himself for rejection, and maybe this question should've waited until after you're dug out from the snow. "Like, on a date, I mean."
Eager, you tease, "Promise I won't stand you up this time."
"Not like you can leave town this time anyway."
Though you scoff, it's playful. There's a smile he never imagined he'd see again, paired perfectly with your sincere laughter that reassures him.
The light in your eyes that radiates a soothing warmth, like spring sunshine on his skin, is back.
"Not sure I'd leave if I even had the chance," you admit. "Not without you."
And the sincerity in those words, it comforts him. Grounds him. For once, just once, the two of you could have something stable, constant, that isn't a threat to your lives.
There's a comfortable silence between you; the blizzard's howling gusts don't sound so lonely and hollow anymore.
"Might be smart to get dressed before the morning." Steve grimaces, reaching between his legs to slide the condom off. "⊠and clean up first."
"You would ruin the moment with something like that," you groan as he ties it off, sliding an arm out of the sleeping bag to throw it into a small trash bin nearby. "Besides, we're warm and cozy, andâ" he smirks, reaching for the zipper next while you whine. "Ugh, no, c'monâ don't open it!"
Steve shrugs, amused. "Then you can explain to whoever ends up rescuing us why we're naked in the middle of aâ"
"Okay, okay!"Â You grumble, stretching over Steve to zip the bag open. Begrudgingly, you shimmy out, rushing to grab the emergency box for clothes.
Despite your protests, Steve helps you get dressed as you grumble over the soreness, no longer numb from the cold. With teamwork and grace, you're back in warm, dry clothes, and Steve follows suit. He helps you back into the sleeping bag, snuggling up next to you once zipped up.
It's effortless, though mindful, how you tangle yourselves around one another. Your leg is thrown over his thigh while you rest on your side. He faces you, slotting his leg between yours and reeling you into his embrace. You tuck your head under his chin, inviting him to kiss the top of your headâ and he does.
"We're taking the weekend off," you murmur. It's not a question, it's a firm statement. "No crawls. Not unless they're absolutely certain we're ending this."
"No crawls," Steve agrees, chuckling softly into you hair. "Stay over this weekend? I know it's not the most ideal first date location, but we don't really have the greatest options right now, andâ"
"Okay."
"Oh." He pauses, relieved there was no hesitancy from you. "Okay. Yeah. We'll do that."
This might take some getting used to, the whole not being at each other's throats all the time thing. He can't complain, in fact, it's a welcomed change.
"The others can wait, we got catching up to do," you nuzzle your face into his neck, voice vibrating against his throat. "And we'll be dry this time."
He hums with a chuckle low in his throat. "Not sure you could say that for yourself, but sure, okay."
"Steve."
The two of you are too wrapped up in one another to notice the snow finally slowing to something serene, teasing back and forth like you used to. This banter without venom, it's natural now, and he hopes it stays. He hopes you stay. By the way you're so at ease in his embrace, Steve knows you will.Â
okay i need help. im trying to find a fic i started reading awhile ago. i donât remember a lot, just that it was on AO3, it was steve harrington x ofc and it was a series rewrite starting from season 1. it seemed to be a well known fic and it has been around awhile. might have been a henderson ofc possiblyâŠ
if i was steveâs girlfriend he could not get me off of him. not even in a sexual way, would always be hugging him or sleeping on him, pretending im tired and my feet hurt so he can carry me and i can fulfill my wish of climbing him like a tree
as previously established i feel like steve is a level one clinger so he definitely would not mind this at all. obviously time and place but this is the kind of casual PDA i think he would go for around trusted family and friends. if anyone gave him shit for it he would just throw it right back like "oh, sorryyyy i'm in love, you should try it sometime"
something very sweet.... to me.... is thinking about how maybe you've been hanging out with The Group (the adults) and you've been lounging around on the couch shooting the shit and it's late and you're very sleepy and you just. decide to rest your eyes with your head on steve's shoulder for a second. but the second you do you're out. everything feels heavy and you're drifting off to dreamland and steve is so warm suddenly you're curling up a little more into his side and your breathing is evening out and you're no longer just resting your eyes
and steve is such a sap. he's pulling you in a little closer and wrapping a large hand around your waist to anchor you there and your hair is tickling his neck and the side of his face but your shampoo smells really good and he loves the little clicky sounds you make when you're asleep. he just lets you stay like that for a little and no one brings any attention to it, this is just kind of what the two of you do. the conversation is dying down anyway and you hear more crickets chirping outside than you do words that make sense
eventually everyone's calling it quits and is heading out or heading upstairs and steve hates to wake you but he has to move if he wants the two of you to sleep in your own bed. so he's tucking your hair behind your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, and whispering that it's time to go home. and you're a little grabbier than usual and you're so sleepy and you don't know if your legs will move properly to get you back out to the car. and steve knows this without you having to say it, so he just scoops you up and carries you out bridal style to the car and buckles you in and keeps his hand on your thigh the whole way home while your head rests against the window. rinse and repeat to bring you up to bed.... at some point you wake up enough but you continue to feign sleep anyway just so he'll dote on you for a little longer
Mmmf maybe maybe a collegeAU! Situationship moment with Steve. Angsty because he's kind of a shitter. He knows that his lil miss (reader) will say yes to come over anytime he asks. And he knows at the end of the day she'll still emotionally be there for him so he's always sidelining her for 'better options'. Only really going back to her when they fall through.
She eventually breaks things off with him which he doesn't expect and he realises in her absence that he's being a bit of a SHITHEAD and ignoring whats really going on. (He's scared of being in love and having that commitment but)
I hope this is angsty ENOUGH MY SHAYLAAA đ«¶đ«¶
Regaining Affections
Steve Harrington x situationship!reader 1.5k words
Warnings: angst, suggestive, commitment issues, hurt/comfort, friends with benefits,
Steve was fine keeping things casual until you chose yourself, forcing him to confront the truth
The hallway outside Steveâs dorm was almost eerily quiet at one in the morning. Your sneakers squeaked against the carpet as you tugged your hoodie tighter around yourself, fingers disappearing into sleeves that still smelled faintly of his detergent. The door clicked behind you with barely a sound.
There was no goodbye kiss, or âtext me when you get home.â Just âsee you around, sweetheart,â you huffed a laugh to yourself. Steve collected pet names the way others collected parking tickets around the campus, honey, pretty girl, baby, it rolled off his tongue so easily youâd almost forgotten heâd never once called you his girlfriend.
Everyone assumed you and Steve were dating, you walked to class together, studied together, spent nights tangled up on his couch while you half-heartedly pretended whatever horrible horror movie he picked.
Sometimes you woke up before him, watching the morning sunlight spill across his face while he grumbled and tried to pull you closer.
Moments like those felt dangerously close to love, then heâd ruin it, because Friday would roll around. âHey, sweetheartâŠâ
You already knew that tone. âI canât tonight,â heâd say. âOne of the frats is throwing a party and Robinâs dragging me.â
You smiled anyway, âokay, itâs fine.â Youâd brush off his promise to make it up to you, because he never did. Like clockwork, one of the girls he met that night would end up in his bed for a one night stand, and you would pretend like you didnât care.
âYou always say yes.â Steve said absentmindedly, chest heaving as he caught his breath.
âHm?â You hummed, your hearing was still fuzzy from your mind blowing orgasm.
âYou never tell me no.â Steve repeated, moving his face to the side to gaze up at you.
You laughed, playing with a thread of his blanket. âI have, you asked me to help you move your mini fridge.â
He grinned, shaking his head. âThat doesnât countâyou still showed up.â
You shoved his shoulder, rolling your eyes. âOh, shut up.â But he wasnât teasing, not really, because he knew you answered every text. He knew that if he had a bad day or only wanted to blow off some steam, youâd be there. If another girl ghosted him or they ended things, you still unlocked your phone at midnight when his name lit up your screen.
You were his safety net, the one thing he believed heâd never lose. Robin noticed first, of course she always did.
âYou knowââ she said one afternoon, stirring her iced coffee. âYou deserve better.â
You frowned, not understanding what she meant. âIâm happy.â You said a little too adamantly.
Robin gave you a look. âThe scary thing is, I donât know if you actually are, or if youâre just telling yourself that.â
The next week, Steve disappeared, again. After he promised to spend Friday with you, then a message came through, ârain check?â
You stared at the words, you felt nauseous as your stomach twisted. Another Friday would come, and there would be someone else, a different girl who was better, prettier, more exciting.
Until whatever they had going on fell through, and Steve would show up at your door with a crooked smile, the one that made you fold instantly.
âMiss me?â Every time, every single time, you let him in without fail. If Steve wasnât there, you had no one, and the thought scared you above anything else.
You were laying in bed when your phone buzzed at eleven pm. Steveâs familiar contact name came into view as he asked if you were awake. Your fingers rested on the keyboard as you read, âcan I come over.â
You imagined him at someone elseâs dorm, getting turned away and immediately running to his second option, thatâs what you were. A back up plan, someone that still made him feel needed, and you swallowed around the lump in your throat.
You stared at the blinking cursor before typing. âI donât think you should anymore.â It meant nothing but everything at the same time, Steveâs typing bubble appeared then disappeared instantly.
âEverything okay?â He asked, you could feel the hesitation behind it.
Everything wasnât okay, but maybe it could be. âSteve, I have feelings for you. And Iâm done being a second option, so I think we should stop doingâŠwhatever this is.â
There was silence for a full minute, then he replied. âDonât do that.â
Your chest tightened, he wasnât asking you not to leave, or that he wants you, just donât do that. You looked at the screen until your vision blurred, then for the first time since meeting Steve, you turned on do not disturb, and let it stay silent.
You frowned at the knock that came at your door, three days later. Peeling yourself away from your textbooks, you padded across the room in fuzzy socks, unlocking the door just enough to peek through the gap.
ââŠSteve?â Your eyes widened, he looked awful. His hair was windswept like heâd been dragging frustrated hands through it for hours. His hoodie was inside out, all wrinkled with the tag sticking out awkwardly. What you noticed first wasnât the way his chest rose and fell as if heâd sprinted all the way across campus, it was the redness that surrounded his pupils, from lack of sleep.
âHey,â he whispered, looking ashamed but not leaving.
You stayed behind the door, contemplating if you should slam it in his face. âWhat are you doing here?â You rubbed your arm.
âIâcan I have like five minutes?â He was struggling to talk, his mind clearly pacing.
Your heart wanted to open the door immediately, but your brain reminded you what would happen if you did.
âI donât know.â You said honestly.
A painful expression came over his features, but he nodded. âI deserve that.â He sighed.
Silence stretched between you, finally, you opened your door to slip out into the hallway beside him. Steve stared at the floor, laughing bitterly to himself.
âI practiced this, like six times. But apparently Iâve forgotten it allââcause Iâm terrified.â That caught you off guard, Steve never looked terrified. He always had that casual coolness about his demeanor that drew everyone toward him, but tonight he looked like he wanted to run away.
He let out a shaky laugh. âIâve been trying to figure out why I kept doing that to you. I kept telling myself that it wasnât a big dealââ
He swallowed thickly. âThat we were just, hanging out. But then you left.â His voice cracked ever so slightly. âAnd suddenly, every stupid little thing reminded me of you.â
âIâd walk past the library and wonder if you were inside.â He smiled sadly. âIâd wake up expecting to find you asleep next to me.â
His eyes met yours. âAnd then Iâd remember, you werenât waiting for me anymore.â
You stayed quiet, unsure of what to say, letting him continue. âI thought I liked keeping things casual. If things donât get serious, they canât fall apart.â
Steveâs eyes looked distant. âMy parents made commitment look miserable, they stayed together because they had to, not because they wanted to.â
He sniffled, and you realized he started crying when a tear slipped free from his eye. âSo I decided that getting too close to someone was just asking to get hurt. But somewhere along the wayâŠI hurt the one person who wouldâve never done that to me.â
Your eyes stung. âI kept choosing everyone else, because you scared me.â
âWhat?â You interrupted, Steve looked at you unwaveringly.
âI fell in love with you.â Your breath caught in your lungs. âAnd I panicked, thinking that if you became my girlfriend youâd see me for who I am.â
Silence settled over you, he closed his eyes, a tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. âI was selfish.â Steve choked out. âI'm so, so sorry. But I need you to knowâyouâre the only person who matters to me, you truly are the most special thing Iâve seen and I donât want this anymore. I want to be yours.â
You looked at him for a long moment, before asking the question that sat heavily on your chest. âHow do I know that you wonât get scared again.â
Steve took a step closer. âI canât promise that Iâll always say the perfect thing, but I can promise that I wonât run away from you anymore.â
His eyes searched yours, you took a deep breath. âYou really mean it?â
Steve nodded instantly. âI wouldnât have come here if I didnât.â
You reached up, carefully folding the tag of his hoodie back inside his collar. When your hands lingered on his neck, he whispered. âCan I kiss you?â
You smiled for the first time since heâs shown up. âIâd like that.â Steve cupped your face like you were something precious, and then kissed you slowly, savoring the moment like he wanted to memorize the feeling before it slipped away.
When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. âDoes this mean I get to call you my girlfriend?â He murmured.
You pretended to think about it, biting your bottom lip. âI guess.â
His brows flew up, taken aback. âI guess?â Steve repeated.
âI mean,â a grin spread across your face. âYouâve got a lot of making up to do.â
He laughed, relieved and genuine this time, wrapping his arms to cage you impossibly tighter against him. âI can work with that.â
mean!steve harrington x fem!reader
a follow up to closet encounters
(18+; MDNI; 6.3k words)
You're in a bad mood.
It's your coworker's turn to help.
cw: mean!steve, mean!reader, oral (f receiving), fingering, edging, overstimulation, name calling (dick, asshole, a singular use of 'bitch'; both parties are into it and turned on by this), angst, etc.
-> big big thank you to @stevenose for basically workshopping this whole fic with me... ur brain i'm forever in awe of. furthermore, big thank you to @cpnsteverogers for beta reading her own birthday fic <3 love u both, and thank you to every one of my friends who read this while i agonized over how to write pussy eating. also big thank you to @keer-y who pretty much wrote the finger sucking scene because i didn't know how to
masterlist || divider by @/saradika-graphics || ao3 link
When it comes to living under a military lock down, thereâs a few things you learn pretty quickly.
Some of these things are obvious. Donât mouth off to the private who runs the stupid military clinic, no matter how many times he weirdly asks to confirm if youâre single. (You are, though he doesnât need to know this.) Follow all random detours perfectly, no matter how inconvenient it is. (Your neighbor ignored the signs once and got sent a hefty fine.) Airing broadcasts making fun of the âfascists running the townâ is one of the dumbest choices a person could make. (Youâre still a little mad at Robin for not being there when the head of the military operation came in to scold both you and Steve, despite the fact that you exclusively ran the evening shows and had nothing to do with whatever Robin said at six in the morning.)
Other things, however, fall under the realm of instinctual knowledge as opposed to explicit.
So when your already balding tire pops in the middle of a country road, half a mile from the nearest military outpost and nearly three miles to the station, the only logical solution is to abandon your car and start walking.
You might not understand the extent of why the military has taken over Hawkins, but youâre not stupid enough to trust their good intentions.
 The sun beats down on your neck as you trudge through overgrown grass, annoyed and muttering and hitching your purse up higher on your shoulder, cursing everything that you can think of for this being your luck.
(After all, youâd only moved to Hawkins to attend the Ivy Tech campus since it was the closest one to your hometown. And now youâre stuck in a god damn lock down.)
Itâs ridiculous, honestly. Youâd just wanted cheap college credits before moving onto IUPUI or Ball State, knowing full well that you couldnât afford rent in Bloomington or Lafayette. And now youâre stuck here with the rest of the town, roughing it with everyone else too stupid to not evacuate when you were given the chance.Â
Which makes it all the more annoying when an overly familiar maroon sedan pulls up next to you, rolls a window down, and out comes Steve Harringtonâs voice: âIs there a reason youâre taking a hike through town?â
As if your day couldnât get any worse.
âI thought the exercise in the dead of winter would do me some good,â you say, continuing to plant one foot in front of another. The Beamer crawls alongside you. âPerfect weather for it, donât you think?â
Your name slips from his lips flatly. âAre you serious?â
âJesus, Steve, are you always this dense?â you snap. âNo, clearly not. My car broke down a mile back and I didnât feel like being harassed by some military goons to get some help.â
âWhatâs wrong with your car?â
You whip around to stare at him. âWhat?â
The BMW comes to a halt, and he gives you an unimpressed look. âYour car. Whatâs wrong with it?â
âTire burst,â you say, âWhy do you care?â
Steve frowns but doesnât answer your question, only saying, âGet in.â
âWhat?â
âAre you always this dense?â he shoots back. âGet in the car, sweetheart, before weâre both late.â
The endearment does something funny to your chest, though you studiously ignore it, choosing to scowl instead.
Itâs been a few weeks since yourâŠÂ entanglement with him in the closet, and since then things have been weird. As in: Heâs been calling you sweetheart and honey and baby whenever Robin wasnât listening. As in: The two of you have made out in the closet several times since. As in: Things have somehow turned more hostile than ever before, yet youâre left with the feeling that you got caught inside the worldâs angriest version of foreplay.
(As in: You like the fact youâre caught inside the worldâs angriest version of foreplay.)
(Not that you would admit this to anyone, much less Steve.)
âI think Iâm fine walking,â you airily say, sticking your nose in the air and turning away.Â
âAre you serious?â Steve asks, exasperated. âSeriously, just get in the damn car.â
You sniff imperiously. âMake me.â
You barely make it three steps before you hear the parking brake yanked up and the driverâs side door getting thrown open. Two more steps and one large hand grasps your forearm, spinning you around and forcing you to look at the barely restrained fury in his eyes.Â
âWhy can you not just listen for once?â he demands.Â
âWhy do you have to be such an asshole all the time?â you retort. âI can do whatever the hell I want, Steve, andââ
But he has no interest in listening to whatever it is youâre about to say, not when he splays a palm across your back and forcibly turns you around, pushing you towards the idling vehicle with the urgency only a man standing in ten degree weather without a coat could have.
(You pretend the warmth of his hand between all the layers youâre wearing doesnât make you shiver, and you know heâs pretending not to notice how affected you are by just how easy it is for him to maneuver your body.)
âSo fucking stubborn,â he mutters, clearly not caring that you can hear him loud and clear as he yanks open the passenger door. And despite how heâs manhandled you to where he wants you, heâs gentle when he helps you into the seat, his calloused palm holding onto your hand for balance as you get settled.Â
Seconds later, heâs sliding back behind the wheel and shifting into second, peeling away.
You sink down into the leather, crossing your arms and looking out the window, refusing to acknowledge the fact that Steve sets the station to your favorite music.
The two of you go all of five minutes, passing nothing but trees and empty fields, before he finally bursts out, âYou could at least say âthank you.ââ
âFor what?â you ask. âKidnapping me off the side of the road?â
âI didnâtââ he starts before snapping his mouth shut with an audible click. âItâs not safe to be wandering around the middle of nowhere. You donât know the shit thatâs out there, andââ
âSteve.â His name comes out sharper than intended. âItâs not like I could drive to the station without a tire. What option did I have?âÂ
A muscle in his jaw twitches and several tense seconds pass before he reaches into the backseat, blindly reaching for something and dropping it into your lap.
You glance down, baffled to find a walkie talkie.
âWhatâs this for?â
âUh, to contact me if thereâs an emergency,â Steve says, like itâs the most obvious thing in the world.
(Itâs not.)
âKeep it on channel nine,â he continues. âAnd, like, Iâm serious. Your car breaks down, youâre going to be late to work, thereâs some weird guy at your apartment â just radio.â
A few beats of silence pass, Steveâs cheeks reddening as you gawk at him, before you finally burst out, âYou know I can take care of myself, right?â
âJesus fucking â yes! I do know!â He turns away from the road long enough to glare at you. âTrust me, sweetheart, Iâve never once doubted your ability to do that. My point is â if you need something, just call.â
You bite your tongue, refusing to answer.
âDo you understand?â he asks.
You cross your arms petulantly, staring out the window.
But Steveâs always been one to push your buttons, and in the next moment, the car comes to a screeching halt, your chin is in his hand, and he turns your face until youâre looking him dead in the eye.
Your breath hitches.
His gaze drops down to your lips, obviously and clearly, before sliding back up to meet your eyes. âI saidâŠâ he begins quietly, threateningly, and you feel dizzy with arousal. âDo you understand?â
âFuck you,â you say, less steady than youâd like.
His eyes narrow and his thumb presses a little harder into your chin. âSweetheart,â he says. âI asked you a question.â
His thumb slips up your chin, pushing its way past your lips until heâs pressing down on your tongue, forcing your mouth open. Drool pools as he tilts your head up and down, making you nod in agreement, and he releases you with a smile.
âGood,â he says, wiping his hand on his sweater. You swallow heavily. âGlad we could come to an agreement.â
The thing about working with Steveâ
Well, there are several things about working at the station with Steve.Â
He has abysmal taste in music, despite the fact that Robin has â from what youâve heard â been trying to get him to listen to something other than The J. Geils Band and whatever is on the Top 40 list. When he drinks coffee, itâs always with a splash of milk and two sugars, and the one time you made him a cup, he grimaced with every sip because you added too much milk but didnât correct you.Â
And, no matter what, he insists on you playing at least one Kate Bush song every night.
(You donât ask.)
(He doesnât elaborate.)
It happens after the synth in Running Up That Hill fades out, right as youâre sliding the Madonna record you want to play next into the other turntable.
The lights flicker.Â
Steve sucks in a breath as you slip the headphones from your ears, looking up at the bulb overhead that continues to go in and out. You barely get a chance to turn in your seat before heâs next to you, his fingers digging painfully into your shoulder.
Thereâs a hiss.
The next thing you know, the bulb goes out with a loud crack, the hum of electricity cuts out, and the two of you are shrouded in darkness.
âWhat the hell?â you ask.
You try to stand, but Steve keeps you in place, hissing, âQuiet.â
The entire station goes dead silent, and for a moment, neither of you move.
Anxiety crawls up your spine as your heart beats loudly in your ears. Steveâs hold on your shoulder loosens marginally, enough for you to reach up and tangle your fingers with his, squeezing tightly for something.Â
(For comfort or relief, youâre not sure.)
He squeezes back once before pulling away. You want to protest â you open your mouth, ready to yell at him to come back â but he only shifts over far enough to grab a flashlight off of the nearby shelf, flicking it on and illuminating the room around you once more.
He glances towards you, concern written all over his face when he asks, âYou alright?â
âYeah, justâŠâ You frown, trying and failing to keep apprehension from building a home in your chest. âI wasnât expecting that. Did a fuse blow or something?â
âI donât know,â he says. Thereâs something conflicted on his face when he turns between you and the door to the booth, like thereâs a decision he needs to make but heâs not sure what the correct choice is. Whatever that choice is though, he ends up saying, âCome with me.â
You nod and, without a second thought, reach for him once more.
His hand is warm and sure in your own as he tugs you along with him, entirely at odds with how tense his shoulders are as the two of you make your way through the station. Heâs silent, too, in a way that youâve never once associated with him; His footsteps are inaudible against the tile floor and his breathing is practically nonexistent. Your nerves are practically fraying at the seams, and you do your best to imitate his motions but he clearly has much more practice with going unnoticed than you do.
(Though going unnoticed by whatâ)
(Youâre not quite sure.)
Itâs only once heâs made three entire rounds of the station that he relaxes, pulling you to a stop in the middle of a sitting area.
âWell, that was pointless,â you say with a huff. âSeriously, Steve, what the hell are you doing? Just go find the power box and see if a fuse blew or something, and then we canââ
The phone in the office rings, and Steve jumps. Jumps. He physically pushes you behind him, the light flashing across the room. You stare at the back of his head, entirely unimpressed before shoving past him, ignoring his hurried, âWait, wait! Jesus Christ, could you just listenââ
You snatch up the phone, saying, âThis is WSQK the Squawk. How can I help you!â
âOh!â comes Robinâs voice. âHey, sorry, I thought Steve would pick up. You two alright? The power went down all over Hawkins, but I couldnât tell if the outage wouldâve reached you guys all the way out there.â
âYeah, yeah, weâre fine,â you say with a backwards glance towards Steve who, by all accounts, looks ready to throttle you. You give him a sweet smile. He glowers. âAny idea on when the power will be back on?â
âUgh, I wish,â Robin sighs. âIâm at Nanceâs house right now and Mr. Wheelerâs rattling off some conspiracy theory about the military being behind it. I think heâs just mad that his nightly news got cut off. Oh â I gotta run, Mrs. Wheeler is calling us all upstairs. Give Steve my love!â
âWill do,â you wryly say. âBye, Robin.â
Barely three seconds pass after you place the phone back on the base before Steve crosses the threshold, dropping the flashlight on the desk and gripping your face between his two palms as he backs you into the desk. Thereâs a dangerous lilt to his voice when he demands, âWould it kill you to listen for once in your fucking life?â
âHm,â you say, a thrill shooting straight to your core.âTo you? Probably.â
He searches your face, barely restrained rage tugging at the edges of his frame, and in the next moment, his lips crash into yours. Heâs demanding as he presses you further into the wood veneer, bruising when his hands slip down to hold you by the nape of your neck, holding you still and steady to be used for his every want and desire. You gasp, thrilled, and he wastes no time pressing his tongue in, hedonistic in his desire to be in control, his need to consume you whole.
Not that you make it easy for him.
You thrash against his hold, clawing your nails down his arms, biting down on his bottom lip just hard enough to hear him moan.
But the two of you know that itâs all for show â all for your pride.
You donât want him to stop. Not when heâs this worked up.
(You have a feeling, an instinct in the back of your head, that tells you heâd know the second you did want him to stop, even if you never spoke it, and that heâd back away immediately.)
(Somehow, this only turns you on more.)
And all at once, he pulls away, his chest heaving as he asks, âAre you going to listen now?âÂ
âTo you?â you spit back. âNever.â
In the dim light, heâs glowing. Hair messed up, cheeks flushed, sweater crooked. All masculine bravado and pride. The look of a man who is far too used to not being listened to, and one who has decided that this is where he draws the line.
This is his breaking point, his point of no return, his final stand.
His eyes are half-lidded, heavy with molten desire as he smirks. His hands drop down, and his calloused fingers are rough against the soft skin of your waist as he dips under the hem of your shirt.
A shiver runs down your spine.
âTell me to stop,â he murmurs, inching closer and closer to your center, right above the zipper of your jeans.
You tilt your chin up, pressing your lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.
âYeah,â he says with a little laugh, tone dripping with condescension. âThatâs what I thought, sweetheart.â
One second youâre upright, and in the next, youâre spread along the surface of the desk, bereft of your jeans and shoes. You prop yourself up on your elbows just as he drops to his knees, spreading your legs open and pressing a kiss into the fatty flesh of your thigh.
He wastes no time in peeling your panties down, shaking his head when he finds just how wet you are. âIs this all for me, baby? Really?â
âNo,â you tell him smartly, despite the evidence otherwise. âItâs for some other schmuck.â
Steveâs entirely unamused when he says, âOh, Iâm sure.â
He presses a trail of kisses up to your core, and with the voracity of a starved man, dives into your cunt with reckless abandon.
He licks a long line up the seam of your pussy, and you can feel his grin as he sucks your clit into his mouth. Pleasure shoots through your body, and youâre aware in a vague, distant way that all of the weeks since you sucked him off in the closet â a moment that youâve repeatedly replayed in your head, when itâs late at night with your hand sliding under the hem of your pajama pants â have been leading up to this.Â
Here, this moment, with his head bracketed by your thighs. All of the escalating arguments and name calling and Robin begging off having to interact with either of you, the stolen moments in the closet with his fingers gripping your skin so hard it left bruises, his teeth nipping at your neck. The tension building and building and building until you finally pushed him enough for it to boil over.
And, god, does it feel good to have him flick his tongue against your clit, to have two thick fingers slip inside your dripping pussy and curl against that spongey spot you have such a hard time reaching yourself.
Your hips jerk up, but heâs quick to pin you back down, pulling back just enough to snap, âDonât move.â
You open your mouth, ready to argue, to push him even more, but his teeth scrape against your clit and the only thing you can do is fall back against the desk as he continues to work at you, the pleasure building and growing and pressing at every corner of your mind untilâ
Until it stops completely.
You look down just as Steve pulls away with a shit eating grin, his chin glistening with evidence of your arousal, and he asks, âWhatâs wrong, baby? Did you need something?â
Everything positive thought youâd had about him is replaced with indignant rage. âYouâre such an asshole, Steve.â
âOh, am I?â he asks. âI guess you donât want to come then, huh?â
You freeze. âWait, what?â
But he doesnât answer, only slips his fingers back inside, tortuously slow as he curls them up. Lazy and controlled, his brown eyes gleaming with unbridled lust in the flashlight.Â
A moan escapes you.
He keeps the pace, grinning when your hips twitch up, searching for more: More stimulation, more pleasure, more anything.
But he refuses to give it to you.
Steve utterly delights in keeping you on the edge, keeping you wanting. He applies just enough pressure to have you squirming, but pulls away when you get too close. He continues the slow drag in and out of your pussy, bullying another finger inside until youâre shuddering and clenching down on his hands. He nips at your thighs, leaving marks all along your skin with a stern, âSo you remember who fucked you this well tomorrow.â
You attempt to aim a kick at his arm, but he simply grasps your ankle and tugs you ever closer to his mouth, pressing a kiss into your mound.
âIsnât this what you wanted?â he asks, twisting his fingers until you whimper. âYou told me to return the favor when you were having a bad day. Or were you lying when you said that?â
You bite down on your lip, refusing to answer.Â
And then, suddenly, he pulls his hands away, leaving you painfully empty before he slaps your cunt â light enough for it to not hurt, but hard enough for it to send a jolt through your body. You whimper, and he grins, eyes gleaming as he asks, "What happened to you being such a whiny bitch, huh?"
"Fuck you," you snap, winding your fingers through his hair and yanking until he's back to where you ache the most. âYouâre the worldâs biggest dick, Steve. So fucking rude, all the time. Always mouthing off, always trying to get under my skin. Why canât you use your mouth for something more useful?â
He grins into your pussy, dipping his tongue inside your core and licking a stripe up to your clit, flicking the tip over the nerve until youâre squealing, holding your thighs open and forcing you to take it.
He brings you to the edge one more time, pulling back just as your orgasm is about to crash into you, and laughing when you lurch forward, trying and failing to pull him back towards you.
âWhy?â you sob. âWhy wonât youâ?â
âBeg.â
His voice comes out so serious, so cold, that everything inside of you pauses.
âWhat?â
âBeg me to let you come,â he says, like this isnât the most insane thing someone has ever told you during sex. âSince you canât remember how to mind your manners and say âthank you,â I think itâs only fair that I teach you some, right?â
âWhat the hell is your problem, Steve?â you demand.
But he ignores you, bringing the pad of his thumb back up to your clit, drawing harsh circles around it until heâs forced to pin your hips down, keeping you exactly where he wants you as the pleasure builds back up once more, teetering on the edge of something more, building and building and taking andâÂ
âPlease.â
His thumb freezes.
Thereâs an indecipherable look in his eyes when he glances back up towards you, and you canât even imagine what he sees. You can feel sweat beading along your temples, and your hair is uncomfortably plastered to your neck. You feel utterly wrecked and sensitive and at your utter limit, but you know itâs only going to get worse.
(Your pussy clenches at the thought.)
âPlease what?â Steve asks, more gentle than heâd been just moments before as he slips two thick fingers back inside of you, stroking along your walls until he finds the spot that has you whimpering. âUse your words, sweetheart.â
Emotion wells up in your eyes as you reach down, your hand outstretched towards him, needing something to ground you.
He meets you halfway, intertwining your fingers together and squeezing.
âYou can do it,â he says softly, encouraging. âTell me what you want.â
âI want to come,â you whine. âPlease, Steve, please, I just â Iâm sorry for being mean, just please let me come.â
Steve gives you a smile, one that teeters between affectionate and condescending, and he places a kiss on your mound. He shifts upwards just as tears spill down your face, pressing kisses along your chin and tracing a path up until heâs captured your mouth with his own. His forehead meets yours as he asks, âThat wasnât so hard now, was it?â
You gasp his name as he curls his fingers inside of you with a renewed vigor, hitting the sweet spot that has you seeing stars as his thumb slips back up, drawing tight circles around your clit until youâre openly sobbing, tightening your hold on his hand as he brings you closer and closer to your orgasm.
âCâmon, baby,â he murmurs, licking a stripe up your cheek, gathering your tears on his tongue. âWhat do you want?â
âDonâtââ you gasp, arching into his hold. âDonât â Steve, pleaseââ
âLet go,â he says. âLet go for me, honey.â
Your orgasm doesnât wash over you as much as it crashes into you. Your entire body shakes as you sob, grabbing at any part of him that you can reach â his shirt, his arms, his face â as waves of pleasure work through your system, only drawn out by the fact that he keeps working at your core until youâre pushing at his hand, panting, âToo much, too muchââ
Slowly, he pulls his fingers away, and in the next moment, theyâre nudging at your lips as he says, âOpen up.â
You peek up at him through your lashes and catch the slight curl to his lips, the smirk threatening to appear, and as you open your mouth, it does.Â
âThere we go,â he says, condescension dripping from his tone.Â
A shock of pleasure works its way through you as he feeds his fingers into your mouth, making you shudder as your tongue dips over his fingers. You taste yourself on him and moan quietly, even as he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, you close your lips around them, sucking as he withdraws them.
âQuick learner,â he comments, and you narrow your eyes at him as he pushes himself up and away from you.
You drop back down to the table, chest heaving. The sound of Steve shuffling a few feet away barely registers as you catch your breath, running your hands down your face. Honestly, Steve barely registers on your radar, not until you feel him sliding flimsy cotton up your ankles.Â
âWhat are youâ?â you begin to ask, hitching yourself up onto your elbows, but you answer your own question as he pulls your panties up your legs, tugging them into place. âSteve, honestly, you donât have to do this. Iâm a big girl, I can put myself back together.â
But he only rolls his eyes and starts the process again with your jeans.
Youâre honestly speechless as he rights your clothes, smoothing your hair from your face as he helps you stand on unsteady feet. His hand is warm against your back as he guides you from the office, his voice quiet as he says, âCarâs unlocked. Go wait while I lock up, alright?â
âI can help,â you argue.
The only response you get is him nudging you towards the door, his keys pressed into the palm of your hand.
The last thing youâre expecting when Steve joins you in the car, already turned on and warmed up, is for him to unceremoniously drop a bottle of water in your lap.
He busies himself with buckling in and tuning the radio â still on your favorite station, just a little bit staticky from distance â as you pick up the water, asking, âUm, whatâs this for?â
He gives you a flat look. âTo drink?â
You barely restrain the urge to respond with something catty â a no shit, Sherlock sitting on the tip of your tongue â but his kindness gives you pause. Instead, you simply unscrew the bottle and take a sip as he peels from the parking lot, the brick facade of the station fading into the distance.
He keeps his eyes trained on the road as he turns on the radio, still on your favorite station from earlier, and the question slips from your lips before you can stop it.
âWhy are you suddenly acting like you care?â
His jaw tightens for just a moment.Â
âIâve always cared,â he softly says. âYou just havenât noticed.â
His eyes slide over to you briefly. Meaningfully.
(They look like theyâre glowing in the moonlight, and you donât know how to process this.)
You turn away first.
His words settle across your chest, winding their way around your ribs until your heart begins to beat an erratic tune. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. The car creeps closer to the edge of town, streetlights illuminating the old streets, and for the first time since your disastrous meeting with Steve, you let your guard lower.
âWhat do you mean by that?â you ask. âThat I havenât noticed?â
âBecause you havenât,â he replies. He says it so calmly, so non-accusatory, as though it were a facet of life heâd just learned to accept. It doesnât sit well with you. âIâve cared since we met, believe it or not.â
You whip around to gawk at him. âWhat the hell are you talking about? Youâve been an asshole since we met, Steve!â
âOnly because you started it!â he shoots back.Â
âExcuse me?â Your jaw drops. âI absolutely did not start this. Iâm only like this because you were rude first!â
He turns to you, startled, and in the next moment pulls over onto the side of the road, yanking up the parking brake and facing you properly. âWhat are you talking about?â
âOur first shift together!â you say. âYou were mad at, like, my entire existence! You asked Robin if you guys actually needed to hire me!â
âExcuse me?â His eyes narrow. âThatâs not at all what happened. I walked into the station and you were, like, superhostile straight off the bat! And all I did was suggest playing Bruce Springsteen!â
Indignation burns brightly in your veins.
âThat was our second shift together,â you correct. âBut the day before that, I walked in, introduced myself, and you were just a dick for no reason? And you donât even remember this? What the hell, Steve!â
âIââ His face twists with confusion. âNo, hold on â the day before â Iâd been up all night trying to find Henderson and I was running on fumes. Not that that excuses anything, but, like, thatâs why I donât remember. I hadnât slept in over a day whenever we first met. And⊠I guess â everything with Dustin, and the mess that all of that has been â I guess it felt like you were doing the same thing to me that heâs been doing. Pushing me away for no reason, being an asshole. Again, not that that excuses my behavior, butâŠâ
All of your anger comes to a crashing halt.
You donât exactly know Dustin Henderson. Youâve met the kid, and the interactions youâve had with him havenât exactly given you the greatest impression of him, but Robin had assured you that Dustin was simply going through a hard time and to not take it personally.Â
(But youâve seen the way he talks to Steve. Youâve heard the tone used whenever Steve calls on those walkies to ask for help on the equipment. Youâve watched the strain in Steveâs posture when Dustin storms out of the station.)
(Even if you donât know the full story, the undeniable truth is that you know enough.)
Slowly, conscious of the way his gaze is focused entirely on you, you reach out, sliding your hand up his calloused palm until your fingers are entangled with his.Â
âWhatâŠâ You lick your lips, throat suddenly dry. âEverything with Dustin. Whatâs going on with that?â
He lets out an aggrieved sigh, but you can tell that itâs not directed at you. Itâs simply the culmination of months upon months of stress receiving the smallest of outlets.Â
âItâs⊠complicated,â he says. âThere was â well, there was the quakes. You were here for that, yeah?â
You nod.
âLike, pretty much everyone lost someone or something. It was awful. Obviously,â he continues. âBut there was a moment â before â where I told Dustin and his friend to not play heroes, and the friend didnât listen. He⊠he didnât make it. He died in the quake, and Dustin⊠heâs just been pissed. And, like, I get it. Trust me, I do. Itâs a lot for anyone to handle, and Henderson was only fourteen at the time. But heâs been shoving me away ever since, which is the long and short of it, I guess.â
You shake your head, amused. âWhy does that make it sound like you knew about the quakes before they happened?â
The laugh Steve lets out sounds strained, but before you can question him further, a warm hand cups the side of your face, dragging you over the center console.Â
You go willingly.
His lips are soft against yours, hesitant in a way they hadnât been earlier. But the moment is different now; Charged, still, but not in the way it had been back in the station.
(You would be a fool to ignore whatever is happening between the two of you.)
And when he draws back, his forehead resting against yours, his fingers still holding onto your face as though heâd fall apart without touching you, you whisper, âWhat was that for?â
âI...â His eyes flit across your face. âAn apology, I suppose.â
You sigh, pressing just the smallest bit closer. âItâs not okay, but I understand,â you say. âItâs not like Iâve been nice to you, either. Besides...â You lean forward, pressing a kiss along his jaw. âI canât say I havenât enjoyed the past few weeks.â
His lips curl up into a shy smile. âYeah?â
You shrug, your heart beating erratically against your rib cage. âYeah.â
âGood,â he says. âIâm glad.â
Itâs with a pained look that he pulls away, his hand skimming down the length of your arm before settling back in his seat entirely, shifting into second and starting the drive once more.
Streetlights flit by quietly, barren cornfields give way to houses and subdivisions, and as he turns onto your street, his voice breaks the silence.
âI was wondering,â he begins softly. âSince it looks like the powerâs still out over here â you could, if you want, come back to my place.â
You raise your eyebrows, amused.
âNot for anything, like, untoward,â he quickly clarifies, shooting you a glare when you laugh. (Seriously, who says âuntowardâ still?) âBut itâs cold, and I donât know how the insulation is in your apartment, but worst case we have a generator at my place and my parents evacuated before lock down so itâll just be us, andââ
âSteve,â you interject. He falls silent immediately. âYou donât need to beg. Sure, Iâll go. Besides, my apartment is freezing even with functioning electricity.â
Amusement dances in his eyes. âWell, if itâs so coldâŠâ
âThen youâre really just doing me a favor,â you finish.
A grin threatens to split his face and he nods once, decisive, before shifting gears.
Your apartment building passes by without a glance backwards.
By the time he pulls into a long driveway of a big, unfamiliar house, youâre half asleep. Eyelids drooping, face pressed into the cool window, but the lights in the house are on which means thereâs proper heating, and thatâs enough to have you slipping from the car.
Steve meets you halfway up the path, his hand settling on your back as he unlocks the front door and guides you in.Â
âThe kitchen is that way,â he says, pointing down a hall past the foyer. âFeel free to eat any of the food.â
âThanks,â you say. âBut Iâm not really hungry.â
He accepts this easily, and with a gentle press of his fingers, he nudges you towards the stairs.
His bedroom feels like a window into a version of Steve that youâve heard of but never quite seen. An amalgamation of sentiments â pictures of his friends and parents and others you donât recognize, trophies from his high school days, scribbled notes from Robin strewn across his desk â and the messiness of a boy who clearly doesnât spend as much time at home as he should, clothes strewn across the floor.
Steve, however, is unphased by all of this. He kicks his dirty laundry into a pile as he makes his way over to the dresser, shuffling through it until he yanks out a big, worn shirt and hands it over, saying, âThis should fit. The bathroom is right outside the door, extra toothbrushes are in the cabinet. Use whatever you want.â
You nod and venture from the room without another word. Your clothes fall to the floor and you leave them in a pile to be grabbed in the morning, slipping on the soft t-shirt that falls to mid thigh. A toothbrush is located and you grimace at the taste of Steveâs toothpaste, then amuse yourself by using a tad too much of his overly fancy face wash and moisturizer.
(You know for a fact that you certainly canât afford this stuff. Might as well use it while you can.)
And when you make your way back to the bedroom â back to Steve â heâs already dressed in his own pajamas, under the blankets, and adjusting a laughably large wall of pillows in the dead center of his bed.
You lean against the doorframe, amused when you ask, âWhat are you doing?â
âI didnât â you know, I wasnât going to⊠I didnât want to⊠assume,â he says sheepishly.
âOh my god.â You shake your head, making your way over to the opposite side of the bed, sliding in under the thick comforter, and immediately getting to work on destroying the pillow wall. âYou do know that you had your mouth on my pussy, like, less than two hours ago, right? I think weâll survive sharing a bed.â
âI was trying to be polite!â he cries indignantly.
But you only shift closer, tucking yourself under his arm and throwing your leg over his knee. âHarrington,â you begin affectionately. âYou havenât been polite for as long as weâve known each other. Donât bother starting now.â
He lets out a sound close to amused and shyly, he leans down, planting a kiss on your temple.
You bury your face into his sleep shirt, hiding your smile.
Steve flicks the light off and settles deeper into bed, dragging you closer until his limbs are entirely entangled with yours.
âSweet dreams,â he murmurs.Â
And as you drift off, comforted by the weight of his arms around you and the heat radiating from his skin, you think Yeah, I could get used to this.
whoâs gonna drive you home tonight? - steve harrington
frat! steve harrington x sorority girl! reader
part one of ???
masterlist tag list steve masterlist
summary:
youâve hated steve harrington since the day you met him. unfortunately for you, your sorority and his frat go hand in hand, and you canât escape him. he gets no greater joy in life than to piss you off. when a frat party like any other turns into something heated with the guy you hate more than anyone else, neither of you are sure how to deal with it.
warnings:
smut (18+), protected p in v, dubcon? (theyâre both high), oral sex (f receiving), thigh riding, fingering, messy, rough sex, big dick steve, mention of masturbation (m and f), drinking, drug use (weed), pervy comments, steve is actually insufferable at first
word count: 17.5k words
a/n:
there is soooo much left of this fic, i have the whole thing outlined and iâm so excited! it will def be 4+ parts but i really wanted to share the beginning with you and hopefully it will motivate me to finish it soon đ i really hope you like it!!
The first time you met Steve, you almost slapped him.
His reputation preceded him. Even your freshman year at Ohio State University, fresh out of rush week, youâd heard plenty about Sigma Chi pledge Steve Harrington. They were singing his praises from day oneâhe was handsome, a baseball genius, the life of any party. He commanded the attention of any room he stepped into. You were a little sick of him to begin with from how your Delta Gamma sisters wouldnât shut up about him for two seconds even before that first party.
And when you walked into the Sigma Chi house for the first time, you didnât even need to be told which one was the Harrington. The world gravitated around him like he was the sun itself, and he seemed to glow like it, too. He was handsome, devastatingly so. His smile was blinding. He had a stupidly good head of hair, gorgeous sun-kissed skin dotted with moles like constellations, and big hazel eyes that made him look deceptively sweet.
Youâd met eyes from across the room, and at the time, it had felt like something clicking into place. Two puzzle pieces who had finally found where they belonged. Your breath hitched as he left the group he was talking to and sauntered over, that brilliant smile now directed specifically at you and you alone. Your heart had felt like it might burst from your chest.
âOh my god,â one of your sisters, Margot, had said, grabbing onto your arm. âHeâs coming over here.â
He didnât even glance at her. He only looked at you. He wore a polo with jeans that fit him just right, a red plastic cup clutched in his large hand. When he reached you, you could smell his cologne, something intoxicating that made your head spin. He really was everything everyone had promised.
And then he opened his mouth.
âHi,â heâd said, extending a hand towards you. âIâm Steve. And you are fucking beautiful.â
Embarrassingly, youâd giggled like a total fool, given him your hand, and introduced yourself. âNice to meet you, Steve.â
Heâd actually taken your hand and kissed your knuckles, like the prince he absolutely saw himself as. And then, that suave grin turned into something more like a cocky smirk, a look youâd grow to know and loathe. âYou know, you look like a girl who deserves the very best,â heâd said. âAnd, wouldnât you know itâby sheer coincidence, youâre looking at the best this frat has to offer.â
Okay, a little eye roll worthy, but that wasnât abnormal for these frat guys. Youâd raised an eyebrow. âOh yeah? And what could you possibly offer me?â
His smirk had widened, and he moved in, grabbing you by the hip and pulling you against him. âOh, things beyond your wildest dreams, baby,â heâd murmured, even as you gasped at the sheer audacity of this guy. âWhy donât we go up to my room and I can show you?â
Youâd shoved him back by his chest, making him stumble, the beer in his cup sloshing over the sides and onto his light blue shirt. âYouâre a fucking perv.â
Steveâs expression had immediately transformed into something harder, all traces of the charming smile from moments ago completely erased. âWhat the fuck?â
âYou donât get to just walk up and touch me. I donât even know you.â Youâd scoffed, crossing your arms in front of your chest. âDoes that actually work for you?â
âYeah, actually,â heâd said, looking at you with pure distaste now. âWith girls who arenât an uptight cocktease.â
Youâd laughed, but only in an attempt to keep yourself from punching this guy square in the jaw. âOh, wow. Fuck you.â
âFuck me, huh?â heâd said, that stupid smirk back in place. âYou know, thatâs a good idea, maybe it would help if I got that stick out of your ass and gave you something elseââ
âOh-kay, letâs go get a drink!â Margot had said, dragging you away before you could land the slap you were winding up. You heard him laughing behind you, the sound loud and infuriating.
âSee you around, baby!â heâd called after you. Margot just dug her fingers into your arm, pulling you to a completely different part of the house as fast as she could.
Things with Steve did not improve after that. And, unfortunately for you, you couldnât escape him. He was everywhere you turned. Not only the golden boy on campusâhis photo was used on any and all promotions for the championship winning baseball teamâbut, soon, also the president of Sigma Chi. And your houses went hand in hand.
Every party you went to, Steve was there, holding court among his adoring subjects. The guys on campus thought he was the coolest guy who ever lived, and the girls were practically stepping over each other for a chance with him. You attempted to keep your distance, but Steve loved annoying you more than he loved the girls begging to go up to his bedroom.
Delta Gamma also partnered with Sigma Chi for just about everything. As the top houses, it was just a given. Every event, every fundraiser, every charity event and mixer and rager. As much as you adored everything about your sorority and had never felt like youâd made the wrong choice, Steve was the one thing that made you question it.
It was no secret, either. Everyone knew you and Steve hated each other. Steveâs frat brothers found it hilarious, while your sisters tried their best to keep you away from each other. You just couldnât get alongâbeing in each otherâs space for too long always ended in disaster. A loud argument, heated insults, or sometimes even a thrown drink, if Steve was feeling extra mouthy that night. You were best kept far away from one another.
Youâd grown close with another girl whoâd pledged Delta Gamma, Nancy. Nancy was sweet and smart and although you loved all your sisters, youâd clicked with her immediately. Nancy also happened to know Steve well. Theyâd grown up together, even dated briefly in high school.
âSteve is an asshole,â Nancy had told you, confirming everything you already thought. âSeriously, donât let him try to charm you. Heâs full of it.â
It kind of seemed like you and Nancy were the only ones who saw it, though. Of course there were the girls heâd already scorned, but the vast majority of the Ohio State female student population were head over heels for Steve Harrington. You couldnât help but roll your eyes every time you saw it.
That would never be you.
Your junior year had just begun, and by the end of September, homecoming season was well underway. Sigma Chi had already partnered with Delta Gamma, a surprise to no one.
What was a surprise was that you had a chance at being crowned queen this year. Homecoming court was something youâd never given much thought to. Your attention was already divided in so many directionsâbetween your classes and honor society, track, event planning and sorority obligations with being Social Chair, and being a TA for the first time this year, you were booked and busy. The crown was the least of your concern. Even now, you didnât stress about it. Everyone knew your chapter president, Lindsey, would be taking the crown anyway.
The week of homecoming itself was always busy and filled with excitementâstuffed full of events and activities, a good chunk of which you had a hand in planning. But still, courting had begun, and Tommy Hagan had been going all out to catch your attention.
It started with a bouquet of flowers so huge you had to divide them up into three different vases just to display them in a way that didnât look ridiculous. Then, it was the food. Fruit baskets, a mini cake, so much of your favorite candy and chocolate you had to beg your sisters to eat some of it. The day you walked out of the house to the entire OSU choir serenading you on the front lawn, youâd been utterly speechless.
Tommy was nice enough, you guessed. If you had to partner with someone, he wasnât the worst choice. That would be Steve Harrington, who, by expectations aloneâbecause Steve didnât put much effort into anything that wasnât baseball or getting his dick wetâwas courting Lindsey. He didnât even have to try and he knew it.
There was a new gift or grand gesture from Tommy daily, while Steve had sent a single box of milk chocolates, a half dozen and definitely the cheapest on the shelf even though everyone knew the Harringtons were absolutely loadedâand Lindsey was allergic to dairy. You could tell she was annoyed about it, but she was going to partner with Steve regardless. Every time you brought another elaborate gift into the house, the look she gave you was cold and cutting. It wasâŠawkward.
At least for now, you could push thoughts of homecoming from your brain. It was Saturday night, and you were ready to have some fun. Or at least try to, because you were about to walk right into King Steveâs kingdom.
Youâd think you would have gotten used to his presence by now, but he never got any less annoying. Itâs not like you could just skip every party. Everyone knew Sigma Chi threw the best parties of any frat on campus. Were you just not supposed to go because the president was a total pain in the ass? You could kiss your social status goodbye real fast.
Sometimes youâd get lucky and wouldnât see him at all the whole night. Maybe just a flash of his stupid hair, or the sound of his laugh from another room. A glimpse at his cocky smirk as he led some poor girl up to his room. And other nights, he seemed hell bent on annoying you as much as possible.
You really, really hoped for the former tonight. You walked into the house with Nancy and Margot, the bass already thumping, the place overrun with college students in various states of intoxication. You looked good, you knew you did. Tiny skirt that showed off your legs, a top that displayed just enough chest to have guys staring every time they walked past. Not that that was hard.
âDo you want me to get us drinks?â Nancy asked, leaning over to yell over the music right in your ear. You nodded, and she gave you a soft smile before pushing her way through to the kitchen.
There was no sign of Steve so far, which you hoped was a good omen. Your eyes scanned the room, mostly familiar faces, but a decent amount of freshmen you hadnât gotten to know well yet were there, too.
Nancy was back quickly, walking through the crowd holding the two red cups up high in an attempt to not spill them or get anything on her white blouse. She let out a sigh of relief when she finally reached you, handing you a drink.
âItâs a total madhouse in there,â she said. âLike, more than usual.â
âHow many new pledges are there this year?â you asked, taking a sip of your beer. You linked hands with Nancy and began pushing through to the living room. You eventually found a place to stand against the wall, surveying the rest of the party.
âI have no idea,â she said. Her curls were pulled back on top with a bow, and she held her drink between both delicate hands. âItâs gotta be more than last year, right?â
It certainly seemed like it. The Sigma Chi parties were always intense, but it felt like you could barely move. âWith Harrington in charge this year, who knows.â
Nancy rolled her eyes. âGod, I know. When I heard he was president, I almost thought about dropping out.â
You laughed, shaking your head and taking another sip of your beer. âAt least in two more years, Iâll never have to see him again.â
âLucky you,â Nancy grumbled. âIâm sure Iâll always be seeing him at some point when Iâm back in Hawkins for holidays. Itâs like I canât escape him.â
The sound of your name being called caught your attention. You looked around, looking for the sourceâand saw Tommy Hagan on his way over, hand held up in a wave and a bright smile on his freckled face.
âHere comes your loverboy,â Nancy mumbled into her cup, looking away like she was minding her own business.
âHey,â Tommy said as he reached you. He wasnât as bad as Steve, but they were best friends and looked like they could have shared a wardrobe. He wore a dark red polo and jeans, one hand now in his pocket and the other holding his own drink. âWow, you look beautiful.â
âThanks,â you smiled politely. âUm, thanks for the flowers this morning. Blue this time, huh?â
âYeah,â he said, his smile somewhat sheepish as he ran a hand through his short hair. âI was thinking, like, a different bouquet for every color of the rainbow, or something.â
You nodded, eyebrows raised. âOoh, yeah. I see the vision.â
A soft blush colored the pale skin on his cheeks. âDid you like them?â
He was being so sweet, you couldnât help but soften. You werenât interested in Tommy romantically, but you were happy to partner with him if thatâs what he wanted. âThey were beautiful. Seriously.â His eyes lit up, and at the fear of yet another bouquet to make your bedroom look even more like a greenhouse, you added, âBut I am starting to run out of room to put vases.â
Tommy laughed softly, looking down at the floor. âYeah. Maybe I should try to get creative.â
A shout came from the sliding glass back door, drawing all of your attention behind him. âHagan! Come out here and show the new brothers how a keg stand is done!â
Tommy turned back to you. âSorry. Duty calls, I guess,â he said, although he didnât look all that sorry. Sigma Chi took their keg stands very seriously. âIâll catch you around later though, yeah? Youâre not planning to turn in early or anything?â
âIâll be here,â you confirmed, drinking from your cup again. âGo show âem, Hagan.â
His grin only widened. âSee you later, beautiful.â
You watched him go, laughing softly as he immediately switched gears from gentleman to frat bro the second he reached the back door.
âPlease let him be done with the bouquets,â Nancy said as soon as he was gone, done acting like she hadnât been paying attention the whole time. âIâve already got half of the flowers in my room.â
The party went on, and eventually you lost Nancy to the crowd. Sheâd started seeing this guy a few weeks ago, Vance, a transfer student who had her totally smitten like youâd never seen before. While Nancy had always been your partner at these partiesâmore like your shield from Steve Harringtonâsheâd started wanting to spend more time with Vance, and who were you to stop her?
It wasnât until later in the night, when you were leaning against the wall with yet another drink, that you finally saw him. Or heard him, rather, because his obnoxious loud voice and laugh usually entered a room before he did. At least he had a warning bell, you thought.
When Steve entered the living room with his friends, telling some story that was definitely not funny enough to warrant how hard they were laughing, you thought about making a run for it. But then his eyes locked with yours from across the room, and he shot you that stupid fucking smirk that made you irritated immediately. And he knew it.
He stared at you even while he kept talking to his friends, and you stared back. He liked to do these little power plays. Even the women around him werenât drawing his attention away. And finally, much to your disappointment, he turned away long enough to excuse himself before walking straight for you.
You really regretted not making your escape while you had the chance.
Steve greeted you by your last name, something none of the other guys did, since they cared about actually impressing you. âHow sweet of you to grace my house with your presence. I almost didnât expect you to show.â
You scoffed. âJust because youâre president this year doesnât mean youâre specialââ
âActually, it does,â he smirked. âThis is my kingdom, baby.â He held his arms out, as if the opulent house crammed full of sweaty, drunk college students was supposed to impress you. âAnd youâre talking to the king.â
You couldnât have rolled your eyes harder if you tried. âDo you even hear yourself when you talk? Itâs like everything you say comes from the official douchebag handbook.â
His smirk only widened. âMaybe it does. Maybe I even wrote it.â
âSteve, Iâm not even sure you can read.â You shook your head, looking off to the side, searching for any lifeline out of this conversation with your least favorite person on earth. âWhy are you over here bothering me, anyway? Donât you have some poor girl to flatter long enough to get in her pants?â
âIâd much rather get under that skirt,â he quipped. When your head snapped back in his direction, eyes practically glowing with the fire behind them and the promise of pouring your drink all over his dark blue shirt and stupid khakis, he held his hands up in mock surrender. âOkay, okay,â he laughed. âI came over because you looked fucking miserable. Why do you always look so bored? Youâre at a party.â
âIâm not bored,â you retorted simply.
âCouldâve fooled me,â he said, leaning a hand against the wall next to you. âYou look pissed off to even be here.â
âThatâs because youâre talking to me.â
Steve laughed, which was maybe your least favorite sound in the world. âEvery time I see you here, you look bored. Like you think youâre too good to even be here.â
âWell, unfortunately, Sigma Chi has the most annoying guy possible as their president, soâŠâ you trailed off, a hand on your hip. You took a sip from your beer again, but you would need a lot more alcohol to make Steveâs presence bearable.
He hummed, as if he were considering it. âI donât know. I think you feel like youâre above all this.â He gestured around the room. âWhy would you join a sorority if you hate parties so bad?â
âI donât hate parties,â you argued. And it was trueâyou didnât. You could have plenty of fun at a party. You were Social Chair.
âWell, whatever it is, youâre bringing down the mood,â he said. He downed the rest of his own drink, sitting the empty plastic cup on the mantel, where it would surely sit until some poor pledges were tasked with cleaning the whole place tomorrow.
âI donât think anyone cares what Iâm doing,â you muttered. âOther than you, for some fucking reason.â
Steve grinned again. âI know what you need.â
âYeah?â You raised your eyebrows. âIs it for you to leave me alone and never speak to me again? Because I could agree with that.â
âYou need to get high.â
That made you pause. âWhat?â
His smile grew. âI think you need to loosen up. Like, a lot.â He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, back towards the staircase. âI could roll us a joint. I wanted to go smoke anyway.â
You just blinked at him. âYouâreââ You were genuinely stunned. âYouâre inviting me to go up to your room and smoke? This isnât, like, some weird attempt to have sex, right? Because that is never gonna happenââ
âNo, Jesus,â he laughed. âI just think you need to stop being so damn uptight for once. It would help, believe me.â
âIâve smoked before, Iâm not some prude,â you mumbled, because you knew thatâs exactly what Steve saw you as. âIf youâre offering, why canât you just, likeâŠroll me one and bring it back down here?â
âI keep the good shit hidden in my room,â he shrugged. âOtherwise, these assholes would steal it all. They donât need to know about it.â
You hesitated, because no matter how badly you wanted to accept the invitation for some free weed, it came with a costâspending time one on one with Steve Harrington. He looked at you expectantly while you looked around the room, biting the inside of your cheek as you fought with yourself over it.
âFine,â you said finally. âBut we smoke, and then Iâm coming right back down here and finding Nancy.â
âDeal,â he smirked. âAt least youâll be more fun. We have a reputation here, you know.â
You rolled your eyes yet again as he turned, leading the way back to the staircase. The crowd always seemed to part for Steve like he was true royalty, a deep seated respect that you personally would never understand. Your eyes darted around to every face you passed, absolutely mortified at the idea of someone seeing you following him upstairs, but no one seemed to notice.
The polished wood of the banister was smooth beneath your palm as you followed. Youâd never even been up these stairs at all, the second floor a total mystery you had never been too eager to uncover. Steveâs shoes thudded against the shining hardwood floors, passing room after room occupied with couples, some of them not even bothering to close the door all the way. You scrunched your face up in disgust at one particularly shameless makeout session with the bedroom door wide open.
Steve reached a room at the end of the hall, turning to look at you over his shoulder before turning the doorknob, as if it were some grand reveal. You had to admitâonly to yourselfâbut you were a little curious about what waited on the other side.
You trailed into the room behind him, closing the door behind you. You looked around as Steve kneeled by his bed, pulling out a shoebox. The bedroom was neat, bed made, clothes put away besides the ones piled in the laundry hamper. There was a desk with a lamp, soft light shining over a mess of papers and textbooks. His dresser was cluttered with hair products and a few bottles of expensive cologne. There were a few posters tacked to the walls, mostly sports related, a few of scantily clad women, and the yearâs OSU baseball schedule. He had a bookshelf against one wall, holding his textbooks and a staggering amount of baseball trophies. A framed team photo sat on one shelf, along with one of all the Sigs taken at the beginning of the semester.
âHaving fun?â Steve asked, making you jump slightly as you turned to look at him. He was sitting on his bed now, the shoebox open next to him. He was smiling at you as his fingers worked dexterously to roll the joint. âDidnât know you could be so nosy.â
You scoffed, but your cheeks felt a little hot. âShouldnât have stuff sitting out if you donât want people to look at it.â
He laughed. âYou can look at whatever you want.â He licked along the seam of the joint, perfectly rolled. âGo ahead and search the whole room, if you want. The porn mags are in that drawer.â He nodded towards his nightstand.
You scrunched your face up. âEw. Youâre so gross.â
Steve laughed again as he put his baggie of weed and papers back in the box, pushing it beneath his bed again. You took a seat on the plush carpet, back leaning against his dresser. He placed a muscular arm on the end of the bed frame and lowered himself to the floor to sit across from you.
âYou can do the honors if you want,â he offered, holding the joint out towards you.
There was a moment of hesitation before you reached forward, taking it from his fingers. âI donât understand why youâre being nice to me,â you said, brows furrowed even as you placed the joint between your lips, flicking the lighter and holding the flame to the end.
âIâm not being nice to you,â he said. He still had that same look he always had when he looked at you, like it was one of his lifeâs greatest joys to piss you off, to get you worked up and upset. âLike I said, youâre ruining my party. Canât have word spreading around campus that people are here looking bored. Sigs are the party kings of campus, and thatâs not changing, especially not with me in charge.â
âOh, right,â you said, exhaling that first cloud of smoke. âThe new ruler canât appear weak, and all that.â
âExactly,â he smirked. He watched you take another hit, then leaned forward, accepting the joint back from you and taking a long pull himself.
âI donât think anyone pays as much attention to me as you do, Steve,â you said. That warm feeling was starting to settle over you, and he was rightâyou were relaxing already. It was the first time youâd been in a room with him and didnât want to scream or punch him.
His gaze was heavy on you as he hit the joint, looking at you with that intensity he always seemed to hold when you were in a room together. But now it was making you fidget, the room suddenly feeling hot.
âWho says I pay attention to you?â he finally asked. His voice was lower now, and when he leaned forward to pass the joint back to you, your fingers brushed together. It sent a jolt through your body, and you jerked your hand back quickly, bringing it to your lips to give yourself time to think before you spoke again.
âItâs kind of obvious.â Smoke billowed from your lips as you responded. The room was growing thick with it, a haze surrounding you both in and outside of your head. âAlways staring at me, coming over just to annoy meâŠâ
âItâs fun,â he admitted, laughing softly. He ran a hand through his hair, starting to lose its shape and flop into his wide hazel eyes. âEvery time you get mad, you get that cute little furrow between your eyebrows, your lips get all pouty, and you roll your eyes about a million times.â
You pausedâand then giggled, leaning forward to pass the joint back. âSeriously? I told you, you pay attention to me.â
Your laughter was starting to get Steve going too. He took another pull. âI mean, I notice things that are nice to look at. Iâm only a man, after all.â
The laughter felt like something you could no longer control, bubbling up in your chest and filling Steveâs bedroom much like the smoke in the air. It was contagious, the two of you laughing together as you finished off the joint.
âYou know you always say the cheesiest stuff possible,â you giggled, your body fully relaxed into the floor at this point. Your limbs felt heavy in the best way, like every bit of tension in your muscles had faded. âItâs kind of amazing how everyone thinks youâre so cool, because youâre kind of a total dork.â
Steve laughed hard, his head tilting back. You couldnât help but notice the strong column of his throat, the way the muscles flexed in his neck and chest. âI have to get creative,â he said, fixing his eyes back on yours once again. âI aim to keep you entertained, after all.â
âI guess you do,â you smiled. âAnnoyed, yes. Bored? Never.â
He watched you for a minute, something thoughtful seeming to cross his face. Your eyes locked in that way they often did, just staring. Seeing each other. Steve always had a way of making you feel like he could see right through you, and it made you wonder if he felt the same about you, too.
The fact that you were enjoying Steveâs company seemed to strike you all at once. It was confusingâmaybe concerningâbut for now, you were too high to care. Heâd been right. This was what you needed.
Steve nudged your foot with his own. âIâve never seen you look so peaceful,â he grinned. âWho knew there was more to you than being stuck up andâŠsnobby.â
You snorted a laugh. âFuck you, Harrington.â
The grin on his face grew. âOh, would that help you relax some more?â he said, looking a little too proud of himself. âBecause Iâd be happy to help you with that, too.â
Your eyes widened, and Steve was pretty sure you were about to tell him off againâbut then you tossed your head back, laughing harder than heâd ever heard from you. âOh my god. In your dreams.â
Steve smirked, that same look youâd grown to know as cocky and insufferable, but right now, you didnât seem to mind it. It was endearing, almost. Handsome, maybe. âBaby, you let me fuck you, and youâll be dreaming about it for months.â
Itâs like everything he said, every stupid, corny line that would usually have you irritated, was suddenly the funniest thing youâd ever heard. âYou really think youâre godâs gift to women, huh?â
âI know I am.â He tilted his head to the side, body relaxed as he leaned back against his bed frame. âNever heard a single complaint.â
âThatâs because girls know how to fake it,â you mumbled. âGuys can never tell.â
âOh, I can tell.â His hands flexed where they rested on his thighs, the veins beneath his skin suddenly extremely distracting. âSome guys canât, sure. But I know the difference between some fake pornstar moans to boost some pathetic dudeâs ego, and how it really feels to make a girl fall apart.â
Your cheeks felt hot now. Your whole body did, even though your outfit didnât cover much skin. âYouâre not that good in bed.â
âHow would you know?â he asked, looking at you with genuine curiosity and something like delight.
âI can just tell,â you answered quickly, looking down at the soft beige carpet beneath your bare thighs. âGuys never care about making girls feel good. Just themselves.â Thatâs how it had been with every guy youâd ever slept with. Not a single one had been different.
âIâm not other guys,â Steve said, voice lower now. It made your breath hitch in your throat, slowly raising your head to look at him. He was still smiling at you, but there was something different behind his eyes now, something heavy and burning.
You returned his smile, laughing softly even as you felt your heart speed up in your chest. âYeah, well. I donât think any guy is different in that department.â
âYou wanna bet?â
That almost earned him another eye roll (playful this time, but still)âuntil he shifted, moving over to sit next to you. You tensed as you felt his shoulder brush against yours, feeling both electricity and heat even through the fabric of your clothes.
âSteveâŠâ
His large hand came up slowly. Now he was looking at you in a way youâd never seen from him before. The familiar cocky smirk was gone, his soft lips parted slightly as his eyes raked over every part of you like he wanted to memorize the way you looked right now. Your chest rose and fell with your heavy breaths, watching his intense gaze travel slowly, taking his time. From your eyes, to your lips, down your throat. Lower, to your chest, but not in the pervy way heâd done in the past. No, it wasnât thatâit wasâŠreverent. Like he was seeing something holy.
His hand finally moved, brushing your hair back softly. It made you draw in a sharp breath, chills spreading across the skin of your neck where heâd made contact.
âI like you like this,â he said, voice low and quiet. His eyes were locked on the side of your neck, where heâd just touched.
It took you a second to find your voice, although it came out more like a whisper. âLikeâŠwhat?â
âHappy,â he said. His gaze finally moved to your eyes. âComfortable. Real.â His eyes dropped to your lips. âYou know, youâre really pretty when you smile like that.â
You were pretty sure you had to be dreaming, because in no world were you sitting in Steveâs bedroom while he looked at you like that. Like he wanted to kiss you. Like he was actually moving in, leaning in slowly to close the distance as if giving you all the chance in the world to run awayâ
You didnât. Your eyes fell closed and then, with the force of a meteor crashing into the earth despite how soft and gentle it was, his lips met yours. His hand rested against the side of your neck while yours moved up to grip onto his bicep. He tilted his head slightly and your lips slotted together perfectly, moving together with a practiced kind of confidence and a sense of rightness you never should have felt with Steve Harrington ever.
There was no time to think with the way he was kissing you, slow and deep but utterly consuming. It was careful at first, exploratory. It felt so good, your lips moving with his like it was second nature. Steve was a good kisser. You knew he had plenty of experience, and itâs not like you didnât, but he was taking the lead and you were happy to let him.
His tongue traced along your bottom lip, and you parted your lips on instinct. His tongue met yours with a soft groan that had you digging your nails into his arm through the sleeve of his shirt, pulling him closer.
Steve laid you back on the soft carpet with way more care than youâd ever seen him show anything. He braced himself on a strong arm planted next to your head, never breaking the kiss for a single second. His body hovered over yours, one knee moving between your thighs where your skirt had fallen up around your waist, pressing against you through your panties. His free hand rested on your hip now, holding onto you. You let out a soft moan against his lips, delirious from every point of contact, rocking your hips down against his leg to feel that friction you craved so desperately.
He groaned, moving from your mouth to kiss across your jaw, down to your neck, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin, giving you chills. Your breaths were coming in hard and heavy now, holding onto his broad shoulders like a lifeline, eyes closed as you felt every sensation he provided.
âSo pretty,â he murmured against your neck, grinding his knee against you to meet every needy movement. He nipped lightly at the sensitive spot below your ear. You could feel his smirk against your skin when you gasped, hips bucking against him in response. It made no sense how he knew exactly what to do, like he somehow knew your body better than you did.
âSteveâŠâ you whimpered, the only word your brain could conjure.
âThatâs it, baby,â he said. His breath was hot against your skin, sucking at your neck, biting then soothing the sting with his tongue. âLet me hear you. Gonna make you feel so good.âÂ
The hand on your hip slowly slid up the smooth skin of your side, rucking your shirt up. You sat up long enough to help him pull it off completely, leaving you in the lacy bra you wore beneath. He wasted no time lowering his head to mouth at the top of your breasts, practically burying his face in them, kissing and sucking and biting at the exposed skin.
âAlways had the best fucking tits,â he moaned, losing himself in a way you could only describe as worshipful. He reached behind you to unhook your bra easily, pulling it away and tossing it to the side. He pulled back to look down at your body, the look in his eyes one of pure hunger. âActually insane fuckinâ pair, Jesus Christ.â
You laughed, because yeah, there was the Steve you knew. That laugh turned into a gasp, then a moan, when he leaned down and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples.
âFuck,â you gasped, hands shooting up to tangle in his hair. âOh my godââ
He swirled his tongue around the stiff peak, groaning as he sucked on it. He grabbed the other, massaging your breast in his large hand, slightly calloused from years of pitching. The friction on your sensitive, hardened nipple was maddening, back arching and pushing your tits further into his face.
He never let up with the movements against your soaked cunt, either, even as he switched back and forth between your tits. Your clit was swollen and throbbing and begging for more, and you were pretty sure your panties were utterly ruined. You could feel the pleasure building in your core with an intensity that felt like it would completely take your breath away.
Youâd never had a guy make you cum in your life, and now Steve Harrington was about to do it in five minutes, fully clothed, with his fucking thigh?
Steve could sense the tension coiling in your bodyâand he pulled away, taking away every delicious ounce of pleasure heâd been building.
Your eyes opened, still heavy lidded and hazy. âWhatâ?â
âMy bed,â he said, and you noticed he was breathing hard, too. âNot gonna fuck you for the first time on the floor.â
You didnât give yourself time to think about his words. He helped you up, then pulled you into another frantic kiss as you both shed clothes as fast as you could with your lips still attached, utterly desperate for each other.
Steveâs mattress creaked softly as you fell back onto it, now in nothing but your panties. You moved back towards his pillows, leaning up on your elbows as you watched him.
God, he looked good with his shirt off, you absolutely hated to admit. He had thick hair covering his chest, which was muscular and strong, but his stomach was still a little soft. His skin was sun-kissed, those moles dotting his body all over. The desire to kiss every single one of them surged suddenly within you, but you pushed the thought away. That wasâŠintimate.
His gaze remained heavy on you as he worked his belt open without drawing away his attention once. The way he looked at you was like a starving man preparing for a feast. Your thighs were slightly parted, and he didnât miss how damp your panties were. For him.
Finally down to his boxer briefs alone, you could see more of him than you ever had before. He was fully hard, the outline of his dick visible as it strained against the thin, snug material.
And the rumors were true.
âJesus,â you breathed. That cocky smirk returned to his face as he watched your wide-eyed stare. Truthfully, he was used to that reaction. âYouâreâŠâ
âI know, baby,â he purred, crawling onto the bed over you. He leaned down, peppering kisses along your legs as he moved higher along your body. âItâll fit. Iâll be careful. âm gonna take care of you like you deserve.â
It felt like you were melting into the soft sheets and comforter surrounding you. Steve was taking his time, placing hot, open mouthed kisses against your calf, his hand roaming up the other leg in time with his mouth. He rose higher, over your knee, up the inside of your thigh.
He laid on his stomach between your legs, kissing and nipping all along the sensitive skin of both inner thighs. Your legs trembled. The sight of him there, with his mouth all over you, was almost too overwhelming to even take in. Your head dropped against his pillows, just giving in to his every desire, your body coming alive with every touch. Trusting him.
âYouâre so wet for me,â he breathed in pure admiration. His nose nuzzled against your core through the thin material, and you drew in a sharp gasp. He looked up at you from between your legs, fingers moving to dip beneath the waistband of your panties. âHas anyone ever tasted you before?â
You froze as you realized what he was asking you, what he was planning to do. By the time you found your words, heâd already slipped the delicate material down and off your body. You shuddered as you felt his breath against your pussy, cool against the wetness there, for him.
âIââ You jolted when you felt him rub his nose against your folds, breathing in the intoxicating scent of you. Your whole body was flushed and hot. ââŠNo.â
Steve groaned. The idea of being the first to pleasure you like this had his cock throbbing between his body and the mattress. âFuckinâ idiots,â he grumbled, drinking in the sight of you for a little longer before he finally moved in, dragging his tongue against your cunt, moaning like heâd never tasted anything better. âYou have the perfect fuckinâ pussy. Tastes so sweet.â
Your hips jerked against his mouth, crying out at that first unfamiliar contact. You heard his low chuckle, but there was no humor behind it, just pure want. He dove in, devouring you properly.
The feeling of his tongue against you was more intense than youâd anticipated. Your fingers tangled in his perfect hair, making a mess of it, pulling just hard enough to earn a groan from his chest that vibrated against your clit. You were nearly seeing stars already, hips rocking up against his mouth as he flicked his tongue against the swollen nub, sucking gently before moving down to your hole. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was pulling you apart piece by piece until you could hardly stand it.
Youâd heard of this before, of course you had. Your sorority sisters had mentioned it a few times, and youâd seen it in that trashy porno you, Nancy, and Carol had spent the night giggling at after sharing a joint and some vodka crans. But you always thought of it as a myth. No man youâd ever been with had even offered, even if youâd gone down on him first. You figured it was something guys just didnât do, or at least something they didnât want to do.
Not Steve, apparently, because he was worshipping you like he could have spent hours with his face buried between your legs. His skilled tongue worked against you in all the right ways, moaning against you and grinding his hips against the bed, even harder if you tugged on his hair, which you were quickly learning he liked.
âSteveââ you gasped, body writhing and arching beneath him. âOh my god, Iâ-â
âThatâs it,â he praised, pulling away from you just long enough to speak, eyes glazed and lips and chin shining with your wetness, before diving in again. âDoing so good for me, sweetheart. Youâre so fucking hot.â
You whimpered when you felt his thick finger pressing against your entrance, moaning as he pushed inside while his mouth focused on your clit again. With how wet you were, he slid inside easily, fucking you before quickly adding a second finger. He curled them deep inside, pressing against something that nearly had you screaming his name loud enough for the whole party to hear.
âSteve!â you gasped, one hand still tangled in his hair while the other gripped onto the pillow, feeling like you would actually float away if you didnât hold on. The pleasure he was giving you was nearly overwhelming, your body beginning to tremble harder as that coil tightened again, faster and more intense this time. He slipped in a third, fucking you deep, stretching you around his thick fingers.
âGotta get you ready for me,â he panted, dragging his tongue through your folds one more time just to taste you. âFuck. Youâre so good, gonna take me so well, every fuckinâ inch, I know you will. Gonna stretch so perfectly around my cock.â
A whine crawled its way from your throat, hips rocking against his fingers as he fucked you deep with them, pressing against that bundle of nerves that had you losing your mind. âSteveâŠSteveâŠoh fuck, Iâmââ
He didnât let up with his fingers for a single second. But it was when he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking, while his fingers thrusted in hard and deep, that made it finally snap.
Your vision went white, your body tensing and mouth dropping open in a scream that was silent at first, before you let out what were probably the most pornstar-worthy sounds youâd ever made in your life. âSteve! Oh, fuck!â
Steve groaned at the sound, lapping up every bit of you, letting you grind your pussy against his tongue and working you through every shuddering aftershock until your body went limp beneath him. When he finally pulled back, you fully expected him to look up at you with that look he almost always wore, the one that made him look so proud of himself, so punchable. But instead he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before sucking his fingers clean greedily, looking down at your body with that same heated, wanting expression.
He sat up on his knees. You didnât think it was possible before but he was even harder now, a wet spot on his boxers at the tip of his cock where heâd been absolutely dripping for you. His thumbs hooked into the waistband, pushing down just enough for you to get a glimpse of the hair that disappeared below.
âYou ready for me?â he asked, voice a low rumble.
You let out a shaky breath, looking up at him with wide eyes. ââŠYeah.â
Steve smirked down at you and pushed the material down in one go. His cock sprung freeâand it was even more impressive than it looked before. He was thick and long, a slight right curve, vein prominent along the underside. His tip was flushed red like he was real desperate, and glistening from the precum heâd been leaking the whole time he was taking care of you. Another drop was beading at his slit. Youâd never had a man look like he wanted you this bad.
You knew you were staring, and Steve certainly saw it, too. âSee something you like, baby?â
You let out a breathless laugh, but truthfully, you were in no position to crack a joke or even deny it. You simply watched as he shed the last bit of clothing completely, leaving you both completely bare in his bed.
He leaned over you and reached to open the bedside drawer. There really were porn mags in there, which might have made you laugh if you couldnât feel that thick length twitching against your thigh. He grabbed a condom and shoved the drawer closed, sitting back up on his knees. He ripped the foil packet open with his teeth and rolled it onto his cock.
When he leaned over your body again, one arm braced near your shoulder and the other stroking his cock slowly, your heart began to pound fast. There was that brief moment of Iâm really doing this, right now, with him, but youâd never wanted anything more in your life.
Steve lined the head of his cock up with your entrance. You were still soaked, so he wasnât worried, but you were. Youâd heard rumors of how some girls couldnât even take him, only getting him halfway in before giving up and jerking him off instead. You hadnât believed them, because starting a rumor about the size of his dick was absolutely something you could see Steve doing. But now you were here in his bed, seeing firsthand that it was very true.
He traced his cock up and down through your folds, coating himself in that slick wetness, showing a surprising amount of care. He placed hot, gentle kisses along your jaw as he did, voice a soft, low rumble in your ear.
âIâll go slow,â he promised, lips brushing against your skin. âYou donât like it, we donât have to. But Iâve got you, baby. Youâre so good, I think you can take it.â
You could hear the need in his voice, how badly he needed you to let him fuck you. But you also knew he was true to his word.
But, god, you wanted to take all of him. To show him you could, to feel him buried deep. To make him fall apart.
Steve kissed his way back to your lips, kissing you slow and deep, tongue massaging against yours. You felt the sting of the thick head of his cock pushing inside you, and you let out a soft whimper into the kiss. He moaned against you and pushed in just a little deeper.
âThatâs it,â he whispered between kisses. He grabbed your thigh with his left hand now, spreading you wide for him. âDoinâ so good, baby, letting me in.â He rolled his hips in shallow thrusts, just that little bit inside of you, sinking in another inch with every slow, deliberate thrust, working you open.
Your nails dug into his shoulders, but he kept your attention on him, entirely on the way he was kissing you. You werenât sure why or how but it was working, his slow, languid kiss distracting you from the sharp sting where he was stretching you around the girth of him, coaxing your body to relax.
The feeling of being filled was like nothing else. Sure, youâd had plenty of sex, but Steve made you feel absolutely stuffed full before he was even completely inside. He held your thigh up, keeping you open for him, your flexibility not lost on him. He rolled his hips in a few more slow thrustsâand then you felt his hips pressed flush against you.
âChrist,â he breathed, pulling back just enough to lean his forehead against yours. âSo perfect, baby, you fuckinââtook it all, Jesusââ
Youâd never heard Steve sound so utterly wrecked. He rolled his hips against you a few times, just enjoying the feeling of being completely sheathed inside your tight heat. And fuck, you were stretched around him perfectly, tight and hot. You felt like absolute heaven around his cock.
His cock throbbed inside you, so hard you could feel it. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, palms rubbing over his hot skin, a thin sheen of sweat coating it from the sheer effort of holding back from pounding into you.
âSteve,â you whimpered. Your cunt fluttered around him, and he dropped his head to your shoulder with a broken moan.
âYeah?â he rasped. His hips rocked lightly against you, betraying his desperation.
âYou canâŠâ You gasped as the coarse hair at his base rubbed against your clit, still so sensitive but aching for him again. ââŠYou can move.â
Steve moaned again, placing a few hot kisses against your neck as if thanking you. Finally he pulled his hips back, slowly withdrawing almost fully. Only his tip remained, and you could have cried at the loss of that perfect full feeling. But then he sank back inâslow at first, filling you to the brim again. Your desperate sounds of pleasure mixed together in the hot, charged air of his bedroom, a symphony intertwined much like your bodies.
âShit,â he cursed. He set a careful rhythm, every thrust measured and slow and deep. âYouâre taking me so fucking good. Fuuuuck. That pussy is fucking unreal.â
You could barely think straight. Your entire world narrowed down to the feeling of Steve inside of you, stretching you open perfectly. The sting was still there, but it was quickly fading into pure ecstasy with every movement of his hips. Your body was adapting to him like it was made for it.
Hands tangled in his hair again, you pulled him down into another messy kiss, all tongue and desperation, sloppy and hungry and hot. He groaned loudly into it, hips rutting into you faster.
Whines and whimpers and keening moans were spilling from your lips with little control. Your hips moved in time with his thrusts, meeting him every time. His cock was deeper than you thought possible, brushing against that spot that quickly had you gasping and babbling complete nonsense.
âFeels so good Steve, oh fuck, oh god, please donât stop, donât fucking stop Iâm gonna cum again, Steve please, oh godâ!â
Every word that tumbled from your lips was like fuel to the fire of his intense need. He couldnât hold back anymore, couldnât worry about if he might hurt you, too lost in the feeling of your body wrapped around him. His hips rocked against yours in a frantic pace now, his breaths coming in ragged pants, eyes locked on the way your tits bounced with the force of his thrusts. You arched your back and he leaned down to wrap his lips around a nipple again, moaning as he laved his tongue over it, eyes closed and completely pussydrunk, all because of you.
He sucked hard on your nipple one more time before letting go with a wet pop and sitting up on his knees. He held onto your waist and used your body, pulling you down onto his cock with every rough snap of his hips. His eyes were locked on the sight, watching himself disappear into your perfect cunt, seeing you stretch around him, take him whole.
âHoly fuck,â he panted. The sight of the muscles in his arms and chest flexing as he took what he needed from you, watching you with such heat, made you feel utterly delirious. He looked powerful and strong, like an absolute god. âJesus. Look how you take me, baby, fuck. Knew youâd be good, butââ His hips stuttered, eyes rolling back for a second. ââshit, holy fuckââ
âBaby,â you gasped, grabbing onto the pillow above your head. Your cunt was tightening, throbbing around him, soaking his cock. The sound of him driving into you was loud and obsceneâthe slick, wet sounds, the sound of his skin slapping against yours. You might have felt a little self conscious if you could think about anything other than his cock coaxing that second orgasm from your trembling body. âI canâtâoh god, Steve, pleaseâŠâ
âYou can do it,â he was nearly begging now, his cock beginning to twitch within your tight walls, so close to his own end but determined to get you there first. âCome on, baby, give it to me. Let me feel it. Cum all over my cock, show me how good it feels, how much you like getting fucked by me.â
You turned your head, biting down on a pillow you held to your face in an effort to muffle the scream that ripped from your lungs. Your body arched, cunt clenching around him as wave after wave of overwhelming, perfect pleasure washed over you. Your ears were ringing, moaning and gasping and babbling his name again and again.
âShit!â Steve cursed, hips pounding into you reckless and fast. âThatâs it, god yeah, let me feel itâoh fuckâyouâre so good, so fucking good baby, letting me fuck you like this, squeezing around meâshitâoh baby, gonna make meâgonna make me fuckinâ cumââ
His body pitched forward over yours, bracing himself on an arm and burying his face in your neck. His cock buried deep in you, hips snapping in a few more frantic, shallow thrusts before he tensed, his groan muffled against your skin as he spilled into the condom, repeating your name over and over, body shaking with the intensity.
Your head was spinning. You could hear your heart beating in your ears. Steveâs body was heavy on top of you, your sweat-slicked skin pressed together, as he tried to catch his breath. It was a minute of heavy silence before he finally slid his softening cock out of you, collapsing onto his back.
The loss of that glorious full feeling was disappointing, to say the least. But as Steve removed the condom from his spent cock, tying it off and tossing it into his trash can, the moment finally, properly, broke.
And you realized you were naked in Steve Harringtonâs bed. That you had fucked him.
The effects of the weed seemed to have worn off, leaving you feeling suddenly cold and exposed and panicked. Even as you began to freak out more and more, Steve looked totally fine, laying back against the headboard with an arm behind his head. His chest still rose and fell with heavy breaths, skin still shining with sweat, but he looked satisfied. Proud of himself in that way that always pissed you off, but especially now.
âSo,â he said, and like so many times before, heâd ruined it all the moment he opened his mouth. âYou let me fuck you after all, huh?â
âJesus Christ,â you muttered, sitting up and reaching for your clothes. You felt like you couldnât stand to be exposed like this to him for another second, holding every article of clothing you grabbed to your chest until you found it all.
Steve laughed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He didnât seem to have any qualms about being totally naked in front of you, comfortable in his own skin the way he always was. âThose panties might be ruined. They were pretty soaked. You can leave them here with me, if you want.â He grinned wider. âIâll keep them safe. Wonât even wash âem.â
âYouâre a pig,â you spat back at him. He wasnât exactly wrong, though. You didnât want to put them back on, but you werenât about to walk out of this room wearing that tiny skirt with nothing underneath.
âBut was I right?â
âAbout what?â you asked as you hooked your bra, roughly pulling your shirt back on. The scowl on your face was a permanent fixture at this point, which was amusing to him.
âThat Iâm good?â he raised his eyebrows, and the grin on his face told you he knew the real answer no matter what you said in response.
âYou werenât that good,â you mumbled. You pulled your skirt back onto your hips, grabbing your shoes.
Steve laughed. âOh, come on. Thatâs not what you were saying when you were practically riding my face, or when you were cumming on my dick, begging me not to stop.â His words made your face burn, unable to even say something smart in return. âYou donât have to lie to me, baby. I was there.â
Fully dressed now, you moved to his dresser mirror, trying to fix your appearance. âDonât call me baby.â
He crossed his ankles, just watching you with that infuriating grin. He made no move to cover any part of his body, his cock laying against his thigh. It was huge even when he was soft, which you hated that you even noticed.Â
âAw, whyâre you so mad now?â The condescending tone in his voice made you shiver with the effort of not losing your absolute shit. âPersonally, I had fun. And I just gave you your first orgasm everââ
âNot my first orgasm.â
âSorry, your first orgasm that you didnât give yourself.â He tilted his head, smirking. You could feel his eyes all over your body, shameless. âTwo of them, actually. So really, you should probably be thanking me.â
You barked out a laugh as you wiped a lipstick smudge from the corner of your mouth. You turned around, noticing for the first time that some of it had transferred to his face. âIâm not thanking you for shit. This never shouldâve happened.â
Steve watched you head for the door. He had no intention of stopping you. Heâd never let a girl stay in his bed after sex, and he wasnât about to start now. He moved lazily even as he sat up and began to grab his own clothes.
âYou can pretend you didnât like it all you want, baby,â he said, not even looking at you anymore as he pulled his boxer briefs back onto his legs. âBut you and I both know what happened in here tonight, and I donât think youâll be forgetting it any time soon.â
You held back a frustrated scream as you walked out of his bedroom, slamming the door behind you. Thankfully the music was loud enough that it didnât draw any attention. You stomped down the hallway and down the stairs, back into the chaos that now felt suffocating and overwhelming in a way it never had before.
You found Nancy in the kitchen, laughing with some of the other sisters. When she spotted you her expression turned serious, saying something to the girls before walking straight to you.Â
âWhere did you go?â she asked, reaching for your arm. Her hand was a little cold and every touch to your skin right now felt like a scalding burn, but you didnât pull away. âIâve been looking for you for ages.â
âJust got wrapped up talking to some people,â you mumbled, unable to make eye contact with her. âIâm gonna head home, though.â
Nancyâs brows furrowed. âNow? Already? Itâs still pretty early.â
âI just donât feel good,â you said. All you really wanted was to get back to the safety of your own bedroom and freak out about this in private. âYou donât have to leave.â
âNo, donât be silly. Iâm going with you.â She drained the last of the contents of her cup and tossed it into the nearby trash can, intertwining her fingers with yours. âThis party kinda sucked tonight, anyway.â
You smiled at her, genuinely grateful. Nancy was your best friend for a reason, and you loved her. But you could never tell her what happened tonight.
As you walked hand in hand to the front door, you felt a creeping feeling up your spine. Just as Nancy turned the doorknob, opening the door and letting the cool September air inside, you looked back over your shoulder.
Steve leaned against the railing upstairs, watching you. When you locked eyes, he lifted a hand in a wave, smiling down at you.
You left the house, letting the door close hard behind you.
Steve was haunting you.
Not even in the way he always had, constantly in the same places, an unavoidable physical presence. No, this was worse. He was in your head now. And for the first time ever, you felt you had actually been lucky before.
The night after that first fateful mistake, youâd gotten back to the house, told Nancy you didnât feel good, and went straight to bed. You removed your clothes from the party, shoved that pair of panties straight in the trash. You didnât think you could ever look at them again.
Sleep didnât come easily. You laid in bed, thinking about Steve and what youâd done without a momentâs reprieve. It was miserable, but you figured it was normal. Something terrible had just happened after all; a horrible mistake had been made, so of course you were going to think about it. It would fade. You would feel better tomorrow.
The problem was that it never stopped.
You woke up thinking about Steve. Went to class thinking about him. Every time you saw him on campusâand he always saw you first, smirking at you and giving you that douchebag nod, or a casual wave that he knew was anything butâyou averted your eyes and headed quickly in the other direction.
If the fact that youâd done it at all didnât disgust you enough, it was nothing compared to the horrible truth. That youâd liked it. Loved it. Wanted more. He really was the best youâd ever had, and you didnât think heâd ever done a single thing that had pissed you off more than that.
Of all the guys youâd been with, guys who were plenty hot and popular and well liked, not a single one of them had ever cared about your pleasure in any way. They were only interested in getting themselves off. You were pretty sure they wouldnât have been able to find the clit if theyâd even bothered to try.
But Steve? He had absolutely rocked your world exactly like he promised. The only orgasms youâd ever experienced had been by your own hands, and you figured no one ever would or could know your body better than you did. How did he know the exact right places to touch, the right things to do? Every girl was different, right? Did he have some kind of stupid fucking superpower?
He had you completely spiraling. You felt like you were losing your mind. Even Nancy and Carol and the other girls noticed there was something up with you. Nancy was the only one who asked, but you quickly made up some excuse about being stressed over classes and homecoming. Tommy was still doing everything in his power to win you over, but there was only one Sigma Chi member on your mind at all hours, day and night.
You laid in bed at night with the memory haunting you. His mouth, his tongue, his fingers, his stupidly huge dick that he knew exactly how to use, that heâd taken so much care with so he wouldnât hurt you. How hard youâd cum when he went down on you, the way he made you cum again with nothing but his cock. The memories replayed through your mind nonstop until the ache between your thighs became unbearable and you couldnât help it anymore, your hand slipping beneath your shorts and panties and burying your moans in your fist until you came moaning his name, picturing his face the way he looked staring up at you from between your legs.
That was the worst of it, the guilt and confusion and disappointment you felt when it was over. When you were laying there in the quiet dark of your bedroom, realizing that you were really, truly fucked.
You wanted Steve. You wanted him bad. And you didnât think you could keep lying to yourself.
By the time the next party came around, you were done even trying to pretend.
You spent a little extra time getting ready in your bedroom, picking out a cute little dress after trying on nearly everything in your closet. It was form fitting, short, and a bit revealing. You knew it would catch his attention. You honestly werenât sure why you were even trying, since youâd never had to try to get him to notice you before, even when you desperately didnât want him to.
When you met Nancy and Carol in the front room, their eyes widened at the sight of you. âWoah. Thatâs the slut dress,â Carol remarked right away.
It made you laugh even as your skin flushed with embarrassment. It was true. This dress rarely ever came out, and when it did it was because you were going on a date you really wanted to end happilyâhence the nickname your friends had dubbed it with.
âIs there something you wanna tell us?â Nancy asked, her brows raised. âI mean, you look great, butâŠwhoâs it for?â
The question made you freeze for a moment, even though you shouldâve known theyâd ask. Of course they would. But you recovered quickly, making up a lie on the spot that you prayed sounded believable. âNo one in particular. JustâŠhoping to catch the attention of someone interesting, at least.â
That seemed good enough for Carol, who turned away and started digging through her purse to make sure sheâd packed her lipstick, but Nancy watched you a little longer. She was always so analytical with everything, and as your best friend, she knew you too well for you to get away with lying to her about much. And you hated lying to Nancy, you really did, but how would you explain this?
The three of you left Delta Gamma as a unit, arms linked together. The walk to the Sigma Chi house wasnât far, and it was a chilly evening, but nothing too bad. The bare skin of your thighs felt the sting of the cold the most, but before you knew it you were walking in the front door, the packed frat house instantly hot enough to make you grateful for the amount of skin you had showing.
For the first time, you were grateful to be separated from your girls so quickly. And, equally as unusual in this alternate dimension youâd somehow stepped intoâyou wanted to find Steve. Your eyes scanned each room for him, ears focused on listening for his voice. Something you couldnât explain led you to the backyard, a place you didnât often venture here.
The hot tub was on, and overcrowded. Some of the guys were in with a handful of girls, most sitting in someoneâs lap. A larger crowd just hung out on the back deck, some even into the yard beneath the lights. You heard the sound of his laughter quickly, turning your head to the left at the exact time he looked in your direction.
And god, you hated to admit it, but he looked good. His hair was once again perfectly styled, and he wore a long sleeve dark green shirt with a pair of jeans that he woreâŠreally, really well. They were tight, perfectly fitted, and you didnât know how youâd never known about his size when he wore pants like that. His ass looked great, too.
Fuck.
You locked eyes with him. He held your gaze for a minute, smirk on his face even as he kept talking to his friends. Then, for the first time everâhe turned away. Going right back to his conversation as if youâd never even been there at all.
You were stunned.
Never in the history of your time at OSU had Steve seen you and not immediately approached to piss you off. He had never dismissed you like that. If the rage hadnât already been boiling in your blood, it certainly was now.
You scoffed, turning around and walking back into the house. If he was expecting you to come to him, it wasnât gonna happen. It had never happened that way before and wasnât going to start now. Instead you pushed your way to the kitchen, heading straight to pour yourself a drink.
Just as you were reaching for one of the red plastic cups, another hand came around your shoulder and grabbed it before you could. You turned around, more confused than angry, to see Tommy Hagan standing right behind you, a warm smile on his freckled face.
âSorry,â he said sheepishly, looking like he just realized how awkward of a move it was. âI justâcan I get you a drink?â
You paused for a second. âUmâŠyeah, sure. Thanks.â
âNo problem,â he said, his expression becoming a little more comfortable at your acceptance. He moved around to the counter that held a keg and multiple bottles of liquor. It was surrounded by people, as it always was, but they moved for Tommy out of respect in the same way they did for Steve. âWhatâre you drinking?â
You scanned the selectionâthere was a bit of everything. Sigma Chi took pride in keeping the alcohol flowing at every party. âTequila?â
âYou got it.â Tommy grinned. He filled the red cup from the keg and passed it back to you, then reached for the bottle of tequila, pouring two shots. He handed one to you and held the other out in a toast.
You smiled softly as you gently tapped your cup against his, then brought it to your lips, downing the burning liquid with ease. Tommy laughed when you scrunched your face up in disgust for a second.
âYouâd think Harrington would splurge for the good shit,â Tommy said, leaning back against the counter as he looked at you. âI guess I canât complain about free alcohol, though.â
âTrue,â you smiled, even though you really didnât want to talk or think about Steve anymore, especially right now. âThanks. Again. For the drinks.â You held your beer up towards him before taking a sip.
âNo problem,â he said, a soft blush touching his pale skin. âPretty girls shouldnât have to pour their own drinks.â
Even though you didnât like Tommy as more than a friend, he really was sweet, and his attention made you feel good. Special. âWhat would I ever do without you, Tommy?â
He laughed, looking down at his shoes for a moment. âHey,â he said, meeting your eyes again. âI was just thinkingâŠif youâd maybe want to go out? MaybeâŠMonday?â
Your eyes widened. You hadnât actually expected him to ask you on a date. Your lips parted, closed, then opened again, but you couldnât figure out the right words to say.
âNothing serious,â Tommy said quickly, noticing your hesitation. âIt doesnât have to beâŠyâknow. I just thought we could maybe get some food, talk about homecomingâŠâ His soft smile returned. ââŠand, you know, Iâd really like to take you out.â
It was hard not to soften around him, especially with the way he spoke to you. Every Sig was great at turning on the charm, but there was something about Tommy that felt so genuine. And would it really be so bad to go out with him? âSure. That sounds good. My last class ends at 4?â
âGreat,â he said, the words leaving him in a breath of relief. âYeah, awesome. I can pick you up from DG? LikeâŠ6?â
âThatâs perfect,â you nodded. You drank from your beer again just as another Sig walked up to TommyâBilly Hargrove. You hadnât spoken to him much yourself, but he was nice to look at for sure. You knew a few of your sorority sisters had been out with him, and he had a bit of a reputation for being a ladies man. He had a gorgeous smile, tan skin, blue eyes, and dirty blonde hair that hung to his shoulders in soft, beautiful curls.
âHagan,â Billy said, clapping a hand on the other boyâs shoulder. He looked like he was about to say something else, but then his eyes landed on you. âWell. You didnât tell me you were busy entertaining DGâs most beautiful.â
Even though all these frat guys pulled the same cheesy lines, you still felt the heat rise to your skin. âHi, Billy.â
âHi, gorgeous.â He smiled down at you, showing off the dimple in his cheek. Something about it brought out the âsmiling shyly, twirling your hair around your fingerâ, teenage girl-type feeling buried deep within you. Tommyâs confident smile had dropped, now shifting awkwardly on his feet.
âUh, whatâs up, Hargrove?â Tommy asked, trying his best to look unbothered.
Billy glanced at him for just a second before those clear blue eyes found you again. âNo rush, Hagan. What, donât wanna share her attention?â His smile was bright and friendly, the kind that would have any girlâs heart beating fast.
âItâs notââ Tommy sighed, leaning back against the counter.
âWe were just talking,â you said, glancing between the two boys. There was an unspoken tension there, but you didnât dwell on it. âHowâs basketball?â
Billyâs smile grew. âItâs great. Weâve started conditioning. Right, Tommy?â he asked, turning around to look at his friend for only a moment, a weak attempt at acting like he had any intent to bring him into the conversation. âYou should come to some of our games this season. I think I play better when thereâs a pretty girl cheering for me.â
You laughed, the sound light and airy and genuine. âIs that right?â
Billy shrugged. âCould be just a theory, but why take the risk? Wouldnât be very good for school spirit if we didnât do everything possible to make sure we take home that championship, right?â
You rolled your eyes lightly as you laughed again, but it was more amusement than irritationânot like with certain people. âI guess thatâs true. We should all do our part.â
âExactly.â He smirked. âAnd maybe I can come watch you run some time. See that record-breaking sprinter Iâve heard so much about in action.â
You werenât sure why exactly, but it surprised you that he knew anything about your athletic achievements. It was talked about on campusâthe school loved to celebrate their top athletesâbut itâs not like most of the school cared about track and field the way they did about other sports. You were no Steve Harrington, star pitcher. âYeah, that would be cool. Iâd like that.â
âIâve heard youâre good. Like, insanely fast.â He leaned against the counter next to Tommy with an instinctual swagger, exuding the confidence that came so naturally to him. âAnd, uhâŠlong jump?â
âHigh jump,â you corrected, hiding your shy smile behind your cup as you sipped your beer again. âBut, yeah. Iâd love for you to come watch.â
âMaybe Iâll call you sometime.â Billy winked at you before finally acknowledging Tommy again. âHagan. Weâre waiting for you out back.â He looked back at you. âSorry, came over here to grab him and didnât expect to getâŠdistracted.â
âGo do your thing,â you said, waving your hand in some kind of vague gesture. You were starting to feel a slight buzz, at least. âHave fun. Donât let me hold you up.â
âIâll see you around,â Billy said with one last flash of that charming smile. When he looked back at Tommy, his expression was more serious, nodding his head towards the back in a silent command that didnât seem to have any other option.
Tommy smiled at you, but it was more forced, the comfort from before long gone. âIâll see you Monday,â he said. âIt wasâŠgood to talk to you. I hope you have fun the rest of the night.â
âBye,â you said softly, but he was already gone. You watched him trailing after Billy towards the back door, where Steve and some of the other guys waited, a cheer erupting as soon as they walked out the door. Frat boys.
Left on your own again, you tried to enjoy yourself. Bouncing around the house, talking with people you knew from around campus, from sports, from Greek life. Still, you couldnât shake the thought of Steve from your head. You knew what youâd come here to do, and even though you hated yourself for it, you hadnât changed your mind. You didnât think you could.
You saw him again a few times. Through the back door, in the living room, passing him in the hallway on the way to the bathroom, where he bumped into your shoulder and turned around long enough to smirk at you before walking on like it was nothing. Every time you saw him he saw you too, but he didnât approach you once. It had you fuming.
A few hours into the party, unfortunately, you were getting desperate.
When you walked into the kitchen for another refill, you saw him again. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest with one hand holding his cup, talking to some girl you couldnât name. You werenât jealousâyou were not jealousâbut it just made you even angrier. Especially when he glanced at you for just a moment before turning back to her.
This was humiliating. It was demeaning. You hated it. You hated him. But you swallowed your pride, took a deep breath, and walked over to them anyway.
Steve looked at you again, and grinned wide, his eyes lighting up with an infuriating delight as he realized you were coming over. The girl by his side gave you a dirty look as soon as she noticed, but Steveâs attention was now entirely on you.
He said your name, a simple acknowledgement. âHow are you enjoying the party?â He tilted his head to the side, his expression smug. He knew exactly what game heâd been playing all night, and he also knew heâd just won.
âItâs great,â you said, your deadpan voice doing nothing to hide your irritation.
âGood. I pride myself on my hospitality.â You didnât think youâd ever seen Steve not looking proud of himself, but he certainly did right now. âDid you need something?â
You glared at him, biting the inside of your cheek as you refused to back down from the eye contact he was holding. The girl next to him looked between you. âI wasâŠwondering if you had any more of thatâŠweed.â
The grin that spread across his face was nothing short of euphoric. His hazel eyes seemed to shine with it. The girl next to him might as well have no longer existed. âActually, you know, I might have a little more. Iâd have to check.â
Your jaw clenched, looking off to the side before meeting his eyes again. Your whole body buzzed like a live wire. When he didnât make a move, just kept looking at you, you raised your eyebrows at him expectantly. âWell?â
Steve laughed. âNow, huh?â He downed the rest of his beer and turned to the side, dropping the cup in the trash. You were momentarily stunned when he grabbed yours from your hand, too, doing the same. âWell, if itâs that urgent. Come on, weâll go look.â
He pushed off the wall, walking in the direction of the staircase. He didnât give the girl heâd been talking to another word or look, but she was certainly glowering at you when you glanced one last time before following after him. You felt ashamed, trailing behind exactly like he wanted you to. But worse than that was the relief.
Still, as you walked up the stairs behind Steve, you looked around to make sure no one was watching. Youâd survived the first hookup without rumors starting, but you knew you had to be careful. If there was one student on this campus everyone paid attention to, it was Steve Harrington.
Even worse than some random students seeing and whispering would be Nancy or Carol. You didnât want to have to even begin to figure out how to explain this to them. It was humiliating enough doing it, confusing even trying to justify it to yourself.
Steve led the way into his bedroom, although youâd dreamed about the same path so many times over the past week, you could have walked yourself there with your eyes closed. His room was still tidy, and the scent of the cologne he was wearing now permeated the air. All his usual hair products sat out on his dresser, and you could practically see the ghost of him there getting ready before leaving for the party downstairs, not putting it away.
He closed the door behind you, the sound of the lock clicking into place like a bomb in the silence. You turned around to face him. You hadnât really thought this far ahead.
âSoâŠâ Steve began, walking over to you slowly. You felt like a rabbit that had run right into his trapâwillingly. âDid you really want that weed? Or did you come back for something else?â
You gritted your teeth, fists clenching and unclenching at your side. Drawing in a deep breath, you tried to relax your muscles, your entire body tense. âIâŠâ
Steve was still smiling at you as he approached. He knew you werenât going to say it, but he had already won. Youâd come. His hand came up to rest on your cheek, and you found yourself relishing in the warmth of his palm rather than flinching away.
âYou donât have to say it if you donât want to,â he murmured, his voice low. No bravado, soft, meant only for you. His eyes were locked on yours. âI know what you need, baby.â His thumb stroked your cheek, then moved to rub slowly over your bottom lip. Your breath hitched, but you couldnât break the intense eye contact if you tried. âHave you been dreaming about it?â
You didnât know what to say. Your brain was short circuiting. Your hands hung loosely by your side, eyes wide, as he looked at you with pure heat. Goosebumps covered your skin, breath coming in strained.
âI already know,â he continued when you said nothing. His words were a low purr, a sound that had you hypnotized. You didnât even react when he pulled down slightly on your bottom lip and slipped his thumb inside, pressing down against your tongue. âYouâd never been fucked like that in your life. Youâve been thinking about it. Trying to recreate it with your own hand, getting off to the memory.â
Body on autopilot, you closed your lips around his thumb. Your eyes never left each othersâ as you ran your tongue over the calloused pad of his finger, sucking on it. For all he tried to act unaffected and in control, you saw the shudder that wracked through him. You didnât have to look to know he was hard already.
When he pulled his hand away, the trance was broken. But still, you both stood there, just looking at each other. The whole room felt charged with electricity, the air around you heavy enough to feel like a physical, oppressive weight.
Your lips crashed together in a kiss both hungry and frantic. It wasnât slow and romantic, not this time. Steveâs hands dug into your waist, pulling you close, the kiss all tongue and teeth and messy desperation. He groaned into your mouth, and when he pulled your hips into his, you could feel the hard proof of what youâd already known.
He pulled back to pull his shirt over his head, your eyes drinking in the exposed skin shamelessly. He was breathing hard, eyes glazed over with unfiltered want. Shoes were kicked off, Steveâs jeans hit the floor, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you with ease and laying you on his bed.
âYou wore this little thing for me?â Steve whispered in your ear as he settled over you. His lips attacked your neck, sucking at that spot he remembered was so sensitive. You wouldnât be surprised if he left marks, but you couldnât think straight long enough to care.
âNo.â The denial was weak, even you knew that. You had watched him all night, approached him yourself after sucking up your pride, and now you were beneath him on his bed. But, fuck, hadnât you given him enough satisfaction tonight?
âNo?â He chuckled darkly against the hot skin of your neck. He didnât believe you for a second. He was rolling his hips against you, the straining in his boxer briefs rock hard where it pressed against your dripping core. âThatâs a shame, baby. It looks so good on you.â
The little whimper that escaped when he bit down on the skin beneath your ear would have been embarrassing if you were able to even process it. You arched your back beneath him, pressing your tits against his chest. Your nipples were hard through the thin material of your dressâa bra didnât work with it, so youâd gone withoutâand the feeling of friction against them had a breathy noise falling from your lips.
Steve moved down your body, pushing your dress up roughly until it was up around your waist. He lowered himself between your thighs, pressing his nose against your already soaked panties, letting out a low, primal groan. âGod, youâre so fucking sweet,â he growled. Unable to wait any longer, he hooked his fingers into the waist of your panties and pulled them off.
âSteveââ you said in a voice that sounded more like a squeak than anything, spreading your legs for him, breathing hard. His big hands slid up your smooth thighs, opening them wider for him. His nose brushed lightly against your folds, making you draw in a sharp breath.
âYeah, baby?â he murmured. He was looking at your cunt like he wanted this as badly as you didâmaybe more. âWhat do you want?â
âJust do it,â you whined, your body writhing against his sheets with the overwhelming need. âPlease, justâŠâ
âWhat do you want me to do?â He was looking up at you now, smirking, even as his mouth was hovering an inch from where you needed him more than anything. âYouâve gotta tell me, sweetheart. I canât read your mind.â
You groaned, eyes opening as you looked down at him. âYou are such a fucking asshole.â
His big eyes widened with feigned innocence. âWhat?â You could feel his breath ghosting over your pussy, so wet for him, and it had you trembling. You couldnât take much more of this and he knew it.
âStop trying to make me say it,â you grumbled. You pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes.
âNot trying to make you do anything,â he hummed. He moved his head, nose brushing against your clit and making your breath catch. âI just donât know how Iâm supposed to know what you want me to do if you donât tell me, and, yâknow, Iâd never want to do anything you didnât wantââ
âOh my god, Steve,â you huffed, hands running through your hair where you laid against his mattress. âAre you gonna keep running your mouth all night or put it to good use again?â
Steve laughed genuinely, eyes sparkling with amusement. âYouâre so feisty. I always liked that about you.â
Before you could complain anymore, he buried his face against your pussy, diving in like it had been killing him to hold himself back, too. You cried out, loud, a hand moving to slap over your mouth a second too late. You could feel his lips curling in a smile against you.
He was good, so good, you didnât have to have any prior experience to know that. It was no wonder he had girls lining up to get in his bed. You couldnât keep yourself quiet, his tongue fucking inside of you, drinking in all the sweetness you dripped for him, rolling his tongue over your clit. It felt like he was everywhere at once.
âSteve, fuck!â you cried, gasping and clutching onto the pillows behind your head. âOh my god, fuck, how are youâoh fuckââ
He groaned against your cunt, the vibrations going straight through your clit and to every nerve ending in your body. He flicked his tongue over the swollen bud, wrapping his lips around it and sucking as he sunk two fingers into your fluttering hole.
âGod!â you choked. Your thighs were trembling around his head already. Your hand moved down to card through his hair before gripping onto the soft strands for dear life, pulling another moan from him when your fingers tightened in them.
Steveâs fingers fucked into you, nice and slow at first, slipping in a third finger before curling deep to hit that perfect spot. He was getting you ready for his cock again, your heart beating out of your chest at the thought alone. You could see it when you closed your eyes, just as you had for the past week, and it had you growing even wetter for him.
âSteveâŠâ you whined, your hips starting to grind against his face. He let you, moaning and working you even harder, begging for it without any words. âIâm gonnaâŠâ
âGive it to me,â he rasped, pulling away just long enough to say the words before his mouth was right back against you, delving his tongue between your folds and focusing on your clit while his fingers worked you open.
Stars exploded behind your vision. Unable to hold it back, you cried out, mindlessly babbling combinations of his name and curses and desperate pleas of donât stop donât stop oh please fuck god donât stopâ
Steve worked you through every last aftershock, playing your body like an instrument he knew wholly, intimately. Your body was still shaking when he pulled away. The sight of him looking down at you like that, with his lips and chin glistening with your release, made you whimper. God, why did he have to look like that?
âSo fucking good,â he said, eyes dark and awed. His cock strained hard against his boxers. You could see it twitching through the material, throbbing visibly.
His hands slid up your body, looking at you with a deep reverence as he slid the dress up until it was over your head, tossing it to his floor. His eyes raked over your naked body, every inch of it, the smooth skin and the way your chest rose and fell, how wide your eyes were looking up at him, your pretty lips parted.
âI thought about you, too,â he whispered, lips ghosting over your cheek, back to your ear. âThought about how you tasted. How tight you felt around me. The way you said my name. The noises you madeâŠgod, I came so fucking hard playing those noises over and over in my head.â
You gasped, the throbbing between your legs starting up again at his words. Youâd had no idea. Why would he be thinking of you when he could have any girl at this whole school? He wasnât just saying it. The unfiltered heat in his voice made that clear.
Steve lifted off of you slowly, eyes staying on you until he turned away to open his bedside drawer and grab one of those foil packets he seemed to have an endless supply of. He pushed his boxers down, flushed cock springing free, and kicked the last bit of clothing off the bed with the rest.
You watched him rip the foil open and roll it onto his (impressive, huge, perfect, achingly hard) cock, your pussy clenching around nothing, your body itself begging for him. He settled between your legs, wrapping his big hands around your thighs, opening you wide.
âDreamed about this pussy,â he mumbled, wrapping a hand around his shaft and dragging his tip through your soaked folds. He pressed the thick head against your hole, pressing forward just slightly, just feeling you. You whined, rocking your hips down, begging for him inside. He smirked as he noticed, but didnât push in yet. His expression was almost dreamy, pupils blown. âBest pussy I ever had. Fuck. Never came so fucking hard as I did inside you.â
âSteveâŠâ you breathed, the word itself a plea.
âTell me,â he breathed. It wasnât a tease anymore. The need in his voice was staggering. He was begging. âPlease, baby. Need to hear you say it.â
The sight of Steve, utterly wrecked like this, was almost too much to bear. You didnât have it in you to refuse, not anymore. âPlease,â you keened. âGod, Steve, please fuck me.â
His eyes fluttered closed and he let out a ragged groan, even before he finally rolled his hips forward, piercing you with that perfect, thick cock. You nearly sobbed in pleasure as you felt it, that overwhelming fullness as he sank into you inch by inch. It was easier this time but still a stretch, still that distant sting until his hips pressed flush against you.
âChristââ Steve choked, falling forward on his hands, planting them on either side of your shoulders. âOh, fuck.â
You rocked your hips up against him, telling him it was okay to move. Begging him to move. âOh my god,â you moaned. Your walls throbbed around him, which was undoing him way faster than heâd care to admit.
He pulled his hips back before sinking back in. Starting slow, as if he were still trying to be careful with his last shred of restraint. It didnât last long. The perfect clench of your heat around him was driving him mad, his thrusts quickly working up into a punishing rhythm.
Your name left his lips in a shuddering breath, his forehead dropping to rest against your shoulder. The sound of his skin meeting yours filled the room, your cunt so slick and wet around him you could hear it every time he drove in. He fucked you harder than he had last time, something you didnât even know youâd craved until you had it.
âSo fuckingâgodâyou feel so fucking good,â he grunted, his body slick with sweat where it was pressed against yours. You hooked a leg around his waist as he reached down with one hand to grab your thigh and press it up against your chest.
The angle was devastating, his cock hitting deeper inside of you than you thought possible. Your eyes rolled back as he punched soft, mindless little âah ah ahâs from your lungs with every thrust.
âYouâre so fucking tight,â he gritted out through clenched teeth. His eyes squeezed shut, sweat beading on his forehead with the effort of how hard he fucked you. The headboard knocked against the wall, chipping the paint from the force of it, the sound unmistakable for anyone who happened to walk by. âGonna make me cum so fucking hard again. Fuck. Oh, fuck, baby, youâre so perfect, so goddamnâoh shitââ
You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling on it the way you now knew he liked. The desperate groan he let out was muffled as you pulled him down to your lips, his tongue immediately licking into your mouth. The kiss was utterly filthy, saliva dripping down the side of your mouthâyours, his, both.
The whines he was letting out were growing higher, needier. All signs of that cocky, insufferable personality were gone, nothing but pleasure and desire coursing through him. His fingers dug bruises into your thigh as he snapped his hips forward harder, and oh fuck, he was hitting that spot againâ
âSteve!â you gasped, head tossing back against the pillows. Steveâs lips moved down the exposed column of your throat, placing hot, wet kisses everywhere he could reach. âOh, fuck, Steve, Iâm gonna fucking cumââ
âPlease,â he begged, his voice a ragged growl against your throat. âLet me feel you. Squeeze my cock, milk me fuckinâ dry, please.â
That coil snapped again, hard, the moan it forced from you more like a scream. It was loud, you knew it was loud, but you couldnât help it, completely delirious with the intensity of the pleasure. Your back arched beneath him, moaning and crying out and calling his name again and again.
Steve let out a choked noise at the feeling of you tightening around him, clenching and throbbing hard. His hips rutted into you with a desperate, frantic intensity, rhythm completely gone as he chased his own orgasm. He was right behind you, only a couple more shallow thrusts until he was stilling as deep inside you as possible. He groaned roughly, his head dropping to bury his face right between your tits as his body shuddered with release. You could feel him pulsing inside you even through the condom.
The room calmed, your heavy breathing the only sounds remaining. His weight was heavy over you, but you didnât mind. You didnât exactly want him to move, at least not yet. In the quiet aftermath, you relished in the feeling of him, his cock still throbbing inside as he slowly softened.
When he finally mustered up the energy to move he lifted off of you, pulling out and removing the condom, tossing it in the trash. You couldnât bring yourself to look and see if there was proof of him having any other girls in here since youâd been with him. You didnât know why you cared.
Steve sat on the edge of the bed, his arms resting on his knees. He was still catching his breath as you sat up, reality beginning to creep back in like unforgiving daylight after the safety of the night.
He turned his head to look at you, lips curling into a smile again. His skin still glistened with sweat. âWas it as good as the first time?â He asked, once again breaking the spell with his big mouth. âWhat you were hoping for when you showed up here tonight, dressed like that?â
You scoffed, sliding off the bed to collect your clothes again. Now that youâd gotten what youâd been craving, the desperation that had been clouding your brain was gone. That familiar shame was crawling over you again.
âWhat?â he laughed. âYou can say it, yâknow. Doesnât mean you have to like me just because you like fucking me.â
You hesitated for a moment, then moved again, pulling your panties back over your legs. âDonât.â
âCome on, baby,â he goaded, leaning back on the bed. He watched you, propped up on one arm, once again unbothered by being completely exposed to you. âWould it really be so bad to admit it?â
You didnât look at him, but you could feel his eyes staring at your ass as you pulled your panties back on. âFine,â you finally huffed, turning around. You clutched your dress in your hands, nearly throwing it at him when he didnât even try to hide the way his gaze dropped down to your tits. âYouâre good. It was amazing. Is that what you want to hear?â
He grinned. âI just wanted to hear the truth.â He shrugged playfully. âI mean, I already knew, just wanted to hear you admit it. Not for me, but for yourself.â
âArenât you altruistic,â you muttered, pulling the dress back over your head. The way his brow furrowed for a moment showed he didnât know what the word meant, but he didnât press.
Finally he sat up, beginning to replace his own clothes. âItâs okay that you canât stay away. I get it. Itâs good sex.â
âI can stay awayââ
âSure,â he interrupted, lifting his hips to get his boxers back on. âBut you donât want to, right?â
You paused. You hadnât let yourself think about that. If it was okay to let yourself want this. Just because you hated Steve so bad, because you didnât want anyone to know this was happening. But did that make it bad? Did it make you wrong? Weak, like youâd felt all week, and especially tonight?
Maybe he was right. It was good sex.
After buttoning his jeans, Steve stood to face you. He ran a hand through his hair, looking in the mirror behind you for just a second before focusing back on you. âLook,â he started, but it was hard to pay attention when he was standing there shirtless like that. âI think we could help each other.â
You forced your eyes back up to his face, the smirk sitting there evidence that heâd seen you staring. âHelp each other?â
He walked over to you, hands resting on your hips again. You didnât push him away, holding his gaze. âYeah. Help each other. I told you I liked it too, didnât I?â
You werenât sure what to say. Youâd heard him say it, when he was buried inside you, moaning your name, but you figured it was justâŠtalk. Heat of the moment. Nothing real. Nothing you said or felt when you were fucking was real.
Your lack of a response didnât deter him. His fingers flexed on your hips, but he didnât pull you closer. âWe could make this a casual thing,â he offered, finally putting the words out there. âYou like it, I like it. Why not keep having fun together?â
You turned his words over and over in your head. It felt like far more than the seconds it actually took as you thought over his proposition. What it meant, what it changed, how it felt.
But the memory of the past week played through your mind on repeat. How miserable youâd been, the way you couldnât get him out of your head. That he was right, the sex had been so good youâd craved it day and night, and the second time had been just as good, if not better.
Steve waited patiently, but he knew your answer before you finally forced it out. ââŠOkay. Yeah. I guess.â
He grinned, squeezing your hips one more time before moving back. âOkay then. Good.â
âBut we keep this between us,â you added quickly. âIâm serious. Just us. You donât tell your friends and I wonât tell mine.â
He looked amused, but he didnât argue. âWhat kind of guy do you think I am?â
You stared at him. âSteve.â
âOkay,â he laughed, pulling his shirt back on. âI wonât tell a soul. You have my word.â
You let out a sigh, both relief and anxiety at once. Turning to his mirror, you fixed your hair, cleaning up your smudged makeup. âIt means nothing, and no one knows.â
The heat of his body suddenly behind you made you jump. But he just stood next to you, fixing his own appearance.
âIt means nothing,â he repeated. âAnd no one knows.â
part two soooooon
as always, comments and reblogs are so appreciated!
Standing there in the light of the window
Wearing that same smile
Man, it's been a while
But I knew it, I knew you
When your former childhood best friend climbs through your bedroom window with a bruised and battered face, you take care of him but you aren't quite sure if you can forgive him.
pairing: steve harrington x reader
words: 6.4k
contains: eventual fluff, angst, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, description of physical injuries from canon level violence, steve being a dick, elements of king!steve, mild bullying, mention of sex, unrequited (but not really unrequited) love, female reader, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns for reader.
author's note: this was meant to be a blurb but i got into the story too much to keep it that way!
to be added to my taglist | masterlist | requests page
You met Steve Harrington at five years oldâthe day that your family had moved to Hawkins. Elizabeth Harrington had knocked on your door with a plate full of freshly made brownies and a young boy with his arms wrapped tightly around his motherâs leg.
It took barely any time at all for you to be introduced to each other. Before you knew itâyour mom and his mom were letting you guys run riot while sipping on homemade lemonade in your backyard. His dad and your dad later became business partners. And you and Steve Harrington? Your lives intertwined and you became inseparable. He chased after the boys who pulled your pigtails in the park and you held his hand after the first time his dad had ever properly yelled at him. He was your best friend and you were his.
And somewhere along the way, you had fallen in love with him. You hadnât planned on it, in fact, you had actively tried to stop yourself from developing any sort of feelings for your best friend. But it just sort ofâhappened. You constantly thought of excuses to go over to his house just to see him, you spent way too much time on baking his birthday cake and you had cried yourself to sleep after he had told you his first kiss had been Lucy Hayes behind the bike sheds.
You told yourself youâd get over it. That being best friends was enough.
But then high school happened. High schoolâwhere Steve had slipped into the popular crowd with ease while you remained in the shadows. Where Steve went to parties while you stayed home to do extra credit.
You slowly felt him slipping away from you. He stopped sneaking in through your bedroom window to watch R rated horror movies that he had stolen from his parents VHS collection, he stopped knocking on your door in the morning to take you to school and he didnât come to the annual trip to the lake house the summer after freshman year, opting to stay home and throw a massive party instead.
You told yourself it was fineâthat you were just growing apart but youâd eventually find your way back to each other.
But then in your sophomore year, he invited you to one of his parties and your friendship came crashing down over a game of truth or dare.
You had never seen the Harrington house look so messy.
The front yard was littered with beer bottles and red solo cups, there were several smashed glasses in the kitchen and you swore you even saw a couple rolls of toilet paper hanging from the chandelier in the foyer.Â
All you could think as you sat on the couch in the basement, squeezed between Steve and a very intoxicated Carol was that you hoped for Steveâs sake that Elizabeth and Danny Harrington never saw their house in this state. You were pretty sure Steve would be grounded for life if they did.
You felt Steve shift beside you as he leaned back to take a long swig from his beer, eyes flickering over to you briefly before he looked away.
You werenât entirely sure why Steve had invited you to his party, he had hardly said a word to you all evening and you felt like some pathetic lost puppy waiting for him to come back to you. You had a feeling that he had only invited you to alleviate some of the guilt he may have felt for ditching you last week to hang out with Tommy but you were beginning to wish that he hadnât asked you at all. Parities were not at all your thing but you had wanted to try because it was Steve and your feelings for him made you do things you didnât want to do sometimes. Especially when he looked so stupidly handsome in that green shirt of his.
âAre you sure you donât want a drink?â Steve asks you with a gentle nudge of your arm. The subtle contact sends a jolt through you and you have to force yourself to act natural as you turn to look at him.
âNo, thank you, Iâmââ
ââof course she doesnât want a drink,â Carol slurs from beside you, leaning over you to talk to Steve. You shrink backwards against the couch, mostly to put a little distance between you and Carol and the smell of vodka coming from her that was almost overwhelming. âShe hasnâtââ she hiccuped. âShe hasnât drank allââ she hiccuped again. âAll night. Sheâs such a square.â
You donât say anything but you feel your face grow hot in embarrassment as Carol talks about you like you werenât sitting right next to her. The worst part was that Steve didnât even stick up for you. You hate the fact you werenât surprised by that.Â
Your leg begins to bounce, you were trying to quickly think of an excuse to leave. Not that you really needed one, Steve didnât seem particularly bothered by your presence.
âSteve, I need toââ
The sound of jeering cuts you off and the words quickly die on tongue as Tommy and a few more of Steveâs friends stumble down the basement stairs.
All you wanted to do was leave but Tommy was already squeezing himself between you and Carol and you had no choice but to move closer to Steve, your thigh pressed against his and his arm flush against yours.
The uncomfortableness you felt was churning horribly in your gut, your leg was still bouncing nervously and yet, Steve didnât say anything. He didnât even ask if you were okay, despite his legs lingering on your knee as it bounced anxiously.
âWhoâs up for a game of truth or dare?â Tommy asks, one arm slung around Carol while the other nudges you with a gleeful smile. âMaybe itâll get Little Miss Goody Two Shoes over here to loosen up a little.â
âTommy, letâs notââ Steve begins but the laughter around the room cuts him off. He glances at you, as though he was trying to reassure himself that you were fineâthat this was fine.
You watched as Steveâs friends dared each other to take a shot of hot sauce, to strip off their clothes and jump naked into Steveâs pool. Your stomach turned as you heard them ask each other the most intrusive questions about each other's sex life and at parts, even Steve laughed.
And then, it was your turn.
You shifted uncomfortably, Tommyâs elbow digging into your ribs as you looked to Steve for help. But he was too busy smiling over at one of the cheerleaders to even register your discomfort.
âTruth,â you say finally, figuring that it was the safest option. At least then they couldnât dare you to skinny dip in the pool.
âAre you a virgin?â Carol asks you bluntly.
Your face warms, the answer is written on your face and all you wanted was for Steve to notice your discomfort, for him to helpâ
âI take that as a yes,â Carol mutters audibly as some of Steveâs friends laugh, making your face feel as though it was burning from shame. âNot surprised by thatââ
ââCarol,â Steve says in a half arsed attempt to rein his friend in as you shift in your seat once again, your eyes flickering down to your lap as you avoid eye contact with everyone in the room.
âWhat?â Carol asks Steve as Tommy struggles to keep in his laughter beside you. âI wasnât trying toââ
ââcould you justââ
ââoh câmon, Steve. We just wanna get to know her. Sâonly fair. You lost your v card last month so we were just curious about hers.â
Your entire body turns cold. Everything around you blurs, you feel a strange mix of feeling both too hot and too cold as you turn to look at Steveâwho you find was already looking at you. Of course you were jealous, of course you were upset about Steve losing his virginity to someone who wasnât you and of course it felt as though someone had twisted a knife in your gut at the mere thought of it. But it wasnât just thatâit was also the fact he hadnât told you about it. It made that distance you had felt between you and Steve feel too loud to ignore.Â
âOh, are you jealous?â Tommy asks, nudging you as he takes note of the look on your face with glee. âYou see that, Stevie? Sheâs jealous she didnât get there firstââ
ââdude,â Steve interrupts, the tips of his ears turning red as he looks away from you. âDonât be a dick.â
Despite the fact that Steve had finally stood up for you, you couldnât help but feel it was half hearted. Almost as though Steveâs heart wasnât really in it, as though he was more concerned about what his friends would think of him than whether or not they were making you uncomfortable.
Tommy shrugs, the slight smirk tugging on his lips that told you he was absolutely not done being a dick.
âFine. Whatever,â Tommy mutters with a quick glance your way that Steve doesnât catch. âYour turn then, Steve.â
There was a brief pause where Steve didnât say anything. You could feel his eyes on you and for a moment, you wondered if he was about to ask you if you wanted to leave, if he was finally going to put you before his stupid friends. But then Steve shifted beside and you knew that he had looked away.
âDare,â he says.
You knew almost instantly that Tommy or Carol was going to give him a dare that would somehow upset you. Perhaps heâd dare Steve to make a move on that cheerleader right in front of you, maybe theyâd even go upstairs andâ
âI dare you to kiss the person sitting to your right,â Tommy says, a cruel smile tugging at his lips as he watches Steveâs expression shift. Because the person sitting to Steveâs rightâwas you.
The first thing that you registered in response to Tommyâs dare was the laughter from his and Steveâs friends, it was Carolâs small glance towards you and the way Steve had gone completely still beside you.
âNo,â Steve says simply without even so much as a glance towards you. âNot her. No way.â
The way he said, the finality in his voice made something stir in your gut. Shame, embarrassment, humiliationâyou werenât sure. Perhaps it was a sick connotation of all three that was stirring in your stomach.
Not her, he had said. Like you were the very last person he would ever want to kiss, as though kissing you was in some way repulsive, even. The laughing didnât help, Steveâs friends muttering to each other about your inexperience made it worse and all the whileâSteve Harrington, your best friend since you were five years old, didn't say a damn thing.
And that was your breaking point.
You stand up from the couch, your legs feeling wobbly despite the fact you had only drank lemonade all evening. Your entire body felt hot from embarrassment but now also from the anger that was beginning to rear its ugly head. The anger you had felt towards Steve that you had quietly buried after months of him letting you down, months of cancelled plans, months of him putting his desire to be liked over his friendship with you. You suddenly felt so angry that your hands shook slightly and you knew you had to leave because you were seconds away from bursting into tears.
âOh, look how upset she is Steve,â Carol cooes cruelly, gleefully watching you as Tommy tries (and fails) not to laugh. âShe looks like sheâs going toââ
ââfuck you, Carol,â you spat, white hot anger burning through you now as you turn to look at Steve a final time. You see the panic settle in his eyes as he half rises to his feetâbefore you walk away from himâwalk away from him and his stupid friends, his stupid hair and his stupid handsome face.
You push through the sea of bodies that had congregated in Steveâs living room, not caring that someone had smashed one of Elizabethâs priceless vases or the fact that there was a large stain in one of the rugs. All you cared about was getting out of Steveâs house and as far away from him as possible.Â
You were almost successful. You were halfway down his driveway when the sound of Steve calling out your name as he stumbled after you reached your ears.
âWaitââ he calls out, almost frantic as he manages to catch up with you, his fingers slipping around your wrist in an effort to stop you from leaving. âLet me justââ
ââjust what, Steve?â You snap, unable to keep the anger and hurt out of your voice as you turn to face him fully. You almost wish you hadnât because the look on his face was so desperate that the thought of pulling away from him almost hurt.
âI justâI didnât mean it like that,â Steve says quickly, his chest heaving as he looks back at you. In all the years he had known you, of all the years of friendship he had only seen you angry once before. That time you had spent all day making cupcakes for a bake sale just for Steve to accidentally drop an entire batch of the perfectly iced cakes. You had been so annoyed at him you didnât talk to him for almost two days.
But that was nothingânothingâcompared to the look on your face as you stare at Steve and wait for him to explain himself.
âItâs not that I donât want to kiss you, I justââ
ââoh my god, do you seriously think Iâm pissed off about the dare?â You ask, unable to keep the anger out of your voice as you wrench your arm away from him.
Steve looks slightly hurt at the loss of contact and opens his mouth to respond but youâre quick to cut him off. âI donât give a fuck about the dare, Steve. If the thought of kissing me grosses you out then itâitâs whatever.â
âBut Iââ
ââIâm pissed becauseâbecause you let your âfriendsâ treat me like shit and you didnât say a damn thing about it!â
Steve looks stunned and that only makes the anger coursing through you grow hotter.
âI tried but theyââ
ââwell, you didnât fucking try hard enough!â you exclaim angrily, your voice breaking as the first of your tears started to fall. You felt pathetic, humiliated as tears spilled down your cheeks but most of allâyou were heartbroken that your best friend and the guy you were head over heels in love had become a stranger to you.
Something in Steveâs expression shifts at the sight of your tears. His face softens as he says your name and takes a tentative step closer but you step back. The dejected look on his face when he realises you had stepped away from him seemed to break something in you.
âI wasnât thinking,â he tried to explain and you could almost feel his panicâthe way he was looking at you, the way his fingers twitched as though he wanted to reach for you. âI didnât think theyâd go that farââ
ââbut they did and you didnât s-stop them,â you say, your bottom lip quivering slightly as you harshly wipe away your tears with the sleeve of your cardigan.Â
âIâm soââ
You knew he was about to say sorryâyou knew it by the look on his face and you knew that if he did, that you would want to forgive him. The way you had forgiven him for every other transgression over the past few months because he was your best friend and you loved him.Â
And so, you had to stop him before you forgave him once more.
ââyouâre a coward, Steve,â you say in a voice laced with anger, hurt and every emotion you had been bottling for the past few months while Steve Harrington quietly forgot about you. âYouâre a coward and I donât want to be your friend anymore.â
The silence that greeted your words was one of the loudest you had ever heard.
You werenât even sure if you meant it but you couldnât take it back now.
Steve looked as though his entire world had come crumbling down around him, as though your words had been a dagger that you had driven directly through his chest. You knew it would hurt him, you knew it would upset him and perhaps that was exactly why you had said it.
âOh,â Steve says thickly, swallowing a lump that had risen in his throat as he looked back at you, his big, puppy dog-like eyes almost pleading with you to take back the words that had just left your lips. âIâI see.â
I see. That was all he had to say. After well over a decade of friendship, after years and years of always having your back, years of âIâll always be hereâ and seeing each other's worst and best daysâit would all end over two little words.
You waited. You waited for Steve to argue with you, for him to beg for your forgiveness like he had the last time you were mad at him. But he didnât say a damn thing.Â
âSee you around, Harrington,â you mutter, his surname feeling foreign on your tongue as turn around and walk away from him before you could burst into tears.
And the days that followed, Steve didnât even try to talk to you.
And so, from a distance you watched as Steve Harrington morphed into King Steve. You watched him be a completely different person, watched as he continued to surround himself with people like Tommy and Carol. You heard the parties he threw next door when his parents were out of town that carried on until the early hours or had to be shut down by cops, you heard the way girls he slept with spoke about him and eventually you heard all about him and Nancy Wheeler.
You couldnât deny that hearing about Steveâs life through rumours hurt. Nor could you deny that the ending of your friendship had devastated you in a way that you hadnât been expecting and that watching Steve carry on as normal, seemingly completely unaffected by the end of a decade-long friendship, hurt just as much.
You had almost knocked on his door on his birthday but had stopped yourself. You told yourself not to dwell on the past, told yourself that things changed despite the fact your feelings for Steve never seemed to waver and the fact that you still loved him despite everything.
But that all changed one night in your senior year.
You were drifting in and out of sleep, the rain hammering down outside, smacking loud against your window kept rousing you. But it wasnât until a particularly loud smack against the glass that you finally jolted awake.
You blink, rubbing your eyes sleepily as you glance towards the window to see if it was hailing.
But you nearly scream at the sight of a shadowy figure standing on the garage roof just outside your window.
You open your mouth to yell for your mom but when you realise it was Steve Harringtonâdrenched to the bone, rapping his knuckles harshly against the glassâall thoughts of yelling out leave you.
Instead, you donât move. You barely even breathe. You were in some sort of state of shock at the sight of him at your bedroom window after all these years.
You manage to stand on legs that feel wobbly and unsure of themselves, walking cautiously over your carpet and towards the window.
And when you finally see his face clearly through the window paneâat the dark bruise covering his eye, the blood spatter over his face and look of quiet desperation in his eyes, you unlock your bedroom window without much thought.
Steve stumbles into your room, water dripping down from his hair and his clothes onto your carpet. But youâre too busy gasping at the state of his face to worry about that right now.
âH-hi,â he stammers out, his teeth chattering and his cheeks slightly pink from the cold.
Hi? Was that all he had to say after years of silence? After forgetting about you like it was easy? After he didnât fight for you?
You had the urge to yell, to scream at him but the sight of his beaten face stops you.
âSteve, your faceââ
ââthat bad, huh?â Steve asks, trying to smile but instead wincing in pain.
âSit down,â you tell him, watching as Steveâs eyes flicker around your room, taking in everything that had changed over the past almost two yearsâthe colour of your walls, the posters you had hung up, the polaroids of you and Steve you had taken down. âI um, Iâll get something for your face.â
Steve nods, wincing again as he sits down carefully on the edge of your bed, trying not to completely soak your sheets with rain water as he does so.
You take a deep breath before you turn and leave your bedroom to grab the first aid kit from your family bathroom. Youâre careful to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake your parents who would certainly have a few questions about why your former best friend is sitting on your bed with a bruised and battered face.
You walk quietly back into your bedroom with the first aid kit in your hand to find Steve hadnât moved from the edge of your bed. But he was holding your stuffed teddy bear in his handsâthe one he had won for you at Hawkins Fair when you were twelve years old, the one he had called âLittle Stevieâ before handing it to you with a bright smile on his face.Â
You close the door softly behind you and Steve glances up, carefully placing Little Stevie back down onto your bed.
âYou still have him,â Steve murmurs quietly as you sink down onto the bed beside him.
Your face warms and you hope it isnât noticeable as you open up the first aid kit.
Truthfully, you hadnât thrown out anything that was connected to Steve Harrington. The polaroids were tucked away safely in your jewellery box and even that shell necklace he had made you when he was seven was in a memory box in your closet. You just couldnât bring yourself to throw anything away after the end of your friendship but you also couldnât look at them anymore without something inside of you breaking every time you looked around your room. Little Stevie was the only thing you hadnât put awayâbecause truthfully, you couldnât sleep without it.
But you donât tell Steve that.Â
Instead, you let the silence surround the two of you as you pull out several small gauze pads and antiseptic. Steve lets you work silently as outside, the rain continues to fall, the wind howls and thereâs a distant rumble of thunder.
You start first by pouring a small amount of antiseptic onto a gauze pad before you gently dab it over the small gash on his cheek. He winces and hisses in pain but he doesnât pull away.
âWhat happened?â You ask him quietly a few minutes later, the cuts and blood wiped from his face as you carefully inspect the bruise around his eye.
The sight makes something tighten in your chest. Though you hadnât talked to Steve in two years, of course you heard the arguments that happened next door. Usually after one of Steveâs parties had left the Harrington home in a state. Steve had never had the best relationship with his father as Danny Harrington expected only the best from his son and Steve had never been able to live up to that, even from a young age. But though they argued, you had never thought it would escalate to something physical.
âItâit wasnât your dad, was it?â
âNo,â Steve says quickly, too quickly which makes you look at him carefully, wondering whether or not he was lying for your sake. âReally. It wasnât my dad. I swear. Itâit was Billy Hargrove."
You blink. You hadnât been expecting that. Sure, ever since Billy Hagrove had strolled into Hawkins High like had already owned the place he and Steve had sort of rivalry going on but you werenât aware it was bad enough for Billy to do something like this.Â
âBut whyââ
ââitâs a long story,â Steve says, jaw tight and looking away from you briefly.Â
âThatâs it?â You ask him, pulling away from him as you look from his face to the bloody gauzes that sat in your lap. âYou come into my room after two years of ignoring meââ
Steveâs expression falters and he says your name but you shake your head, getting to your feet and causing the first aid kit to fall to the floor at your feet.
ââno Steve, itâitâs bullshit! Okay? Do you have any idea what it was like for me to watch you slowly decide to just not give a shit about me anymore?â
Steve swallows at the sound of anger in your voice. He knew it had been coming and he knew he deserved it but he didnât know what to say. Because there was no excuse, he knew that he had hurt you in immeasurable ways and he knew he most likely did not deserve your forgiveness. But he wantedâneededâto try anyway.
âI know Iââ
ââand now you show up years later with a busted face and expect me toââ
ââI thought Billy was going to kill me tonight.â
That shuts you up. Your eyes widen and you look at Steve with a horrified expression and in your stunned silence, Steve decides to keep talking.
âI had a moment where he was landing hit after hit after hit I thoughtâI thought âthis is itâ and all I couldâall I could think about wasâit was you.â
Youâre completely taken aback, you were so stunned that you almost forgot to be angry. Almost.
âAll I could think about was howâhow I never got to make things right with you and how much time I wasted caring about stupid shit like being popular. Caring too much about what other people thought of me when it really didnât matter. When I already had someone who liked me for me. And instead IâI treated you terribly, I strung you along and I should never have done that. Not to you. You didnât deserve it.â
Your eyes stung and you had to look away, not wanting Steve to see how close to tears you were. Because the truth was that you missed him. You missed so much that it was almost a physical ache in your chest. You missed the way Steve could make you laugh even when you really didnât want to, the way he used to sometimes snort a little when he laughed really hard and the way you could be completely yourself around him.
Steve says your name again but you donât look at him, instead you sniffle and look down at the first aid kit you had dropped, at the various medical supplies that were now scattered over your floor.
But before you could even think about picking them up, Steve is already doing it for you. You swallow, taking the opportunity to wipe your eyes as Steve bends down, carefully putting the gauze, the bandages and antiseptic bottle back into the box.
He snaps it shut, placing the kit onto bed beside him before he finally looks back at you.
âIâm really fucking sorry,â he tells you, the sincerity in his face making your throat tighten. âFor everything. For being an idiot, for trying to be someone Iâm not. For letting you down, for making you feel like I didnât give a shit about you. Iâm sorry for not standing up for you that night. Iâm sorry I didnât try and fix things after and IâIâm sorry for not saying all this sooner.â
You nod, your bottom lip trembling slightly as you look back at him, slowly sinking back down onto the bed beside him. âYou really hurt me, Steve.â
Steve swallows at that, his eyes turning glassy as he looks back at you. âI know. I wasâa colossal idiot. Thereâs no excuse for it. I hurt you and I wish I could take it all back but I canât. All Iâve wanted to do these past few years is make things right with you butâbut you were right, I was a coward. I was scaredâterrifedâthat you hated me orââ
ââI could never hate you,â you tell him.
Steveâs eyes soften and he looks back at you with a hopeful expression.
âReally?â
You nod, flexing your fingers against your bedsheet nervously as you look at him. âReally. I was hurt, upset and I was angry but I never hated you. I donât think I could ever hate you. Not even for a second. I justâI was worried about you. I didnât want you to become like Tommy or whoever else you were hanging out with because I know thatâs not really you.â
âI was still an asshole,â Steve says thickly, the shame evident on his face as he looks down at his lap. âI still did things and said things that hurt people and I canât take any of it back.â
âNo,â you agree quietly. âYou canât.â
Itâs quiet then between the two of youâthe only sound is that of the thunder rumbling outside. Thereâs a flash of lightning outside your window but still, neither of you say anything.
âIâm sorry too,â you tell him quietly as you look down at your lap. âFor saying I didnât want to be your friend anymore. Thatâthat wasnât true I justâI knew I would forgive you straight away if I didnât.â
Steve shakes his head, corners of his mouth twitching as he hesitantly lifts a hand to rest on your shoulder. His touch alone sends something hot and electric coursing through your body. âPlease donât be sorry,â he tells you. âI should have grovelled for forgiveness and I didnât. I wasâfuckâI was such an idiot that night. I didnât have your back the way I should have done and Iâll never forgive myself for that. For upsetting you, for making you cry, for letting people talk about you like that.â
âYou have no idea how much I think about that night and hate myself for what I did and what I didnât do. How fucking stupid I feel for letting the best thing that has ever happened to me walk away without a fight.â
You turn to look at him, your expression softening slightly. âSteveââ
ââno, I mean it,â Steve insists, turning to face you fully now as he grabs one of your hands and squeezes it gently. Water drips down from his hair and onto your skin but you couldnât care less as his touch warms something in you. âYou are and Iâm sorry it took me losing you and almost dying to realise that. I was justâI couldnât admit it to myself. I was stupid. So stupid. And I thinkâI think I was scared to be honest with myself.â
Your brows furrow at that while your heart pounds against your chest. âHonest about what?â You ask him quietly.
Steve looks at you for a long moment before he reaches for your other hand. You let him take it as the look in his eyes keeps you rooted to the spot.Â
âThat I was starting to fall in love with you and I got scared.â
All the air leaves your lungs at that admission. Out of all the things you had expected Steve to say when he climbed in through your bedroom window, you had never in your wildest dreams expected him to say that.
âI wasâshitâitâs so fucking stupid now that I think about it but I justâthose feelings scared the shit out of me. I meanâyou were my best friend and yet, I was always fucking thinking about you. And so, I did all stupid shit to try and forget about you and it never worked. I partied, I listened to Tommy when I fucking shouldnât have, I messed around because I thought Iâd get over you.â
âI even lost my fucking virginity while wishing it was you beneath me the entire time. Nothing workedânothing ever worked and so IâI thought distance would help but it didnât and I let you down. I made promises and didnât keep them. I made you think you were unimportant to me when you were the most important person in my life.â
âSteveââ
ââand that nightâthe night when Tommy gave me that dareâI didnât kiss you because I was grossed out by you. God no, far from itâof course I wanted to kiss you. But I didnât wanna do it if it was just a dare.â
âSteveââ
ââI justâI wanted it to be real and not at a party, not in front of Tommy and Carol or any one of those other assholes andââ
âSteve!â
Steve shuts up almost instantly. His eyes were wide and his hands were still holding yours tightly as though he was trying to ground himself.
You look back at himâat the guy you had loved for longer than you could rememberâand you couldnât bring yourself to be mad at him anymore.
âYou knowâI never threw anything away,â you tell him quietly. âI justâI couldnât bear to look at things that reminded me of you because it hurt too much. Because missing you was likeâit was like a constant physical pain. Something I couldnât get rid.â
âReally?â Steve asks quietly.
âYeah,â you say. âI even kept the shell necklace.â
Steve blinks once, twice before he laughs and the sound brings you the sort of warmth that even fire couldnât ever bring you. You felt it in every pore, every nerve, every cell in your body. It made you feel lighter, made the storm outside feel insignificant.
âWhy would you keep that?â Steve asks, still laughing quietly to himself. âIt was so heavy andââ
ââbecause you made it for me,â you say simply with a small smile. âAnd thatâthat meant it was important to me.â
Steve blinks. He looks back at you with an unreadable expression as his thumb drags itself across the skin of your hand and seems to steal the air from your lungs.
âI made you it because the shells reminded me of you,â Steve murmurs fondly, eyes seeming to shine as he looks back at you. âI thought the shells were pretty andâI thought you were pretty too. Prettier than the shells, obviously.â
Your face feels hot and it was near impossible to fight back the smile on your face now.
âYou told me you were practising for art class,â you say quietly, head tilting to the side as you look back at him.Â
Steve smiles a little before shaking his head. âI lied. I was trying really hard to impress you but seven year old me had no game.â
You laugh then and you see the way Steveâs eyes light up, the way he canât help but smile when he hears your laugh, when he was finally the reason behind it again.
âYou didnât have to do anything to impress me Steve,â you tell him after a moment with a soft smile. âYou already did.â
There was silence again and thenâ
âDo you meanââ
ââyeah,â you breathe out, unable to look away from him as you squeeze his hands a little tighter. âIâIâve been in love with you for a really long fucking time, Steve.â
The moment that follows felt as though it lasted for a lifetime. Steve was looking at you, seeming to forget how to breathe and you begin to wonder if you had been too forward when one of Steveâs hands slips out of yours to gently cup your face.
âThe feelingâs pretty fucking mututal,â he murmurs before his lips seal over yours in a kiss that took your breath away.
Everything seems to slow down around you. You were vaguely aware of the first aid kit clattering to the floor as you kiss him back with no hesitation. your fingers sliding into his still damp hair while his hands gently cradle the back of your head.
Youâre already breathless, unable to think of the world that existed out of Steve Harringtonâs lips against yoursâno thoughts about the rain splattering against the window or of the lightning that flashed across the sky outside. Because everything seems so dull in comparison to Steveâs lips moving against yours, against his hands that you were holding you like you were something sacred.Â
He was the first to pull awayâcatching his breath as his eyes couldnât help but flicker down to your lips that were wet, swollen and so inviting that he already wanted to dive back in again.
But he also knew he had to earn your forgiveness first and that wouldnât involve being twisted in the sheets together.
âLet me take you out tomorrow night,â Steve murmurs, his thumb gently wiping away a smear of his saliva from your lips and trying not to give in. âMake up for lost time, yeah?â
You smile a little as you consider his offer, your eyes flickering over the bruise on his face. âLetâs wait until the bruise fades first, yeah?â
âOh,â Steve says, trying to keep the disappointment out of his face as he looks back at you. âYeah um, totally Iââ
ââbut I wouldnât be opposed to a movie night,â you say with a small smile. âIf you were to come up to my bedroom window again with a few movies I probably wouldnât say no.â
Steve blinks but thenâhe smiles and he looked so devastatingly handsome that it was difficult to not pull him in for another kiss.
âItâs a date,â he tells you, leaning in to press a gentle but firm kiss to your forehead. âLittle Stevie can join us too.â
You laugh and Steve canât help but join youâthanking his lucky stars that you had opened your window for him.
You tell Steve that you don't think you're capable of orgasming with a guy. He's determined to prove you wrong.
pairing: steve harrington x reader
words: 4.2k
contains: (18+ smut!! minors dni) mutual masturbation, porn with very little plot, hint of friends to lovers, pet names, steve is packing, female reader, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns for reader.
author's note: request by @djobriens | this is inspired by that scene from off campus!! recently watched it and i am forever changed. this was yet another request that started as a blurb and ended up being way too long.
Telling one of your closest friends that a guy had never made you come had seemed like an okay idea at first. Unless that guy was Steve Harrington who took the news like it was a personal insult.
"What?" He asked, a look of horror on his face as he stared at you as though he was waiting for some sort of punchline. "Never? You're kidding right? This is some sort of sick jokeâ"
Your face feels hot as you look away from Steve, suddenly regretting telling him about your disappointing date from Saturday night. Suddenly regretting being too honest with him, about the lack of orgasms that you had received from men over the years. You would usually talk about this sort of stuff with Robin but she was on vacation with her family and you needed someone to vent to. And so, you had showed up to Steveâs under the guise of a movie night and general catch up.
But maybe venting to Steve had been a bad idea.
"Forget I said anything," you say quickly, leaning over to grab the large bowl of popcorn that had been sitting on Steve's lap and stuffing a large handful into your mouth just to avoid answering any further questions.
But of courseâSteve wasn't going to let you off that easily.
"I'm serious!" Steve says, snatching the popcorn back and placing it on the coffee table before shifting on the sofa to look at you properly. "This isâthis is abhorrent. Do you exclusively date selfish assholes or something?"
If you hadn't had a mouthful of popcorn, you would have probably argued with him. But instead you settle for sending him a glare as you chew what was left of the salty popcorn in your mouth.
"Do you finish when you touch yourself?"
You nearly choke on a popcorn kernel.
"Jesus Christ, Harrington!" you gasp out, your face now so hot you were surprised that steam wasnât rising from your skin. âYou canât just ask me thatââ
ââwhat?â Steve asks, seemingly confused why you were so taken aback by his question. âIâm trying to helpââ
ââby asking me about masturbation?â
âIâm just trying to understand the situation!â
You huff because you knew deep down Steve had good intentions. You knew he wasnât asking to be a creepâhe was asking because he genuinely cared about you and wanted to help you with the situation. But talking about something so intimate with Steve made you feel a lot of things that you werenât quite sure what to do with.
âYes,â you say finally, determinedly not looking at Steve as you answer. âYes, I um, I finish when Iâyou knowââ
ââtouch yourself?â Steve finishes for you and the words send heat coursing through your entire body. You shift on the couch beside him, eyes on his TV that was currently playing some sitcom you were no longer paying attention to. âCâmon, donât be coy about it! Masturbation is normal! I do it at least three times aââ
ââSteve!â You scold him, your face somehow even hotter as you turn to glare at him. âI donât need to know about how many times a week you jerk offââ
ââactually, I was going to say that I do it three times a day.â
You look at him and suddenly, any intelligent thought you had disappears. Because now all you could think about was Steve and what heâd look like fucking his fist with his cock. You would be lying if you said you hadnât thought about Steve in that way before. He may be a good friend of yours but he was also stupidly attractive and wore jeans that hugged his lower half a little too well. Sometimes, if you had a chance to look at him for long enough, you could see the imprint of his thick cock over the denim. And his assâ
âYou know Iâm kidding right?â Steve asks you, seeming to take your lack of response as disgustâwhen in reality it was anything but. âI donâtâthatâs just excessive. Few times a week is enough for meââ
ââokay, okay! I get it!â You interrupt, wanting him to stop talking because his words were going straight to your core and you didnât want your traitorous eyes to shift down to his lap. âI donât need to know yourâŠschedule.â
Steve smiles a little before nudging you with his elbow. âItâs pretty rigorous, Iâll tell you thatââ
ââStevenââ
ââsorry,â Steve grins at you before he finally looks away from you. You pray that he drops the entire conversation, that he doesnât ask anymore questions so that you could finally take moment to relaxâ
âSo, itâs not youâitâs just the guys that youâre seeing?â
âSteve, canât we justââ
ââno, we canât,â Steve says, sitting up and looking at you with a careful expression. âListenâI know you feel awkward talking about this with me butâI justâI care about you and I care about the way guys treat you. And if theyâre not making you come, not taking the time to work out what you want, then theyâre not treating you right. IâI just want to make sure that you know itâs not you thatâs the problem here. Itâs them.â
You swallow because, god, why did he have to be so caring? Why did he know the exact right thing to say? And why did you have the sudden urge to press your thighs together?
âI dunno,â you say finally, your throat a little dry for reasons that had everything to do with the man sitting right beside you. âWhat ifâwhat if guys just canât make me come? Like Iâm too complicated down there orââ
ââstop right there,â Steve interrupts, not unkindly but in a firm sort of way that shuts you up almost instantly. âWhat did I just say? Itâs not you. You said you can make yourself come so I promise youâyouâre not the problem. They are. Theyâre being selfish. They need toâthey need to take the time to learn what your body needs. Ask you what you like, how you respond to what theyâre doing to you.â
It was good advice, genuinely. But all you could think about as you listened to Steve was what heâd be like in bed. If he would take the time to learn what your body needed, if he would ask you what you liked, if heâd watchâlips parted and eyes wideâas your body writhed beneath him, as your plushy walls squeezed around hisâ
âI donât know Steve,â you say quietly, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as you try not to think too hard about the image you had of Steveâs head between your thighs, of his lips wet with your slick dripping down to his chin. âI donât know if itâs just that. I meanâitâs not like what theyâre doing is really bad because I get close, Iâitâs like right before I get thereâI just seize up or something.â
Steve listens carefully, his attention solely on you as you try your best to explain the issue and when youâre done, he takes a few seconds to mull over what you had just told him.
âThese guys,â Steve begins, hazel eyes flickering between yours as he studies your expression. âDo you trust them?â
âWhat?â You ask, a little confused at the question. âI donât know what youââ
ââdo you trust them?â Steve repeats the question, not elaboration or clarificationâjust a small quirk of his brow as he waits for you to respond. âDo you trust them enough to let yourself go completely?â
The question takes you by surprise and you want to say yesâbut the word dies on your tongue and the lack of a response was enough of an answer for Steve. He looks at you for a moment too long, hazel eyes studying you as though he was trying to look inside your brain.
âDo you trust me?â
You donât even think as you nodâbecause of course you trusted Steve. You trusted him with your life. After everything that had happened in Hawkins, it was hard not to.
âOf course Iââ
ââthen make yourself come in front of me.â
The silence that greeted Steveâs words was deafening. You stare at him, eyes wide as you let his words truly sink in. You let yourself come to terms with the fact that you werenât having some strange sex dream. That your good friend and guy you occasionally had inappropriate thoughts had just asked you to make yourself come in front of him.
âWhy?â You ask him finally because though you were shockedâthere was a large part of you that didnât want to say no to his offer.
âI justâI think it might help,â Steve shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant but you notice the way the tips of his ears redden. âI mean sex is pretty fucking vulnerable so you might just need an experience with someone you trust who cares about you. So you know itâs okay toâto let go in front of someone.â
The way he says itâwith so much care in his voice that it almost makes you forget about the whole making yourself come in front of him thing. He makes it sound so sweet that you find yourself lost for words again.
âYou think itâs weird,â Steve says, shifting away an inch or so away from you on the couchâin your state of shock you had barely noticed that he had begun to inch closer to you. âI know, I know, I shouldnât haveââ
âân-no, no, no,â you stutter out before you could stop yourself with a subtle shake of your head. âI meanâyeah, itâs weird butâas you said I-I trust you.â
Steve blinks and thenâseems to realise that you werenât completely disgusted by his proposal and sits up a little straighter on the couch.Â
âReally? Youâyouâd want to try andââ
ââyes,â you say before he could finish his sentence because you were feeling incredibly turned on by the thought of Steve watching you touch yourself and you didnât want to let rational thought creep in now. âIt could help and if it doesnât thenââ
ââthen we just forget it ever happened,â he finishes with a quick nod. âYeah, totally. Like it never happened.â
You look at each other then, apparently both waiting for the other to back out. But when neither of you do, Steve visibly swallows as he stands up from his couch, holding out his hand out for you to take..
âYou wannaâgo somewhere more comfortable?â
Steveâs bedroom was surprisingly tidy considering the fact he hadnât been expecting company. Still, thereâs some clothes strewn across his bed that Steve makes quick work of tidying up.
âSorry,â he mutters as he dumps the clothes onto his desk before gesturing towards his bed for you to sit down.
You glance down at his bed before you look back at him. Because now you felt nervousânow you were thinking about lying on his sheets and fingering yourself in front of him. And perhaps you were just starting to realise how insane that would be andâ
âHey.â
You feel one of Steveâs large hands on your arm and it pulls you back to reality. You hadnât even realised that you had been staring blankly down at his plaid sheets, already too in your own head about what was about to happen. Steveâs gentle touch, his fingertips brushing over your skin help to ground youâremind you that this wasnât a stranger you had met at a bar or someone you had been set up with by a mutual friend. This was Steve. Your good, totally platonic friend, Steve.
âYouâre okay,â he says gently, thumb rubbing gentle circles in your skin and unknowingly turning your insides into goo. âIâm gonna put on some music, okay? Help you relax a bit. Just take a seat.â
You listen because you did not know what else to do, sitting on the very edge of his bed and watching as he walks over to his vinyl player perched on top of a chest of drawers. You continue to watch him from the back as he sorts through the small stack of vinyls he had, apparently trying to find the perfect record.Â
A few moments later, the sound of Baby Now That Iâve Found You by the Foundations starts to play and you feel your shoulders visibly relax before Steve turns around to look at you.
âReally?â You ask him with a faint smile. âIs this you trying to set the mood?â
âThat obvious, huh?â Steve asks you as he steps towards the bedâtowards you.
You watch him, your lips parting as he stands a foot or so away from you now. The room feels five times smaller as Steveâs eyes are on you.
âWhat if it doesnât work?â You ask Steve suddenly. âWhat if thereâs something wrong if me orââ
Steve cuts you off by saying your name and the way he says it steals the air from your lungs.
âThere is nothing wrong with you,â Steve says firmly, as though he believed every syllable. âAbsoluetly nothing.â
You nod, choosing to believe him as you look at his face, the smooth voices of the Foundations putting you a little more at ease. âOkay soâweâre doing this. Okay. Are you just going to watch me orââ
You stop when you see Steve shaking his head. Your body suddenly feels hot, as though all the blood in your body had been replaced by fire. It was almost as though it seemed to know what Steve was going to say before he said it.
âNo,â Steve says in a low voice that goes straight to your aching centre. âYouâre going to show me. And Iâll show you.â
Everything became very still after that. The both of you just looked at each otherâyour chest heaving and his eyes flickering over your face as though trying to find any hint of uncertainty. You wanted to be the one to make the first move and you almost do, your fingers curling into the sheets beneath you as you build up the courage to do so. But before you could find the hem of your t-shirt, Steve begins to lift up his top.
The first flash of his soft stomach, of his happy trail and you seemed to forget how to breathe. God, he was gorgeous. Moles and freckles were dotted over his skin, there was a generous smattering of hair over his chest that made your thighs press together and you wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through it. In truth, you could have looked at him for hours.Â
But instead, you take a deep breath before you very slowly get to your feet.
Steve is watching you carefully as you begin to lift up your own shirt. His eyes on you should have made you feel self conscious, should have made you think twice of the very unsexy bra you were wearing, should have made you think of all the parts of yourself you didnât like. But there was something about the way he was looking at you as you let your shirt fall to the floor that made you feel the very opposite of self conscious.
And so, before you could second guess yourselfâyou made the next move before him.
Your fingers fiddle momentarily with the button of your jeans before you unzip them, the sound making Steveâs eyes widen slightly. And when you begin to tug your jeans down over your hips and then your thighs, leaving you in just your mismatched underwear, you watch in fascination as a faint blush creeps up Steveâs neck.
You step out of your jeans, not looking away from Steve for even a second so you didnât miss a single facial expression. So that you didnât miss the way the flush had crept up his cheeks and right up to the very tips of his ears, how his breathing had started to become shallow.
âYou lookââ
ââdonât,â you say, surprised to find that your voice was barely a whisper.Â
âWhy not?â He asks gently, head tilting to the side as he begins to unbuckle his belt.
You lick your lips, eyes still on his face but desperately wanting to shift lower to watch as he unzips his jeans.
âBecuase I might think that youâre just saying it to make me feel better,â you say. âConsidering what weâre about to do.â
âI would never lie about how beautiful I think you are,â Steve says simply, his eyes still on you as he finally pulls his jeans down.
You barely have a moment to comprehend Steve calling you beautiful before you catch sight of him in only his boxers. He wasâshit, he was perfect. You let your eyes dip down to feast on his delicious thighs, his boxers that had a large, noticeable tent in them that made your core throb.
Your throat felt dry, you didn't quite know what to do. All you knew is that Steve Harrington was hard just by looking at you. The thought sends a hot surge through your body, as though every damn nerve was suddenly burning beneath your skin. And perhaps it was that thoughtâthe idea that you had made Steve hard without really doing anythingâthat you reached carefully behind you to unclip your bra.
Steve visibly swallows as your breasts spill out, finally seeing your hardened peaks as you let your bra fall to the floor alongside your t-shirt and jeans.
There was a beat and thenâ
He begins to tug down his boxers.
You had imagined what Steve Harrigntonâs cock would look like more times than you cared to admit. But every mental image you had conjured up was nothingânothingâcompared to what was standing to attention right in front of you. His cock was long, thick and heavy, so heavy in fact it had made an audible sound when it had slapped against his soft tummy. His cock was beautifulâhe was beautiful. Slightly curved in a way that you knew was made for hitting that spot inside of you just right. The ruddy tip of his cock was already leaking precum, which you shamelessly watch drool along a vein bulging along his length. Your mouth felt incredibly dry as you ogled the sheer size of him, imagining what it would be like for his thick cock to split you openâ
You come to your senses just enough to discard your panties. They stick to your cunt briefly due to how fucking drenched you already were and Steve noticesâhis bottom lip between his teeth as he marvels at how your lips cling to the fabric before giving way, his cock twitching when he sees the damp patch your wetness had caused.
And there you both were, both finally completely bare in front of one another for the first time. Both looking shamelessly at the otherâs body, both clearly desperate to touch the other but not dare to do so.
And then, without a word to each other, you sink back down onto his bed while Steve reaches blindly behind him to pull out his desk chair.
It was only now beginning to feel real, as you look at Steveâs face at the same time he looks at you.
âStill with me?â He asks you breathlessly.
You take your time to answer, spreading your legs a little wider and watching with immense satisfaction as his eyes flicker down to your soaked pussy. Another surge of something hot like molten lava surges through you as you notice the way his hand twitches towards his cock.
âYeah,â you breathe out. âStill with you.â
You could have looked at each other for hours, days even. But your pussy was clenching around nothing and more precum dribbled out of Steveâs cock and you both knew you couldnât wait any longer.
Steve moved first, one of his large hands wrapping around his thick cock before giving himself one, two gentle strokes. The sound of his own precum wetting his cock was obscene and it was that noise that made you trail your fingers delicately over the skin of your inner thigh before making contact with the soaked, sensitive flesh between your legs.
The relief was instant. You felt your entire body relax, your eyelids flutter for a brief moment before you made sure to look back at Steve. He was already watching you and for a moment you just smile at each otherâalmost shyly despite the situationâbefore you both focus back on pleasuring yourselves.
Your fingers glide easily through your folds, your slick allowing you to plunge two fingers inside of yourself. A breathy moan left your lips before you could stop it. You were almost embarrassed by it but then you notice the way Steveâs jaw clenches at the sound, the way he squeezes his cock a little bit tighter.
His wordsâhis filthy fucking wordsâgo right through you. Your cunt clenches around your fingers and you briefly wonder if you had died and gone to heaven, if Steve Harrington was really dirty talking to you right now.
âCâmon pretty girl,â Steve grits out as he pumps his dick that little bit faster, eyes not leaving yours. âDonât hold back. Please, baby. Donât you dare hold back on me.â
You could barely believe it, the words that were falling from his lips, the pet names he had just called you. But you didnât question itâtoo busy fucking yourself with your slick fingers as you let out another soft, almost pornographic moan.
âThatâs it,â Steve murmurs, the schlick, schlick, schlick of him fucking his fist filling the room as he watching your soaked fingers move in and out of your needy hole like it was the best damn thing he had ever seen. âSoak your fingers fâme. Thatâs so fucking hot.â
You let out a whimper at that, his words having such an impact on you that your hips buck upwards to meet your fingers, your eyes fluttering again as pleasure floods into every pore over your skin.
âSteve,â you mewl out as your fingers pump in and out of your hole, your breasts bouncing with each and every thrust. âFuck, Steve. Feels so fucking good.â
Steve hadnât been expecting you to dirty talk but god, had it been the most welcome surprise.
âYeah? Gonna make yourself come for me, sweet girl?â Steve asks you, now pumping his dick frantically as he watches you roll your hips against his bedâyour slick soaking his sheets. âGonna get my bed all wet? Make me smell you on my sheets for days?â
You whimper and nod desperately as you curl your fingers, hitting that spongey spot inside of you that had you mewling out yet again.Â
âGonna touch your clit for me?â Steve asks you, breathing heavily as he tries to hold back as the sight of you pleasuring yourself on his bed was suddenly becoming too much for him. âCâmon, please. Wanna see you lose it, baby.â
It was like Steve knew exactly what you needed, almost as though he knew your body better than you did without even touching it.
Your other handâthe one that had been curled into the sheets beneath youâjourneys to between your legs. And that first brush of your fingertip over your swollen, arching clit had you seeing stars. Youâre pretty sure you moan out Steveâs name but it also could have been nonsense. All you could focus on was Steveâs own pleasure dancing across his face and the dual sensation of your fingers plunging in and out of your soaked cunt and the other that was circling around your clit.
Pleasure was consuming youâit was white hot and you could feel it pulsing in every nerve in your body. You could feel the blood in your veins burning as the coil in your gut was pulled tighter and tighter while you played with your swollen clit.
âThatâs it,â Steve gasps out, his eyes only on you as you neared the edge. âCâmon, baby. Be a good girl and come for me. You can do it, I know you can.â
You wish that you could have held on, that you could have prolonged your pleasure by a few more seconds. But your orgasm had snuck up on youâcrashing over you like a tidal wave. Your thighs shook, your toes curled and Steveâs name fell from your lips as you came all over your fingers, your juices soaking Steveâs bed.
And it was thatâwatching you finally trusting him enough to let yourself go completely that made Steve follow along right behind you. You watch in awe as his toes curl, as his stomach clenches and how his head tilts back against the back of the chair in ecstasy, his release spilling all over that soft tummy of his. Steve lets out a loud groan, followed by your name and you swear, you could have come for a second time from that sound alone.Â
You withdraw your fingers as you catch your breath, your chest heaving and body still buzzing after the intensity of your orgasm.
Finally, after taking a moment or two to prepare yourself, you finally look at Steveâs face. He was already looking at you and smiling.
âSee,â he breathes out. âNothingâs wrong with you. Itâs all about trust.â
âSteve Harrington being right for once?â You say, smiling. âIt must be a miracle.â
You both laugh and though you both clean up, get dressed and promise each other nothing will change between youâdeep down you both knew that after tonight? Things would never be the same again.
⥠Steve touches you as if he can press the truth directly into your skin.
Warnings : 18+ / MDNI! âą Enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst (blood/injuries, fear of losing someone), smoking (cigarette), smut (unprotected sex, fingering, semi-public ie outside), emotional vulnerability, protective Steve Harrington, praise kink(?) with themes of trauma, self-worth, and comfort throughout
Pairing : Steve Harrington x impossible girl!Henderson!reader
Word count: 7.3k
Summary: After yet another failed crawl leaves you trapped beneath collapsing concrete, Steve Harrington finally snaps. Forcing you to confront what you really mean to him.
Chefâs Note: yes, the glasses stay on. Send any tips to this customer @roseswebcorner (Order in comments) âĄ
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Rain spits against the windows of the station, turning the parking lot outside into a smear of neon reflections and black asphalt. The âWSQKâ sign buzzes red against the storm, flickering ominously over puddles and the van which Steve had abandoned at an angle near the curb, one wheel half up on the pavement.Â
Wind rattles the broken gutter overhead, and through the rain-streaked glass you can just about make him out, standing beneath the awning. Barely sheltered.Â
Head tipped back against the brick. White t-shirt damp beneath his cord jacket where the rain had soaked through. Hair curling at the edges, pushed back off his forehead evidently from running his hands through it. His wire-framed glasses catch the red every few seconds, briefly obscuring the exhausted look underneath them before the light flickers away.Â
Steve.Â
Steve with blood drying across his knuckles.
Steve with a cigarette between his fingers despite the fact he told the others heâd quit months ago.
You push open the station door and step out into the damp night air, the storm immediately swallowing you whole. Instinctively wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself.
He spares you the briefest of glances when you step out, closing the door behind you. His eyes catch yours; sharp for half a second before he drops his gaze back to the cigarette between his fingers, jaw tight behind the slow curl of smoke.
You cross the narrow space between you and lean against the wall opposite him, back against damp brick. Rainwater drips steadily from the edge of the awning between you, hitting the pavement in uneven taps.Â
Neither of you speak. Steve just takes another drag; choosing to focus on that and not the fact that you followed him out here.
âYou know those things kill you, right?â you say eventually, voice so uneven you're not sure you sound like yourself.Â
He lets out a humorless huff through his nose. âThink Iâm aware.âÂ
The stick glows orange between his fingers. You just watch his hand.Â
Swollen knuckles.
Split skin.
A faint smear of blood slowly drying near his wrist.
Without really thinking about it, only really to distract yourself from the way your stomach twists, you reach forward and pluck the cigarette from between his fingers.
Steveâs eyes flick to you, but he doesnât move to stop you.
You take a drag before you can think it through, the smoke burning harsh down your throat. For a while no words pass between you. Just the cigarette.
Until eventually you realise you havenât stopped staring at his hand.
The way his fingers keep clenching and unclenching at his side. The almost imperceptible wince every now and then that he doesnât even realise heâs doing it.
âYou should probably clean that up.âÂ
His jaw flexes.
âYeah?â he says flatly. âYou think?â The way he looks at you when he says itâtired, angry, something rawer underneath âmakes you swallow harshly.
Steve takes the cigarette back from you, shoulders tenser than youâve ever seen them. Then, quieter but just as sharp, he adds, âMaybe you should stop giving me reasons to punch things.â
âThere it is.â You knew that was coming. The blame. Is it warranted? Probably. Do you want to hear it? No.Â
You tilt your head back against the brick, forcing your voice to be lighter than you feel, forcing yourself to say your next words. âThat wasnât my fault.â
His head lifts slowly, eyes finding yours before skirting over you just as slowly. Rain-dark hair plastered messily around your face. Mud streaked across the knees of your jeans from where you hit the ground. The tiny cut near your cheekbone you hadnât bothered cleaning.
Something sharp flashes across his face so quickly it looks physical.Â
He grits his next words out. âYou ran in there alone.â
Your jaw tightens instantly. âI had it handled.â
Steve actually laughs out that. Cutting. Slightly mocking. âYou did, did you?âÂ
A flashlight beam disappearing around the corner before he could grab your hand. Your voice crackling through the radioâIâll be fine, just cover the other sideâ
Then static.
You flinch. You donât need reminding.
The floor giving out beneath your feet. Rust and concrete collapsing inward. Your shoulder slamming hard enough into the wall to make your vision spark white.
You force yourself to shrug anyway. âBut I got out.â
âBecause of me.â Steve steps forward as he says it, the words sharper and louder than everything else heâs said tonight before he visibly catches himself.
His voice lowers again, words scrapped raw. âYou got out because I got to you in time.â
His eyes lock onto yours and donât move. Donât even blink.
And for a second neither do you. Like you're in a trance.
Rain continues to hammer down around you. Neon red flickers across the sharp line of his jaw, catches against the lenses of his glasses, turns his soaked white t-shirt pink for half a heartbeat before fading again.
You look away first.
Your jaw aches from how hard youâre clenching it. Steveâs breathing hard now, not from exertion but from whatever ugly thing heâs been trying to hold down since you all came back up.Â
âYou know what I heard?â he asks.
You donât answer. He doesnât give you time to.Â
âYou telling me to shut up, a loud crashââ His voice catches suddenly, wavering around the next part like he physically hates saying it out loud. âYou scream.â
His eyes lock back onto yours, he swallows, hard, before continuing. âAnd then nothing.â
The words hit harder than they should.Â
Because, yes, you remember it too.
The static swallowing your voice mid-sentence. The sick drop in your stomach when the tunnel floor gave out beneath you. The impact. Dust choking the air so thick you could barely breathe around it.
And then silence.
Deafening. All-consuming. Terrifying.Â
Steve drags a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding through every little move he makes. âDo you have any idea what that was like?â
You hate this.
Hate the way heâs looking at you. Hate remembering the panic clawing up your throat beneath all that concrete. Hate remembering how helpless you felt down there. Hate the fact he saw you like that.
So you default to the only thing you know how to do in a moment like this: deflection.
âIâm standing here, arenât I?â
Steveâs expression hardens instantly. âThatâs not the fucking point, Henderson.âÂ
You cross your arms tighter over your chest like a shield; voice raising to match his. âThen what is?â
For a second he just stares at you like he canât actually believe youâre asking. As if he genuinely cannot comprehend how you donât get this. And in your rational brain, maybe you do. A little. But understanding something and letting yourself feel it are two very different things.
He just laughs, again. This time itâs softer. Not quite so mocking anymore.
In fact it sounds a little wrecked.
Actually, it sounds completely and utterly wrecked.Â
âI found you trapped under concrete,â he says, rough and low, every word a struggle for him to say. âAnd you were still trying to joke with me.â
Your stomach twists, you feel your hands grow clammy and shake by your side because suddenly youâre back there.Â
Steve dropping to his knees beside you so hard the impact echoed through the building. Blood already running over his knuckles from the door heâd punched and kicked through to reach you. His hands shaking while he shoved broken debris away from your leg.
And you, dizzy and hurting and terrified in a way you didnât want to name, still forcing out:
âTook you long enough, Harrington.â
Steve had looked at you like the joke physically hurt him.
And now, eyes glassy behind rain-speckled lenses, cheeks flushed, his jaw flexes the exact same way.Â
âYou looked at me like-like it was no big dealââ
You swallow harshly, cutting him off. âIt wasnâtââ
âHow can you say that?â His voice cracks this time. Barely, but you hear it.
âJesus Christ, do you think I wanted to not be able to fucking answer Dustin when heâs screaming down the radio that youâre not answering? Cause I didnât know why you werenât. Cause you had decided to go off alone. Again.â
Rain rattles violently against the metal awning overhead. Steve looks away suddenly, dragging a hand over his mouth before shaking his head once.
âDo you think I wanted to be the one to tell him that youââ His voice catches hard enough that he has to stop. âThat youâŠâ
He canât say it.
You realise with a horrible twisting ache that he physically cannot force the words out. Like saying them aloud might make them real. Might drag you right back beneath the rubble where he found you.
The storm presses in around you both, so loud now that it almost feels intrusive. Like the night itself is listening.
Steve stares out into the rain, chest rising hard beneath the damp white t-shirt, cigarette long forgotten.Â
You donât know what to do with this version of him.
Steve annoyed? Easy.
Steve sarcastic? Easy. Typical.
Steve looking at you like losing you wouldâve broken him? That hurts.Â
In a way you don't understand. In a way that makes your chest actually ache.Â
âHe wouldâve been okay,â you say quietly, and you almost believe yourself.Â
But Steveâs head snaps toward you so fast you instantly regret it. âWhat?â
You shrug even though the motion feels stiff. Defensive. False. âDustin. He wouldâve been okay.â You nod as you say it; like that will make it true.Â
For a second Steve just stares at you.Â
Then something furious flashes across his face.Â
âNo,â he says immediately. âNo, he wouldnât have.â
You open your mouth to say-to sayâyou donât know. You donât know what to say, what to do, where to look.Â
âNo.â Steve shakes his head once, sharp and disbelieving. âNo.â
You look away on instinctâthe look in his eyes, the rawness of his voice suddenly all too much. You try to make yourself smaller somehow. Fold inward. Retreat back behind the walls that usually keep people out before he can force his way through them.
But he won't let you. Not anymore. Not after today.Â
Heâs moving before you can.Â
One second thereâs space between you. And then the next there isnât.Â
Rain clings to his lashes. His glasses sit crooked from where he shoved a hand through his hair moments earlier. His chest rises hard beneath his soaked t-shirt as he steps into your space like he physically cannot stand this distance anymore..Â
And then before you can even blink his hand is grasping your jaw. Firm. Unwavering. His fingers curl against your skin and drag your face back up until your eyes are on him. Only on him.
No chance to run. No chance to hide from this. From him.
âHarringtoââ
Your voice doesnât sound like your own. Too thin. Too breathless. Like youâre begging for something you canât even name. For him to stop. For him not to stop. For him not to make you stand here and let him see you like this.
âNo. Youâre not listening to me.â His thumb presses sharply against your jaw as frustration bleeds through every word. âYou keep saying this shit like people would just get over it. Like losing you wouldn't-wouldn't mean anything.âÂ
Your pulse stumbles hard against your ribs.
âYou think Dustin wouldâve been okay?â he says incredulously.
âYou think your brother wouldnât spend the rest of his life wondering if he couldâve stopped you from running in there alone? That if he had done even the slightest thing differently that you would still be here. Going over and over and over it in his head wondering where he fucked up?â
âYou keep acting like youâre expendable,â he says, voice cracking around the last word. âAs if it wouldnât matter if you didnât come back.â
You try to pull away instinctively, discomfort clawing up your throat too fast, but Steveâs grip tightens slightly before immediately softening again when he realises it.
Not letting you go. Not letting you disappear.Â
âAnd me?â Itâs not only his voice that has broken but his expression, as he struggles to speak. âYou think I wouldâve been fucking okay?â
Heâs staring at you like he needs you to understand this. Like it matters more than his pride. More than winning any argument. More than whatever this thing between you has become.
It's almost like heâs trying to show you something in his words, in his face, in the desperation in his voice. Something heâs been trying to show you for a long time now and you just keep refusing to see.Â
If he can just make you see itâreally see itâmaybe he can stop you from slipping through his fingers next time.
Your breath catches painfully in your throat. Because the worst part isâ
Some part of you thinks you do see it.
That maybe you always have.Â
And that is infinitely more terrifying than pretending you donât.
âWhy?â you croak out before coughing lightly and trying again. âWhy?â
The question seems to knock the air out of him for a second. His brows pull together hard as he almost spits out âWhat?â
âWhy would you care?â You mean for it to sound sharp. Defensive. Detached.Â
Instead it comes out small. Confused.Â
Steve, for all his frustration and anger, just stares at you.Â
Itâs still raining heavily, wind now pushing cold mist beneath the awning, but all you can feel is the warmth of his body standing so close to yours.
Then he laughs once under his breath. But it's devoid of any humour. Â
âJesus Christ,â he mutters, swiping the hand not cupping your jaw down his face and through his hair, shaking his head. âYou really donât know.â
Immediately your defenses slam back into place. âKnow what?â you say quickly, trying for sarcasm mixed with anger and missing completely. âAll I do is annoy you.â
âWe fight constantly,â you cut in, words tumbling out faster now because if you stop talking you might actually have to hear what heâs trying to sayâwhat heâs been trying to say for years now. âI drag you into insane bullshit, I nearly got myself killed tonight, I got you injured, I make your life harder basically every time Iââ
Suddenly youâre cut off.
Not by more words.
But by a forceful pressure.
Specifically, Steve's mouth on yours.
He crashes into you. Moving like he's been holding this in for yearsâlike if he doesnât do it now, heâll drown in the weight of it. Like he cannot stand hearing one more terrible thing leave your mouth.
It's not soft. Not careful.
Itâs desperate and angry and messy, his lips pressing hard enough to bruise, his fingers digging into your jaw to keep you there.
You gasp against him, and he takes full advantage, slanting his mouth over yours again, teeth scraping, breaths mingling sharp with the almost addictive combination of nicotine and rain.Â
You stumble back a step, shoulders hitting the wall, but he doesnât let you retreat. He uses his body instead of his words to cage you in, one hand still gripping your jaw, the other braced against the wall beside your head. His glasses dig into your cheekbone, the frames cold where they press against your skin, but you donât pull away. You are not sure you could.Â
You finally snap out of the shock of it, and in that moment all you want is him closer than humanly possible. Your hands fist in the damp cotton of his shirt, dragging him closer with a desperation that surprises even you. .Â
Steve lets out a ragged moan against your mouth, the sound muffled by the sharp press of teeth and lipsâhalf frustration, half surrenderâbefore he mutters a broken, "Fuck," against your skin.Â
Itâs all hands and teeth and the dizzying press of bodies.Â
His hand slides from your jaw into your hair, gripping just tight enough to tilt your head back, exposing your throat to the scrape of his stubble.
You gasp at the feeling, and he fully takes the opportunity given to him to deepen the kiss, tongue hot and insistent, like heâs trying to rewrite every argument, every sharp word, every moment youâve spent at each otherâs throats.Â
All in this one kiss.Â
âYou think I donât care?â he murmurs against your mouth before kissing you again immediately. âJesus Christ.â
Another kiss.
Another sharp inhale.
His lips drag against yours slower this time, but no less desperate.
âI punched through a fucking door for you,â he says hoarsely, words breaking apart between kisses. âWhen I heard you screamââ His voice catches roughly. âWhen I saw you trapped down there alone I-I couldn't breathe.âÂ
Your chest aches so hard it feels unbearable.
âNot till I knew you were okay.â His hands are still shaking even as they hold onto you.
Steve kisses you again before you can speak, like he already knows youâll try to argue your way out of this too.Â
Heâs not wrong.Â
âNo,â he mutters against your lips, thumb trembling where it rests beneath your jaw. âNo, you donât get to do that anymore.â
Steve touches you like he can press the truth directly into your skin; then you might finally believe him. âYou matter to me,â he breathes against your mouth.
And then, quieter. Rougher. âSo fucking much.â
Another kiss, slower now, but somehow just as devastating.
âMore than youâll ever know,â he says hoarsely against your lips. âMore than you ever could.â
Your throat tightens dangerously. And for the first time all night, maybe ever, you donât call him Harrington.Â
.âSteveâŠâÂ
The name leaves you like something fragile, like it physically hurts you to let him hear it.Â
Hearing his name said by you, like thatâsoft, fractured, stripped bareâdestroys whatever last shred of restraint heâd been clinging to.Â
Steveâs breath stutters against your lips, his grip tightening in your hair reflexively. The sound of his name in your voiceânot Harrington, not king Steve, not something thrown at him in anger or challengeâdoes something violent to his chest.Â
He doesnât just kiss you this timeâhe devours you.Â
He drags you impossibly closer, his teeth catching your lower lip hard, his tongue sweeping in long before you can recover. Thereâs absolutely nothing gentle about itâthis is Steve memorising your mouth like it's proof youâre real.Â
That he didn't lose you before he ever got the chance to have you.Â
âBeen trying not to do this for so long,â he admits roughly against your mouth
Surprisingly, that brings a smile to your faceâa real one, small and disbelieving but thereâand you feel the tension in your chest loosen just enough to breathe. Maybe itâs the adrenaline still humming in your veins, or the way Steveâs hands are trembling where theyâre tangled in your hair, but suddenly you canât help it.Â
You tilt your head back to break the kiss, lips brushing his as you murmur, âYouâre telling me Steve Harrington, King Steve, has been pining after Hendersonâs big sister? All this time?â
Steve freezes.Â
For a second, he just stares at you, rain dripping from his lashes, mouth slightly parted like he canât decide whether to strangle you or kiss you again. Then his grip tightens in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp.Â
âYouâre fucking impossible,â he grits out, but thereâs no anger left in itâjust exasperation, fondness, something raw and aching beneath the words.
The grin tugging at your mouth only widens. âYou need to work on your moves.â
Steve blinks at you, mouth not even an inch away from yours.. âExcuse you?â
âYou heard me,â you murmur, lips still brushing his. âThatâs a little bit embarrassing, donât ya think? And not for days, or weeksâyears.âÂ
Steve lets out a disbelieving laugh.
âYou made me your enemy when really you just wanted to have me.â
Steve goes absolutely, completely, still.
For one glorious second Steve Harrington actually looks completely and utterly, beautifully speechless.
The wind changes direction causing the rain to hit the both of you. Rainwater slides down the side of his face as he stares at you, jaw flexing hardâactively trying not to react to that sentence the way he wants to.
You can practically feel the moment his patience snapsâhis fingers twitch, his jaw sets, and his gaze narrows. âYou,â he grits out, thumb tapping your chin, voice rough, âare pushing your luck.âÂ
You grin up at him, tilting your head to make his grip shift. âAm I?âÂ
His thumb presses into the hinge of your jaw, tilting your face up further. âYeah. You are.âÂ
Thereâs a beat of silenceâthen you hum, deliberately slow, eyes flicking down to his mouth and back up. âI donât think I am.âÂ
Steve exhales sharply against your lips, the heat of his breath mingling with the chill of the rain still dripping down his face. His fingers twitch where theyâre tangled in your hair, grip tightening just enough to make it hurt. âWe shouldnât be doing this,â he mutters, voice roughâhalf protest, half plea.
You meet his gaze, eyes innocentâunaffectedârainwater catching on your lashes. âThen stop.â Â
His jaw flexes. He doesnât move. Doesnât blink.Â
His thumb drags slowly along your jawline, pressing just shy of painful when it catches on the curve of your chin. Then it traces your jawline, slow and deliberate, before his fingers drop lower. Curling into the damp fabric of your shirt, then dragging downward until they catch on the waistband of your jeans.Â
His gaze locks onto yours, challenge burning behind rain-speckled lenses. "You wouldn't care?" he murmurs, voice rougher than the storm overhead.Â
You tilt your head, feigning indifference even as your pulse kicks violently against your ribs. "Mm?"Â
He flicks the button open, fingers hovering over the zip. "So if I justâ"Â
His gaze is locked onto yours, daring you to stop this. Daring you to stop him.Â
The zipper rasps open under his touch, cold air biting at exposed skin as his hand slides in. His fingers trace the dip of your hipbone, rough and warm against the bite of the wind.Â
"You wouldnât care if I went back inside?" he murmurs, voice scraping low.
Your breath hitches. You should push him away. Should say something sharp, something defensive but all you can manage is a shaky exhale as his fingers dip lower, skimming the edge of your underwear.Â
Steve watches you with a focus that borders on predatory. His fingers pause, testing, waiting for you to bolt or shove him back. When you donât, his lips twitchânot quite a smirk, but something darker. Something hungrier.Â
"Guess that answers that," he mutters, and then his hand is sliding fully into your pants, palm hot against your stomach.
Steveâs fingers slide beneath your underwear with a precision that shouldnât be possible given how badly his hands were shaking moments ago. His fingers dip lower, finding you already wetâimpossibly soâdespite the cold, despite the argument, despite everything.
His breath hitches against your throat. âFuck,â he mutters, half to himself, half to you.
You gasp, sharp and involuntary, your hands scrambling for purchase against his rain-damp jacket as your legs threaten to give out entirely.Â
Steve doesnât give you the chance to collapse.
His free hand slides around your hip, fingers digging into the curve of your ass, hauling you up against him like you weigh nothing. Your thigh instinctively hooks around his waist as he pins you against the brick wall.
All the while he doesnât stop, his fingers working you with a rhythm that borders on punishing, his palm grinding against your clit with every upward stroke.Â
You bite down on a moan, forehead dropping against his shoulder, nails raking down the front of his jacket, his neckâreally anywhere you can reach. .Â
The angle is awkward: the wall digging into you, his glasses still digging into your cheekbone, but none of it matters. Not when his thumb circles onceâhardâand your vision whites out for a second, hips jerking against his hand.Â
âFuckâSteveââ The name tears out of you, ragged and broken, as his fingers curl just right, pressing deep.
Your gaze catches briefly on the split skin across his knuckles where his hand grips your hip. âCareful,â you breathe instinctively. âYour handââ
Steve lets out a rough, disbelieving laugh against your throat, forehead dropping briefly to your shoulder like the concern physically hurts him. âDonât care,â he mutters.Â
Before sinking his teeth into the curve of your neck hard; claiming the space between your pulse and your collarbone. Then his tongue follows, slow and hot, soothing the sting in a way that makes your knees threaten to buckle again.Â
All the while, his fingers donât stop moving inside you; dragging a choked, alien noise from your lips.
âStill think I donât care?â he mutters against your skin. His thumb circles your clit again, deliberate, relentless, and you choke on absolutely nothing.Â
You donât get a chance to answerânot that you could even form words right nowâbecause Steveâs mouth is back on yours. Fingers working you faster, rougher, until your breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps against his mouth.
He continues, this time his breath fans your ear, âStill think I hate you?â he repeats.Â
You whineâitâs high, desperate and patheticâin the back of your throat. His palm grinds against your clit; everything is too much and not enough all at once.Â
âHoneyââ Steveâs voice cracks around the word, rough with something that isnât just frustration anymore. âI could never hate you.â His fingers curl inside you, pressing deep enough to punch out another pathetic whine.Â
âYou annoy the absolute shit out of me,â he admits hoarsely. âYou drive me insane. You never listen to me, you throw yourself into danger without a single thought about yourself, and every time you do I just wanna grab you and shake some sense into you.â
His thumb strokes your cheek almost unconsciously as he says it. The softest he has ever touched youâby far.Â
âBut hate you?â Steve lets out a breathless laugh, the idea utterly ridiculous to him. âJesus Christ.â He cuts himself off with a ragged exhale, forehead dropping against yours as his thumb circles your clit in slow, deliberate strokes.Â
âYou walk into a room and suddenly I canât think properly.â
Your stomach flips violently.
âYou argue with me about everything.â
âI do notââ
âYouâre literally about to,â he says immediately, kissing the corner of your mouth when you glare at him.
It pulls the smallest unwilling laugh from you but you still canât help but roll your eyes.
Steveâs expression softens at the sound instantly. And then more seriously, even more sincerely:
âI know what kind of mood youâre in by how hard you slam a door. I know when youâre lying by the scrunch of your nose.â His jaw tightens slightly.
âI knew you were in trouble tonight before anyone else even realised something was wrong.â
Your chest aches.
Steve swallows hard, eyes flicking over your face like heâs trying to make you understand something impossible. âYouâre not forgettable,â he says quietly.
The words hit harder than they should.
His thumb brushes your cheek almost absently, tenderness bleeding through every movement now.
âYou walk into a room and people look for you when you leave it.â His voice roughens slightly. âYouâre loud and difficult and stubborn as hell and somehow you still make everything feelâŠâ He breaks off with a frustrated breathless laugh, shaking his head once. âFuck.â
Your pulse stumbles beneath his hand.
Steve presses his forehead against yours again before finishing quietly:
âYouâre everything.â
Your breath catches to the point where you think you might stop breathing.Â
He closes his eyes briefly as if he didnât mean to say that part out loud. But when he looks at you again, he doesnât take it back. He doubles down.Â
âAnd I need- I need you to believe that.â
âI tried not toââ He cuts himself off with another rough laugh. âI really fucking tried not to do this.â
âBut then you smile at me,â he says softly, almost accusingly. âOr you say my name and suddenly Iâm done for.â
You stare at him speechless.
Steve brushes his nose against yours gently before kissing you again, nowhere near as frantic this time but somehow all the more intimate for it.
âSo no,â he murmurs against your lips. âI donât hate you.â
A pause.
Then, quieter:
âI think-â he pauses, taking a deep breath, his fingers slowing, âI think-Iâve been in love with you for a really, really long time.â
You whineâhigh-pitched and completely brokenâas Steveâs fingers thrust just right, pressing deep, and suddenly the world fractures.
Your back arches off the wall, thighs clamping tight around him, nails biting into the damp fabric of his jacket as pleasure crashes over you in waves so sharp you actually canât breathe.
And Steve? Steve doesnât let you ride it out in peace. His mouth finds yours again, kissing you through the aftershocks. His tongue licks into your mouth just as his thumb circles your oversensitive clit, dragging a sob from you that he swallows greedily.Â
"That's it," Steve murmurs against your temple, lips brushing damp skin as your hands scramble clumsily over his shoulders. "Good girl."Â
The praise sends yet another shudder through you, legs still trembling from the aftershocks. You're barely lucid, fingers twisting in his soaked shirt as you press impossibly closer with a whineâhigh and needy, the sound muffled against his collarbone where your mouth rests.Â
"Steveâ" Your voice cracks around his name, raw from earlier shouts now reduced to breathless pleading. "Pleaseâ"Â
"What, baby?" His fingers stroke gently through slick heat, coaxing another weak jerk of your hips. Rainwater drips from his hair onto your flushed cheeks when he leans down. "What do you need?"Â
You can't answerânot coherently at leastâjust rut against his hand with a broken noise, oversensitive but desperate for more after he just gave you the best orgasm of your life.
His chuckle is dark, warm against your ear as his free hand slides up to your jaw, cradling it. âGonna need you to say it baby.âÂ
The words shouldnât wreck you the way they do. They absolutely shouldnât send heat coiling low in your stomach all over againâbut they do.
They absolutely do, and Steve absolutely knows it. You can see it in the way his eyes darken behind his glasses, in the way his thumb presses just under your chin, tilting your face up slowly.Â
âSay it,â he murmurs, lips brushing yours, the ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. âTell me what you want.â
You swallow hard, your throat working around nothing, because god, this is torture.Â
The way his fingers are still inside you, curled just enough to tease but not enough to give you what you need. The way his breath fans over your lips, warm and uneven, like heâs barely holding himself together. The way his glasses are fogged beyond repair, rainwater clinging to his lashes, his hair a mess from where youâve dragged your hands through it god knows how many times.Â
You hate the way you soundâwhining, desperate, voice cracking around his name like some lovesick idiotâbut god, you donât care. Not now. Maybe later.Â
"Steve," you murmur again, hands fisting desperately in the soaked fabric of his shirt, vying to drag him closer even though thereâs not an ounce of space left between you.
He hums, considering, like heâs weighing whether to give inâand for one stupid, hopeful second, you think he will. But then he pulls his fingers out of you with a slow, deliberate drag that makes your hips jerk forward instinctivelyâ chasing the loss, the sudden emptinessâonly for his free hand to press flat against your stomach, holding you firmly against the wall.Â
He lifts his fingers to his mouth, tongue curling around them in a slow, obscene lick that elicits a moan from your throat before you can stop it.Â
You could kill him. You will kill him. Later. After.
His gaze locks onto yours, dark and unreadable behind rain-speckled lenses, as he cleans every last trace of you off his fingers with agonising precision.Â
Your face burns, your thighs twitch, and somewhere in the back of your mind you know you should be embarrassedâshould really shove him away or snap something sarcasticâbut all you manage is a weak, "Fuck."
Annoyingly causing Steveâs mouth to lift into a smug little smile.
âWant you,â you whisper helplessly, forehead knocking lightly against his shoulder. âIdiot.â
"Thatâs not very nice, now is it, baby?" Steve murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear.Â
You huff, fucking hellâwhat more does he want for you?Â
His thumb presses into the delicate skin beneath your jaw, tilting your head back until you have no choice but to meet his gaze. âCalling me an idiot," he continues, voice dropping lower, "after I just let you come?"Â
His other hand slides up your side, slow and deliberate, until his palm rests over your hammering heartbeat. "Youâre such a brat," he mutters against your lips, breath uneven. "Always have been."
Steve exhales sharply before he relents. His hands dropping to his belt in rough, jerky movements. The buckle clinks too loud, his fingers fumbling slightly with the button of his jeans before he finally shoves them down just far enough to free himself.Â
He doesnât give you what you want, though, not quite yet. Instead, he presses the hot, heavy length of himself against your thigh, rocking forward just enough to make you gasp at the contact, the friction maddeningly light.
"Say it," he murmurs, lips brushing yours as his fingers tighten on your hipânot guiding, not forcing, just there, holding you in place while his cock twitches against your skin. "Say you believe me."
You bite your lip hard enough to taste blood, hips jerking involuntarily against nothing, desperate for more. For him.Â
Steve doesnât let you. His forehead knocks clumsily against yours, his breath coming in ragged bursts between kisses that are more teeth than anything else..
"Say youâll think twice next time," he growls, dragging his mouth down your jaw to nip at your pulse point. His hips roll forward again, the head of his cock catching against your clit for one devastating second before he pulls back, leaving you gasping. "Say it."
You whine, nails scraping down the skin of his neck as you try to pull him closer, but Steve resists, his grip ironclad.Â
His laugh is dark, uneven, his lips curling against your throat while you buck against him fruitlessly. "Nuh-uh, sweetheart. Not until youâfuckâ"
His words cut off abruptly when your teeth sink into his shoulder, his hips stuttering forward instinctively before he wrenches himself back with a muttered curse.
His grip tightens in your hair, tilting your head back until you have no choice but to meet his gaze. "You think this is a joke?" he murmurs, thumb brushing your swollen lower lip.
"You think I donât fucking mean it when I say I canât lose you?"Â
You arch toward him instinctively, but Steve doesnât budge. Just watches you with that same unreadable expression.
"Tell me you believe me," he whispers, voice rough with something that isnât just want anymore. "Tell me you know how much Iâ" He cuts himself off abruptly, fingers flexing against your hip like heâs physically restraining himself from finishing that sentence.Â
But itâs the look in his eyes that finally undoes you.Â
Not the way his hands shake where they grip your hips, not the ragged edge of his voice when he says your nameâno, itâs the raw, unfiltered fear behind those rain-speckled glasses. .Â
Steve Harrington, whoâs spent years pretending he doesnât care about anything, looks at you like youâre the only thing left in the world that matters.Â
And something inside you finally breaks.
Your hands move before you can stop them.
You grab his face hard enough to push his crooked glasses further up his nose, fingers cold and shaking against rain-damp skin as you drag him down toward you.
âHey,â you whisper, voice cracking badly enough that Steve immediately stills. âHey.â
Your forehead presses against his.
And for the first time tonight, you stop trying to pull away from what heâs giving you.
You let yourself feel it.
The fear.
The relief.
Him.
Your eyes burn suddenly, embarrassingly, and you let out one sharp, frustrated breath that sounds dangerously close to a laugh.
âIâm here,â you whisper brokenly, trying to convince the both of you.
Steve makes a wrecked sound at that. His hands tighten on your hips almost painfully. âYeah,â he breathes instantly, nodding quickly. âYeah, youâre here.â
Your throat tightens so hard it hurts.
And suddenly, the words are there before you can stop them.Â
âI do.âÂ
The confession slips out in a whisper, barely audible over the storm, but Steve goes utterly still.Â
His breath catches audibly, fingers twitching against your skin like heâs been shocked. For one terrifying second, you think he might pull awayâmight bolt like a spooked animalâbut then his forehead drops against yours with a shuddering exhale.Â
âSay it again,â he rasps, voice cracking. His thumb traces your lower lip, smearing rainwater. âPlease.â
âI do,â you whisper again, voice cracking. His breath stutters against your temple, his fingers trembling where they grip your thighsâlike heâs afraid youâll take it back.
Then he moves.
Thereâs no finesse to it, just raw emotion.Â
Just Steveâs hands gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise as he presses into you with a ragged groan that gets lost in the rain. The stretch burns briefly before giving way to a fullness that steals your breath.Â
The sound punched from your throat is half-sob, half-laugh, the words spilling again without thought: âI do.âÂ
Steveâs hips jerk uncontrollably at that, his breath hitching like the confession is a physical blow, and then heâs moving in earnest. No rhythm, no ounce of control, just raw, shuddering need. Â
Every snap of his hips drives the words from you again, fractured and breathless: âI doâSteveâI doââ His name cracks on a moan as he angles deeper, one hand sliding up to fist in your hair, tilting your head back to expose your throat. His teeth finding your pulse point, biting down just shy of pain as his pace turns punishing, the wet slap of skin lost beneath the stormâs roar. Â
Youâre babbling now, nonsensical; repeating it like a mantra between gasps, each thrust wringing the words out like heâs starving for them.Â
Steveâs grip tightens, his other hand splaying over your ribs like heâs counting each ragged inhale, each stuttered âI doâ that spills from your lips.Â
The world fractures as pleasure crashes over you in waves so violent they steal your breath.Â
Your back arches off the wall, thighs clamping around Steveâs hips, nails biting into his shoulders as you shatter with a sob he swallows greedily.
Steve follows with a groan so broken it barely sounds human, his forehead dropping against yours as his hips jerk erratically, his fingers tightening in your hair. Â
For one suspended moment, thereâs nothing but the ragged sound of your breathing, the rain still hammering against the awning above you, Steveâs pulse thundering beneath your lips where they rest against his throat.
Then reality rushes back in all too quicklyâthe cold brick against your back, the damp fabric of your clothes clinging uncomfortably to your skin, Steveâs glasses digging into your cheekbone where theyâve been knocked askew.Â
He doesnât pull away.Â
Neither do you.Â
Instead, his hands slide up your back, slow and unsteady, smoothing over the rumpled fabric of your jacket. âYouâre okay,â he murmurs, lips brushing your temple. Whispered so quiet you know he doesn't mean for you to hear it. Â
One hand rises to card through your tangled hair, fingers gentle where they work through the knots. âYouâre okay.âÂ
The words are less a statement than a plea, repeated like a prayer as his breathing gradually slows.Â
When you tilt your head back to look at him, his glasses are fogged beyond recognition, rainwater and sweat streaking down his flushed cheeks. He looks wrecked. Beautiful.Â
Your fingers rise to push his glasses up his nose, clumsy with exhaustion, and Steve catches your wrist before you can.
His thumb brushes over your racing pulse, his gaze dropping to your swollen lips, then lowerâto the mark blooming on your collarbone, the rumpled state of your clothes. Something dark flickers in his eyes before he exhales sharply, forehead dropping to rest against yours again.
ââM okay,â you murmur softly, fingers brushing back his rain-damp hair where itâs plastered to his forehead.Â
Steve exhales sharplyâhalf laugh, half sobâhis breath warm against your lips as his hands slide up to cradle your face. His thumbs trace the hollows beneath your eyes with a reverence that makes your chest ache.Â
âYouâre not,â he counters, voice cracking, glasses still crooked, but you can still see the raw fear lingering in his gaze.
His fingers tighten fractionally, like heâs physically willing you to understand. âYou were under a building, you idiot.â The words crack on the last syllable, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as his breathing stutters.Â
You can feel him shakingâfine tremors running through his arms where they cage you against the wall, the rapid flutter of his pulse beneath your fingertips when you touch his throat. Itâs unnerving. Steve Harrington doesnât tremble. Steve Harrington doesnât falter.Â
But he is now.Â
Under your fingertips.Â
His glasses slip further down his nose when he tilts his head to press a kiss to your templeâclumsy, unpracticed, achingly tender. âChrist,â he mutters against your skin, voice thick. âYou scared the shit out of me.â
Your chest aches at the honesty of it.Â
Steve Harringtonâloud, stubborn, impossible Steve Harringtonâstanding here shaking in your arms because of you.
Your sworn enemy.
The bane of your existence.
The boy who could rile you up with nothing more than the arch of an eyebrow and one stupid smug look.
And yet here he is, holding you like losing you wouldâve destroyed him.
Slowly, carefully, you reach up and straighten his glasses for him. Itâs the smallest thing. Basic decency, really.
But it hits him anyway.
You see it happen in real timeâthe way his breath catches softly, the way his eyes lose some of that frantic edge as they search your face. As if he canât quite believe youâre touching him so gently.Â
Steveâs gaze drops briefly to your mouth before lifting back to your eyes again, softer now than you think youâve ever seen it.
âCâmere,â he murmurs quietly.
This time when he kisses you, it isnât desperate.
No teeth.
No frantic grasping.
No fear.
Just warmth.
His hands cradle your face carefully, thumbs brushing your cheeks while your fingers curl into the damp collar of his jacket. The kiss is slow enough that you can actually feel it this timeâevery soft press of his lips, every shaky exhale against your mouth, every lingering second of him choosing you.
Like coming home after being lost for a very long time.
And for onceâ
you donât fight it.
You let yourself be held.
P.S. I do not recommend engaging in this type of behaviour after having a building collapse on you. Please seek medical attention first. Lots of love, the chef âĄ
summary: you loved steve more than life itself, but how could you ever tell him how you felt when he could just say you weren't the one he wanted? so what happens when he finds you at a barâdrunk enough to ruin everything.
a/n: i love bella kay so so so much. i knew i had to make a fic based on her new song promise. tysm for all the love on my most recent song fic gold rush!! i hope you enjoy this one just as much! <3
Lately, it seemed Steve Harrington was responsible for all of your fears.
Not because he was dangerous or meanâno, Steve Harrington wasn't kind enough to give you a reason to fear him. In fact, Steve was the sweetest, most thoughtful man you've ever metâalways remembering little details, walking you to your car or your door, sometimes, it seemed the only thing he had on his mind was your happiness.
But it wasn't that you were scared of him; you were scared of him knowing.
You were terrified he would find outâthat one day he would catch on to how fast your heart beat around him, how shy you got when he was near. You would freeze like a deer in headlights every time he looked at you for too long, reading your thoughts like he was strategizing the best mode of attack.
You wouldn't survive Steve figuring out even half of the things you thought about when it came to him.
He could never know that he was the reason for the bags under your eyesâthat the sound of his voice kept you up at night, endlessly singing a lullaby you were too in love with to fall asleep to. He couldn't know that he existed in every thought you had. There was no benefit in him knowing that you would picture him at your side everywhere you went.
This wasn't healthy anymoreâyour obsession. It didn't take a doctor's diagnosis for you to know your time was limitedâthat his eyes would be the death of you. You would die as you lived: flying too close to the sun that was Steve Harrington.
But Steve didn't know he was killing you.
Sometimes, you surmised that he didâthat he consciously wielded his smile against you, a calculated attack.
But Steve wasn't cruel; he was just clueless.
Steve Harrington had ruined you and everything you were on accident. He had unintentionally destroyed your chance of ever finding happiness in anyone else. He had unknowingly shaped your heart into something newâsomething that fed you warmth instead of blood, life instead of survival.
So giving him the chance to break it?
That would be suicide.
You weren't sure how many drinks you had emptied tonight. Somewhere between the second glass and the club lights turning into Steve's eyes, you stopped counting. You weren't even that big of a drinker. You didn't care for the paint thinner like taste or the way it would stain your tongue, a permanent aftertaste you couldn't force out.Â
But the other option was having Steve Harrington plague your sober thoughts.
And you were never much of a masochist.
Every drink felt like a way to flush him out of your system, every shot a means to detox. But Steve Harrington was turning out to be the worst virus you had the horror of contracting.
Steve was in everything around youâevery drop of rain that swarmed outside the club, every bitter flavor on your tongue, and every fear coursing through your veins.
You were scared that he would never want you back. You were scared of how he would look at you if he knew the truth.
But most importantly, you were scared to death that you would never stop loving himâthat even his rejection wouldn't be enough to deter your foolish heart. Every star you saw, every eyelash that fell, and every dandelion you crossed knew all about Steve Harrington by now.
The reason for your misery as well as the beating of your pulse.
You heard your name being called, ripping you out of your daydream into a new problem: Steve Harrington in the distance.
You blinked at his approaching figure. God, he had the biggest smile on his faceâlike a child with a crooked grin, he beamed at you, chuckling to himself.
This was in your head, right? A figment of your imagination? You figured you must have knocked yourself out a while backâ
"What are you doing here?" Steve's scent invaded your senses as he joined your side at the bar. Now, your dreams with him were more lifelike than you cared to admit, but even in your most vivid dreams you had never smelled him beforeâhis signature cologne that he would take to his grave, his hairspray that lingered in his absence. This was real. Steve Harrington. Here. Live and in person for your viewing pleasure.
You guessed you should've realized by now that the universe had a sick sense of humor.
It wasn't until you saw the tilt of his head that you realized you never responded.
âHi!" Your voice came out louder than you had anticipated startling Steve. Since when did you sound like that?
"I'mâIâm uh, drinking,â you answered somewhat quieter. Your off-putting and awkward laughter was still doing enough to embarrass you.
Steve nodded, glancing down at your drink. âI see that,â he teased. You blushed, your eyes shifting down at your drink, a sheepish curve on your lips.
Fuck, if only he knew how shy he made you. Steve Harrington had a way of making you feel like you were back to being eight years old, getting quiet around the cute boy in your class, knowing full well he never gave you a second glance.
âYou been here a while?â Steve asked. You didn't need to see him to know he was tilting his head at you.Â
âMaybe,â you murmured, looking back at him. Big mistake. What were you saying again?
âI lost track of time aâa while back.â
âYeah?â Steve glanced down at the amount of glasses you had collected. âDrowning your sorrows?â He smirked at you. You saw right through itâthe blurry state of your mind wasn't enough to keep you from noticing the pinch in his eyebrows, the concern in his voice. That classic Steve Harrington attentiveness he hid under layers of charisma.
âOh, this? No! No, I'm fine!â You sounded anything but, laughing at a nonexistent joke that may have just been yourself. âJust, um, you know... got thirsty,â you supplied shyly.
Something in your tone seemed to settle with Steve. âHow about we get you home, yeah?â
Your eyebrows shot up. Jesus, were you that big of a mess? âOh, no! No, IâI couldn't ask you to do that.â
âYou're not asking,â Steve shook his head, touching your arm gently. The contact could've melted you into nothing if you weren't sitting down. âI'm offering. Come on, I'll give you a ride home.â
Your throat felt dry. You couldn't stop looking at his lips, his hair and the way it fell in his stupid, mesmerizing eyes.Â
âOâOkay." You tried to get up from your seat, quickly stumbling over your feet as you stood. Since when did those get there?
âHey, there,â Steve steadied you, his hand on your waist. âCareful now. Don't want you hurting yourself.âÂ
Everything in your head was static with him so close to you. âThink you can walk?â You peered down towards your feet, stepping one foot forward, only to trip on the next step.Â
âOkay!â Steve immediately caught you. You whined out of embarrassment. Christ, you were pathetic. âIt's okay, sweetheart, I got you.â Steve promised, supporting you at his side, his arm draped around your shoulders.
Sweetheart.
You wondered if that could count as attempted murder in a court of law.
Somewhere along the way to your place, everything had gotten a lot more amusing. The silly vocals on the radio, the people walking across the street, and you could swear there were suddenly faces on the backs of the cars.Â
âSteve! I'm serious, look! That one's smiling!â You enthusiastically pointed in front of you, way too upbeat for this late at night.
Steve nodded along. âI know, sweetheart. You told me two minutes ago.â
âNo, that was the mean car!"
"The one that was going to follow us and kill you when you least expect it?" Steve teased.
"It had teeth, Steve!"
Steve laughed at your vivacity. Despite your love for him feeling immeasurable, an argument could be made that you loved making him laugh even more.
You rolled your eyes. "Fine! Laugh all you want, but I'm onto something here."
Steve shook his head, unable to erase the smile you brought out in him. "I'm sure you are, sweetheart, The car's long gone, though, yeah?" Steve smiled, glancing over at you. "No one's killing you tonight. Not on my watch."
You watched the corners of Steve's mouth lift, the subtle change in his features making your heart feel tighter, your thoughts looserâ
âYou'd be a cute car,â you murmured.
Steve's eyebrow raised. If you weren't so out of it, you might've caught the way the car briefly shifted off-center, his grip on the wheel faltering.
âWould I, now?â Steve questioned, his voice somewhat strained by a stutter you didn't pick up.
âYeahâŠâ you sighed. You should really stop talkingâ âYou have the most pretty smile.âÂ
Damn it.
Steve cleared his throat. The dark of the night covered up the tips of his ears turning pink. âThâThank you, sweetheart,â he stammered. âYouâYou have a pretty smile, too.â
You felt warmth quickly travel from your neck to your cheeks, the corners of your mouth curving into a shy and nervous smile as your hands fiddled with each other. âReally?â
Steve smiled again. âThe prettiest," he glanced over at you, giving you a wink.
If you didn't wake up in the morning, you were sure Steve Harrington would be the prime suspect.
Right under the scary car.
âOkay, there we go. One more step.â Steve carefully guided you into the apartment, each of your steps getting looser and looser. âJust like that, you're almost there.â
With one wrong step, you collapsed to the ground before Steve could stop you. You burst out into a fit of laughter. Steve loomed over you, exasperated. âHaving fun down there?â
Steve's question went one ear and out the other. You were full on cackling on the ground, tears springing in your eyes, hunching over, stomach hurtingâthe kind of laugh that felt like freedom. âI'm on the ground,â you wheezed, running out of breath.
You heard Steve crack up from above. "So I noticed." God, the sound of his laugh made you feel so giddy inside, as if you were the one thing that made him happy. You wanted to be the only thing he required to be happy. You prayed every night to be needed by himâto be craved for once in your life. You wanted to be the one thing Steve Harrington needed to feel alive.Â
You rolled about to see him smirking over you. Looking up at him like this,âthe ceiling light framing his headâyou could've very well mistaken him for an angel descended from the heavens, lowered only for you to worship.
"Hi," you whispered.
Steve chuckled under his breath, "Hi, sweetheart."
The moment lingered between you the way memory foam sinks: a subtle, calming descent, luring you deeper and deeperâ
"Come on," Steve sighed, extending his hand out for you to take, "Let's get you off the ground."
âNo,â you whined, turning away from his hand like a petulant child. "It's cozy down here.â
âYeah, and dirty,â Steve insisted, reaching for your hand anyway. âAnd I know you well enough to know you're gonna be pissed in the morning when I tell you you were rolling on the ground.â
You couldn't argue with his logic, but that didn't stop you from pouting as he pulled you up.
Steve shook his head. âAht, don't give me that look,â he warned. His actions contradicted his father-like tone as he cupped your head in his hands with a featherlight gentlenessâone you had never received from yours.
Steve turned your head side to side. âI don't see anythingâŠâ he mumbled to himself. You let him bow your head as he checked your roots. âAll good, pretty girl." Steve tilted you back up to face him.
The rhythm of your heart faltered. Steve's mouth was curved in a soft smile, his lips soft and kind. You peeked at his eyes only to find them directed towards your mouth.
Time stilled in the space between you. The world continued as normalâcars honked, children slept, insects buzzed in the nightâbut the air the two of you shared froze, sacred between your bodies. Only when you redirected your gaze to his lips did the space blaze again.
Steve cleared his throat, taking a step back from you, as if the heat your heart emmited burned him backward. âOff to bed, yeah?â Steve sighed, wearing a tighter smile than before.Â
âOâOkay.â Your euphoric nature had softened. Steve nodded, supporting you with his arm around you again. You whined as Steve attempted to guide you again. âNo more steps, Steve. PleaseâŠâÂ
Steve huffed. âWhat, you want me to carry you on my back?â The mischievous gleam in your eyesâthat spawned in record timeâtold him he had made a mistake.
âYes!â Your excitement came back full force. âPlease?â
You stepped closer to him before quickly fumbling on your feet again. Your misstep seemed to convince Steve that carrying you would be simpler than watching you continue to toddle around for another fifteen minutes.Â
âOkay,â Steve relented. He couldn't shield his smile as you jumped upon his back, squealing with excitement. He settled you up higher, locking his arms around your knees securely. âHang on tight.â
You let your chin rest on his shoulder as he carried you to your bedroom. Wrapped around his body, you felt safer than ever, encompassed in an illusion where Steve was yoursâhis body the solace you'd been chasing since you were little, the kind thatâ
ââOff you go,â Steve huffed as he rolled you onto your mattress, making you squeal again.Â
You gasped upon feeling your bed under your skin againâas if the covers had secretly turned into clouds in your departure.Â
âOh my God!â You snuggled further in the softness of your pillows, your eyes shutting in bliss. âI'm never leaving you again.âÂ
âNot so fast,â Steve called from afar. Your eyes peeked open to see him returning from your closet. âYou gotta change, sweet girl.âÂ
It was almost annoying that Steve remembered how much you detested wearing outside clothes on your bed. That fact didn't stop you from pouting with a brief whimper, unable to stand the idea of leaving your newfound paradiseâor at least, the only one you could keep.
âI know, I know,â Steve cooed. âJust this one last thing, and then I'll let you stay in bed forever, alright?â
It wasn't long before you caved, outstretching your arms to him. Even intoxicated, you were unable to say no to Steve.
âWrap your arms around my neck, sweetheart,â Steve muttered before he lifted your body in his arms, carrying you bridal style.Â
âWhere we going?â Your voice came out small as you rested in his arms.
âBathroom,â he murmured softly to you. You hummed in acknowledgement.
The next thing you knew, Steve was setting you down on the toilet seat. He handled you with such care that it felt like you were fragileâlike you were his.
âI'll go get your clothes." He disappeared out the door before you could protest.
His absence felt heavier than you expected. Like there was a weight he was carrying just for you, now abandoned on your bathroom floor.
Your eyes shut, head tilting back. This was ridiculous. Steve had been gone for only a minute, but already you felt like dying if you didn't see him again. Like an addict going through withdrawals.
âSteve?â
âYeah?â Steve returned shortly, a change of clothes gathered in his arms. âWhat's wrong?â The tips of your ears turned pink from the sound of his voice, the devotion in it
âI missed you...â you confessed.
You were being too honest. You needed to leave it alone. Steve and you were friends. You wouldn't take that back for the worldânot even the one you wanted. Not even the one you were looking at right now.
âWell, I'm back,â Steve grinned. âYou think you can change on your own?âÂ
His smile burdened the weight again, lightening the atmosphere. You nodded, standing up with Steve's help.
âAlright, I'll be just outside, okay? Holler if you need me.â He winked at you, leaving the bathroom to give you your privacy.Â
As you stepped out of your clothes, you couldn't stop yourself from picturing him next to you, his voice, his smile. Why did he have to be so beautiful? Didn't he know how unfair it was? To be plagued by his eyes every minute of your life? You didn't know if you would ever move on from the fantasy that was Steve Harâ
Your shirt was stuck
You had tangled your arms on the way out, rendering them uselessly flailing about. You attempted to escape to no avail, making yourself laugh at the absurdity of it all.
âSteve!â You called, giggling.Â
âWhat's wrong?â He called from the other side of the door, immediately on alert. âAre you okay?â
âI'm stuck,â you answered, once again trying with no luck.
Steve's voice paused. âStuck?âÂ
âMy shirt!â You started to laugh fuller. Steve opened the door. You felt his hand struggle to find your shoulder. Once he got a grip on your shirt, he carefully helped you get it off, leaving you to find his eyes shut tight.
âGot it?â You vaguely heard the swallow in his throat.Â
âYep. Thank you, Steve.â
Steve delivered you a brief nod before tentatively spinning around, trying to find his way back to the door without opening his eyes.
Once you finally got done getting ready for the night, you had enough strength to open the bathroom door without falling over. Steve was leaned back against the wall of the hallway, his eyes focused on your old shirt in his handsâthe lacy fabric in his fingers.Â
He quickly caught your eyes. You would have been more embarrassed if you were soberâyour makeup wiped off, hair a mess, and in your old, stained pajamasâbut something about the look in Steve's eyes made you feel secure, as if he would never look at you as anything other than beautiful.
âHi,â you rocked on the soles of your feet, hands swinging about.Â
âHi,â Steve replied breathlessly. âYou look beautiful.â You giggled at his compliment, taking a few wobbly steps towards him until you were leaning against his chest. He carefully cradled you in his arms once again, bringing you to bed like a husband would a wife.
In this moment, all you could think about was how much you loved himâhow it felt like it could burst out of your chest, spill from your heartâyou were in so deep, you could've been labeled as drowning.
âI have something to tell you,â you whispered, grinning up at him.Â
Steve mirrored your expression, glancing down at you. âYeah, what's that?â
You shook your head. âCan't tell ya. It's a secret,â you answered.Â
Steve's head tilted to one side. âA secret? Since when do you hide things from me?â
You giggled again, confusing Steve further. âYou're not supposed to know!â
âWhy?â Steve wondered.
âIt's important,â you clarified, dizzy with delight.
âDon't you think I should know, if it's so important then?â Steve asked as he set you down on your bed.
You bit your lip in thought as Steve tucked you in for bed. âMaybeâŠâ you mumbled to yourself. Steve sat down next to you as you pondered. âOkay! But I'll only tell you if you promise me I can take it back.âÂ
âWhâWhat do you mean take it back?â
âYou know,â you waved your hand, âin case you don't like it.â You just barely caught the pinch between Steve's brows return.Â
You searched his face. âI just don't want you to get upset with me,â you slurred, trying to explain to Steve that you couldn't dare to risk losing him.
He sighed before tucking back a lock of your hair that had fallen out of place. âI could never be upset with you,â he answered softly. âOkay, I promise whatever you say, you can take it back. No being upset.â Steve vowed, hand over his heart.
Your smile warmed at the gesture. So simple, and yet so Steve. It made your heart flutter.
âGo ahead, then.â Steve encouraged you, obviously eager to hear.
âI like you,â you admitted, chuckling through the sentence.
Steve nodded along, chuckling too. âI like you too, sweetheart.â
âNo,â you shook your head, drawing closer. âI like you, Steve.â
Steve froze, his anticipation from before you could catch it.
âIâI like you so much it's ridiculous,â you confessed, sighing as you fell back against your sheets. âI think about you all the time... What you're doing, what you're thinking, if you're interested in me too.â Everything was pouring out of you now, a dam that was flooding too quick to patch. âBut I'm so scared you'll hate me if I tell you. That I'll lose youâŠâ You looked back at Steve, his mouth open but still. âI would rather die without telling you than live a life without you in it, Steve.â
Steve didn't move for a solid thirty seconds. The only sign he was even still alive was the delayed blinking of his eyelids, his thoughts practically audible. The silence dragged like quicksand, sinking you deeper and deeper until it becomes easier to accept your fate rather than claw out of the bed you made.
 "Steveâ?"
"You should go to sleep." He moved quick, rising from the bed like it was a trap.
"Wait, no. Steveâ"
"I'll sleep on the couch," he interrupted. "I'll see you in the morning, yeah? Once you sleep this off?"
Your tongue felt heavy. You wanted to tell him no. That no amount of sleep would keep you from waking up to the thought of his eyes. That he didn't need to leave and abandon you like a problem. It didn't matter if he was in the other room. Mere feet away, his departure would still cut into your heart.
You wanted to scream. To cry. To die in a ditch. But there was no other option than the one he chose for you.
"Okay."
The defeated rejection in your voice gave you deja vu, so familiar you could trace it back to every nightmare that ended this wayâwith your cards on the table and Steve leaving the game.
"Goodnight, Steve." You felt broken, shattered like the illusion your drunken state had fooled you into trusting. There was nothing in this world that felt as sacred as your relationship with Steve, and you had ruined it within a minute. A new record.
Steve paused in the doorway, turning off your lights with hesitant caution. "Goodnight, sweethâ" He cut himself off. "âdreams," he corrected. "Sweet dreams."
Sweetheart. That beautiful name he handed to you one day, knocking your world off balance, the one thing your worst nightmares couldn't take away from you, and he denied you from hearing it again.
All because you finally told him.
For the first time since you had met Steve, in the dark of your room, seconds away from sleep, Steve's voice wasn't singing you to sleep; the shut of your door scoring your thoughts instead.
In the empty space he had just occupied, you whispered to no one.
"I take it back."
The pounding in your head when you woke up wasn't enough to drown out the ache in your heart.
You wished you had forgotten, but within seconds, everything played back like a horror movie you couldn't get out of your head. You remembered everythingâthe stumbling of your feet, the symphony of Steve's laughter, the eyes that had fell on your lipsâ
The way Steve froze, the way he stepped back like you had hurt him, the look of betrayal you saw in his face.
You had ruined everything.
And you couldn't take it back.
The walk from your bedroom to the living room was more treacherous than the one you took last night. Each fall of your feet marching to the rhythm of your broken heart. You couldn't blame the knot in your stomach on Steve. This time, it was all on you.
You hesitantly stepped forward until you could see him. Steve was wide awake, seated on the couch. You could see the stiffness in his posture, the tightness in his shoulders. He looked anything but comfortable, silently waiting for something you knew you couldn't give him.
When he finally caught sight of you, everything between the two of you stopped again. But this time the space wasn't watching the tension unfoldâit was glaring.
"You're awake." Steve's voice gave nothing away. You recognized the softness in itâthe gentle tone you associated with Steveâbut you recognized it was a disguise.
You nodded, standing as still as a statue.
"Sleep well?"
You didn't know whether or not to lie. You had already destroyed the way he thought of you by being honest last night.
"No," you admitted, quietly enough it could be mistaken for a breath.
Steve only nodded back, looking down at his hands. "Yeah, me neither."
Everything was burning like a forest fire. Your heart, your body, your eyesâit was all torching before you could say you didn't mean to light the match.
"I'm sorry," you whispered.
You watched as Steve sighed before facing you again. "Come here," he patted the cushion beside him.
You tentatively came to his side, unable to resist his call. Steve watched you as you moved closer, his eyes never once leaving you as you joined him on the couch. But you couldn't return his gazeâyour eyes solely focused on the floor.
âTake these,â Steve handed you the pills that he had left on the table, along with a glass of water. âThey'll help with the hangover.â Steve muttered.
As you drank, you wished that he was cruelerâ that he hadn't been kind enough to make you fall in love with him. That he hadn't let you. It wasn't fairâto make someone fall in love with you if it does nothing more than hurt.Â
"Will you look at me?" Steve's voice broke you out of your prayer.
You cursed inside your head. If only you were strong enough to resist the flute that continuously charmed you into dancing.
You turned to face him, bruised and defeated. Steve's face crumbled into something sadder, something broken. He sighed under his breath, turning away from you now.
"Are you mad at me?" You finally asked, breaking your vow of silence. Steve immediately denied it, shaking his head.
"No, never. I told you that last night." You bowed your head, falling silent again. This was worse than anger; this was brutal disappointmentâsomething you never wanted to see from Steve.
"Are you gonna take it back?"
Your head shot up at his question. Steve was looking at you now.
"What?"
"Are you gonna take it back?" Steve repeated. "Last night, you made me promise you could take it back."
The memory was as fresh as a wound and yet his reminder made the pain cut deeper.
"Steveâ"
âWhy?â he begged. âWhy would you make me promise that?â
âBecause I didn't want this to happenââ
"What, me to ask you if you meant it?" Steve interrupted again.
You scofffed. As if you could've not meant it with your entire being. "Obviously, I meant it, Steve."
"Then why would you want to take it back?"
You shut your eyes, hanging your head. You couldn't tell if your head hurt more from the hangover or the confrontation. This was the last thing you ever wanted. "Well, you're clearly not taking the news well," you pointed out.
Steve went silent. You opened your eyes again to see him looking at you with something that resembled betrayal too much for your comfort. No hangover could numb the shame that pooled behind your eyes.
"I'm leaving, then." Steve shot up from the couchâas if he had just heard his exit line.
"Wait, Steve. No," you took hold of his forearm before he could abandon you again. You didn't want to be a part of this play. You were tired of playing the foolâthe pathetic side character who watched him from afar. "Please, don't leave."
The strain in your voice that only came from the shame of crying caught Steve's attention. You watched as he fought a silent battle with himself, warring between you and himself.
"I'm sorry, okay? Please, Steveâ" Tears broke free from your eyes like prisoners escaping their cells. "I can't lose you. Please."
The blinding blur in your eyes combined with the steel poker in your head kept you from noticing Steve's arms forming around you, holding you close to his chest as you sobbed out broken apologies.
"I'm sorry. I'll take it back, I promiseâ"
Steve shushed you gently, kinder than anyone trying to break your heart should be. "It's okay, just breathe."
You couldn't stop crumbling in front of him. You had taken a wrecking ball to everything that made you feel alive. How else were you supposed to feel?
Steve ran his fingers through his hair, still attempting to soothe you. "Please, sweetheart. You're breaking my heart."
"I'm sorryâ"
"Stop apologizing," he whispered desperately. "I don't want you to be sorry."
You tried to focus on Steve's heartbeat below your ear, a rhythm that was slowly getting stuck in your head.
"I just want to know why..." he confessed.
You pulled back to face him, wiping your face with the cuff of your sleeve. Steve took over for you, gently wiping away your tears. "Please?" He whispered.
The pleading in his eyes melted every wall you had so carefully built around your heart. You knew you couldn't lose him, but you also knew you couldn't lie to him.
"Is it that you're scared of me?"
His question fired at your heart. "No," you shook your head. "Not you."
Steve tilted his head. He wiped your cheek again, breaking your silence. "But you are scared?"
You exhaled before you reached out for Steve's wrist. If you were gonna do this, you were gonna feel his pulse under your skinâjust to prove he was there.
"âŠI think about you all the time." You finally confessed. Hungover, teary-eyed, and a mess, but you didn't care. "And I want you... So much that it scares me, 'cause I know I won't be able to handle you telling me you don't want me backâ"
Steve tilted your head to look at you, halting your train of thought. "What makes you think I would say that?"
You wished you could've answered him, but you were still, lips parted and clueless. "BeâBecause we're supposed to be just friends."
"When have I ever looked at you like we're just friends?"
To say you were speechless would be insulting. You weren't yourself anymore. You had changed entirely in a matter of seconds.
Steve just stared at you, as if he expected you to answer any question after flipping your world upside downâsome kind of alternate universe where you weren't you and Steve wasn't Steve.
"LâLast night?" You offered hesitantly, trying your best to come up with something, anything for him.
Steve smiled at you, laughing under his breath. "Sweetheart, you were drunk," he pointed out. "I can't make a move on you when you can barely stand up on your own."
You blinked, rendered completely still. Steve smirked at your silence.
"If you wanted me so badly, you could've just said so, you know." The smugness in his voice made your heart ache.
He was teasing you now. Asshole.
"Steve, it's not funny."
"I'm not trying to be funny." His smirk was gone, replaced by long, pleading eyes that asked you for the world. "IâI don't know how else I can tell you I want you."
"Then why were you trying to leave?" You finally asked.
Steve sighed. Scanning the planes of your face with a reverent smileâsoft in its curveâhe tucked your hair back, handling it like it was precious. Like you were precious.
"I couldn't handle you taking it back," he confessed, "I couldn't accept a confession that you were too scared to commit to."
You were sure the heartbreak Steve had faced because of Nancy Wheeler was resurfacing.
"I don't want you to be scared when it comes to wanting me," Steve whispered, drawing an intimate moment between the two of you. "...And maybe I just wanted to hear you say that you liked me when you weren't drunk off your ass."
Your subsequent laugh brightened Steve's demeanor like sunshine after a storm, casting a beautiful rainbow that lived in his smile.
Your cheeks felt tight as you grinned, ducking your head. "I like you, Steve."
Steve mirrored your expression, beaming like a dog wagging its tail. "Yeah? You like me?" You caught his smug King Steve persona coming back into play.
You rolled your eyes as he began to smirk. You shoved his shoulder. "Don't make me take it back."
Steve chuckled. "Wouldn't dream of it, baby."
You felt your heart soar in your chest, completely overshadowing your headache.
A squeal escaped you as Steve suddenly picked you up like he had last night, cradling you in his arms.
"Steve! Put me down!"
Steve shook his head, smiling as he walked. "Nope. You and I are going to spend the rest of the day in bed while you get over your hangover."
You tilted your head as he entered your room. "Oh, are we now?"
"Yep, we are" Steve declared, setting you down on your bed with a dizzying delicacy. He stood upright. "I'm gonna go find some clothes to change into."
You tilted your head, brows furrowing in confusion. "Why? Is there a dress code I didn't know about?" You teased, making Steve roll his eyes playfully.
"No," he shook his head at you, scrunching his nose, "I didn't want to get into your bed with outside clothes on."
Your heart warmed. He really was the most thoughtful man you could ever ask for. You caught his wrist before he could leave, eyes hooded as you looked up at him.
"You don't have to get changed to do that..." Steve's breath caught at the low tone of your voice, intention clear.
"Sweetheart, Iâ"
"Please?" You whispered, almost pouting. You may not have been able to call Steve yours before, but that didn't mean you didn't fantasize about him night and dayâenough to know just how to get your way with him.
The tension in his shoulders melted away as he caved. "Fine, but just my shirt and pants, okay?" You beamed up at him, nodding eagerly.
Steve shrugged off his clothes, unable to contain his smile as you watched him excitedly. Facing you with that pretty smile you saw in everything, he joined you under the covers carefully. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you as close as two people could ever get.
You had been through a lot in your life. Heartbreak, love, lossâbut nothing could have ever prepared you for the feeling of Steve Harrington's skin on yours. If your heart wasn't already racing at the speed of light, you might've died on the spot. The warmth he emitted blazed into youâa fire only he could ignite.
The moment felt like a dream. You could have been easily convinced you died of rejection last night and were transitioning into a painful death, being shown the life you lost. But the pain in your skull was enough to assure you of your consciousness. This was real, just like last night at the bar, the universe had finally acted in your favor, granting you the life you begged for where Steve Harrington was yours, to want, to need, to love.
You couldn't be happier next to himâstaring at him like he hung the stars you wished upon for this very moment.
"I love you," you blurted out to Steve, catching the both of you off guard.
But Steve didn't freeze like last night. Not even a second passed before his face broke out into the most lovestruck smileâone you had never seen directed in your direction.
"I love you, too," Steve confessed, without an ounce of hesitation. He leaned closer, nudging your nose with his. "Always have, always will."
Your eyes widened before you found your eyebrows furrowing on instinct.
"Reallyâ?"
Steve wasted no time bringing his lips to yours, capturing all of the insecurity that lived on your tongue. His kiss robbed you of your breath, as if he would rather you stop breathing than live in a world where you doubted his love for you.
You attempted to chase his lips as he pulled away to meet your eyes.
"I promise."
And for once in your life, with your lips returning to their rightful home, you believed someone wanted you to love them.
Steveâs afraid to hurt you. You just have to ease him into you it.
contents: steve harrington x reader; reader with a vagina and breasts; newly established relationship; boyfriend!steve; just the tip trope!!!; mentions of painful intercourse; reader is referred to as a good girl once!; hung!steve <3; sorta size queen reader <3
minors, do not interact!!
authorâs note: short n sweet lil thing for u⊠hope you enjoy <3
âCan I be honest?â you murmur against Steveâs lips.
Heâs half dressed under you, and youâre nearly nude on top of him. The bed dips under your knees as you sit prettily on his lap, your underwear turning translucent with each kiss you exchange.
Steveâs fingers adjust on your plush hips. Heâs on Cloud Nine, hardly even listening. âHm?â
You laugh a little, pulling back just a smidge. Steveâs eyes are unfocused as he opens them slowly to look at you.
âYouâre much more patient than I thought youâd be.â
He grins lazily. âYeah?â
âYeah. Think youâre a little too patient, maybe.â
He blinks, eyes still cloudy, love-struck and drunk on you. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
You sigh, then lean in again. âNothing,â you whisper, catching his lips in yours.
Steve doesnât push it, though he makes a mental note for later. Heâs a little too worked up to think clearly right now, anyway. You grind down on his pelvis, swallowing a moan that he canât hold back. Youâre patient with him as he redirects you to his thigh, and you placate him by riding it for a while.
Steveâs so kind, pressing kisses along the column of your neck. âTake what you need, honey.â
You pause. âYou mean it?â
His tongue darts out to taste the salt on your skin. âMhm.â
Gently, slowly, you pull his cock out of his underwear. Itâs a shock that he even lets you.
Hereâs the thing: Steve knows youâre going to break in two whenever he finally gets himself inside of you, and heâs simply not in the game of doing so. In fact, heâs always sort of diverting your attention to any part of him that isnât his dick.
Youâve become intimately familiar with his hands, his fingers, his lips, his tongue. And heâs returned the favor â explored you all over with precision, not a spot left untouched, not a trick unlearned. He studies you, commits you to memory. He murmurs that heâs taking his time with you, that heâs in no rush.
You canât really say the same. Youâve been with him, officially, for just over two months. Heâs given you at least forty orgasms, and heâs let you give him zero in return.
Personally, you donât think itâs very fair.
Steveâs whimpering as you stroke him, biting his lip and doing everything in his power to not bust just from a fucking hand job. Itâs the first time heâs let you give him any attention, and itâs pushing him into hyper-gear. His whole body feels aflame, each tendon straining against the pleasure that every fiber of his being wants. Heâs lost in you, his eyes drifting shut as you take care of him.
You manage to knock Steve out of his stupor by suddenly swiping the tip of him through your petal-soft folds. He gasps, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You both moan, ragged and rough, and it takes all of Steveâs self restraint to redirect your hips again. He opens his mouth to scold you, but you beat him to it.
âJesus Christ, Steve, please?â
Your tone makes his cock pulse in your hand. Sweat beads at his hairline, his cheeks pink as he tries to steady his breath.
âUh-uh,â he says. Calm. Measured. âBaby, you know I ââ
âThe tip, then,â you plead. âJust the tip, Steve, I swear. I know I can take it. Need it so bad.â
Your hand strokes him again and he moans, teeth piercing his lip.
âI ââ
You press your lips against the shell of his ear and lower your voice just a tad.
âSteve, I can be so good for you if youâd just let me.â
His mouth falls open. His fingers flex against your hips. âBut â you are so good for me.â
âWell, let me be good-er.â
He rolls his eyes, exhaling a laugh through his nose. âGot you that worked up, huh?â
You hum, kissing down his jaw. âImagine how stupid Iâll go when you finally fuck me.â
Now it clicks.
âIs that what you meant when you said Iâm too patient?â
You return to pumping him slowly, and he swallows hard.
âMhm. Your worst quality.â
Steve forces himself to get serious. He tilts your chin up with the bridge of his nose, making you look at him, while one of his big hands covers yours to stop your movements.
âI donât want to hurt you.â
Youâre so serious. âItâs going to hurt. And thatâs okay.â
He frowns and cups your jaw, shaking his head a little. âNo, itâs not.â
He sees that youâre getting shy, looking away from him. It takes you a moment to find your words.
âI want to be shaped by you. I want you to make it a perfect fit.â
Somehow, itâs all at once the most blasphemous and romantic thing Steveâs ever heard.
Heâs stunned by it, in fact.
âIâm sorry,â you start, but Steve cuts you off.
âThe â the tip? Only?â
You smile. It endears him. âI can settle for that. I just â I want you.â
Steve shivers. Youâve positively rewired his brain chemistry with a singular phrase.
You can hardly take two fingers while he preps you for it over the next twenty minutes. Praising you, always so kind and gentle with you as he works you through it.
âTaking it so good, angel⊠thatâs my girl, yeah?â
He eventually fishes a condom out of his nightstand. You boost his ego, watching with wide, blown pupils as he rolls it on.
âItâs pretty,â you mumble.
âPretty?â
You move to straddle him again, the head of him knocking into your clit. You jolt, and Steveâs cock kicks.
âYes, Steve. Youâre very pretty.â
He nuzzles his nose against yours and presses another gentle kiss to your lips. âYouâre prettier.â
âStop stalling.â
He runs his hands up your thighs and settles them on your hips again. He takes a deep breath.
âRelax for me, baby.â
By the time Steveâs popped inside of you, youâre both sweating, moaning, gripping onto each other tightly as you pant into each otherâs mouths. Your hot, wet cunt strangles the tip of him, begs him to go in deeper.
âFeels so good.â His voice cracks from the exertion of keeping his hips still. âYouâre so gâ goddamn beautiful.â
You clench around him even tighter. He lets out a strangled yelp, burying his head into the apex of your neck and shoulder. He busies himself with sucking a hickey into your skin, savoring the taste of you and trying to stave off the overwhelming need to shove every last inch of himself inside of you.
And then â cruelly â you sink down further.
Steveâs eyes and head roll back immediately. His thighs shake, a needy, desperate sound finding his way past his kiss bitten lips.
âHoney â honey ââ
âCanât stop myself,â you whimper, rocking gently, managing another half-inch. âYou feel so good, Steve.â
His eyes rake down your chest, doing a double-take at your tits before setting his eyes lower. The evidence of your struggle is clear, and Steve hates what the sight does to him. Youâre so stretched out around him. He knows it hurts, yet youâre a mess between the legs, even soaking the part of him thatâs not inside of you with honey-sweet arousal.
âHoly shit,â he mumbles.
You take advantage of his gaze to lean back in his lap, giving him a better view. Slowly, almost meanly, you fuck yourself on his tip.
Steve doesnât know where to look. Your thighs and stomach quiver with each movement. Thereâs a wet sucking noise each time he pops out and pops back in. Your eyes roll, your back arching, tits sitting prettily at eye level.
âGorgeous,â he moans breathlessly. One hand snakes between your legs, pressing his thumb to your clit, trying to soothe the pain. âLook so fuckinâ good like this ââ
âI know,â you moan, pussy tightening from the praise. The ghost of a smile sits at the corner of your lips, all smug.
âDonât get cute,â he groans, his hands moving to grip your ass. âStill just the tip, babe.â
You lean forward, pressing your dewy forehead against his. âHelp me take the rest, then.â
Just the thought makes his cock throb, and you wince at it. Still, though, you keep moving, gently taking as much as you can â hardly over an inch â and pulling needy noises out of Steve.
âFâ fuck â n-next time,â he pants, strangled moans interrupting him. âNext time, I promise ââ
Your hand moves downward, gently wrapping around the rest of his shaft. Steve cries out, his body shaking, his hips accidentally jutting upwards.
âShit!â you breathe, your movements stammering.
Steveâs heart shatters.
âHey, hey, hey,â he coos, lifting you off of him. He tenderly cups your pussy with his hand, the warmth soothing it. âIâm so sorry, honey. Letâs stop, yeah?â
You shake your head adamantly, huffing at him.
âSteve Harrington,â you pant, settling yourself over his cock again, âI am making you come tonight, and so help me God, it better be from my pussy.â
His eyes widen and his cock kicks again as you slowly sit down on him. He simply nods, too turned on to speak and even a little breathless. You have him so whipped for you.
âYouâre perfect,â he strains.
You kiss the tip of his nose. âLetâs make sure of it.â
summary: After coming off a date with a bad review, Steve sets out to prove that he really is good at going down on girls.
tags: MDNI!! [roommates/friends to lovers] [smut] [oral fem receiving] [mutual pining] [he just needs an honest review] [friends help each other...right?] 2k words
a/n: While brainstorming this fic, I couldn't decide whether I wanted it to be fluffy or smutty, so I had you guys vote. And you wanted me to write both. (Here is the fluffy sister fic if you want to read it!)
It is your deepest held belief that Friday nights are, indeed, best spent in.Â
Youâre on the couch, curled up with a book, basking in the soft lamplight as steam from your favorite tea reflects in the dark windows beside you.Â
All is peaceful. All is quiet. Itâs perfect.Â
And then your apartment door opens.Â
You jump, looking over your shoulder just in time to see your roommate, Steve, storm through the entryway. His dress shirt is untucked, tie loose, and his hair is a wreck, like heâs run his hands through it a million times.
Thatâs not a good sign for a man supposed to be on a fancy date tonight.Â
He said, if things went well, heâd probably end up back at her place for the night. You thought that might be a little presumptuous, but hey, itâs Steve Harrington youâre talking about here.Â
Steve looks around wildly, and when his eyes land on you, the intensity in them takes you aback.Â
âIâm guessing things didnât go well, thenâ?â you start, but he cuts you off, his words overlapping yours.Â
âTake off your pants.â
You freeze.Â
What theâ
He must not register the utter shock on your face, because heâs already moving towards you. The silky tie snaps through the air as he rips it from his neck. God, he must really be wound up. He didnât even take his shoes off at the door.Â
âExcuse me?â You manage to choke out.Â
âDonât freak out, I just really need to try something,â he grunts, rounding the couch. âJust for a second.â
The moment his knees hit the carpet in front of you, your jaw goes slack. Â
âHarrington!â You scramble back into your mountain of pillows, nearly knocking your mug off the side table. You reach out and steady it with one hand, suddenly very aware of how your tank top has ridden up with the movement. âWhat the hell are youâ?â
ââŠcanât believe she said that,â he mutters, ripping back the blanket thrown over your lap.Â
âWho said what?â
He doesnât respond, eyes locked on your short sleep shorts. Theyâre a cute set you picked up recently at the mall. Navy blue with white flowers. Innocent-looking. Sweet.Â
But heâs staring at them like heâs going to rip them off with his teeth.Â
Heat rushes to your cheeks.Â
While you canât deny what that look is doing to you, thereâs something else trapped in his gaze. Sadness? Not quite. Disappointment, maybe? Youâve only been roommates for six months, but you already know him well enough to know when heâs upset.Â
Reaching down, you grab a fistful of his hair and tip his head back. His eyes snap to yours.Â
âWhat did she say?â you ask again, firmer this time.Â
Steveâs lips form a thin line before he sighs heavily. You drop his hair.Â
âShe said I was bad at sex. Specifically, bad at...this.â He gestures unhelpfully between your legs and your stomach swoops as his finger almost brushes the seam of your shorts.Â
It takes you a second, but then your brows pull together. âShe actually said that?â
âNot exactly,â he groans. âThe date was fine. It was our third, so when she invited me upstairs, I figuredâŠwell, you know. And then we got to making out and it was hot. I guessâŠâ
You swallow hard and gesture for him to continue, even if the thought of his lips trailing down some other girlâs neck feels like a knife in your side.Â
âAnd then I went down on her and she saidââ He cuts himself off with a miserable little huff before resuming. âShe said it wasnât doing anything for her. At all. Like it wasnât good enough or something. Can you believe that? I couldâve lived if she said my thrust game needed work or something, if we had even gotten to that point, but this? This is, like, my thing.â
Oh. Okay.Â
Yeah, you couldâve gone the rest of your lease without knowing that eating pussy is your hot roommateâs thing.Â
That is not good for your little crush you have going on that you refuse to talk about. Or think about. Ever.Â
You nod quickly and clear your throat. âS-so, what exactly does this have to do with me?âÂ
Steve just shrugs. âWeâre friends, right?â
âRight.â
âRight.â He levels your gaze, brown eyes soft and playful in the lamplight. âSoâŠâ
The moment stretches between you, an invitation, an ask, and a dare all rolled into one.Â
âSo, because weâre such good friends, we justâŠgive each other oral sex?â
Steve sighs. âLook. I just want a second opinion, okay? I mean, this is bad. Really bad. If Cindy didnât like it, then what if other girls didnât either? Then Iâve just been lied to all this timeââ
Your gaze drops to his fingers digging into the couch cushion beneath you, and despite yourself, a smile creeps across your lips. âOh my God, this really got to you, didnât it?âÂ
âWhat?â He balks. âNo! Itâs justâŠI need to set the record straight.â He taps your knees with a knuckle, playful but firm. âSpread âem.â
You bark an unbelieving laugh that ends in a sound too close to a whimper when his hands come down on your thighs.Â
You cannot let him do this to you. If you do, youâll never be able to get over your secret-no-good-very-bad-crush on your roommate.Â
You force yourself to breathe. âIâŠI donât want thinks to get weird.â
 His eyes flick up to yours. âWeird?â
âBetween us.â
Steve seems to take a second to understand what youâre saying, and you watch as an emotion you canât place crosses his face.Â
Suddenly, he moves to stand. âYouâre right. Sorry. God, Iâm an idiot. What am I thinking, I justââ
Panic spikes and you snatch his wrist before you even really know what youâre doing, cutting him off. âNo, wait. Itâs like you said. WeâreâŠfriends, right?â
He nods quickly. Too quickly. âYeah.â
âSo, we donât let it get weird.â The words spill out of you before you can take them back. But you donât want to. âIâll give you an unbiased review. A one time thing.â
You watch as his lashes drop again to your legs, and his pupils widen as your knees fall apart a little on instinct.Â
âYouâre sure?â he asks, voice thick.Â
In an effort to appear nonchalant, you shrug. But youâre salivating when his tongue darts over his bottom lip.Â
 âYes,â you breathe.Â
He doesnât waste a second dropping back down to his knees, and your legs widen immediately to give him space.Â
âSo, youâll tell me the truth, right?â he rasps, eyes jumping between your face and your hips. âBe honest. I can take it.â
âHonest,â you agree, but the word comes out in a whisper as his fingers slip under your waistband.Â
Your face burns as he pulls down your shorts and panties in one smooth motion, baring you to him. His hands gently ease your thighs farther apart, and you fight the urge to squirm under his gaze.Â
âSteve! Stop looking at it like that,â you gasp.
âWhy?â he asks without glancing up. âItâs pretty.â
Shit.Â
Youâre not strong enough for this.Â
But when he finally looks up, you recognize the silent question in his eyes. Heâs asking for permission. You could stop this right now, and he would let you easily. Heâs probably never even bring it up again. No harm done.Â
And you should.Â
God, you should.Â
But you donât want to.Â
So instead, you just nod, not trusting your voice to speak.Â
As he leans in, you brace for the feeling of his tongue, but youâre surprised when he starts by justâŠkissing you.Â
His lips are soft against your folds, and your breath catches at the tenderness there. His eyes find yours before he goes lower, and the moment his nose bumps your clit, your body jolts in his hold.Â
He makes a muffled sound and his eyes drift shut, large palms moving to your hips, pinning them to the cloth couch beneath you.
 Then thereâs that wet heat.Â
His tongue slides over you with just enough pressure, starting slow and exploring your entrance.Â
âOh, God,â you whimper.Â
His hair is so soft against your inner thighs, and when he makes a sound of encouragement against you, and his tongue swirls higher, catching the underside of your clit, your mouth drops open in a silent moan.Â
Heâs hardly done anything yet, but the way heâs doing it, so confident, and steady, itâs unlike anything youâve ever felt before.
âSee? Good, right?â he mutters, the words muffled and slick against your core. âI know what Iâmâmmm, fuck, you taste good.â
Before you can respond, his hands wrap up and around your thighs, and he hauls you closer. Your tank top rides up even higher as you slide down into the cushions, but you donât reach up to fix it.Â
Mostly because Steve Harrington is going down on you, and that thought alone is nearly making you lose your fucking mind.Â
His lashes flutter shut as he makes out with your dripping cunt, his throat bobbing as sucks gently, swallows, and goes back for more.Â
Youâre surprised to find thereâs no performance to his actions, but more of a genuine enjoyment.Â
Steve eats pussy like he wants to.Â
You watch, transfixed, and you canât help but roll your hips once against his mouth, smearing your slick all over his pretty fucking face.Â
Too pretty for his own good.
A sound escapes his chest, something caught between a moan and a whine, and he nods against you, peeking up from beneath his lashes.Â
The carpet whispers as rises higher on his knees, mouth traveling up your mound and over the soft, sensitive skin below your belly button.Â
But you whimper at the loss, pushing his head back down.Â
His throat vibrates against you with a chuckle, but he follows you obediently. âOh, yeah? So definitely doing something for you then.â
âShut up,â you groan, but the sound dies out harshly when his mouth latches to your clit and sucks.Â
Hard.Â
You gasp, back arching as your core clenches instinctively.Â
Then, without warning, he pulls back.Â
You look at each other, chests heaving. Suddenly, youâre afraid heâs done. That you now have to give a report based on that.Â
âIs that it?â You squeak.Â
âWhat? God, you think I would just leave you like that? No, I was just thinkingââ He draws in a breath, like he needs to physically rearrange his thoughts. âWell, I havenât even kissed you yet.â
You just stare down at him, chest heaving, bare and slick from the waist down.Â
He takes one look at your face and clears his throat. âRight. Later.â He leans in again, but pauses before glancing up at you one more time. âYes?â
âYes, Harrington, I will kiss you, later,â you whine pitifully, canting your hips into his hands.Â
He seems pleased, and wastes no time picking up where he left off.Â
And this time, he doesnât tease you.Â
Your head hips back, a moan tearing from your throat as two of his fingers spear deep inside and his mouth closes over your clit.
As you threaten to fall apart beneath him, Steve just watches.Â
Every little whine and whimper. Every jerk and arch of your back. Every wriggle of your hips and curl of your toes.Â
He studies you like a map, surveying everything that makes you soak his face, everything that makes you clench hard around his fingers, his tongue, and finding new routes to all those destinations.Â
The tension between your hips pulls tighter, and when he reaches up to palm your breast, slipping his hand underneath your tank top, you wonder if he can feel it.Â
The way your heart slams against your ribs.Â
A silent, helpless confession. A call for him to see that this will not, in fact, be a one-time thing.Â
That youâve been thinking about thisâabout himâever since the day you moved in.Â
That ache builds like a tidal wave, threatening to break, and your fingers fly to his arms for stability. Heâs warm, and strong, and his muscles shift under his dress shirt.Â
Itâs honestly impressive how quickly he responds, how easily he reads every subconscious signal your body gives him. Because when that breathy, urgent whine starts to leave your lips, his thumb replaces his mouth on your clit, rubbing firm, perfect circles that drive you higher. And then he dips lower, tonguing your entrance, devouring you in thick, broad strokes, pushing you to the fucking brink.Â
âYeah, you gonna come for me?â He slurs against your aching cunt. âJust like that. Thatâs it. Iâve got youâmmhmââ
The second his tongue spears deep inside, the tidal wave breaks.Â
Your moan fills your quiet apartment, and you nearly come off the couch with the intensity of it. The rush is unlike anything youâve felt before. You have no option but to surrender fully to it as it pulls you under, shamelessly riding your orgasm out on Steveâs tongue.
Steveâs ready for it though. He goes with you easily as your hips rise and fall, strong hands holding you to his mouth, unwilling to let you slide away.Â
When the pulsing eventually fades to shuttering jolts, he pulls back, but his hands stay on your hips, caressing you softly, bringing you back down to earth.Â
You bite your lip, looking down at him panting between your knees. Your body aches, but in a good way. Like you need more, but somehow, it still wonât ever be enough.Â
âGod, Steveââ you whine, but youâre cut off by him lunging up across your body and pressing his lips to yours.Â
You laugh into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue as he kisses you eagerly.Â
âYou have no idea how long Iâve been waiting to do that.â He murmurs, pulling back a little.
Something catches in your chest at his confession, and you thread your fingers through his hair, pulling him back down for another kiss.Â
This one is different.Â
Deeper, and softer, andâŠmeaningful.Â
He sinks back down onto his knees, squeezing your thigh, your waist, like youâre something precious.Â
âSo, tell me , honestly, was it good?â He urged, gazing up at you.
You blink dumbly, throughly flushed. âYeah, uhâŠno notes.â
He smirks. âYeah, thatâs what I thought. Five out of five stars.â
âI donât know, Harrington. That literally means no room for improvement.â Youâre not sure his ego is ready for that.Â
âOh?â His lips tilt in a crooked smile that makes you want to kiss him again. âWhat would you have me do to earn that fifth star, huh?â
His lids go heavy as you tighten your hold on his hair and urge his mouth back down where you want it.Â
âYou could do it again.â
a/n: It's my canon that his date, Cindy, was just hung up on her ex, and Steve was the unlucky rebound that night. Plus, Steve wasn't that into it. Because he was thinking about you, obviously. Also, here is the fluffy version sister fic if you care lol
ᄫᥠdividers by @cursed-carmine| steve masterlist | drop by my desk
