pillow-anon

she/her | i dont write anymore

[teenytinysandwiches]

Newsies 1992 vs. Newsies on Broadway

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

Hey there! Hope you’re doing well! I was hoping you’d do a Tyler Owens anything based off of “wear the hat, ride the cowboy”?

Ofcourse my dear <3. I haven’t written smut in a while, I’m sorry if this looks rusty.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x reader

Word count: 0.9k

CW: 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, smut, f receiving, masturbation? Overstim, cowboy hats. Not proofread.

Calloused hands grip your waist, keeping you steady on his chest, your legs on either side of him. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself from the situation you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Are you-“

“Yes, darlin’, I’m fine with this.”

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your abdomen, lingering before trailing his lips down, and down before he’s met with the plush flesh of your cunt. He places the hat from earlier on your head. You’re in nothing but a shirt of his and the cowboy hat now on your head.

“Take care of that for me?”

And all you can do is nod while his hands shift from your waist to the curve of your ass, pushing you forward, separating your legs just enough so you’re right above his face, your cunt on full display for him. His hot breath sends shivers up your spine as he reaches for your clit, giving it a few licks that has your head spinning.

“Tyler”

He feels the tension leave your body as he eats you out, lapping at your juices like a man starved. His tongue darting in and out of you at a steady pace, your hips pushing into his face as you try not to crush him- he could tell you were holding back from fully sitting on him. So, he brought one his hands down from your hips and down to you entrance, pushing a finger in, slowly then going back in but with two.

That surprises you, letting out an almost pornographic moan at the act. Your hands grab onto the headboard in front of you, hips now pressed flush to Tyler’s mouth. He lets out a groan, feeling you comply let go as your cunt spasms around his thrusting fingers.

“That’s it, baby, jus’ like that,”

Your name falls off his lips as he worships the most intimate parts of your body, swallowing you whole and leaving you with nothing but shaking legs and a numb brain. His name repeats in your head, all you can feel is him. In your bones, in your blood, in you.

He’s no better than you right now, palming his cock through his boxers, the hard on leaking on his happy trail, covering the hair in a layer of his pre cum. He’s drunk on you, on the thought of making you fall apart just by his mouth alone, having you ride him.

“Tyler, fuckkk-“ god do you understand what you do him when you say his name like that?

“That’s it, cowboy- fuck- I’m close”

He can tell you’re close, the nickname has his cock twitching as you ride his face, his fingers still at play, his mouth teasing circles at your clit, occasionally bumping into his nose which makes you let out a small please.

He knows you’re close, and to be honest he is too, he’s barely touched himself but he knows that if he strokes himself even twice and watch you fall apart on his face, he’ll release right then and there.

And he does, a devious suck on your clit and his fingers reaching that one spot in you and you’re spasming, your throat sore but still managing to get out something between a gasp and a moan of his name. White clouds your vision as he drinks up your juices, hearing the squelch of your pussy around his fingers sending you over the edge of your orgasm.

It’s addictive the way you’re blabbering absolute nonsense, feeling the way his tongue flicks just lightly at your entrance and he knows you’re a goner when a second wave comes crashing down on you, the overstimulation making it even harder for you to see, all you can do is feel. Feel him. All over you.

“Jesus, fuck” he curses, you’re making a mess, still not done with your orgasm as your pussy squeezes out more and more into his mouth. He laps it all up though. Chin and neck wet from it as the rest drips down your thighs and onto the mattress.

He gives you a minute, to adjust and realise what just happened. And when you do, you’re looking down at his glistening face, the lower half of his face covered in you.

You’re a bit embarrassed to admit it, but he looks so hot like that, hazy green eyes blown out as he looks at you like you’ve just hung the fucking stars. You feel hear rushing to your cheeks as you look at the mess you’ve made.

“Hey there, cowboy.” Is all you can manage to say, with a sweet smile, your hand reaching down to wipe some of the wetness off his face before he flips you both. The hat now discarded on the other side of the bed. Crawling up to meet your lips with his. He swallow your moan, satisfied with the slightly bittersweet taste of you and his mouth.

You both come apart with a thin string of saliva connecting you, your hands finding their way into his hair, his on your waist.

“Think you can do that again for me, cowgirl?”

A/n; I kinda missed writing smut, but hey! We’re back in business soooo. Let me know what you guys thought of this. Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[chestharrington]

For A Good Time Call! || Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 14.6k

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Phone Sex Hotline Operator!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (phone sex, m & f masturbation (including pillow humping & sex toys), f!receiving oral sex, p in v sex), language, idiots in love, mutual pining, porn WITH plot

Summary: In the Summer of 1985, Steve's social standing is at an all time low. In an act of sheer, pathetic desperation, he calls a phone sex hotline. Little does he know, his dream girl from the hotline is just an escalator away.

Steve Harrington wasn’t the kind of guy who did this. He repeated it in his head as he scribbled down the phone number— fed straight to him from a local late-night advertisement. For a good time call!

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what that meant. And he wasn’t exactly able to ignore the way his dick twitched in his boxers as the commercial showed pretty girls twirling phone lines around manicured fingers, pretty smiles on their faces, eyes sultry and staring right through him. 

Plus, he wasn’t actually going to call. He was just… keeping the number for his records. He’d just put it in his Rolodex and forget about it. 

A week later, and he decidedly hadn’t forgotten about it. In fact, with the house empty and playboys not cutting it, it’s all he could think about. 

For a good time call. He wanted to have a good time. It had been a while since he had a good time— his stupid Scoops Ahoy uniform wasn’t exactly bolstering his natural charm. Robin could say what she wanted, but he was charming and fun and everything people usually want in a boyfriend. He was just… going through a rough patch. 

He retrieved his Rolodex and hurriedly flipped through, trying to remember where he’d hidden the number. Definitely not around his boss. And not around Nancy either. Tucked between Tommy and a past hookup, he found it. 

He set up his pillows behind his back and got comfortable before dialing the number with uncharacteristically sweaty hands. He was cooler than this was all making him seem. He was the playboy of Hawkins High— of Hawkins in general. Phone sex was nothing. 

As he dialed the number, he prepared to turn on his charm. Instead, he was led to a generic call-center script, which, after being carefully followed based on his wants and desires, took him to billing. 

“It’s a flat rate of twenty for your first ten minutes. If you finish before then, it’s still twenty, alright?”

He swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“After that, it’s fifty cents per minute. An hour session will run you about $55.” Oh. It certainly wasn’t cheap. He’d spent less on dates before. “Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah,” he said after a brief pause, his mind taking a while to catch up. “Do you need my credit card?”

By the time billing was over, his anticipation had tangled his stomach into knots. He glanced at the clock, wondering if those ten minutes would fly past him as fast as he thought they would. The line trilled as he waited to be connected to his partner for the night. Jenny. Like the song.

That song was gross, anyway. But how could he say anything about it now?

The ringing stopped, and he could hear the crackle of a quiet line on the other side, the rustle of movement. Did he need to say hi first? Was trying to start a conversation weird?

“Hi,” he said, and he wondered how he could make one word sound so utterly stupid. “Jenny, right?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed. He could picture you so clearly, despite knowing nothing— one of those pretty girls in the commercials, laying on your belly on a frilly pink bed, fingernails and toenails painted a shiny red, twirling the phone cord around your finger. “What should I call you?”

He swallowed. “Do people usually give you fake names?”

“Sometimes,” you replied. “It’s not about what other people do, baby. It’s about what you want. Do you want me to call you by a fake name?”

He wrinkled his nose. What was the worst thing that could come from a stranger knowing his first name? “No, that sounds awful. No offense.” You laughed, and he felt himself relax. “I’m Steve H—“ He cleared his throat. “Just Steve.”

“Well, I’m glad that I get to talk to you tonight Steve,” you said, and just the sultry timbre of your voice made his stomach do flips. “I’m guessing this is your first time?”

He furrowed his brows. “I’m not a virgin.”

“No, baby. I mean it seems like it’s your first time calling a hotline like this.” His face burned hot as he fumbled his way through answering, oh, yeah, I guess that’s right. “So, sweetheart, why don’t you tell me what you want?”

“Uh…” he paused, trying to think of a more polite way of saying to cum while a pretty girl talks to me. “I guess I’ve just been lonely.”

“Poor baby,” you said, and he was shocked that you didn’t have even a hint of amusement or mirth when you said it. “You want me to take care of you? Help you forget?”

His breath caught in his throat, stealing his response. His dick twitched, already half-hard and sensitive. All he could manage was a tiny whimper of, “Mhmm.”

“What do you usually think about when you’re touching yourself?” You asked, and the lack of shame in your voice made heat flare in his cheeks. He’d had some shameless hookups, but most of the girls he slept with didn’t like to talk about it. “Like, what’s your favorite fantasy, Steve?”

It was embarrassing. Mortifying, actually. It was basically the plot of a bad porno or a letter to Penthouse. 

Usually, it started by his pool. And a girl was there, wearing a cute, but ultimately tiny, bikini. The girl didn’t really matter. Well, she did, but it wasn’t about who she was. She could have been a Playmate of the Month, or a movie star, or a girl he was crushing on and wanted to ask out. All that mattered for the sake of the fantasy, was that she was pretty, had nice tits, and wanted him. 

“Does that make me awful?” He asked, pausing mid-description to gauge your perception of him. You laughed on the other end of the line. 

“God, Steve,” you said with thinly veiled amusement. “You think I give a personality and backstory to all of the people I fantasize about fucking?”

It made him feel a little better.

Anyways, there was something about summertime that just made sense to him. Skin all but steaming in the heat, the oiled up glow that came from sweaty skin. Wearing as few clothes as possible so you didn’t overheat. 

You gave a nervous laugh— breathy and sweet— on the other end of the line. “You’re really good at setting the scene, Steve.” He liked to be specific. He wanted to think about tiny details like the salty taste of skin or hair that smelled like chlorine and salt. “What’s next?”

She always started by laying on her stomach, the ties of her bikini undone so she didn’t get unsightly tan lines. She would peer at him over her shoulder with wide, innocent eyes while she asked if he could apply a bit more sunscreen on her back where she couldn’t reach. 

So he straddled her thighs, her skin burning up under his hands as he rubbed in the freezing cold sunscreen. Goosebumps would break out along her arms, and she’d have to arch away from the sensation, pushing her ass against him. 

“Are you hard already?” You asked, and his cheeks burned hot. 

“Like…” He glanced at his lap, where his cock was already straining against the fabric of his boxers. “In the fantasy or right now?”

“Is the answer the same for both?”

He let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“Keep going.”

He was already impatient. Skipped right to the kissing and cut out the context and actions that led to it. Did it matter? The bikini top fell onto the ground, and she was on top of him, tits pressed into his sun-warmed chest, tongue licking into his mouth. 

God, he fucking loved kissing. He’d missed it so much since he’d graduated and his social clout had depleted to fuck all. There had been dates, and messy, slow makeouts in the back of his car since walking the stage, but not one since his first shift at Scoops Ahoy. It was killing him.

She felt so good in his lap— so warm and heavy. He could have stayed like that forever— trapped beneath a pretty girl with her tongue down his throat. But he wanted more— he always wanted more. 

He wanted more then. As he relayed his fantasy to this stranger in painstaking detail, he ached for more. His hand was flat on his tummy, and he shivered as he slipped it beneath the band of his boxers to take his cock into his hand. He groaned, the back of his head knocking against the wall.

“God, you’re cute,” your voice was so pretty. He throbbed in his grip, making him exhale a shuddering breath. “It’s okay, Steve. You can keep touching yourself while you talk to me. I want you to.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, his voice broken by a tiny whimper. “I don’t have to.”

“I’m sure, baby,” you insisted. “What do you do next, hm? I’m on top of you, kissing you nice and slow, grinding my hips against yours because I just can’t help myself. Tell me what you’re going to do to me.”

“I’d—“ He swallows hard, eyes shut tight. “I’d want to taste you.”

In the fantasy, his hands gripped the back of your thighs, moving you up his body so you were just above his mouth. He was suave and sexy. He’d pull the bow at your hip with his teeth so your swim bottoms fell off like they were nothing. 

And it would feel so comfortable beneath you— so natural for him. He’d just barely have to lean forward to have his mouth on you, already wet so he could taste you on his tongue. He’d moan at your taste— he fucking loved the way pussy tasted, even if he got shit for it in the locker room when he admitted it— and pull you down onto his mouth so he could get impossibly closer. 

It would be messy— a mix of spit and slick on his mouth and chin, making the tip of his nose shine. He’d spend as long as he wanted beneath you, pulling every noise he could from your lips, trapped between your thighs. He wouldn’t stop until you came— once at a minimum, more if he was feeling greedy.

“All this attention on little old me,” you teased. “Would you let me take care of you? I could slip off those swim trunks of yours and make you feel good.”

He had set a steady pace— hand gliding up and down his length as his fantasy continued to evolve. “Yeah,” he managed, but his voice came out strangled and desperate. “You’d put your hand down my shorts and tease me. Your hand would feel so good. Warm and soft. You’d, uh, tell me how big I am, how you wanted to feel me stretch your uh— your—.”

“My what, baby?” Your voice dripped with amusement and mirth. “My pussy?”

“Fuck.” It came out with an exhale, his heart hammering.

“You like it when girls say dirty things to you, Steve?” You asked, and he could hear your smirk. “You want me to beg for your cock so deep inside of me that I feel you in my stomach? Or tell you how warm and wet and tight I feel around my fingers?”

Steve groaned, throbbing in his grip as he worked himself faster. “Fuck, are you really?”

“Mhmm,” you replied. “Think about how good I’d feel when you finally let yourself fuck me. You were such a gentleman first, but you don’t have to be with me. I want to make this all about you.”

But he was a gentleman. Of course he wanted to get his dick wet and et cetera, but that wasn’t really why he liked sex. He liked making people feel good all because of him— hearing the pretty noises they made, watching their initial shyness melt away into unabashed desire. 

A lot of the time (most of the time), he felt like a huge fuck-up. Abysmal grades (well, more around average), not good enough for sports scholarships, basically every bit the son that his parents didn’t want to have. Who could really blame him for relishing in the times when he could be good and impressive to someone other than himself?

Whatever. If he thought about that train of thought for more than, like, ten seconds, he’d lose his hard-on and probably start crying into the receiver and spilling all of his life’s worst moments. He really couldn’t imagine anything more pathetic than that. 

So he thought about something else. 

He thought about how he’d lay you down on a beach towel, warmed in the sun, cradled by plush grass beneath it. He’d feel awkward about shucking off his swim trunks— he always hated undressing because it felt so awkward. But you’d look at him like he was the most attractive guy in the whole world. 

He was a sap, what could he say? He would hold your hand too, squeezing it with his as he lined up with your entrance. You’d be so wet that it felt slick and he’d feel proud just knowing he did that to you.

When he finally pushed into you, your eyes would be locked on his, warm with emotion, like the entire world just melted away. And how could he not kiss you? When everything felt so good and your legs were wrapped around his waist and each breath was punctuated by soft, desperate sounds? 

It would feel special. With your foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air. He just wants to be as close to you as possible— needs to feel every inch of your skin, sweaty and sun-warmed, against his. He’d just… bury himself deep inside of you and grind into you. It felt more intimate that way.

He could feel himself getting close. A furrow formed between his brows as he chased his high. Moans broke up his words as he brought himself closer and closer. 

“I’d— fuck— I’d rub your clit. Make you cum before I got there. It’d feel so— so fucking good too. It always feels so good. Oh god. Fuck, I’m close.”

“Go ahead, baby. I want to hear you.”

His entire body shuddered as he came, spilling messily onto his belly and chest. It felt like it lasted forever— that warm, perfect feeling of reaching his peak. He was panting as he came down, stroking himself until overstimulation made him whimper. 

“Fuck… maybe I should pay you for that,” you said after a beat. “Did it feel good, Steve?  Feel a little less lonely?”

“Mhmm,” he replied. He was spent— already feeling languid and heavy. “That was… Really perfect.”

“I’m glad.” You paused again,  and he spent that time trying to catch his breath. “I’m on every night around this time. Like, from around ten to two. I’d like to hear more of your fantasies, maybe even act one out with you, if you’d want that?”

His heart hammered, and he felt incredibly stupid as a blush crept up his neck and cheeks. “Yeah, I’ll call you again soon.”

When you said your good nights, he laid back against his pillows. The dial tone played over the speakers as he stared up at his ceiling, spend cooling on his tummy. Leave it to King Steve to fall for someone he had to pay to talk to.

Your eyelids drooped as you manned the checkout counter at Waldenbooks, one of few stores at the mall that could actually be found vacant during a busy summer day. Last night had been a late one— it didn’t help that you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve, your mystery caller. 

It felt stupid to get hung up on the type of guy who had to call a hotline to get his rocks off, especially when you knew precious little about him. You had his name, his general location, that he had a pool, and he had a nice voice. 

Your bangs lifted as you blew a puff of air out the side of your lips, slowly going insane to the sound of Muzak playing softly through the speakers. 

Steve… Did you know any Steve’s? Steve Crandall got into a motorcycle wreck the year after graduation and died. Then there was Steve Odell who moved off to California on some crazy tech idea he swore was going to change the world. Steven Ferris? He seemed like the type, but there was no way he owned a pool since you were pretty sure he lived in the basement of some old couple’s house. That wiped out your graduating class, at least. 

From your perspective on the second floor, you had a perfect view of the fine piece of ass working the ice cream parlor. He was cute— definitely younger than you by a couple of years— and the stupid costume they had him in surprisingly did it for you. You could watch him mop up spilled sorbet all day and it’d be jerk-off material for the next week. 

  He had nice biceps. And thighs. Fucking hell, the things you’d do to get between those and —

“New releases?” You snap your gaze to the other side of the counter, where a woman with pink lipstick on her teeth looks at you impatiently. 

You plastered on a winning smile and pointed a manicured finger to the other side of the store. “That big shelf on the left-hand wall over there,” you said with saccharine sweetness. “Anything else that I can help you with, ma’am?” 

She frowned and you fought a grin. There was nothing that women pushing forty hated more than being called ma’am. You might as well have been telling them they had a foot in the grave. 

The day passed by with minimal hiccups. You convinced someone to buy your favorite book, so that was a win. And you’d gotten to restock the fun pencils. You clocked out and shrugged off the vest you wore on top of your normal clothes and took your hair down from its ponytail to hang loose on your shoulders. Your perm was kind of killing you. It never sat just how you wanted, almost like it had a mind of its own. 

You made your way out of the mall with a brief glance towards Scoops Ahoy, which was notably missing the hot guy you’d been lusting after since your first day on the job. With a dejected sigh, you escaped the crowded, piercingly loud mall and stepped into the hot summer air. 

Most people (or, more accurately, children) were heading for the busses that would shuttle people back into the town square or their respective neighborhoods, but your car waited for you in the exclusive Employees Only lot in the shade. As you turned to head that way, you bumped straight into a tall, firm figure. 

Huh, you thought. He smells like hot fudge and maraschino cherries. I like those things.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I thought you were headed for the bus like everyone else.”

You looked up, squinting against the sun, and felt heat flood your cheeks when you realized that it was the hot ice cream scooper. “Oh, it’s, uh—“ you stammered nervously. It was never as easy as the phone line. “I was too.” You wanted to hit yourself. What the hell were you even talking about?

His brows furrowed. “You were what?“

Fuck. “I… uh— don’t know,” you finally said, ready for the conversation to end forever. “I’ll see you around.” And you were gone. You almost missed him calling after you.

You will?

But you pretended you’d never heard it. 

——

Steve called at midnight, just as you brewed your second cup of coffee of the night. You took a quick sip as the call was directed your way, already feeling much more awake in anticipation of what lay ahead. 

“Hey, Steve,” you greeted, adjusting your voice to that casual, sexy cadence that you had perfected. “I was thinking about you all day today.”

Steve responded with a dismissive psh. “I’m going to pretend that’s true, because I was thinking of you too,” he said, and you could hear his grin. “I kept screwing up at work because I’d get distracted thinking about you.”

You felt heat creep into your cheeks. “Baby, you’ll make me blush.” You paused, chewing on your lip briefly. “So… what’s in the cards for tonight, Steve? What do you want to do with me?”

He paused so long that you almost thought the call had dropped, but eventually he worked up the nerve to continue. “Well, you heard my fantasy last time. This time I want to hear yours.”

You snorted a laugh. “Steve, baby, that’s so incredibly sweet, but you could hate it, or think it’s boring, and then I’ll feel guilty for wasting your money.”

“I won’t,” he insisted. “C’mon, it’ll help us get to know each other better.”

You exhaled slowly through your nose, your tummy already fluttering with thoughts of the hot sailor shelling out dollar ice cream cones with extra sprinkles on top. 

Fuck. 

“Alright, but if you hate it, you’ve gotta promise me that you’ll tell me to shut up and we’ll do something else.” He hummed in affirmation and you laid back against your pillows, sighing as you closed your eyes and fell into your newfound, perfect little fantasy. 

“So… when I’m not doing sexy phone calls, I work a menial job,” you begin. “And normally, I’d be, like, wearing an ugly polo or vest or something with our logo on it, but for the sake of sexiness, let’s say that I’m wearing a cute little dress and my hair looks, like, perfect.”

“What does your hair look like normally?” Steve asked, hung up on the one detail that was specifically for your sake. God, you wanted to burn your local salon to the ground. 

“Uh,” you paused, wondering if you should tell the truth. “So I told my hairstylist to go for Kelly LeBrock and she… you know… tried. It looks so cute sometimes, and then other times it has a total mind of its own.”

“Oh, Kelly LeBrock! She’s such a babe. I saw the trailer for that movie she’s gonna be in. Total fox. Great hair.”

You tried to fight a smile, but couldn’t. “Do you wanna talk hair routines, or do you want me to keep going?”

Steve paused like he was genuinely considering it. “We’ll come back to the hair. I could probably help you figure it out, you know. I’ve got great hair.”

You smirked. “Oh, yeah? Where?”

“Use your imagination.”

You grinned. Oh, I am.

You were stocking shelves, as usual— except this time you couldn’t reach the top shelf. Standing on your tiptoes, the hemline of your skirt inching up and up and up. And suddenly there was a presence behind you, reaching up to stock the shelf for you. He smelled really nice, felt warm pressed up against your back.

“Am I the handsome stranger in this scenario?”

You said yes, even though you were mostly thinking about your mystery sailor from the mall. God, even the stupid uniform did it for you. Maybe it was the short shorts.

In the fantasy, the two of you didn’t even talk— really, your fantasies were typically pretty straight to the point, unlike Steve’s. The plot and dialogue would get skipped, and then suddenly, your back was pressed against the ridges of the shelves and the handsome stranger was on his knees in front of you, kissing sloppily up your thighs. 

Usually, you’d have some sense of control— keep your hands above the belt. It was better for you that way. It gave you a sense of separation from what was real and what was happening on the phone. And, really, you never really had a particular need to touch yourself while you were handling the calls anyway. 

And yet… Your hand slipped past the elastic hand of your panties, between your thighs where you were already wet and needy from just your own imagination. You gasped into the phone, bucking your hips into your own touch. 

Steve made a choked sound, crackly through the phone’s speakers. He knew exactly what you were doing. 

“Getting all worked up thinking about it, huh?” He asked, and you could hear a slight rustling and movement as he got himself undressed. It was honestly puzzling that it took that long, or that he didn’t call already ready to go. “Sound so pretty.”

You weren’t even aware that you were making a significant amount of noise, but Steve had keyed into it easily, hanging onto every sigh and whimper. 

In your fantasy, his mouth was absolutely fucking sinful. He would moan against your cunt, nuzzling against your clit with his nose as he lapped up your slick. It was sloppy, and the sounds he made could have made the devil himself blush a burning red. His chin and mouth would drip with the combination of your juices and his spit— his fingernails leaving crescents in your thighs from where he held you tight. 

When he looked up at you from between your thighs, his gaze would be equal parts hungry and sweet. He wanted it to feel good for you because the more you get off, the better it felt for him too. When he felt you getting closer and closer, he moved his fingertip to your entrance, teasing you with featherlight grazes that gathered your essence. He pressed in, just to his first knuckle, and relished in the way you would clench around him at the smallest intrusion before he gave it to you entirely.

Despite the shitty quality of the phone, which was probably your fault, since you had owned it since at least ‘78, you could hear the slick sounds of him stroking himself to your words. And, for once, you relished in that noise across the line. 

You pushed a finger inside of yourself, then a second. Most guys you’d been with got that far then jammed them in and out at a wrist-killing speed until you faked it. Your thing was always just keeping them still, pressing against the sweet spot just barely a few inches inside. Paired with the dizzying pleasure of attention to your clit, the sensation was electric and all-consuming. 

It felt too good to stop, and yet you knew you needed to make it through your fantasy before you came and that precious euphoria rushed over you. Because after the euphoria came that strange sense of disgust, and you couldn’t really afford to spend the rest of the call grossed out by what you were doing. 

“Fuck, anyways,” you began, your breath coming in short pants. “He— you— would take off your shorts.” Stupid, tiny, tight shorts. “And, fuck, you’d already be so hard and needy. You just wanted me so bad. You would press me against the shelf and when you push into me it’d be so easy and slick and I’d feel so full.”

Your cunt pulsed around your fingers, so close to the edge that you could almost swear you were already over it. The precipice was so nice you almost didn’t mind waiting for it. You would hear Steve fucking his hand, pretty moans and grunts passing his lips as he brought himself closer. It wasn’t really fair to leave either one of you hanging much longer. 

“You’d kiss me. And it would be a little messy, but we wouldn’t care. You’d taste good, and you’d feel good. Fuck, Steve. I need to cum so bad.”

He panted into the phone and you practically mewled. God, he sounded so much better than the gross old men you usually had to deal with. “Fuck, I’m right here with you,” he managed, his voice breathy and desperate. “Let me hear you.”

Your ears rang as you came, making the world go a bit fuzzy. Distantly, you could hear how pretty Steve sounded as he came. Honestly, you’d never been one to relish in that type of thing— most guys you’d hooked up with kind of grossed you out. But, god, you’d give anything to watch him get off. Your chest heaved, rising and falling with a shiny sheen of sweat.

“So…” Steve began, sounding a little more languid and a lot more blissed out. There was a sweet, carefree quality to his voice. “Your fantasy is having sex at work?”

You rolled your eyes and fought a grin. “Hey, I didn’t judge your hot, sweaty poolside fuck session.”

”That was about making love,” He insisted. Your heart stuttered a bit. You had to admit that was sweet. “And I’m not knocking your fantasy— I just can’t even imagine someone wanting to have sex with me in my uniform.”

You grinned. “Aw, you have a uniform? I bet you look really sexy in it.”

He huffed, an annoyed groan escaping his lips. “No, I hate my uniform and I’m counting the days until I can rip it off and throw it in, like, a bonfire.”

“I can help with the ripping it off part, y’know,” you teased. 

“No,” he said firmly. “No, we’re not going there, because, one, I came so much I can’t even think about getting hard again or my dick will hurt, and two, if I start having workplace fantasies about you and my uniform I’ll get hard on the job and end up on a registry somewhere.”

“Alright, alright,” you said with a laugh. “I had fun tonight, Steve. I, uh, don’t really get a lot of people asking what I like. I don’t get anyone asking what I like, actually.”

“Well, what can I say? I’m just a pleaser, I guess.” 

He said his goodnights just before hanging up, promising to call again soon. You didn’t have a clear idea of when soon was. You’d had long-term customers promise a call soon that just dropped off the face of the earth. You laid there listening to the dial tone until it started to hurt your ears, then put the phone back on the receiver.

The bed creaked on its ancient springs as you got up, padding out into the hallway. Outside the big window at the end of the hall, you saw a lamp switch off across the street, making the house go dark. It felt a little comforting to know that boring old Hawkins was awake just like you were. 

In the bathroom, you washed your hands with cotton candy-scented soap and tugged at your misbehaving curls. Maybe you would take up Steve on his hair tips. Before you could think about Steve any longer, your phone rang again. And though part of you wished it would be Steve, you knew that there was such a thing as too soon to be ‘soon.’

There wasn’t really a point in pouting. It was decent money. You answered the phone, put on your fake voice, and got to work. 

Steve called nearly nightly for the next month. If having a backyard school wasn’t proof enough he was loaded, his ability to pay your rates nightly sealed the deal. 

It wasn’t always sexual. Well, to be fair, it was mostly sexual. No matter how much you looked forward to phone sex with Steve, you enjoyed talking to him just as much. You learned about his childhood dog, Walter, and his allegedly prodigy-like swimming skills. He was CPR certified, could say his ABCs in French (and nothing else), and loved the colors red, yellow, and blue.

You told him what you could without giving too much away. That Jenny, obviously, wasn’t your real name. Your favorite color, favorite book, favorite flower. You told him that you were in college, going back in the fall. That you only started doing this gig because textbooks were expensive and you wanted to be able to feed yourself while at school. 

Without meaning to, you started to care about Steve. It was probably stupid, and definitely against everything you thought you stood for. But somehow, he managed to squeeze into the recesses of your brain and set up camp there. Try as you might, you couldn’t get him out of your mind. 

“Alright, little Stevie, that’s your fifth wistful sigh of the day,” Robin said, marking a tally on her palm. It struck him as weird that she was counting, but it wasn’t exactly anything new. “You’ve gotta stop or I might actually start feeling bad for you.”

His chin rested in his hand, and he looked over at her with wide puppy dog eyes. “Can you love someone you’ve never met?”

Robin shrugged. “I dunno. Probably not, why?”

He sighed again, his shoulders sagging. “What if my dream girl isn’t exactly accessible? Like… she’s impossible to find and might not even live in Hawkins. She might live in, like, Indianapolis.”

Robin’s expression— the slight squint of her eyes and downturn to her lips— told him she didn’t particularly care. But the store was dead on a boring Tuesday, so digging into Steve’s life was about the only interesting thing to do on the job. 

“That sucks,” she said slowly. “How do you know this mystery soulmate?”

Steve blanched, picking at his nails as he tried to consider a reasonable excuse. “Uh… Blind setup. Very blind setup.” Robin raised an eyebrow. “I only know her number, nothing else.”

“Name?” Steve shook his head glumly. “Damn. But you think you love this girl?” Steve nodded again, but felt a little dumb. He never did things in half-measures. Never felt things that way either, so it made sense to him, but maybe it was a little crazy. 

He just couldn’t stop thinking about you. He wanted to help you with your bad perm and give you advice about how to take care of it. He wanted to surprise you at your boring job with lunch and flowers. It had been a long time since he’d been this excited about someone. 

A tinny beeping sound made him jolt, nearly slipping on the freshly mopped floor. Finally. He didn’t hesitate to tear off his work shirt, leaving him in the shorts and the white tee shirt he kept beneath it for this very reason— not having to walk out in public in full uniform.

He offered a quick bye to Robin and clocked out as quickly as he could. It had been only a week since Jenny had told him her favorite book, and he’d been saving up tips to pay for a copy at Waldenbooks. 

There was a girl behind the counter with a messy ponytail that had half-fallen-out, music blaring from her headphones. It must’ve been a mixtape because it went from some Hall and Oates song to an older Queen one. A little disjointed, but not in bad taste. She was completely immersed in the novel in her hand, so much so that she didn’t notice his presence.

“Excuse me?” He asked, putting on a winning smile. 

“What?” The girl in front of him blinked in surprise and tugged the headphones down around her neck. The music continued— saxophone and a dance beat. Staying Power. He liked that one. Once she’d paused it abruptly, she looked at him again, and he saw a glint of something in her eyes, like she recognized him.

“I’m looking for this book—“ He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket, where he had scribbled the title down as Jenny told him about it. “Do you know if it’s in stock?”

She looked at the note, then chewed on her lip anxiously. “Mhmm.” She watched him again, like she was expecting something. It took a moment, but it clicked. 

She’s the girl who bumped into him outside a month ago and said weird stuff! “Oh! You were right, I guess. About seeing me around.” He squinted, reading her name tag aloud. 

“Hm?” She blinked a few times, like she was taken out of a daydream. “Oh. Yeah, sorry about all of that. I just had a long day and my brain was fried.”

He nodded. “I get that,” he replied. “Next thing I know I’ll wake up from scooping ice cream in my sleep.” She laughed at that, a smile splitting across her features. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

Her expression faltered, just the tiniest bit. Almost enough that he wouldn’t notice, especially since she corrected it just as quickly. “I’ll go grab that book for you, ‘Kay? Just… stay here.”

She disappeared into the shelves, leaving him standing awkwardly at the counter. The store was oddly empty— he would’ve at least expected some nerdy kids like Dustin to be rooting around. When she returned, she seemed more nervous than before.

“Here, just take it—“ She said, shoving a beat-up-looking copy at him. His brows furrowed as he looked down at the copy in his hands. The cover was bent and torn in places. Corners of pages were dog eared, sticky note tabs stuck out from pages, and he could see glimpses of pen and highlighter. Noticing his confusion, she elaborated. “We’re out, but I had an old copy in my bag. I’ve already read it, so you can borrow it.”

He furrowed his brows. “Is that, like… allowed?”

“Probably!” She said with a startling lack of confidence. She swallowed, giving him an awkward smile. “Just bring it back when you’re done.”

He hesitated. “Uh… okay. Thanks.” He turned to walk away when she called out after him. 

 “Bye, Steve.” 

He wondered why that sounded so familiar. 

Fuck. 

“I mean… what are the odds?” You spoke aloud as you paced your room. When your reflection caught your attention, you felt, and looked, like a madwoman. “It’s not him. It’s not him, and I’m not going to worry about it.”

Five minutes later, you sat up in bed, unable to focus on the book you were reading. It was going to keep bothering you unless you did at least a little digging. But, Jesus, where did you even start with something like this?

“Hey, Rhonda?” You called, popping your head out of your room. “Do you remember any hot underclassmen named Steve from high school?”

Rhonda Finley was the prettiest girl from the class of ‘83. And it wasn’t an exaggeration either, seeing as she was voted Most Beautiful and Miss Hawkins within the same school year. The fact that you were even friends felt like a strange coincidence, but there you both were regardless. 

She carried all of her yearbooks into your room, settling onto the fluffy rug beside your bed. 

“You said his name is Steve?” She asked from her spot on the floor. She flipped through the old yearbook with reverence— pausing to look at photos of herself on other pages. “Steve… stevestevesteve. What about Stephen Cranston? He did the morning announcements, he was decent.”

You glanced at his picture briefly and shook your head. “No, not him,” you replied. “He’s cuter. Uh… boyish is a good word to describe him. Sharp nose and warm eyes.”

Rhonda snorted, flipping another page. “Okay, Shakespeare.” 

You chewed on your lip, watching her tab through until you made a squeak of recognition. The faintest glimpse of a younger Steve in a picture of a home economics class. “Ronnie, flip back,” you said, tapping her shoulder insistently. She did as you said and you pointed. “That’s him. Younger, but it’s him.”

She squinted, reading the small caption. “Sophomore Steve Harrington cooks up trouble in Mrs. Destefano’s Home Ec class!’” She laughed and flipped until she found the sophomore class portraits. “Yep. Steven Harrington.”

You sat back on your heels. “Huh.”

She closed the yearbook and glanced back at you. “I think I went to a pool party of his once,” Ronnie said, brows furrowed as she tried to find the memory. “He was friends with that freckle-y kid that my asshole ex was friends with. God, that was the night when we got into that screaming match and we broke up for like a month before he was begging for another chance.”

Pool party? You felt a knot in your stomach that you weren’t even sure you could have untangled at that point. Was it even possible that your mystery cute phone guy was the unbelievably attractive ice cream scooper at the mall?

No chance. You weren’t that lucky. And yet… maybe a seed of hope took root in your chest. And maybe… maybe you could get him to spill enough details to prove it. 

——

Steve called you around midnight. Your heart leapt into your throat as you answered, thrumming and threatening to burst from nerves. 

“Hey.” His voice was soft, a little tired. “I, uh, thought about you today.”

You could picture him so clearly— his soft hair, long legs, boyish charm. “Hope I wasn’t too distracting. Were you working today? What do you do?” You dug a little deeper with the question, trying to suss out any information you could. 

“Yeah,” he replied with a sigh. “I work in food service at a mall I live near. It’s nothing to write home about, I guess, but it’s temporary until I start applying for the spring semester.”

Okay, so there’s no doubt about it anymore. It was Steve Harrington, the hot ice cream scooper in the sailor suit, who was calling your line every night. The same Steve Harrington who you’d bumped into twice after your shift. 

You tried to push that aside and focus on the reason for the call. 

“So I was a welcome distraction, then?”

He laughed. “I can’t imagine a world where you aren’t.” He paused. “Did you, uh… think about me?”

The hope in his voice made your heart swell. “Of course I thought about you, baby. You’re my favorite caller.” You paused, debating your next move. “I’ve been thinking about getting you all needy and desperate for me all day. About hearing your pretty sounds.”

He fucking whimpered. “I’ve spent the entire night hard just waiting to call you.” You could hear him shuffle around on the other end of the call, presumably stripping off his remaining layers. “Didn’t want to be too desperate and call too fast.”

“Poor baby,” you cooed. “Can you do something for me? It’ll feel so good, I promise.”

“Mhmm.”

“Grab a pillow and lay on your stomach for me,” you instructed. Without hesitation, you could hear the staticky sound of movement on his end as he shifted. “This might sound weird, but—“

“You want me to… to like—“ he stammered nervously. “Hump it?”

You blanched, wondering if your perverse fantasies of the hot mall guy getting off had perhaps pushed him a bit too far. “I mean…. Only if you’re into it. We can do something else.”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, I’ve… I mean— I’ve done it before.”

Oh. Butterflies buzzed around your tummy as you let yourself indulge in the mental image. “Yeah? Did it feel good?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed. You could hear rustling on the phone, like he was trying to situate himself comfortably. “Just made a mess is all.”

Fucking hell. “You gonna make a mess for me tonight, then?” You asked, twirling the phone cord around your finger. He moaned in response, and you grinned. “Aw, did you already get started, sweetheart?”

He moaned out a confirmation and you grinned, letting your free hand trail down your belly and beneath the waistband of your panties. “You already sound so pretty, Steve. So good for me, doing exactly what I say.”

The breathy sounds of his pants and moans made slickness gather between your thighs. Sounded like he hadn’t been lying about being hard and desperate all night just anticipating the call. “We’re not gonna talk tonight, we’re just gonna listen to each other,” you told him. 

Maybe it was unfair to him that you had the perfect mental image of him in your head since you already knew what he looked like. You relished in that knowledge as you coated your fingers in your wetness and rubbed small circles around your clit. 

Steve was loud, which made you wonder if his neighbors hated him. If you had to live next door to Steve Harrington and his pornstar moans, you’d probably go crazy. You were going crazy just from being on the other end of the phone. You were louder than usual too— it was a miracle that Rhonda worked nights.

It wasn’t long before you both finished— gasping and moaning into the phone’s receiver. You sighed as you laid back against your pillows, completely sated and content as you listened to Steve’s shaky breaths. 

“How’re you feeling?” You asked, fighting the desire to twirl your hair around your fingers. 

“Good,” he said finally. “Gonna have to do laundry, wash my sheets. I probably needed to anyway.” He paused. “I picked up a copy of that book you were talking about. It’s actually funny, ‘cause they were out of copies apparently, but the girl behind the counter let me have hers. Like it was meant to be, or something.”

Your heart hammered. “That’s really sweet, Steve,” you said softly. “I’m sorry in advance if you hate it.”

“I won’t!” He insisted. “I read the first couple of pages while I waited to call. I’m not the best reader, though. Might take me a while to finish it, but I do like it so far.”

You were partially convinced that you were in love with Steve Harrington, despite the fact that he wouldn’t even recognize you on the street. “This might be… I mean, maybe it’s crossing a line, and I could totally get fired for even suggesting… but—“ You hesitated. Fuck it. “I want to give you my personal line. So you don’t have to pay to talk to me. It’s not fair if we’re both enjoying the conversations but only one of us is paying, you know?”

He was quiet, almost too quiet. Nerves stirred in your belly. “Is that… you know, okay?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he said quickly. “Let me just grab a pen.”

You couldn’t help but stare longingly down into the atrium of the mall, where Steve Harrington was sweeping crumbs off of one of the booths inside Scoops Ahoy.

“Hello?” A kid snapped his fingers a few times and you swallowed down your annoyance as you turned. “We called earlier about Ender’s Game. The guy on the phone said he’d hold three copies. It’s under Mike.”

You glanced behind you, where the books clearly weren’t. Fuck Greg for making your menial job even worse. “It must’ve slipped his mind. I can grab those for you.” The kid made a bitchy face as you stepped away from the counter and you bit your tongue to keep from saying something rude. Fucking latchkey kids.

When you returned with three copies of the book, you looked at the kids skeptically. “By the way, if you stole any of the pencils or bookmarks, my boss is going to take it out of my paycheck and I won’t be able to feed my kids.”

“It costs thirty cents to feed your kids?”

You sighed and rang them up, but they continued to loiter in the shelves while you pretended to be busy. 

“There’s nothing to do,” one of them said after picking up a copy of Sports Illustrated briefly. “We should just go back to my house and play Atari.”

A red-haired girl rolled her eyes. “Lucas, we’re not playing Pong again.” She paused and glanced down towards the food court. “We could go see Steve.”

It took all your willpower not to react. 

“Why do you always want to go see Steve?” Lucas asked. “It’s not like you have a boyfriend or anything.”

“She just wants to see him because she’s got some weird crush on him,” the bitchy one said. Mike? The red-haired girl blushed nearly as fiery as her hair and shoved Mike hard. “What? We all know it. You and El are always drooling over him. It’s weird.”

“He’s nice, okay? Way nicer than you are, asshole.” She shoved past the group and left on her own, leaving the other two guys to scramble after her. One kid was left behind, the one with the unfortunate bowl cut. He offered a wave before he followed after them. 

When they got downstairs, you watched him greet the redhead with a smile and a ruffle of her hair. Lucas and the bowl-cut kid got a slap on the back, and the bitchy one got a half-smile that wasn’t returned. 

Then he shelled out free ice cream, which was evident because none of them made a move to pay. 

After they left, you watched him reach into his own wallet and cover the cost, placing the bills carefully into the cash register. 

The rest of your shift was spent fawning over Steve and flipping through issues of the magazines you had on display. You felt idiotic gazing at Steve Harrington with puppy dog eyes while reading Top Ten Ways to Know if He’s Really Into You! Of course he wasn’t into you— he didn’t even know who you were, not really. 

Around two in the afternoon, you were snapped out of your reverie by the sight of Steve walking through the threshold of the shop, looking around the shop before his gaze settled on you and lit up in recognition. 

“Hi!” He said, nearly knocking over a carefully displayed unofficial biography of Reagan on his way over. You smiled, straightening your posture as he approached. “I wanted to thank you for the book.”

Your heart thumped. “Oh, you don’t need to thank me,” you insisted. “I just wanted to help.”

He reached into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out two coupons to Scoops Ahoy with a flourish. They advertised free ice cream in the nautical scrawl. “Does this change your mind?” He raised his brows and smiled smugly. 

You rolled your eyes and grabbed them, reading the fine print. Valid only at the Starcourt Mall location on weekdays between 8am and 11am. Offer not valid in conjunction with any other deals. Offer excludes banana splits, sundaes, and the U.S.S. Butterscotch.

“Maybe,” you replied. “Is free ice cream your thing or something? I saw you give that group of kids free sundaes earlier.”

He furrowed his brows, considering it, then grinned. “Are you watching me?”

Fuck. You spluttered, shaking your head as you fumbled through a response. “No. They were here first, then talked about going to see you, and then I just…” He laughed and leaned over the desk slightly, as if testing the view. 

“Oh, yeah. Perfect view from here.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat burning in your cheeks. “So you come here to thank me with shitty coupons, and then you accuse me of spying on you?”

He shook his head as he leaned back. “Hey, it’s not accusing you if it’s true.” He was so smug. “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. See you around?” He looked at you expectantly until you nodded, face burning hot. He smiled, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked out casually like he hadn’t just totally caught you creeping on him. 

God, you were going to make him pay for that later. 

——

Steve paced around his room as he tried to gain the courage to call you. He would have liked to say that he needed to get your number from his Rolodex, but he’d memorized it nearly the moment he put it down on paper. 

He was thinking of you, but he was also thinking about the girl from the mall who seemed to keep popping up. There was something about her, the way he was drawn to her, the way she spoke, the way she looked at him. It was all so familiar and easy, like they’d known each other forever. 

He didn’t know how to feel about that. 

Finally, he settled on his bed, dressed only in a thin white tank top and boxers that were a size too big since he stopped working out as much. With nerves buzzing in his ears, he dialed your number and waited. 

And waited. And waited. He swallowed hard, wondering if you’d given him a fake number just to be rid of him. The number went to the answering machine, and his mouth went dry. 

“Hi! You’ve reached Y/N Y/L/N. I’m out right now, but leave your name and number at the beep and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!” A beep sounded and Steve hung up suddenly. His stomach sank. 

He wasn’t supposed to know your real name like that. It felt like some gross intrusion. And yet, he repeated it over and over again in his mind. Why did it seem so familiar?

On his nightstand, the beat up paperback he had borrowed stood out like a sore thumb. Oh. The book, the same book you, Jenny, had told him about. And the girl who worked there… Y/N. 

It was too much, far too much to be a coincidence. He grabbed the book and opened it to look at the inside cover, where your name, Jenny’s name was scrawled inside. Because you and Jenny were the same person. 

Every single conversation leading up to that point played over in his mind. The messy perm, the shitty job with the ugly polo, the fantasy about being pushed against the shelves and fucked. Oh, God. And you were totally spying on him. 

It should’ve been an absolute win for him, but his stomach turned as he glanced over at the phone on the receiver. You were gorgeous and funny and smart and so sexy. Why would you want to be with someone who needed to call a sex hotline?

He could just picture the look on your face when you discovered that the guy who worked in the stupid uniform at Scoops was so pathetic that he needed to call someone to get attention. 

He swallowed hard, guilt and doubt settling icy in his stomach. He put the book down, and didn’t call back.

——

Steve was sulking during his shift. Probably biting the heads off of a few too many kids who asked for a few too many samples. 

“Jesus, how many times do you need to try cotton candy?” He snapped as he dug out a tiny spoonful of the pink and blue ice cream. The kid furrowed his brows up at him, puzzled by the sudden outburst. 

“Uh, can I try Cherries Jubilee next?” He asked hesitantly. 

Steve exhaled slowly through his nose. “No, you’re done. Out.”

The kid rolled his eyes, swore under his breath, and stomped out of Scoops Ahoy. 

Robin was staring at him funny when he turned around, a mix of curiosity and amusement. “You’re totally PMSing today.”

He couldn’t manage more than a scowl in response. “Shut up.”

Robin laughed and tossed a cherry at him, which he managed to catch before it splattered against the glass of the ice cream case. He hated maraschino cherries— the artificial sweetness and unnatural color. But, hey, he could tie a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue.

He hadn’t called you for three days, which felt like the longest stretch of time in his life. And he hadn’t even seen you around Starcourt, which was both a good thing and absolutely unbearable. 

Part of him wanted to just jump on the escalator and see if you were sitting behind the counter at Waldenbooks, but he knew it was better to just have a clean break. Maybe in a few months, you’d forget about that Steve guy who’d called you and he could make his move then.

The shift change hit around lunchtime, and Steve prepared for the influx of people who were getting off work on empty stomachs. As he suspected, the line stretched out the door and he was practically up to his elbows in ice cream, mindlessly scooping flavor combinations that should’ve been illegal. Until—

“Hey, Steve,” you said, standing in front of him in your ugly work polo with messy hair half-fallen out of your ponytail. “Staying busy?”

He stammered nervously and mumbled out an unintelligible response. “Ice cream?” Was all that he could manage to ask, which made him want to throw himself into the fountain right in the middle of the food court. 

But you just smiled. “A shake, actually. Chocolate banana if that’s possible.” He nodded and got to work, thankful for the distraction. Your eyes followed his every movement as he made your shake, but he couldn’t let himself look at you.

Because if he did really look at you, all he’d be able to think about were the phone calls you’d had— the calls where he’d heard you cum with breathy gasps and pants and soft whimpers. And— Jesus Christ— he was thinking about it and it made him feel dizzy. 

He used a little bit too much whipped cream and put rainbow sprinkles on top for God knows why, but he handed it to you with a weak smile. 

“Three bucks, right?” You asked, nodding to the menu.

“Uh, you can just have it,” he said without even thinking. “On the house.”

You furrowed your brows for a moment,  but smiled brightly. “Really? Thanks, Steve. I appreciate it.” You took a sip and gave a soft moan at the flavor that made a full-body chill run through him. “See you around?”

“Yeah. See you.” You gave a small wave before you disappeared into the food court. He watched you the whole way, like you were the only person in the room.

Fuck. He was hard. Like, rock hard and the stupid apron on the uniform only made it more obvious. He’d fucking pavloved himself to get turned on just by your voice. 

“Robin, I’m taking my fifteen,” he said, darting into the back before she could protest. He stepped inside the walk-in freezer and propped the door with a crate of waffle cones. After about five minutes, he felt like he could actually think again.

“Fuck,” He muttered under his breath. He had to call you again.

You were sincerely considering quitting the hotline. After Steve, just listening to the other guys panting and blowing their loads on the phone was nauseating. They didn’t care to learn more about you, not the way he did. They just wanted to get their rocks off to an anonymous, sexy voice. 

Then again, Steve had disappeared too. Maybe giving him your real number had crossed a line. Maybe it freaked him out that you were taking it beyond a transaction. You sighed and wrapped yourself tighter in your house coat. Rhonda always kept the AC on overdrive in the summer, which meant you needed at least two blankets to be comfortable. 

When the phone rang, you picked it up without thinking, half expecting it to be Rhonda calling you to check in during her break. 

“Hey,” you said absentmindedly, leaning back against your pillows. 

“This is, uh— this is the right number, right? It’s Steve.”

Your heart nearly burst out of your chest at the sound of his voice. “Hey, yeah, it’s the right number,” you assured. You wriggled out of your housecoat and tossed it to the side so you could get more comfortable. “How are you? It’s been a few days.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I, uh,” he paused. “I think I psyched myself out of calling you.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “Well, I’m glad you did call. I really missed you.”

“You did?”

You laughed, letting yourself get more comfortable. “Mhmm,” you replied. “I mean, we’ve been talking everyday for a while, you know?”

“I missed you too, couldn’t stop thinking about you, even at work.” You smiled, remembering how absentminded he had seemed when you showed up in the ice cream parlor. And he was thinking about you. Not you, but still you. “I— uh— had to walk into our deep freezer to cool myself off.”

“How long has it been for you?” You asked suddenly. “Like, since you’ve had sex.”

Steve chuckled nervously. “I dunno… two months?” He paused. “Is that lame?”

“Nuh-uh, baby,” you assured. “Think it’s sweet. No wonder you’re all needy all the time. You need a nice, tight, wet pussy to sink into, hm?”

A low moan escaped his lips. “God—“

“Better than your hand, isn’t it?” You teased. “I bet you’re so desperate that you’ve been touching yourself this whole time, even before you called me. Isn’t that right?”

The closest thing you got in response was another pretty moan. “You’re big too, aren’t you?” You mused aloud, not even waiting for a response. “I know you are, you’ve basically told me in not so many words. Most girls can’t handle that, baby. It’s not your fault. That’s okay, we could take it slow, you could get me all nice and stretched for you, take your time like the gentleman you are.”

“Fuck— fuck—“ His words came out choked and desperate. You could almost picture it— the way he’d be fucking up into his hand, needing more and more.

“I bet you always have to take it real slow, huh? Gotta be careful so you don’t hurt someone. But that just means you can feel everything better, doesn’t it? Inch by inch by inch, every flutter and squeeze. And you can see on their faces how good it feels, can’t you? You can watch their eyes roll back and their mouths fall open while they cry out for you. I mean, Jesus, Steve, I bet most girls come before you’re even all the way inside.”

His hand sped up, desperate and needy, just as you’d said. You could hear it with each wet slap of skin against skin. His moans were constant, a stream of yesahgodfuckohshitahyesahfuckfuckfuck— until the prettiest moan escaped his lips, all low and deep, and you knew he’d made a pretty mess of himself. 

“Bet that felt really nice,” you said while he panted on the other end of the line. 

He made a weak noise, then finally managed a, “Uh-huh. Fuck.”

You laughed softly. “That’s gotta be the fastest I’ve gotten you off,” you said finally. “I like having that much power over you. It turns me on so much.”

He groaned. “Fuck, give me five— no— ten minutes. I can barely breathe right now.”

You grinned, relishing in your ability to torture him a bit after he’d teased you at work. Unknowingly, of course, but still. “I dunno if I can wait that long, Steve… I’m so wet that my thighs are all sticky.”

“God, you’re killing me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatics. “Why don’t you lay there and listen to me? Be good and keep your hands off, alright? You already came, so don’t get greedy.”

He made a nearly pained noise. “Fine. Fine.”

A smirk spread across your lips as you let your hand move between your thighs. Really, you weren’t exaggerating that much— you found yourself slick and needy when you finally slid your panties down your thighs. Actually, you thought you’d probably have to be a statue to hear Steve Harrington panting and cumming over the phone and stay unaffected.

You could hear his breath catch with every soft moan and whimper, and maybe you got mean and held the phone near your tummy, so he could hear just how wet and messy you’d gotten as you steadily fucked yourself with your fingers. When you got desperate enough, you held the phone against your ear once more. 

“I dunno, Steve… I don’t think my fingers can cut it,” you said, exaggerating the pouty tone of your voice. “I wish you were here to take care of me.”

He groaned, low and muffled. You had a feeling he’d thrown an arm over his face. “You’re so unfair.”

A smile spread across your lips at his words. “No, baby. What’s unfair is that I’m laying here all alone, feeling so empty and needy, and you’re not here to make it all better.” You reached into your nightstand, pulling out the dildo you’d bought for your twentieth birthday. “‘S okay, I can take care of myself just fine. You ever been to a sex shop?”

It got quiet on the line, and you could nearly hear the gears turning. 

“N-no.”

You raised a brow. “Really? But you know what they sell, don’t you?” You paused until he hummed a soft uh-huh. “It’s only fair that I get to use a toy to fill myself up since you can’t do it for me, right?”

“Y-yeah, wanna hear you do it.”

You grinned. “Patience, baby. Gotta get it wet first so it glides in nice and easy.”

Blowing a rubber dick wasn’t how you’d envisioned ending your day, but— what can you say?— spontaneity is the spice of life. You made sure he heard every wet pass of it between your lips, every exaggerated gag as you took it into your throat, the messy smack of your lips. It tasted like a tire and dish soap, but the desperate, restrained sounds he was making made it all worth it. 

Your eyes were watery when you finally pulled the toy from your mouth, certain you’d adequately worked him up for the time being. Plus, you were worked up just as much, if not more— you wanted to just fuck yourself into oblivion already. 

Instinctively, your thighs fell farther apart as you moved the toy between your legs. You let the tip tease your entrance, only a little, before you began to push it inside. A soft moan fell from your lips as you finally got the nice, full feeling you’d been dreaming of. 

You laid there for a moment, letting your body adjust to it, reveling in it. With your free hand, you slowly circled your clit until your cunt fluttered around the intrusion. 

“Feels so nice,” you sighed, lips brushing against the mouthpiece of the phone. You felt drunk and hazy with desire. “Like I’m so close already that I can taste it.”

“Make yourself come for me,” he practically begged. “Wanna hear it.”

You moaned at his words, but shook your head. “Can’t yet. I wanna make this last.”

Time felt a little hazy as you kept working the toy in and out, slow and deep. Occasionally, you’d brush against your clit just right, or the toy would find a nice spot inside of you, and your entire body would tremble with need. 

Steve’s breath came in pants over the phone, but you couldn’t tell if he had broken and actually started to touch himself. You kind of hoped he did, even if you wouldn’t say it. 

Eventually, you came without warning— the build-up of it all made it impossible to avoid. Once you started over that edge, you couldn’t crawl back even if you’d wanted to. Moans fell from your lips as you succumbed to your orgasm; every nerve was like a live wire. When it finally came to be too much, you slipped the toy out and relaxed onto your bed with a contented sigh. 

“Are you still alive?” You asked, quiet crackling over the phone. 

“Uh… yeah,” he replied, a little distracted. “Have you ever come without having to touch yourself?”

You laughed softly. “Once. I read in Cosmo that some girls can get off just from playing with their tits. Took a while, but I eventually got there. Why?”

“I just, uh… listening to you, all the noises and hearing how wet you were… I guess that was all it took.” He sounded so embarrassed, but it was the cutest fucking thing you’d ever heard. You could imagine it so clearly, his cock pulsing against his twitching stomach, cum making puddles around his navel. 

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” you said with a smile. “You’re probably exhausted, huh?”

He laughed a bit. “A little, but I can stay up and talk, if you’re free.”

Ever the gentleman, Steve stayed up another hour to talk about whatever you could think of to keep the conversation running. The new collection at The Gap, whether or not he planned to see Back to the Future, his favorite music got him talking for half an hour at least. Finally, you were yawning and beat. 

“Steve, baby, I should go to sleep,” you said, almost apologetically. 

“That’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You froze, brows furrowing. “What?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeated, sleepily. “At the mall.”

“Um… night,” you said quickly, panicking slightly as you hung up the phone.

Steve had mopped the same spot on the floor five times during his shift, all while sparing fleeting glances towards Waldenbooks, where you were immersed in a magazine or a book. Always doing anything but looking down at him. 

Which was good… maybe? He couldn’t quite decide.

He hadn’t been thinking when he said that on the phone. But he was sleepy, and his brain was a little foggy, and then he’d gone and doubled down. 

As soon as he hung up the phone, he remembered that he had given his real name, and you knew he worked in food service, and you knew he wore a stupid uniform. That narrowed it down really easily. 

So he spent his shift in a constant state of dread and panic, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

By the time the mall was closing, he had occupied himself with wiping down tables. He let Robin head home and pulled out his Walkman to keep him company. Since working at Starcourt, he made a pretty sick collection of tapes that wound up in the lost and found. This one was a metal mix, which typically wasn’t his thing, but was growing on him. 

He didn’t realize you were standing over him until you rapped twice on the table, drawing his eyes up, up, up until they were locked with yours. He scrambled to pause the tape and stand up, adjusting his stupid uniform as an embarrassed blush grew on his cheeks. 

“Hi,” you greeted. Your Waldenbooks vest hung loosely on your form, right on top of a pink polo. 

“Hi,” he echoed. It was quiet for a second, as he tried to think of what to say, and as you scrambled for the words you’d been practicing all day. “I’ve known it was you for a while.” The words escaped him before he could stop himself, and then he just stared at you, completely mortified. 

You laughed, covering your face for a moment as heat flooded your cheeks. “You knew? I didn’t even— I mean, I didn’t realize. Because I knew it was you calling. For a while, actually. 

He grinned, leaning forward. “So… the guy you said you wanted to… against the shelves…?” When you ducked your head and looked away, he smiled like the cat who got the cream. “No way. You were totally perving on me, even before!”

“You had to walk into a deep freezer to cool off because you were thinking about me, perv.” He laughed, and you wanted to kiss him so badly it freaked you out a little. “So… What do we do now? I mean, now that you know who I am, and I know who you are, and we’re going to keep running into each other.”

Your poor cuticles were going through the wringer— red and stinging where you picked at them due to nerves. There was nothing you wanted more than for him to just sweep you into his arms like some kind of fairytale and promise his undying devotion. Or just say he wanted to date you. Whichever.

“I could take you on a date,” he said sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. “I mean, if your type is total pervs who spend most of the week in sailor uniforms.”

Oh, you had plans for that sailor uniform. You stepped forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I think you just might be in luck.” He turned his head, just slightly, so he could capture your mouth with his. 

The kiss was sweet, at first. Slow brushes of his lips against yours. They tasted sweet, like he’d been wearing lip smackers or something. Or maybe he’d been sneaking samples of the ice cream. He pulled you closer and you gasped, offering him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moaned softly at the feeling of your tongue licking against his. 

He picked you up easily, sitting you down on the table he should’ve been cleaning. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms around his neck. It was easy to lose yourself in the hungry, desperate way Steve kissed. You could’ve stayed right there in the middle of Scoops making out with him until the mall opened in the morning, and still not have found the motivation to stop. 

A bright light startled you back into reality, shining directly in your faces. You and Steve squinted in the general direction, as Starcourt security stomped your way. 

“Hey! Get the fuck home,” He shouted, with equal amounts of exasperation and annoyance. He clicked off the flashlight and walked away with a huff and an eye roll, leaving you and Steve alone.

Steve’s cheeks were flushed pink with embarrassment as he stepped back, but he still wore a dopey grin on his lips. You hopped off the table and adjusted your skirt with a light laugh. 

“That was nice,” You said as you tucked a loose curl behind your ear. “I should leave you to it, I guess. Before we both end up in mall jail.” 

He shook his head quickly. “No! I mean, you could hang out here until I’m done. I just have a few more tables to clean and chairs to stack, if you want to—” He trailed off, looking at you expectantly. 

A sly grin spread across your features. “What? Are you trying to go home with me or something?” He stammered nervously, that same, cute blush growing on his cheeks. Before he could say anything, you took a step closer and peered up at him. “Because if you are, I might tell you that my roommate works nights at Hawkins General, and we’d have it conveniently all to ourselves.”

He swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to do.”

You sat in the booth nearest to the entrance of the parlor, flipping through a magazine you’d grabbed from work. Occasionally, you’d sneak tiny peeks of Steve bent over a table to wipe it down, uniform stretched tight over his ass, and grin behind the pages. 

He got everything locked up in what he claimed was record time, flashing a smile as he closed up shop behind the two of you.

”Do you work tomorrow?” You asked, as casually as possible as the two of you approached your cars in the employee lot. 

“Yep. Afternoon shift,” he explained.

“I’ll drive you. We’ll carpool tonight.”

The car ride was relatively tame, a few stolen glances at stoplights at most. When you brought him inside the house, your phone was ringing off the hook. You apologized and ushered him into your room, where, true enough, the spare phone you used for the hotline was ringing nonstop. 

“Sorry, let me just…” You grabbed the phone and hung it up once, before taking it off the receiver completely. “There. No interruptions.”

Steve grinned, surveying your room carefully. The set of pom-poms from high school on a shelf, a stack of Cosmopolitan magazines, the chair full of your laundry— fuck, you should’ve definitely taken a moment to speed clean before letting him inside. 

“So… what do you say we pick up where we left off?” You stood on your tiptoes and pecked his lips chastely before guiding him towards your bed. As soon as he sat down, you wasted no time in crawling into his lap and kissing him with all of the pent-up frustration of weeks of phone calls. 

You kissed him for so long you’d have to come up panting for air, before diving right back in. His hands— Jesus, you’d never noticed how big his hands were— were splayed out over your hips at first, but had moved down to grab your ass, encouraging each movement as you rocked against him. 

Without breaking the kiss, you shrugged off your work vest, so it fell into a heap over the side of your bed. He pulled back, chest heaving slightly as he caught his breath. His lips were swollen from use and spit-slick. His eyes moved from the vest on the ground, then back to your eyes. A tiny laugh escaped you before you pulled off your top, then your bra. 

“This still okay?” You asked, as you stood briefly and tugged down your denim skirt. The sound of your voice felt almost foreign in the quiet room, while he took in the sight of you in nothing but a pair of panties.

“God, more than okay,” he assured, before pulling you onto his lap for another heated kiss. This kiss was needier— you could feel it in the hungry way he licked into your mouth, and the feel of him hard beneath you. Tiny gasps pushed past your lips as you rocked against him just right. 

He moved his hands from you only to pull off his work shirt, and the white shirt he wore beneath it. Your hands immediately went to his chest, running through the chest hair he’d hidden beneath the uniform. How the fuck did he manage to walk out of his house without being immediately pounced on by every woman in a five-mile radius?

 He placed one final kiss on your lips before pulling back and meeting your gaze. As earnestly as you’d ever, he asked, “Can I go down on you?”

Yes. Fuck, yes. Oh my god, yes. “Sure, if you want to.”

He smiled wide. “Yeah? Just relax for me, alright?” He shifted the two of you, so you were lying on the bed and he was on top of you. He planted a chaste peck on your nose, and you wrinkled it in reaction. 

You kissed him one, fleetingly, before letting him kiss down your chest and tummy. He parted your thighs and carefully positioned himself between them. You met his gaze and felt your stomach somersault. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the damp fabric of your panties.,

“Fuck,” he mumbled against you. “You’re soaking for me, huh?” And there was that cocky grin you’d seen at the mall before. You had to lie back and put a hand over your eyes, because if you thought about that fucking smug expression for too long, you’d cum untouched. 

He ran his tongue over the fabric of your panties, tasting you through the saturated satin once, twice before he pulled them down your legs. And he fucking moaned like a man starved at the sight of you. 

Heat burned in your cheeks as you felt him spreading you open, and at the slick, wet sounds of your own arousal. “You’re so pretty.” And then his tongue was on you, lapping up your juices, savoring all of you. 

“O-oh, fuck—“ Your moan came out like a sob as his nose brushed against your clit, making your thighs tremble. He moaned against your cunt, nuzzling deeper like he couldn’t get enough. 

In retrospect, he had brought up how much he loved eating pussy a lot on that first call. Your hips bucked slightly, torn between chasing the feeling and overstimulation. His lips would wrap around your clit and suck softly before he would go back to lapping at you, his tongue parting your folds and teasing your entrance. 

“St-Steve!” You cried out, fingers tangling in his hair. The slightest tug on his locks made him moan against you, which made your toes curl. 

Your moans became pitchy and breathless as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. All of your muscles were wound up tight, itching for release. 

All it took was a little bit of eye contact and you were done for. You sobbed out a moan as he lapped up your release— each lap of his tongue sending electricity up your nerves. When he finally relented, you were shaking with aftershocks and giggling. 

“Something funny?” He asked with a grin as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

You sighed and spared a glance over at him. “I’ve been dreaming of that happening since our first call.” He grinned as you pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. 

“Did it meet your expectations?” He asked, swallowing nervously as you shifted to accommodate your hand between the two of you. His eyes fluttered shut as your hand slipped beneath his work shorts and boxers to grasp his cock in your hand. 

You gave a slow, experimental stroke of your hand and nodded. “Two thumbs up.”

He swallowed hard as you removed your hand to completely undress him, leaving you both completely naked. You spit into your hand and wrapped it back around his length, holding eye contact as you jerked him off.

There was something so surreal about the entire situation— having him beneath you, warm and pulsing and slick in your hand. Each time your thumb brushed along the head of his cock, he cried out with the prettiest moan.

“W-wait—“ he said quickly, a look of panic in his eyes. You stilled your hand as he looked at you, a pretty blush painting his cheeks. “I’m not gonna last.”

You bit your to keep from grinning like an idiot. “That’s okay,” you said with a smile. You reached into your bedside table and retrieved a condom. “Do you want to, uh, go all the way?” 

He nodded quickly. “Yes. Yes, please.”

You tore open the packet and rolled the condom on. “How’s that feel? Alright?” He gave a dorky thumbs up, which made you laugh. You leaned down to kiss him once more and wondered if you’d ever get tired of that feeling. 

You reached between the two of you and guided his tip through your folds, coating it in your arousal until you grew too needy and lined him up with your entrance. It was a stretch, even though he’d gotten you plenty worked up with his mouth. You sank down slowly, one hand splayed against his chest to keep you steady as you took in inch after inch. 

The sounds that escaped him as you lowered yourself onto him were so pornographic you thought he should be the one working the hotline instead. Desperate panting moans slipped past his full lips as his hands clawed at your hips.

“Fuck,” he moaned, eyes half-lidded as he watched you. “That’s it. You can take it.”

The mouth on him. You moaned softly as you finally settled onto his lap and he was fully sheathed within you. You stayed still, letting your body adjust to and relish in how full you felt. 

“You look so pretty right now,” he said, reaching up to brush a messy hair from your face. You laughed softly as your cheeks warmed, and a funny fluttering in your chest nearly stole your breath.

“Says you,” was all you could manage to say back. You were hyper-aware of the feeling of him within you, of each flutter of your walls around him.

You gave an experimental roll of your hips and his head fell back, against the pillows, exposing the column of his throat. You relished in the way he looked beneath you— debauched and needy. 

It was easy and slow at first. Each time you moved, you would lower yourself back down slowly, letting him savor the feeling of you, warm and wet and needy. He groaned each time you settled back on his lap, eyes hooded with lust as he looked up at you.

You gave a lazy smile as you looked down at him, moaning each time his cock brushed against your sweet spot. “Can I go a little faster?”

He nodded, eager for whatever you could give him. Your nails raked against his chest as you began to ride him in earnest, the back of your thighs slapping against his as you bounced on his cock. 

Your head fell back as you rubbed at your clit with your free hand. Soft moans spilled from your lips as you relished in the culmination of all of your fantasies. Because he was there, splayed out beneath you like a fucking pornstar, and you had him all to yourself. 

His fingers dug into the plush of your hips as he began meeting your thrusts halfway, fucking into the heaven between your thighs. 

Your eyes rolled back as he fucked himself deeper and deeper, stealing your breath with each thrust. “Close,” you practically squeaked out. Red marks stood out against the freckles skin of his chest where you searched desperately for purchase. 

Steve’s hair was stuck to his forehead, tacky from exertion. “Need you to cum for me,” he managed between pretty moans. “Wanna feel you cumming around me.”

You whimpered at his words, riding him harder as your orgasm hit like a tidal wave. A fucked-out moan escaped you as you collapsed against his chest, hips weakly stuttering as Steve continued fucking up into you. With your pussy gripping him like a vise, he could only manage a few good thrusts before he came with a groan. 

You laid there on top of him as you caught your breath, wearing a stupid, giddy smile as he traced mindless shapes onto your back. His face was buried in your neck, where he left sweet, wet kisses. After a while, you slid off of him and sighed, missing the way it felt when he was still buried inside of you. You did your best to clean yourself off with the towel hanging from your bedpost as Steve tied off the condom and tossed it in the bin. 

“We’re not just…” Steve began once you were both comfortable in your bed. He let the words linger for a moment before he shook his head. “Never mind.”

You turned on your side to face him, adjusting your blankets for a bit of modesty. “We’re not just fucking? That’s what you’re asking, right?” He nodded quietly. “It was nice, but no, that’s not all I want.”

He grinned. “Yeah? You wanna be my girlfriend? I totally pulled a cougar.” His stupid grin made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t keep a matching smile off of yours. 

“You’re so annoying,” you said, not giving him a second to react before your lips were on his again. You pulled back and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. 

In the morning, you woke up in his arms as sunlight crept through the window. You squinted at the sun, then back at him. “Still want me to drive you to work?”

“No way,” he said, muffled against the column of your throat. Soft kisses peppered against your skin, making you giggle and arch into him. “I’m calling in.”

[pillow-anon]

this belongs in the louvre

[parkerslatte]

Songbird || TWO

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.5k

Part Summary: Felicity meets the band The Dunne Brothers.

previous chapter / next chapter

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

•••

TRACK TWO;

HERE WE GO AGAIN

…

INTERVIEWER: How did you meet Y/N?

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: We met Y/N while performing at McNasties. 

KAREN SIRKO: I was looking for some new records and Y/N recommended a few. She had good taste. 

BILLY DUNNE: I remember meeting her when Graham brought her to the house. 

…

“Not performing tonight?” The bartender questioned.

Y/N took a drag from her cigarette, slowly blowing the smoke out, “Not tonight, just here to watch. Why? Miss my voice already?”

The bartender chuckled, “You’re the only one with any talent that performs here.”

“Maybe this new band will be good?” Y/N suggested, “Although I don’t want them to take the crowd away from me.”

“Then let’s hope they’re shit.” The bartender jokes before serving someone down the other end of the bar. 

Y/N turned her attention towards the band that just walked onto the stage. She sipped her drink as they began playing, nodding her head along to the music. Y/N couldn’t deny that they were good, amazing actually. A smile appeared on her face as she listened to their music. 

Getting up from her seat, she manoeuvred through the crowd until she was at the front. Y/N’s eyes scanned over each member of the band, each member of the band was lost in the music. As they finished off their song, Y/N headed back over to the bar.

“They’re really good.” Y/N said to the bartender. 

“They might give you a run for your money.” The bartender teased. Y/N rolled her eyes before taking a sip of her drink. 

While Y/N finishes off her drink, Eddie places his bass down and jumps down from the stage, heading over to the bar. He had noticed Y/N in the crowd and was intrigued by her. As he walked through the bar, a couple of girls tried to stop him but he politely declined them until he was at the bar. 

Y/N turned to her right as someone sat in the seat next to her. Expecting it to be another situation like the night previous, her defences immediately went up. 

“You’re sitting a little close there.” Y/N spoke to Eddie, without so much of a glance at him. 

“Sorry.” Eddie said, shuffling the chair back a little, maintaining a respectable distance. 

Y/N, surprised that he listened to what she said and abided by it, she turned to look at the man surprised. As she turned she was even more surprised, noticing that it was the bass player from the band. 

“You were performing up there.” Y/N said and silently cursed herself at pointing out the obvious. 

“Did you enjoy the show?” Eddie questioned with a smile. 

The smile blew Y/N away. For her entire life, she had never described a man’s smile as beautiful. 

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” Y/N responded, turning her body towards him with a teasing smirk on her face. 

“Yeah? Can you do any better?” Eddie questioned. 

“She’s a great musician,” The bartender cut in, placing a drink down in front of Eddie, “probably the best we have performing here.”

Y/N sent a glare the bartender's way before he left with a laugh. 

“So you perform as well?” Eddie asked.

“I do,” Y/N says, “And I’m fucking great.”

Eddie laughs, “Maybe you could show me sometime.”

“I might be performing tomorrow so if you are around you can see then,” Y/N says, standing up, “See you around.”

Y/N gets up from her seat at the bar, shrugging her jacket on as she walks away. 

“Wait!” Eddie says.

Y/N turns, “Yes?”

“What’s your name?”

“You’ll find out tomorrow.” Y/N says with a wink. She turns to continue her route to the exit however turns back around to face Eddie, “By the way, your band is amazing.”

Eddie watches as Y/N gets lost in the crowd. 

“Who was that?” Warren says, appearing at Eddie’s side.

“I have no idea.” 

…

INTERVIEWER: What were your first impressions of the band?

Y/N L/N: As a band I thought they were great, incredible really. As individuals, well let’s just say that I wasn’t necessarily friendly with everyone. 

…

“Let’s welcome to the stage, you know her and love her, Y/N L/N!” As Y/N’s name was announced she stepped onto the stage with her guitar. Her eyes scanned over the audience, many people she recognised were there and she gave them each a smile. 

However, her eyes landed on a group of people she had only seen for the first time the day previous. Looking away immediately she stepped up to the microphone. 

“For all of you who don’t know me, I’m Y/N L/N and this is my song, Beautiful Dream.” Y/N introduces. 

…

KAREN SIRKO: Y/N’s voice was different. It wasn’t the voice you would expect her to have. It was deep and rich. The kind of voice that reassures you.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: I think I fell in love with the sound of Y/N’s voice that night, I think we all did.

…

As Y/N strummed the final notes on her guitar, the crowd cheered. A smile broke out on her face, she would never get tired of this feeling. 

“Thank you!” Y/N says before getting off stage. 

Y/N placed her guitar down before heading into the crowd. 

“Y/N!” Someone yelled, catching her attention. The girl turned and a smile broke out on her face. 

“Miss Reyne?” Y/N says, a tone of shock evident in her voice. Y/N stepped over to the woman and embraced her. 

“You’re a grown woman now, you do not need to call me Miss Reyne, call me Alice.” Y/N’s former singing teacher scolded her former student.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asked. 

“I’ve heard from some students in my singing class that you were performing here.” Miss Reyne said. 

“Yeah, I have been for a while now,” Y/N says, “I work in the record store down the street.”

“You’re just as amazing as I remember.” Miss Reyne said, causing Y/N to smile.

“I wasn’t always good.” 

“No, but I was the one who helped with that, wasn’t I?” Miss Reyne teased, “When you make it big, I want to be in the front row watching.”

Y/N smiled, Miss Reyne always believed in her, “You’ll be the first one I will call.”

“You better,” Miss Reyne pointed her finger at Y/N, “Now, you have a crowd of adoring fans that are waiting for you.”

Y/N embraced her former teacher once again, “It was so good to see you.”

“Likewise,” Miss Reyne says, “But the next time I see you, you better be on a large stage.”

“I will be.” Y/N promised. 

With one final smile, Miss Reyne pushed through the crowd and out of sight.

…

Y/N L/N: Alice Reyne always believed in me, she believed in me when no one else did. Each performance I dedicate to her. 

…

Y/N didn’t feel like sticking around for much longer after her performance. She was in a good mood seeing Miss Reyne and she didn’t want to put a damper on that dealing with men that didn’t give two shits about her. 

Pushing her way through the crowd until she was outside, Y/N patted her jean pockets.

“Shit.” She muttered under her breath. 

“Here.” A guy next to her offered a cigarette. 

Y/N looked at him and her face changed to one of recognition. 

“Hey, you’re the guitarist in that band aren’t you?” Y/N questioned, taking the cigarette from him gratefully.

He nodded, “Yeah, I’m Graham.”

“I’m Y/N.” She introduced. 

“Yeah I know, we watched you perform, you were great.” Graham said. 

“Thanks,” Y/N says, “Are you performing tonight? I was planning to go home but if you are, I might stick around.”

“No not tonight,” Graham said, “Eddie said that there was another performance happening and convinced us to come.”

“Eddie?” Y/N asked, unsure of the name.

“Oh, he’s the bassist,” Graham said, “You apparently met last night.”

“Oh yeah, him,” Y/N said, “He convinced you to come?”

“Well kind of, he said that it would be a good performance but Warren, the drummer said that ‘this chick is smoking hot’.” Graham chuckles.

“‘Smoking hot’,” Y/N repeated, “I’ll take that. Not the chick part though.”

The two stood in silence for a brief moment before Y/N broke it, “Where’s the rest of the band, I saw them in the audience.”

“Eddie and Warren are inside somewhere, I’m just waiting for Karen.” Graham answered.

“Karen’s the keyboardist right?” 

“Yeah, and she’s amazing at it.” Graham said, quick to give Karen a compliment even if she wasn’t there.

“Yeah, she did seem amazing.” Y/N says. 

“I know, she’s the best keyboardist I know.” Graham says with a smile.

“Do you know many keyboardists?” Y/N asks. 

“Not many but Karen would be the best even if I knew any more.” Graham says, a lovestruck expression on his face. 

Y/N gave Graham a knowing smile, “Well, it was nice to meet you Graham, but I should be getting home. See you around.”

…

Y/N L/N: And see them around I did because a week later I was moving in with them. 

_________________

[luvfae]

okay hear me out, 26 & 1 from the scenario list w/ eddie please 🫶

BED SHARING

1: only one bed

26: x overhearing y has feelings for them

fandom: daisy jones & the six

parings: eddie roundtree x f reader

warnings: swearing, smut, fingering, choking

You didn’t sleep last night. You couldn’t. You were frozen in place, eyes wide open for majority of the night. Eddie, your friend since you were 14 and long term crush, was sleeping right next you. The close proximity made your heart race, you were so full of adrenaline that sleeping was far from your mind.

Eddie had offered his bed to you after you met up with the band in New York and decided to tag along with them. You didn’t think that when Eddie said, “you can sleep in my bed,” he meant right beside him, otherwise you would of found an alternative.

“You’re annoyed that you have to sleep next to Eddie?” Karen’s charming British accent rang through said boy’s ears as he walked past where you and Karen were sat backstage during rehearsals. Eddie came to a halt, hiding close by so he could listen. “Y/N, I thought you were infatuated by him why on Earth would sleeping beside him annoy you?” Karen laughed.

Eddie’s eyes widened at the words, his ears burning red. “Because I was turned on, Karen,” you replied, as if it was obvious. “He was right behind me and there wasn’t a single thing I could do because he clearly doesn’t feel the same way.”

“You don’t know that… you haven’t even asked him!” Karen exclaimed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Y/N, he looks at you like you put the sun in the sky.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Then why hasn’t he made a move?” You asked, standing up from your seat. “It’s fine… only one more night, by the next show Rod will have booked me my own room.”

Later that same night, as you were getting ready for bed, Eddie was pondering his decision. He thought about sleeping on the couch, but it wasn’t even comfortable to sit on let alone sleep on, so he decided against it. You liked him, he had heard you say it and little did you know, Eddie liked you too.

When you entered the room Eddie was already laying down in bed. You considered slipping out of his suite, convincing Karen to kick Graham out of her bed and let you sleep next to her, but Eddie had already spotted you. He was smiling, pulling the blankets back for you.

Your heart raced, laying down next to him, pulling the comforter over your shoulders after turning the lamp that was sat on your bedside table off.

“Goodnight,” you said, rolling over so your back was facing him. Eddie didn’t reply, instead he stared at the back of your head. He had the upper hand, he knew that you liked him back, so what was he waiting for?

Eddie shuffled closer to you, his hand pushing on your hip, forcing you to fall onto your back. You furrowed your eyebrows at him, the faint light from the outside world beaming in through the curtains allowing him to see your facial expressions.

“What’s wrong-“

Before you could finish your sentence Eddie’s lips were on yours. The kiss was hungry, needy, his tongue slipping inside your mouth. You didn’t protest, you let him kiss you, sad once he pulled away.

“I overheard you today,” Eddie said, pressing a sloppy kiss against your jawline and then your neck. “Talking to Karen, about me.” You froze, your skin heating up.

Eddie’s hand slipped under the waist band of your pyjama pants and you gasped, feeling his cold fingers dance along your skin.

“Eddie, what are you doing?” You whispered, afraid to speak any louder, confused as to what was happening right now.

“Shh,” he coo’d, his free hand rubbing your cheek softly. “You should of told me the truth, Y/N,” Eddie said, his fingers pushing your panties aside. “I feel the exact same way about you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he plunged two fingers inside of you without warning. Your fingers gripping the sheets below, mouth opening slightly, staring into his eyes as he smirked down at you.

“If I knew I was turning you on I would of taken care of it last night,” Eddie said, pushing his lips against yours again as his fingers worked their magic inside of you. Your hands moved from their grip around the sheets and tangled through his messy blond hair. “Does this feel okay?” He asked, his tone full of lust.

You nodded your head. “Yes- fuck,” you gulped, your back arching off the bed as he hit that spot. He curled his fingers inside of you, a moan breaking free from your throat, you slapped your hands over your mouth.

Eddie pried your hands away from your face. “Don‘t,” he said, his voice stern. “I want to hear every pretty noise that comes out of your mouth, Y/N. I wanna hear just how good i’m making you feel.”

You let out a shaky breath as he wrapped his free hand around your neck. “You look good like that,” Eddie whispered against your lips. “With my hand wrapped around your neck.”

“Harder,” you whispered, staring up at him, brows furrowed in pleasure.

Eddie‘a face changed, his eyes darkening, his grip around your neck tightening, making you whimper. “Beg for it,” he said.

You gulped. “Please,” you said, but obviously that wasn’t enough. “Please, Eddie,” you moaned, but his pace was steady. “Jesus Christ I need it, please!” You cried.

Eddie smirked down at you. “So needy and desperate,” he said, pushing a third finger inside of you and giving you what you wanted, finger fucking you with so much force it made your eyes squeeze shut. “Eyes open, baby,” Eddie teased. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.”

You stared at him, your face contorting into a look of pure bliss, sinful noises escaping your lips, your fingernails were digging into the skin of his biceps, his hand still around your neck. “You’re gonna make me cum,” you moaned out, hips rolling in time with his fingers.

“Do it,” Eddie said. “Go on, cum for me.”

His words pushed your over the edge, a euphoric feeling washing over you as your lips stuttered and your core spasmed against his fingers, your moans growing whiner and whiner with every passing second. Eddie rode out your high, slowly pulling his fingers away from you, drawing out one final moan from your sweet lips.

You watched him as he brought his glistening fingers to his lips, sucking your juices off as if he had been waiting to taste you.

“Is it clear now that I like you?” Eddie asked, his hands wrapping around your waist, pulling your chest against his.

You smiled, a fuck out look on your face as you pecked at his lips. “Yes,” you sighed, happily.

[pillow-anon]

More eddie roundtree smut is needed in the world

[una-hopeless-romantic1118]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐀 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬?—𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐣𝐚𝐬/𝐑𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬

a/n: by this part, it’s been a few weeks after Y/N and Warren met on the yacht. a little snippet of how karen and y/n met bc they’re platonic soulmates and they’re both badass

timeline: ep. 3 (band is still in hiatus)

here’s the good stuff y’all signed up for :p

Part 1   

This chapter: Part 2   

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5 (in the works!)

Epilogue

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

warnings (of this chapter): sexual tension, warren being horny, reader being horny, smoking, angst, cursing, drinking. 

summary (of this chapter): weeks has passed and Warren still found himself pinning over a stranger, and Y/N, realizing the cost of fame, found herself bound to be lonely for as long she succeeds under the limelight. Will she take a chance at love? Or is her career too much of a blessing that she can’t risk ruining over anything?

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Keep reading

[luvfae]

LEAD SINGERS ARE

OVERRATED

summary: working at the whiskey has it perks and that includes getting railed backstage by a certain bassist in a band.

fandom: daisy jones & the six

parings: eddie roundtree x f reader

warnings: smut, swearing, mention of alcohol, p in v, unprotected sex

Your uniform had been discarded long ago. Rough hands tangled through your hair, swollen lips, your skin hot to the touch. You were in the middle of your shift at The Whisky, but you weren’t the only waitress here who had disappeared to get fucked backstage before.

You had been eye fucking the bassist in this band called The Six ever since he played the first chord on his guitar. He knew it too, he knew it because he was eye fucking you as well, undressing you in his mind.

Once their set was finished, you offered him a free beer and the next thing you knew, you were leading him backstage, knocking over a bunch of shit along the way, too busy trying too undress one another to care.

“What’s your name?” He whispered against your lips. “I’m Eddie.”

“Shut up and fuck me, Eddie,” you smiled, eyes full of lust. Eddie pressed you against the wall, your legs wrapping around his torso.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” He teased, slipping his length inside of you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “C’mon, what’s your name, sweetheart?” Eddie asked again, your hands wrapped around his neck, bouncing yourself up and down on top of him.

“You don’t need to know my name,” you replied, eyes squeezing shut, soft moans escaping your lips. Eddie braced himself, one hand on the wall behind you, the other wrapped around your waist, letting you take control.

“My cock is inside of you, I think I should know your name,” Eddie laughed.

You slapped a hand over his mouth, narrowing your eyes at him, your movements steady, skin slapping against skin. “Y/N,” you finally said, removing your hand from his mouth and replacing it with your lips.

Your tongue ran over his teeth, the both of your fighting for dominance, but you won in the end. Your hands moved from his neck to his cheeks, holding him as close as possible.

Anyone could walk backstage and find the pair of you if they wanted too, but neither of you seemed to care. The only thing you were focused on was your orgasm.

You pressed your forehead against Eddie’s, your movements steady. “Fuck,” Eddie groaned and the sweet sound of his voice alone made you whimper.

“Do you fuck every waitress who gives you free beers?” You asked.

“Do you fuck every bassist in all the bands that perform here?” He asked.

“No,” you replied. “I normally go for the lead singer.”

The mere thought of you ending up in this position with Billy pissed Eddie off to no return. His eyes narrowed, snapping his hips into yours, offering you no mercy. He had you sobbing into his shoulder, making you feel things that you didn’t even know you were capable of feeling.

You felt his lips trail along your jawline and down to your neck, sucking bruises into your skin. The pleasure you were feeling was overwhelming, your nails digging into his bare shoulders, whining and moaning against him.

“Lead singers are overrated, Y/N,” Eddie said, his lips moving away from your neck. Tears brimmed the corners of your eyes, trying to focus on what he was saying but it was so hard when he was making you feel so good.

“I know that now!” You cried out, your legs turning to jelly, pressure building within your core. Your body slumped against Eddie’s, letting him do all the work. “Please… just keep fucking me,” you whispered into his shoulder.

Eddie pushed your back flat against the wall, two hands resting above your head, fucking you relentlessly. So hard that you knew you’d be sore and hobbling by tomorrow.

Your eyes fluttered shut, submerging yourself into the pleasure, soft moans and whines escaping your lips every few seconds, fuelling Eddie to keep going even though his legs were aching.

“I’m gonna make you cum harder than you ever have in your entire life,” Eddie said, his voice low, and sultry. It made you shiver, it brought you even closer to your sweet release, but what really pushed you over the edge was when he pushed his lips forcefully against yours and started fucking into you even harder than he already was.

You cried against his lips, your legs shaking, hips convulsing. Eddie knew it too, you could tell by the way he smirked into the kiss. You opened your eyes, staring up at him, a fucked out look on your face.

“Just a little while longer,” Eddie said. “You can handle it.” Your eyes fluttered shut and he gripped your chin, forcing you to open them. “Keep those pretty eyes on me, sweetheart,” he demanded, making you shiver.

With one last snap of his hips, Eddie’s release washed over him, spilling his seed inside of you, pulling away from you and slowly placing you on the ground. He picked up your uniform for you, followed by your bra and panties.

“Can I take you out on a date?” He asked, also getting dressed himself.

You laughed, “you can’t be serious.”

—

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: And that’s how I met my wife.

Y/N ROUNDTREE: I definitely wasn’t expecting to marry him, but life works in mysterious ways…

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

bad idea, right? | f. odair

masterlist

summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,

notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so… enjoy :)

word count: 4.6k

Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.

Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.

You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.

Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.

“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”

To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.

“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.

The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.

She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”

“Did you get a name?!”

After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.

With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”

Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.

Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.

No. It couldn’t be—

“Finnick.”

********

Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.

Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.

A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.

Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.

Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”

“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”

You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.

“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we’re going to do is talk.”

“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”

“Thanks, mum!”

You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.

Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.

District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.

Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.

Oh, fuck me.

He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.

“Finnick,” you greeted.

“Y/N.”

He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.

Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.

Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.

“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”

You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.

“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”

“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”

Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”

He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”

“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”

Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.

You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?

Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.

But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.

Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.

So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”

He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”

And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”

Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”

You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”

Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.

“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”

Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.

This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”

Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.

“I want you,” he whispered.

You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”

He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.

Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.

A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.

Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”

His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.

“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.

You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.

“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”

Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”

Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.

“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.

He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.

You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.

“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.

Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”

The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”

“That’s right.”

Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.

Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.

And, well, you did.

“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.

“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”

With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.

With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.

The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.

Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.

“Turn around,” he said, and you did.

You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.

Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.

The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.

You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.

Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.

Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.

“Oh god,” you gasped.

The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.

It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.

You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.

Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.

“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.

His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.

“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”

In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.

He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.

“Harder!” you cried.

Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.

His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.

“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”

You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.

He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—

“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”

A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.

You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.

Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.

*********

“Don’t leave again.”

Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.

“Finnick…” you sighed.

“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”

The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was… dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.

Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.

You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.” 

tags: @tayrae515

[pillow-anon]

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO BANGER

[upsidedownwithemmy]

She Drives Me Crazy part two.

CAMP UPSIDE DOWN PART ONE

Steve Harrington x fem!reader[33K] summer camp, broken kayaks, too much tension and that boy you hate. an enemies to lovers camp counsellor story.

She drives me crazy and I can’t help myself.

By week four, you were in need of a break. And when a scheduled day off of yours finally aligned with Robins, you wasted no time in organising some time out of camp. A small trip to another nearby lake, one without yelling kids and sun bleached kayaks. 

The sun was high, the air was warmer than ever and the promise of a day in the water sounded like magic. You wanted green lakes, blue skies and roads lined with trees. You wanted the mountains in front of you and the camp in the distance for a few hours, music that you got to pick, and a bikini that wasn’t uniform regulated. 

You’d packed a cooler, cans of beer that Jonathan had snuck into camp for you both, sandwiches from Bob and you a pile of junk food that would go great with the joint Robin had been tasked from getting from Eddie. 

You didn’t expect your friend to meet you at the staff parking lot with the boy in tow, grin sheepish and her baseball cap jammed backwards on her head. 

“Hey, Munson,” you greeted easily, if not a little confused. You stood by your car, cooler at your feet, looking between the pair. 

Something suspicious was going on and it tugged at your gut. 

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” he smiled, eyeing up your car like it was being evaluated. “Yeah, I don’t think this gonna fit us all, y’know.”

You turned, wide eyed to Robin and she flushed before kicking at a stray rock. 

“Come again?”

Eddie grinned, slapping a hand to your shoulder before gesturing to Robin. “Buckley invited us to join you both. She said music, swimming and food, and I was all, how could I say no to that?”

But you weren’t really listening to much else the boy said, the summer turning warmer around you because all you could focus on, all that seemed to matter was:

“Us?”

But then another bag was being dumped beside yours, the smell of cedar and mint and boy filling the air and you didn’t even bother looking before you were shaking your head at Robin. 

“No.” You stated, deadpan. “No, no way.”

Steve grinned, leaning against your car like he hadn’t a care in the world and he tilted his head towards Robin and Eddie, rolling his eyes as he said, “see?”

It was unfair that he looked good, soft jeans that weren’t as tight as the ones he usually wore, the knees worn and ripped from time. But in the time that you spent observing him, eyes trailing up and down the tall length of him, you didn’t notice how Steve did the same to you. 

Not that it mattered. ‘Cause you went back to glaring at Robin, palm thrown out to gesture at Steve and you didn’t really care that the back of your hand rapped against his chest. 

“Ow,” he muttered. 

You ignored him. 

“Why is he here?“

You didn’t care that it sounded like you were whining, voice petulant if not a little panicked because the idea of spending an entire day at a lake with Steve Harrington filled you with a cacophony of emotions. Your stomach tumbled, twisted, dipped. 

Instead of Robin answering, Eddie raised a hand like he was a kid in a classroom, smiled all soft and warm at you. 

“‘Cause I am.“

You groaned. It was extremely difficult to be mad at Eddie Munson. 

“I need out of this camp just as much as you do, princess,” Steve scoffed, “Henderson keeps going on about someone called Vecna and how he needs a bard.” 

“Well, take your own car!” You grumbled, toeing at the backpack he’d dropped by your feet. It felt heavy, cold with the cans of beer that were shoved inside. “Find another lake, preferably far from ours and deep enough so that no one will be able to find your body.”

“Charming,” Steve snarked, but he was already peering into your car windows, a frown on his face. “Yeah, no, my car needs an oil change and the nearest mechanic doesn’t open ‘til Monday.”

He pulled at your back door, ignoring your squeak of protest and you burned when a cassette or two fell out, followed by one trainer and an empty Gatorade bottle. 

“Jesus Christ, I’m not getting in this.”

You shoved at the boy, your shoulder nudging his until he relented and moved aside, letting you slam the door. You narrowed your eyes at him, annoyance already simmering in your chest, an all too familiar feeling. 

“As if I’d let you,” you huffed, “besides, the seatbelts don’t work in the back.”

“Have I told you recently that your car is a piece of shit?”

You glared at Steve, overly aware that you were once again standing far too close to each other and that you most definitely had an audience. You didn’t really have an argument, you knew your old car was lacking in several areas. Speed, reliability, cleanliness, maybe. 

“Not everyone’s daddy can buy them a shiny BMW, Harrington.”

“Don’t act cute,” Steve tutted, “I bought that car myself.”

You rolled your eyes before pushing away from him, shoulders nudging once more in a final act of defiance. The birds were singing, the morning was bright and you were already far too angry for what should have been considered healthy. 

But then Eddie was clapping his hands together, still grinning wide beside Robin and he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing towards the old van that was parked at a weird angle beside the trees. 

“Guess I’m driving, huh?”

The minute the bags were loaded in the back of Eddie’s van, Robin rushed to the passengers door, hopping into the seat with a grunt and grinning as she hung out the open window. 

“Sorry, lover boy,” she called to Steve, eyes innocent except for the wicked flash of a smirk across her lips. “I get travel sick.”

“That’s a damn lie,” you glared at her, wondering how this morning had gone to shit so quickly. 

The temperature was climbing as the early hours slipped away, the sky turning from pink to lilac, blue around the edges and the sun coming through the canopy trees was brighter and stronger than before. You could hear the kids in the mess hall, the smell of breakfast and the buzz of conversation. 

Eddie stood between you and Steve, far too amused as the back doors of the van sat open, the shag rug carpet and mismatched cushions waiting. Steve looked at you and back into the truck, eyes wary, like he was weighing up his options.  

“I could drive, man,” Steve offered, hands shoved into his pockets and trying to avoid your gaze. 

You scoffed, unsure if you were relieved or offended that he didn’t want to spend the hours drive with you, trapped in the back together. 

Eddie tried to smother the smile he couldn’t help but give him, fist pressed to his mouth and he levelled the other boy with a mirthful stare. 

“Really? I thought you hated driving my van?” 

Steve didn’t know what to say. 

“I mean, you can if you want,” Eddie told him, his voice all caramel soft, he sounded like he was goading Steve when he turned to you, all sticky sweet smiles, “I don’t mind riding with Hawkins here, I’ll keep you right when the road gets bumpy.” He winked and offered his keys to Steve, silver dangling from a ringed finger. 

The only sounds came from the forest. 

Then, a sigh, rough and low, before Steve pushed past Eddie and his outstretched hand, the keys jingling as they went ignored. 

“Doesn’t matter, your clutch is fucked,” Steve clambered into the back of the van, gaze steady on the floor as he threw himself down onto a beanbag, ignoring Robin’s snickering. “It’s annoying as shit.”

Eddie grinned. 

The drive was silent for the most part, at least for the first twenty twenty minutes. The road out of camp took you through the forest, past the river that led to the lake and when the cabins were too far away to see, you finally relaxed. 

Until Robin made a fuss of finding some music that wasn’t Black Sabbath or any other band she’d declared migraine inducing, and finally she held up a cassette with a small noise of triumph. 

“Prince, Eddie? Didn’t peg you as the type,” she told him coyly whilst Steve snorted from the back beside you. 

“Hey now, Prince is perfectly acceptable,” Eddie argued, the tips of his ears turning red under his curls. “I am a man of mixed taste.”

“Sure you are,” Robin placated as she slid the tape into the player.

The roads were becoming less smooth as you neared your destination, favouring smaller, forgotten lanes as you passed the bigger lakes, flashes of blue and green flying past the small window in the back. 

The journey became more bumpy as you all turned off into a track that took you through a part of a forest, the van manoeuvring itself over overgrown roots that interrupted the trail, a too big rock making the truck shake. And as the opening guitar riff of Prince’s ‘Kiss’, started to play, you were sent into Steve’s side, the van bouncing with Eddie’s efforts to get you all to the water's edge. 

You scrambled to right yourself, moving away from the boy as if you’d been stung and the sudden proximity was jarring. You’d managed to spend the majority of the journey on either end of the van, backs pressed to the metal sides and you’d only just moved into the middle so you could lean over the front bench to take a handful of M&M’s from Robin. 

But the jostle of the drive meant that you landed on Steve’s lap, clumsy and in no way meant, but your back was suddenly pressed to his chest and out of instinct, his hands caught your waist before your head could jerk back and slam into his nose. 

‘I just need your body, baby, from dusk 'til dawn…’

“Fuck,” you whispered, desperate to not draw attention to the position the two of you were in, but Robin was snickering and Eddie caught sight of you in the rear view mirror and he let out a low whistle. 

“Christ, kids, at least wait until Robin and I are out.”

“Fuck off,” you and Steve both snarled, voices mixing as you shoved away from each other. 

The rest of the drive went like that, no matter how much you and Steve tried to cling to opposites of the van. The road got rougher as the lake came into view, blue green water meeting bluer skies, the beginnings of mountains and forests lining its edges. 

Your shoulders brushed with Steve’s, hips bumping, hands falling onto tops of hands, pinky fingers grazing as you both tried to stay upright and by the time the van parked up beside a sandy dip in the grass, you were both burning with the exertion of the journey and all the casual touching. 

Steve burst out of the van before anyone else, the engine not even switched off and the back doors brought in fresh air, bright sun and the smell of pine. 

The lake was on the smaller side, no jetty’s to tie a boat to, no long stretches of beach that became home to little kids and their buckets and spades. In fact, the four of you were the only ones there. The silence was dizzying, the views almost too pretty, and it was complete bliss before Eddie jumped out of the driver’s seat and grinned. 

He threw his hands up, his head back, messy curls tumbling as he let out a loud whoop, a noise that bounced off of the cliffs before the forest on the other side of the water swallowed it whole. 

You smiled properly for the first time that morning, Robin on your left, Steve on your right, as you all watched the city boy tear off his shirt, jeans abandoned on the way before leaping into the shallow water. 

The day went like that. 

Genuine happiness from four twenty somethings that were just trying to do enough to get by. You knew your co-workers loved Camp Upside Down as much as you did, it’s why you all returned summer after summer. But there was something different about being able to stretch out along sand, Robin’s head resting on your bare stomach ‘cause you’d pulled your shirt over your head the minute you’d lay down. 

Your unbuttoned shorts showed off the edges of a cherry red bikini, something you weren’t allowed to wear during work. The boys splashed in the lake, the campfire burned and you’d even reluctantly shared your lunch with Steve - half of your sandwich for some of the potato salad he’d managed to scrounge from that day's lunch prep. 

It was the burn of the sun and cool lake water, sand between your toes, stolen towels from camp, the smell of smoke and the taste of lukewarm beer. It was quiet, it was loud, it was the crackle of Eddie’s van stereo flooding out from its open doors, it was power naps with your cheek pressed to your bundled up shirt, watching Eddie throw himself from tree branches, laughing until your stomach hurt and it was not arguing with Steve Harrington. 

Not really. 

Not like before. 

And when Eddie retired to the back of the van to close his eyes and get out of the sun for a bit, Robin swam back to shore and got herself comfortable in the sand, a sketch pad in one hand and a case of pencils at her still wet feet. 

It left you and Steve together in the lake, deep enough that your feet couldn’t touch the bottom and you swam lazy circles around each other, floating on your backs, water lapping at your ears and your chin tilted up to the sun. 

It was nice. It was easy. 

Every now and then, the lake pulled you both closer, bobbing on what little current there was until your outstretched fingertips brushed the boys and you were both startled from whatever daze you’d fallen into. 

Eventually, you couldn’t find it in you to care too much, not when it happened again and again and again. Maybe it was the weed, maybe it was the heat, maybe you were just too lazy. But it’s how you found yourself shoulder to shoulder with Steve, bare legs brushing, skin slick with lake water and leftover sunscreen. 

You kept your eyes closed when you finally spoke, like it would make you braver, like you could keep your words a secret. 

“Why do you hate me?”

There was a pause after you spoke, a dead space in the water between you both and you could feel that Steve had opened his eyes. The water moved, splashed at your cheek and you felt his head turn, his gaze on you. 

“Who said I hate you?”

The tips of his fingers were still brushing yours. 

You laughed and it sounded nervous, a soft noise of embarrassment, like a girl with a crush. You didn’t know how to feel about it. 

“You argue with me about everything, you look like you wanna kill me every time I open my mouth near you and you’re constantly finding new ways to wind me up.” You told him casually, like it was nothing new, like it was normal. And it had been, for as long as you could remember. “I’d say that insinuates an annoyance, at least.”

“That’s awfully presumptuous of you, princess.” Steve smirked, “what if arguing with you was the best part of my day, huh?”

His reply made your eyes flutter open, heavy as if you’d been pulled from sleep, from a dream and the sudden reality of your situation made you dip further into the lake, your legs pulling you down and your feet kicked to keep you afloat. 

Steve mirrored you, easily treading water as the surface swallowed half his face, his eyes impossibly golden as they stared back at you. You were a foot apart, maybe two, and you realised rather quickly that you missed the closeness of him. 

“Don’t lie,” you scoffed but there was something about the way Steve was looking at you that made you feel doubtful. “What’s next, pulling my hair at recess?”

Steve laughed, a genuine burst of amusement from his lips that didn’t sound sarcastic for once. He let himself fall back, the water lapping at his shoulders and he grinned at you, the soles of his feet brushing up against your thighs, just for a second. 

“I dunno,” he looked a little pink around the cheeks, his smile nothing short of scandalous. “Would that do it for you?”

Your mouth fell open. 

This was a fight that you weren’t sure you could win, his teasing words no longer a taunt, the conversation no longer an argument. Steve looked at you with the same fire he always had though, a challenge in his eyes that you desperately wanted to rise to. It wasn’t really a fight, no, not anymore. 

But you still wanted to win. 

“Guess you’ll never know,” you shrugged, smug when Steve grinned wider. 

—————

The drive back to camp was a world away from the journey in the morning. You climbed into the back of the van with Steve without argument, all four of you soft and lazy from a day under the sun, hours treading water, throwing your tired bodies from small rocks and cliffs. 

The sun had warmed the truck, the air smelling like boy and coffee and a little weed, and you were slack as you fell into the cushions, not really caring that your foot was pressed against Steve’s thigh. 

Robin turned the radio on, the tinny crackle of static making the music seem softer and Eddie hummed along as he drove, the trees outside creating dappled shadows across everyone’s sunburnt skin. 

It was nice, it was peaceful. 

Your hair was still damp, your skin smelling like sunscreen and the lake, lemonade and cheap beer on your tongue and you didn’t really care when the rough road out of the forest sent you bumping into Steve’s side again. 

His hand caught your waist to steady you, a wide, warm palm on bare skin because you hadn’t bothered to button your shirt back up, the sides hanging open on your shoulders, the bright red of your bikini a reminder of the day spent in the water. 

Your shared conversation in the lake hung in the air as Eddie drove you all home, the long haired boy and Robin oblivious to it. But it fizzed in the back of the van like a firework waiting to pop, the anticipation of wondering what colours would fill the air when it did. It felt like the slow climb to the top of a rollercoaster, it felt like the night before a storm, it felt like what if?

When you arrived back at camp, dinner was over and the kids were lingering, heads tilted to the sky that was uncharacteristically dark, navy clouds looming overheard with the threat of rain. You’d left the sun behind, hanging over a different lake, along with a different side of yours and Steve’s relationship. 

You didn’t know what to say when the four of you clambered out of Eddie’s van, Robin and the other boy talking happily about music and Robin’s sketches, rucksacks over their shoulders as Steve awkwardly handed you the empty cooler. 

You mumbled a thanks, suddenly shy and you stood at the back of the van, waiting to see if Steve would say something, if you would be brave enough to say anything. 

But then the sky split, the clouds crashed and rain tore down on the camp. 

You all scrambled under the canopy of the trees, yelling swears between laughter and the sound of the kids screeching was drowned out by the rumble of thunder, the on-shift counsellors telling everyone to return to their cabins. 

No one really said goodbye, the rain making you all run to your bunks, the day ending without so much as another shared glance. So you tripped through the trees with your hair plastered to your forehead, laughing when Robin stumbled in mud and shrieked. By the time you both made it home, you were giggling on the porch, skin soaked, shirt and shorts sticking to you and Robin was wide eyed. 

“Wait! I’m going to Vickie’s!” She almost shouted, barely heard over the roar of the rain, the rumble above. 

You laughed, incredulous as you watched her run back out into the downpour. 

“You’re what?!”

“Vickie’s cabin!” She called back, “no one’s gonna care where everyone is when we’re all stuck inside!”

And then she was gone, probably for the night, you assumed. 

That’s why you were surprised when there was a knock on the door fifteen minutes later, the rain still falling, the day turning to night quicker than normal as the clouds stayed heavy, the forest dark. 

Everywhere smelled like damp moss and pine, wet bark and the lingering smoke from the campfire that had long been ruined. You’d only managed to drag a brush through your hair, the strands tangled and partly dry, your shorts uncomfortable on your skin and your shirt hanging off one shoulder. 

You answered the door, not sure who to expect, not sure why Robin would be knocking, why anyone would be out in this weather. 

When you saw Steve standing there, you realised that the boy hadn’t even been an option. Surprise coloured you, mouth falling open at the sight of him on the porch, drenched, shirt sticking to him, almost translucent and his hair a wet riot. 

He was holding a blanket, the soft knitted one you’d taken from your bed to use on the beach that day. It was half soaked from where he’d hidden in under his arm, running through the rain from his cabin to yours. 

You stared, shocked. 

“I think, uh, I think I shoved this in my bag by accident.”

He was yelling over the dim of rain, the world noisy around you both, the forest creating chaos, a whole other kind of fight. It was waiting, it was wondering if you were going to join in. 

“It couldn’t wait?” You cried back, completely bemused by Steve’s decision to come over for nothing more than a stupid blanket. 

But the boy was struggling to respond, shoulders shrugging, cheeks pink and looking a little wild. Thunder grumbled above, the trees swayed and a drop of rain slid down Steve’s cheek, rolling over the curve of his lip. 

“Yeah,” Steve replied, voice too honest, “it probably could’ve, yeah.”

It happened like the storm, the slow roll of electricity over your skin, a building in the atmosphere, something in the air that told you that something big was coming. 

And Steve was still standing there, chest heaving like he couldn’t catch his breath, and neither could you when he was looking at you like that. 

Rain soaked shirt, brown hair sticking to his forehead and falling into his eyes, all flushed cheeks and parted lips. 

“Was that everything?” You asked, voice almost too quiet to be heard over the sound of thunder above, the sky goading you, telling you to say something else.  

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” Steve said and it sounded like a lie, it sounded too sweet. “Maybe? I- I don’t know.” 

You swallowed, chest bursting, heart pounding, ‘cause it felt like you were supposed to be waiting for something more, something spectacular, something that you were supposed to give into a long time ago. And then:

“Christ, fuck it-”

He was crashing into you, arms tugging you into him rather than wrapping around you and you let him, Jesus fucking Christ, you let him, a gasp that sounded like a moan falling from your lips as he kissed you. 

Your hand was fisted in the front of his shirt, the other tugging into his damp hair and the sounds he made against your mouth were obscene. Nothing about this was gentle, nothing about Steve was soft. He was pushing you both backwards, into the cabin and out of the storm with his hands gripping hard on your waist, crescent moon marks left on your skin and it was sinful, it was too good, it wasn’t enough. 

You pulled where he pushed, tugging him into you, the door slamming shut and the rain pounding in the wooden roof. The kiss was messy, heated, another fight you both wanted to win. 

It tasted like the storm, like mint and the woods and Steve, and it said: fuck you, fuck me, I don’t hate you at all. 

It was a kiss that was wildly different to the one you shared at the gym, the one with an audience, a kiss that was supposed to be nothing more than a dare. This kiss was all teeth and tongue, wandering hands that grabbed at exposed skin, pulled and shoved shirts out of the way so you could touch and touch and touch. 

The lack of sun outside made the cabin a little darker, the small light by your bed casting nothing but a weak glow and moody shadows, perfect for hiding feelings in. You pulled Steve into the room, clumsy feet tripping over a shoe or two, the strap of a bag, the blanket that he dropped to the floor in favour of holding you. 

No one spoke, not apart from letting out hushed curses, swears that sounded like prayers, unholy noises that came from the back of your throats, whines and begs that came from years of tension. 

Robin's notebook hit the floor, pencils and pens rolling with it when you stumbled into the desk and Steve grabbed the backs of your thighs, hauling you onto it. He was licking into your mouth with a greed you’d never experienced before, a hand on your cheek, telling you to tilt your head this way and that so he could kiss you deeper, kiss you filthier. 

It was fun to fight back a little, grabbing at the hair at the nape of his neck in return, fisting it in your hand and pulling until he groaned for you, lips faltering against your own and attacking your neck instead. 

Your legs were around his waist and you weren’t sure how it happened. You knew you didn’t mind, you didn’t care, not anymore. Because Steve’s hand was curled around your knee, hiking your leg further up his hip so he could move into the space between your thighs. 

The sounds you were letting out were a little pathetic, small sighs and whines, asking for more without saying the words and all you could do was pull the boy into you and open your mouth for him when he used his thumb to tug at your bottom lip. 

He kissed you like he wanted to argue about it afterwards. 

“Shit,” you gasped, eyes rolling back when he rocked into you, body pressed against yours, all wet clothes and rain damp skin. “Steve.”

The groan that ripped from his chest was absolute sin, lips leaving yours to press his face into your neck, his hands flexing on your hips. 

“Say that again.”

You were confused until you realised that you weren’t sure of the last time you called the boy by his actual name. No Harrington, no wonder boy, no asshole, no douchebag. 

At least, not right now. 

It made your head swim, the hold he had on you, literal and figurative, because for the first time in your life, you did as the boy asked. 

It was a whimper against his ear, mouth moving deliberately against the shell of it, all dirty and coy. Your lips brushed his earlobe, your hand cupped his jaw and you canted your hips into his, just the once. 

“Steve.”

A dam burst and you couldn’t help but appreciate how gorgeous Steve Harrington looked when he lost all the composure he liked to pretend he had. 

“Oh god, holy shit,” he was back on you, all lips and tongue and teeth and hands, “you sound so fuckin’ pretty, so good, fuck.”

You whined in response, a high, keening noise that you didn’t even recognise but you were on fire, burning in all the places that his lips touched. You weren’t gentle with each other, hands grabbing, tugging, getting as close as you possibly could and you needed more, now. 

“Steve…” 

He moaned again, whispered your name back to you like a prayer and god, he was right, it sounded so good coming from his lips like that. 

“What d’you want?” Steve asked, low and rough, his lips on your neck, skating across your pulse. “What d’you need, huh? Tell me.”

You wanted everything, all of it at once. You wanted his lips, his tongue, his mouth, you wanted his hands, you wanted him naked, you wanted him under you, above you, against you. You wanted his noises, you wanted to make him moan, to make him swear, to make him throw his head back and call out your name. 

You wanted him. 

You wanted Steve fucking Harrington. 

Instead you said, “-want more, need more.”

Another groan, a disbelieving sound, one that you shared with him, because Steve was running the flat of his palm across your throat, fingers curling briefly before they splayed out and ran the length of your body. 

They trailed down your chest, down between the thin, red straps of your bikini, between the open sides of your shirt and they landed on the still wet band of your shorts, a finger tapping across the button. 

“D’you want me to touch you?”

Jesus Christ, you couldn’t stand it. You squirmed on the desktop, legs tightening around the boy’s waist to gain some much needed friction but Steve moved his other hand to your thigh, holding you still. 

“C’mon baby, use your words,” Steve murmured. “You’re usually so good at that.”

Baby. 

It shouldn’t have made your heart stutter, it shouldn’t have made you wetter than you already were. But it did, fuck, it did. 

You leaned back, hands on the table and chest heaving, your shirt sliding from your shoulders and your head hitting the wall. You stared at the boy through your lashes, lips parted and glossy from his kisses. 

You looked wrecked and Steve fucking adored it. 

“Touch me,” you wriggled again, hissed when he tightened his hand around the curve of your thigh, a delightful sting on your skin. “Steve.”

He huffed out a laugh then, mixed with a moan, and he smiled at you, sticky sweet. “Say please, princess.”

Absolutely not. 

“In your dreams, Harrington,” you gasped out, a laugh lacing your breath. 

‘Make me,’ is what you meant.  

Steve tsked, grinning. “So stubborn,” he said. 

‘Challenge accepted,’ is what he wanted to say. 

And then you were kissing again, deep, slow passes over each other’s lips, teeth catching, tongues soothing and the boy swallowed every moan and gasp you gave him. His hand found your neck, cupping it to move you the way he wanted, head tilted so he could kiss you even harder. 

Steve kissed like he argued, like it was his favourite hobby, like he wanted to have the last word, steal the breath from your lungs and leave you shaking. 

His fingers tangled in your hair, tugged a little mean when you nipped his lip almost too hard and you surprised even yourself with the sound that left your mouth. 

Steve pulled back from you, just a little, just so his nose brushed against yours and you could see the dark glitter of his eyes. 

“Well, would y’look at that,” he murmured and his voice was tougher than you’d ever heard, sticky honey and a storm, “I guess you do like that.” 

You were reminded of your conversation in the lake and you flushed, hating the smug expression on the boy’s face, hating that you liked it even more. 

Steve was real fucking pretty when he was proving you wrong. 

But you didn’t say anything, didn’t give him the satisfaction of an argument, you just just shoved him backwards, following the way he stumbled until you were pulling him back into you, pushed onto your toes so you could catch his jaw with your hands and press your lips back to his. 

“You’re insufferable,” you told him between kisses, voice too breathy to carry any real heat.

“Yeah?” Steve shot back, grunting a little when you pulled at his shirt, his arms flying up so you could pull it off of him. He stood, shirtless, chest heaving and gazing at you like you were something to eat. “I could say the same about you, sweetheart.”

And then he was turning you, walking you backwards with his mouth on your neck until your body hit the wall and his fingers were back on the button of your shorts. 

He sucked a bruise on your throat, all pretty and sharp, lilac on your skin and he nosed at it, humming thoughtfully. 

“Say please,” he told you again, a finger dipping into the denim, scratching soft against the red edge of your bikini. “Be nice for me, princess, huh?”

It was dizzying, his words. His touch. His breath on the column of your throat, his hair brushing your jaw. 

Another kiss, sweet and soft, jarring in the way he held you to the cabin wall, body hard and solid against your own. His thumbs pressed circles into your hips, soothing and a silent reminder that you could stop this whenever you wanted. 

“If you’re nice to me, I’ll be nice to you.”

It was too sweet a deal to say no to. Especially when Steve was looking at you like that, like he wanted to give you the world, like he’d been waiting an age just to touch you like this. 

So you let out a huff, more whimper than protest and your hands fell to his jeans, damp with rain and tight for other reasons. You cupped a palm over him, hard and thick inside the denim and you were close enough that your lips brushed over Steve’s when you spoke. 

“Please,” you whispered. 

He was popping the button on your shorts before the words left your mouth, groaning and canting his hips into your hand as if he couldn’t help himself, as if this was all suddenly too much. 

You slipped your shirt from your shoulders, the wet smack of it hitting the floor as you both toed off your shoes, a different trainer hitting a different corner of the cabin, patience gone as Steve slid the flat of his palm down the curve of your tummy, fingers reaching into your bikini bottoms to find you slick and ready for him. 

“Oh shit,” you both gasped out together, your hands flying to grip Steve’s shoulders, nails digging into the muscles there as his fingers dragged through your folds, thumb finding your clit, his middle digit easily sliding inside of you. 

“Jesus christ, sweetheart,” Steve groaned, eyes falling shut as he leaned into you, forehead to yours and his free hand pulling at your knee, hitching your leg back to his hip so he could push his finger into you a little easier. 

It was a slow drag, a white hot burn that had you clawing at him, already teetering. It was almost embarrassing, almost. It would have been if Steve wasn’t rutting against your hip, desperate as you were, looking so, so pretty and wrecked. 

“D’you always get this worked up when we argue?” 

You thought he was joking, and you were about to tell him off, the bite of your response on the tip of your tongue, but your body had other ideas. You clenched down on him, involuntarily, hips stuttering at his question and he swore into your mouth, delighted. 

“Fucking hell,” he moaned, another kiss, quick and dirty, “you fuckin’ do, don’t you?”

“Of course you’d run your mouth,” you snarked, but still, you tilted your head back for the boy, just so he could suck another kiss onto your throat. “Why am I not surprised?”

He grinned against you, all teeth and curled his finger into you, hitting a whole other spot. Another hot drag, slipping out of you before he pushed back in again, two fingers moving a little faster, his thumb running circles. 

“Somethin’ tells me you like it,” Steve told you, smug. 

And god you did, you really fucking did. 

You didn’t satisfy the boy with an answer, you just whined, pressing your lips back to his as you chased the high you were desperate for. Steve seemed to catch on pretty quick, surprisingly in tune with the way your body was reacting to him and he curled his fingers in and out of you a little quicker, mouth hovering over yours, noses bumping, panting softly. 

“I’m gonna come,” you told him, your hands buried in his hair. “Steve, fuck!”

His hand that was still gripping your thigh was the only thing holding you up, Steve’s body pinning you to the wall and was smiling, victorious as you tightened around him, your face pressed into the crook of his neck as you came, soft sounds falling from your lips. 

“Aw fuck,” he hissed, “that’s it, there you go princess.”

The boy coaxed you through it, murmuring soft, sweet praises, telling you how pretty you sounded when you came, how good you felt around his fingers. It was too much and it wasn’t enough. And when you shrugged off the hazy warmth of your orgasm, you were quick to move into Steve, lips back on his as he slipped his hand from your shorts and grabbed at your waist.  

You walked him backwards, in charge now, smiling against his mouth when he groaned into you. 

The backs of Steve’s thighs hit your bed and you pressed one more kiss into him, a little mean when you nipped at his bottom lip and then shoved him. There was a satisfaction in watching him fall into your mattress, eyes shocked, lips parted and before he could say anything, you hooked your thumbs into your shorts, pushing the denim down your legs. 

The cherry red bikini was the only thing you had left on, the straps of it slipping down your shoulders, the bottoms cut high on your hips. You waited to feel the rush of insecurity, the self conscious need to shy away and cover up. 

But Steve was staring at you with a slack jaw and flushed cheeks, eyes roaming greedy over bare skin and all the places he could get his mouth on, and that nervous feeling? It never came. 

“Pants off, Harrington,” you told him, voice a little too breathy to sound demanding.

He smirked, pushed onto his elbows so he could tilt his head up to meet your gaze. “Always knew you’d be bossy,” Steve murmured and you warmed at the notion of him thinking about this, about you, like that.  

“I’m not bossy,” you argued, but then you were on him, straddling his lap in a way that made Steve lose his rebuttal, his argument slipping from his lips as his hands found your waist again. 

You pushed him back into your pillows, hands flat on his chest and overwhelming need to make him fall apart like he’d done for you taking over. 

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing, princess,” Steve grinned, tongue caught between his teeth as he gazed up at you through messy hair. 

But his smirk slipped from his hips when you settled over him properly, nails pressed into his bare chest as you rocked your hips a little. Steve groaned, loud and unabashed and you think you kinda adored how loud he was about it. 

His palms kneaded at your hips, a push and pull that told you ‘holy shit, stop’ and ‘fucking hell, do that again.’

Your fingers shook as you popped open the button of his jeans, hands tugging at the waistband, sneaking under his boxers to find him hot and hard for you. Steve sucked a breath through his teeth, looking a little wild underneath you and his hand shook like yours did when he grabbed at your wrist. 

“This is gonna be over way too quick if you keep doin’ that.”

His voice was all rough honey, sweet to your ears, low enough to make your thighs clench around him. 

“D’you have a condom?” you rushed out in a sigh, ‘cause you were desperate now, brows knitted together with impatience and Steve tapped at your hip, silently asking you to shift back. 

You moved, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as he fished his wallet out of his pocket, hands fumbling with the leather until he pulled a silver foil square out of the back.

“Is that-?”

Steve grinned, all teeth and cheekiness, eyes sparkling. “The one Murray threw at us? Yeah.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or shove at the boy for his smugness, so you did both. A huff of breath falling from your lips, a hand pushed to Steve’s chests in a poor attempt at a scolding and then he was pulling you down with a hand around the back of your neck. 

“Were you hoping to get to use it?” You asked, eyes fluttering closed when Steve hooked his fingers under the straps of your bikini. “That’s awfully presumptuous of you, Harrington.”

But Steve just hummed, unphased by your teasing when he had his lips on your collarbone, pressing a line of kiss to your breast. 

“Seemed symbolic, no?” 

And then you were on your back, tucked under the boy with his elbow pressed to the pillow, his other hand trailing up and down your waist, taking in soft skin and new freckles and scars, mapping out the scar on your knee, the bruise you got from helping El do a cartwheel on your hip.

You looked up at him then, time slowing with his movements, all soft hands and softer eyes and oh my god, this was Steve fucking Harrington. You weren't ready to admit what this meant, not yet, you weren’t ready to realise what this was. 

So you reached up between your bodies to tug at his jaw, fingers spread out to tap at his chin, thumb on the plush curve of his bottom lip.

“You gonna kiss me or what?”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he huffed and he tried to look annoyed, he really did but Steve kissed you anyway, heat flooding you both, the rain battering louder on the roof as you pulled at his jeans, pushing them down his hips.

“I- god, shit,” Steve was mumbling, voice cracking at the feel of you under him, against him, body squirming for friction, for him.

You pushed at him, lips still moving against his, giving him all your soft noises, rolling you both until you were on top again, precariously close to the edge of the bunk, sheets rumpled.

“Of course you wanna be on top,” Steve snarked, but he couldn’t hide how his eyes were glassy, how needy his hands were as they tugged at your bikini and you laughed as you raised your arms for him, letting him pull the swimsuit off. 

You’d never felt more powerful when you smiled down at him, saccharine sweet. “Don’t you like it?”

Steve was speechless. Just for a second or two, at least. 

“Yeah, I really fuckin’ do,” and oh, his voice sounded too sweet, a little broken and wild, all husky just for you. 

Everything snapped, the tension, the waiting, the storm outside. The foil packet crinkled as Steve ripped it open and the air fizzed when he rolled it onto himself, tip already leaking at the sight of you waiting for him.

Neither of you had the patience to allow you to move off of him in order to take your bikini bottoms off, neither of you wanted to stop touching for that long. There was a new found desperation when Steve sat up, back against the headboard as you crowded over him, gasping and sighing into the mess of his hair when he pulled your bikini to the side, swiping his fingers through you. 

“So wet,” he whispered, lips pressed to your chest, teeth grazing skin, kisses pushed to every part of you he could reach. “You hear that, babe? How wet y’are for me?”

You were on fire and yes, yes you could. It was obscene in the best way, intense and a little dirty, and you watched in awe when the boy pulled his fingers away from you, sucked them into his mouth instead and soothed your responding whine with a pet to your hip.

“Shit, shit, shit- Steve.”

“I know, I know,” he cooed, voice far too soft and gentle, and Jesus, he was still trying to tease you. “Tell me what you want, yeah?”

But then the charade fell when you sat up and slipped over him, hard tip nudging against you before you blew out a breath, groaning as you took him all.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” he was clawing at you, hands pushing at your hips to make sure you didn’t move just yet, eyes clenched shut as his forehead fell against yours. “Oh good girl, good fucking girl, princess.”

That did it for you, that little gush of praise and it had you clenching around him, making you both moan. You rocked your hips, once, twice, against Steve’s tight hold until eventually he helped you. Strong hands lifted you up and down over him, the slick, hot slide of the boy making you dizzy.

He whispered your name, moaned it, gasped it out on a hot breath that fell across your cheek and you pushed a palm to his jaw, held his chin in your hands to make him look at you and you felt the boy throb as you did it. 

“My name sounds so pretty when you say it,” you murmured, repeating his previous words back to him and he groaned and laughed, hips canting up into yours with a snap.

The bed was moving against the wall, a dull thud, thud, thud that was hidden by rain and thunder, but Steve still grinned when you moaned louder than ever, his hand pushed to your mouth to muffle your sounds.

“So noisy, huh?” That taunting tone was back, the one that made you press yourself down onto him a little harder, deep enough to make him gasp and grab at your waist. “Oh, you’re too sweet, you know that? So pretty - you know just how to get me all wound up, don’t you?”

You moaned, soft and sweet, to pent up to argue back but you moved a little quicker, made Steve’s head fall back, neck taught and fingertips bruising on your thighs as he kept you spread open for him. 

You pulled away from his hand, breath hitching as he twitched inside of you and you mouthed at his throat, lips pressing a scattering of messy kisses there and you trailed them to his ear. 

You hummed, a happy noise that came from the back of your throat and you wound your arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair. 

“You close, hmm?” You gasped, chest pressed flush to the boy’s and you both rocked your hips, a dizzy mess of desperate movements. “Huh, Steve? Are you goin’ to come for me?”

The boy realised your game and he huffed out a laugh, groaning as he tucked his face into your neck, smelling rain and leftover sunscreen, letting you take your hands through his hair, tugging a little when you wanted him to slam his hips up into you. 

His hand found its way between your bodies, slick with sweat and rain, thumb running perfect, little circles over your clit as he forced you into the same breathless high that you were pinning on him. 

“Christ, yeah,” he grunted, voice shot, every word tumbling into the next, “come w’me? Not gonna last much longer, y’feel too good.”

His voice was a shot of whisky, caramel and sticky sweet when he spoke into your skin, a hand roaming up and down the expanse of your bare back, tongue laving over a nipple, sucking bruises into the dip between your breasts. 

You can’t remember a time you had ever felt so needy, it was startling, it was electrifying. 

“Steve, Steve, Steve,” you sounded wrecked, and Steve adored it. “Harder, fuck, harder, I’m close-”

Amazingly, Steve was so much more agreeable when he was buried to the hilt inside of you, hands pressing bruises to your hips as he slammed up into you, meeting your thrust for thrust as everything came to a high and you crashed into it together. 

“Awh shit, that’s it, there you go sweetheart.”

The boy whispered your name when he came, hips stuttering, mouth pressed to yours as he held you still, your limbs twitching from the aftershocks of it all. Steve petted at your thighs, hands all soft and shaky, forehead pressed to yours as you both panted, trying to catch the breath the other had stolen.

The rain had stopped when you clambered off of his lap, Steve helping you move on your shaky legs as he tied off the condom and tossed it into the bin near your bed. The birds were chirping again when he lay down beside you, both of you half naked, clothes rumpled, hair misbehaving, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.

The clouds were lifting, the room not as dark, a stripe of sunlight filtering through the gap in the curtains, gold cutting through the shadows. There was a drip, drip, drip of leftover rain on the porch, the soft gasps from both of you, sheets tangled at your feet. 

Quiet passed over you both, skin still tingling, lips feeling bruised from each other's mouths, the taste of Steve Harrington and rain still on your tongue. 

I can’t get any rest, people say I’m obsessed. 

The last week of summer camp went by in a slow roll. Like the way a camcorder stuttered over its film, lazy and with a soft crackle, memories trapped between sunspots and dust. 

Days passed without you being able to see much of Steve, Hopper finally making good on his promise as he kept you both apart, Steve sharing lifeguard duties with Billy and you co-ordinating crafts with Nancy.

The kids kept you all busy, the last few days bringing a new buzz of excitement as the thought of returning back home, to school, to reality, set in. You helped Will finish his painting, watched with pride when he presented it to Will, the other boy awed. Nancy settled arguments between Max and Lucas, raising her brows at you in amusement when you told her that they were fine, they were both just too stubborn. Steve finally taught El how to swim and when Robin caught Dustin and Suzie sharing a shy first kiss behind the old bike shed, she didn’t have it in her to tell them off.

In fact, you didn’t see Steve until three days after the storm, trailing out of Hop’s office after a surly looking Billy, both of them sporting bruised faces and cut lips, Steve’s hair messier than usual and Billy’s red lifeguard shirt was ripped at the collar.

He glared at you as he passed, blonde hair mussed and blue eyes cold, as if somehow, his black eye was your fault. But you didn’t worry yourself over Billy Hargrove’s sour mood, your feet quickly carrying you over to where Steve was.

Catching Steve’s elbow in your hand didn’t feel anywhere as near as unnatural as it did a week ago, your touch almost too casual on him. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, your hand on his bare arm, not really, not after that night.

But you hadn’t spoken about it since, you hadn’t touched, hadn’t pressed your lips back to his. So now, the feel of your palm curled around his elbow had you both burning. Steve stared at you, eyes flickering to where you held him and you swallowed hard, told yourself to be brave and you didn’t let go. He didn’t pull away either. 

“Hey,” your voice was a soft murmur, the low buzz of the kids in the mess hall almost drowning you out. “Are you okay? What happened?”

You were frowning as you took in the bruise at his temple, shades of lavender and navy creeping towards his eyebrow, a cut on his lip that was red with dried blood, his hair falling over his eyes like he’d been thrown around. 

Steve shrugged, eyes glancing back towards the door of Hopper’s cabin, scowling when he saw that Murray was at the window, watching you both with a mug of coffee to his lips, hiding his grin. Steve took your hand in his, gesturing to the old gym and you would’ve followed him even if his hand wasn’t pulling you along behind him.

Once you were both hidden from the rest of the camp, bodies pressed into the cool shadows that the side of the old building brought, Steve turned to you, a hand still tangled in yours, the other finding the dip in your waist, just because he could. His touch brought shivers to your skin, a feeling you still weren’t used to and you found that you didn’t hate, not at all. 

If anything, it made you braver, urging you to take a step closer, your hand taking his chin in your grip as you tilted his head up to the sun, the bruise catching the light and you made a soft noise, a quiet hum. Steve let you push and pull at him, the start of a smile on his lips that you were sure he’d normally try and hide from you, but his fingertips were curling into your staff shirt, pushing it out of the way until his skin found yours and your breath hitched.

 “Billy?” You asked, careful.

“No, I’m Steve,” he joked but it was weak, his smile too tired and you huffed, catching his gaze with a stare he knew too well. 

It was no secret that Steve and Billy had never seen eye to eye, Steve took genuine offence to the way that Billy treated the kids, too harshly and with rough words, rolling his eyes if they ever got upset, laughing when he managed to scare them. 

But it had never come to a head, fist staying clenched by sides and jaws clenched, but Steve tended to try and stay out of fights - for the kids sake if anything. 

And you knew that, knew the boy better than you thought, years of living in the same small town, summers spent in the same warm forest making you pick up more than you realised about Steve Harrington. 

“What happened?” You asked again, still quiet. 

Your thumb ran over the cut on his lip, gentle and if Steve wasn’t in pain, you probably would’ve smirked when he shivered at your touch. 

“Jus’ Hargrove talkin’ shit,” Steve grunted, voice rough as if he’d been yelling. Knowing Hopper and Murray, he probably had been. “It’s fine, m’fine, princess.”

The pet name carried so much more affection than it had before, warming you to the bone, skin tingling, cheeks flushed. 

You frowned, lips pouted, unperturbed when you dropped your hand from Steve’s jaw and it landed on his shoulder instead, the two of you swaying slightly together, not all that used to touching just yet, but enjoying the closeness nonetheless. 

“You don’t usually let him get to you,” you huffed, brows still knitted together and you were somewhat annoyed at yourself for not being there to break the boys apart. Steve had proved himself capable of listening to you now, and you were not above using it to your advantage, especially if it kept him out of the way of Billy’s fists. 

Steve just looked at you, eyes all soft, brown sugar and honey, shrugging with a small smile, like he was keeping a secret. 

“Stranger things have happened, haven’t they, sweetheart?”

You stared at him, lips parted, wondering if this was another taunt, a tease, the start of an argument, because neither of you had had a chance to talk about what had happened in your cabin that night. You’d both woken up tangled together, bodies lazy and tired, the moon in the sky outside and Robin thankfully still gone. You had wrapped yourself in the sheet that smelled like Steve as you watched him get dressed, cheeks warm and nerves fluttering at your chest. 

Neither of you had spoken, but he smiled all soft and bent down to kiss you before he left, his lips yielding on yours, a small noise of something huffing from him as he let you cup his jaw, holding him to you a little longer. The fight seemed to have left both of you, too slow and sleepy to pretend anymore. Steve had traced the bruise he’d left on your neck, pushed your still messy hair from your forehead and kissed there too before he left, the cabin door closing softly behind him. 

So you were waiting for a snarky comment, a dismissal, an argument, maybe. But Steve grinned and squeezed at your waist, fingers still brushing warm underneath your shirt and then the bell rang, signalling the end of dinner and you both startled, jumping apart, despite being hidden.

“Steve-” you stopped, laughing embarrassed when Steve said your name at the same time. “Uh, you first,” you told him, achingly shy all of a sudden.

“Do you- uh, you think you could meet me later? By the lake?” Steve asked, squinting at you like he too was suddenly feeling awkward.

You felt like a teenager standing at her locker between classes, the school hall empty and your heart in your throat. You grinned, tried to hide it by ducking your chin to your chest, an already scuffed trainer kicking at the twigs by your feet.

“Are you asking me on a date, Harrington?” Your voice was all soft teasing, warm like the summer and it made the boy smile, cheeks pink, eyes rolling with affection, not annoyance. 

“No,” he scoffed and you heard the lie there, heard the warmth. “Shut up.”

You laughed, snorting softly in a way that made Steve grin even harder, both of you feeling uncharacteristically giddy in the presence of the other, and god, you couldn't help but think about how the boy had dragged you into his lap, half naked and desperate. 

“I hate you, remember?” Steve whispered it, moving a little closer, a hand playing with a stray lock of hair, knuckles brushing against your cheek. 

You hummed and nodded, brows furrowed and lips pursed as if you were indeed, remembering. You remembered how the boy tasted, how he felt, how wild he got for you when you tugged his hair and bit down on his pretty bottom lip. 

So you pushed softly at his chest, all strong muscle and warm skin underneath his faded staff shirt and you looked up at Steve through your lashes.

“Yeah, I remember,” you murmured back.

And then the sounds of the kids spilling out of the mess hall finally got too loud, the evening hardly over and there were jobs still to do. You both heard Eddie announce that week's dungeons and dragon’s meeting, a crowd of the kids cheering, Nancy corralling others to the campfire, s’mores and storybook in hand. You had promised Max that you’d swap some mixtapes with her, the redhead and El both at your side during lunch, brandishing old Madonna and a double cassette of Kate Bush that Max said she was sick of listening to.

“Eleven o’clock?” Steve asked, hand brushing down your arm, any excuse to touch you before his palm curled warm around your elbow. “Where the old boathouse used to be?”

You nodded, relishing the last touch before he left, hand in his hair as he walked back out to the chaos of the camp, meeting Dustin on one of the walkways and ruffling the young boy’s curls. You waited until Steve had disappeared into the woods, following the trail that led to where Eddie was setting up his wizard game.

It didn’t take long for you to settle yourself onto a fallen log beside Robin, cheek leaning on her shoulder as Suzie settled herself by your feet, leaning on your legs as El tucked herself into the other side of you. The kids were all enraptured by Nancy, the small crowd lit by the glow of the fire as the girl told stories of three headed dragons and kids with superpowers, little girls and boys who were all strong enough to defeat monsters and nightmares.

And then when the fire was starting to burn out, the night darker, the kids sleepier, you swapped your old tapes with Max’s, sending the girl back to her cabin happier than before. The rest of the camp followed the trails into the shallow parts of the forest, the moon filtering through the branches as they tumbled into their bunks, all smelling like smoke and with marshmallow stickiness on their fingers. 

Nancy waited until Robin had been pulled away by a disgruntled Mike, Will on their heels as they claimed they needed an impartial party in order to settle a game debate, Eddie too busy laughing to indulge the boys.

“So,” Nancy murmured, shoulder nudging yours, “you heard about Steve and Billy, huh?”

You panicked at the mention of the boy, a small surge of ‘oh god, she knows’, before you remembered the bruises, the fight that Steve never explained to you.

You blew out a breath and shrugged, suddenly feeling like it was too hard to play normal, like Nancy would look at you and know, like she’d notice the lavender bloom on your skin, hidden by your shirt collar. 

“I mean,” you started, voice overly casual, “I knew they tried to beat the shit out of each other, but I dunno why.”

The girl looked at you through frizzy bangs, brows raised and hidden behind her fringe. Her mouth fell into a little ‘o’, surprise colouring her features before she smiled, knowing.

“You don’t?” You shrugged again, following Nancy’s lead as you both made your way around the now empty logs, gathering up chocolate smeared paper plates and forgotten sweaters. The fire simmered between you both, the burnt out logs still glowing and smoking, the faint sound of Hopper’s records playing from his open office window filling the air. 

“Hargrove was being his usual self, a complete dick.” 

You snorted at Nancy’s words before she continued, still smiling. 

“But then he started talking about you,” the girl said, lips twisted, eyes gazing at you. “Kept asking Steve if he thought he should make a pass at you, some disgusting comment about how easy you’d give it up.”

You screwed up your face, unimpressed but unsurprised by Billy’s words and you were standing still, feet planted as you waited for the rest of the story. 

“Guess he finally pushed Steve too far, ‘cause before any of us knew it, he flew for Billy, fist straight to his face.”

Your jaw dropped, lips parted, eyes wide. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Nancy huffed out a laugh, “took Eddie and Hop to break them up, Steve was really gunning for him. But I guess, I can’t really blame him, Billy was still running his mouth even after Steve rattled his jaw.”

“Huh.”

You were speechless.

“I know, right?” the girl smiled and she walked around to take the stack of plates you’d collected, looking at you with the air of suspicious interest that only Nancy Wheeler could manage. “Has, uh, anything happened between you two?”

You baulked, eyes ever wider and you wondered if Hopper’s music was loud enough to cover the thumping of your heartbeat. You laughed, forced, pulled your brows together and scrunched your nose. “What? Who?”

God, you’d never made it as an actress. 

“You and Steve,” Nancy replied lightly, settling another inquisitive stare on you. She seemed to be searching your face for clues, for hints. “You’ve been getting along better lately, no arguments.” She grinned, sharp, “it’s been quiet.”

You barked out a laugh, nervous and shy, because she was right, of course she was right, Nancy was always right, she just didn’t need to know the reason why. 

So you shrugged again, feeling warm, wondering if you needed to blame the leftover heat from the fire for your flushed appearance. “Yeah, uh, I guess Hopper finally decided to keep us apart.”

Your words sounded scripted, the lie sounded thick and it tasted weird on your tongue. Nancy smiled at you like she knew everything. But she nodded, soft and placating as she sighed and picked up another sweater, chocolate stained, and a hat that looked like Dustins. 

“Yeah,” she agreed, “I guess.”

----------

Robin was already asleep as you pushed your feet back into your shoes, your friend snoring softly from her bunk, hair covering her eyes, lips pressed into a pucker with her face squished to the mattress edge.

The rest of the camp was somewhat quiet, the hushed conversations coming from some of the open cabin windows, torch lights shining out of cracks in the curtains, whispered stories and secrets lingering in the still warm air. Hopper’s cabin was illuminated in the distance, music still playing softly, the backlit figures of the camp leader and Joyce sipping wine over the desk. 

You passed Eddie as you walked towards the lake, sticking to the shadows off of the path, converse crushing pinecones and the boy was leaning over the edge of the railing of his porch, a sneaky joint hanging from his fingertips, the tip glowing a dirty red in the dark.

He caught your gaze, grinned wide and toothy as he raised a hand in a lazy wave and you felt too warm knowing that he was well aware of his own missing bunkmate. Did he know? Did Steve tell him? Did you mind?

“Late night rendezvous, Hawkins?” Eddie whispered, head tilted to look at you teasingly. You flipped him off and he chuckled, low and throaty. “Don’t argue too loud now, you don’t wanna wake the kids.” 

And then he winked, stubbed his joint out onto the railing and padded back into his cabin, barefoot and ready for bed. 

The camp was darker without the campfire lighting up the main square, the tall trees blocking out most of the moon, the stars white dots between indigo clouds. It got brighter as you neared the lake, skirting the edges of the beach before you waded through the longer grass, the messier part of the waters edge that no one was usually allowed into.

Wildflowers and weeds brushed your bare shins, your pyjama shorts not doing enough to keep you cool, even in the night. The summer lingered in the air, on your skin, leftover sun kissing at your cheeks, your shoulders. Or maybe it was the anticipation of what was waiting for you on the other side of the lake, who was waiting for you.

So you moved a little faster, crickets chirping in the longer grass, cicadas buzzing from the forest you’d left behind. The moonlight danced off the surface of the lake, the water silver, the air fresh and sharp. Everything was pine and cedar, damp moss and old smoke. 

And then Steve was sitting in a clearing in the bush, bare feet dipped up to his ankles in the water, jeans rolled up as he sat on the remnants of an old dock, half of it destroyed by weather and time with the bare bones of the boathouse behind it. 

Steve looked up as you approached, hiding his smile by looking back out at the water and he shuffled along the old boards a little, letting you sit down next to him. You pulled your shoes off like he had, tucked your socks inside so you wouldn’t lose them and you sighed when the cool water licked across your feet. 

You wish you could say the silence was comfortable, and it was, in a way. The night wrapped around you both like a warm blanket, familiar in a way that only the camp was, smoke and mountain air, fresh water and cedar. 

But there was something buzzing underneath it all, an electrical current that carried tension and questions. It fizzed, it crackled. It was stolen glances from under lashes, hands curled around the edge of the dock, close enough for pinky fingers to brush. It was the promise of another kiss, the flushed cheeks of remembering that you had kissed. It was the boom, boom, boom of a nervous heart, that sticky feeling of not being able to swallow properly. 

Your shoulders brushed, hands grazed, breath hitched and chests burned. There was a smile on your lips that you were trying to hide, the kind that made your cheeks ache, biting your tongue to stop the sheer giddiness of it all. 

“D’you still hate me?” Steve asked, and he sounded like you felt, that hidden smile in his voice, rosy around the edges, the sunshine boy in the middle of the forest. 

You laughed, soft and on a huffed breath, chin tilted down so you could watch the way your toes trailed patterns in the water, the way the lake looked like ink underneath you both. You thought about his question, about how you would’ve answered it a week ago, how you wanted to answer it now. 

You realised then, that despite what had occurred in that small space in time, the answer would have been the same. 

“I’ve never hated you, Harrington,” you told him and his surname sounded so much nicer now, an endearment on your tongue instead of a curse. “Not really.”

Steve glanced at you from under his lashes, brown eyes looking black in the night, the shadows on his face blue and the bruises from Billy looking darker than before. 

He smiled, lips curling a soft line, dimples appearing and he looked adorably shy. He nudged you, shoulder bumping your own. 

“I don’t know if I believe that, princess.”

You knew he was joking, at least you were sure he was. But you guessed that such a statement required an explanation. So you inhaled the mountains, the forest, the lake and Steve in your lungs, before blowing it back out with all your pride. 

“I was always jealous I guess,” you shrugged, eyes on your hand, fingers playing with an old knot in the wooden board you sat on. “You always seemed to get what you wanted. You were so popular, everyone liked you. Even the teachers.”

“Kinda immature, I know,” you flushed, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. “It just seemed like everything I wanted - everything I worked so hard for - was just handed to you.”

You snuck a glance at the boy, knowing that your words were unfair. Steve wasn’t stupid, he did well in school, well enough to get good grades and get away with being too cheeky every now and then. 

“I know that sounds harsh and- and I’m sorry that I always spoke shit about your dad,” you cleared your throat nervously. “About your family, your uh, financial situation… that was never very nice of me.”

It wasn’t a secret that you didn’t live in a house that was as big as Steve’s, or that through middle school, your mom worked two jobs. But you were happy and it wasn’t Steve’s fault. You knew that. You’d always known that. 

But the boy only nodded, a knot between his brows and he moved closer until his knee knocked against yours as if he was telling you it was okay. 

“No, uh, you’re right,” Steve whispered. He was frowning, like he had only really come to this realisation then. “You’re right, about my dad.”

You didn’t want to be. 

“He’s not really around, you know? Neither is my mom. There’s always business meetings, trips out of town, out of state.” He laughed, humourless. “Which is why we stay in that nice, big house, I know but-”

Steve swallowed, face twisted in sadness and frustration and you ached to reach out and smooth away the lines there, the furrow on his forehead, the downturn of his lips. Somewhere in the distance, something small splashed in the lake. 

“-but they’re just never around. They never were.” He looked at you, smile sad, eyes sadder. “My dad’s just an ATM. He’s a cheque, a couple of numbers after a report card.”

“Steve…”

He didn’t want your sympathy you realised, he didn’t want pity. But he didn’t brush you off when you lay your hand on his leg, rough denim under your palm, just above his knee. 

“My mom was the same, pizza money on the counter, a couple of hundred dollars for the weekend when I was fourteen and they had to go to Memphis -no, Minnesota - I can’t remember. But I was alone the whole week.”

“That’s horrible,” you told him. Your statement was simple, an understanding, a fact, and Steve liked that your voice didn’t soften for him, it didn’t change. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding and pulling the hand that was on his knee into his own. Your fingers tangled with his and your tummy flipped at the roughness of his palm. 

“I hated when he pulled that shit, you know? The science fair?” Steve scrunched his nose in annoyance. “He didn’t even stay for the results, to watch me get a prize. He just paid and left.”

Your hand squeezed his a little tighter. 

“Your parents were always there,” he murmured and his voice warmed. “I remember in fourth grade, when we changed classes and you were so nervous, your mom was there giving you a hug and your dad was taking photos even though you were crying.”

“I wasn’t crying,” you huffed, voice breathy because you were embarrassed by the memory, shocked that Steve remembered. “You noticed me?” You couldn’t help but ask. 

He only hummed, still smiling, both of you leaning into the other more than before, letting the boy take your warm weight as you accepted his. 

“I always noticed you,” he said and his sincerity was life altering. “You just drove me crazy.”

It didn’t sound like a bad thing, when he said it like that, when he was looking at you the way he was.

“Did you always hate me?” 

Steve grinned, shaking his head as he looked out onto the water. “Never did, princess, I told you that already. I guess I was jealous of you too, huh?”

You were shocked, lips parted, heart heavy. But then you shook your head, thinking of something else to say to clear the weight in the air because you didn’t want to think of fourteen year old Steve in that big house all alone anymore. 

“I work here to save for college,” you told him, like it was supposed to be a secret, like Steve hadn’t heard you talk to Dustin about it before. “My grades weren’t quite good enough to score me a scholarship so-” you trailed off, gesturing uselessly to your staff shirt you were still wearing. 

“I failed my Chemistry exam,” Steve told you in return, voice unaffected. “Then I told my dad I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go to college, that I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do.”

You turned to look at the boy, traced the lines of his face with careful eyes, the slope of his nose, his jaw, the curve of his cheek. 

“He cut me off,” Steve said simply, “we don’t really talk anymore. So I’m tryin’ to save up for my own place.”

“In Hawkins?” You asked, because nothing else seemed to matter. 

“Anywhere,” Steve answered. “Where d’you wanna go to college?” 

“Anywhere,” you told him and it felt like a confession. 

His smile was blinding. 

—————

Steve kissed you behind your cabin, the forest your only audience. He pressed you into the wet wood of the wall, just like he had done the days before, rain on his skin and his lips on your neck. 

But this felt like a first kiss, it felt like the first time. No one dared you to do it, no fight or challenge in either of your bodies and it made you melt against him all slow and soft, butterflies in your stomach, your heart in your throat. 

It still felt new, it felt like a crush, like something to wake up and look forward to in the morning, like the first day of summer, the morning before camp began. 

Steve kissed you lazy and deep, like he had all the time in the world, like he wanted to swallow you whole like then night. He tasted like mint toothpaste and soda, the fizz of it making you buzz, cherry and sugar on your tongue. He brought his hand to your cheek, fingertips pressing gentle to your skin, his thumb soothing over the sting of his teeth on your bottom lip.

It made you push up onto your toes, chasing his mouth, your hands in his hair and making him bend down for you, sighing all happy like he didn’t care you were telling him what to do. 

He kissed you like he wanted to keep you. 

It was hard to pull away from each other, even when the rest of the camp was asleep and the night was drawing into early morning. You craved the touch of the boy you’d always kept at arm's length, amazed at the way you responded to him so easily, so desperately, like your bodies were both yelling at you, asking ‘why weren’t we doing this all along?’

You wanted to tell him your secrets, you wanted to share your summer. You wanted to ask what this meant, but you were too scared, maybe still too full of pride and the idea of going back to Hawkins and being rejected was too much to bear. 

So you took the stolen kisses behind the cabin, hands touching bare skin under shirts, edging just shy of being scandalous, the sounds of your soft breath mixing with Steve’s and it was dizzying. 

It was enough for now. 

You went to bed with one more kiss still fizzing on your lips, a new mark pressed on your neck, hidden under hair and matching the one you had given the boy. Steve watched as you walked into your cabin, footsteps soft and the shy squeak of the door made you both cringe but Robin stayed asleep. 

You waved goodnight, eyes tired but your heart still thumping, and when Steve raised his hand in response, a smile on his face that had the shadow of shyness, you wanted to squeal. 

It was ridiculous, this giddiness, this new feeling for the boy you’d known for so long. It wasn’t all that different though, being pressed up against Steve Harrington as he kissed the breath from you. He still made you wanna bite back, kiss him harder than he’d kissed you, a sense of a challenge lingering around you both at all times. 

It just felt more fun now. 

—————

Hopper seemed almost disappointed that he hadn’t managed to collect more damage money from you and Steve. There had been a mason jar sitting on his desk from day two, a haphazard sticker on it with the words `therapy savings' written in sharpie. After the kayak incident, there had only been a few more dollars stuffed into it, some loose change for snarky comments made at meetings and one green M&M that Eddie had managed to throw into it from across the room. 

But the camp was still standing after another year, the buses and cars of parents littering the spaces between the cabins as the kids dragged out too big duffel bags, yelled about lost games and forgotten socks. 

Some kids lined up to hug you goodbye, El and Will sniffling softly into your t-shirt as your own tears fell into their hair, your arms wrapped tight around them. You’d see them next year, like you always did, when they were older and taller and less likely to throw themselves into your arms in greeting. 

Dustin told you all about a radio he was building, something that would allow you to chat to him through the school year and he was handing you a scribbled note with all the best walkie talkie brands on it and numbers for different frequencies. He let you mess his curls one more time, his grin wide and his cheeks pink. 

Lucas and Mike helped you load your bags in your car, despite their parents standing waiting with smiles on their faces. You pestered them both into a hug, both of them pressed to a shoulder as you told them to be good and stay out of trouble. 

Your voice didn’t really crack until Max appeared, Walkman around her neck and another cassette in her hand. She tried to look casual about it when she handed it to you, a piece of tape stuck to the front with the words ‘love from Max’ written on it. 

“Maxine,” you gasped, all faux shock and she rolled her eyes. “You made me my own tape?”

The girl shrugged, one hand pulling at the end of a braid as she scowled, trying to keep the pink from her cheeks. 

“It’s no big deal,” she muttered to the ground, “your taste in music needed expanding.”

She said it huffily, but she meant ‘I’ll miss you.’

“Thanks kid,” you whispered, throat tight, eyes glassy and you nudged your shoulder into hers. She pressed her head to your arm in lieu of a hug, saving that one show of rare affection for Lucas instead. 

Then she was gone, along with the rest of the kids, and the camp was finally quiet again. 

Billy picked up his wages and left without saying goodbye to anyone, duffel bag dragging on the ground as he grabbed a greyhound out of Indiana, face still mottled with bruises from Steve’s fists. 

Robin left with Eddie, the boy telling her that he’d drive her home instead of her having to share the same fate as Billy, shoved on a bus during the high heat of the day. She didn’t take much convincing when Eddie jumped into the driver seat and started blaring Prince from the radio, curls messy as he grinned at her. 

“C’mon Buckley, you can’t say no to me.”

And she didn’t. 

They boy hugged you tight before they left, Robin promising to write, promising to visit and Eddie lifted you off of your feet, crushing you to his chest as he whispered in your ear, “look after my boy, huh?”

They left in a plume of dust and dirt, the sound of ‘purple rain’ trailing behind them. 

Nancy and Jonathan were next, the girl doing one last round through the cabins, arms full of forgotten drawings, a lone teddy, seventeen odd socks. Then she hugged you, eyes fond, leaving with her boyfriend for a week's holiday in his hometown before promising you that she’d catch up with you back in Hawkins before college started. 

It left you and Steve alone in the staff parking lot, sun shining, blue skies, green forest and birds chirping. 

He was leaning against his car, arms crossed like the way he was looking at you was no big deal, smile all soft and familiar now, like that’s the way he’d always looked at you. 

Maybe it was. Maybe you’d never noticed. 

You pressed your hip into your own car, eyes full of trouble as you gazed at him expectantly. Steve raised his brows, smirked like he wanted to argue with you, like he wanted to kiss you. 

“Race you home?” He asked and god, his voice was honey, sweet and warm, capable of stopping you in your tracks. 

You laughed, patting the hood of your old car affectionately before telling him, “nah, my car is slow as shit.”

Your callback to his own words at the beginning of camp made him bark out a bright laugh, genuine amusement in his eyes and he shook his head, lips twisted. 

“Glad you can finally admit it, princess.”

You wondered if this was a goodbye, if this was it. You wondered if you were supposed to talk about what had happened, if this kiss you shared behind your cabin meant the same to Steve as it did to you. If you were supposed to go back to sharing the same town and calling each other names like you hadn’t been on top of him. 

So you waited, a beat of silence, a roll of summer washing over you both. The breeze picked at both your hair, stray stands blowing across lips and mouths and you sighed, soft, wanting. 

“Uh, there’s um,” Steve was scratching the back of his neck, eyes fond on you, smile all nervous. “There’s this diner in Lowell, they do a pretty good burger.”

You grinned, happiness beating out of you like the fucking sun. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve called back, grinning just like you. He looked pretty, softer than you once knew him, all wild curls and caramel eyes, new freckles on his nose, the bruise you gave him faded on his throat. “D’you wanna stop for lunch?”

You could’ve sworn the only sound in the forest was your heart. 

“Are you asking me out on a date, Harrington?”

You waited for the scoff, the teasing, the taunt. You were so used to the quick, sharp bite of a reply, that when he shrugged all slow and lazy, head tilted to look at you from under his lashes, you were surprised. 

“Yeah,” he told you again. 

It was such a simple reply. One word, so sincere, heart stoppingly sure. 

You ducked your head, hiding your grin, your flush, the way your eyes must’ve been glittering. It felt a little magic, a little manic, that feeling of something new.

It felt like a first kiss, a boy touching you during a thunderstorm, like the taste of rain, the smell of campfire smoke. It was all Steve fucking Harrington. 

So you nodded, took a breath, took a chance, grinned and opened your car door. 

“I’ll meet you there.” 

[wh4re4marvel]

The Devil Always Gets What He Wants…

A/N: God that fucking smirk jdkJfkejfkshfjwndkdj

This is my first posted smut, enjoy I hope?

Feel free to reblog, like, reply, share but please don’t copy my work or repost elsewhere without any sort of credit! Also READ THE WARNINGS! My page and content is NOT for minors and in no way do I welcome minors.

Word Count: 6,285

Summary:

Reader hasn’t had sex in a while, rants to her friends in their office which just so happens to be Foggy and Nelson’s about stress, wanting sex, and a crush on the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. However the Devil has been a bit obsessed with our reader for a while now and after being mistreated and taken for granted by this city for so long, he figures why not just take what he wants for once… after all he deserves something nice and sweet for himself right?

Pairing: Fem reader x Daredevil/Matt Murdock

⚠️ MINORS DNI⚠️

Possible Content Warnings: Rough sex, angry sex? Mean Matt! Mean Daredevil! Dirty talk, crying, degrading, vaginal sex, F receiving oral, stalking, lots of dirty talk(come on it’s Matt), obsession, drinking(but not drunk when we get to the fun stuff), spanking, pet names (bunny, angel, baby), choking, dubcon/noncon a bit…? It’s a mess…(If i left anything out let me know!)

Also I am not responsible for your media consumption, warnings are up, once you continue on from here it’s all on you!

⚠️

The Devil Gets What He Wants

You were closing up the shelter again, another long ass day at the workplace. You couldn’t help but be a bit annoyed. Your shit boss couldn’t put more than two people to cover an entire day? You had to work overtime for the fourth time this week. You heard the dogs suddenly bark loudly, You snapped your head toward the animals in their kennels, “hey hey what’s up guys?” You couldn’t help but frown, you had thought the random barking had stopped, you’ve done so much training.

All have been walked, played with, had check ups and eaten today. As much as you loved the little fur babies they were too much all at once so you were happy to leave for now. You knew by tomorrow you’d miss them all over again, you’re finally getting your two days off. Two days where you run your errands, pay bills, check on family and friends, clean your small ass apartment and pretend you’re holding it all together when you’re really barely scraping by. No time for you. No time for relaxation, or sex, love, partying.

God you missed sex.

The last time you had sex was last year, it’s November so put that together. Thanks to the new job and strong lack of a social life, you haven’t had any new lovers. That’s New York I guess, place so full of people and you can’t find one for you. Not even one to give you a good fuck.

Your phone buzzed right as you locked up, shit I forgot to kiss Charlie by. Charlie has been at the shelter over a year, he’s an older gentlemen, a kind pit bull with such a sweet heart, but he has some scars that people just can’t see past. Lucky you, you have an apartment that doesn’t allow dogs.

“Oh hey Foggy, how are ya?” You smiled as you answered, walking to your place. “Good. Hey I called to see if you’re busy tomorrow actually. Karen and I could really use a fresh eye on this case.” He explained and you nodded as if he could see you. “Mmm yeah I’ll come by, what time? I can bring some coffee if you guys want?” “Oh yes! You’re amazing! Any time after 9 works great.” He sounds overly excited and cheerful and you couldn’t help but giggle. “Alright I’ll see ya then dork!” You couldn’t help but giggle a bit again.

“Almost there.” You mumbled to yourself as you heard your foot steps echo, you felt off. Something was horribly wrong. New York is never quiet.

As you were entering the code to let yourself into your building , you felt eyes on you. You glanced back as your fingers brushed the door handle just to check, and a figure across the street was there. You could feel them, and something told you they could feel you too. “You get a kick out of watching ladies walk home or somethin’?” You shouted with annoyance. The pervs in New York…

Whoever it was didn’t budge so you went on in anyways. Making sure to immediately shut the door behind you, not wanting to welcome the figure in. It wasn’t the first time you’ve been possibly followed or watched, but nothing more than a cat call has actually happened.

Immediately you collapsed on your bed, enjoying the comfort of the full size mattress, best size you could afford and fit into the small space. You fell asleep and dreamt of the night you met the masked man in Hell’s Kitchen. The one time it was more than a cat call. You liked to try and force the events from your mind, random drunk guys on the street cornered you in some alley, you thought the unspeakable would happen, but they didn’t get a chance to set one finger on you as the devil himself appeared.

“Are you alright?” He asked and something about him seemed familiar. You longingly stared at the man as you trembled a bit still, it was many months ago, but his voice was fresh in your mind. “I’m alright, thanks.” You barely mumbled, you were stunned. Happy to be saved, just so much so fast, hell you were just headed home from a shit bar where you were just with your friends…

You stood before the man with horns in awe, he cocked his head to the side. Why was he so familiar? You wondered if he wondered the same.

Your blaring alarm woke you up, how could a dream so short be so long? You rubbed your eyes, it was barely six in the morning. You groaned annoyed at the fact that you left your work alarm on. Past you, you dumb cunt.

In the long run, you were grateful for that early wake up call. You had time to read, clean a bit, shower, shave, pluck some out of place eyebrow hairs, do a bit of makeup, pick a hell of an outfit and rub sweet sweet body butter onto yourself. You were thriving! Today was going to be great, you could feel it.

It was only 8:45 when you left but you wanted a head start to get some coffee and maybe show up a minute early or so. You stopped at your favorite coffee spot, getting three of the drinks, only a couple minutes of a walk to their office. Nelson & Murdock, however you never see much of Murdock. You’ve met the man on many occasions, he’s a cocky sarcastic fucker. You like it, but you’d never let him know that. He has quite the charm…

“Oh, hi Matt, I was expecting Foggy.” You were taken back as Mr. Murdock himself stood in front you, you had to knock a couple times. You almost thought you were too early, you looked at the clock and it was 8:55, where the hell is he? You can’t be alone with this man right now…

“Ms. Y/L/N, how are you? It’s been a while.” That cocky grin appeared on his face making you bite your lip. “I’m good Matthew thank you for asking. Where’s Foggy and Karen?” You asked as you sat the coffee down on a nearby counter. “WE ARE HAPPY TO SERVE YOU” yellow letters screamed at you. “Should be here any minute, I didn’t know you were coming by.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, always has something to smirk about. “I didn’t know you’d be here either, I only brought three coffees. You could definitely have mine though.” You were going to play it nice. Maybe Matt and I don’t have to hate each other. “I mean this is my office.” He sarcastically replies. Okay maybe we do have to hate each other. The thought crossed your mind. He walked over to you, inches from you. His chest hit yours, torsos brushing…

“Thanks for the coffee.” He smiled and reached right past you for a cup, walking off. Tease. The word angrily came to your mind. Wait how did he know where it was…

Before you could ask Foggy came in, thank god! “Oh you’re here already great!” He smiled and grabbed a cup of the hot liquid. “So we have this case and-,” as Foggy continued, you tried to pay attention but the way you felt that almost being watched feeling returned. It was coming from Matt though…

…

“Oh yes one hundred percent!” You instantly answered slamming your hand on the desk gently. After going over their case, Karen, Foggy, Matt and you had some drinks all at Foggy’s desk. Foggy choked on his drink and Matt chuckled, “oh what? If this was some hot woman dressed in some sexy super hero type suit you wouldn’t wonder damn what are you like in the sheets?” You asked outraged they could disagree.

“I just asked if you’d ever sleep with some stranger who fights crime in a leather suit and with no hesitation you said yes.” Karen giggled summarizing the new topic oddly. “Okay well first off, hot stranger, and sexy leather suit.” You corrected her with a giggle as you took another sip of your drink. “Okay you two, come on really? If you were a woman, you wouldn’t?” You were astounded they could disagree. “I don’t think I could ever come back to this office after that.” Foggy said shaking his head with a smile, making Matt laugh softly. You assumed he meant due to the devil of Hell’s Kitchen and his illegal activities, of course a lawyer would avoid such drama. Little did you know he just didn’t want to fuck his best friend…

“I’m just saying no questions asked, him, me, rough sex. ANYTIME.” You emphasized your previous statement. Karen and you talked about your interest in the masked man. She didn’t think you were serious. “Look, this man could spit on me, choke me, slap me, spank me, bruise my insides and I would pray to God to let him do it all over again and thank him for every second.” You said shrugging your shoulders. Okay maybe I can’t hold my liquor too well. Foggy took away my glass, “you’re done for the night.” He laughed shaking his head.

You looked over at Matt and his slightly pink cheeks, lip between his teeth with a grin on his face. What’s he smiling about? “Yeah you’re past done Y/N.” Karen giggled a bit as she finished her own drink. “Aw you guys are no fun!” You rolled your eyes and pouted a bit. “Okay okay, we need to get you laid girl. Why not try a dating app? I heard people hook up all the time using those.” You cringed instantly at Karen’s words. “Ew, I don’t want to do stuff with a stranger.”

Foggy immediately erupted into laughter, “you see the irony in that, due to your previous statements right?” “That’s different. There’s something so sexy about that man, I’d lick the blood off his lip, for the devil he looked like a damn angel, a heroic one. He had quite the ass on him! Ou! I didn’t mention that the first time! It’s all round and plump! Yeah definitely would let him hit, he’s probably HUNG, but even after a year of no sex I’d make him fit.” “Okay!” Karen sat up grabbing my hand. “That’s enough talking from you.” She smiled and shook her head. Your head was a bit dizzy but you meant what you were saying, you think, yeah, you did.

“Let’s walk you home. I should get going to.” Karen said looking over at the clock. Matt and Foggy stopped their loud chuckling and cackling and also stood up getting ready to go. “We should get going to.” Matt said and grabbed his cane.

You shivered a bit as you stepped out the door, your skirt doing nothing to keep you warm. “I’ll walk with you, we live like a block from each other anyways.” Karen said as we got outside. The wind blowing through your thin low cut blouse, damn the revealing clothing thing was dumb. It’s freezing tonight.

After some brief small talk, we all were finally making our separate ways. You gave Foggy a small peck on the cheek and a hug, “bye Foggs.” You smiled and poked his nose. You hugged Matt, arms around his neck, leaning to the cocky fella’s ear and whispered a “Bye Matty.” Pecking his neck right below his ear with a smile after as you looked at his surprised face. Lips parted ever so slightly, and just like that Karen and you begun your walk home.

“Wow, a whole year without sex. I can’t imagine.” Karen said still stunned by the fact you let slip earlier. “Ugh I know!” You groaned at the thought, sad at remembering yet again that streak goes on. “Maybe your mystery man can help you, I mean he’s out at night right?” She joked gesturing to the night sky. “God I wish!” You laughed obnoxiously as you couldn’t help it. The alcohol still in your system.

“Bye hun.” You murmured as you pecked her cheek, you were right in front of her building. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Karen’s worried tone laced with the question. “Yes, I walk home from work all the time. I promise I’ll be just fine.” You assured the taller woman with a nod. “Okay,” she said hesitantly. “Just call me immediately!” She gently demanded and you nodded again. “Yes mom!” You rolled your eyes and made sure she got inside safe before fully turning the corner heading home.

You hummed along to the song playing in your head, only a couple minutes away. You were speed walking, well as fast as the heels on your feet would let you. “Hey ma! Ma! Come on I don’t bite!” A man in some group shouted, that’s when you really started to pick up the pace. Fuck, no.

The night was feeling too familiar, you could see your apartment building now. Rushing in, closing the glass door behind you, that figure across the street. You could tell it wasn’t those men, same feeling as yesterday… You could feel one another’s presence. So similar yet so different from being watched.

You shook your head, heading up to your apartment. The stairwell was at least empty, the people in the building all seemed reasonable. “Home sweet home!” You cheered to yourself as you threw the heels off instantly, they were Hell after a few hours. You walked over to your fridge grabbing yourself a glass of water, and headed to your room. Fuck this apartment was cold, you froze. Your window was open…

Something so unlike you and so careless, how, when even? You shook your head, shutting the glass and locking it. Looking out, not the best view of the city but it was still a damn good one. You sipped the water as you looked out at the lights all over, bringing the city to life. Then you saw something, someone, the masked figure right in front of you, what the fuck…

The realization hit the window was acting as a mirror and you dropped your glass, shattering near your feet as you gasped in fear. He’s in your house… A hand covered your mouth and you stared at the figure behind you in horror. “Hi Angel, Are you alright?” Those all too familiar words repeated and you heart dropped. He remembered you?

“Missed you,” he pulled you around to face him. His figure towering over your small frame. “W-what?” Was all you could muster. What the fuck is happening? Why is he here? What does he want? “I can hear that little heart of yours pounding, like a little scared bunny. Are you scared of me?” The man asked, stepping ever closer to you. Hand wrapping around my throat, not squeezing but just, present. You let out a small gasp and felt your eyes water. Why is this happening to you?

“You should be scared bunny, you want the devil. You got him.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. Warm breath on your neck sending shivers down my spine. I felt the place between my thighs dampen, Jesus am I really getting turned on by this. “What, what are you talking about? What do you want?” You asked shaking your head, leaning back, trying not to take a step, afraid of the broken glass on the floor.

“I hear everything Angel. Like you wanting, this.” He smiled as he wrapped his hand firmly around my throat, pulling you toward him on your tip toes. A small moan slipped from your throat, You didn’t mean for it to but it did. His smile only grew at that. “You’re gonna be a good girl for me tonight okay Y/N?” Presented as a question but his tone made it so clear it was a demand. Yet again that voice was so familiar, especially when he said your name… How would he even know it?

“I’ve been observing you.” He spoke as he pulled you back, and pushed you down onto your bed. “Alone all the time, overworked, stressed, tired, horny… You need this just as much as I do Angel.” He leaned over you, large body engulfing your frame. “I don’t know what you heard, b-but I was drunk- and I just- no. Please just leave.” You nearly whined at how roughly he grabbed your cheeks. “Stop lying, I hate liars. You’re all so bad at it, and Y/N you’re the worst. Such a good girl, your lying is just pitiful.” He practically spits those last words at you, such anger.

“Now, don’t make me do things here the hard way baby. Lie back, I can smell how much you want this. That little cunt of yours has been dripping all day long, let me take care of that for you.” Your eyes widened, he’s been “observing” you all day? How have you not noticed? How does he know so much?

With your skirt already riding up your thighs, he just rips the thin lace clean off you, your skin burning at the feeling. You gasped and whimpered at the roughness. “Please sir.” You couldn’t help but whine as the strange man kissed your inner thigh, giving it a small lick. Suddenly your thighs were gripped harshly, body pulled to the edge of your bed. His fingers digging into your skin, ensuring bruises by tomorrow morning. You gasped as his tongue dived between your lips and against your clit, his facial hair scratching around your sensitive area.

Only a couple licks in and you were a whining mess for the man between your thighs. He lapped his tongue at your clit with such speed and precision it made your eyes roll. Your moans turned into screams in pleasure fast as he worked the most sensitive part of your clit, one hand disappeared from your thigh. Only to appear between your legs, a finger at your opening. The areas so sensitive having not been touched in so long. Hell you didn’t even have the time yourself. Now the devil himself is devouring you and your most sensitive areas. You gasped as one of his thick rough fingers entered your soaked hole, that welcomed him with ease with how much you were dripping for him. A complete stranger. He nearly smiled as he ate your pussy, he had you such a mess so soon. That smell of yours was nearly overwhelming for him, not to mention the sweet sweet taste. He groaned, he couldn’t get enough.

So suddenly he sucked harshly at your clit making you cry out in pleasure, thighs clenching around his head. You whined when one of the horns on his helmet pricked your inner thigh. The pain disappeared immediately as he began his torturous licking again. Another finger pushed into you making you whimper and moan. “I’m gonna cum!” You practically screamed as your thighs began to shake. He smiled and paused for a split second, “cum bunny.” The two words were more than what you needed to let go as he worked those thick long fingers inside you, tongue matching that fast speed on your bundle of nerves.

You’ve came before, but never like this. Your whole body trembled harshly, vision blurred as tears flew from your eyes and you screamed horrendously as he continued to devour your sweet pussy. In love with your taste. “P-please.” You begged at the overwhelming pleasure. After one more light suck on your clit, he removed his mouth and fingers. “Fuck Angel, you taste like Heaven.” He smiled evilly at you, you stared in awe at his plump lips, chin dripping with your wetness and his spit.

He leaned forward, hovering over you, lips centimeters from yours. His breath gently falling over your lips, you stared at his waiting patiently. He closed the distance instantly, his soft lips on yours. Unlike his soft lips the kiss was rough, passionate, needy. The taste of you so prominent in his mouth as your tongues explored one another’s. He couldn’t get enough at that fruity sweet taste in yours. Everything about you was so sweet to him. He groaned into the kiss throwing his head back a bit as his hard cock brushed your thigh. “Please sir.” You whined, that aching feeling between your thighs was so prominent. “I want to see you.” The desperation in your voice was so prominent you hated yourself for it, but in the moment you didn’t care very much.

“Maybe once I’m inside you.” The words left his mouth with such promise in them. You almost gulped as you shut your thighs nervously, sitting up more and biting your lip staring into the red where his eyes would be. “Why do you want to see me? What if I’m someone you know?” The man asked as he gently gripped your chin. “You really wanna see the man that just ate that pretty little pussy out to it’s limit?” The cockiness this man had…. he wasn’t wrong. You could tell he knew it by the confidence he had.

“I don’t care. I just want to feel you, touch you, please.” You begged and spread your thighs again, he smiled at this, biting that bottom lip of his. “If you insist.” He grins, licking his lip, undoing his belt. You watch in excitement in awe, he noticed this as your heart beat quickens. “Excited are you now Angel?” He cocks his head at you, as he pulls down the leather pants and his boxers along with it. You watch as his v line appears more and more until his cock is in front of your face. The pink throbbing tip leaking precum. Panic raises through you as you realize his size, his girth alone was more than you were used to, but his length, how on earth would it fit? Your eyes were wide with surprise, you figured the man would be big, based on his confidence and actions. I mean a crime fighter has got to have some big balls to do what they do, but damn you didn’t expect this. “Nervous Angel?” His smile still plastered on his cocky fucking face. God he really reminded you of someone…. someone annoying. “I can hear your heart racing, too big for you?” The grin on his face didnt falter for a moment, but his tone was darker. Almost getting to that angry sounding one he had earlier…

“Do I have to take you the hard way or are you gonna lay back down and let me fuck you baby.” Though worded like a question it was yet again another demand. You shook a bit in fear, laying down and he climbed on top of you, kissing your lips, you shut your eyes, enjoying the feeling. Letting yourself forget what’s to come.

His lips traveled down to your neck, and you felt his cock rub your soaked pussy. “Mmm.” You moaned trying to hold back the sound. He clearly heard it, that fucking smile still there as he to your surprise ripped your blouse in half, the fabric tossed to the side instantly as he kisses down your chest, going to your nipples. Sucking and biting harshly at the sensitive buds. You became a whiney mess for him all over again. He sucked marks all into your flesh, making you his.

His tip brushed your hole and you squeaked. “I don’t know if I can do thi-.” You started but he just began to push in. “You wished for it baby,” he began and groaned as he continued to slowly push himself in. “When talking to Karen on the walk home, when she said I always come out at night. Then you said you’d one hundred percent fuck me Angel, remember? In the office?” He spoke driving you insane as your brain scrambled but couldn’t focus as he continued to push his huge dick inside of you. Stretching you perfectly to fit him, all of him if possible. Your wetness making it easier for him to slide himself in, but your tight grip ever so slightly making him have to force himself in. Your tight walls gripped him unforgivingly. “Ah fuck.” He groaned as you were just a broken whimpering mess under him.

“Think, use that big dumb brain, you know me Angel. Who am I?” The voice was so familiar but you couldn’t think even a little bit as his cock started to hit some amazing spots inside you. Your eyes fluttering as your mouth was gaped open in utter pleasure.

“Mmm fuck.” You moaned instead of an actual response. “Damn baby I’m not even all the way in and you’re already cock drunk.” You could hear the grin in his voice yet again. Your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. “Ugh please stop.” You whined knowing damn well you didn’t want him to stop one bit. The humiliation was kicking in a bit. He reminded you, he was a stranger. “Letting some strange man into you, naughty girl.” He groaned and suddenly, you felt so incredibly full, he was fully in. Well all that fit, maybe an inch or so wasn’t in.

“So fucking tight Y/N.” He groaned throwing his head back. His hair falling in front of his face. Wait his hair? Your eyes widened a bit again and you realized the mask was off. He moved his head back down and your eyes met with Matthew fucking Murdock. The sarcastic entitled cocky blind man, who is also a super sexy cocky entitled crime fighter… who you had no clue was blind…

Matt noticed you noticed by the way your pussy drooled around him, getting wetter, sucking him in deeper, clenching around him. You both moaned at that, “M-matt?” You said confused but angry, very turned on but hoping he wouldn’t notice that, but of course he did. He knew who you really were, all this time. A feeling of betrayal creeping in. It didn’t last as his hips started to move. “Matt, your practical enemy balls deep inside you baby, how do you like it?” His cocky voice taunted in your ear. You couldn’t answer as he started to really fuck you, thrusting his hips into yours with such strength and speed. Not even adjusted to his size he began to pound into you before you could even really react to finding out the identity of your once hero, who’s a fucking villain.

“Matthew, fuck, stop it. This is, wrong.” You moaned out between thrusts as your arms wrapped around his neck, looking for something to hold onto. “I told you I hate liars Angel.” He growled and shoved himself fully inside you again, slamming into a spot so deep in you that made you see stars. “Matt! Stop it!” You yelped and slammed your hands on his shoulders, digging your nails into the leather. Your walls spasmed a bit around him, he also or couldn’t believe he finally was inside the tight wet walls he could only ever imagine.

Matt Murdock was a good man, had a nice job, nice apartment, helped nice people, but it came at a price for him. Where was the love for the masked man who saved his city? Who loved his city so much he took one beating after the other, saving more people than he could keep track of. However one night he saved a woman in an alley, he recognized her smell, her voice, the way her heart beat… it was you. Matt had spent so much wasted time flirting with you hoping to maybe take you back home, he wanted something sweet and nice for himself. Was that so wrong? He could smell you all the time you were around, that scent between your thighs all for him. He knew his words always got you worked up, that’s why he continued to say them. Although no matter how hard the man tried you didn’t budge, Hell’s Kitchens devil had enough. He was going to take what’s his. After all, he deserved it after everything he’s done.

Something inside him as the lies continued to slip from your mouth, snapped.

You could feel the change in the air, around him, the sweet kind justice fighting lawyer, wasn’t there. This was who you fell for in the alley that night, the angry rage filled crime fighting devil. “You wished for this Angel, don’t forget it.” His voice filled with venom as he grabbed your thighs, hooking his arms around your legs, your body moving impossibly closer to his.

He continued to thrust harshly into your sensitive hole, as hard and as fast as he fucking pleased. Listening to the sweet sounds you made for him, the moans, whines, whimpers. Your rapid breaths and pounding heart, you tried to muffle your moans with your hands. “Don’t make me tie you up.” Your pussy denied your mind and was on the opposite page as you clenched around him at those words. “You’d like that hmm?” He groaned and picked up his pace a bit. “Maybe next time.” Your eyes widened at that, this would happen again?

Suddenly you were flipped around onto your stomach by the man in red. “Wanna take you from behind bunny, I’ve always loved this ass of yours.” Matt practically moaned out in ecstasy as his hands groped your ass harshly, his senses trying to not get overwhelmed by you, the scent of your pussy filling his nose like it never has before, dripping for him like there’s no tomorrow. Your sounds you made for him as he touched you in any way was something he never realized how badly he needed, like the most amazing music to his ears. Not to mention the feeling of you, all of you. His hands could never get enough, he needed more always. “Please Matthew-.” His chuckle interrupting you. “Oh baby, you can save whatever lie you’re going to tell,” he spoke as you assumed he was undressing himself from the sounds of movement and a zipper. “The devil stops at nothing Angel.” He remarked, chest against your back as he whispered the words right into your ear. “Now be a good girl and let out all those pretty little sounds for me.” As soon as those words left his mouth, Matt slid back into you, stretching you right back open for him.

“Fuck!” You cried out at the stretch all over again, he felt ever bigger at this angle making you whine. The groan he let out was God sent. His hips met your ass, hands firmly grabbing your waist as he begun to fuck roughly into you. “Mmm such a good girl, taking me so well.” He moaned out as he bottomed in and out of you at an unforgiving pace.

His body had such strength and force you could barely hold yourself up, but he was mainly doing it for you, pulling you back to meet his hips as you sobbed into your sheets in such extreme pleasure, never feeling anything quite like this. You loved to be man handled but never met a man who could do so, you guess the devil would be more than manly enough…

Your jaw couldn’t even shut as you all you did was moan helplessly on Matt’s huge cock. “Fuck me!” You cried out as he relentlessly pounded that spot inside you. “That’s what I’m doing sweetheart.” The cocky mouth of his remarked as he smacked your ass, making you gasp. That was definitely going to leave a mark, not that Matt cared. He was only getting more turned on by the thought of marking you as his. He couldn’t wait to do it from the inside out. He was getting close, twitching at the thought of finally releasing inside of you.

“Matty please!” You mewled and that did something to him. You were pleading for more… and he would stop at nothing to give that to you. However you know how Matt is, cocky and an asshole. He couldn’t just give it to you. No, you’d have to earn it.

“Beg.” Matt demanded. Taking you by surprise. Was he serious? He slowed down, but fucked you hard and slow, driving you wild. You couldn’t think very straight at the new pace and strength he was using, too cock drunk off him. “Come on baby, use your words. Tell me what you want.” The demand was much more firm as he dug his fingers deeper into the flesh of your hips. “P-please fuck me harder Matty! Please ugh! I’ll be so good.” You begged and pleaded as you gripped at your sheets with your eyes shut, tears had just poured from them and they stung. However that didn’t matter as he grabbed your skirt with such force, using it as handlebars as he railed into you harder. You didn’t think such speed and strength was possible. Leave it to Matt Murdock to prove you wrong.

“Matty! Fuck s’good!” You cried out as the brunette gave you everything you could possibly need and more in a fuck. You saw more than stars, hell this man made you see and feel a universe with the pleasure he made you feel. Another smack surprised you on your ass, “tell me how good it feels baby.” You could hear it in his voice he was close to. “I-Mmm, Oh God!” You couldn’t even form a proper sentence he had you so blissed out. “God? Quite the opposite actually Angel, now tell me how good I’m making you feel.” He pushed down on your back, arching you more so he could pound that spot in you harder. You damn near screamed in shock and pleasure, “Feels so fucking good Matty! I’m gonna cum!” Your legs trembled and body shook as he got a little sloppy, reaching down rubbing your clit, hovering his body over yours, kissing your shoulder and neck as he groaned in you ear as you gripped all around his cock. Creaming all over his well endowed self.

“Ah fuck Y/N!” He bit down on your shoulder and his hips slammed fully back to yours, stilling inside you as he filled you with his cum. Painting your insides with himself, finally marking you as his. You let out a small moan at the feeling. He stood up after a little while of lying there, enjoying the feeling, coming down from his high. You slowly leaned up, groaning as your body ached, especially between your thighs. “Matty huh?” He broke the silence, warmth crept to your cheeks. “Has a nice ring to it when you use it.” He said as he started to get dressed, the leather was surprisingly not very hard for him to put on.

“Well don’t get used to it Murdock.” You remarked and tried not to stare at his beautiful upper half as he had his pants back on, sadly. The scars and bruises littering his pale skin made you sadden, but oddly turned on. It complimented him well. “I can smell you getting wetter.” The words made you shut your thighs together and more blood rush to your cheeks. “Sorry.” Was all you knew to say, feeling shy and awkward now.

“Don’t be, I like it.” He said gently grabbing your chin, back to himself it seemed. “Of course you do.” You laughed a bit rolling your eyes as you stood up, ready to get dressed. “Well, I’m sure you can let yourself out the same way you came in.” You stated and started to get dressed, into some more comfortable clothes of course. God knows that outfit is trash now thanks to the man in red. You slid out of your stretched out skirt and glanced over at the shredded material which was once a shirt.

“I bet you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He said standing right behind you, the feeling all too familiar. It gave you butterflies…

“Yeah thanks a lot.” You rolled your eyes, catching a glimpse of the hickeys, bruises and spank markings he left on your body. “You’re welcome, sorry I couldn’t throw cuts in. I know you would’ve like that.” He said, lips brushing your neck as he kissed at the sensitive flesh. “Don’t start, I’m way too sore.” You pleaded with him, trying to ignore his touch as you grabbed some old over sized flannel to cover you up a bit.

“Fine, but this continues at my place.” Matt’s evil smile returned making your eyes widen. “W-what?” You turned to face him but were met with sleep instead. “All mine now Angel.” You heard right as the dark fully consumed you, you were the devil’s toy, his play thing now. When he wants something, he gets it. And he wants you.

[pillow-anon]

“God? Quite the opposite actually, Angel..” HELLO???????????? THATS SO GOOD

[ideefixe]

living in my head rent free

[ideefixe]

[lousy-old-shrimp]

Friendly reminder that in the original film script, Hard Promises, Spot Conlon has freckles. Like, a ton of freckles.

“Spot” is probably referring to his freckles.

[clandestineloki]

heart as white as snow (NSFW)

summary: with a mind so pure and eyes so genuine, loki knows there will be lecherous men who will take advantage of your innocence. he may shield you from the dangers of the realms, but behind closed doors, when the stars shine down own the kingdom and no one can hear your sounds of pleasure, he’ll be the first to ravish you.

a/n: so many anons [like, eight (8)] requested virgin!reader!! 

cw: 18+ below the cut, friends to lovers, some creepy dude, virgin!reader, sub!reader, wholesome smut, luv luv luv <333 [also let’s assume he’s on some birth control spell :| ]

the night you first met, the first thing he did was wrap his cape around you.

to loki, not everybody at this certain ball seemed to show decency, for they stared you down, practically stripping you of your dress in their imagination. how could they show uncivility to such an unknowing damsel, and one who doesn’t seem to understand their leering gazes?

he strode towards you and cleared his throat.

“excuse m- oh!” you yelped a bit in surprise, turning to see who had approached you. prince loki stood there, a cape in hand, wrapping it around you and clasping the ends together with a yellow butterfly brooch.

“careful, darling,” he lifted your chin up to meet his eyes. “i appreciate your radiating beauty, but some men here might not show the same respect in their advances as i.”

“your- your highness,” you gave a miniature curtsy, “thank you, but why? is the dress too much?“

“the dress has no problem, little flower, don’t fret,” he drawled. “why don’t you accompany me to the tables for a drink?“

he held his hand out, and you took it, following the prince, not noticing the envious stare of a certain brown-haired soldier.

Keep reading

[jojodelaguerras-wooden-stick]

The Greatest Show

im sorry i couldn’t get a better quality :/

[pillow-anon]

hey guys, i hope i’ll get through your requests (im not gonna say promise because i cant really promise anything) but yeah im just hella busy and uninspired

[the-games-changing]

Okay can we please talk about how freaking adorable Kid Blink is in 1992sies